Love Redeemed, Book 4 (26 page)

“C, you do know you and I come from same type of neighborhood, right?”

“Pshhhh!” she waves her big hand at me. “Get the fuck outta here, man! Just ‘cuz you come from a city don’t mean we come from the same streets, Ray.” She turns back over to the wall with the gown she wants me to see.

“Chanell, where I come from, most of the kids thought if you lived in a single
unit house, with no other apartments attached to it, you were rich. Where I come from, if one person in your household had a car, no matter a hooptie or not, it meant you were in a higher class than most.”

“And you was probably in that high class,” she guess
es with her back to me.

“No. I was not. I lived in the projects, C, where rats and roaches believed they had just as much of a right to be in your apartment as you. Where I would go out on my porch at night and look for the
farthest light, be it a star or street lamp, and say, ‘
That’s where I’m going to live when I get my first apartment.
’ Where block huggers and ‘bout it chicks would crack your chin if you tried to play them like a sucker. You know, for like calling them
bourgeois
?”    

Chanell almost jump
s out of her shoes, turning around to me. “Damn, Rayna! Chill the fuck out. I know you ain’t no sucka! You proved that when them fools tried to rob Divine down in Mexico. Don’t take shit so personal. You know I’m just fuckin’ witchu. You my bitch: ride or die.” She does some type of sacrilegious crossing of her heart and kissing up to the sky. “Yo, remember when we tore the dance floor to that B.I.G. track?”

It t
ake a minute to recall that night at Azmir’s club in Compton. I can never forget the night I possibly met Erin’s father. I never told Michelle about seeing him. I didn’t want to remind her of that horrid New Year’s Day.

“C, what ever happened to that Mikey dude. He was wild that night,” I
recollect casually, making sure not to mention where I’d recalled him from.

“I’on’t know. Come to think of it, I ain’t seen Mikey since that night. We used to smok
e together, but he stop coming ‘round the way.” Chanell shrugs. “He had his ass handed to him after fuckin’ wit’ Divine’s pussy, yo!” she jeers. “Nah, I’m fuckin’ witchu. You know you my peoples, right, Ray?”

I roll my eyes back down to the catalogue, not really focusing on anythin
g in particular.

“Rayna, you know ‘dat, right?” she ask
s. “C’mon, Ray, you know I was just fuckin’ witchu,” she goes on.

I barely hear much of anything else when I
shout, “Here we go!”

“No. For real! You know I fucks witchu. I been ridin’ witchu since day one!” She
’s losing patience in her tone.

“No, C! Here’s my gown! It’s perfect!” I exclaim as I pound the page with my index finger.

It
’s a mermaid cut with a triangle neckline and corded lace. There’s a scallop trim at the neckline, back, and hem of the gown. The straps are thin and the highlight of the gown is the backless design. Similar to the gowns Azmir has been selecting for me, this one is cut low, all the way down to top of my derriere. It’s gorgeous. It’s breathtaking. I’m in love! 

“Huhn?” she ask
s before coming over to me. “Let me see.”

I hand her
the catalog as I call to Raheem, the bridal specialist. When I return to retrieve the book from Chanell so that I can inquire about the gown to Raheem, I notice Chanell’s moue.

“What’s that face for?” I ask. “You can’t deny it’s beautiful!”

“Yeah, it’s dope as shit, but can you fit in something like that? It’s showing a lot of skin back there,” she speaks suspiciously.

I roll my eyes
as I place the book on the trunk in the center of the room and point the gown out to Raheem.

“Ahhh! The
Poipu
! This is fabulous, honey!” he shrieks. I give a goofy smile and then turn to answer Chanell.

“Yeah. We bourgeois girls from the projects are smart enough to diet and exercise to keep our figures right so that in the event a man asks to marry us, we can
wear a revealing number like this,” I shoot back at her.

I love Chanell, but I’
m not about to let her believe she can categorize me like that and I’m going to roll over and take it. I’m not that removed from my roots. She’s a big girl, but I won’t hesitate getting as many jabs in as I can before she takes me down. 

Raheem jot
s down the item number and then measures me. As he does, I daydream about wearing this beautiful fabric down the aisle to Azmir. When I leave the boutique, I’m in such an elated mood that I not only treat my girl, Chanell, to dinner that night, but I also accept her invitation to her birthday party after I declined a few days ago because of the venue. It’s going to be at Petey’s
Drop It
club, featuring a male review.

“Oh, shit!” she
screams when I tell her.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What type of wife will you be, Rayna?” First Lady Twanece asks.

We
’re sitting in her office at the church. It’s vividly and femininely decorated in various shades of purple. I can’t decide if it’s her favorite color or holds a deeper religious meaning of royalty. The hues of purple are coordinated well to bring calm to the room. She sits behind an oak desk, but her chair is made of some white, faux feather upholstery revealing her inner diva. The lavender walls are decorated with her educational degrees and certificates. Above her head is a poster-size picture of her and Pastor Edmondson dressed in formal attire. They look good and…
together
.

“Ummmm…I don’t think I follow your question,” I repl
y.

She angle
s her chin in a fortifying move and says, “It’s simple. What type of wifely persona will you take on when you become Mrs. Azmir Jacobs?”

“I…I don’t know.” I
’m already intimidated by this conversation.

The way that we have our premarital counseling sessions set up is some are done with Azmir and I together with Pastor Edmonson, some include the two of us with the pastor and First Lady
Twanece and some are split with one-on-ones with the ladies and those with the men. Tonight, it’s just us ladies and it’s always hard for me to be confident in the same room as a woman who’s mastered the balance of marital partnership. She’s a wife, mother, professional, and a freaking first lady of a mega church. I often find myself trying not to shrink in her presence.

