The man had looked lonely sitting at the table, so she didn’t mind talking to him. G.I. was easy to talk to. She asked him questions, trying her best to steer away from anything that had to do with her personal life. If she’d told him about all the foster homes she’d lived in and things she’d seen and done to survive there, he probably would have looked for the nearest door marked with an exit sign.
When the night was over and he asked for her name and number, she made sure to give him her cell phone number. She had a home phone, but depending on her priorities from month to month, that phone often fell low on the list of necessities. She tried her best to keep her cell phone on just in case G.I. ever called.
After not hearing from him for a couple of days, Nina figured he had only talked to her to pass time that night. She abandoned all thoughts about him calling, which wasn’t a hard thing for her to do. The foster care system had taught her not to get her hopes up.
But one night, the phone call came. She’d pinched herself a few times during the conversation to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. They’d talked until the battery on her cell phone beeped with a low signal. Again, they talked mostly about him. He seemed to need someone to talk to, and Nina didn’t mind at all.
G.I told her personal things she was surprised to hear. She hardly knew the man, and he was telling her things a gold-digger would have loved to hear. Lucky for him, she wasn’t the type to run to the tabloids for a few quick bucks. She figured there must have been something in his spirit that told him she could be trusted. After a while, Nina felt the same way about G.I.
She’d told him things she’d never even told the social workers she was the closest to as a child. She told him about physical abuse she’d suffered from some of her foster parents and from some of the other foster kids. She had also told him about how she went hungry at night in some of the homes until she got smart and learned how to steal food and money to get by. It was in foster care that she learned how to budget and handle money so well. Nina could stretch a dollar further than anyone she’d ever known, especially when she had no idea where more money might come from or when she might actually get another meal.
She was truly thankful to God that she had never been sexually abused. She’d heard stories from girls and boys alike that had been abused at the hands of their caretakers. Nina didn’t know how she would’ve turned out if that had ever happened to her. She already had enough psychological problems stemming from abandonment issues and control issues, which often caused her self-esteem to be low.
George hadn’t turned a deaf ear when she shared her past. He’d done just the opposite, causing them to be drawn closer to each other. He helped her with her issues of low self-esteem. He made her understand that God had not left or forsaken her. He also made her understand that everything in life happened for a reason and that the storms she’d gone through had actually made her stronger, and at some point in her life, her experiences would help others.
Within a few short months, they were married, and she felt like a real life Cinderella. Their wedding had been featured in Essence and Jet magazines. It had felt surreal then and still sometimes seemed surreal, especially when nightmares of the past crept into her psyche. She had dreams, which often made her wake in cold sweats. For long moments after waking up, she had to acclimate herself to her surroundings, wondering which foster home she might be in. It was only after she focused on the golden angel statue she kept on her nightstand at home and saw the glowing light from her similarly golden hued bathroom, that she realized she wasn’t back at Old Lady Crabby’s or any of the other houses.
The nightmares had pretty much ceased until George found out about her gambling. Nina had been good with money, but after she got married and saw the seemingly endless supply of money, she’d started enjoying things she’d never been able to enjoy before. The newly acquired money had introduced her to a whole new world of food, travel, and even gambling.
It didn’t take her long to find out that with gambling, she could win more money. In the beginning, it had been fun to buy a scratch off ticket here and there, winning five dollars or twenty dollars. One time she’d won a thousand dollars on one of the tickets. Out of her winnings, she’d taken a hundred dollars of the money and bought more scratch off tickets, keeping the hundred dollar pace up on a weekly basis for months.
She’d also bought a few random lottery tickets, but never won anything with them so she abandoned that idea. The thrill of scratching off tickets was more alluring anyway. Her hundred dollar obsession turned into a three hundred, and then five hundred dollar obsession. Before Nina knew it, the amount she was spending was outweighing the winnings.
She’d also wanted to go to a Bingo parlor to see what the big deal about them was. Old Lady Crabby always went on Wednesday nights to play Bingo. Nina often heard her on the phone with friends bragging about her winnings. So Nina found a local place to play and was instantly hooked. And just like with the tickets, before she knew it, the money she was putting into the games was out weighing the winnings. And even though she wanted to stop playing, the possible thrill of being the one to yell Bingo for the jackpot, kept her coming back.
Nina had gotten to the point in which she was spending her entire paycheck and borrowing money from check cashing places. And what had once given her euphoric feelings had ended up being a burden.
She told herself she’d have to stop one day—this was after she started bouncing checks and owing various check cashing places around the city of Greenville. Nina had even sunk so low as to borrow money from one of the church’s bank accounts that she had access to, all the while vowing that she’d pay it all back.
Before she had a chance to win back enough money, George had confronted her. She’d been devastated and ashamed. He’d gone and hired a private investigator who’d found out what she’d been doing. When confronted with the proof, Nina realized she had a problem with gambling that was totally out of hand.
George helped her by paying back the check cashing places and replenishing the church bank account. She was ashamed for what she’d done and refused to go to counseling for the gambling. She didn’t want her shame to turn into a scandal for her husband, who didn’t have any blemishes on his personal record. Nina knew if the information got out, it would make every one of the tabloids.
