“Well, I've thought about it, but first, let's pray.” Before they bowed their heads, Braxton took Anya's hand into his. “Heavenly Father, we come to you this morning, not in our usual place of worship, but to worship you nonetheless. We thank you, Lord, for all of the blessings that you continue to pour over us. We know, Father, that without you, we wouldn't have made it through this tough time. We love you, Lord, and we stand in awe of your power and glory.”
As Braxton prayed, Anya squeezed his hand. She felt closer to Braxton now than she ever had, and she wondered if this were God's message.
“So today, Father, we just want to come before you and not think about ourselves or what we've been through. But we want to worship you for who you are and to give you praise for all you have done, in Jesus Christ's name. Amen.”
She kissed him. “I love you,” Anya said.
He lifted her hand and kissed it, then rubbed his finger along the place where her ring used to be. “We have to do something about this.”
She shook her head. “This is not the time to think about that.”
He nodded, pulled her back into his arms and opened his Bible.
Sasha was relieved when the garage door rose and Braxton's car was gone. She parked, then gathered her packages, putting the Los Angeles Times on top, and struggled into the house.
It was quiet when she entered the living room, and when she scurried upstairs, she confirmed that she was alone.
She let the bundle slip from her arms, onto the bed. Her intent was to find a suit or two—something appropriate for interviewing. But as usual, she skipped on moderation and drove away from Beverly Hills with five new outfits.
“One for each day of the week.” She laughed as she shook the purple-and-red suit from the Escada garment bag.
After days of tears, today was her first good day. Anya was getting better and Hunter … well, it had been four days since the Victory Awards and no calls. But she didn't fault him; he told her it was just a sex thing. Obviously, a couple of weeks was long enough.
It was time for her to get over it. And that's what she planned to do. First a job, then a place of her own. Los Angeles was the perfect place to delve into this season of self-discovery. No one knew her. All she had was Anya and Madear.
Sasha smiled at the thought of her grandmother. They'd spoken every day, chatting like girlfriends. And although most of their conversations were about Anya, Sasha knew that Madear was calling to check on her too. Each day, Madear ended the calls with words that warmed her.
“I love you, baby,” Madear always said. “I want you to know that I'm proud of you.”
It was the new beginning with Madear that made Sasha realize she needed to clean up every aspect of her life—starting with the basics. And she'd leave men alone! At least for now.
She hung the last of the clothes, then picked up the newspaper. As her fingers skimmed the countless small squares of employment opportunities, Sasha mused, “Maybe I should start with an apartment.”
Before she had a chance to turn to the real-estate section, the phone rang. With her eyes still plastered on the paper, she picked up the receiver.
“Anya?”
“No, this is Sasha, her cousin.”
“Is Anya there? This is Pastor Ford.”
The announcement made Sasha sit up straight. “Hello, Pastor. Anya's not here.”
“Okay. Well, please tell her I called.”
Sasha sighed when she clicked off the phone. Even though she had vowed to stay away, church had found its way to her. A moment later, the phone rang again, and Sasha wondered what the pastor had forgotten.
“Yes, Pastor Ford?”
“Sasha?”
A lump choked her vocal cords.
“This is Hunter.”
She was silent as options ran through her mind. Should she go off, revisiting her best Jerry Springer personality? Or should she be a classy, I-couldn't-care-less kind of gal? Without time to decide, she simply said, “Hi,” in a voice that didn't commit.
“How are you?” he asked, as if he'd seen her yesterday.
“Fine.” She still had not made a commitment.
“Let's get together this afternoon.”
It took a moment for his words to register. Without any mention of what happened, she was supposed to just fall in line.
“Why would we want to do that?” She chose the casual, classy tone.
“ ‘Cause I miss you, baby,” he whined in the voice that a few days ago would have made her melt. “I've had a few things I had to take care of, but now it's time for me to get back to my life and that means seeing you.”
