Saint And Sinners (63 page)

You are a girl now. But one day, Isis, you won’t be a teenager anymore. You’ll be
a grown woman. Right now, you may be interested in dating. I’d prefer you to be fifty
before you seek romantic companionship, but I realize that isn’t reasonable or realistic.

A muffled laugh and a sniff on the other end of the line had him pause. Xenia sounded
like she’d been crying. Hell, he was on the verge of doing so himself.

“I…I put another smiley face there after I wrote that.”

She chuckled again. “Okay baby, keep going…”

“Okay…”

You will attract boys to you because you are what you are, and we’ve discussed it
by now. You will also attract them because you are beautiful and if you continue to
look like your mother…—yes, I lied a bit earlier, you do look like her, your almost
a dead ringer, Isis but you’re so beautiful, I tried to claim you all to myself…—Anyway,
if you’ve stayed that way, I am certain I will be threatening and waving guns around
at your suitors. They won’t be able to resist you.

“I…put another smiley face right there, too.”

“…Saint, if you stop and tell me about one more smiley face, you will be met with
the dial tone! Again! Now stop. Every time I get into it, you pull the rug out from
under me and tell me about these cartoons! I’m emotionally invested now!”

“Okay!” Saint laughed, and lay back onto the pillow.

Due to this attention, you will be making choices. Some of those choices may be good
ones; I hope the majority of them are, actually. I eventually did make a good decision,
too. I saw myself for what I was. There came a point in time, Isis, when I realized
I was extremely lonely and the road I was on only made things worse. I had hundreds
of people around me. I had joined an organization that specializes in the uplifting
of interracial relationships, particularly pertaining to beautiful, black Goddesses
dating Rainbeaus. I became a sensation, also due to the books I’ve written and conferences
I attended as the keynote speaker, which I’m certain you know all about by now. I
was entering a new phase of my life, and I wanted the type of relationship I was encouraging
other men to have and seek out. I wanted to walk my own talk, Isis. I realized I had
not attracted this particular woman because of what I was doing.

At the time, I was still engaging in unhealthy activity and having a lot of sex, even
though, at that point, I was spiritually bankrupting women, as well as myself. The
type of woman I wanted would not be attracted to someone behaving in this matter.
So what did I do? I sought help. I went to someone in my field of expertise, that
I trusted, and let him pick my brain so I could stop this behavior. The first and
hardest hurdle though, Isis, was to admit what I’d become. Isis, your father is many
things—some of those things I am proud of, some I am not. I am not proud of this,
but I have now used it to help others. Isis, I am a recovering sex addict. I say recovering
because once you are addicted to sex, you are always addicted to it; you just manage
it, and that’s what I’m doing. I do not cheat on your mother. I have no interest in
having sexual activity with any other woman except her. Have I been tempted to make
love to another woman? I can say emphatically that I have not. Am I still attracted
to other women? Most definitely. The reason being is because I am a sexual creature,
despite the addiction, just as we all are. I am in tune with my sexuality, I’m comfortable
with it, I accept it. Just because I find another woman alluring though does not mean
I take it to the next level.

I love your mother too much to ever risk losing her. I put in too much work, time
and energy into getting that woman, to ever let her go. I will get into our love story
in a moment, but I want to switch directions for a moment here.

When a young man approaches you to date, Isis, you will have a decision to make. Now,
I’ve noticed a trend as of late, and unless something drastic happens, I don’t see
it changing anytime soon. This trend Isis, is that young men are actually not approaching
young ladies to go on dates anymore. So, I have to even wonder now why I wrote that
previous sentence. I unfortunately, don’t feel many men will be asking you out; rather,
they will be asking you to come by their home, or to stop by and see you. They will
not court you as they are supposed to.

This was not the case when your mother and I met. Things were going downhill then,
but dating still existed and was expected to some degree. With the younger generations,
people are simply hooking up. There is not even a phone
call, merely a text message, and then things are happening that should not be. If
I were a teenager in your generation, Isis, it would have been even easier for me
to feed my addiction. Women are accepting anything. When I was a teenager, I had to
scrounge up some money many times to take the girl out to the movies, or to get a
bite to eat. The women didn’t want to be with a broke bastard, and it was painfully
clear that if you couldn’t do something for them, you weren’t even getting a kiss,
let alone anything more than that.

You had to wine and dine these women and sometimes they still may have gotten the
short end of the stick, but at least they wanted something before they put out. They
knew they were worth more than being free. This is not to say there is a price to
be paid for companionship, but there should be some level of investment.

Now, all a guy has to do is flash a little money and he can hit it before he has even
offered a down payment. This situation has forced guys to not even try anymore, Isis.
They don’t have to. It is like a pill made for one to lose twenty lbs. overnight.
Most people who desire to lose excess fat would take it, versus going to the gym.
And in that lies the problem. There is a universally growing lack of appreciation.
People only truly treasure what they have to earn and work for.

I want you to never sell yourself short, Isis. I don’t care how popular or good-looking
the guy is, how wealthy his family may be, and what he has told you, he needs to be
a gentleman. He needs to back up what he says with action.

If he wants to see you, he needs to ask to come over. He needs to pick up the phone
and call and then he needs to bring his ass over to the house. Your mother and I expect
to meet any young man who is taking our daughter out. I need to meet him, not to read
him, Isis, but to see the face of the person I am entrusting my child to. I expect
the young ladies Hassani and Dakarai will date to expect the same treatment of my
sons, so please believe me when I say this is no double standard. Your brothers are
being raised on how to treat women and what to expect from their future girlfriends
and eventually wives; and you are being raised to know what to expect from a man,
as well as how to treat your future partner. I know that everything I described I
was not, but only a person that has been through hell can accurately tell you how
hot it is…

I’m writing this letter to let you know Isis…to let you know…

Saint paused, feeling a burning in his eyes; only this time, his corneas were not
changing colors.

