The Side Effects of You (25 page)

Although I thought house hunting wasn't necessary, since my daughter had been laid to rest, my fiancé thought it was what we needed. He'd said that we didn't have to live in a hotel, that we needed our own space, so I'd agreed to go and look.

After we saw three houses, I was ready to go home, but I stuck it out. I was glad I did. House number four was it. It had five bedrooms, four baths, a finished basement, a beautiful deck, gorgeous landscaping, and a pool. Swimming was something Angelica loved, and I didn't want to leave the hotel, because of the pool. She was a human fish. She spent a lot of time in the pool when the weather was warm. But even if the house came without a pool, it was perfect. It had been remodeled and upgraded with all the modern touches I desired. And the kitchen . . . Oh, my Lord, the kitchen was fantastic.

Jay and I hung around, looking at each room for the third time, talking about all the meals we'd prepare in the kitchen together. We decided right then and there that we wanted to make an offer.

“Jay, I love this house, but my name cannot go on it. I've destroyed my credit, babe, and if you attempt to run my Social Security number, it will ruin our chances.” I confessed this because I didn't want any secrets.

“Josie, I'm buying me and my family a house. I've never asked about your financial status, because I can take on the responsibility of a family. I don't care if you save your checks or quit your job. We can get your credit back on track, so I'm not worried. As far as food, shelter, clothing, and utilities are concerned, I will take care of that. You can shop for you and Angelica with your checks, as far as I'm concerned. I will managed the house.”

“It's just so much to ask, Jay, and I feel funny. I know I shouldn't, but I've never had a man take care of me. I have twenty grand left over from Ana's policy. It's yours. I'd be happy to give it all to you for a down payment for this house.”

He chuckled. “Baby, you set that aside. I don't need it. I'm not a millionaire, but I'm okay. If you want this house, just say it.”

I hesitated and looked around. The house was perfect. Master on the main floor, a guest suite and bathroom, and a loft area upstairs, a finished basement, a pool, and Angelica's bedroom would be bigger than my master at the hotel.

I smiled. “I want this house, baby. I love this house. It is perfect. I can't wait to cook in this gorgeous kitchen.”

“Well, it's yours,” he said.

He went outside to speak with the Realtor. The house was listed at 420 grand, and he put in an offer for four hundred, with all closing costs included. Two days later we got a counteroffer of 405, closing costs included. We accepted.

“Baby, we got a house!” I screamed.

He shared in my excitement. “We got a house. Now we need to head downtown and change your last name.”

I froze. “Huh? Now? You want to get married now? I want a wedding, Jay. I went to city hall with José.”

“We can have a wedding, a fabulous one at the house, if you'd like, but I don't want to move into our home being just your fiancé.”

I let out a deep breath. “I don't want to go not being your wife, either, so let's do it.”

We went to get a marriage license and found out that we had to wait twenty-four hours after we submitted the initial paperwork. I was sort of glad, because I really wanted Angelica to be there. The next day, we took her out of school and went to exchange vows.

Once married, we went to Sammie's to celebrate. I shared my good news with Sam, and she shared hers with me. I was married to the man of my dreams, I was moving into my first house, and the side effects of José and Ana seemed like a distant memory.

I pulled up to the house and was grateful the reporters were gone. Still, I was sure there was someone out there taking his or her job a little too seriously, lurking in the bushes, so I used my garage-door opener and drove into the garage. I gave less than a nickel for what Jeremiah had to say, but I did hope to hear him say I could have my kids. I got out of the car and went inside. The house was still—no movement, no sounds—so I walked slowly into the family room.

“Jeremiah?” I called out. I heard nothing. All four of his vehicles were there, and I knew he hadn't asked me over only to be gone. “Jeremiah?” I called out again, a little louder. This time, I heard his voice.

“In here,” he called from his bedroom.

I headed in that direction and stopped at his open doorway. Nervous and shaking, I stood there. My mouth was dry, and I wished I had stopped for water before I went to his room.

“You wanted to talk to me?” I said nervously, my hands trembling. I was in no mood to fight, and I prayed for God to protect me, because Jeremiah liked putting his hands on me. I knew he was in a bad place, and I prayed he wouldn't beat my ass or choke the life out of me.

