The Devil Made Me Do It (5 page)

The whole congregation laughed, even Elder Shaw, and praise the Lord, he hadn't been assigned to preach since. Esther smiled at the memory.

“Well, I do hope it's someone good.” She sighed and turned up the radio's volume to counter the melancholy feeling threatening to take her over.

Gospel music blaring, her mind churning, Esther almost missed the sound of a siren riffing through her solo praise time. She glanced in her rearview mirror and saw a Detroit police squad car dead-on her bumper, its lights signaling her to pull over.

Esther grimaced and wondered her infraction. “No no no,” she pleaded seeking heavenly intervention.

A tap on her window and a large hand with clean blunt nails signaled for her to roll it down. Esther touched the window's button, while reaching into her purse for her wallet.

She jumped when an authoritative voice thundered, “Take your hand out of your purse, ma'am. Place them both on your steering wheel.”

Esther swallowed and complied, gripping the wheel until her hands cramped from the effort. “Sir, I was getting my driver's license. I—”

The officer bent over to peer into her window and Esther's words sat on her tongue confused. His uniform faded away, and Esther's mind registered that Prince Charming had stepped out of her imagination and was riding around the city of Detroit giving out tickets instead of glass slippers.

His eyes met hers and enlarged at the instant attraction. She watched as those eyes turned three different shades, as he methodically shook it off. “You made a rolling stop, ma'am.”

Esther shook her head. “Sir, I did stop.” She tilted her head through the window and reached out her hand in greeting. “Hello, I'm Esther.”

The officer stepped back, looking into her eyes. She returned his stare, afraid to blink and miss something his eyes were conveying. The corner of his mouth slanted into a lopsided grin, and she breathed in relief. She hadn't had a date in more than a year. He tipped his hat. “I'm Officer Lawton Redding, Ms. Esther. In the future, make sure you actually stop at the stop sign. You drive safely.”

He headed back to his car, and though disappointed, Esther still drooled in her rearview mirror. “Thank you, Lord, for me not getting a ticket. And the wonderful view. You do all things well.” She hummed as she continued home, dreaming about what could have been. By the time she arrived, her daydream had them married with two children.

Amused at her daydream, Esther was unlocking her front door when her cell begin ringing. “Okay, okay.” She juggled her keys, purse, and phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, did I disturb you?”

“No, Mom. I'm a little tired, so I headed home early. Everything okay?” Esther threw her purse on the couch, kicked off her shoes, and then walked out of her skirt. She talked while she unbuttoned her blouse.

“Well, now, don't get upset. I know how you hate change, but Pastor is taking a one-year leave of absence. He and the first lady are leaving at the end of the month to be with Jeanette in Arizona.”

“Yes, I heard. Phyllis called me,” she snapped, a ridge forming across her forehead.

“She should have waited. I didn't tell you, because I knew you were at work, and I didn't want to disturb you. Why add drama to your workday?”

“You're right, Mama. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm sleep deprived.” Esther smoothed her fingers back and forth over her forehead.

“Is anything wrong, baby?”

“Mother Reed said some things that have me thinking.” Esther rubbed even harder at the hard ridges forming over her eyebrows.

“And . . .?” her mother said slowly.

“Change takes time,” Esther said in a defensive tone as she moved toward her bedroom. She was carrying her skirt and shrugged out of her blouse.

“It's time to move on. I've been praying for you. You don't seem happy.”

“Have I worried you?” Esther sat on the bed, in her matching bra and panty set. She picked the brush up from her nightstand and stroked her hair in a circular motion.

“Isn't that a child's job? You take chances; we worry. You hurt; we hurt for you. You pierce your finger; we bleed.”

“You get cold, we put on a sweater,” Esther joked knowing their love was a two-way street.

“Ha, ha, ha, that's real cute. Through it all, you and Phyllis are my greatest treasures.”

“We love you too.” Esther finished smoothing her hair into a perfect wrap and securing it with a scarf.

“Course you do, who doesn't?”

Esther fell back onto the bed laughing, then held her head from the jolting pain. This headache had snuck up on her. Hopefully, some sleep would cure it.

