My Sister My Momma My Wife

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My Sister My Momma My Wife Page 5

by Lipsey, Shelia E.


  At the end of Bible study, a majority of the congregation mixed and mingled. Many of them went to the front of the sanctuary to shake Stiles’s hand. Other surrounded themselves around Detria.

  After fifteen minutes of nonstop handshaking, and “God bless you’s” the armor bearers escorted Stiles to the Pastor’s quarters, while another armor bearer escorted Detria out of the sanctuary.

  “Where the hell is my daughter?” Stiles asked in a hushed tone when Detria walked into his office.

  “My, my, my. The word of God is definitely true. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My husband, these things ought not to be so,” Detria mocked.

  Stiles took a step toward her. “Don’t you try to stand here and quote scriptures to me. Just go get my daughter.” He looked around his office like he was checking to make sure there was no one in there with him and Detria.

  Detria laughed.

  “Where is my daughter, I said?” asked Stiles. A knock on the door cut him short, and he was glad for the interruption. He bit into his bottom lip like he could almost taste blood.

  “Who is it?” he asked but Detria didn’t give the person on the other side of the door time enough to answer. She hurried to the door and opened it.

  “Thank you so much, Mother Brown for taking care of our bundle of joy,” she said with a pleasant smile on her face. She turned and looked at Stiles. “Honey, Mother Brown is such a blessing isn’t she?” She gave Stiles a sideways smile as she removed Baby Audrey from the woman’s arms.

  Stiles cracked a fake smile. This argument was not over, not by a long shot. He walked up next to Detria. “God bless you, Mother Brown. Was she a good girl for you?”

  “Oh, Pastor Graham, she was the perfect little angel. We had a good time together, didn’t we Baby Audrey,” Mother Brown said and patted the baby’s balled fist. “She’s been a good baby ever since she was born. And you know what Pastor Graham?”

  “What, Mother Brown?” Stiles replied.

  “She looks more like First Lady Audrey every day, God rest her soul.” Mother Brown shook her head.

  “Do you think so?” asked Detria. “I thought she looked more like my mother.”

  “Well, honey she does look like her too. Got your mother’s nose, I’d say. But just looking at her, I see First Lady Audrey all over that child, even the way she looks at you.”

  Detria smiled and so did Stiles.

  “Well, thank you again, Mother Brown. I didn’t want to miss Bible Study, so I’m glad you agreed to watch her. You know, these days you have to be careful who you let look after your children. Folks are crazy, even in the church,” Detria added.

  “You sho’ right, First Lady. But you don’t have to worry about that. I’ll always take good care of her.”

  “We know that, don’t we Pastor Graham?” Detria turned and looked up at Stiles.

  “Yes, yes,” he stuttered. “We know. Mother Brown, you better get going. Deacon Brown is probably gathering his posse to come looking for you.” Stiles smiled.

  Mother Brown smiled in return. “I do need to get going. He’s probably already outside in the parking lot waiting on me.” She turned to leave. “And remember,” she stopped and looked over her shoulder, “I’ve raised seven children of my own, and now I help take care of my grandchildren. So, one more won’t be a bother especially when they’re as good as Baby Audrey.”

  “Thank you, Mother Brown,” Detria responded. “Have a blessed night,” she said and closed the door when Mother Brown stepped out of the office.

  Next, Detria whipped around with Baby Audrey on her hip, and clinging to her mommy’s dress. “We’re going home.” Detria gathered the bag Mother Brown had set down on the table when she brought the baby in the office. “If you don’t mind, stop at Déjà Vu Restaurant on your way home, pick up something for dinner. I have to get Audrey bathed and fed. And, it’s been a long day. I do not feel like cooking.” She opened the door and walked out, leaving a red-faced Stiles standing with his jaws on swoll.