“Hunter.” She stated his name in the sweetest tone she could muster. “Remember when you said this was just about sex? Well, you were right. It was good, babe, but it's done. I've moved on to new territories.” Sasha barely suppressed a giggle as she imagined Hunter's facial contortions. But a moment later, she stopped when he laughed.
“That's a good one, Sasha. Come on, what time should I pick you up?”
She stood and paced alongside her bed. “This is not a joke, Hunter.” Her casualness was gone. “I don't want to see you.”
Several beats went by before he said, “Oh, you're mad because we didn't hang out after the Victory Awards. I told you I had to take care of some business.”
“Did that include Lyza Easton?” The question slipped before she could stop herself. She punched her fist against her thigh.
“I'm an actor, Sasha. There are things I have to do if I want to be successful.”
Sasha shook her head at his gall. “It's time for us to say goodbye, Hunter.”
“I can't believe you're angry about a little thing like that.”
Sasha wondered if Hunter heard himself. Or was she so insignificant that it didn't matter how she felt?
When she remained silent, he said, “So you want to throw away everything we have just because of the other night?”
What they had left her curled up on the bathroom floor. Her shoulders slumped at the memory. “It's a lot more than just the other night, Hunter, but we don't need to go into it. So, adios, ciao, whatever language you speak, good-bye.”
There was a long pause before he said, “Do you think I care if you walk away?” He spat the words like darts through the phone. “Let me tell you something, Sasha. After I hang up, I'll be able to dial any number and get any woman I want.”
“Then you need to start dialing.” This was the point where she knew she should slam the receiver down.
Hunter chuckled. “Do you think you're ever going to be with someone like me again?”
“I hope not!”
It was Hunter who slammed the phone in her ear.
“Argh!” Sasha screamed as she clicked off the phone. She swung around and almost bumped into Anya. “Oh, I'm sorry.” Sasha tossed the cordless phone onto the nightstand. “I didn't hear you come in.”
“I'm not surprised; you were screaming.” Anya sat down next to Sasha. “Doesn't sound like things are going well with you and Hunter.”
Sasha rolled her eyes. “Just say it. ‘I told you so, Sasha,’” she said in a high-pitch tone, mimicking Anya. Sasha punched one of the pillows beside her. “You were right about him.”
“I wish I wasn't. What happened?”
“Nothing—except the things you said would happen. It was like I was disappearing under his spell. I was wearing certain clothes because of him and …” Sasha paused, and ran her hand over her head, remembering just how far she'd gone. She sighed deeply before she continued. “I feel like I'm a fly trap for dysfunctional, egomaniacal men. So, I'm changing my scent. I've had it with Hunter. In fact, I'm going to leave all men alone.”
“That's hard to believe.”
“At least until I decide what I need to do.” She paused and grinned at Anya. “What would you think about your cousin becoming a native?”
Anya smiled widely. “You're going to stay? That's wonderful.”
“This
is a good place to start over. No one knows me, but I still have you and Madear.” She paused. “Speaking of Madear—” Sasha scooted closer to Anya as if she were about to tell a secret. “She apologized to me. Not just for the other day, but it was almost like an apology that covered the years. I can't tell you how good it made me feel.”
Anya thought about her conversation with Madear. “I told you she loved you.”
Suddenly Sasha's face changed, her eyebrows knitted together. “I've been talking about me. How're you doing?”
“Pretty good,” Anya said. She stood and walked to the dresser where Sasha had framed photographs lined in front of the mirror. There was one that had been taken over twenty-five years before, where she and Sasha stood between their mothers. Anya picked up the silver frame and ran her fingers along her mother's face. “Talking with Pastor Ford really helps. She's reminding me of who I am.”
“I'll tell you who you are—you're unbelievable! I know I wouldn't be this strong if it happened to me.”
