Fool and Her Honey (9781622860791) (19 page)

Feeling pain surge through my body, I tried to peel my eyes open, but they seemed to be held down with weights. So did the rest of my body. I could hear only a faint beeping noise, and then I felt someone rubbing on my right arm, which forced me to try a little harder to get my eyelids to part.

“Hey, sweetie,” a familiar voice cooed.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, focusing my vision on my mom.

“Cain't no devil in hell keep me away from my baby when she needs me.”

“Where am I at, Ma?” I said with slurred speech.

“In the hospital, baby.” She ran her hand across my face. “You had a heart attack.”

I eased my eyes back closed and let her words register. I was only thirty-one, and that was way too young for a heart attack. “Where's the boys, Ma?”

“Spending some time with Pop-Pop,” she answered, referencing my dad.

Thank God for my parents. They lived in San Diego, which was pretty much a straight shot down I-8, but about six hours away by car.

“When did you and Dad get here?”

“You mean, when did you get here to San Diego?”

“I'm in California?”

“Me and your dad had you transferred here. You don't need to be out there with that monster you married.”

I didn't comment, because my mom was right, and I was tired of defending Equanto, trying to find something good to say about him, when there wasn't anything good to say.

“Linwood told me what happened, and you know I had to talk your daddy out of killing that man. You do know that, right?”

I answered with a slight nod.

“I'ma go find a doctor or somebody to come in here and see how you're doing,” she said, kissing my forehead, then leaving the room.

A heart attack? I couldn't believe it. All over trying to stop Equanto from what he probably ended up doing, anyway. What exactly it was, I'd probably never know. I had a lot to think about. I couldn't live like this. It was time to stop living for the hope that one day E would love me like I wanted to be loved. He'd never loved me. Never. And I'd been too unwilling to admit it to myself. I knew it, but I didn't want to accept it. I wanted to think that he found me to be enough. Good enough, pretty enough, intelligent enough . . . enough for him to love me. It just wasn't there and wasn't going to materialize out of thin air.

As I lay there, unable to even lift my head off the pillow, hot tears began to stream down the sides of my head and into my ears. How the hell did I get here? I questioned myself. Allowing my husband to steal from me, be an awful example in front of my three boys, destroy my self-esteem, and now put my life at risk. Granted, I was sure some of my having a heart attack was attributed to my weight, but me being constantly stressed out had to have something to do with it too.

“Thank you, Lord,” I whispered, grateful that my life had been spared and I wasn't worse off than I was. I could barely move as it was, but at least I did wake up. That got me thinking how long I had been here. My mom said I was in San Diego, and since I didn't have any recollection of how I got there, I had no idea what day it was.

“The nurse'll be in here in a few minutes,” my mom shared, easing back into the room.

“What day is it, Ma?”

“Sunday.”

Sunday? The last time I remembered being conscious, it was Friday! I'd been knocked out for almost three days?

“Have the boys been up here?”

“Not yet.”

I had mixed feelings about that. I didn't know how bad I might have looked, at the same time, suppose I had died and my boys hadn't seen me? Well, it didn't matter now. I wasn't dead, and I wanted to see my children.

“Can you ask Daddy to bring them up here?”

“Once the doctor clears you a little bit more, of course, baby.”

I wondered if Candis and Dina knew where I was. Then I remembered Candis and I had had a bit of a falling-out when I last saw her. “And where's my cell phone?”

My mom rose from her seat and brought me my purse, then dug through it in front of me until she found my phone.

“Who are you trying to call?” she asked, checking. “It better not be Equanto Davis. I know that's your husband and all that, but I forbid you to call that man.”

“Ma, please. Let me fight my own battles and have my own testimonies,” I begged in a whisper. I knew my parents wanted only the best for me and had been devastated when I told them I'd jumped up and gotten married. And with them knowing some of our marriage issues, it didn't help in forming a positive impression of the man I'd married. “I just want to check my messages.”

My mom dialed into my voice mail, then pressed the phone to my face. Of course, Candis and Dina had both called, sounding panicked and concerned. My job had called, wondering why I'd not reported to work. I smiled when I heard Keith's voice come through the receiver.

“Hey there. Are you all right? Haven't seen you in a coupla days.”

Right after that I heard Equanto's voice start. I turned my head away, signaling my mom to take the phone and end the call. I didn't want to hear a single word Equanto had to say.

