What a Sista Should Do (10 page)
“Spencer Oldman, meet Taylor Johnson. She’s Pam Lyons’ assistant, but I doubt she stays in that position for too long. She gave me some brilliant ideas for my last board presentation.”
I’m smiling, and I extend my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Taylor, Spencer is the president of Midwest operations. He and I worked together for years.”
Spencer is still shaking my hand. There is no ring on his finger. “I’m pleased to meet you, Ms. Johnson. I love to meet innovators.”
All I can do is smile, because my brain is completely frozen. Why can’t I think of something innovative to say?
“Spencer, there are some other people I want you to meet before you get back to Toledo. We probably better let Taylor get back to her work.”
“Sure, Glenda, you’re in charge today. It was a pleasure, Ms. Johnson.”
“Likewise.”
It could be my imagination, but I swear that Spencer gazed into my eyes for just a second longer than necessary. When we shook hands, I also noticed that his cuff links were little crosses. That doesn’t have to mean anything, but it could mean that he’s a Christian.
Here I go, getting all excited again. When are my hormones going to stop taking over all rational thought? You would think I was fourteen or something. Anyway, I don’t trust my judgment anymore. I did fall in love with that loser Luke Hastings.
It would be nice to have a normal relationship, though. One where I don’t have to sneak and meet under the cover of darkness. It’s been more than three years, and I’m past being over Luke. Maybe this little encounter with Spencer is just a wake-up call for me. It could be time to make myself available again. Especially since my son needs a daddy and his biological one sure isn’t planning on doing the job.
I’ve never been in a real romance per se. That’s not to say that I didn’t have men. I just never made them go through the hoops of wining and dining me. What was the point anyway? It was always just a ploy to get me on my back. I knew by the end of the first date if I was going to sleep with a man.
My mother used to always complain about my lifestyle. She even blamed herself for not having my father around more. She says I have low self-esteem. Sometimes I think that maybe she has a point.
I only really decided to serve God four years ago. I’d gone to church since I was a little girl, and I’d gotten baptized as a teen. I did this for my mother, who for a time seemed to have nothing else right in her life but the Lord. I went to church faithfully. I was at Sunday school, Bible study and prayer meetings, but as for repentance, I was far, far from it. I just thought repenting was saying “I’m sorry” and really, really meaning it. Every time I prayed, I was telling the Lord “I’m sorry.”
It didn’t take long for me to get tired of my life. The men didn’t fulfill me, and neither did the loveless sex. The Sunday morning I walked into New Faith, I was desperate for answers and desperate for love. As soon as I stepped through the doors, I was overwhelmed by a presence in the house that was unmistakable. I used to think that my tears of sorrow were evidence of the Holy Spirit, but that day I had a new experience in Christ. I was at the altar, surrounded by a host of altar workers. They prayed with me, cried with me and worshiped with me until I was filled with the Spirit of the Lord. From that day, I was on fire for God. I wanted to spend all day every day just basking in His presence.
Now, somebody, anybody, tell me how I could be filled with all that power and still fall for Luke’s sorry behind?
Me and Luke started off innocently enough, though. I never would’ve thought that he’d cheat on his wife. We worked on a conference planning committee together and found out that we had lots of things in common. At first I felt uncomfortable when he started sharing his marital problems with me. But then Luke struck me as exciting and dangerous.
My mother was devastated when she found out I was pregnant. She just kept saying that she had failed as a mother. She still cries when me and Joshua visit her. I’ll be glad when shegets over this.
I’m so deep in thought that I don’t even notice that Pam is standing in front of my desk until she starts talking.
“Taylor, I need you to make fifty copies of this three-page memo, collate and staple them. I need it by the end of the day.”
I take the memo from Pam and smile. She does not smile back.
“Sure, no problem. Pam, can I ask you a question?”
“Yes.” Her tone is all business.
“Have I done something to offend you? If so, please tell me.”
She sighs. “Yvonne told me, Taylor.” Her voice is so low no one else could hear her.
I feel my cheeks heat up. I really don’t want Pam to judge me for what Luke and I did. I didn’t know that her opinion had become so important to me.