“Yeah.” He sniffled. He was sitting on his bed. “I wanted to settle up.”

Confused, I said, “Jeremiah, what are you talking about? You don't owe me a thing.”

“I do,” he said and scratched his head with a gun.

Stunned at the sight of it, I said, “Jeremiah, please put that away. You know I'm terrified of guns.” I didn't know what his state of mind was, and I feared he wanted to kill me. Tears formed in my eyes. “Please, Jeremiah, don't hurt me,” I begged. “I have four kids to raise. Don't do this to me. I can't leave my babies.”

“Relax, Ann!” he yelled. “I'm not going to hurt you. Our children need you. I would never do that to them.” He got up and paced. “I'm fucked up right now, Ann. I can't bounce back from this. There isn't a number amount that I can write on a check to make thousands of members not see what they saw. My baby, my firstborn, betrayed me. She set her fancy little gadget—which you bought her, I might add—to record me and Franklin doing our business. She exposed her father, Ann!” he roared.

“Jeremiah, please put that gun away. We can get through this. All is not lost. God forgives. You know that. This gun thing is not how He wants us to handle things,” I whispered.

“I won't put the gun away. God has a special place in hell reserved for my soul. You were a good wife, a good woman, but I couldn't love you the way Christ loves the church. Even though I know you wanted to, you never turned me on.”

He continued to pace. “I lay with you and fucked you only because that was what I was supposed to do. I've never been attracted to you, Ann, and I detested making love to you. Touching your body, sucking your tits, made my stomach turn. Yes, a nut felt good. I mean, I see why Quentin loves you. Your pussy was good. But I fucked you while thinking about a man's asshole, darling. When you gave me head, I used to imagine you were Denzel or Morris, you know, those niggas you and the girls at the salon blush over.

“I've been gay since I was fourteen, Ann, but I had to be a preacher's kid, had to follow in my righteous father's footsteps. I tried to suppress these feelings, but I'm bound for hell either way.” He sniffled and put the gun to his head.

I slid down onto my knees. “Jeremiah, you still have me and our children. If you lose everything, we will still love you and will be here for you. Don't do this. Hell is your home if you take your life. As a man of God, you know this. But if you repent and ask our Savior to help you, He will. God is not ready to toss your soul into the pit, but if you pull that trigger, you leave Him no choice. You can be forgiven for this, Jeremiah, God is a good and long-suffering God. You have been evil to me, but I forgive you, Jeremiah. Baby, I forgive you. I will be by your side every step of the way. Don't let Satan trip you up. You've always preached that, Jeremiah, so you've got to believe it.”

I was terrified. He continued to pace, and I had no idea what his next move would be. I began to sing. With a tear-filled face, I sang Marvin Sapp's “Grace and Mercy.” That had once been Jeremiah's theme song, the song he played over and over again, the one he beckoned me to sing so many times, because he said I had the voice of an angel.

Finally, he stopped pacing. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and I got to my feet, continuing my song. I went from a soft voice to a powerful voice when I sang, “
You see, I'm not what I want to be, but I'm not what I used to be, since He cleansed and made me whole
.”

I reached for his hand, begging my God to let him give me the gun.

In a voice barely loud enough for me to hear, Jeremiah said, “Heaven has no room for faggots.” Then he pulled the trigger.

His body hit the floor, and blood and brain fragments sprayed the bed. I was paralyzed. My heart raced, and I took quick, short breaths. My phone, which I gripped in my hand, just in case I had to call Quentin, rang at that exact moment. When I saw Sam's number, I answered. I didn't know what to do.

I was too scared to move. I told her to come quickly to the house I once shared with Jeremiah. “He, he, he, ... just come now please!” I was in the same spot, two inches away from him, when the paramedics rushed in. They told me later that they found me by the sounds of my sobs. I cried for him. I wailed for his soul, because I believed what I'd been taught about heaven and hell. I knew there were some who didn't believe, some who had a different belief, but from what I believed in my heart and soul, my children's father's final resting place would be in the pits of hell.