 

 

I was released from the hospital six days after I opened my eyes and realized where I was. I was still moving a little slow and decided to stay at my parents' house for a while, until I fully recuperated and got myself together. My mom and dad were glad to have me, and I'd never seen my boys look so happy and free. The sudden move impacted their school year, but kids moved all the time, and it probably wasn't that big of a deal, just a little bit of a hassle.

For the first time in a long time, I was able to really rest and not be bogged down with my usual messy life drama. I did miss Dina and Candis. They both had called to check on me, but each time was simply not an opportune time for me to talk with them. Besides that, I wasn't quite sure what to say to Candis, seeing as how last time I'd talked to her, the conversation wasn't pleasant. I owed her an apology, but I had to swallow some pride in order to give it.

I spent the first week just sitting in my old bedroom, thinking and crying about the decisions I'd made in my life, decisions that I regretted. As much as I loved my children, I hated the way Linwood was conceived, and because of my poor choices, he would probably never know his father. I regretted that I'd chosen Equanto as a mate and had two of his babies. I regretted that my sons were exposed to our fighting and arguing, Equanto's frequent disappearances and drama. I regretted finding comfort in food and eating myself to over three hundred pounds.

Keith's words kept coming back to me. “Why do you let him treat you that way?”

I wish I had an answer for myself. I wanted to say it was because it was what I had to do for the moment, but that wasn't true. I could have returned long ago to my parents' house if I'd needed to. I had to realize the power and strength I had in myself to walk away from a bad situation. Reaching over to my night table, I picked up my phone and sent Keith a text.

 

Hey you . . .

 

It was how he greeted me practically every morning.

That made me smile. I loved Keith; he was such a good friend.

Instead of my phone buzzing with a return text from Keith, it rang, displaying his number.

“Hey, you,” I answered.

“Girl! What are you doing in California?” he asked in mock reprimand.

“I had to escape from all that heat, literally and figuratively.” I chuckled.

“You have family out there?”

“Yeah, my parents. They are taking good care of me.”

“I'm so glad to hear that, Celeste. You deserve for someone to take good care of you.”

I wanted to say, “I wish it were you,” but that was the totally wrong thing to let escape my lips.

“I'd do it in a heartbeat if I had the chance,” he added and took my breath clean away.

“Boy, stop playing,” I said, brushing his comment off.

“I'm serious, Celeste. I don't mean no disrespect when I say this, but your husband is a damn fool.”

I didn't comment. It didn't feel right to agree with him, although I knew he was right. Keith telling me I was married to a fool made me feel like a fool for marrying him in the first place.

“I hate to see a man try to bring a good woman down, and that's what I see him doing to you. Tearing you down every chance he gets.”

“Well, we're not together right now so I can get myself together.”

“So you're going back once you get rested?”

“I mean . . .” I paused before trying to continue. “I don't—”

Keith cut me off. “You mean to tell me this joker done 'bout ran you over and dragged you down the street under the car and you haven't made a decision to leave his trifling, no-good ass alone?” This time Keith paused.

“I told you I have to work through some things,” I said, trying to defend myself.

“Celeste. I pray that one day you wake up and look in the mirror and see yourself for the beautiful woman you are. I pray that you realize your worth and your value. Until you can do that, you're going to keep on taking his BS over and over again, until that man puts you in your grave. He almost succeeded this time, but thanks be to God you're still here.”

While Keith spoke, I pinched my nose to keep from sniffing, not wanting him to know that I was crying.

“Wake up, sista. You got the power to turn your life around,” he added. “You have my number if you need anything. I'll talk to you another time.”

“Okay, Keith,” was all I was able to utter. Even after the call ended, I stared at the phone in my hand for thirty minutes, replaying his words over and over again in my head while tears fell from my eyes and landed in my lap.

“I can do this,” I said out loud to myself. “I can do this.”

While we'd kept up with Celeste via text, neither of us had seen her since the day at the bridal store. We both missed our friend and cleared our weekend to make the drive to San Diego to visit. Candis filled me in on the latest details of her wedding for a great part of the drive, which, after the first hour, I was sick of listening to. She was so excited about her pending nuptials, as any bride would be, me included if I was actually going to marry Bertrand, but I could no longer see myself doing that and being happy.

