Fool and Her Honey (9781622860791) (2 page)

Dina had been worrying me to death about visiting her church with her, and since I'd made this deal with the Lord, I decided to go with her one Sunday and see what good picks were available in the congregation where she worshipped. Who knows? I might just meet Mr. Right.

I slipped into a white maxi dress that had large, bold red, orange, and yellow flowers and paired it with a matching shrug. My French pedicure still looked pretty fresh, although it had been weeks since I'd gotten my feet done, so I strapped on a pair of red four-inch sandals. I kept my makeup to a minimum because in the heat of the day, it did nothing but slide off my face. A little mascara to make my eyes pop, a little gloss so my lips did the same, and a little bronzer so I looked gently kissed by the sun, and I was ready to go.

I pulled up to her church about ten minutes before the service was scheduled to start, found a seat midway in the sanctuary, one not too close but not too far from anyone, then sent Dina a text.

Dina didn't reach me until just before the praise and worship part of the service started, which required everyone to stand.

“What's wrong with you?” I asked. Dina was looking a little crazy in the face.

“Nothing. Just had a stressful morning,” she answered with a quick shake of her head. “I'm fine.”

I didn't believe her, because almost as soon as the people on the stage, altar, or platform, or whatever it was called in church, started singing, Dina began to cry. Her tears started off slowly but were soon traveling rapidly down her face, even though she tried to hold it together. Her shoulders were trembling as she kept gasping and sniffing into a wad of tissue handed to her by a passing usher. Whatever it was, she was pretty torn up about it, but I let her cry in peace and not gawk at her and force her to tell me what was going on.

I was trying to concentrate on the words, the music, and the worship. I couldn't quite get my mind on that particular track with Dina quietly sobbing on one side of me and my thoughts circling around who I could possibly find as a suitable mate. My eyes kept scanning for available men, even though I tried to stop myself at least four times. Shameful, I knew, but it was what it was.

They sang maybe three songs, then went through announcements and a welcome that required me to stand unwillingly again to be acknowledged as a first-time visitor. During this time, Dina seemed to pull herself together, but she was still looking right sad. I wanted to pinch her on the leg for all this standing up and carrying on, but I had to remember my deal with God. I didn't want to give Him any reason to renege.

It wasn't until the choir was preparing to sing that I saw a gentleman who caught my eye. He stepped to the front of the choir, picked up a microphone, and flashed a smile that was worthy of magazine print. He was dressed in charcoal-gray slacks, a slate-blue shirt, and a tie that blended well with both.

“Praise the Lord, everybody!” he yelled, to which the congregation mumbled a response, repeating his words. He said it twice more, and the congregation grew louder with their response each time. “I'm a little nervous this morning, but He's still worthy, amen.”

“That's all right, baby,” a woman replied from behind me.

I leaned over and whispered to Dina, “Who is that?”

“His name is Hamilton Taylor.”

Hamilton opened his mouth and let out a singing voice so soulfully beautiful, it gave me goose bumps.

“Take my heart and mold it. Take my mind, transform it. Take my will, conform it to yours, to yours, oh, Lord!” he sang with his eyes tightly closed and his brows scrunched down over his eyelids. He sounded amazing.

“You better sing, Hamm!” Dina shouted beside me, clapping her hands wildly. “That boy can sing!”

I felt like I was in the Eddie Murphy movie
Coming to America,
in the scene where the three men were listening to the group Sexual Chocolate botch Whitney Houston's “The Greatest Love of All.” It made me laugh out loud, but the difference was that Hamilton, Hamm—whatever his name was—really could sing, and I was moved and impressed. When the song ended, about two thousand people were standing up all over the sanctuary, clapping, crying, holding up their hands, and waving their arms in the air, along with shouting words of praise.

“So what's his deal?” I whispered to Dina as most people were getting resettled in their respective seats. A few remained standing and carrying on.

“I'll tell you later,” she blurted under her breath.

I didn't know if that meant something bad or if she just didn't want to be bothered right now. I decided to assume it was the latter, and because I was anxious to hear all about him, or whatever Dina knew, the service seemed excessively long. Finally, the last amen was said. I grabbed my purse and followed Dina toward the door, ready to get outside and hear what she had to say about Hamilton. Instead of her beating a path to the exit, Dina stopped along the way to hug and say hello to what seemed like every single person there.

“I'll meet you at the house,” I interjected between her chitchatty lines with another woman about an upcoming women's conference. I made my way through a mini throng of people, some moving, others standing and talking, and finally reached the foyer. Much to my surprise and luck, Hamilton was standing by one of the exits, handing out some kind of flyer to passersby. I eased my way over there pretending that my only intention was to leave the building.

“How're you doing, sis?” he said, pushing a flyer my way.

“Good, thank you. What's this?”

“Oh, we're having a community day the Saturday after next, and we need a few more volunteers. You were one of the first-time visitors, right?” he asked while others rushed past me, grabbing flyers from him, patting him on the back, and speaking a few words.

“Yeah,” I answered, half looking at him and half reading the flyer.