“Well, Pam, I’m sure she didn’t tell you the whole story.”
“I don’t need the whole story. From what I do know, you should be begging Yvonne for forgiveness.”
“I’m not begging that woman for anything, especially since she’s taking food out of my baby’s mouth.”
Pam crosses her arms. “I think that you’ve got Yvonne all wrong. I just want you to remember something, Taylor: The mistress doesn’t have any rights.”
“Mistress? What?”
“I’m not trying to be funny, Taylor. Read about Hagar and Abraham.”
Her reference is to Abraham’s mistress, Hagar. If she would recall that story correctly, Sarah gave Hagar to Abraham. I know that what we did was not right, but maybe somebody needs to look at Yvonne’s marriage and see what went wrong instead of just labeling me a home wrecker. Pam is right on one thing, though: I don’t have any rights. I don’t have a say or the upper hand. I’m hanging out in the wind.
Even though I may have nothing coming, my son, on the other hand, does have rights. He has the right to know who his father is, and he has the right to be loved by him. How come nobody cares about Joshua’s rights? Well, that’s why he has a mama. I don’t care what anybody says, my baby boy is going to get his.
Yvonne
T
his courtroom is cold. I think it’s colder in here than it is outside, and December is no joke in Cleveland. I rub my hands together, trying to generate a little heat. It’s not doing any good.
Luke doesn’t look cold, though. In fact, I can see beads of sweat on his forehead. He keeps rubbing his hands on his pants, and his knee is shaking. I place my hand over his. No matter what the outcome is today, I want him to know that I’m in his corner. That is no easy feat, though. It’s taking all the Holy Ghost in me to still believe in this man.
I peek across the room at Taylor. She’s sitting alone and looks almost serene, confident. She’s got all those blonde locks slicked back into a ponytail, and she decided to go a little low-key on the makeup. She must be trying to look like a good mommy and not at all like a husband-stealing vixen. But what does she have to worry about? She doesn’t have anything to lose. Not like me and Luke.
Luke insisted on bringing a lawyer, even though this is not a trial. It’s not even what they call a hearing. It’s just a “neutral location” for Luke to receive the results of the paternity test. I think they could’ve just mailed them to our home. It’s the kind of news that a person shouldn’t get in public.
The mediator finally comes into the room after we’ve been waiting for about a half hour. I was expecting it to be a man, and I was expecting him to be dressed like a judge. Surprisingly, the mediator is a woman and she’s wearing a smart-looking pantsuit. Shouldn’t somebody dress up when they’re about to change your life?
Luke’s eyes don’t move from the large yellow envelope that the mediator holds. He looks ready to lunge across the table and snatch it. She sure is taking her time getting settled too. Luke’s sitting over here trying to keep from convulsing, and she’s arranging her pens and tissue box. Some people are just plain inconsiderate of other people’s feelings.
She finally clears her throat and starts talking. “Good afternoon. We are here today to administer the results of the paternity test taken by Luke Hastings in reference to Joshua Johnson. Before I give the results, let me just say that a positive test is ninety-eight percent accurate or better. The results may be disputed at your own expense.”
The mediator takes the yellow envelope and opens it slowly and tortuously. I squeeze Luke’s hand, and ever so slightly, I feel him squeeze back.
“In the case of Joshua Johnson, Luke Hastings, you are the father. With ninety-nine point nine percent accuracy.”
Luke’s hand goes limp. I think he’s in shock. Taylor looks over at Luke and shakes her head. Funny, she doesn’t look like she’s gloating.
I don’t know how I should feel. I think I’m supposed to be angry, but I’m not. I feel more relieved than anything, relieved to finally know the truth.
“According to the financial documents submitted by Mr. Hastings, this court invokes a temporary child support order of one hundred fifty dollars a week, to start immediately.”
Luke stands up and roars angrily, “What! A hundred fifty a week? The kid is only a baby. What does she need that much money for?”
“Sir, please be seated. This is a temporary order. You will be given a date in family court where you will be able to dispute this amount at that time. Until then, the order stands.”
Luke remains standing for a few seconds. He’s looking over at Taylor with hate in his eyes. I hope he doesn’t try to do something stupid. That’s the last thing we need.
