Cicely and Gretchen’s chatter fills my new car. They like the leather seats, and so do I. Of course, I didn’t go crazy in the automobile department. I bought a brand-new Honda Accord. It may not be a Benz or a Caddy, but it’s new, and it definitely rides better than the piece of crap that I was driving.
We pull up outside Troy’s new studio, which right now is nothing more than a small warehouse. From the outside it doesn’t look like much, but I know he’s already spent close to a quarter of a million dollars on the inside. I hope most of the money isn’t gone. There’s a huge young man, whom I’ve never seen before, standing at the door of the building.
He looks at me and the girls and asks, “May I help you?”
I try to keep smiling, although I’m irritated. I’m going to make it a point to tell Troy to teach his goons to recognize his family.
“I’d like to see Troy Lyons, please.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“I don’t need one.”
“No one is allowed to see Mr. Lyons without an appointment.”
“Not even his wife and children?”
“Mrs. Lyons?” Young black Hercules starts scrambling to his little post. He uses a little walkie-talkie to ask someone on the inside a question. He looks confused, as if he hasn’t been given a contingency plan for this situation.
“Young man, is there a problem?”
“No, Mrs. Lyons. Go right on up. Mr. Lyons’ office is upstairs.”
As soon as I enter the studio, my nostrils are accosted by the aroma of marijuana smoke. I probably shouldn’t even have my babies in here, but now I’m curious. I want to see what Troy is doing all day.
The downstairs is really just a huge room. It’s sparsely furnished and dimly lit. Music is being piped in from somewhere, and all the young people present look suspiciously mellow.
No one seems to notice me come in, and since there’s a huge spiral staircase in the middle of the room, I don’t need to ask for directions. I must be getting old, because these stairs are killing me. Or maybe I’m just fat and out of shape. Why didn’t Troy put in an elevator?
The entire upstairs is spacious like the downstairs. In one corner of the room is a huge desk where Troy is sitting. Perched on the edge of his desk is a beautiful ebony-toned sister. She’s singing something that I’ve never heard before. It doesn’t sound like anything Troy’s ever written. Troy is sitting back in his leather chair with a huge grin on his face. I must admit, though, the girl sounds like an angel, even if she doesn’t quite look like one.
Troy shouts, “Pam! Did you hear that? This woman is going to make us rich.”
I shout back, “She sounds good!”
Troy motions for me and the girls to come over. I see the girl up close, and she’s not as young as I thought. She has the smoothest and prettiest skin that I’ve ever seen. Her slanted eyes are almost catlike with their hazel hue; I wonder if they’re contacts. She is wearing a tight-fitting jean dress unbuttoned to her midthigh and tall leather boots. After taking her all in, I’m immediately uncomfortable. What Christian woman wouldn’t be?
“Pam, meet Aria. Aria, this is my wife and daughters.”
“What a quaint little family.”
“So, Troy,” I ask, “how did you find Aria?”
“Actually, I found him.”
This girl has a strangely seductive voice. It’s husky and quiet, and she forces you to strain your ears if you want to hear what she’s saying. I don’t like it. All I can imagine is her leading my husband off to some seedy hotel room and having her way with him. My God! I truly need to pull myself together.
“Yeah, Pam. I still can’t believe it myself. She just walked up to me and said, ‘I want to sing for you.’”
“Really? That’s fascinating. You just go up to strangers and sing for them?”
She’s laughing now, and it sounds like wind chimes.
“No, no. I knew that he was in the industry. He had that look.”
What look is she referring to? The Cadillac Escalade and those dreadful hip-hop fashions? If Troy buys another Sean John outfit, I think I’m going to lose my mind. To me, he looks like an old cootie.
Troy says, “All I had to do was hear that voice one time. I signed her immediately.”
“I see.”
“So what brings you down here anyway, Pam?”
“I was just in the neighborhood.”
Troy is grinning, but not paying much attention to me. He rifles through some papers and checks his watch.
“Well, you know you’re welcome here anytime, honey, but next time call first. Okay?”
I hear myself saying “Okay,” although I’m furious. And Ms. Aria seems to think the whole conversation is amusing. I might even be inclined to display some of my anger if I didn’t have my children with me.