“Well, thank you for visiting us. How'd you enjoy the service?”

“It was great.” Then I looked at him directly. “I really enjoyed your song. You have a beautiful voice.”

“Thank you, sis. It's nothing,” he said, looking bashful.

“No, it was awesome,” I replied, complementing him further.

“Well, thank you.”

“I'm going to have to see what I have on the calendar for this day,” I commented, holding my now rolled-up flyer in my hand. “It would be nice to give back to the community.”

“Yeah. We can use all the help we can get. If you have any questions about it, feel free to give me a call at the number that's up there.”

I thanked him again and almost skipped to my car, impressed with how fast God worked. Premature excitement, I knew, but what was wrong with that?

Brunch was at my house, so I rushed home to make Mediterranean chicken wraps, cut up some fresh fruit, and prepare mimosas for us ladies. I broiled hot dogs and set out chips and lemonade for the kiddies. I had a few board games to keep them occupied, as well, but normally Celeste's boys kept themselves occupied with handheld video game systems.

I hoped Dina would be in a talking mood once she got to my house so she could tell me a little more about Hamilton.

“Slow your roll, homegirl,” I coached myself out loud, knowing how quickly in the past I had thrown myself wholeheartedly into a relationship mess. “Don't be so quick to take a dive.”

 

 

“So, Dina, give me the rundown on Hamilton.” I couldn't help myself. I attacked her as soon as she stepped both feet inside my condo.

“What do you want to know?” she answered, then immediately turned her attention to her cell phone, having received a text that obviously required her immediate attention. She was silent for several seconds as her thumbs went to work on a response, but she didn't circle back around to what I'd asked once she dropped her phone in her purse. “Lawd! These shoes were killing me today. Woo-weee!”

I waited for her to get back to me after she eased her feet out of her heels and wiggled her toes, but she acted like I hadn't asked anything at all.
Let me give it a few minutes,
I thought. Maybe she needed to get some food in her system to get her brain cells going.

“This chicken wrap is so good, girl. What all is in it?” She stuffed her mouth with another bite, then jumped up from the table and flew to the door, stating that she needed to get somebody's phone number from her car.

One thing that irritated me about Dina was she knew how to be conveniently distracted to keep from answering questions. I could give her church and worship time, but now that we were sitting at my dining room table and she didn't have tears rolling down her face, I expected her to start talking.

“Dina, stop ignoring me,” I practically whined when she returned from her car.

“Ignoring you about what?” she asked, thumbing through her phone. “Oh, let me text Sister Edmonds while my mind is on it.”

Oh, now her ass had forgotten. Dina could be really self-absorbed sometimes. Whatever. I'd just find out for myself.

Believe it or not, the best part of my day was getting out of my own home and going to work just so I could get away from my husband for eight hours, and I didn't even like my job that much. The best part of his day was probably seeing me leave, because he'd have the next eight hours to do what he did best when he was between jobs—absolutely nothing. That was how it had been for every single year of our marriage. Maybe I could make it through one more day.

With a sigh, I sat up and planted my feet on the floor. I was about to get up for the day, leaving Equanto on his side of the bed, snoring as usual. I had only a few minutes to myself in the bathroom to take care of my personal business and get dressed before I'd have the kids on my heels with their daily breakfast, getting dressed, and their school drop-off routine. If I expected to enjoy my cup of coffee in peace this morning, I needed to hustle.

Before I stood up, I reached toward the foot of the bed, grabbed my robe, slipped my arms into the sleeves, and pulled it around my body. I didn't want Equanto to crack his eyes and catch sight of my almost naked body on my way to the bathroom. Every time he saw me even partially undressed, he would make some kind of comment in reference to my weight, not to mention the faces he made when he saw me butt-bald naked.

I knew I needed to lose some weight, and by some, I meant at least one hundred pounds, as my current weight was right at two fifty-six. That was what having babies could do to a woman. That, and my worst catch-22 ever, which was when I didn't feel good about my weight, I got depressed, and when I got depressed, I ate a lot. Then, when I ate a lot, I gained weight, and when I gained weight, I didn't feel good about it.

It wasn't like I didn't try to control it; I did. Seemed like every other day, I was trying to be on a diet: a restriction diet, calorie counting, the watermelon diet, the no-carbs diet, the rice diet, Atkins, Jenny Craig, the Master Cleanse, HCG drops. You name it, I'd tried it at least for a day or two, but I'd never been successful, because I just loved good food. I loved the way it tasted and how it felt in my mouth. It was comforting to me when my world was in disarray, which was most of the time.

Nothing made me feel as good as a great plate of food: some fried chicken, candied yams, butter beans with bacon cooked in, homemade macaroni and cheese, corn bread, buttery biscuits, coconut cake, deep fried pies, chocolate chip cookies.... I could go on forever. A few pieces of carrot and a handful of grapes with a boiled egg and a cup of yogurt didn't do a thing for me but make me cranky and irritable. I had enough drama going on in my home without me contributing to it with rabbit-style eating habits.

