The Sunday Only Christian (6 page)

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Authors: E. N. Joy

BOOK: The Sunday Only Christian
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Chapter Ten
“Lynox. Hi. How are you?” Deborah answered the phone. She'd been in the middle of editing a manuscript.
“I am more wonderful than I have been in about . . . hmmm . . . two years,” he said through the phone receiver.
“Is that so?”
“My dear, that is very much so.”
Deborah could hear a smile in his voice. It was contagious. So much so that it not only put a smile in her tone, but one on her face as well. “Thank you for taking time out of your schedule to sit and talk with me yesterday. I really needed to hear a lot of the things you said. And more importantly, there were a lot of things that I needed to say.”
“Well, I hope you were able to say them all, because from this day forward, I want to forget all about anything in the past. From this point on, I don't want to talk about anything or anyone from the past; or anything or anyone that will even slightly remind us of the past. That includes both Helen and Elton. I don't want even a remnant of those two in our future. Agreed?” Lynox paused for a response from Deborah.
This conversation was not going as she had planned. Maybe that's because Deborah's intention was to call Lynox instead of him calling her. When she called him, she would have been ready to tell him that she had a child and that if that was the deal breaker for him, then there wasn't even a need for them to move forward. They could both walk away now before things went any further than coffee and a kiss. But that's not what had happened. Lynox had called her first and took lead of the conversation. Now Deborah felt all she could do was follow.
“Agreed. But there is—” Deborah started before Lynox cut her off.
“No buts. When you add the word ‘but,' it crosses out something or everything that you've just said. I don't want anything crossed out. I mean it. Fresh soil this time. Nothing or no one is just going to walk into our lives and try to throw a monkey wrench into our relationship. Sooooo, with that being said, what are you doing for dinner tomorrow night?”
Deborah knew this was the moment. This was the moment when, in spite of Lynox being in the lead of the conversation and in spite of the direction in which it was going, she should have spoken up. She should have used her God-given authority and taken control of the conversation. She should have boldly told him, “Yeah, I have a son, so what? He's a part of me. So if you want me, then you have to want him too. We're a package deal, baby. Take us both or leave us both.” But instead what Deborah said was, “What time are you picking me up for dinner tomorrow night?”
 
“So now that we've covered all of the old business on the agenda,” Deborah said as she stood behind the podium conducting the New Day Temple of Faith singles ministry meeting, “is there any new business anyone would like to discuss?”
The twenty-seven female members and eight male members looked to each other, mumbled in the negative, and shook their heads.
“Okay, very well then,” Deborah said as she closed her notebook, preparing to close out the meeting in prayer. She looked out among the members who began putting their things away in preparation to leave. She felt proud that the ministry had grown so and that she had been able to maintain a steady membership since returning from Chile and taking back over as leader.
What Deborah was even more proud of was that the ministry had consistently had between eight and ten male members. From the inception of the ministry, it had been difficult to get men to join. They had assumed that a singles ministry wasn't anything but a bunch of women who sat around bad-mouthing all the men of their past while trying to figure out how to get one in their future. Ironically, that wasn't too far from the truth. But things had changed drastically since the ministry's earlier days. Maybe that's because God had done some drastic things in some of the women's lives. Whatever the case, God had now blessed the ministry with men. And the men seemed to be just what the doctor ordered so that the ministry could function decently and in order.
With the male of the species now among them, the women thought twice before going on a man-bashing tangent. They were also more mindful of the way they discussed past relationships. It was one thing to put their business out there in a room full of women, but having men around seasoned the women's tongues a little bit more.
The men were also able to provide some valuable input. They were able to allow the women to see how they sometimes saw things. Having the male perspective enabled the women to see a lot of things differently. It often allowed them to see themselves for who they really were, prompting them to begin to make some serious changes in their lives.
Just the thought of the men and all the past valuable information they'd provided to the ministry made a light go off in Deborah's head. “Uh, excuse me.” Deborah cleared her throat. “Before we go, I'd like to throw something out there for both the single men and women out there who have children.” She thought for a minute. “I guess this could go for the single men and women out there who don't have kids as well.”
