The Double Life: A Novel By Shea Lynn

by Shea Lynn

  He spent most of his evenings and nights with us, but we had yet to discuss when or if he would eventually move back home. While we worked on us, we weren’t intimate. One of the things we’d learned in therapy was to take our time before becoming sexual. Cameron had told me that his goal was to rebuild my trust in him and that only then would we really be able to connect and move forward with a physical relationship. This was a blessing. Maybe I could re-align my intellect with my desire.

  On the next Sunday morning, my family made it to church just in time for the start of Sunday school. Cameron, Nina, and I all headed in three different directions to three different classes and when I laid eyes on my beautiful Sunday school teacher, tears rose to my eyes and I couldn’t fight the smile that tugged on the corners of my mouth.

  It was the first time I’d seen Sidney since that night.

  I missed her.

  She wasn’t taking my calls. She wasn’t returning my emails. She had severed our connection. I was in a very conflicted point in my life and even though I didn’t want to need her, I did. I couldn’t fight needing her. I stood in the doorway of our Sunday school classroom for a moment, my mouth nearly hanging open at the sight of her.

  “Come on in, Sister Wilkins,” said one of the ladies seated around the long rectangular table in the room.

  I gave a weak smile before sliding into a chair. Sidney was at the head of the table, leading the lesson. I stole a quick glance at her before grabbing a Sunday school reader and trying to follow along with the message.

  Sidney cleared her throat and looked around at our group, “Let’s read this passage from the book of Job. Chapter one, Verse eight says, ‘Then the LORD said to Satan, "Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil.’”

  A sanctimonious round of “mmm’s” and “amen’s” flittered around the table.

  Sidney continued on. “That’s a powerful message, isn’t it? This is the Lord bestowing praise onto one of His children. God specifically calls out that Job shuns evil.

  “In preparation for today’s lesson, I went to my dictionary and looked up the word ‘shun’. The definition I found said that shun means to avoid deliberately. It doesn’t mean to hang out and await temptation so that you can then try to avoid it. It means to purposefully and deliberately avoid those temptations that are not pleasing to God.

  She paused and looked around the table. But she didn’t look at me. “How many of us can say we take after Job? How many of us can say we shun evil?”

  Sister Callaway was seated on my left. The faint scent of her perfume tickled my senses and she shook her head. “That is so true, Sister King. So true.”

  Ever brilliant, she was dead right. I understood her message. No phone calls, no emails, no text messages, but an answer for me wrapped in the bow of a Sunday school lesson. Brilliant.

  When the lesson concluded, Sidney smiled nervously and she cleared her throat again. I was just as surprised as the rest of our Sunday school class, when she announced that she was resigning as Sunday school teacher. I sat in my seat, surrounded by well-dressed Christian women, and heard the short gasps of surprise from my peers. Sidney explained that between her family obligations and career, she “simply could not perform the duties of Sunday school teacher with the same level of devotion” she felt was necessary.

  As she spoke to us, her gaze averted me. She introduced us all to her replacement, a quiet, mild-mannered young woman named Erica. We all greeted her appropriately before Sidney dismissed us to Sunday morning service.

  As Sidney stood and graciously accepted the gratitude and heartfelt “we’ll miss you’s” of the class, I made small talk with the others around me, studying the woman in my heart with a wandering eye, waiting for a chance to talk to her.

  I was strategic enough to wait for the line of well-wishers to dissipate before I approached her. She was ending her conversation when I finally got my chance.

  Sister Gloria Patterson heard me approach and smiled broadly, “Dayna, I was just telling Sidney how much we are going to miss her,” she said.

  She turned her attention back to Sidney. “I have really enjoyed you.”

  I could sense her discomfort and she replied, “Thank you. I have enjoyed it too. It’s just been so hard to try and balance everything. Maybe I can try again when the kids get a little older.”

  “I hope you do. God Bless you, Sweetheart. I’ll see you in service,” said Gloria, before giving Sidney one last hug and heading out to the sanctuary.

  At last, we were alone. We stared at each other for a moment, frozen in place. She exhaled and I exhaled and I was the first to speak.

  “Hi Sidney.”

  “Hi.”

  “I miss you so much,” I whispered.

  “Please don’t.”

  And I didn’t. We both knew where the path led from the starting point of “I miss you so much”. The problem was that neither of us knew the ending point.

  I swallowed. I looked away before meeting her eyes again. “You’re stepping down?”

  Her brow knitted together and she replied, “You know I have to do this.”

  I went ahead and did what she’d asked me not to do. But I did chew on my lip before I did. I was nervous. But my words were operating of their own accord. “Do you miss me?” I asked.

  Her eyes softened a bit. “Sweetie, you know I miss you.”

  “Then can you please start accepting my calls? Responding to my emails? Acknowledging that I exist?”

  The softness left her eyes and her tone became a delicate balance between cynical and clinical. “And then what?” she asked.

  Now I was confused. “What do you mean?”