“…It’s okay, Saint… This letter is beautiful. Take a breath and keep going, baby…”
Xenia encouraged.

“Uhhh…Oh God!” he wailed. His muscles tensed as he bawled uncontrollably. His body
drew together like a shrinking shadow while he brought his knees up to his chin, the
letter in his twisted grip. The pain was unbearable. He felt the disappointment and
the words stung—hurt worse than a swift kick to the gut. All of those women he bedded…all
of them were, at one point in time, someone’s ‘Isis’…

He quickly wiped his nose and continued, the tears blurring his vision, but he pushed
through.

“…To let you know that if a man is like how I was, please run. Do not look back,”
he choked out, as if he were actually standing before her, letting the wall of shame
come crashing down so he could be straightforward with the girl. “Do not pause, do
not second-guess it. Run like your life depends on it. Isis, I was not a good person.
I had good qualities, but they were drowned out by my philandering and risky behavior.
Some men are rather proud of that sort of past. I was at the time, too. I didn’t find
anything wrong with it. I chalked it up to two consenting adults engaging in sexual
activity. I believed we both got what we wanted, but we actually didn’t, Isis.

I wasn’t fulfilled because a high eventually goes away and then you are out looking
for your next hit. The woman wasn’t satisfied because many times I’d never call her
again…and if I did, those were usually the women that were just as messed up as I
was. I would contact women for a second, third and fourth helping, for one reason
and one reason only. This, no doubt, made whoever I was victimizing that particular
day feel used…because she in fact had been. Isis, I was disingenuous. I used women
to make myself feel better. I destroyed their trust; I broke them down and violated
their minds, bodies and souls. I assumed because I never pretended to be their man.
I was honest about what I wanted, believing that was enough.

It wasn’t. You are old enough now for me to explain all of this to you. Having sex,
making love, honey, is a spiritual experience. It isn’t just physical. When you give
your body to someone, you are connecting with them and giving that person a piece
of yourself that you will never get back. If it is with the right person, it won’t
matter that they have it because you two will be as one, anyway. But if you give it
to the wrong person, there could be painful repercussions. I know you are empathic.
You feel things very deeply; this makes you even more susceptible to being hurt by
such a person. I am not trying to scare you, Princess. I don’t use scare tactics to
get my children to do my bidding. The truth is frightening enough.

No, what I am doing is being candid and offering you honesty, so that you may use
it as an umbrella to help shield yourself from such situations. You are precious,
Isis. From the top of your head to the bottom of your feet, you are a coveted and
royal entity, a Diamond. Diamonds need special care, and they cannot receive it from
a person who treats them as if they are cubic zirconia or some bubble gum ball prize
piece of jewelry made of plastic. You need protection from the type of person I used
to be, so that you may be with the sort of man I have become today…

“Yes…” he heard Xenia whisper in agreement. Though she only uttered one word, stated
so softly he almost missed it, she wrapped that word in a blanket of sentiment. “That’s
right, baby,” she added, giving him a hug through the phone, encouraging him, pushing
him forward and out into the forefront.

I will be real with you, too, Isis,
he continued to read.

I know you may not listen to everything I say. I know you may not listen to anything
I’ve said in this letter either, but at least I tried—at least I wrote it out. Isis,
I know how guys are because I am one. I know what we do to get what we want, and I
know how we look and feel when we are genuinely in love and care for a woman. I know
what we do and say when we want to be a good partner to our mate. I know all of this
because of your mother, Xenia. I am now aware what it feels like to be in love, and
to receive that love back, tenfold. What it feels like to make love, versus just have
sex. Or what it means to miss someone with every bone in your body when they are away.
And that leads me to what I promised to discuss earlier in this letter—that love story
regarding your mother and me…

He cleared his throat, gearing up to go down yet another emotional road.

When I saw your mother for the first time, I immediately knew she was to be my wife.
I believe most people cannot determine something like that. Before I met your mother,
I’d heard of love at first sight, and though I didn’t personally conclude it impossible,
I didn’t believe it was a common enough occurrence to stack any logistics and testing
to. I could not confirm or deny its existence until I looked into your mother’s eyes.
The very first time I stood in the radio studio where she worked, I could already
envision how that woman and I were going to have some hurdles. Because once it became
clear in my mind and heart who she was to be for me, her destiny in my life, I had
no doubt I was dealing with someone who would not initially come to me willingly.

Isis, your mother did not originally take to me. Matter of fact, she was determined
to never deal with me again. You see, we had a rough start. Our first interaction
happened in the form of a rather serious off-air argument. It involved all sorts of
angry outbursts, low-blows and verbal attacks. Of course, that is not the ideal way
to begin with someone, but it is part of our history, and in retrospect, I believe
it was completely necessary.

Your mother has her own background and I have mine, and that initially didn’t mesh
well. But, deep down, your mother knew who I was as well. She realized this after
that first meeting; despite how she convinced herself that I was the worse person
in the world, deep in her heart, she determined I was coming for her, and I wasn’t
going
to stop until she gave me a chance. I just needed her to let me take her out on a
date because I knew emphatically, without a shadow of a doubt, that Xenia Donnellson
was to be mine.

She is the first woman that made me feel like I was just going to fall to pieces if
I couldn’t get her. She is the only woman I’ve ever been in love with, Princess. I’ve
cared for women, I’ve loved some women, but I was not in love with any of them—
and there is a difference. With your mother, I experience all of these emotions simultaneously.
I want for someone to feel that way about you too, Isis. You deserve a man who will
wait for you if you are not ready to make love. You deserve a man who is patient and
kind to you. You deserve a man who will not purposefully impregnate you without a
ring and a wedding.