Your Love Is King (3 page)

“I don’t like him, but he’s Tiffany’s father, and I know he’d never harm her. I can’t say that for whatever thug you’re hanging around with.”

“Why do I have to be with a thug?” I asked. Yeah, Darius was a thug, but he didn’t know that for sure.

“Because who else would want you? Look at you,” he said with a straight face.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, I said, “Wow, okay. Um, thanks for dinner. I think I’ll be leaving now.” I turned to Tiffany who looked absolutely livid. “Tiff, you can get your gift or whatever. I’ll be waiting in the car.”

I excused myself from the table and headed out to the car that had been a sweet sixteen gift to Tiffany from my father. I slid into the passenger’s seat and as hard as I fought, lost the battle with my tears. After a few minutes, Tiffany and her gift—a huge check—arrived, and we headed back home. All the while, I wished I could just run away.

Three

“Fear”

Sunday morning, I decided to go to church with Tiffany. While she rarely missed a Sunday, it was sometimes difficult for me to attend due to my work schedule. So when I happened to be off, I tried to take advantage of the opportunity. I woke up early, fixed us a light breakfast, and poured my body into a pair of black slacks and a white blouse. I picked out my short afro and pulled on a pair of black flats which, along with a pair of silver hoop earrings, completed the outfit. I felt good as we headed out to church.

We pulled onto the lot and a smile spread across my face. There was nothing like seeing everyone stepping out in their Sunday best. The women in their dress-suits and flamboyant matching hats, the men in their nice suits, complete with tie and freshly shined shoes, and the little girls in ruffles and bows, signaled that it was definitely Sunday and it was definitely time for church. I’d been attending Bayou Chapel Missionary Baptist Church since I was a little girl, and it was home to me. Honestly, I couldn’t see myself anywhere else.

I parked my car in my usual spot, on the right side of the church, and walked into the sanctuary. I took a seat on my regular pew, the next-to-the-last one to the right of the pulpit. From that seat, I had a full view of both the pastor and the choir. And no one would want to miss the choir. They always
threw down
!

I took a deep breath and released it as I settled into my seat and looked over the bulletin.  I was glad to be at church, but I knew I’d need to say a special prayer. There was a lot going through my mind—more than I cared to admit—and I needed to think and mull it all over.

It wasn’t long before the music began, signaling the start of worship service. I stood to my feet, clapped my hands, and swayed to the music. The opening song was one of my favorites, “If I Be Lifted Up.” I smiled and sang along with the choir, although I couldn’t carry a tune even if my life depended on it.

Worship service lasted the usual two hours, following the strict schedule of praise and worship, devotion, announcements, more music, offering, sermon, and invitation to discipleship. All in all, it was a good service, and I left there feeling very refreshed.

Afterward, Tiffany and I headed to my mom’s house. She and her second husband attended Bayou Baptist, too, but hadn’t made it to church on this particular Sunday. We were to have dinner with them as we did most Sundays after church.

On the way there, Tiffany decided to bring up our disastrous dinner with my father.

“Mom, are you okay? I mean, after yesterday?” she asked. I glanced at her and could see the concern written all over her face.

“I’m fine. I’m used to it,” I answered with a shrug.

“I know, but I hate it when he talks to you like that. I don’t know how you can take it. It burns me up!”

“Yeah… well, that’s the nature of our relationship. I’ve disappointed him in a lot of ways, and he’s not ever gonna to let me forget it. I just try to make my interactions with him few and far between.”

“Yeah, and now, with me graduating, you’re having to see him more often. I’m sorry.”

I looked over at her and shook my head. “It’s not your fault. I think you’re the one thing he believes I got right. Anyway, let’s just try to enjoy dinner with Mama. Don’t worry about it.”

Tiffany nodded in response, and a few minutes later, we arrived at my mother’s house. My mother lived in a home a little larger than mine on the opposite side of town. It was the second home that she and my father purchased together during their marriage. The one I lived in was their starter home.

I knocked and waited until my mother finally opened the door. She was wearing a flowing, red-print caftan which almost disguised the extra weight she was carrying. On her head, she wore a matching scarf. In her hand was her usual dinnertime glass of wine. Edna, or
Professor
Edna Gray, as she preferred to be called, hugged us and then led us into her overly decorated living room. My mother was a collector of many things, including all types of décor.

Fred, her husband, smiled and greeted me and Tiffany with a boisterous, “There they are! How y’all doing?”

Tiffany and I responded with a chorus of, “Hey, Mr. Freddie.”

We sat and talked with Fred, who was always good for a friendly conversation, until Mama announced that dinner was ready. Now, don’t get it twisted, my mother does
not
cook. Never has. I actually grew up on hamburgers and fried chicken—a fact that would explain my weight issues. So dinner was catered by Bill’s Fried Chicken, a local favorite.

Bill’s was true to the words of its slogan: “So Good, You’ll Think Grandma Made It.” Sunday’s dinner with Mama was much more relaxed than Saturday’s dinner with my dad, but true to form, Mama eventually let the liquor take over her inhibitions and her true feelings about me began to surface.