Anya sighed. “Believe me, I have my moments. I feel like I'm in the middle of a tight circle surrounded by every emotion possible. Two steps in either direction, and I could become angry, or depressed or sad. But I'm hanging right there in the center. I'm keeping my focus on God.”
“So, God is your solution, huh?”
“He's the only solution I got. I believe in God, and I believe God, no matter what I'm going through. He's going to make sure I get to the other side.”
“I'm surprised you don't have a scripture for that.” Sasha smirked.
“Isaiah 43:2.”
They laughed.
“And I read that scripture every day, just to remind myself.”
“You are amazing.”
“It's God who's amazing. People say that God is good and He is, but what keeps me, is that God is God. He never lets me down.”
Sasha crossed her legs under her and let her elbows rest on her knees. “I wish I could be more like you.”
“There's nothing wrong with you, kiddo.”
“I mean, the way God works for you. I wish He could do the same thing for me.” Sasha raised her hand before Anya could open her mouth. “I know what you're going to say. But God doesn't work for me like He does for you.”
“That's not true, Sasha. He's there for everyone. The Bible says that we all know Him in our hearts.”
Sasha shook her head, then bounced from the bed. “I was looking through the newspaper before Hunter called.” She ignored the disappointed look on Anya's face. “I'm going to have some interviews this week. You can count on that.”
Anya opened her mouth, then bit her lip. She walked toward the door. “Sasha, I hope I can count on you joining me in church next Sunday. If you have questions, Pastor Ford can help you find the answers.”
Sasha smiled but said nothing as Anya left the room. She didn't have the heart to tell her cousin that was one thing she couldn't count on.
Chapter 36
You know, Pastor Ford, the day that Braxton and I were here for counseling and he told me about his son, I thought Id never face anything tougher.”
Pastor Ford smiled and tapped her fingertips against her desk.
“I didn't think I'd laugh or be happy again,” Anya continued. “But things are really good, Pastor.”
Pastor Ford suddenly stopped tapping her fingers. “Anya, describe to me how you're feeling.”
Anya laid her hands on the arms of the chair. “Well, I'm beginning to feel grounded. What happened doesn't occupy every space of my mind anymore. I think about other things and I'm thinking about going back to work.”
“That's terrific, Anya.” But the pastor lost her smile as she came from around her desk. The pastor sighed deeply before she said, “There is one thing I want to talk about.” She took Anya's hands. “We've had three sessions now, and you've never said that you were raped.”
Anya silently stared at the pastor.
Pastor Ford said, “Before you leave today, I want you to say it.”
Anya opened her mouth, then closed it, shaking her head.
“Anya, once you say it aloud, you'll be free. The act of what happened will lose its control over you.”
Anya folded her arms. “I've said it over and over, Pastor.” She stood so quickly, her chair almost tipped over. “All we've talked about is that I was attacked. That's why I'm here.”
Pastor Ford ignored Anya's anger. “I'm not talking about attack—I'm talking about rape. It worries me that you refuse to acknowledge what happened to you.”
“I know what happened.”
“Then say it.”
After a few moments, Anya's shoulders slumped and Pastor Ford took her hand, leading her back to the chair. “I can't say it,” she whispered. “If I say it, Pastor, then there'll be a lot of questions I'll have to answer. Like did I do everything I could that night?” Her voice trembled.
“Anya, you did what you were supposed to do—you survived!” She let her words settle in. “Rape is a terrible thing, and no one wants to be a part of it. But you already know that you didn't cause this. And, you know that you survived because of God. Now, you have to release it.”
Silent minutes passed before the pastor shook her head and said, “All right, I just wanted to bring it to your attention.”
Pastor Ford took Anya's hands, bowed her head and began to pray.
Anya closed her eyes and tried to stop the trembling that was beginning deep inside. Within seconds, the shaking reached her skin; every inch of her body quivered.
But Pastor Ford continued to pray, not stopping even when sobs heaved from Anya's chest.
