My Son's Wife

by Shelia E. Bell

  “Who was it, Rena? Who were you in love with?” Audrey paused in thought and suddenly put two and two together. “Oh, my, Lord, no. How could you?” Audrey snapped. “You, of all people, I trusted,” Audrey told Rena. “I thought you loved my son.”

  “I did. I mean, I do love him,” Rena cried while Frankie enjoyed the scene playing out before her. Pastor trembled slightly in his scooter.

  “Mother, be quiet. I want to hear what Rena has to say,” ordered Stiles.

  Audrey crouched like a scared child and positioned herself behind Pastor’s scooter.

  “I said, who was it that you were in love with?”

  Again, Rena’s eyes fell on Frankie. This time Stiles noticed the lingering look in Rena’s eyes, and the knowing look in Frankie’s.

  “Nooo,” Stiles yelled, the words moved in slow motion. “My sister? You were having an affair with Francesca?”

  Audrey was stunned. A tear streamed down Pastor’s face. Rena held her head down.

  “Tell me this isn’t happening,” Stiles cried.

  Walking hastily to where Rena stood, Audrey screamed, “How could you? How could you do this? You’re, you’re no better than, than her,” Audrey hollered, while pointing at Frankie.

  Rena almost fell to the floor as Audrey’s hand went hard across her face. Warm liquid oozed down the side of her mouth and Rena tasted her own blood.

  “You deceitful little tramp,” Audrey yelled and went for her again. Stiles grabbed Audrey’s hand before she could land another blow.

  “You...”Stiles cried out. Then he focused on Frankie. “And you, my own sister. How could you do something like this? Wasn’t it enough for you to live your sick life around Mother and Pastor? Wasn’t it enough that your homosexual acts were a mockery to everything that our father taught us without you having to bring Rena into your twisted, maniacal world?”

  “Don’t you stand there and try to make me out to be the bad one. I’m tired of it all,” Frankie yelled even louder. Stomping her feet and moving toward Audrey, she continued yelling at the top of her voice. “This is your fault. Your fault,” screamed Frankie as particles of spit sprayed over Audrey’s face. Next she lifted a nail stubbed finger, and pointed it Audrey like it was jagged edged knife.

  “Get out of my face, you lying little wench,” Audrey commanded. “Stiles, you better get your sister before I do something drastic to her.”

  “Noooo,” Pastor managed to say and tried desperately to raise his weakened hand in defiance.

  “Ohhh, yes, Daddy, I’m afraid it’s time you know everything.” Frankie retorted. “Let me tell you about your sweet Audrey because you don’t know half the story. You see, Pastor,” Frankie released everything that she had kept bottled up inside of her since she was a child. “First Lady Audrey here knew; she knew all along. Didn’t you, Mommie Dearest?” Frankie asked sarcastically, her voice flamed and belligerent.

  “What did she know? What is she talking about, Mother?” asked Stiles. His brows were furrowed in a show of confusion.

  “I’m talking about Fonda, that’s who, Stiles. Cousin Fonda. When I was just a girl, she molested me.”

  “Shut up! You shut up right now,” Audrey cried out.

  “Are you satisfied? Are you?” Frankie screamed.

  “You’re a liar,” Audrey yelled. “And you know it. Get her out of here.” Audrey flailed her hands and head back and forth and from side to side, like she was having convulsions.

  Rena wiped another trickle of blood from her lip with the back of her hand, but what she heard hurt more than any slap ever could.

  “That’s what you want people to think. You want everybody to believe that I’m a bad seed. Maybe I am, but at least I don’t pretend to be anybody but who I am. But you,” Frankie pointed an outstretched arm and finger at her mother. “You’re the real liar; the real deceiver in all of this,” she accused. “You knew all along what Fonda did and you did nothing about it. When I told you how she hurt me, you did nothing, nothing to stop her. You blamed me instead. You said I was fast and hot in the pants. All these years I carried this guilt around inside of me alone. It was l never said a word to you,” Frankie screamed at Audrey and tears trickled down her face. “But I wasn’t fast or hot mother. I didn’t want Fonda to do those things to me. I was a child. I was only a child,” Frankie repeated, her face turned red and loud sobs pelted from her belly. The stream of hot tears ran down her face mixing with snot.