I’m still angry even after the girls and I are in the car. Call first? Is he treating me like one of his groupies? I don’t know what Troy is thinking. Obviously, he’s not thinking at all.
For some reason, I’m not quite ready to go home. I can tell that the girls are getting restless. They probably want something to eat. I’m a little bit hungry myself. I almost want to turn around and go back to that studio and give Troy a piece of my mind. Or maybe I’m just hoping to find him in a compromising position.
I notice that I’m on Taylor’s street. I wonder if I should drop by. I don’t even know if I’m welcome, not after that mistress statement. I need to apologize for that. But I don’t think I want to revisit the topic, even for an apology. However, she hasn’t been at church in two weeks. It wouldn’t be right for me to not check up on her. She’s still my sister in Christ.
Gretchen and Cicely both sigh when they realize that I’m stopping the car and we’re not at home. I explain to them that we’re checking on a church friend. They still look disappointed.
Seconds after I ring the bell, I see Taylor’s head pop out of her door. She doesn’t look happy to see me. I smile anyway and wait for her to tell me to come upstairs. She reluctantly waves her hand, and the girls dash up what seems like a hundred steps.
Gretchen says, “Hi! Where’s Joshua?”
Taylor smiles. “He’s in his room playing with Legos. Do you want to join him?”
Both Gretchen and Cicely nod. I give them the okay, and they dash for the back of the apartment. They’ve only been here a couple of times. It’s funny how children remember things when they want to.
“Pam, what can I do for you?”
I really want to tell her about how I suspect my husband is doing drugs and his newest protégée, because right now I can’t think of anyone else to talk to. But Taylor is not my friend. Just a sister in Christ.
“I was just wondering how you’ve been, Taylor. You haven’t been at church in a couple of weeks.”
Taylor replies softly, “I’ve been in church. I just haven’t been to New Faith.”
“Oh, I see. Are you leaving our church?” I hope that she can hear the concern in my tone, because I really don’t want to see her go.
“I’m considering it. Can you really blame me?”
“Well, I don’t think you should have to leave.”
“I know I don’t have to, but mistresses aren’t really smiled upon, are they?” Taylor asks with a smirk, reminding me of my slight.
“About that . . . Taylor, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you that.”
“You said what you meant. Everybody else just looks at me out the corner of their eyes, like I’m about to steal their husband or something. It doesn’t help that Yvonne sits up in front of the church looking all pitiful. I don’t know if I’m going to put my son through that.”
“Have you tried talking to her?”
Taylor’s eyes widen incredulously. “Who? Yvonne? To tell you the truth, I’ve wanted to.”
“What would you say if she was willing?”
Taylor thinks for a moment and responds, “I would tell her how sorry I am that I allowed the devil to use me in coming against her marriage. I wouldn’t make any excuses or try to blame Luke, even though he is partially to blame.”
“I think Yvonne is intelligent enough to know that Luke is responsible for his actions.”
“Maybe . . . do you think she’d forgive me?” asks Taylor hopefully.
“She’s a reasonable woman. She may not completely forgive you immediately, but I don’t see why you two can’t come to some sort of truce.”
“You tell me how reasonable you’d be if your husband’s mistress wanted to be friends.”
“Her husband’s former mistress, right?” I ask. She nods. “I didn’t say be friends. I’m not crazy, but at least you all could figure something out so that you don’t have to leave your church home.”
“I don’t want to leave New Faith, but maybe it’s best if I lay low and visit some other churches for a while. At least until everything dies down.”
“I guess I can’t fault you for that. And if I was in your shoes, I’d probably do the same thing. So . . . how’s work?”
“Good. I got promoted. I’m Glenda’s personal assistant now.”
“I like to hear that.”
“Do you miss it yet?”
“What? Work? No, not yet. I kind of miss having something to do all day, but I do not miss coming in there.” I laugh. “Sure don’t.”
Gretchen comes jogging up from Joshua’s bedroom. She’s doing her pee-pee dance, and Taylor giggles.
“Do you have to use the bathroom, honey?”
Gretchen nods emphatically, and Taylor directs her to the bathroom. When she’s done, I already have my coat back on, and I’m putting Cicely’s on too. Taylor looks a bit disappointed.
“Are you leaving already?”
“Yeah, girl. I’d like to stay longer, but Gretchen and Cicely are hungry.”
