Doin' Me (3 page)

Praise service was always a spirited event at Restoration Ministries, but on first Sundays parishioners elevated the praise to another level, maybe because first Sunday was also Communion day. Tyson enjoyed the praise, but what had drawn him to Restoration Ministries was Pastor Drake's teaching. His method had catapulted Tyson from a place of stagnation and had ignited an internal thirst for the Word that Tyson couldn't quench. One service and Tyson could no longer sit under Pastor Rosalie Jennings's leadership.

Today, however, Tyson found it difficult to concentrate on Pastor Drake's sermon about unconditional love. Two days ago he'd thought he could one day love Reyna, but then she'd embarrassed him and bruised his ego in front of his friends. If the X-rated dance scene wasn't enough, she'd chosen to spend the night with a stranger, probably the man from the dance floor. He knew that because he had stopped by the Claremont Hotel Saturday morning to retrieve the Salvatore Ferragamo coat he'd left and had seen her car in the parking lot. It didn't take a genius to know they weren't dancing vertically all night.

Tyson wasn't blind, and naïveté wasn't his weakness. He and Reyna were traveling on a path, but not the same one. Perhaps he should have shared his feelings with her, but after Friday night he doubted it would have mattered. Reyna didn't want him, plain and simple. Besides, she couldn't fit into his life, harboring so much resentment toward God and church. He'd encouraged her to seek counseling from Pastor Drake, but she'd refused. He had even offered to pay for a private practice Christian therapist. To show her gratitude, she'd cursed him out. Thinking back now, he realized he should have ended his bland romantic pursuit then. But something in Reyna endeared her to him—something special that no one saw but him.

“Unconditional love doesn't dwell on what someone has done to us,” Pastor Drake was saying. “It does not bring up someone's past when they wrong us. Unconditional love forgives even if the person never asks for forgiveness.”

Pastor Drake's words helped Tyson understand that the feelings he held for Reyna weren't budding love. He cared for her, but after the stunt on Friday, he no longer liked her. At least that was what his head kept telling his heart. Until she apologized, he had nothing to say to her.

Tyson closed his Bible and ignored the still small voice. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't do that. Love, as he knew it, came with conditions. Love was a prize given for doing the right thing, all the time. When he was a child, his parents' love was predicated on his absolute adherence to their rules. If he scored the top in his class, Fredrick and Beverly Stokes showered him with time and attention, but when the grades slipped, they heaped coals of criticism and derogatory comments on him.

His father, a criminal judge, rationed affirmation in the same manner he rendered justice from the bench— firm and precise. If a defendant was found guilty of breaking the law, sentencing came swiftly and without mercy. Now that Reyna had betrayed him, Tyson had sentenced her in the same manner.

Although Tyson was a no-nonsense lawyer, his rearing had made it easy for him to sit under Pastor Rosalie Jennings's controlling and condemning style of leadership for five years. Subconsciously, he'd simply traded one dictator for another.

“Love is patient. Love is kind . . .” Pastor Drake expounded on what church folks referred to as the love chapter: I Corinthians 13.

“No.” Tyson hadn't meant to speak the words audibly, but the voice pierced his eardrums. “I can't do that.”

Kevin nudged him. “You can't do what?”

Tyson turned to the left and found not only Kevin and Marlissa, but also Leon and Starla, staring at him. When Tyson didn't respond, the group turned their attention back to Pastor Drake's sermon. Tyson closed his eyes and bowed his head. He remained that way until the benediction.

“Tyson, son, wait up.” If he'd known Mother Scott would accost him after service, Tyson would have left during the altar call. Leon's mother, the prayer warrior, at times could be a little rough around the edges. She loved Jesus and could pray the kingdom down, but she hadn't perfected the scripture about studying to be quiet. She also had a gift for seeing deeper than the natural eye.

Tyson stopped, pasted on a smile, and turned around. “Hello, Mother Scott.”

The walk from across the sanctuary had left the petite woman winded. She placed her hand on Tyson's shoulder for support. “How's my favorite free lawyer doing?”

“I'm fine, Mother.”

Mother Scott cocked her head to the side. “Baby, stop lying in the house of the Lord.”

“Mother—”

Mother Scott cut him off with a revelation of her own. “You tell that lie every time I ask you. You're not fine. You're in love, but you're too stubborn to
give
love.”