His body lay there, his lifeless eyes open, blood and flesh everywhere. The image was embedded in my mind. It was all I could see.

“Come on. We got you,” Sam said as she and Josie helped me from the floor and led me to the kitchen. I was hysterical and was crying uncontrollably.

The police rushed in, and I heard Josie say, “He's in the bedroom on the lower level. That way.”

As it turned out, there was no need for the paramedics. He was already dead. I started to hyperventilate, and the EMTs rushed into the kitchen to help me. They gave me oxygen, and I felt a prick in my hand.

“She witnessed the entire thing,” I heard Sam say before everything went black.

I woke up in the back of the ambulance, and Quentin's was the first face I saw. “Oh, baby,” I said and began to sob in his arms.

“Shhh, baby. Calm down. It's okay. You are okay. You are fine.”

“Is he gone? Did it really happen? Did Jeremiah. . . ?” I hoped I hadn't really witnessed that horrific scene.

“Baby, it's okay.” He held me.

“No, no, no, no. Did he? Is he dead? Please tell me that he's okay,” I demanded.

“Drea, he is gone, baby.”

I sobbed harder. I didn't cry for him; I cried for my children and for myself. That sight had been horrific. I didn't need that in my memory, and I hated him for choosing me to witness his suicide.

“My kids, my kids. Oh, God, my kids.”

“It's going to be all right, baby.” Quentin continued to hold me.

* * *

I thought that all would be good after that, but the controversy started. Accusations, dragging my family's name through the mud, and harassing my children. We had to put them in private school. Since Jeremiah had never changed his will after our divorce, everything was still slated to go to me. Lawyers worked rapidly on my behalf to settle our assets, and I sold the church. With the profits, I gave my children over twelve million dollars, and I set all of them, including Quintana, up with a trust fund. She wasn't Jeremiah's, but I'd been through enough to give her a portion.

It took a good seven months for the scandal of our lives to die down, and I thanked God that the publicity generated by it increased business and profits for my salon. By the time Quin was one, I was pregnant with my fifth kid. Things were finally starting to feel normal.

Kelly had exposed Jeremiah. I guessed she needed to be free of him too. I had been through it all because of the side effects of Jeremiah, but I was grateful that God had seen the best in me, my husband, and my children to allow us to move on and forget our tragic life with Pastor Young.

We were at my new house and were holding Sam's baby shower. She had wanted to wait until after he was here and healthy, so we were celebrating his birth.

“Gather around everyone. Gather around,” I said, tapping a glass. “We are ready to open the gifts, but I have an announcement. We have another pregnant woman here. Well, make that two.”

Everyone started whispering.

I went on. “Andrea and . . .” This got Jayden's attention. “I am also pregnant, so in seven months, we will be right back here, doing the same thing for Jayden and me.”

This was the first time Jayden had heard the news. He scooped me up in his arms and kissed me. Everyone applauded. I was happy. I had lost a child, and for a long time, I had thought I wouldn't be able to get over it, but God had had mercy on me, and each day had got easier.

For a while, Andrea had had nightmares about Jeremiah's final moments, but, thank God, they'd gone away. Andrea had her children and the man of her dreams, and she was happy.

Sam had finally shared with me her secret concerning why she and Charles had divorced. What mattered was that they were stronger than ever now and they were happy.

Jayden was heaven sent and helped me get through the most difficult time of my life. I was happy. Angelica was still a superstar student, but now, at seventeen, close to eighteen, she had her first boyfriend. Jayden and I were both relieved that he was just as much of a nerd as she was.

I missed my Ana every day, but every now and again, God gave me a nice dream so I could spend time with her, and for that, I was grateful.

We all experienced the side effects of prior relationships and fucked-up situations, but for every side effect, there was a remedy. Jayden, Angelica, and my new baby girl, Analicia, were mine. Charles, Charlie, and Charles Jr. were Sam's. Lastly, Quentin, Kelly, Lena, J.J. Quintana, and Quentin Jr. were Andrea's. We all went through a lot to earn a lot, and we lived the rest of our lives in peace and in happiness.

 

The End!