“Well, okay. You know that you are always welcome to come by. I could use the company.”
I wonder if this is an open invitation of friendship. The smile on Taylor’s face is sincere. It’s been a long time since I had a girlfriend. When I married Troy, I thought that he should be my best friend and confidant. Sometimes a woman needs the honest opinion of another woman.
“Oh, girl, I’ll definitely be back.”
Yvonne
T
wo days have passed since Luke found out that he has a son. He hasn’t said anything to me about the subject, and I sure don’t want to start any controversy. I’ve been baking cookies and cakes—getting ready to try and have the merriest Christmas that I can hope for under these circumstances.
Luke left early this morning. He didn’t even say good-bye when he left. He was talking to someone on his cell phone. I think it was a lawyer. He’s dead set on not giving Taylor any of his hard-earned money. It’s a shame, and it makes me angry every time I think about it. If he had done his part from the jump, I probably still wouldn’t know about this mess.
I hear a car pull up outside, and I look out the window to see who it is. It’s Pam and her little girls. She’s got the girls bundled up in red wool coats. They look so cute. She’s here to pick up some Christmas cookies that I baked for them.
I swing open the door. “Merry Christmas, Sister Pam! Come on in.”
“Merry Christmas!” shouts Pam as she stomps the fresh snow from her boots.
I help Pam and the girls out of their coats and show Cicely and Gretchen to the kitchen table, where there are cookies and hot chocolate waiting. Little Gretchen loves my gingerbread cookies, and Cicely prefers the sugar cookies.
I fix hot chocolate for Pam and myself, and we go into the sitting room. I hope Pam stays awhile, because I could use a friend right now.
“You done with your shopping?” asks Pam.
“Yes. I only get gifts for Luke and Pastor and First Lady Brown.”
“I usually only shop for my household, but this year I got a little something for just about everybody I know.”
I smile when Pam pulls a package out of her bag. “Girl, you didn’t have to get me anything.”
Pam hands me the gift. “I know. But I wanted to. Why don’t you open it now? You don’t have to wait until Christmas.”
“All right.”
The wrapping paper is so pretty that I don’t want to rip it. Pam has an excited look of anticipation on her face, so I open her gift quickly. It’s an ornate antique picture frame. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s brass and has very detailed scrolling all around the oval shape.
“Pam, thank you so much. This is beautiful.”
“It would be nice for a picture of you and Luke. Maybe when you first started dating.”
I respond with a tight smile and place the picture frame on the table. Right now I don’t even want to look at any pictures of Luke, much less put them in a frame. I think Pam realizes her mistake, because she’s shifting uncomfortably in her seat. I refill her hot chocolate cup.
Pam, admiring the tree and decorations around the house, says, “Yvonne, you sure know how to do Christmas. You put me to shame.”
“This is nothing.”
“Girl, it’s like a winter wonderland over here. It even smells like Christmas.”
“Seems like all I’ve been doing is cooking these past few days. It keeps me busy.”
Pam knows about the paternity results. I left her a voice mail message. I think her visit today is more about showing her support than feeding cookies to Gretchen and Cicely. I truly appreciate it.
Pam places her hand over mine and asks, “Are you all right, Yvonne?”
“For the most part.”
“Have you talked to Taylor at all?”
I shake my head emphatically. “No. And I don’t plan to.”
“I think it would help you. The adultery has been over for a long time now.”
“Well, it’s still new to me.”
“Yvonne, we need to pray on this.”
Pam grabs both of my hands. I bow my head very low so that Pam can’t see the tears.
“Jesus, we ask in Your name for a victory. Victory over sin, victory over a broken marriage and victory over unforgiveness. Lord, we ask that You strengthen Yvonne today. Lord, just give her peace that surpasses all understanding. Jesus, make her to know that she just needs to stand still and let Your spirit guide her in this situation. Lord, we pray for Taylor. We pray that her broken heart is mended. We pray that she can be the mother that Joshua needs and that she raises him up to be a man of God. We pray for her strength and her esteem, Lord. We thank You, right now, in Your name. Amen.”
I don’t know what to say about Pam’s prayer. I didn’t expect her to feel any compassion for Taylor. It feels like a betrayal. But everything she said was true. Taylor needs prayer as much as I do, maybe more.