  By this time, Rena was sobbing too and Pastor’s hands shook uncontrollably. Stiles eyes were large and his frame was still as a department store mannequin.

  “It wasn’t enough that Fonda did what she did to me, but you had to go and make me feel dirty and nasty, Audrey. Then years later, it happened again when Minister Travis came to Holy Rock. Some youth minister he was,” mocked Frankie. “Why do you think he’s in prison for the next thirty years? It sho ain’t for preachin’ the word? He’s a daggone freakin’ pedophile!” screamed Frankie. An uncontrollable rage filled her spirit and at that moment she hated every one of them. “Yea, the great youth minister raped me! Did you know that too, mother? I wouldn’t be surprised if you paid him to go away.”

  Pastor swayed in the scooter like he was about to fall out of it.

  “Raped you?” barked Stiles. “My God, why didn’t you tell somebody? Anybody?” he asked with questioning eyes.

  “Why you ungrateful, disgusting little tramp. Don’t you see everybody, she’s lying.” Audrey looked at every one in the room, searching for someone to stand with her against Frankie’s vicious attack, but no one said a word. “She always has wanted somebody to feel sorry for her. You’re going to burn in hell for this, Francesca Graham. Mark my words.”

  “Oh, shut up. Your words don’t mean a thing to me, Mother. If I go to hell, you’ll be right there beside me,” Frankie shot back.

  “Stop it!” Stiles hollered and walked over to his sister. He tried to hold her and comfort her but she moved away from the grasp of his arms.

  Rena rested against the arm of the sofa chair, trying to keep from passing out. Too much was happening. “Oh, my God. Frankie, I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?” Rena asked with pleading grief-stricken eyes.

  Frankie looked at Pastor, but ignored Rena. “I used to believe that you were the one who I could count on to be there for me, Pastor. The one that I hoped really loved me. But you believed everything Audrey said. Did she tell you about Fonda, Pastor? Did she?” Frankie continued to sob and tremble.

  Pastor moved his head from side to side like he was trying hard to process what was going on around him. But Frankie could imagine what her father was thinking. His perfect family was falling apart right before his tear-stained eyes and there was literally nothing he could do or say about it. Her eyes shifted from Pastor and settled on Stiles.

  “And you, dear brother. You were always wrapped up in yoself. You didn’t have time to see what was going on inside this so called Christian home,” Frankie continued. “You couldn’t see what was goin’ on right in front of your own eyes. Why do ya think Rena was takin’ care of me every time I was locked up? Huh? Why do you think we wuz always together and that no matter what, she was the one that had to tell y’all where I was? Duh?” Frankie chuckled wickedly and pointed her finger on the side of her head.

  Stiles remained motionless. Frankie knew her brother, his mind, like a computer, more than likely was trying to gather everything she’d just said about Fonda, Minister Travis, and his precious Rena.

  Limping slowly, and with what resembled a mask of hatred on her face, Frankie made her way to Rena. “And you,” she said vilely, standing face to face with Rena. “I used to believe you were my friend, but you turned out to be no betta than her.” Frankie pointed to Audrey with her eyes. “Wantin’ folks to think you so much. You deceived my brotha. You tricked him into believing that you were so pure, so holy, when all the time you just as nasty as me.”

  Stiles couldn’t take any more. He couldn’t
stay inside the house one minute longer. He turned and rushed out of the room. Stiles spotted Clarence, one of his friends from back in the day, driving down Pepper Oaks just as he had bolted out of the house. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect because Clarence slowed down to say hello to Stiles, whom he hadn’t seen in close to a year. As soon as Stiles made it to Clarence’s car, he asked Clarence to give him a ride home. Clarence looked over his shoulder and saw Stiles’s car sitting in the Graham’s driveway.

  “Everything all right, man?” questioned Clarence.

  “Naw, everything is jacked up. But I can’t talk about it right now. You know. I just need to get to the crib. I’ll give you some gas money.” Stiles reached inside his pants pocket and retrieved his wallet.

