Joy Comes in the Morning (2 page)

I woke up excited, hopped out of my carnation pink canopy bed with expectation, and looked down at my exquisitely dressed ring finger. The memory of yesterday's magnificent events was still dancing around in my head, still making me the happiest I've ever been. I grabbed my terrycloth robe and headed for the bathroom, filled with a mixture of emotions. How could I marry the man of my dreams and spend the rest of my life lying to him? Sure people did it all the time, but I wasn't other people. I had a real relationship with my Heavenly Father that I didn't want to mess up for any reason. Lord knows I'd messed up enough times before. While I showered, I decided to pray, something I did quite often. When I came out, I covered my body with shea butter lotion, then chose a cotton aquamarine dress to wear. Determined to squeeze my size fourteen body into that size thirteen dress, I took a deep breath and zipped it up before I let it out. A couple of inches were not going to stop me. Twirling myself around in front of my full length mirror, I promised myself I'd make up for my tasty indiscretions with extra workout time at the gym. Not that I was a fitness enthusiast, but my sister was, and she dragged me down there kicking and screaming anytime she noticed I was putting on a few pounds. I couldn't argue this time, not unless I wanted them to roll me down the aisle. I sucked in my stomach and put my hands on my hips. If I were going to be a chic bride, I had a lot of work to do.

Within minutes I was out of my apartment building and on my way to work where I could escape my problems by hiding myself in service, the same thing I always did. Help the college, help the church, help the family. If only a sista could help herself. Since my car was in the shop, and I had to take the subway, I arrived at work a little early. When I walked through the front door of Brooklyn Missionary Bible College, I smelled cinnamon in the air and wondered if Dr. Harding was having a bagel with his morning coffee. As I turned down the corridor, the first person I saw was Marisol sitting at her desk. She had her usually free flowing brown hair pulled up into a bun with a butterfly pin in the center.

I guess I could say that next to my sister, Marisol was my closest friend. We were not only co-workers, but sometimes confidants. And I do emphasize sometimes. See, I didn't keep many females close to me, didn't trust them much at all. Mom taught me that way back in the day. I always seemed to work better with men anyway, and I didn't mean that the way my freaky sister would. I meant that I genuinely got along better with men, without all the drama and hater issues. Now I'm not saying that I'm special or anything, but I am saying that I don't have time for female foolishness. Some of the sisters I ran into wouldn't know common sense if it kicked them in the face. Anyway, here at work,Marisol was my girl.“Good morning.” I waved cheerily, throwing my hand in her face.

“Morning, girl.” Marisol waved without looking up from the papers in her hand.

I cleared my throat and kept my left hand in her face. “I said good morning.”

“What's wrong with you? I . . .” Marisol looked up, right into the glare of my three-carat diamond ring.

“Nothing. Everything is right with me, very right.” I tried to contain my excitement.

“Girl, no.” Marisol covered her mouth in disbelief. Then she started jumping up and down, hugging me over and over again. “When did you get this?”

“Last night.”

“Last night? Wow.” Marisol examined the ring from top to bottom. “And you didn't call me?”

“It was so romantic, and it was like everything I've ever dreamed of.”

“Ooh tell me, tell me. I want to hear every detail,” Marisol squealed.

“You know I'll tell you, but not now.” I lowered my voice and looked over my shoulder as a few professors walked by.

“All right, but I don't know if I can wait until then.” Marisol picked up my hand and eyed my ring one last time. “Ooh, girl, this rock, this rock.”

“I've got to get to my station before neither of us have jobs. Then I'll have to hock the rock for rent.”

“Oh, you've got jokes today.”

I snatched my hand away from her and started toward my area. “We'll talk later.”

“And, you know we will. Wow.” Marisol shook her head and giggled. “Congrats again.”

I walked slowly, allowing myself to daydream along the way, and finally stopped at my cubicle. I glanced at the Post-It Notes that covered my bulletin board before I took the files out of my inbox and turned on my computer. I looked at the black screen, logged in, and began to type furiously. Brooklyn Missionary Bible College, with its red brick and ivory columns, was a haven for those who desired ecumenical degrees and seminology certificates. It was also a good place for general Bible study and personal spiritual development, staffed with some of the city's most prestigious PhDs. Dr. Harding was one of them, although he usually remained more humble than most. Two of the things I liked most about working at the college were first, that I got to work with ministers from all over the country, and secondly, Joshua, whose business had now become my pleasure, attended the school also. I always relished the opportunity to see him every day before his classes.