  When did this marriage go wrong? Or has it ever been right? Stiles rubbed his hand over his head and drove in the direction of the restaurant and home. Detria was trying him, and she was trying him real tough, but he couldn’t figure out why. He thought after Baby Audrey was born, that their relationship would flourish. He was wrong. Dead wrong. Instead of being a happily married man, more and more he was turning into a miserable, unhappy married man. God, I can’t let this marriage fail too. But this is getting harder every day. Detria is changing right before my very eyes, and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know if I even want to do anything about it.

  Stiles arrived at Déjà Vu, a tiny little vegan restaurant on Florida Street in the heart of South Memphis. Detria told him about the restaurant a few months prior. Since their initial visit, Stiles and Detria ate their often.

  Stiles ordered two spinach and mushroom quesadillas, and two additional side orders of sliced tomatoes and spring rolls to go. Back in his car, and on his way home, Stiles started thinking again about his life. How could he have possibly made another relationship mistake? What was wrong with him? First, it was Rena that betrayed him. And Detria, well Detria could have killed his father but yet he stayed with her. But why? Pastor may have forgiven her, but there were times Stiles still resented her for abusing Pastor. Stiles often prayed for Detria to be a good mother. He couldn’t be responsible for what he might do if he she abused his daughter.

  Rena, guess you’re married or about to be married? Stiles looked at the date on the control panel of the car. You’re a better man than me, Robert. Stiles switched from thought mode to talking out loud to himself as he drove. “I couldn’t do it, man.” Couldn’t stay with someone I couldn’t trust. Hope she’s for real with you, because she definitely wasn’t real with me.”

  Stiles walked into the kitchen with the bags of takeout. He sat the bags on the granite covered island countertop. He walked further into the kitchen on his way to the foyer area when he heard Detria talking on the phone.

  “Let me call you back,” he heard Detria say to someone obviously on the phone. “ I can’t. I told you he’s home. Bye.”

  “Who was that?” Stiles asked when he walked up on her in the foyer.

  “So now you want to monitor my phone calls? Tell me something, Stiles? Why the sudden jealousy? You’ve never been jealous, so what’s up with all of the questions?”

  “I said, who was on the phone?” Stiles said in a demanding voice.

  Detria laughed, walked toward him, but sashayed pass him.

  Stiles turned, and with quickness grabbed hold of her elbow, spinned her around until she faced him. He snatched the cell phone out of her hand and attempted to scroll through her phone, but it was password protected.

  When they were first married, Stiles often made fun of how much she used to change the passwords on her phone, her emails, social media accounts, twitter all her other technology accounts. It was funny back then, but tonight it served only to push him to his limit, and without thought, he pushed her down to the floor, raised his hand back to strike her. Like God stilled the hand of Abraham when He was about to kill Isaac, Stiles’ hand stopped in mid-air. His eyes gleamed.

  Detria jumped up, her face full of tears she ran out of the room and bolted up the stairs.

  Stiles heard a door slam. Immediately he felt partially ashamed of what he’d almost done. He covered his face with his hands. Hot tears streamed through his fingers. “God, help me. What is happening to me?”

  Slowly, Stiles went upstairs. The bedroom door was closed. He walked down the hallway to Baby Audrey’s nursery. She wasn’t there. Turning he started back toward their bedroom, but as if pricked by a needle he stopped and went to his study instead. There Stiles buried his head in his hands as he thought about the anger that almost caused him to physically abuse Detria. She may have been smart mouthed and cocky but that gave him no right to strike out at her. After an hour passed, Stiles got from behind his
desk and walked over to the leather sofa where he planned on sleeping for the night. He didn’t know what to say to Detria just yet.

  Stiles dozed off but was awakened over in the night by Baby Audrey’s cries. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. Next to him in her portable crib, was his daughter. He looked around, still somewhat groggy and disoriented. No Detria.

  “Come on, sweetpea. Daddy’s got you.” He lifted the fretting baby out of the crib and cradled her in his arms. He saw a bottle filled with milk propped in the corner of the crib. Stiles reached for it before he sat back down on the sofa. Audrey hungrily reached for the bottle and guided it into her own mouth. She laid back in her daddy’s arms.

