Love UnCharted (Love's Improbable Possibility) (34 page)

During my ride to church, I realize that Azmir has once again broken a piece of my heart. I know there’s no such thing as a perfect relationship and the people involved hurt each other from time to time. This was one of those times for Azmir and me. He didn’t believe that I wasn’t the woman on camera giving a total stranger head. He also showed no comfort for my heartache of seeing my dear friend joining in. How insensitive can the most endearing man on the face of the planet be? As I’m pulling into the church’s parking lot I force the frontal section of my mind clear. I needed to cleanse spiritually. I could think of Azmir later.

Just after the benediction, Pastor Edmondson gets up to make his announcements and acknowledges special guests, a Pastor Green and his family, visiting from a church in Anaheim. I was surprised that a pastor would dip out on his own Sunday morning worship to attend another’s but then Pastor Edmondson mentions today’s his birthday and he was honored that Pastor Green and family will be joining him and his family for dinner to celebrate. That was nice, I thought.

I could tell Pastor Edmondson was in a rather sentimental mood. He even announced the recent engagement of Pastor Green’s son. The church went up in applause. Pastor Edmondson turned around where Pastor Green and other dignitaries were seated on the altar and asked Pastor Green the name of his soon to be daughter-in-law. This was a rare display of their personal lives considering this is a fifteen thousand member church. Our services were televised so there was little time to go off the program like this. I thought it was a refreshing change. It seemed like a personal moment for Pastor Edmondson and because I had grown so fond of him I didn’t mind sharing in the moment.

Pastor Green says the name of the young lady who will be marrying his son, but because he wasn’t mic’d most couldn’t hear him. Pastor Edmondson turns back to the crowd and says, “April Miller...April Miller, would you mind standing?”

My head started spinning at the possibility of seeing another April Miller this morning. As did the other parishioners, I twisted and turned in my seat to locate the woman. She was actually two rows in front of me. She stood, wearing a bright green two piece suit with a matching wide brim hat that had ivory stripes encircling it. She faced straight ahead at first to address Pastor Edmondson before turning around to wave to those of us behind her. When she did, my body flashed cold when I realized it
was
April Miller! The church was still clapping as she implemented her pageant wave to them. I was surprised when her eyes locked with mine. She gave me a surprised and enthused wave. I seriously doubt if my reaction and excitement mirrored hers. 

After service was over, she quickly makes her way to me.
 

“Hey, girl! What are you doing here?” she says as if church was the last place she would expect to see me.

“I attend this church. And I see you’re an advent goer as well,” I say sarcastically.

She catches on to my attitude quickly. “Can we talk outside?” she asks. But before I can agree, we’re interrupted.
 

“Ap, we can exit in the rear,” a light-skinned brother with sandy brown hair says as he approaches her.

“Oh, Gerald! This is my friend, Rayna, that I’ve told you about. We went to school together in North Carolina,” she tried to say with mustered excitement. 

“Gerald Green. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I rarely get to meet any of April’s long-term friends,” he smiled warmly and extended his hand. I immediately take notice of his beautiful green eyes. They’re befitting of his name.

“Pleased to meet you, David,” I reply. 

As we exchange pleasantries, Pastors Edmondson and Green walk up on us.
 

“Hey, son. We’re headed out now to make our reservation,” the senior Green says. He’s short and gave several of his features to his son.

David smiles. “Yes. I was coming to grab my fiancée. She’s here catching up with an old college buddy,” he says, regarding me politely.

“Dad, Pastor Edmondson, this is Rayna. I’m not sure if she’s a member here—” he says before being interrupted.

“Brimm. How does it goes there, Rayna?” Pastor Edmondson greets me warmly. “Rayna here is my daughter in Christ. I know her very well. I am pleased she’s attached to this fold,” Pastor Edmondson informs the small crowd that has now gathered around me. He has his hands on my shoulders like a father would his daughter. Though I didn’t realized he viewed me so dearly, it felt good to be connected. I patted his right hand on my shoulder. He made an attempt at making me feel welcomed. 

“If you don't mind, I’d like to walk Rayna out. I’ll be right out as soon as see her to her car. Please?” she asked politely.
Whoa?
When did April develop etiquette?

After taking two glances, one at me and the other at her, Pastor Edmondson insists, “The birthday boy here consents. We’ll meet you ‘round back.” He speaks with a smile that said his words were final. “Rayna dear, I’ll see you on Wednesday?” he confirms by way of a goodbye.

“Until Wednesday,” I bade. And we turn toward the entrance of the sanctuary.

“Rayna, I’m sorry. I had no idea!” was April’s response to my news of the released video. I was appalled by it. We were beside my car discussing recent events.

“April, I was hoping for more than a weak apology. Not only is Azmir’s reputation on the line, but so is my word and professional image as well as Michelle’s memory.” She grimaces before she turns and gazes off into the distance with a forlorn expression. “April, you know I wasn’t there!” I plead.

“Rayna, what do you expect for me to do—go hold a press conference, admitting that it was me on my knees giving a total stranger head?” she snorts in aggravation.

“So, it’s okay for Azmir and me to suffer when we had
nothing
to do with it. And what would Michelle think? Are you...kidding me?”

She pauses to consider my words. Within seconds, I see the tears she’s trying to fight back. A car approaches us from a short distance and beeps the horn. We turn to see it’s her fiancé and his family.
 

My sharp, life-threatening gaze doesn’t leave April’s face as she processes my words.

All of a sudden, she grabs my hand and clasps them in hers, gently and kisses them in humility. It was then that I notice the tattoo on her right hand in that area between her thumb and her index finger.
That’s the same one from the video.
 I guess I’d never paid April much mind. She was Michelle’s cousin, not my friend. At best, she and Britni were occasional associates.

