Lundyn Bridges (16 page)

While we were having lunch the following Tuesday, Kiarra informed me of her plans to spend the weekend at Seven Springs with Xavier. Up until that
point, as far as I knew, their meetings were intermittent, and the relationship was being sustained by phone calls.

"He sent me this diamond tennis bracelet."

She held out her arm to show me the bracelet. I said nothing.

"Lundyn, I love him. Why can't you understand that?"

"Kiarra, he hit you. Why can't you understand that?"

"Did I blast you for loving Sam?"

"He never hit me." I bit my bottom lip. My intention was not to be confrontational, but I was beyond frustrated. "How long have you been planning this with him?" My tone was demanding.

Kiarra wouldn't look at me. "Since Valentine's Day." She answered, looking across the room at nothing in particular. "He said we needed to get back to our true relationship and stop playing the dating game. He cried, Lundyn, and swore he would never hit me again. He just wanted one more chance."

When she turned to face me, I was staring at her in complete disbelief.

"I put him off the first two times he asked," she whined. "But he kept calling. And then the picture of me and you in New York – he didn't tear it up – he had it reframed and he sent it to me. The frame says Best Friends."

There were no words to express my disgust with my best friend. She was beautiful and intelligent. What was I not saying that could get her to see the realities of Xavier? What had she missed in our class? I couldn't finish my lunch – I got up and walked away. I had to digest the information and planned to call Kiarra later that evening, when I wasn't angry.

Nothing I said mattered to Kiarra. She was determined to give Xavier another chance to seriously hurt or kill her. I made a choice to bow out.

"I can't watch you do this to yourself," I told her after our forty-five minute heated discussion. "You're my best friend Kiarra. I love you, but I can't do it."

"So what does that mean?" She was getting angry and her demeanor was spiteful. “Is this the easy way for you to diss me because you now have Jamel?” Her words were cutting.

"Ki, you know that's not true. I'll be here, as your best friend, to pick up the pieces."

Kiarra hung up on me. I cried myself to sleep. The next morning I prayed for her and for my strength. What would I do without my best friend?

Kiarra and I avoided each other at work. It was painfully awkward merely saying hello or discussing client strategies. I planned to talk to her at Bible Study on Wednesday, but she didn't show up. I called her office on Thursday and left a message inviting her to lunch. She didn't return my call. On Friday I went to her office to confront her only to find she called off.

Later that evening, I called Mom Woodard to update her on my life. I told her about Jamel and admitted really liking him. I told her about Kiarra and waited for her to tell me what to do.

"You've got to figure it out, Lundyn. What would you want her to do if the tables were turned?"

Mom Woodard was trying to be encouraging, but I wanted her to give me the answer. She told me, as she had many times in the past, that I had been planted for a purpose. She encouraged me to read the book of Nehemiah.

I called Romen and planned a visit so he could meet Jamel. Then I called Jamel. Before I could ask him about the upcoming weekend, I began to cry about Kiarra. He came over. He understood my friendship with Kiarra and just held me while I cried.

"Your friendship with Kiarra is admirable." Jamel took a tissue from the box on the coffee table and wiped my tears.

My life seemed to be spinning out of control – my emotional strings were taut and I found myself unable to write. There was too much current pain. The drive to Erie with Jamel was a welcomed diversion, but my conversation with Romen tainted my temporary respite. Romen told me of his suspicions about Afreeka's drinking. Then he held me while I cried for our sister. He admitted to feeling helpless.

Jamel held my hand but let me ride in silence back to Pittsburgh. I regretted having asked him to come. He said he understood.

Kiarra continued to treat me as a casual acquaintance and refused to return my phone calls. My sessions with Francine were insignificant, and for about two weeks I was unable to be therapeutic. I met with Kathleen and admitted my inability to write. She agreed a visit to Naples might be good. I called Mom Woodard on Thursday night and planned a trip for the following weekend.

The Woodard's, as always, welcomed me with open arms. Pop Woodard had many questions about
Jamel and indicated his desire to meet him – sooner than later. We had a father-daughter talk about relationships, and he wanted to make sure I felt good about being with Jamel. No pretense and no pressure was how he described the makings of a good relationship.

After dinner, I admitted feeling my life had taken a turn for the worse and was now falling apart. My relationship with Jamel seemed to be the only bright spot, and I felt guilty about continuing to dump on him. I told them the saga of Kiarra and my fears of Xavier seriously hurting her – especially now that he had successfully alienated us from each other.

"Afreeka's life is falling apart, too," I said holding my glass with both hands. "She's been drinking. A lot."

The Woodard's did not respond. I was unsure if they knew or if they just didn't know what to say.

"Do you think she would have started drinking if we weren't separated?" Tears began to swell in my eyes. "Every time I think things will get better, something else happens." A tear fell. "When will it get better?"