  After Audrey finished her bottle, Stiles got up and took her to the nursery. He changed her pamper and rocked her to sleep in the rocking chair Detria had been excited to purchase for their baby, but now she rarely if ever used it. Audrey was asleep in minutes. Stiles laid her in her crib, covered her with her favorite pink blanket and then turned to leave.

  “You could have just woke me up instead of leaving our daughter without telling me. Suppose I slept through her cries? What then?” he said when he walked into their bedroom. Detria was turned on her side. She didn’t budge. Stiles didn’t know if she was asleep or just ignoring him. He leaned toward the latter. “Detria, what is wrong with you? I know you hear me.”

  Detria pounced up like a lion. “Don’t you come near me, Stiles. And I don’t have to warn you when it comes to your child. She’s just as much your responsibility as she is mine. I want you to get out of here anyway. I can’t believe you hit me,” she screamed. Stiles saw fresh tears pour from her eyes.

  “I didn’t hit you, Detria. And I’m sorry for raising my hand to you. I..I…I don’t know what happened. I’m really, really sorry.”

  “Sorry isn’t enough this time. You parade around the church and this community like you’re so holy and righteous, unscathed. If only your church folk knew you like I know you. What would they think then? My momma always said if a man ever raises his hand to you once, he’ll do it again and next time he’ll use it. So you see, I’m not going to live in this house afraid of what you might do to me, or to my baby.”

  Stiles took a step toward their bed. “Don’t bring up the church in this, Detria. This is between you and me.” Stiles hit his chest with the flat of his hand. “And don’t try to make this out to be all my fault. You still haven’t told me who you were talking to on the phone. If that had been me hurrying to get off the phone like I had something to hide, you’d be flat out tripping. So don’t even try it. I feel terrible that I allowed you to make me get that angry.”

  Detria pulled her knees up and pulled the cover up around her like she was shielding off the wind or something.

  “I said, I want you out of here, Stiles. I mean it. If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the police,” she threatened. “You can’t tell me that just because I wouldn’t tell you who I was talking to that I deserved to be physically abused,” she yelled.

  “What? Are you serious? Call the police for what? And what would you tell ‘em, Detria? That my husband almost hit me three or four hours ago? Come on, now. We don’t need the drama.” Stiles eased over a little closer. “Let’s talk this out.” He offered, trying to calm his emotions.

  “No, I do not want to talk to you. I just want you out of here.” She picked up the house phone sitting on the nightstand next to their bed. “Now,” she screamed again. “Or, I swear, I’m going to call 911.”

  His anger resurfaced and Stiles turned to leave the room. His nostrils flared. He slammed the door behind him. Stiles shook his head. This time he went to their guest room. He didn’t bother getting out of his clothes. He kicked off his shoes and laid across the queen-sized four poster bed.

  Unable to rest, Stiles sat up on the side of the bed. He saw the Bible opened and laying on the round table next to the bed. They had an open Bible in every room of their eleven room house. Stiles got the Bible and began reading the scripture. “Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another…as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.” He stopped reading and put the Bible back on the table. “God why do I have to be the one who always has to do the forgiving? I know I’m called to be your messenger, Father. But I’m human too, Father. I’m sick and tired of being the one to turn the other cheek. I turned the other cheek when it came to Rena and my sister. I turned the other cheek when my mother betrayed our family. I turned the other cheek when my wife beat up on my father. And now, you expect me to turn the other cheek again, even though my wife blatantly disrespects me and neglects my baby? What do you want from me?” Stiles cried out and then fell to his knees sobbing. “What do you want?”

  8

  “The hardest thing to learn in life is which bridge to cross and which to burn.” David Russell

  Rena and her sister, Delores left the final meeting with the caterer. Everything was set. The wedding was less than twenty-four hours away.

  “Are you excited?” her sister asked.

  “Of course, I’m excited. Why wouldn’t I be. I’m about to marry a wonderful man who adores me and loves me for who I am. And his kids love me too.” The two sisters got in the car and drove in the direction of their parents’ home.