  She lowered her voice and stepped closer to me. “So we call and we chit chat and we send email and we continue on with a charade that we can just ‘be friends’. Where does that lead?”

  I swallowed thickly. “It leads to a friendship.”

  She shook her head and folded her arms across her chest. “No. It leads us right to temptation. Waiting for the right moment to finish where we left off. Were you listening to me at all this morning?” she asked.

  I felt like a scolded school child. My teeth clenched. “I’m not an idiot, Sidney. I heard you. I know the lesson was about me.”

  Sidney’s tone grew softer. She wasn’t angry and the sound of her hushed voice was almost comforting to me. “Not just you. About us. And if we want to shun temptation, we can’t be friends. I can’t be around you without wanting to kiss you. If you care about me even half as much as I care about you, you’ll understand. And you’ll understand why I can’t just take your calls or send you emails. All thoughts about you lead me to temptation.”

  She held my gaze and I knew she was right. And even though I knew she was right, it was still instinct for me to touch her.

  I reached for her arm, but she shied away from me. “Sid . . .”

  She looked toward the door, making sure we were alone. “Dayna, don’t…”

  “Sidney…”

  And just then, the bass music from the sanctuary floated over to us and Rev. Adams, one of the associate pastors, popped his head in and reminded us that service was starting. As though we hadn’t heard the bass playing or the drums sounding.

  Sidney smiled up at him and walked past me, without so much as a backwards glance. I watched her go and sighed so deeply my shoulders drooped as the breath left my body.

  And then I knew that was it. I knew we were done. I knew she was done trying and I was done chasing and both of us were done hurting.

  I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath to still my emotions, before hurrying out of the room to grab my choir robe and get ready for service.

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Sidney

  Matthew 7:7 says, “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find”. I asked for strength and it was given to me. He gave me enough strength to make it through service and n
ot break down during prayer time and the alter call. I even had a little left over to bid farewell to Dayna and her husband as they left the church……together. His hand sitting firmly on her lower back.

  I probably should have been clearer in my request because that strength started to dissipate when I made it into our vehicle after church.

  “What do you guys want to eat for dinner?” I asked. I’d asked them out of habit, but my mind was elsewhere.

  “Pizza!” Devann replied.

  “Hot dogs!” said Aiden.

  Aaron started the engine and said, “Sweetie, we’re going to your parents, remember?”

  That garnered my full attention. I clicked my seatbelt into place and asked, “What?”

  “Your mom said she’d already cooked and wanted us to come over. You might have been in the bathroom.”

  Strength had totally abandoned me and patience was also on his way out the door.

  My brow furrowed and I could feel wrinkles working themselves into the frown around my mouth. “You committed us to dinner without even asking me?”

  “Sidney, they’re your parents. What are you talking about?”

  He was right. They were my parents. I loved my parents. He loved my parents. The kids loved my parents. I just didn’t have the energy to keep up the façade that I was okay. I needed some time to come undone and he’d given my free time away.

  “You could have at least checked with me first. I could have had plans.”

  My husband sighed and his temple began to bob up and down. “Obviously, you didn’t have any plans. You just asked us what we wanted to eat.”

  “That’s not the point,” I countered.

  “Then what is the damn point?” he asked.

  “Ooooh. Potty words, Daddy,” Aiden chimed in from the back seat.

  I took a deep breath and said, “The point is, I wish you would have talked to me about it first.”

  “You know what? I’m tired of trying to always not do the wrong thing with you. Everything I do is the wrong thing. I thought I was helping you out. I made a decision and this decision comes with a free meal. I thought it was a good thing. And they are your parents.”

  I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “I don’t want to get into this right now. We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Whatever,” he said, pulling out of the parking lot.

  “Stop fighting. No fighting after church,” said Devann. She had the tone of a grade school teacher.

  “We’re not fighting. We’re just talking,” I answered.

  “Sounds like fighting to me,” said Devann.

  I turned around and cut my eyes at her, my tone clipped and motherly. “Well, it’s not.”

  Aaron didn’t respond. His hazel eyes were intently focused on the road and his right temple continued to dance.

  When we got to my parent’s house, Aaron disappeared with my father and the kids took off on their own mission. I wrapped an apron around my dress and helped my mother heat up the meal she’d already prepared.

  I sniffed a pan of fried chicken I’d just pulled from the oven and said, “Mama, this smells really good.”

  My mother smiled at me with her chestnut brown eyes and smooth brown sugar skin. “Thank you, Baby. I added some paprika to the breading. Let me know how you like it.”

  I smiled thinly. “Well, I can tell you now I’m gonna tear it up.”

  I sat that pan on the counter and went to grab the lid from the pot of green beans and burned myself in the process. That special pain of burning flesh shot up my right arm and pushed one angry word across my traitorous lips.

  “Shit.”

  Mama’s brown eyes shot over at me. I had never in my life cursed in front of my mother.

  Never.

  Ever.

  “Sorry, Ma,” I said, grabbing my arm and racing to the sink. I was more concerned about my mouth than the searing pain in my arm.