He was, undoubtedly, the best thing that had ever happened to me, besides Jesus, of course. The problem was some people didn't think so, and they did their best to find something wrong with our relationship anytime they could; his family, my family and the myriad of folk we called our church family. Most of them didn't bother me though. The only thing that truly stood in the way of my happiness was the secret I was carrying, the one that had been tearing me apart from the moment I succumbed to it, something that would disappoint everyone I knew and taint my spotless reputation in the church; something a man like Joshua could probably never understand.

Now if I could have gone back to fix it, I would have, but there was no changing that lone moment in time when Joshua looked solemnly into my eyes and expressed the painful way in which his wife had died, how what she had done was inexcusable. There was no changing that moment when I could've been honest. But I wasn't. Instead, I held his hands, kept my mouth closed, and nodded in agreement at the horror of what she'd done. Yes, I missed my opportunity, and that was in the past. It was what it was. I could only go forward and forget, at least until Joshua's phone call stopped me in my tracks.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Joshua said.

“Hi. How are you?”

“Great.”

“What's up?”

“I'm just working some numbers out right now, but that's not important. Listen, I know you're busy too, but I just wanted you to know I've got special plans for the five of us tonight.”

“Special plans for five?”

“Honey, don't you remember that Lilah will be here soon?” Suddenly, Joshua sounded annoyed. “Her and my mom's flight is scheduled to arrive any minute now.”

“Of course. I just didn't realize they'd be up to getting together so soon after their trip.” I held my breath for a moment.

“I'm sure they'll be a little tired, but I managed to talk Mom into it.”

I'll bet you did
. “Wonderful then.”

“I can hardly wait till tonight,” Joshua said.

“Neither can I.” That was the first lie for the day. I was in no way ready to sit down with Pastor and First Lady Bennings while they go on and on about their fine congregation and their fine family as if everyone else outside of their circle were mere dirt. Nor was I in the mood to humiliate myself by trying to entertain the princess, Lilah. Now that was pressure.

“Look, I've got to get back to work. I'll see you later, babe.”

“Bye.” His words sent shivers through me. So I closed my eyes and pretended that everything was all right in my world. I smiled and decided that I needed to buy a gift for Lilah. Maybe that would help break the ice between us. Placing my phone back into my purse, I went back to work, although my heart really wasn't in it. I sat at my desk looking over the numerous files of students, past and present, who had crossed my path. Each one had a story, and some actually held a special place in my heart. Like Minister Ramon Vega who graduated two years ago, started his church a year ago, and whose ministry had ballooned to an impressive 3,000 within months. Whenever he would come through the campus, I'd just stand back, watch prayers answered and miracles manifested. He always had a timely and prophetic word, something I personally had learned to value. There was an anointing on that man that only God Himself could explain.

Then there was Missionary Annette Lewis, one of the sweetest women I had ever known. She took a series of spiritual development classes until God called her into the fields of Cambodia. I haven't seen her since, but it's her devoutness I miss the most. Nothing could stop that woman from being at the church every time the doors opened.

Yes, I guess I could say my job had meaning, just not necessarily the right meaning for me. I wanted to check out, go home and hide under the covers, not be bothered with the family façade I'd soon be engaged in. I thought surely it couldn't get any worse than this. That is, until I leaned over to throw a piece of paper into the trash can and noticed that someone had left the entertainment section of the newspaper sprawled open right behind my chair. I reached down to pick it up, figuring it was probably that little temp girl from the agency that left it there. She looked like the type that only cared about entertainment, with her blue nail polish and her glitter hair do's. As I was about to ball it up, I slowly focused in on the picture beside the first article. My fingers began to tremble when I saw his face.

At first glance I wasn't really sure it was him, but after further examination, I knew it was him all right; a little blurry, but him just the same. He was sitting next to a woman with her arm draped over him. He wasn't facing the camera, but still I'd know that profile anywhere. I quickly scanned the article for details. It was a short article, highlighting a stage play which was earning critical acclaim in California. So he had achieved his dream of being an actor, I supposed. Well, good for him. At least his life didn't end that day.I ripped the page from the newspaper and crumpled it in my fist. I couldn't believe I was seeing him for the first time after all these years. My heart raced as I dumped the paper into the trash can, smothered the tears with my fingertips, and spun around in my chair. Then I took a deep breath, looked at the stack of papers in front of me, and started going through them, one by one, trying to act as if nothing had happened. I was virtually numb.