To make sure my day was off to a good start, I planned to cook the kids homemade waffles topped with strawberry preserves, scrambled eggs with cheese, and sausage. The kind that came in a plastic roll and had to be formed into patties by hand, then fried up in a pan. Lawd, that was some good eating right there! I hurried through my shower to give me enough time to cook before I had to get the kids on the school bus.

It took about ten minutes of quick cooking to create an aroma powerful enough to call my boys out of their sleep. Linwood padded into the kitchen first, rubbing his eyes.

“Good morning, Mommy,” he mumbled, throwing his arms around my waist when he reached me.

“Good morning, baby. You hungry?”

“Yes. I was dreaming that I was eating pancakes, and then I woke up.”

“How about waffles instead?”

“Yummy!” He smiled, looking over at the waffle maker to check the ready light indicator. “Is it ready yet?”

“Go wash your face and brush your teeth and wake your brothers up. Then you can eat.”

Once the three of them, Linwood, Quincy, and Jerrod, were seated and eating, I rushed to my bedroom and pulled on a pair of elastic-waist black pants and a camisole, curled my hair, and threw on some makeup. My favorite royal blue blouse was laid out on the back of a chair today. The office staff at the realty company I worked at as an admin had to take new badge pictures, and the blouse went well with my skin tone and made me look radiant . . . and not so big, which was good for photos.

“You make me a plate?” Equanto asked, still reclining in bed but reaching over to the nightstand to get the TV remote.

Oh God, he was up.

“No, but there's some in there on the stove when you get ready to eat,” I answered, not looking at him, but instead pulling at my eyes to apply my eyeliner.

“Okay, I'm ready to eat now.”

“Great. The kitchen is in the same place as it was last night when you went to bed, E. I know you remember where it is.”

“So you can't serve your man?”

“Are you going to get the kids dressed?”

“How long is it gonna take you to put some food on a plate and bring it in here?” he asked, disregarding my question.

“It'll take me no time today, because I'm not going to do it.”

“See? That's messed up right there.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I walked out of the bedroom to tend to the children, leaving him mumbling words that I'd rather not hear under his breath. I'd heard them all before, anyway. He was just calling me names, and I didn't have time to get my emotions all worked up this morning.

While I dressed the kids, Equanto yelled from the bedroom, “I'm 'bout to get dressed and I'ma need the car today, so don't leave me. I'll drop you off at work.”

“What do you need the car for, Equanto?”

“I got some things to do today,” he said, appearing in the doorway of the boys' room, bare-chested and in his boxers.

“Like what?”

I already knew that he had nothing to do but wreak havoc on our lives, both mine and his own. We'd been through this type of thing a million times before. Whenever he needed to use the car, something crazy would happen. Crazy like one time he'd been on the way to give the landlord the rent money. He stopped by the convenience store to get a soda and left the money on the front seat of the car, because he forgot about it. When he came back out, the money was gone. Crazy like as soon as he cashed his check, some dudes came up to the car while he was at a traffic light, held a gun to his head, and demanded his wallet Then they took all the money out and threw the wallet back in the car, hitting him in the face with it. Crazy like he made a mistake and left the front door unlocked when he went to the grocery store. When he came back, someone had come in the house and had taken all the boys' video games but had left the rest of the house intact. Hell, no, he wasn't getting the car.

“I need to go check on this job one of my boys told me about that pays more money than the one I was trying to get.”

“Just call them, because you're not getting this car.”

“Call them?” He crinkled his brows. “Don't nobody be taking job applications over the phone no more.”

“Well, I don't know what you're gonna do, then.” I shrugged, pushing past him to put my blouse on and complete my look. The two minutes it took me to put on my blouse and throw on some accessories were the same two minutes it took my husband to grab and hide my keys and my cell phone. He watched me circle the house, turning stuff upside down in a complete panic, having a cussin', screaming fit for twenty minutes, while he lay back on the bed, watching BET.

“I gotta go to work, E. Stop playing!” I was on my last and final leg at work for being late and having to miss work, and I was in no position to lose my job.

“Ain't nobody playing. Get your ass out there and catch the bus if you gotta leave.”

“You know damn well that's gonna make me late for work!” If I didn't get out of that house in the next two minutes, I'd never make it to downtown Phoenix in time for work.

“I told you, I don't know what you did with them.”

“It's not about what I did with them. It's what
you
did with them.”

“I ain't had 'em,” he lied.

I knew he was lying, and it didn't take me long to become frustrated and angry and to burst into tears. I called Candis, hoping her day wasn't jam-packed with appointments. She heard how upset I was, so I didn't have to say much to get her to pick me and the kids up willingly, drop me off at work, and take my boys to school, but by the time I got to work, it was too late. I'd already been written up quite a few times for being late, and most of the time it was for this same type of mess, and by me being late and not calling, my boss had no more tolerance. He had termination papers waiting on me when I got there, forty-five minutes past my scheduled start time.

I didn't call Candis back for a ride a second time. I cried first as I walked to the bus stop. Then, instead of going home, where I wasn't sure that I'd be able to control my emotions enough to keep from killing my husband, I took the bus that would drop me off near Golden Corral.