She told George she would be fine and that her gambling days were over. But each and every time she went to a gas station or the grocery store, the lottery scratch offs beckoned her. Going cold turkey on the gambling turned out to be harder than she thought it would be.
Soon the nightmares about her past returned, and she began experiencing anxiety attacks. At her wits end, one evening, Nina drove to the house of the one and only true friend she’d acquired in the church since marrying George. The friend listened to Nina’s dilemma and told her about a drug that might help her with the anxiety.
The drug was called valium, and this friend knew a doctor who could prescribe a few pills for Nina. Nina took the friend up on the information and obtained some pills.
They’d helped at first, but now it seemed as if the pills weren’t working as well as they used to. She needed more of them more often to suppress the anxiety and ward off the dreams. And on the downside, she’d been getting dizzy lately, her vision was often blurry, and she was constipated beyond belief.
Nina eyed the pill container on the dresser. The euphoria of taking the helpful little pill with the ‘V’ on it had worn off just like the gambling. When she didn’t take them, the side effects were too severe, and she couldn’t fake the funk, as the phrase went. And even though she wanted to stop taking the valium, she found herself dependent on them.
George had been asking her questions about how she was feeling and if there was anything she wanted to talk about. She couldn’t tell him about the pills, especially after he’d already helped her with all the gambling debts she’d incurred. How could she tell him she was hooked on drugs?
She was ashame
d and had really felt like some sort of drug fiend, especially when she found herself on all fours searching the floor for a pill. Her cheeks had flushed and felt like they were burning when he made the comment about her needing a fix. She was surprised George hadn’t noticed the redness in her cheeks.
Nina sat on the floor beside her twin bed. She stared at her husband as he peacefully dozed on the bed across from hers. She’d have to figure out a way to wean herself off of the drug without him finding out. She originally wanted to do so gradually, but since she’d lost her whole bottle of valium, Nina had a sinking feeling that she was going to have to do it the hard way—cold turkey, just like she’d done with her gambling problem.
Chapter 24
Beryl Highgate
Thursday: 7:15 A.M.
Refreshed from her shower, Beryl stepped out. With her face still wet and eyes closed, she maneuvered her hands along the towel rack, feeling for her towel. Instead of feeling the softness of terrycloth, she felt the roughness of something damp. She couldn’t make out at first, but soon realized it was her husband’s underwear.
The refreshing invigoration she’d felt from her cozy shower only moments before had been depleted like air being quickly released from a pierced balloon. With jarring dread, Beryl was reminded that her husband wasn’t using the brains God gave him. She was so tired of letting him use her brain to think all the time.
To make matters worse, Beryl’s reflection stared back at her through the partially steamed bathroom mirror. There were bags and dark circles under her eyes. And even though she’d had what felt like the best night’s sleep in months, it was impossible to think that one night of sleep could undo years of the stress and strain that had overtaken her body.
The underwear hanging on the towel rack was only one of the subtle reminders Beryl knew she would get throughout the day, reinforcing the reason she’d taken a chunk out of her savings and paid for the retreat. This was to be a last ditch effort in hopes to save her marriage. She prayed Travis would get some clues on what she needed out of their marriage. And in the process, also get a clue about what kind of father their kids needed. But so far, it didn’t seem like Travis was learning anything.
Sure he was talking a lot, but Beryl knew all about Travis’ ramblings. Most of his rambling, which embarrassed her beyond belief, was just so he could find a way to fit into conversations others were having, always trying to bring the conversation back to something he could relate to in the world of television.
While Charlotte was having problems with a husband who was stepping out on her with other women, Beryl had a problem too; Travis staying in watching the television. She wished he would stay on a job for more than a few months at a time. She figured everyone probably thought her husband was a television addict. And they were probably right.
She didn’t really think Travis was addicted to television. She actually thought he was just plain lazy. She hated to think that about her own husband, but as she analyzed things, it was the only solution that made any sense.
Point blank, the man didn’t want to work, didn’t want to keep a job, or worse yet, couldn’t keep a job. Meanwhile, she worked full time managing a fast food restaurant and selling makeup on the side, struggling to make ends meet.
Beryl tried to be understanding, especially in the beginning. She knew firsthand what it meant to stand by your man. Her mother had done so when Beryl’s father broke his back on the job. Beryl’s mother stepped in carrying their entire family by working two jobs day and night. So when Travis lost his jobs, Beryl knew exactly what she needed to do.
But during their relatively short five-year marriage, he’d had eight different jobs. The years had been filled with pink slips and reasons—actually excuses—Travis had given her as to why he was again out of work. One day something finally clicked in Beryl’s head. The man just didn’t want to work.