"I can't answer that, but whatever your journey, God has equipped you," Pop Woodard gently replied, flipping through his Bible. "God knows where you're going and every stop along the way. You just have to listen to His voice to navigate." Pop Woodard began to read Matthew 17:20.
“ ‘He (Jesus) replied, because you have so little faith, I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, Move from here to there and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.'
Sometimes we don't see it," he said, closing the Bible and taking my
hand. "But God equips us for the journey. If you have the faith, Lundyn, you can tell the mountain to move."

We talked until after midnight, and I also shared with them how worried I was about Romen's refusal to acknowledge his pain.

Mom Woodard always gave a fresh perspective. "The only difference between you, Afreeka and Romen is Christ. Have you shared Him with them?"

I had not made any conscious efforts to witness to my siblings about the difference Jesus made in my life, but at that moment I resolved I would. My siblings needed to know the God of comfort, too.

That night, I slept soundly. The Woodard's continued to be my source of reassurance and going home always felt good. Even the deepest of my wounds were healed by their love.

We had breakfast by the pool before they took me to the airport. Three days in Naples was therapeutic. As the plane landed in Pittsburgh, I tucked all the love of the Woodard's into my heart. Their continued support would be the strength I needed to face my current challenges.

Jamel met me at the airport and we went to eat at the Olive Garden. Over dinner, we talked about my visit with the Woodard's and I attempted to explain how their love changed my life. Jamel indicated his desire to personally thank them. Then he winked at me. When Jamel dropped me off at my apartment, he kissed me as we stood at the door. This kiss was different – he held me tightly, like he didn't want to let me go. When I opened my eyes, his were still closed like he was savoring the moment.

"Does this mean we're not friends anymore?" I asked modestly, still wrapped in his arms.

"Well, I hope this means we're ready to take this to the next level."

"Yeah," I smiled. "Me, too."

Jamel kissed me again. Then he took a deep breath and stepped away from me. He held my hands in his and smiled. “See you tomorrow.”

I watched him walk down the hall before closing the door.

My efforts to re-connect with my best friend were futile. Kiarra also stopped attending Bible study and Sunday services. She remained cordial at work, and that drove me crazy. I mailed her a four page letter describing the value of our friendship and asked her to please call me so we could talk. On Wednesday evening I saw Xavier picking her up from work in her car. He rolled down the window as I walked by and smiled at me. At that moment, I understood why women threw bricks.

My sessions with Francine began to take on new meaning in March. She seemed to take her goals more seriously and finally committed to a training program. Manpower initiated a Customer Service program in conjunction with Citizens Bank, and Francine had been accepted. She enjoyed working on the telephone and never having to see people face to face. She even admitted feeling sorry for people who couldn't pay their bills because that had been her at one time. When children answered the phone she refused to badger them, even if she suspected the mother was at home and the child was lying. That was progress for Francine, but I
still didn't trust her. History had proven the inconsistencies in her personality and demeanor.

As a part of my healing, I took a deeper look at Francine. She was, I assumed, very much like my mother. I wondered if my mother had had Francine's guilt and allowed myself to believe she ended her life because the guilt was greater than what crack could erase. I wanted Francine to be whole – I understood her brokenness and knew she needed to be healed on the inside. No amount of therapy would matter as long as her heart remained guilty. I began to earnestly pray for Francine. I also asked God to give me a door to talk about the saving grace of Christ.

Against everything I learned in graduate school, I became adamant about being deliberate in witnessing to Francine. After realizing God had been the difference in my life, and after admitting I cradled my feelings of worthlessness, I made a concerted choice to be whole. My zeal to share this new found deliverance was a burning desire. It was more than just me wanting to do it – I knew I had to. Meeting Francine was not by accident – there was some bigger picture I had yet to see clearly. Francine was searching for a release from the guilt of giving up her children for drugs, and I was searching for a release from feeling abandoned by a mother who chose drugs over me.

By this point, I was thoroughly engaged in therapy. Although a month had passed since my last journal entry, I promised myself that Saturday morning would be spent penning more memories.

March 10, 2005

As much as I began to appreciate the stability of living with the Woodard's, my spirit was wrenched. My siblings and I were separated, and my hopelessness wouldn't let me believe we would ever live together again. My caseworker arranged the monthly visits with my siblings, but these were subject to change, often without notice, based on the schedules of Mr. & Mrs. Teague and transportation arrangements from Girls Hope where Afreeka now resided. The visits were welcomed but emotionally draining. Four hours once per month was insufficient. The twins cried at the end of each visit, and my mind would replay Rah'Lee begging me not to let go of her hand. Romen never said much – I suspected he didn't want to cry. He tried to encourage us to be strong and always remember being together. Afreeka was very angry at our mother and spent each visit making sure we were angry at her, too. Hustin spent each visit pretending to be Romen's shadow, as if he were trying to take in enough of him, unsure of when, or if, he would see him again. I made sure to tell my brothers and sisters how much I loved them and hugged each of them, hard and long, before we parted. It was the hugs that sustained me until the subsequent visit.

Until next time…

My entry seemed trite, but I was looking forward to going out with Jamel and forced myself to write something before going to the movies. As I was
preparing to leave, Romen surprised me when he arrived about one-thirty that afternoon.