Sister Girls 2

by Angel M. Hunter

  What changed is when after a three-day binge, Faith got into a car accident and almost totaled the car. She didn’t remember anything about the accident and that scared the shit out of her.

  Faith decided to start attending meetings again and this time she was going to listen and learn instead of just sitting there and doubting. This time she was going to take part and tell her story instead of getting engrossed in others. This time she was going to get up the nerves and ask for a sponsor. That sponsor ended up being Susan and with Susan’s support, her sobriety became a reality.

  It was Susan that kept it gully and asked her how the hell she could be telling others what to do with their lives when hers was fucked-up. It was Susan that told her she was a fraud. Susan even advised her to take a step back from counseling and counsel her damn self.

  It took a while for those words to soak in. But when they did, Faith went looking for an African American therapist, someone like herself, someone she felt would be able to better relate to her. It turned out the person’s race didn’t matter. She ended up using a black and a white therapist. They both offered something different.

  It wasn’t only therapy that helped her heal and become clean but it was also the prescription of antidepressants.

  When they were first prescribed to her, Faith was like, there’s no way she was going to take one drug to replace another. Hell, she wasn’t so crazy that she needed a pill, she just needed time to get it together mentally, and she could figure it out on her own.

  “Have you been able to figure it out yet?” Susan would ask her.

  Just when she thought it was figured out, Faith would relapse. After going back and forth with sobriety and Susan finally saying she couldn’t continue to be her sponsor if she didn’t pull it together, Faith decided to give the antidepressants a try and this time to stick with it.

  Maybe what she had was a chemical imbalance and if these little “helpers” did just that—helped her—then it would all work out for the best.

  It did. The pills helped to balance her emotions and once that happened, she had clarity and once she had clarity she was able to make better choices and better decisions.

  The funny thing about this was, when Raheem saw that she was doing better, that she was becoming stronger, he grew suspicious. He started going through her things and when he came across the antidepressants, he asked her, “What the hell do you need antidepressants for? You’ve got me to help you.”

  His reaction reminded Faith of something she’d heard in the NA room: very often people wanted a person to stay where they were in life, even if it was stagnant, especially when they felt they had one up on you. Change made a lot of people feel uncomfortable, especially loved ones and when they saw that change for better was happening they often tried to jeopardize it in some way.

  Faith was afraid that this is what would happen, therefore she tried to keep the fact that she was taking the pills a secret. She was also afraid she would be seen as being even weaker than she already was.

  Faith was thankful for her “happy pill.” She even noticed the difference in her behaviors. She wondered if it meant she really was emotionally unstable? How much longer could she have operated that way? How much longer before she was sent over the edge?

  With Faith’s newfound sense of self, she was ready to sit Raheem down and tell him what she’d finally realized and accepted herself, that she wanted a divorce.

  There was some guilt with this decision because Raheem was an above-average provider. He did give her the option of working full- or part-time or not working at all, which is what happened when his kids from a previous marriage were living with them. She stayed home and took care of them. Now mind you, initially she was not feeling mothering someone else’s children and she let Raheem know this.

  “But that’s what a good wife is supposed to do,” Raheem told her. “I’ve taken good care of you, I’ve supported you, and I’ve been there for you. I’m asking that you do this for me.”

  So she did.

  When she left him, Faith knew that the financial security he provided her with, the lifestyle she’d grown accustomed to, would be a challenge giving up.

  She had a top-of-the-line Mercedes, she lived in a house that realistically was too big for the both of them, and he gave her spending money every week, even with her earning her own money. She knew she should have stopped that a long time ago, but she loved having the extra money. Her situation was a fantasy to other women, what more could she possibly want? She had access to all the material things any woman would desire.

  Faith realized this situation was about more than material things and status, it was about her dignity. It was about him respecting her as a person and not as property. It was about love, genuine love, real love, a love that surpasses all understanding, as the Bible put it. It was about the love she simply wasn’t getting enough of.

  In a way, Faith believed Raheem loved her but it was the love of a caretaker, not the love of husband and wife, not “till death do us apart” love.

  Even with his other women, Faith allowed him to get up inside her. They made love once every couple of weeks, like it was a duty. She was a paid whore, at least that’s how she was starting to feel. There’d been so many other women that she stopped caring. Faith started to accept Raheem for what he was. A provider only and in exchange for this provision she gave him the pussy.

  Faith discovered his infidelities by the numerous hang ups on the phone, numbers he left lying around, and whispered conversations she’d catch him having. She’d also had him followed on more than one occasion only to confirm what she already knew. Even with that evidence she wasn’t ready to leave.

  But for some reason, this morning was different. When the phone rang and she answered it, the silence on the other end didn’t affect her the way it used to, it didn’t upset her as much. Faith just moved the phone from her ear, looked at it, shook her head, and just hung up. She was done. She was getting too old to play these games. It was time for a confrontation.