And if she had any doubts about his lack of desire to keep a job, Travis made it very clear to her one day when she was pressuring him to find a job. He’d blatantly told her he was waiting for the right kind of job, and he wasn’t going to work just anywhere and take just anything. He told her that he wanted an employer who would appreciate his associates degree in general studies. This was during a time when Travis had been dropping her off at work, because their second car had broken down, needing a new alternator. With money as tight as it was, Beryl couldn’t spare the money to buy an alternator and have the car fixed. She couldn’t believe Travis had the nerve to continue to stand on his soapbox about not taking any kind of job. If it hadn’t been for her two children, Beryl knew she would have strangled the man.
As the realization set in that Travis didn’t want to work or pull his weight around the house, Beryl realized she couldn’t change the man. The only thing she could change was herself and the situation she and her children were enduring.
Before hearing about the marriage retreat, she’d contemplated leaving, but her conscience wouldn’t allow her to do that. Plus, she really loved Travis, and deep down just wanted him to do the right thing; act like a man and take care of his family.
So, with hopeful reluctance, she’d pulled two thousand dollars out of her four thousand dollar savings account, money she’d stashed away for a rainy day, and paid for a spot at the retreat to help save their marriage. It was already Thursday, and Travis hadn’t changed one bit.
Beryl didn’t let Travis’s lack of clarity bother her. She’d done all she could do, as far as they were concerned. Now it was up to her to do what she needed to do to get her life back. She was going to stop taking care of an adult sized kid. If she had to do it by herself, she’d move on and take care of the two children she had given birth to.
There was a phrase that stuck in her head: ‘I can do bad by myself.’ But Beryl had a better phrase that kept running through her mind: I can do better by myself.
Once she located her towel, she dried off and dressed. She picked up her sketchpad and charcoals and headed for the bedroom door. Just as she was about to touch the doorknob, Travis stirred on the bed.
“Baby, what time is it?” Travis asked.
Beryl sighed, looking at the clock. “It’s seven fifty-five.”
“Ah, man, why didn’t you wake me up?” Groggy, Travis sat up with eyes still closed.
Feeling her heartbeat quicken, Beryl took another deep breath, deciding she wouldn’t start the morning off with an argument that would put her in a bad mood. Especially knowing it would be a waste of time and breath anyway.
“It’s Thursday, Travis,” Beryl said.
“Huh? No, I said what time is it,” Travis said.
Was the man too lazy to look over at the same clock she was looking at? She shook her head.
“It’s Thursday, Travis,” Beryl said again.
“Why are you talking crazy? I didn’t ask what day it is, I asked what time it was.”
“I know what you asked. But I felt it was more important for you to know what day it was,” Beryl said with a calm voice. She wasn’t going to let Travis ruin the rest of their stay.
“Why you trippin’?” Travis asked, finally opening his eyes.
“Oh, I’m not trippin’,” Beryl said. “You can best believe that.” Then she left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.
Chapter 25
Beryl Highgate
Thursday: 7:58 A.M.
Beryl sniffed the air as she walked into the kitchen, trying to decipher what Shelby had whipped up for their breakfast. Everyone except Phillip and Travis were already gathered in the kitchen.
She took another sniff. Working in the fast food industry for so many years, her nose was able to hone in on the source of many aromas. The smell of freshly brewed coffee was prevalent, with an undertone of something sweet and toasted.
It was amazing to Beryl how the aroma of food, and music from a good song, could momentarily take her thoughts to another place, making her forget the woes in her life.
On the table, spread o
ut on a platter, were a variety of bagels surrounded by an assortment of cream cheeses and fresh fruit. There were two halves of a cinnamon raisin bagel in a wide mouth toaster sitting on the bar. They were popping up as she walked in.
Normally, Beryl would have frowned about having a continental breakfast, but after the variety of breakfast styles Shelby had already treated them with over the past days, the light breakfast was actually a welcomed site.
Accustomed to eating cinnamon raisin bagels with honey walnut cream cheese, Beryl saw this as an opportunity to try different types of bagels with different types of cream cheese. She wanted to think outside of the box. And even though this kind of thinking would be uncomfortable, she hoped for some pleasant rewards. The old way of thinking was traditional, which equated to boring in her eyes.
Beryl took a seat at the table. “What kinds of cream cheeses are these?”
Shelby looked over and pointed to the containers. “Strawberry, honey and nut, plain, and blueberry.”
“I’m going to try the strawberry and blueberry. I’ve never tried them before,” Beryl said.
“Don’t get hooked on it,” Nina said, “or you might end up with hips like mine.”
Beryl didn’t know how to take Nina. In the beginning she seemed a bit snobbish. Actually, the word bourgeois-ghetto would be more of an applicable word if the phrase existed. The woman dressed immaculately, but some of the stuff that rolled from her mouth, didn’t suggest the culture she tried to display.
Beryl heard the sound of the blow dryer being turned on in their cabin room. She rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time since she’d been there. Travis was drying his damp underwear.
“I don’t plan on getting hooked. I’m going to enjoy the rest of my break from the real world, but once I get back, some things are definitely going to change,” Beryl said as she picked up a plain bagel and placed it in the toaster. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what Phillip told us regarding the seven steps to rebuilding.”
Redemption Lake Page 19