“Well, if I have to pay all of this money, what about my rights? Don’t I even get to see the child?”
“Sir, that will also be decided in family court.”
Taylor chuckles. “Oh, so now you want to see him, huh? You’re a joke, Luke.”
I close my eyes and try to block out this room and everybody in here. For some reason, in the back of my mind I haven’t really believed any of this until now. I’d been thinking of Taylor as some kind of lunatic that wanted my husband to be her child’s father. When I look at her, all I see is a tired woman. Well, she ain’t the only one.
What are we supposed to do now? Is Luke going to want to have the child at our house on weekends and holidays? Am I supposed to be all right with a constant reminder of my husband’s infidelity? Why should I have to be the one made to feel uncomfortable?
I open up my eyes slowly and let the real world back in. They’re talking about methods of payment for the child support. Six hundred dollars a month does seem like a lot, but I guess I don’t know how much it takes to raise a child. Even though Luke acted a fool, that small amount of money is not going to hurt us. Not really. I might not be able to go shopping as much as I used to, but that’s about the extent of it.
Luke seems rattled when the mediator decides to have the money garnished from his paycheck. I think it’s a good option, though. This way, he don’t have to have any contact with Taylor. No phone calls, no visits. Luke says he’s being treated like someone who has bad credit. Well, I think he does have bad credit, especially with me.
Luke cheating on me is something that I don’t think I can forget. It’s just going to have to fade. Funny about the mind. It can believe a lot of stuff that you’ve never seen, and deny a whole heap of stuff it has seen with its own two eyes.
I must not be paying attention, because everyone is standing. So I guess this little hearing is over. Taylor looks over at me, sadly, and not at all like someone who is walking away victorious. I want to talk to her, but she leaves the courtroom quickly. It’s probably best that she did, because I don’t know what to say to her. I’m feeling somewhat apologetic toward her, and it confuses me. Should I be sorry about any of this?
Luke is arguing with his lawyer. I don’t even get close enough to hear the details. Why bother anyway? It almost seems like he doesn’t want to take care of this child. His child. I thought the man I married would stand up to his responsibilities. But this Luke is not the man I married. Or maybe Luke’s always been like this, and I’ve been blind for two decades. Sometimes, I think, a lie is better than the truth.
Pam
W
e bought this house too fast, but that’s what black people do when they get a little money. I never thought I’d be able to go and pick out a four-hundred-thousand-dollar house and pay cash for it. It would have been more, but after I paid my tithe and offering, I was willing to be practical. Plus, this money is going to have to stretch.
I can’t say that Troy is using any common sense with his share of the money. He bought a Cadillac Escalade to go with his Benz, and instead of building his studio in our home, he decided to purchase a small location. He says that it’s time for him to leave the house every day and act like he has a real job. Real job, huh? Well, that’s the first time I ever heard him use that expression, and I’m not about to argue with that.
Admittedly, I went just a tad bit overboard furnishing my home. I bought everything that I’ve always wanted. The four-poster bed in my bedroom—bought it! The solid cherry canopy beds for my girls—bought them! The blue velvet brocade sofa that’s in my parlor—bought it!
I’ve been gone from my job for two days, and I hardly know what to do with myself. I still get up early, but instead of rushing around at breakneck speed, I have a peaceful start to my day. My girls didn’t even really know what breakfast was until now. They didn’t know that Mommy could do wonders with French toast and scrambled eggs.
I keep wondering why the Lord chose us to bless with this money. Is there something that He has for me to do? Did the Lord free me of my job so that I could work for Him? I’ve never been into the missionary guild and whatnot. I always thought there were too many old women, set in their old ways.
I try to work on my novel, but when I sit down to write, nothing happens. I’ve got tons of stories inside me, but they just won’t make their way onto the paper. I sit in front of the computer and my mind draws a blank.
Today, instead of trying to birth a story from nowhere, I decide to take the girls down to Troy’s studio. They want to know where Daddy works, and I’m already getting cabin fever. I guess I could probably clean something or cook dinner even, but I’ve hired a maid to come in twice a week, and we can eat out.