  “It’s okay. Let me help you.” She ran the water to make sure it was cold and helped me hold my dime-sized area of smoldering flesh underneath the cool stream.

  I’d wanted to avoid her eagle eyes. Wanted to work through this period of my life without having her worry. Without disappointing her. But she took a deep breath right at that moment and I knew, I knew she was getting ready to deliver a message to me.

  “Girl, I’m so worried about you,” she muttered.

  I swallowed thickly. Knowing what she meant but hoping I could get off easy this time. “Mama, I’ll be fine. It’s nothing. It’ll heal up in a day or two.”

  My mother shook her head. “That’s not what I’m talking about. You’re not yourself. You’re so cranky and irritable.”

  “Maybe my period’s just coming.”

  Mama sighed and I knew there was no getting off easy. “Sidney, girl you’ve been having periods since you were eleven years old and you’ve never been so irritable. You’ve been downright mean to Aaron. And that’s only the times I’ve seen you together. You’re short with the kids. Is everything alright?”

  My heart started racing and my throat was suddenly very dry.

  I kept my gaze focused on my burn and the running water. “Everything is fine, Ma. I’m just so worn out. I’m feeling a little drained. That’s all.”

  “Well, maybe you need to take some time off. You’re working too hard these days.”

  I smiled at her. “Ma, ‘You can never work too hard’. Remember you used to tell me that when I was in school?”

  She chuckled. “I did. But now that you’re older you have to know that’s a bunch of hogwash. I had to say something to keep you motivated.”

  “It worked.”

  “Yes, it did.” She moistened a paper towel before turning off the water.

  “Come sit with me at the table a minute,” she said.

  I followed her and she placed the cold compress on my wound.

  I looked at my mother. Really looked at her. Took in all that was her. White linen pant suit, tasteful gold accessories. She held her head high, like royalty. Everything about this woman was regal. And as she took a deep breath, I knew that she was getting ready to give me a lesson.

  “You know, I miss your brother every day,” she began.

  I looked over at her then. “You do?”

  “I do. I miss him a lot. He’s my first born. My only son.”

  “I miss him too, Ma.”

  My brother was the eldest sibling and my parent’s greatest failure. That second description wasn’t mine, but Mama’s. She felt somehow responsible for my brother’s drug addiction and inability to function in the real world. My father didn’t share her views. Daddy is a proud man and he was both exhausted and embarrassed by the behavioral abnormalities of his only son. He viewed Marcus as a responsible adult; a man in control of his own actions and consequences.

  It had been almost a year since we’d last heard from him. Marcus had been locked up after getting high and getting into a fight with another addict. Daddy went down and bailed him out of jail, brought him to the house, made him get showered and cleaned, gave him a good meal, put some clothes on him and gave him $200.

  And then he put Marcus out on the street and told him never to come back. At least not until he was clean.

  I had been there that night. I’d sat with my mother in the same kitchen at the same kitchen table and held her hand as she cried. Mama had known my father was right. She’d known that Marcus had to be cut off in order to help save him, but that didn’t mean the decision was easy to digest.

  My mother’s voice pulled me out of revelry.

  “Sidney, when I look back over my life, I regret that we put so much pressure on Marcus. We had such high hopes for him that I think his poor little mind just couldn’t take it. He wasn’t a school person. We wanted him to be a genius in the classroom and that just wasn’t him. He tried so hard to please us, but it was never enough.”

  I sighed and waited for her to continue.

  “Your brother was such a good baby. He w
asn’t real fussy. Real good temperament. Just like you.”

  “Yeah?” I asked.

  “Sure was. But the more pressured he felt, the less calm he became. And right before he started getting into the drugs so bad, he started acting just like you’re acting now. Irritated and angry.”

  I looked away then. “Ma, I’m not going to start smoking crack.”

  “You might not. But my point is this: I’ve lost one child to the worries of this world and I am not going to lose another one. Do you hear me?”

  I nodded.

  “Why did you step down today from teaching Sunday School?” she asked.

  Damn. Could I get away with nothing? I looked away, wanting my gaze to land anywhere but my mother’s eyes. “I uh…I just needed to. I can’t manage it right now.”

  “Look at me, Sidney.”

  I met her eyes with my own.

  The depth of concern in her eyes and the strength of the conviction in her voice were comforting. “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know what’s got you so irritated and out of sorts, but you need to pray on it and ask the Lord for help. And if you still can’t get it resolved then you come to me and I’ll do whatever it takes to help you. I just can’t let another child get lost in this world.”

  Tears rose to my eyes, my stomach churned and my lips trembled. How could she do that? How could she seem to see right through me? How did she know what I needed to hear?

  “Mama, what do I do if I keep praying and keep praying and keep trying and nothing changes?”

  She sighed then and gave me the most loving smile I’d ever seen. “You keep praying. He will never leave you nor forsake you. And you have to trust that sometimes, He’s brought you through something to help you learn something. You can’t ever give up.”

  I nodded.

  “And don’t forget I’m always praying for you.”