“Well, I have to go. Your daddy is looking lonely over there all by himself.”

Esther overheard her father in the background sounding crabby as her mother hung up, “Woman, I'm minding my own business, so don't come over here bothering me.”

She smiled, their teasing always made her feel warm inside. Tonight, she would have a peaceful sleep, with no past-life disturbances. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, willing her headache away. Her eyes half-mast, she watched the shadows of the waning day play against the skylight in her ceiling. Soon they drifted close. As night engulfed her, her mind fought against returning to a time in her life that was ruled by darkness.

1995

 

Roger clapped his hands in her face to emphasize his message. “I said you are not going out. You at that church too much as it is.”

Esther flinched. She was a grown woman standing in front of her husband being scolded like a four-year-old. This man was evil and small-minded. The caramel angular face she had once thought so attractive now held a demonic quality to it, the gray-silver eyes piercing with cruel intent.

She shivered and subconsciously crossed her heart with her right finger.

“Did your big tail just make the sign of the cross against me, girl? So now I'm the devil?” he raged.

Esther's chin quivered. “Don't call me names.”

Before Esther could move, Roger snatched her backward and slapped her in the face. She backed away holding her cheek in disbelief. She knew he had been drinking, but to hit her? Was he crazy? The hallway mirror provided proof of his madness; his handprint was red against the lightness of her complexion; the wetness in her eyes testament to her pain.

Roger's chest heaved from exertion as though he was trying to control himself. “See what you did?”

Grabbing his jacket and stomping to the door, Roger spun around, heading straight for Esther's purse. He rifled through it, found her wallet, and pulled out all of her cash; then he pushed the bills down into his pants pocket, patting it in satisfaction.

Mission accomplished, he walked out the door, reminding her, “Girl, don't you go anywhere.”

Esther felt cold hard rage, but she squashed it down and fled into the kitchen. All of a sudden she was hungry; frantically so. She grabbed containers out of her refrigerator. She placed a hefty amount of leftover fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and collard greens on an oversized plate, as tears trickled down her face. While she heated the food in the microwave, she went to the sink and ran cold water. Afterward, she soaked a paper towel and applied it to her cheek, then slumped down onto the nearest kitchen chair.

She held her cheek and prayed. “Lord, I don't want to be here. Help me be a doer of your Word and not return evil for evil. Give me the grace to sustain this marriage or the mercy to leave it. In your precious Son, Jesus's name. Amen.”

The microwave buzzed, and like a champ coming out of his corner, Esther came out of her daze. She looked down at all the food and remembered Roger's hurtful words. With purpose, she covered her plate and placed it in the refrigerator.

Marching through her living room, she picked up her purse and Bible and rushed out of the house. The cold towel pressed to her face, she was late for church.

 

 

“I can dance, dance, dance, dance, dance, dance, dance, all night,” the choir sang, and when the pastor called out, “How long?” They answered, “All night.” And the refrain continued.

The guest speaker had preached an anointed sermon into every heart present. The spirit was strong in the sanctuary, and the saints were dancing in the aisles. Some had caught the spirit so strong that they were running back and forth in front of the altar.

Evangelist Graham, Reverend Gregory's guest speaker, returned to the pulpit, “Do you believe, church? Well, where your heart is, so is thy treasure. Will you sow a seed today that will grow to be harvested later? If so, come now and bring your best!”

Esther jumped up with her wallet in her hand and ran to the altar. She was the first there, and the church clapped for her enthusiasm, but when she opened her wallet, it was bone dry. Esther looked around, stricken with humiliation. She was so busy making sure her face was not bruised, she had forgotten Roger had taken all her money.

When she turned to run out of the sanctuary, Evangelist Graham blocked her path.

He pulled her to him by her arm and hugged her tenderly.

He prophesied to her. “My daughter, be not ashamed for God is with you. You have sowed through your faith. Although the storm in your life rages and the weight of its rain is heavy, God loves you, and He has never left you nor forsaken you. He wants you to know that your inner light shines brightly. Hold on, sister, daybreak is coming.”