“Rayna, I am so, so, so, so sorry. I can’t do it. I have so much riding on this right now,” with widened eyes boring into me, she admits while gesturing to her pending family on the car behind her. “I swear if there were something that I could do without jeopardizing this, I would. I pray that all works out for you and Azmir. I can honestly understand the pressure of chasing down love. You understand, don’t you?” she said with tears in her eyes.

I jerk my hands from her grip and call on every bit of decorum I possessed to not haul off and slap the taste out of her mouth. She just told me that her life with her fiancé trumped what I had with Azmir. And she didn’t even acknowledge Michelle’s disgraced memory. Who needs enemies when you have shallow, faux family-friends like the one who stood before me? 

I gave her the exact response Azmir would have as my parting words, “Indeed,” and I turned to get in my car.
 

My dignity had been challenged and although it prevailed, I felt I owed her at least a nudge in the forehead for her selfishness. I was once again confronted with that feeling of loneliness. I was in a place all by myself. Azmir doubted me and my only redeemer just told me she wouldn’t help. I cried the entire way to the marina. I didn’t understand just how I’d gotten back
here
—with my back up against the wall.

One thing was for sure: I would not be living with a man who all but accused me of being a whore. I couldn’t get past that. He was accusing me of behaving like a slut on the vacation that he paid for. I had fallen in love with him by that time—
and I told him!
My feelings were doubted along with my reputation and—
here again
—dignity. There was no way that we could go any further in this relationship if he obviously didn’t trust me.

Before I knew it, I was pulling up to the high-rise at the marina. Once inside, I headed straight to the bedroom and started pulling my clothes into a cheap suitcase I’d purchased from doing a bit of unexpected shopping while out on the East Coast during my last trip. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to take everything, but I tried getting as much as I could in there.

As I’m tossing in underwear I hear, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I jumped and nearly fell on my behind, startled.

It was Azmir in a dark blue sweat suit. His towering body was poised in a manner that was defensive. I’ve seen him like this. It was becoming all too familiar now.
Does he feel he can address me like this because he believes I’m the one on the video?
A sharp pain ran through my chest.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” I said, out of breath.

Wow! Didn't realize I was expending so much energy doing this.

Azmir went to say something, but used his fist to muzzle it. He threw his arm against the frame of the walk-in closet door and gave a distressed look. It was time for me to go. I didn’t want a showdown. I barely zipped up my little piece of luggage and I rolled it out through the other entrance of the closet. I passed Azmir as he rested the back of his head on the door frame.
 

“Rayna, you’re not leaving,” he said calmly. Too evenly.  I maintain my stride to the door. He starts on my trail.
 

“Yo’, you’re not fucking leaving!” he yells at the top of his lungs, frightening the crap out of me. It stopped me in my tracks.

I turn around facing him, “You will not view me of as some type of whore and think that I’m going to live here and tolerate it. I don’t have to put up with that…and I won’t!” I tried to keep it as clean as possible. Although I’d given up profanity a little while ago, I was struggling here as Azmir was the second person that I wanted to cuss out today in four different languages.

“Rayna, you’re not leaving! Give me this!” Azmir demands as he attempts to snatch the suitcase from me. He could’ve taken it clear from me, but if he had, it would’ve been a more of a volatile nature. By him trying to release it from my grip, the cheap luggage bursts open and most of the contents spill onto the marble floor there in the foyer.

I’d lost it. I fell to my knees, wailing out of control. I don’t know what was more upsetting, this emotional tug of war or the fact that it was hard for me to control my emotions around this man. I didn’t understand what it was about him that caused me to become so unraveled in his presence, sexually and emotionally.
Why do I cry so much?
What was I doing here?
Just twenty-four hours ago things were so peaceful. Is this what relationships are really like? I was at such a loss. 

“Wait...baby...I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he murmurs apologetically as he wraps me in an embrace. Azmir lowers himself down on the floor with me, trying to provide consolation.

“Azmir, I swear, that was not me! I was not there! I wouldn’t lie to you! I told you and Michelle those girls were not my friends. I would have never asked you to invite them out there. It wasn’t something...I particularly enjoyed. I know this hurts your image as you’re starting to become a public figure. But I swear I knew nothing about that event or tape,” I attempt unintelligibly. My body is shuddering uncontrollably. 

“I know. I’ve been an asshole about this whole thing,” he mutters while burying his face in my head. “I'm sorry, baby. I went about this thing all wrong,” his words are spoken softly.
 

“It wasn’t me! I swear...I wasn’t there!” I once again declare, sobbing into his arms.

“I know it wasn’t you,” he murmurs.

What?

I peer up at him, still unable to control my diaphragm from my crying. “You know?” I ask through tear-filled eyes.

He eventually gives a slight release from his tight grip,. “Yes, I know. I told you I’ve gone about this all wrong,” Azmir pauses in exasperation, trying to find the right words. “I let my manly pride get the best of me. After watching the tape for the second time and really studying it, I noticed the tattoo on ol’ girl’s hand,” he informs while looking me square in the eyes with the most sincerity. “Plus,” he continues, “...the technique she used was not your style at all.” 

I jump, tossing my head back to get a clear view of Azmir who is wearing a placid expression. And out of nowhere a belly full of laughter exits my mouth. I belt out the biggest cackle. Azmir eventually contracts the infectious humor himself and lets a mild chuckle escape. I bolt over backwards laughing uncontrollably.

“Seriously, her grip was all off compared to yours. She ain’t deep throat that shit at all,” he jeered in attempt to extend my humorous state. And succeeded.

“Azmir, I didn’t have any technique until you arrived somewhere during that trip,” I squeeze out over laughs.

“Goddamn right. Your only mastered techniques were customized for my stick and mine only.” His lush lips twitch up into a charming smirk as he watch me laugh myself into hysteria.