With the way things were right now, I was already on the verge of being completely miserable, and I just didn't see how sealing the deal with a marriage was going to fix anything. I felt myself slipping right back into the same pattern I'd been in when I was with Cameron, trying to accept and justify unacceptable behavior, including infidelity. I couldn't mess around and marry a cheater a second time, pretending like I had no idea. It just didn't feel like love to me, despite what came out of his mouth.

I pushed a stream of air from my mouth, thinking about the last argument we'd had over this very thing.

Even after Bertrand asked me what it was that he could do to earn my trust once again, and I told him, he'd not followed through. I'd asked him to clean up and throw out all his old relationship paraphernalia. Love letters, teddy bears, panties, cards, whatever. I wanted it all gone. Instead of complying and appeasing me, Bertand made excuses for why he couldn't do it, claiming it would take too much time, claiming that he had too much stuff to look through. I felt insulted and disrespected, to say the least. How could this man say he loved me and wanted to marry me, but then want to keep memories from relationships from times past? Was I not worth some “old” panties and love letters?

Then, looking at the type of man Celeste was married to, I felt a little silly complaining about things that seemed so minor in comparison to some of the stories Celeste shared with Candis and me. But still in my heart, it didn't feel right. Bertrand just didn't fit, and I wasn't willing to force myself to get used to it. I just couldn't see how Celeste had dealt with Equanto all these years.

I really hoped Celeste was okay and preparing her life for some major changes, even if it meant she'd be staying in San Diego with her parents instead of returning to her sorry excuse for a husband. I knew what it was like to really want to have a man, but I couldn't see being with someone who put me through as many things as she'd been through with Equanto—from his constant disappearing acts to him stealing her entire purse and throwing away vital records to make it look like a
real
robbery, not to mention the way he talked to her, calling her stupid, fat, good for nothing, and everything but a child of God. I knew only of a few times that they'd actually gotten physical, with him pushing and elbowing her, jacking her up against the wall, and craziness like that, but I knew the worst details of those times, Celeste kept to herself.

I felt bad for Celeste but tried not to judge her, because I hadn't taken a single step in her shoes. I didn't know what it was like to feel some sort of loyalty to a man because he was the father of my kids. I didn't know what it was like to feel guilty about taking those kids away from their father. Or to depend on an abusive man for a few dollars so that the kids could eat or could have lights and water. What I did know was Celeste didn't need that man in her life for any reason. He was nasty and manipulative, and I hated that Celeste had not only married him, but had chosen to stay with him.

Celeste had even told me about a time he'd brought a gun into their home and threatened to kill himself in front of her and the boys. I just couldn't imagine living under that kind of stress, control, and fear.

“We shouldn't go empty-handed,” I mentioned to Candis, pulling into a Wal-Mart parking lot. “We can get a fruit basket and some flowers or something.”

“If Celeste says anything stupid out her mouth today, I don't care if she's getting over a heart attack or not, she's gonna get dealt with.” Candis pulled her purse up on her shoulder as we walked through the lot.

“Are you still mad at her? Girl, let it go!”

“I'm just saying. I'm not coming all the way out here to be insulted,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Candis, please take the chip off your shoulder. She's been through a lot.”

“That doesn't mean she can just say anything she wants to.”

“Just decide to be the bigger person,” I suggested as we walked through the sliding doors and on to the produce department. “I doubt she's going to be in her usual snappy mood, anyway.”

“Probably not, but still, you know how she can be.”

Candis did have a point; Celeste was not one to bite her tongue.

“I'll go pick a card while you get the fruit.” She walked off toward the stationery department, while I lifted prepackaged baskets of mixed fruits, looking for the best one.

“Lord, please don't let these women fight today,” I prayed. Candis did act concerned when we heard about Equanto practically dragging her around the parking lot while she clung to the car, or something like that. All I could think about was James Byrd, Jr., that man that was dragged to his death in Jasper, Texas, behind a pickup truck in 1998. Celeste had said it was nothing like that, but she always played down Equanto's behaviors like it was really no big deal. I hated that she didn't take his meanness seriously.

“It wasn't really that bad,” she'd say after she finished crying about him stealing her money, him slapping her in the face, him choking her over the car keys. “Trust me. He got some scratches and bruises too.”

I didn't care how many scratches he walked away with from her trying to free herself from his grasp or defend herself. She was no match for a full-grown man, and Equanto didn't deserve her. As strongly as I felt, though, I was determined to keep my mouth shut about it today and to try to support her as best I could during our visit.