I went through the motions, but it was so hard to concentrate. No, this wasn't happening again. I wasn't going to let him break me. It had been so long ago since I'd seen his face, and although it was a fine one, I certainly didn't expect to see it again in a magazine. I sighed, deciding that I could deal with seeing him in a picture as long as I didn't have to see him in person. I quietly began to recite Psalm 37 until I was calm.

After what seemed like forever, it was time for my break. I needed to get out of there, and to get some air. I went over to Dr. Harding's office and peeped my head in. “Dr. Harding, I'll be taking my break now.”

“Very good, Sister Alex. I guess we can hold it down until you get back.” Dr. Harding chuckled, but I was not amused. There was no humor in being his secretary. I thought of the crumpled page at the bottom of my trash can and knew there was little humor in my life at all. I turned and started toward the exit. I passed by Marisol on the way.

“Hey, where are you going, chica?”

“I'm going to make a quick run to the pharmacy across the street, then come back and eat my lunch.” I hoped she wouldn't want to tag along.

“Wait for me then,” Marisol said. “I brought my own lunch too.”

Unfortunately Marisol loved company and loved to talk, so I was doomed. The two of us disappeared through the double glass doors and headed across the street to Phillip's Pharmacy. On the way, I described Joshua's proposal in detail, with all the highs and lows of true female gossip, and I also explained how I needed to pick up something special for Joshua's daughter.

“I'm going to look over here in this coloring book section. You go on without me.” I waved her away. “I'll catch up eventually.” I plundered through the coloring book selection, trying to choose between Dora or Barbie. Much to my dismay, this section was very near the checkout counter.

A wave of nausea crept through my stomach as I overheard a lady picking up a prescription for prenatal vitamins. I looked up at her. She couldn't have been more than three months along. I put my hand up to my mouth, not because I was really sick, but just because I was sick of reminders everywhere I went, even at this quaint little pharmacy. Some were subtle, some were obvious, but every single one was too much to bear. Reminders of the life I would have had if I hadn't sold my soul to the devil.
Lord,
deliver me.

Today, as I trudged up and down the aisles, dressed in my form fitting skirt suit, cloaked in the epitome of professionalism, I closed my eyes to shut out the images that had become my existence. I opened them to glance at my watch, carefully monitoring the minutes I spent in the store. Lunchtime was never long enough. Dr. Harding would be expecting me back soon, waiting for his precious messages and waiting to have his students' dissertations neatly filed away, none of which I particularly cared about. But I did care about getting my paycheck, if you could call it that, and today was payday. First I grabbed a coloring book and crayons for Lilah. Then I quickly gathered my shampoo, conditioner, packs of soft curlers, a Hershey's cookies and cream bar, a six pack of Diet Coke, two boxes of aspirin, because I had been having those unbearable headaches lately, and one pack of bunion remover because my shoes were doing something ungodly to my size nine feet. After I had placed everything inside my basket, I decided to make one quick stop at aisle six before checking out. I looked at my watch again and knew that I'd have to hurry if I were going to have time to eat lunch. I sighed as I went about my business, searching the shelves for the same female hygiene items I purchased every month.

Yet, I didn't know that here at this small, insignificant pharmacy, my deliverance would come walking through the door, and that the same ache that infiltrated my psyche, would actually force a change. Unfortunately, before there would be change, there would be trouble.

I slipped into the aisle quickly, fingering the various feminine product choices in this section. Suddenly, a shadow lurked behind me, and I lifted my eyes just in time to see a familiar face.

“Michelle, is that you?” I smiled as I recognized Brother and Sister Harris's daughter. Within seconds, my expression changed. I also recognized the box that Michelle was holding, and I held my breath. Reminders.

Almost simultaneously, Michelle pushed the box behind her back. She shuffled around a nearby shelf, pretending to look at sanitary napkins instead of what I was almost certain she was hiding. After all, I had been browsing these well placed shelves every week for three whole years, ever since I started working across the street. The store was only so big, and I, being the observant, organized person that I am, knew almost every crack and crevice, every bend and tear. I knew exactly what that item, if nothing else, looked like, where it was and where it was supposed to be. If I knew anything at all, I knew where to find
that.