Deborah now had everyone's attention again, so she continued. “For those with kids, have you ever met someone who was really into you but not that into your kids?” Right off the bat Deborah heard some groans and murmuring. But she continued with the second part of her questions. “And for those of you without children, have you ever met someone who seemed to have all the qualities you were seeking but had something you weren't—a kid?” There were more groans, murmuring, and now a few sour faces.
“I thought I had met the perfect man,” a sister in the ministry called out. “He had all the right stuff.” She then poked her lips out and rolled her eyes. “But then I found out that he had the wrong stuff, which was two kids.” She held up two fingers and once again rolled her eyes with disgust. “Not just two kids, but two baby mommas to go along with them.”
“But wait a minute, don't you have three kids?” Deborah asked her.
“Yes, but I still have the right not to date someone else with kids,” she replied.
This time a brother spoke up. “Now that doesn't seem fair. Why should he have to deal with you and your three kids and you not deal with him and his two?”
“He doesn't have to,” the woman replied. “That's the thing. We all have a choice. Now if he chooses to date a woman with kids, it's his right to do that or not to do that. Why shouldn't I have that same right? Are you trying to say that if a person has kids, by default they have to be okay with getting involved with a person who has kids? That's crazy,” she declared. “I know me. I know that I'm not the baby-momma-dealing kind of chick. I don't do babies' mommas. I don't do raising someone else's kids. If I know these things about me, then why should I subject him and his children to it? I think by me being truthful with myself and knowing I'm not built for that type of relationship, I'm being more fair to him and his children than I possibly could be.”
“Preach, sister,” another female said with a triple snap of her fingers.
The brother bowed out gracefully with, “I never looked at it that way, sister. You have a very valid point. Kudos to you for knowing your limits and sticking with them.”
“Amen,” the woman said. “Because you don't want to go forcing someone to have to deal with your kids if they've already made it clear that they ain't cut out for that type of party. Because at the end of the day, you'll know in your heart that you are with someone who, deep down inside, really ain't feeling your kids. And for all you know they could snap off on 'em. That could turn out to be ugly for everybody. So not that I'd ever snap off on somebody's kids or a baby's momma, but why even put myself in that situation to be tried?”
“I feel you, sister,” another man spoke up. “But . . .”
By now, Deborah was still taking in all that the woman who'd just spoken had to say. She'd made so many valid points; points that only made it clear to Deborah what she had to do. She had to break things off with Lynox.
Chapter Eleven
Deborah stood and looked at herself in the mirror. She took a moment to thank God for her clear, smooth skin. She'd seen so many commercials for various acne products, she could only imagine how many people were out there struggling with the insecurities of being acne prone. It didn't seem like much to be thankful for, but in Deborah's eyes, it was.
She fingered the silk handmade blouse she'd gotten from Chile. Elton had paid almost $500 for it. That's what he did whenever he felt bad for not being able to see or talk to her for several days—sometimes weeks. When he finally did come around, he was bearing gifts. The thing was, he always expected some type of intimacy in return. Deborah went from feeling like the trifling mistress, to the kept woman, to the high-priced whore.
Deborah molested the soft material, which was designed with bright-colored shapes of different sizes. “Harrumph,” she said out loud. “All he put me through; I was worth it.” And that comment had shut her conscience up before it could tell her that she needed to take that shirt off and put on something that didn't remind her of her sins. But the blouse was just too cute for all that. Maybe how she'd come about the shirt had been a sin, but wearing it certainly wasn't one. In Deborah's opinion, it would have been a sin not to wear it.
“I gotta go potty.”
Deborah turned and looked to see her little guy standing in the doorway. He had been quietly in his room playing with his toys while Deborah got ready.
“Mommy's big boy has to go potty?” she asked.
“Umm hmmm.” He nodded.
Deborah walked over to her son and scooped him up in her arms. She placed him on her hip while she cupped her arm around his bottom to keep him in place. That's when she realized he'd already gone potty—in his underwear. “Oh, no!” Deborah shouted once she felt the moisture soaking through the sleeve of her blouse. Following that was the big “D” word with the word “it” after it. Deborah's angry outburst startled her son and he began to cry. “Oh, Mommy is sorry. I didn't mean to scare you.” She sat him back down. “Mommy didn't mean to yell.” As she began to remove her son's clothing she whispered, “God forgive me for cursing at my baby.”