First Lady
Twanece is like a jaguar. She seems beautiful, harmless, and alluring, but when the time calls for it, she will pounce and fearlessly attack. She sings in church from time to time, she’s a natural soprano with her high notes, and even speaks in the same tone. But when she wants to emphasize a point or when her spirit is high and admonishing, she’ll transition into an alto with natural ease.

This evening, she’
s an alto.

“Okay
…” She clasps her hands together. “…let me ask, will you be a submissive wife; always allowing him to chart the course and only speaking up when asked to? Will you fight for equal time at the wheel, believing that navigation in a marital partnership takes two people, because one can’t possibility take on the role alone? Will you be especial in watching over him, understanding that he is a leader who governs lots of people and needs someone watching out for him as well?” She’s rattling off these questions as she looks me square in the eyes and I know she means business.

“Will you release him to the world without much interference, avoiding being that
‘overwhelming’ wife? Will you stand by his side where you have equal vision? Will you stand slightly behind where you can see can see around him as well as what’s ahead? Will you move ahead of him, on your own course, feeling the need to have a separate identity to his public one? What type of wife will you be, Rayna?”

“You just laid out so many options. I…I don’t know how to choose,” I fumble with my words again. “What would be the safe answer?”

First Lady Twanece cracks a smile. I’m not sure what it means. She goes to adjust herself in her seat, crossing her legs and arms before she answers, “The ideal answer is, you will be whatever he needs you to be in the moment he needs it.”

“That’s a tall order.”

“And such is marriage,” she quickly returns. “See, many women…
and men
don’t understand the totality of commitment and how in marriage, it should mimic God’s commitment to you. Your devotion to Azmir should not be conditional or given in portions that you feel he ‘
deserves.’
” She uses air quotations. “It also shouldn’t be based upon his commitment to you. This isn’t a game of quid pro quo. Your attitude walking into this institution should be decided, firm, and maintained until either he dies, you die, or his behavior becomes so reckless that it negatively alters the core of who you are. You know…abuse of any form, a severely chronic addiction, or habitual adultery.”

Is she crazy?

“Those are the only acceptable reasons for divorce?”

“Those are examples of legitimate reasons to consider terminating your commitment, but it’s on a case-by-case basis. What you can tolerate from a thieving addict may fall short of the patience I’d provide one. Two affairs may ruin your confidence of his commitment to your marriage. I may be able to withstand five. It’s subjective, Rayna. It is only when the essence of you changes as a result of his lack of commitment should you consider leaving.”

She sits up in her chair
. “The passage with Azmir won’t be pretty every day. You won’t be in love every day. You
will
hit rough roads ahead. And your challenges may be unique to some of your contemporaries because of Azmir’s occupation and social-economic status. He’s in the public eye. The role of his partner cannot be taking on by someone with jumpy shoulders. In order to increase security in a relationship, you must produce predictability. You can’t up and leave. You have to know within your heart, be settled in your mind, and be anchored from your soul that you can devote your life to him.”

Doubt r
ises from my belly. “Do you think I can do that?”

“I think you can do all things through Christ who strengthens you.” 

“Pretty generic,” I snort. That verse is not convincing when discussing permanency.

“It is what I believe. It’s what I
’ve lived for the past twenty-eight years of marriage. I’ve gone through the groupie women. The mercurial shifts from him switching roles of pastor, to husband, to father, to lover, to friend, or whatever other hat the moment calls for. I’ve been through his identity crisis, age crisis, and every mild depression he’s suffered from not being able to save the world. Our sex life has gone between incredible, fair, and lackluster…all depending on where he is—sometimes where I am.

“
I cannot control John, but I can control my intent as his wife and my reactions to his behaviors. There were many days when I questioned my endurance, but far less that I wavered in my commitment. I work to be who John wants me to be, when he needs me to be it. That devotion is based on what I decided to be for my husband long ago, and not what I believe he
deserves
in that moment. Sure, there were times when I felt overwhelmed and underappreciated, however, there has never been a time when I’ve not been sure of my commitment. I am the wife I decided to be. So, tell me Rayna, what type of wife will
you
be?”

First Lady
Twanece has given me loads to think about in this session. I don’t walk out of there self-assured or with a game plan for my nuptials with Azmir. However, the session gets the cogs of my mind working overtime.

Later
, as I fall into bed, heaviness in my chest has taken residence. I realize how lonely I am. There’s no reason in planning my role as Mrs. Jacobs when there is no Mr. Jacobs here in his own bed to motivate my aspirations. I miss Azmir so much. So much that I let go of a few unwilled tears as I bury my face into his pillow.

We’re almost there, Rayna. He’s doing this for you.
I chide myself before falling into slumber. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The night of Chanell’s party, I arrive feeling pretty good for a woman experiencing the equivalent to blueballs for a man. I show up in distressed denim cut-offs, stopping just under my kneecaps, a black, sheer mock tank, a black and white, zebra print blazer, and red
So Kate
Louboutin
pumps with a red
Prada
Nappa envelope clutch. I selected a simple look to hang out with my ‘round-the-way-chicks.

Almost as soon as
I walk through the door, I locate Chanell, Kim, and their girls. I inform John of where I’ll be so that he can make himself wallpaper. Within just feet of joining them, Kim notices me approaching and yelps my welcome. Chanell looks up, and once she recognizes me she shrieks just the same, and I notice her call for the server who had just left their party.