“Let her feel your power, Father.” Pastor Ford raised her voice and gripped Anya's hands tighter. “Free her from the hold that still controls her. You said in your word that if the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed. So I pray, in Jesus’ name, that Anya be freed here, Lord.”
The pastor began to pray in the spirit and Anya's sobs became louder.
“Oh, God. How could this happen to me?” Anya cried.
The pastor looked up.
“Pastor, how could I have been raped?”
Pastor Ford held Anya in her arms for the next hour, ignoring the knocks on her door and the ringing of the phone.
Finally when Anya was able to lift her head, Pastor Ford said, “This is a good day.” She lifted Anya's chin with her finger. “I think you can go home now.”
Chapter 37
From inside his car, Braxton waved at Anya, standing at the window as he pulled out of the garage. He took his time shifting gears from reverse to drive, watching her for a few moments longer, trying to decide if the smile on her face was genuine. He was still unsure when he drove away.
He didn't know what to think. Seven days had sped by since Anya's attack, yet she didn't seem to be recovering at the same speed. She hadn't returned to work, spending most of her mornings with Pastor Ford and her afternoons reading, resting, or running on Venice Beach. This was not what he expected from his high-powered fiancée.
How could he help her get past all of this? Though he craved answers, none were coming from her. They'd almost argued last night when he pushed.
“Anya, I'm really worried about you,” he had said.
Anya had been stretched out on the chaise. She smiled before she said, “There's nothing for you to worry about. I keep telling you I'm fine.”
“Okay,” he said, joining her on the chair. “Then talk to me. Tell me what you feel. Tell me what you talk to Pastor Ford about.”
She closed the book on her lap and looked thoughtful. “We talk about how I feel better every day and how I'm finding a way to put this behind me. We talk about how I'm getting my life back to normal.”
Normal! he wanted to scream. There was nothing normal about this.
He had chuckled bitterly at the irony. For months, he had done everything to get Anya away from her business. Now she'd done that, but it didn't make him happy. It was a
s if she had been raped of her will—she'd lost her volition to fight and he didn't like that at all.
“Why don't you watch the Lakers game?” That was her signal that the conversation was over and she returned to one of the novels he'd brought her from Zahra's Book Store that afternoon.
Pouting, he had returned to bed, turned off the television, and stared at Anya. But she never lifted her head, and he'd finally fallen asleep.
This morning, she had acted as if nothing had happened. They had jogged, then had brunch on Venice Beach. When they returned home, he'd worked for hours, while she slept. The only good news was that the bandage had been removed and Dr. Young had been pleased to hear that Anya was spending time with her pastor.
Braxton squirmed in his seat. “I need to do something!” he exclaimed, and picked up his cell phone. Pastor Ford could tell him what was going on. But he put the phone back in the holder before he even pressed the first button. Pastor Ford wouldn't tell him anything. But there was one place where he could go to get all the answers he needed.
“What are you doing here, baby?” Madear shouted from the opened screen door.
Braxton trotted across the bald lawn and up the three porch steps. He kissed Madear's cheek. “I wanted to check on you.”
“Don't give me that.” She chuckled. “I just hung up from Anya and she said you were going to get you guys something to eat. What am I? One of those fast-food places?”
“You got me. I wanted to speak to you.”
“Well, come on in.”
He followed her inside, and was immediately struck by a pleasant fragrance. Today it was one of Madear's multi-layered coconut cakes, overflowing with frosting, and Braxton had to stop himself from begging for a piece right then.
When they settled onto the couch, Madear asked, “So what do you want to know about Anya?”
Braxton forgot about the cake in the kitchen. “I didn't say this was about her.” He shifted against the plastic cover.
“Boy, do you think you can fool me? What's bothering you, baby?”
Braxton placed his elbows on his knees. “I'm worried about her.”
Madear frowned slightly. “She looked fine yesterday, and just now when I spoke to her, she was talking about the wedding and things. I think she's coming along nicely.”
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