Sinful (27 page)

“Whoa, Doc!” Marvin objected. “You're going to kick us to the curb after our next session? I thought you said we had
two
things to hash out. I think we're making headway.”

“You are correct, Marvin, that's why I don't anticipate seeing you that often. I make it a point not to become the third wheel in my patients' marriages. You'll have to resolve things between yourselves. I'm only providing the venue and direction. You two love and respect each other, a child could see that. My client roster is littered with men who've molested their daughters, mothers who've sat by and let it happen; I've had women who've been raped and their husband's unwillingness to touch them afterward, or brides who can't stop talking about how beautiful their wedding was long enough to participate in the marriage. There are couples with dependency problems, and some who really have no business being married to each other. I want to say this, you are lucky to have one another, so don't forget that the next time you lose your temper or get your feelings hurt.” The doctor stood and circled the desk, then presented them with his cards. Marvin accepted one and passed the other to Chandelle before giving the doctor some soul brother dap.

“Thanks, Doc. I knew that something led me to you and I'm grateful.”

“It didn't happened to be the Holy Spirit and the way my name sounded?”

“Yeah, you got me, but I am not sorry for it.”

“Me neither,” said Chandelle, shaking the doctor's hand firmly. “You're really good at this, making people loosen up and see things clearly.”

“That's why I have another couple waiting,” he replied, to hurry them along.

“Okay, Doc, we're going, but you said two things. I'm with the code of conduct and showing the love, but what's the second one?”

“Don't listen to Dior,” Quincy answered casually.

Chandelle whipped her head around. “What do you mean?”

“It appears that most of your challenges have occurred because of something she said or did. Take it from me, friends and family can ruin a good thing faster than infidelity. Oh, it's okay to have them around. Just don't put any stock into what they tell you about your spouse unless you've had the chance to check it out for yourself. Now, you have to go. Call me if you're going to cancel.”

“Oh no, that's not happening,” Marvin contended, already looking forward to that session.

On their way out, holding hands and genuinely happy to be weathering their first big storm, Marvin pushed the door open to ask the doctor for additional business cards. He quickly lurched back when it came to him that he'd opened the wrong one. He was about to close it when he spotted he and Chandelle's old counselor, Dr. Betty, sitting on pins and needles next to a man who acted as if he'd rather be any place other than there with her. Marvin chuckled quietly. “I knew it, the blind leading the blind.” He pulled Chandelle forward to see what he'd discovered through the cracked door.

“Who? Ooh, that is her,” she uttered to him. “I'm getting my money back.”

“Why don't you let her make it on this one? By the looks of it, she's going to need to take out a loan for Brotha Malcolm Quincy to straighten out all of her issues.”

“And what makes you think it's her who's got their marriage twisted?” Chandelle asked facetiously. “You're right, she's going to need every penny.”

T
he elevator door opened on the ground floor. Marvin and Chandelle strolled out of it casually, hand in hand, a vast difference from after their other counseling adventure. There were no insulting tirades to contend with or snotty, smoke-blowing man-bashing episodes either. They had found a sensible facilitator who cared about his client's welfare and had utilized methodologies to bring about positive change. Chandelle enjoyed the thought of involving scriptural study to help assist them in piecing their relationship back together. That reminded her of Marvin's zeal and respect for the Word when he approached her on day one.

“Marvin, you did good, baby, choosing this Dr. Quincy,” she said tenderly, on the sidewalk outside of the church's office plaza. “I've heard preachers say how much easier it is to get men and women to do right when they stay in the Bible for support. Remember how we used to have a weekly study, on Wednesday nights, nothing too heavy, but thirty minutes or so reading chapters to each other?”

Marvin nodded, smiling as he thought back. “Yeah, I sure do. I grew up watching my folks shutting it down to put the outside world aside on the regular. Maybe that's why I rarely heard them going off. You can't read about God's blessings, and then turn around and act a fool. Well, I couldn't.”

“When we met, you were so witty, charming, concerned about doing right and being a Christian example that I didn't know how to take you. I didn't know what a
Christian example
was or know of any brothas willing to take me out for dinner and pass up on the dessert, if you know what I mean. Before I met you, I figured every man was alike, thinking a woman owed them something after they paid the check.”

“Wait a minute now, I wasn't perfect nor was I trying to be,” Marvin clarified immediately. “Don't think it was easy for me to take you home when my man-man was begging me to close the deal,” he joked, glancing down at his zipper. “We both wanted to do some things to you, get you involved in some wickedness.”

“Yes, but you didn't, that's what drew me to you up-front. You didn't press or make my feel obligated.”

“All this time, I thought you were feeling me because I was fine,” Marvin said, fishing for a compliment.