Being lost for words wasn't a common occurrence for Tyson. He'd presented opening and closing arguments with ease, but Mother Scott left him tongue-tied.

She patted Tyson's stomach. “You need to push that plate back and pray until God delivers you. And a healing from your childhood wouldn't hurt, either.”

“B—b—but, Mother,” Tyson stuttered, “I never told you about my childhood.”

The innocent smile that appeared would make one think Mother Scott was gentle as a dove, but Tyson knew better.

“Baby, don't you know I can see? Since Kevin fixed my natural eyesight, my spiritual discernment is double twenty-twenty. I see right through you. You love the Lord, but you need to practice what you read about in the big black Bible underneath your arm.” Then Mother Scott served the benediction. “I'll see you later. I need to go lay hands on Marlissa's and Starla's stomachs. Those babies are future prayer warriors.”

For the second time in three days, a woman left Tyson standing with his mouth hanging open.

Shivering, cold, and more humiliated than the night she'd been arrested, Reyna stepped barefoot into the foyer at her mother's house. To add insult to injury, the unpredictable California October weather had dropped twenty degrees. If her arms weren't sore from the awkward positions Chase—if that was even his real name—had twisted her into, she would have slapped herself for not taking her coat. She wouldn't have minded the cold air as much if the disdainful stares she received as she walked through the Claremont Hotel hadn't reminded her of how foolish she'd been. The hotel's Sunday morning guests were more conservative than the Friday night private party crowd. During daylight hours people with her clothing attire weren't allowed. When a hotel employee approached her with a security officer in tow, Reyna had removed her shoes, had tucked them beneath her arm, and had run through the lobby, out of the hotel, and into the parking lot to her car. Once inside it, she'd leaned her head on the steering wheel and wept.

Hot tears had burned her cheeks as she sped down Ashby Avenue en route to her mother's house of judgment. While waiting at a stoplight on Martin Luther King Jr. Way, she stopped crying long enough to spit profanities at the church building on the corner. She'd never been inside of the stucco building; neither did she know anyone affiliated with the house of worship. None of that mattered. Her dysfunctional life was the result of a self-centered God. In her opinion, God was a controller and a user. He demanded all of your time and bombarded you with rules and regulations with no reward.

Her tires screeched as she entered the next intersection. She'd made a mistake this time around, but she would never step foot inside a church again. Not even a park service. She would continue on her self-discovery journey without the help of a narcissistic God.

Now, as she stood in the foyer with chattering teeth, Reyna had to figure out how to escape to the confines of her room without running into her mother. It was 8:00
A.M
., and Jewel was probably in her prayer closet, interceding for Sunday worship service. If Reyna wanted to avoid a tongue-lashing for staying away all weekend, she'd have to hurry. With shoes in hand, she scurried across the hardwood floor.

Reyna hadn't made it halfway down the hall when Jewel yelled, “Where have you been?”

Reyna froze. She hadn't thought about how to answer that question without disclosing her weekend tryst.

“How dare you sneak into this house, wearing the same clothes you had on two days ago?” The creaking floor indicated Jewel was walking toward her. Before Reyna could turn around, Jewel's hot breath burned her neck. Jewel sniffed. “You whore! You had me worried sick about you, and you have the nerve to creep up in here smelling like sex!”

Reyna's shoulders slumped, and she cowered momentarily. Not wanting to spend a second longer at the hotel, she'd opted not to shower that morning. Suddenly, an adrenaline rush of pride raged like hot coals through her veins. Her fists unclenched, and her stilettos made an echo when they clanged against the floor. Without warning, she spun around and glowered at her mother.

Jewel looked as if she'd aged. Her eyes were puffy and sunken. The usual red silk head scarf was gone. Instead her hair hung loosely. Jewel had said she slept in the red scarf to symbolize the blood of Jesus keeping her unconscious thoughts pure. For years Reyna had wanted to tell her to try some red lipstick to keep her mouth pure.

Reyna stepped forward and met Jewel's glare. Today she would finally set this woman straight. “If you'd had half the sex I had this weekend with Daddy, he wouldn't have left you.” She braced herself for Jewel's right palm print across her face, but Jewel didn't utter a word or react. Reyna counted the silence as a victory and proceeded to pour alcohol on Jewel's wounds.