As the words hit her, Esther slumped in his arms and wept for proof of God's love. She walked down the aisle and was touched and patted by those who called to her. “Keep your head up, baby,” “God loves you,” “Blessings to you, sister.” Each word restored a little of her back to herself. God was truly awesome. Esther felt renewed.

Later, she entered the church's parking lot and inhaled the crisp night air. She was lighthearted, and her worries were miles away, probably sitting in some bar. She laughed freely with fellow church members as they strolled toward their cars. She was parked farther away, so she waved good-bye and turned down an isolated row.

Strained bursts of air filled the night as she huffed through the short hike, her stride purposeful. The earlier friendly banter was now fading background noise against an eerie silence that settled against the waning moon. Fog was moving in.

Due to a busted parking lot floodlight, she walked into an area of midnight ink. Her clicking heels resounded on the uneven cement, and she vowed to give an offering to the building fund on Sunday. The darkness and silence seemed unnatural. Hadn't people just laughed and talked along the rows? Something was off, and she couldn't put her finger on it. Now, her ears . . . or was it her imagination picked up a slight rustling? She tried to quiet her heavy breathing to hear better, but she ended up coughing. The rapid beating of her heart soon slowed when she saw her car's silhouette; it's chrome gleamed invitingly.

“Safety,” she whispered and leaned forward, a sprinter at the finish line. Her hand and key extended, she clicked the door lock and her headlights illuminated the area. Her erratic heart settled, anticipating the feel of flesh touching metal, pure relief.

 

 

The first blow slammed into the back of her head. Stunned, she fell. Polyester and cotton blend slid and rode her upper thighs as she fought for balance, but settled for her hands landing on solid ground. Breathless, she was shoved from behind, her thigh scrapping the cement, leaving bits of skin mingled among the pebbles. Yanked from behind, Esther shrieked as a vicious punch was delivered to the small of her back, shooting paralyzing agony throughout her body.

Through pain-induced haze, she could smell the alcohol reeking from her assailant. Battered, she whimpered, “No money. Please . . . stop.” Anticipating the next blow, her hands rose in defense mode. Her fingers spread, she sneaked a look at her assailant. Her eyes widened with discovery.

The reed-thin form hovered over her as he dragged her across the ground. “Didn't I tell you not to come here tonight? Get up and get in the car. I'm driving you home.”

Roger's towering body appeared ominous against the dark sky. He gritted his teeth as he yanked open the car door and shoved her inside.

Esther trembled in dread. Roger's face was contorted in rage, veins pulsed in his neck as he snorted air. After slapping her earlier in the evening, and now this, Esther was terrified. She snuck a glimpse at him as he peeled out of the parking lot and sped down the road. Speechless and sore, her head ached, making it impossible for her to think.

She winced at the tenderness when she clenched and unclenched her hands. “Sorry . . . after . . . you . . . left, I thought—”

“Who paid you to think? That's what's wrong now. You think your degree and your manager's job make you my boss. You're not. I got tatted tonight. Should've done it a long time ago instead of listening to you saying it's ungodly. Everybody has one, but your frumpy butt. And everybody ain't going to hell.”

Esther looked at Roger's right biceps, but it was covered with a bandage. He flipped on loud gangster rap, and they rode quiet for the next several minutes as Roger careened around corners and ran through red lights. “Oh, Jesus, he gon' kill me,” she moaned low.

When Roger zoomed into their driveway, she breathed a sigh of relief that they arrived in one piece. Her relief, however, was short-lived. What would happen to her behind their closed door? This man was beyond her scope of knowledge, an anomaly. He was dangerous.

She sat trembling with her fingers laced and strove to focus on Evangelist Graham's messag
e.
Esther spread her feet and pressed them into the car's carpet. Roger came around to her side of the car, swung the door open, and pulled. But Esther dug her feet in and held on to the seat.

“Doggone your big butt. Shoot, you weigh a ton. Get out of the car,” he panted, tugging.

Esther stared straight-ahead, looking neither right nor left, tears clouding her vision.

“I said get out,” he repeatedly punched her shoulder.