“Uh-uh, that's what made me want to get at some of that wickedness you were talking about. I'm saying how it was refreshing that you knew Jesus but weren't freaky and annoying about it.”

“Those are the ones you have to be worried about,” he agreed, “when you can't help wondering if they're trying to convince you or themselves. Wolves in sheep's clothing is what my mama used to call them.”

“Huh, wolves in wolves' clothing if you look closely enough,” she said knowingly. “God knew what he was doing all right. When I met you, I was searching but didn't know it. Remember the time you invited me to attend church? I was so scared. Didn't have church clothes, and I was afraid that I'd say or do something wrong. Nervous of being found unworthy, I guess.”

Marvin leaned in closer to show his compassion. “Unworthy? Unworthy of what?”

“The invitation for a church date and a man like you,” she answered, before digging up skeletons from her past. “I wasn't accustomed to men opening doors for me, saying thank you and please, showing that they cared about me without expecting the panties to drop. I became selfish, scandalous, and out for mine. Funny, I thought that graduating from college would somehow change me, make me more of a lady. I had a diploma in my hands and still too much street in my heart. Lies are what I lived by. Game is what I understood. That's why I kept avoiding you in the beginning. I wouldn't let myself trust your words even though you gave me no reason not to.” Marvin wrapped his arms around her. Chandelle laughed to keep from crying. “Where do you think Dior got all of her bad habits? She grew up watching me doing dirt and perfecting mine. Yeah, I'm still paying for that today,” said Chandrelle.

Marvin gritted his teeth and looked toward the sky, thinking that Chandelle had no idea how right she was about that. “We all make mistakes that haunt us, baby. That's life,” he uttered, speaking for himself as well.

“Teaching my little cousin the ways of the world, that's my cross to bear. I programmed the girl and she's running wild. I'm the one responsible, and I'm the one who's duty-bound to take her in for some serious soul scrubbing. You don't cut for her, I understand why, but she's my blood, my family, and I can't have her out there like she doesn't have any.” During their long embrace, Chandelle tilted her head back to look in her husband's eyes. “Marvin, you showed me a whole other life I didn't know existed outside of what I saw in the hood and what white folks put on television. Being married to you was like living a dream with my name on it. Dior was just jealous of our relationship,” she assumed, correctly although misguidedly. “I heard what the doctor suggested. He's right. I'll check her on sticking her nose into ours, but I've got to get Dior some help, if it kills me.”

What if it kills us?
he wanted to say but didn't. “Hey, cheer up,” he cooed in its place. “I have my arms wrapped around you and I'm not ready to let you go. Can you swing an extended lunch? There are some things I want you to see.”

“You kidding? All I have to do is call and tell Grace that I'm with you and she'll give me a pass.” Chandelle did phone Grace, who hadn't too long returned to work. When she heard a lift in her friend's voice, Grace told Chandelle to take all the time she needed, just as predicted. “I told you she was rooting for us,” Chandelle chuckled gleefully.

“I'm down for us too,” Marvin said, searching the nearly empty parking lot for Chandelle's Volvo, forgetting that he'd smashed the grill the week before. “Where's your car?”

“You are funneee,” she snickered. “I almost laughed.”

“Oh snap, it's in the shop?”

“Uh-huh,
in the shop,
” Chandelle answered, bobbing her head up and down, as if she wasn't sure how to take him forgetting how he'd plowed into it. “It'll be
in the shop
for three more days and eighteen hundred dollars' worth of repairs.”

“Ahh, yes, it's getting clearer now,” he said, wincing in jest. “Then that's you in the white Neon over there?”

“If you keep cracking on my replacement whip, I might not write you a check for the difference. Let me get out my checkbook right now and do that.” Chandelle unzipped her purse, hoping that he'd stop her from returning $3,200 she'd planned on reallocating for overdue bills.

“Sweetheart, don't. I gave that money to you because I wanted you to have it. Why don't you put it on something else you need?” That's exactly the response Chandelle was working on. She quickly zipped her bag, then smacked Marvin on the lips.

“He still loves her,” she moaned sensually.

“He cares for her too,” Marvin added.

“Told you you was gonna want me back,” Chandelle teased.

“You think I ever stopped?” he questioned. “Nah, my mama didn't raise no fool. Let's take my ride. I don't see me fitting in yours.”

“Ha-ha, another crack? That was almost less funneee than your last one. Congratulations.”

Marvin had scheduled midday errands to run. Having Chandelle along seemed more than ideal, considering they affected her as much as him. Every five minutes she asked, “Are we there yet?” like an impatient child on a road trip. Marvin laughed each time she did it, realizing how much he had missed her sense of humor and their perfect pairing. Chandelle dropped hints about him leaving the apartment to join her in the house. Marvin caught each one but refused to tackle that conversation, which encompassed a great deal more than him changing his address.