  Shoving his hand in Stiles’s direction, Clarence answered, “I’m not worried about gas money. I’m worried about you. But I won’t press the issue. If you need a ride home, a ride home is what you’ll get. No problem.” Clarence made a u-turn in the street and then sped off.

  “Stiles, wait,” Rena bellowed. She was no match for his athletic swiftness. All she heard was the sound of the front door closing so hard it could have popped off of its hinges.

  She turned around and started searching nervously for her purse. Frankie and Audrey became enthralled in another yelling match.

  “Stop…it,” Pastor stammered.

  “Get out of here.” Audrey angrily asked Rena.

  Rena ignored Audrey’s question, and walked over to Frankie. “You talk about me not being a friend to you; well you’re the lowest of the lowest. How could you hurt your family like this? How could you be so cruel and evil? You could have told me about your cousin and about Minister Travis. I was your friend and I would have tried to help you. But you never gave me a chance. You used me, Frankie. You were the one who pretended to care about me. You’re the one who pretended like you were my friend and that you loved me. But you’re just as big a phony as me. I admit what I did was wrong. It was down right terrible and I’m ashamed of myself. I’m ashamed of me and you. But you, I feel sorry for you, Frankie.” Rena turned and walked out, and left Frankie, Audrey and Pastor to face the demons that had taken up residence in the house at 3290 Pepper Oaks.

  Outside, in the driveway, Rena fumbled through her purse in search of her set of keys to Stiles’s car. Finding them, she drove up and down through the streets of Emerald Estates in search of Stiles. How could he have disappeared so quickly when his car is still here? Lord, why? Why is all this happening? And how can I tell Stiles that not only have I been involved with another woman, but I have a disease too? Rena drove through the neighborhood for twenty minutes before she gave up and headed home.

  Thanks to Clarence, Stiles was at home. His mind was going in circles. He went into the kitchen, and then in a daze, started back to the bedroom. “God, what just happened back there? How could my life take such a deadly turn in a matter of seconds?” Stiles raised both hands toward the bedroom ceiling. “What do you want from me? What am I supposed to do now?” Stiles cried out loud to God. Hitting the bed with his fists, he grabbed the pillows off of the perfectly made king-sized bed and threw them against the wall. A soft thud followed. Next he yanked the spread off of the bed. Like a madman, Stiles swiped his hands across the dresser and in one swoop everything crashed to the floor. Falling on his knees, he placed his head in his hands and pleaded for God’s mercy.

  Rena walked inside of the house and suddenly encountered coldness like she’d never experienced before. Stiles was here; she could feel him. Hair stood up on the back of her neck and she shivered. Slowly, and cautiously she walked toward the bedroom and met up with the glare of his bloodshot eyes. Her eyes scanned the trashed room and a knot formed in the base of her throat. For a moment, she said nothing, and then she reached her hand out toward him. Stiles jerked away from her grasp.

  “Don’t you even think of touching me. You make me sick to my stomach. It’s all clear to me now. Everything about you, and then you have the audacity to judge my sister? Now I know why you couldn’t stand for me to make love to you. All the time making up one excuse after another one.”

  “Stiles, please. Listen to me. It wasn’t like that. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you so badly, but I didn’t know how. What happened between me and Frankie was a long time ago. It’s you I love. You have to believe me.”

  “Believe you? Why would I believe anything you have to say? You proved that you’re just as much a liar as Frankie and Audrey too for that matter. Did you know that Francesca had been molested? Did you?” he demanded to know as he drew in closer to her face.

  Tilting her head back in fear, Rena answered, “No, I didn’t know anything about that. Frankie never told me.”

  “I can’t believe this crap. I can’t. And Pastor heard you and Frankie talking about this? That’s why he had the stroke, isn’t it? Because of you two sick…” Stiles threw his hands up and folded his lips before the words he wanted so badly to call her, burst forth.

  Rena’s eyes grew large as baseballs. She didn’t know what to say because as bad as she hated to face it, Stiles was telling the truth. It was her and Frankie’s fault. Pastor had heard them and it was too much for him to take in.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Stiles continued hollering. “It’s your fault that my father almost died! Yours and Frankie’s. I have to get away from you. I can’t stand the sight of you.”