Once Deborah got her son's clothing off of him, she scooped him back up. He was still crying and sniffling. “Mommy's sorry, baby boy.” Deborah's phone rang, so holding her child in one arm, she swooped the phone up with the other. She knew it was her mother telling her she was coming around the corner and to have her grandson ready.
“Yes, Mother,” Deborah answered the phone without even looking at the caller ID.
“I think I prefer to be called daddy,” Lynox joked with a deep voice.
“Oh, Lynox?” Deborah was completely caught off guard as she balanced her twitching and whining son in one hand while trying to keep the phone to her ear with the other.
Noticing the flustered tone of Deborah's voice, Lynox asked, “Did I catch you at a bad time? You sound a little antsy.”
“Oh, no, I'm just—” Deborah was cut off by the wail her son released.
“Is that a kid?” Lynox asked, his tone laced with curiosity.
Deborah looked at her son, closed her eyes, and bit her lip. She had to think fast. Once again, this was not how things were supposed to go down. Yes, she was going to tell Lynox about her son and then break things off with him, but she was going to do it face to face during dinner. But once again, Lynox had taken the lead and just messed up everything.
“It's a kid . . . on TV,” Deborah partially lied. She looked at her son and put her index finger over her mouth while her eyes pleaded with him to stop crying. Lucky for Deborah it worked.
“Oh, well, I guess the televisions these day do more than just look like real life; they have a heck of a sound system, too. Anyway, I was just calling to tell you that I left my house a little early because I thought there might be traffic. But wouldn't you know I'm making great time. So I just wanted to let you know that I might show up a little early, if that's okay?”
Deborah looked over at her clock. She then looked down at her son and repositioned him over her shoulder. “Uh, well, uh . . .”
Think. Think. Think.
Her mother was due to arrive to pick her son up, but what if Lynox got there before her?
I knew I should have just dropped him off over at my mom's and met Lynox out,
Deborah scolded herself. She knew better than to have a man come pick her up at her house anyway. That was one of the first things she'd been taught in the singles ministry. It sounded good in the church classroom when she was hearing it. Now that she was at home out in the world, like she often found herself doing, she was playing by her own rules.
“Umm, well uh . . .” Why did those seem to be the only words of choice Deborah could manage to come up with? “I guess it would . . .” Her words trailed off as she placed her son at her feet. She was going to tell him that she guessed it would be all right, but it wouldn't have been.
“Ohhhh, I get it, still getting beautiful for me, huh? Although I don't think it is possible for you to get any more beautiful than you already are,” he complimented her. “So, I'll just kill some time stopping off at a bookstore or something. You know—do an author drive-by, go see how many of my books are on the shelf—blah, blah, blah.”
Deborah exhaled a deep sigh of relief and said, with nervous laughter, “Yes, I know how it is. Plus, I do wanna look my best.”
“No problem. I'll see you at our scheduled time. And you better be lookin' good.”
“I will. I will,” Deborah replied and then ended the call. She wanted to pass out on the bed, but she couldn't. She didn't have time. She had to finish changing her son's clothes, and unless she wanted to smell like “tinkle,” she had to change her clothes too. “Okay, fella, let's go get you together,” she said to her son.
Deborah took a step and then paused. She looked down at her $1,000 pair of shoes. Another “I'm sorry” gift, compliments of Elton. She was disgusted. She wasn't disgusted at the shoes or the sexual act she performed with Elton after he had given her the shoes. At this moment, she was disgusted with what was under the shoes. “Please tell me you didn't,” she said to her son, who offered her an “I'm sorry” smile.
Like father like son.
But her child didn't have to say anything. When Deborah lifted her shoe, beneath it was a pile of brown, stinky, mushy stuff.
“The baby boo-boo,” her son said in the third person.
Before Deborah could even catch herself, the big “S” word shot from her mouth, causing her son to break out in tears again.
Unbeknownst to Deborah, the “S” word was a perfect analogy of what she was about to find herself in . . . or already had found herself in—literally.

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