“So, Marlena Marie,” she slurred. “Whatcha been up to? Got a new man?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that question. Mama knew about Darius and had even met him once. She didn’t approve of him, of course, but in her mind, any man was better than no man at all.

“Um, no,” I answered.

Her mouth spread into a knowing smirk. “Mm-hmm. Still with that little thug boy, huh?”

I sighed. “I’m still seeing Darius, if that’s who you’re referring to.”

She shook her head. “Well, I guess if you can’t do any better. I’ve never had that problem,
as you know
. Always had good, hard-working men in my life.” She reached over and patted Fred on the arm. “You’ve gotta lose that weight, baby girl. Your choices are just so limited by your size. When I was your age, I was a perfect ten,” she said and then took a bite out of a chicken leg.

Now, that was a lie. I’d seen pictures of my mother taken when she was my age. She might not have been as heavy as I was, but she was no ten.  I knew if I tried to argue the fact with her, she’d say I was disrespecting her. So I held my tongue.

“Now, Edna, leave her alone,” Fred said.

She held a hand up at him. “Hush, Fred.” She turned to me and continued. “It’s the truth. Look at Tiffany. She’s beautiful and she’ll have no trouble finding a good husband. You shoulda just stayed with Tim. At least he had a good job.”

I dropped my head and stared at my plate for a moment. I guess it had slipped her mind that Tim actually left
me
, not the other way around. I drew in a breath and exhaled. “Mama, I respect your opinion, but I’m fine, really. I’m not worried about having a man.”

“Mm-hmm. That’s what everyone who doesn’t have a man says. But I’m here to tell you.
You
need a man.”

That was all I could take, because I knew things were only going downhill from there. I knew my mother too well. She was
always
right in her own mind, and she
always
got the last word.

I placed my napkin on the table. “Well, I guess this is just the weekend for me to leave the table early. I think I’ll excuse myself now.”  

I stood to leave, but as I made my way toward the dining room entrance, she spoke again. “And by the way, if you’re ever gonna get married again, you’re gonna have to raise your standards. That thug just will not do. I mean, he’s okay for a good time, but he won’t be eating at
my
table.”

I sighed. “Mama, who said anything about marrying him? Who said I
ever
want to get married again?” I shook my head and tried to leave the room before she could answer. I wasn’t fast enough.

“Well, I guess he’s better than nothing. At least with Tiff off at college you don’t have to worry about him molesting her,” Mama said.

Tiffany gasped.

I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at my mother. “What are you talking about? I’ve never been worried about that. He’s never even been alone with her.”

Mama smirked. “Well, you
should’ve
been worried. Now, I’m the one who didn’t have to worry about anything like that when I was dating after
my
divorce. After all, you
never
looked like Tiff. Who was going to molest a fat girl?”

I stood frozen for a moment. Had she really just basically said I was too unattractive to be molested? What did that even mean? Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

At a total and complete loss for words, I turned and walked out of the house. Once inside my car, I cranked the engine and blasted the music on my radio to drown out the echo of my mother’s words in my head. There were times when I came as close as one could get to despising my parents. This was one of those times.

As the music began to calm me, I sat and waited for Tiffany. She knew the drill. We’d been through this several times. She’d say her goodbyes and then join me in the car where she knew I’d be waiting for her.            

I closed my eyes, tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, and nodded my head to an old En Vogue song and pretty soon, she did just as I expected, but this time, Fred was right behind her. As Tiffany climbed into the passenger’s seat, Fred leaned over and tapped on my window.

I rolled the window down and looked up at him. “Yes, sir?”

“Hey, Marli. Now you know your Mama didn’t mean all that stuff she said. That was just the liquor talking,” he said in his usual calm, gentle voice.

I shook my head. “It’s okay. I’m used to it. You don’t have to try to make me feel better. I know exactly how both of my parents feel about me. I always have. I just wish they wouldn’t say that stuff in front of my child.”

He reached inside the car and patted my hand. “Now, don’t you get down on yourself. You’re a good person, an angel. Tiffany knows that. Don’t let anyone tell you any different, not even your mama and daddy. And remember, God loves you. To Him, you are absolutely perfect.”

I offered him a weak smile and a nod. “Okay, thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

He smiled and backed away from the car, allowing me to leave the driveway. I rode in silence, contemplating the events of the weekend and wishing there was something I could do to change things. But I just couldn’t see how things could, or would, ever change for me.

~*~

Monday night was an especially grueling one at the hospital. As the only RN on the unit that night, I was assigned as charge nurse by default, making me responsible for the care of all twenty-four patients on the floor, six of whom I cared for directly with the other eighteen split amongst three LPNs. It took me forever to complete and then chart assessments on all of the patients and after that, I had to pass meds and take care of any wound care that was ordered. By midnight, I was already exhausted—a fact that I shared with Carla. But that didn’t keep her from visiting my unit on her break.

“Shouldn’t you be in your area?” I asked as she took a seat next to me at the nurses’ station.

Carla gave me an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Girl,
please
. That’s why they gave me this tracking device.” She held up her locator badge. “Anyway, I’m entitled to two breaks and a lunch per shift. This is break number two.”