  Faith looked at the time on the oven and saw that it was nearing 6:00 PM. Raheem told her he was coming home after work. Whenever he made it a point to tell her this, she knew what he was really saying is that he expected a home-cooked meal on the table.

  Well, too fucking bad, he could tell the bitch that hung up on her to cook his dinner and Faith meant that from the bottom of her heart. She would no longer hop, jump, and skip when he told her to. It just wasn’t happening.

  Faith was well aware that there would be a price to pay and in her mind she was willing to pay it.

  “A half an hour,” Faith said out loud, counting down the minutes before he arrived.

  Faith thought back to the night they met on the beach and he saw her NA pamphlet. Raheem was kind enough not to judge or question her. What he did instead was ask her if she wanted him to go with her. Faith surprised herself by saying yes and together they found an open meeting that allowed outsiders to attend.

  All Faith did that first night was cry while Raheem held her hand. After the meeting she went home with him and she never left. Now in her thirties, Faith realized that she’d never really been alone and on her own except for the time she ran away.

  After she moved out from her aunt, she went from man to man, not allowing herself to get to know who she was as a person.

  Could she make it on her own? Would she fall apart? Would she relapse or would she be the strong woman she tried to counsel other women to be? Faith sat on the couch and was dozing off when she felt someone touch her shoulders. She opened her eyes to find Raheem standing over her asking, “Where’s my dinner?”

  Faith didn’t answer him immediately. She was trying to get up the nerve to say to what she wanted to say.

  He looked toward the kitchen. “I asked you a question.”

  Faith looked up at him and said, “Well, let me ask you a question. What bitch are you seeing now?”

  Not one to deny or even try to play it off he sai
d, “Listen, I don’t have time for this shit. I had a long day at work. I’m here and hungry.”

  “Answer my question, Raheem.” Faith was not going to let it go that easy. “How come every time I turn around, some skank is calling my house, breathing or hanging up in my ear?”

  Raheem started walking toward the kitchen. “I’ll fix myself a sandwich.”

  Not willing to back down, Faith stepped in front of him. “Who is she?”

  Raheem fixed his gaze on Faith. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Ain’t nobody calling this house. You’re always starting this shit, every few months, Faith, and it’s starting to wear on me. I’m getting tired of it. It has to end, or else.”

  In the past when he would say something like that, it scared the hell out of her. She had a fear of being by herself and having to take of herself, but this time, she placed her hands on her hips and asked, “Or else what? Or else you’re going to leave me?”

  When he didn’t answer her, Faith went on, “I’m getting tired of your empty threats. Say what you want to say, out with it.”

  Raheem told Faith to step out of his way.

  “Or what, you’re going to hit me like you used to?” This time she wouldn’t allow it, she would fight him if necessary.

  “What the hell has gotten into you? You’re losing it, Faith.” Raheem frowned. “Are you getting high again? Is that it? Are you coming down from a high and that’s what’s got you acting all bold and shit.”

  She should have known he would throw that up in her face. “No, I’m not high, I’m not high at all, all I am is ready for a divorce.” She waited on a reaction and there was none. So she repeated it: “I want a divorce.”

  Raheem sighed and moved past her. He walked into the kitchen with her following him. “Did you just say you want a divorce?”

  “Yes.” Faith was not backing down. “Look at us, Raheem; I mean, really take a look, are we happy together? Are we really happy? Or are we just passing each other by, pretending to be in a marriage? We’re not a couple, we’re living separate lives.”

  “That’s never been a problem before.” Raheem opened the pantry and pulled out some rolls.

  “It’s always been a problem, I’ve just never acknowledged it before.”

  He placed the bread on the island in center of the floor and told her, “I’m not going to give you a divorce, Faith; you might as well get that out of your head.”

  “Why not? You don’t love me, you have other relationships, your kids are all grown, and why keep pretending?”

  Faith sat down at the kitchen table and looked up at Raheem with tears in her eyes. “I can’t do this anymore, I don’t want to be in a loveless marriage. I don’t want to be in an ‘on paper only’ marriage. I want more. I deserve more.” Faith looked in Raheem’s eyes, hoping to connect, hoping that he understood, hoping that he would be willing to let her go.

  “You have other women, for goodness sake, you’ve had them almost our whole marriage. Why do you even want me here? I can move out and you can do you. You can be the bachelor you want to be.”

  Raheem left the rolls on the counter and walked over to Faith. He stood over top of her and what she saw on his face scared her. Before she could make a move or a sound, his hands were around her throat. He pulled her up to him and said under his breath, “I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.” He removed his hands and told her, “Get a jacket, we’re going out to eat,” then he walked away.

  Faith followed him while massaging her neck. It’d been a while since he’d put his hand on her. She knew why she allowed it the first few times. It was because of her self-esteem. Why she allowed it now when she knew better and wanted better was beyond her. As much as she told herself that if he put his hands on her ever again, she would fight back and call the police, she found herself doing neither.

  Everything in Faith knew she should leave, just walk out, walk away but she couldn’t make herself just do it.