“Oh, hi, Sister Alex.” Michelle's right eye twitched as she spoke. She took one step backward, almost tripping over her own feet. She was definitely acting guilty.

“I thought that was you. What are you doing out of school?” I hoped that I didn't sound too meddlesome. I didn't usually make a habit of interfering with other people's affairs. Laughing to myself, I was sure that that my sister would disagree with that thought.

“Oh . . . I, uh . . . wasn't feeling well, so I didn't go today. In fact, that's really why I'm here . . . to get some cold medicine.” Michelle coughed deeply with one hand, but kept the other one behind her back.Too obvious, I thought.

“I see. I work at the Bible college right across the street.” I, without trying to, found myself staring at the girl. She was a plain looking teenager who wore no makeup or jewelry, who wore her shoulder length hair back in one ponytail. Her sweatshirt was the color of wet mud, and it was void of design or style. Her jeans and sneakers were both a faded out version of the same dullness she personified. She smelled like wet denim. She neither looked nor smelled anything like the dolled up minister's daughter I saw at church every week.

“I . . . I never even knew you worked around here.” Michelle stuttered mildly and formed a fake smile.

“Yeah, I've been at The Missionary Bible Institute for three years. By the way, the cold medications are on aisle four. I shop here all the time, so follow me.” Cautiously, I put my arm around Michelle, and led her to what she claimed she had been looking for, waiting to catch another glimpse of the box she so carefully kept out of sight.

“Cool. Working at a Bible college must be uh . . . different.”

“Yes, it's an interesting job.” When I turned to face Michelle again, she was no longer hiding anything behind her back. I looked at her thin, ashy hands and they were empty. Instantly, I looked down at the tiled floor, as if she had involuntarily dropped it, but she hadn't. She was apparently smarter than that.

We stood in the front of the brightly lit store, having a brief conversation about which products were the best at relieving the symptoms she described. The entire time I wondered, while we talked, if Michelle was truly in trouble, and if I'd be able to help. When Michelle had decided upon the items that she would purchase, I followed her toward the checkout counter. My palms were sweating the whole time.

The lady behind the counter pushed her long blond streaked hair out of her face, and quickly punched the keys on the cash register with her long butterfly decorated fingernails. Michelle bounced back and forth on the heels of her sneakers as her items were tallied up, still looking nervous. I continued to look busy, gathering up both items I needed and items I didn't need.

Finally, at the end of the transaction, Michelle looked over at me, trying to mask the sadness in her eyes. I saw right through her. In fact, I hoped she couldn't see right through me. For a moment I wished my short bob haircut was a longer, fuller hairstyle so I could hide my own eyes, my own knowing.

“Thanks again.” Michelle waved.

“No problem. It was good to see you.” I followed her to the door.

“You too,” Michelle said. “Well, I'll see you in church on Sunday.”

“Wait . . . Michelle, I . . .” My heart wouldn't stop racing. I wanted to tell her what I saw.

“Yes?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just figured I'd see you on Wednesday for Bible Study.” I knew I was walking on water, but I jumped in anyway.

“I'm not sure. It depends on how my mom is feeling. She has been a little under the weather too.”

“I understand.” I watched her eyes. “I guess something is going around.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Michelle dropped her gaze to the floor.

I wanted to say more, to tell the girl that she could be honest, that I understood, but my mouth wouldn't say what I told it to. “So I'll see you at church then.”

“Yeah, I'll see you.” Michelle practically fell out of the swinging doors, and I wanted to fall out right behind her. I was such a coward. Watching her run across the street to catch the bus, I waited with a mission in mind. The same mission I always had, to help the lost. Why did I have to always get involved? Then as soon as she boarded the bus, I began to search the area where the girl and I had passed, looking at each shelf, frantically needing confirmation. Just as I thought, my eyes caught a glimpse of an abandoned early pregnancy test on the edge of the wrong shelf, obviously thrown in a desperate attempt to not be discovered. I picked it up and read the label as if I had to prove something to myself. When I remembered where I was, I placed the box back in its correct spot. I wondered which pharmacy Michelle would go to next and if she would discover that she was really pregnant. I wondered if she would go through what I had gone through. Here I was a faithful customer, stranded behind the shelves of this little pharmacy, remembering my own mistakes and steadily losing my composure. “That poor girl,” I whispered. A tear trickled down my cheek. I guess I didn't even hear the footsteps coming up behind me.