  “Look, Rena I’m your sister. And I’m eleven years older than you, so I know a few things,” she laughed, and glanced over at Rena before turning her eyes back to the rode. “And I know enough about you, little sis to see that you aren’t as thrilled as a new bride should be. I’m just going to come out and ask.”

  “Ask what?” said Rena.

  “Are you having second thoughts about marrying Robert?”

  Rena looked at her sister who had her eyes glued to the street as she drove and talked. “Second thoughts? Where is all of this coming from?”

  “I told you. I know you, Rena. And you are not the happy little bride. Tell me, and I promise this won’t go outside of this car. You haven’t gotten over Stiles have you?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Delores. It’s been four years since Stiles and I divorced. He’s remarried and gone on with his life.”

  “You haven’t answered my question? Are you still in love with him?”

  Rena gave pause. “Look, I am not in love with Stiles. Do you think I would be marrying Robert if I was in love with my ex? I don’t think so.”

  “People do it every day, so you wouldn’t be the first one. All I want for you is happiness. I don’t know the details of why you and Stiles got divorced and I don’t need to know. But I don’t want to see you compounding your mistakes either. Just because Robert is a great guy and all, doesn’t mean he’s the man for you. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “I’m getting married because I want to get married. I do not want Stiles Graham. And why would you think I’d want somebody who couldn’t forgive me for my past mistakes? I don’t care how much he gets up in the pulpit every Sunday preaching forgiveness, when it came to home, he couldn’t forgive me.” Rena turned her face toward the window.

  “Look, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want you to be happy. And one last thing and then I’m going to be quiet about this whole thing. I don’t know what you did and like I said I’m not trying to get all into the reason for your breakup with him, but the fact remains not one time have I heard you say you’re marrying Robert because you love him.”

  Rena turned and faced Delores again. “You want to hear me say it, then I love Robert. Now are you satisfied?” she asked.

  “Are you satisfied, is the question? I’m through with it.” Delores raised one hand off the steering wheel and waved it in front of Rena’s face. “It’s your life. If you say you’re happy, then I’m happy. Now enough of that. Do you still want to stop by Joe’s Fish Seafood?”

  “Umm, I guess so. I do still have a taste for some grilled cod, and they have the best.”

  “O
kay, Joe’s Fish it is,” said Delores.

  ◊

  “You know it’s bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other before the wedding,” Rena told Robert over the phone.

  “It’s not our wedding day yet. That’s when it’s bad luck. It’s the night before the wedding, so why can’t I come over there and spend a couple of hours with my bride-to-be,” Robert pleaded.

  “I’ve been running all day long. I’m tired, honey. I just took a hot shower and now all I want to do is crash.” Rena yawned in the phone and curled up on her living room sofa.

  “Okay, I guess I’ll have to wait. But I don’t like it. I want to be there, right next to you. These last few days have been torture.”

  “Come on now, Robert. It hasn’t been that bad.”

  “Speak for yourself. It’s hard enough not being able to make love to you for the past month, and now I can’t come and see the woman I love the night before we say I do. I think that’s a bummer, a real bummer.”

  “We’ll have the rest of our lives to be together. And as for not making love, we both agreed, if you recall,” she emphasized, “that we were going to abstain from sex until after we were married.”

  “You’re the one who came up with that idea. I had no choice but to agree. You had already made up in your mind that you wanted us to stop having sex, for what I don’t know. It would be something else if we had never been intimate with one another, but we have. So why the big cut-off,” Robert questioned.

  “Look, I am not going to go back through this with you, Robert Becton. So, why don’t you watch a ball game or something and tomorrow will be here before you know it.”

  Rena heard a knock at the front door.

  “Robert, someone’s at the door. It’s probably Delores. She went over to mom and dad’s after we came back from the caterer.”

  Rena got up and walked toward the door. She peeped through the peephole and sure enough it was Delores with a big basket of something in her hands.

 

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