Esther cowered from the blows, longing to fight back, but holding on to God, and the car seat for dear life. Eyes squeezed tight, she prayed. Minutes passed as Roger hurled insults like Mohammed Ali and his butterfly jab. Esther's thigh throbbed, and her emotions heightened at every scathing remark.

Hope dwindling, she heard tires screeching and a dark blue sedan barreled up the street.

Roger looked past her and cursed. She turned in time to see her father leaping out of the moving car. Her mother slammed on the brakes and threw the car in park.

“Fool, are you crazy putting your hands on my daughter?” he thundered, storming over to Roger, a Louis slugger baseball bat swinging in his hand. Her mother tore out of the car clutching his arm. “Woman are you crazy? Let go of me, so I can whip this punk's butt!”

“Honey, please,” her mother implored. Whirling to Esther, she asked. “You okay?”

She nodded, then collapsed. “Daddy—” He enfolded her in his arms and tenderly wiped away her tears.

Screeching tires drew their attention and a second car rolled into her driveway, lurching to a stop. Phyllis and Esther's, brother-in-law, Charles, raced out of their car, donned in pajamas, covered by robes. He ran to confront Roger, and Phyllis made a beeline for Esther. She put her arms protectively around her little sister. Overwhelmed, Esther burst out wailing in relief on Phyllis's shoulder.

Phyllis's focus narrowed to Esther's tearstained face, “Hit him, Charles . . . hit him. Beat that—”

“Phyllis!” their mother interrupted, shaking her head against her making matters worse.

“Yes, ma'am, sorry,” mumbled Phyllis. In adolescent fashion, she mean mugged Roger behind her mother's back.

Esther watched Roger. His face dazed, he gulped in air. She could actually see him straining to think, but as usual, the alcohol he consumed trapped him in a fog.

Roger backed up, keeping his eyes on the men. He looked prepared to make a run for it.

Esther's father charged headfirst. “Where you going, boy? You man enough to hit my child? Well, now, you face me.”

Roger pulled himself to his full lanky height and squared his rounded shoulders. “Esther is always defying me. I asked her to stay home and tend to her duties as my wife. She at that church too much.”

Mr. Wiley scratched his head in disbelief. “Boy, you're trying my patience. Here you are talking about wifely duties when you have never been a husband. I've just come to the conclusion that you are beyond ignorant. Now, I'm not going to stand out here and continue to give a show to your neighbors. My daughter is going into that house, packing her bag, and coming home with me and her mama.” Wound up, he continued his angry rant. “Talking about she at church too much. I told her mother, Esther should have never married a CME member.”

Roger's eyes bucked in confusion. “Mr. Wiley, my people are AME, not CME.”

“No, fool, you a member of the Christmas, Mother's Day, and Easter denomination. Holiday churchgoing heathen. Get out of my face.” Hickman Wiley gestured to Esther. “Pumpkin, go and pack a bag. Once he put his hands on you, he stamped you ‘return to sender.'”

Startled, she surreptitiously looked at Roger.

He gestured with his hands stretched out. “Please stay here with me. This is where you belong. Things got a little out of hand, but this is our business, and we need to work it out.”

Esther stiffened as he hugged her, her body bruised and sore. Roger exhaled, triumphantly looking over her shoulder, he smirked. As they parted, Roger opened his mouth to speak, but Esther placed her finger over his lips. “Good-bye, I'm through.”

She limped up the stairs with Phyllis close on her heels. As soon as Phyllis closed the door, she grabbed her sister in a bear hug.

“Uh-uh, that hurts, and I can't breathe,” Esther muffled.

Phyllis loosened her hold and leaned away. “Yes, you can. You haven't breathed in a long time. Come on, take a great big gulp of air.”

Esther did as she was instructed, holding her stomach as she inhaled deeply.

“Feel that?”

“Yes,” Esther sighed.

“Know what it is?” Phyllis continued in cheerleader style.

“Freedom,” Esther crowed.

“Now, my sister, be ye not entangled again,” Phyllis sang in an evangelical voice. “Just give the word, and we're off to the hospital and filing a domestic violence charge. You know Daddy may force you to do it anyway.”