  Stiles abruptly turned, pounced into their closet and began pulling clothes off the hangers. He reached above his head on the top shelf of the closet and grabbed a piece of his luggage. Throwing his clothes into it, he shoved pass Rena, stepped over the mess he’d made, before he stopped in front of the chest of drawers. He yanked out underwear and socks.

  “Stiles, don’t do this. We need to talk. Please, I need to tell you everything.”

  Without missing a beat, Stiles continued stuffing the suitcase. “There’s nothing else you can tell me, Rena. You’ve already managed to destroy my life. What else could you possibly have to say?” He didn’t turn to look at her at all.

  “I haven’t been exactly truthful about the reason I wouldn’t let you. Well, you know, make love to me.”

  This time Stiles did stop and turn around. With a white tee shirt in hand he looked at her. Her hair was crumpled, her cheeks were red and her eyes were puffy.

  “Why would you want to explain the reason for something that I already know? I just said it, or didn’t you hear me? Maybe you were too busy trying to make me feel sorry for what you did to me.” He huffed and hit his chest. “But come on, give it a shot. Let’s hear what else you have to say, Rena.”

  “Stiles, it’s important that you know I never meant to hurt you. I love you. I love you with all of my heart and soul. You deserve to know all of the truth, not part of it.” Shaking, she moved to the bed and sat down. There was no way she could remain standing after what she was about confess.

  Stiles stood in the same place, next to the chest of drawers, in total silence.

  “I didn’t…I couldn’t let you make love to me.” Again, Rena’s head dropped in shame. “I couldn’t because,” she paused as a knot formed in her throat. “Because I contracted an STD from Frankie.” Hot, fresh tears spouted.

  With one step, Stiles was standing over her. “What did you just say?

  Rena repeated herself with fear in her eyes and in her spirit.

  “An STD?” He flipped his hands up in the air and twirled around, his head tilted back until his body had made a 360 degree turn. Looking at Rena again, with balled fists, he tried to hold back the fury that demanded to be set free. “What kind of STD?” he asked between clenched teeth.

  Slowly, as if in slow motion, Rena raised her head. “Genital herpes.”

  Stiles’s head began to swim. The pulse in his temples pounded like a heart beating against his chest. Sweat popped out on his forehead and his tightened fists, tightened even more. Without warning, a sickening, growling type of laugh eman
ated from his throat.

  Rena leaned back, afraid of what Stiles was about to do. Crawling across the bed, she tried to escape from his reach, but his long arms grabbed her by her ankles and pulled her back toward him. He violently jerked her and she flipped on her back to face his wrath. Tears pounded her face. His tears, not hers. Rena braced herself when she saw the rage in his eyes and the perfectly formed fist coming toward her.

  Stiles towered on top of her with an anger he’d never experienced before in his life. An inch from her face, his hand was stilled by a power greater than his own and he jumped up off of his wife.

  Rena hopped off the bed, rushed inside of the bathroom, and locked the door behind her. Shaking, she slid down the cold ceramic tiled wall and cried.

  Stiles stepped over the partially packed suitcase and stormed out of the bedroom without it. He grabbed his keys off of the kitchen countertop, bolted outside and climbed into his car. His rage had frightened even him, as he drove along Berry Hill Drive until he was out of their neighborhood. Blinded by confusion and angered by hurt, Stiles drove and didn’t stop until he reached the church.

  Pulling into Pastor’s personal parking space, Stiles was greeted by the building engineer.

  “Pastor Stiles, what are you doing back here so late? Did you forget something?”

  “No, I need to spend some with just me and the Lord, so don’t bother about me. I’m going to be here a while.”

  “Sure. I’m about to lock up then. How is Pastor’s recuperation coming along?”

  “He’s fairing better. God is able, you know,” Stiles told him with little enthusiasm in his normally confident voice.

  “That’s good. Tell him I asked about him, if you will and that I’m keeping him in my prayers.”

  “Sure, I’ll let him know.”

  “Thank you, Pastor Stiles. Well, I’m going to get out of your way. I’ll see you tomorrow, if it’s the Lord’s will.” The engineer tilted his baseball cap at Stiles and walked off in the direction of his Dodge Ram.