  The first time Raheem put his hands on her was when she confronted him about the “other woman.” That was over ten years ago. He walked in the house full of life and shit, acting like he’d had the best fucking day in the world. Faith had been home crying her eyes out because once again someone called her, taunting her about the fact she was fucking her man and that he was going to leave the marriage, on and on it went until Faith had enough sense to hang up the telephone. She sat around all day and wondered why she continued to torture herself. That day she also purchased a gram of cocaine from her dealer on standby and got high.

  So by the time Raheem arrived home, she was feeling like she could take on the world. Faith was ready to tear into his ass, she was not going to back down.

  The second he walked in the door smiling like it was New Year’s Eve and he’d just celebrated, Faith went and stood in his face and said, “So you real happy you got your dick sucked today, huh?”

  Taken aback, he asked her, “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Faith did not back down. “One of your hoes called me and told me all about you and her sex life, about how good you be fucking her. Well, you know what, go and fuck her, go and fuck the shit out of her. As a matter of fact, bring her here and fuck her, I’ll get out of your way.” Faith brushed past him and went into the bedroom with him following close behind her.

  She went over to the closet and started throwing clothes on the bed, she also pulled clothes out her drawers and threw them on the bed as well. The whole time she was talking shit, out loud and under her breath. She brushed past Raheem, who stood by the door and watched her every move with a smirk on his face. Faith came back into the room with a suitcase. She started shoving the items that were on the bed into the suitcase.

  Finally done, she tried to push past Raheem but he pushed her back hard, so hard she stumbled. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up close to him; their noses were almost touching. Faith dropped her suitcase.

  “Hand it over,” Raheem demanded.

  “Hand what over?” Faith asked while trying to escape his grip.

  “Your package.”

  “My suitcase?” Faith wasn’t stupid, she knew what he meant when he said “her package.”

  The next thing she knew, his hand hit her face so hard that she realized the saying, “I saw stars” was real. He smacked her again. “Give me the drugs and unpack your shit.”

  Faith tried denying that she had drugs and each time she denied it, he would smack her. She just stood there and took it, too numb too react, while wondering how the hell he knew she had a package. She didn’t care if he did know, she wasn’t going to give it to him.

  He grabbed her shoulders and spoke in a low tone, almost a whisper, telling her that she was leaving that house over his dead body.

  In her mind Faith said, “If that’s what it takes.” Of course, they were just thoughts.

  As Faith stood in front of him and told him she wanted a divorce, she wondered if she was going to have to kill him to get out.

  “Get dressed, we’re going out to eat. We can talk about us over dinner,” he demanded.

  What would he do if she said no? Did she really want to find out? Not tonight, she didn’t.

  So out to dinner she went against her will. It wouldn’t be the first time but it damn sure would be the last.

  “I’m getting out of this marriage come hell or high water,” Faith said under her breath.

  An hour later Faith and Raheem were sitting across from one another at a restaurant downtown, not saying a word.

  Faith was sipping on champagne, looking across the room, when she saw Elsie walk in. She was alone.

  Perfect, this would give her a reason to get up to leave his presence.

  “So are you ready to talk?” Raheem asked her. She had been giving him the silent treatment since they left the house.

  Faith ignored him and took another sip of her champagne.

  “I asked you a question, are you ready to talk? You had a lot to say at the
house, now you’re all quiet and shit. What’s up?”

  Faith put down her glass and leaned over the table so he could hear every word she was going to say. “I’m thinking about the divorce I asked you for earlier. I’m wondering why you’re trying to fight it. I’m thinking about you putting your hands on me and me calling the cops. You don’t love me, Raheem. I can’t help but wonder if you ever really did or did you just want to possess me?”

  Raheem sat back and crossed his arms. “Do you really want to go there?” He looked around the restaurant. “You want to go there right here, out in the public?”

  “Yes, I do, because if I try to ‘go there’ while we’re here out in the public as you so eloquently put it, maybe you won’t choke me up or smack me around like you did at the house.”

  Raheem shook his head and said, “You know what? I apologize for that but who was it that took care of you when you were too high to take care of yourself?” he asked.

  Faith didn’t say a word.

  “I asked you a question. You’re the one who wanted to go there, so tell me who took care of you when you were a drug addict.”

  “You did,” Faith admitted with reluctance.

  “Who took you in when you had nowhere to go? Who drove you to NA meetings and to your therapist?” He waited for an answer.

  “You.” Faith knew that he was running a guilt trip on her.

  “Who helped pay your way through school?” He threw up his arms, exasperated. “Shit, who made you the person you are today?”

  That comment pissed Faith off. “So what? I owe you my life? Is that what you think, is that what you want from me, my life? Yes, master, I owe you. Yes, master, you saved me from the depths of hell.” Faith could hear her voice rising and scanned the room to see if anyone was looking at them.

  The couple next to them averted their eyes. Faith continued. “Is that why you don’t want to let me go, because you feel like I owe you, because you’re keeping tabs, keeping count, adding up your points?”