“I am sick and tired of you calling me names. If I'm a whore, then you and Rosalie Jennings made me one.” She pointed at Jewel. “It's your fault I wasted my life trying to serve some imaginary God. I needed a mother and a friend, but all you've ever been to me is some sort of religious police. Where were your sanctimonious convictions when you agreed to send me after a married man?” Reyna paused for an answer. Still nothing. “You knew Kevin didn't want me, and if you'd been a better mother, you would have recognized that I didn't want him, either. I was just trying to please you and our beloved pastor.” Reyna added several four-letter words for emphasis.

“No one warned me that what I was doing was wrong,” Reyna lied. Tyson had warned Reyna several times, but Jewel didn't need to know that. The fact remained that Jewel had played a hand in her humiliation. “If my father was around, none of this would have happened. Like him, I can't wait to get away from you.”

Jewel finally found her voice, although it sounded more timid than Reyna ever remembered. “I think that's a good idea. You're a grown woman—too grown to live with a controlling and callous mother.” Jewel turned and started down the hall to her bedroom. Before turning the corner, she gave Reyna final instructions. “Leave your key and a forwarding address on the table when you leave.” Then she disappeared.

If Reyna didn't know any better, she'd swear she'd seen a tear slide down her mother's cheek. It didn't matter, anyway. Not only was Reyna free of her mother's control, but also the anger she'd failed to direct at Chase had been successfully transferred to her mother. She felt light and relieved to have her freedom papers. She vowed right then that once she moved out, she'd never step foot in her mother's residence again.

 

 

Twenty-eight hours later, seated behind her desk at work, Reyna regretted cursing at her mother. At the time the disrespectful words rolled off her tongue, Reyna had forgotten she didn't have enough credit or employment history to lease an apartment on her own. The salary she'd received at her former church had been paid under the table, and the job description was simply catering to Pastor Jennings's needs. The current property management job was only two months old. An expletive slipped from her lips as she resigned herself to the fact that she'd have to ask her mother to cosign for the lease.

She folded her arms and slouched back in the faux leather wheeled chair. Mist seeped from her eyes as she took in her surroundings, her small workstation, and wondered, How did I get here?

She'd had dreams of being a family therapist. After experiencing the pain of a broken family, Reyna had wanted to help families solve problems and stay together. But she'd allowed that dream to die after Pastor Jennings insisted the Lord had spoken to her and wanted Reyna to work as her assistant at the church. At the time she'd readily agreed and dropped out of school just one year shy of completing her master's degree. Whenever Reyna had mentioned finishing school, her mother and Pastor Jennings would ambush her and coerce her into working for the ministry.

Reyna closed her eyes, leaned her head back, wondering when her common sense had vacated the building and left her dependent on others, like her mother and Tyson, to meet her basic needs.

Abruptly, Reyna sat forward, put her elbows on the desk, and voiced her thoughts. “Good old Tyson, he'll sign the lease for me. He just loves helping me out.” Her lower lip curled. “Of course, I'll have to apologize for dissin' him the other night.”

“What was that?”

The low monotone voice interrupted the conversation Reyna was having with herself and instantly set her on edge. Her boss had always had that effect on her. Paige was all about business all the time. Although the office hours were nine to five, Paige boasted that she arrived at seven every morning. For what, Reyna didn't know and didn't care to find out. When agents shared family photos and stories, Paige bragged about maintaining a prosperous real estate company during the housing slump, when most real estate companies were folding.

Reyna turned and faced her boss. Today, like every day, Paige was dressed in a black pantsuit, a white-collared blouse, and two-inch black sling-backs. Even without makeup and dressed starkly, the espresso-colored woman was beautiful. Reyna attributed Paige's singleness to her devotion to her job. In the short time Reyna had been with the company, more than a few admirers had appeared, but if the conversation didn't evolve around opening or closing an escrow, Paige would quickly dismiss them. Reyna would do just about anything to trade places with Paige.

Reyna pasted on a smile and gathered her thoughts. “Don't mind me. I was just thinking out loud.”

A rare smile appeared on Paige's face. “It's okay to have thoughts of Tyson. He's a good man with a great work ethic, but don't let that interfere with your work.” At rapid speed the smile disappeared, and the stoic demeanor emerged. “I need this month's lease renewals and inspections on my desk in ten minutes.”

As Reyna watched Paige's hair bounce away, she remembered why she disliked her boss. Paige reminded her of Tyson. “Maybe I should fix them up,” she mumbled, “right after I get him to sign on the dotted line.”