“Oh look, we're here,” Marvin said, as he drove his eight-year-old vehicle into the Toyota dealership.

Chandelle looked around curiously. Marvin had taken excellent care of his SUV and enjoyed four years without having to pay a monthly note. She couldn't see him parting with it, at least not the old Marvin. “Do you have a client here?” she asked from the passenger seat.

“I'm here to get your opinion,” he said, straight-faced and plainly. “I test-drove a Sequoia the other day. It's a step up from my Four Runner.”

“A step up?” she questioned. “It's not like you're interested in buying one. Are you?”

Marvin opened the glass door and ushered Chandelle inside the motor-plex. The white lady, wearing a headset behind a partially obstructed desk, smiled and waved at him. “Hey, Marvin, you here for another spin?” she asked.

“I do like that new car smell,” was his response. “Is Lawrence in today?”

“Yep, I'll tell him you're back.”

Chandelle tugged on Marvin's sleeve. “On first-name basis with the staff? Just how often do you come by here?”

“Just a couple of times, but I've test-driven several of these,” he told her, motioning toward the SUVs in the showroom. “I'm kinda like a mascot now. Hey, check out this blue one,” he said, opening the passenger side door to a mammoth vehicle. Chandelle stepped on the running board and climbed in.

“Wow, Marvin, this is so big,” she marveled. “And look at how long it is.”

“Thank you,” he replied, lewdly implying her inference was regarding his features.

“You are so nasty,” she giggled. “I was about to say how much bigger this one is than yours.”

“Oh,” he said, feigning disappointment.

“Marvin,” announced the slick-dressed salesman, approaching from behind him. “You keep coming by and I'm going to have to tell my wife about us,” he jested. Chandelle bit her lip, trying not to laugh when it appeared her husband had worn out his visitor's badge at the dealership.

“Hey, Lawrence, this is
my wife
, Chandelle,” Marvin said, greeting him with a firm handshake like an old friend.

“So, you do like girls, after all?” the chubby blond man cracked wise, knowing Marvin could handle it. “I just lost twenty bucks.”

Chandelle's mouth flew open when a loud burst came flying out. “Hello,” Chandelle said, extending her hand to him. “Now, that was funny! Pleased to meet you, Lawrence.”

“She's beautiful and recognizes talent when she hears it? Marvin, I'm giving you my home number so Chandelle can talk to my wife, maybe smarten her up a bit.”

“Look before you leap, Lawrence. Chandelle might take you up on it,” Marvin answered. “You do not want my woman in your wife's ear. Trust me.”

“Marvin?” Chandelle objected lightly.

“So, are you test-driving again today?” Lawrence asked, seemingly annoyed with people who wasted a lot of time without making a purchase. “You know, I could give you a brochure and that would cut out a lot of this back and forth.”

“Yeah whatever,” Marvin said, dismissing him quickly. “Chandelle, which of these do you like best? There's the beige one over there we could try out. It's got cloth seats, six-disk CD changer, and a navigational system. That's a black one, with leather seats and a flip-down TV monitor. Oh, that silver one comes with leather, the CD changer, the navigational system, and seat warmers.”

Chandelle's eyes widened with excitement. “Seat warmers?”

“Uh-huh,” Marvin answered. “They'll make your booty hot.”

“Let's check that one out,” Chandelle replied, like a little kid at an amusement park.

“Lawrence, you heard the lady. Open the door and get me the keys,” Marvin demanded with a crooked smile. The salesman hunched his shoulder and shook his head.

“Okay, Marvin, I've got your photo ID on record. You know the rules better than I do. No speeding, no car chases, no stunts, no hitchhikers,
and no stunts,
” he reiterated for the sake of making Chandelle laugh. After his mission was accomplished, Lawrence smacked his thigh. “I keep telling my wife that I'm funny. Hold on, I'll get 'er opened up, but this time you bring it back with some gas in it.”

“Man, just get me the keys,” Marvin demanded, grinning. “I'm leaving you mine for security. It's got two hundred and sixty-seven thousand miles racked up, that's barely broken in good and I'm trusting you with it.”

Soon enough, the large glass windows slid back. The salesman strutted out and handed Marvin the keys. “We have to stop meeting like this or people will start to talking about me too,” he said, winking at Chandelle. When she snickered again, he gloated. “I still got it. Chandelle, enjoy the ride. Marvin, be safe out there and put some gas in it!” he hollered as the vehicle inched down the sloped exit.

“Ooh!” Chandelle squealed with delight. “I'm sitting so high up. This is really nice, baby.”

“It is nice, huh?” he said, pressing the button to activate Chandelle's seat warmer. “Hold on, I forgot to get something.” He stopped directly behind his vehicle, got out, and returned with a briefcase. “Is it hot yet?” he questioned, leering at her seductively.