More Than I Can Bear

E.N. Joy

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Table of Contents

 

 

Me, Myself and Him
She Who Finds a Husband
Been There, Prayed That
Love, Honor or Stray
Trying to Stay Saved
I Can Do Better All By Myself
And You Call Yourself a Christian
The Perfect Christian
The Sunday Only Christian
Ordained by the Streets
“A Woman's Revenge” (Anthology:
Best Served Cold
)
I Ain't Me No More
Flower In My Hair
Even Sinners Have Souls
(Edited by E.N. Joy)
Even Sinners Have Souls Too
(Edited by E.N. Joy)
Even Sinners Still Have Souls
(Edited by E.N. Joy)
The Secret Olivia Told Me
(N. Joy)
Operation Get Rid of Mom's New Boyfriend
(N. Joy)
Sabella and the Castle Belonging to the Troll (N. Joy)

 

 

This book is dedicated to my most dedicated readers. Because you picked up this book, you have invested in me with either your time, money, or both. Without that investment, there would be no divas series. There would be no BLESSEDselling author E.N. Joy. Because of you, I am. Thank you!

Natalie Weber of Urban Books; Girl, I don't even know what title to give you. You wear so many hats with the company. But what I do know is that you are the wind beneath so many of the authors' wings. Unfortunately, just like the wind, you sometimes might feel invisible. So I just wanted to take this time to let you know that I know you are there. I see you!!!!!!! Thanks for everything.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” With a piece of paper crushed inside each one of Paige's fists, she looked up to the heavens and cried out. Tears streamed down her face like a flowing river that had no ending place. If her eyes could shoot darts, she'd aim them at God's heart . . . if He even had one. As far as Paige was concerned, if God had a heart for her and He loved her as much as the Bible had professed, then why would He do something like this to her heart? Why would God tear it up into a million little pieces and serve it up to Satan on a silver platter?

Paige pulled her fists from the sky slowly and rested them under her chin, still clutching the two separate documents that each played a starring role in her real-life drama. Her mouth opened to ask God, for the thousandth time, “Why?” This time, though, nothing came out. Her query was stuck in her throat. Perhaps the word knew, like all those that had managed to escape Paige's throat within the past hour, it was useless to try to free itself. No answer had come as of yet. What would have made the exception this time around?

Paige melted down into what metaphorically resembled a pile of extra-dark chocolate that had lost its previous form of a nice sturdy bar. The mascara on her thick, long eyelashes had not run, but instead caked up on her lashes like dirt does once mixed with the wetness of rain. Although the sun was beaming through her living room window, she could barely see through the thick, black, blurry clouds her eye makeup was creating, not to mention the rain that kept pouring down from her eyes as well.

Right there on her living room floor, where she'd opened the piece of mail that was ultimately the straw that broke the camel's back, Paige could not stop the tears. She could not stop the pain. Hadn't she endured enough pain in her almost twenty-nine years of life? She'd dealt with the pain of being the blackest berry on the vine as a result of her dark skin complexion. She'd dealt with the pain of feeling as if her own mother had been ashamed of her, therefore not spending any quality mother-daughter time while Paige was growing up. She'd dealt with the pain of being a plus-size girl and pretending she was happy and comfortable with the skin she was in. She'd dealt with the pain of being in an abusive marriage. She'd dealt with the pain of finding out that her best friend, Tamarra, had slept with her abusive husband. She'd dealt with the pain of ultimately choosing to divorce both her husband and her best friend.

For the first time since she could remember, Paige was on the verge of true happiness. Forget true happiness; she'd been on the verge of joy. Of peace. For once in her life, true freedom from the grip it seemed the devil had had on her all her life had been within her reach. It was in plain view. She could have almost reached out and touched it. And now, just like that, it had been snatched away from her.

“I don't want Satan to consider me anymore,” Paige pleaded to God in reference to the Book of Job, where Satan had been roaming the earth seeking whom he could devour. Then out of nowhere God asks if Satan had considered His servant Job. From that point on, Satan made Job's life a living hell. “Enough! Enough!” Paige began to pound her fist on the floor like a terrible two having a tantrum because her mother had refused her a lollipop in the supermarket checkout line.

Not even the ringing of Paige's cell phone tore her from her fit. As far as she was concerned, unless Jesus really was on the main line, no one on the other end of that phone could comfort her right now. She was certain no one else had the answers to the questions she'd been crying out. No one could possibly understand how she felt at this very moment. So to voicemail the caller went as Paige spread her body across the living room floor, finally releasing the papers from her grip. After a couple minutes she pulled herself into a fetal position and bawled. After a few minutes of that she lay on her back staring up at the ceiling, shaking her head, still in disbelief. Next she rolled onto her stomach again. Onto her side, pulling her knees to her chest with one arm across her stomach, as if the pain were something tangible she could scoop up like a baby. And like a baby, she ultimately fell off into a sleep.

By the time Paige opened her eyes again, the sun had taken cover for the night. Opening her eyes to complete darkness, Paige managed to pick up all 165 pounds of herself off the floor and walk her size-fourteen frame over to the lamp that sat on the end table next to her couch. She flopped down on the couch and washed her hands down her face. She'd almost felt like she was awakening from a bad nightmare until she spotted the balled-up pieces of paper at her feet. There lay the evidence that today's findings had been oh so real.

Living on the hope and a prayer of the possibility that this all still could have been a nightmare, Paige slowly bent down and picked up one of the balled-up documents. Back in a sitting position she unwrinkled it, flattening it out in her lap. After taking a deep breath and then exhaling, she allowed her eyes to roam the document in hand. There it was; she'd been granted her divorce from her now ex-husband, Blake. He hadn't contested any of the judge's orders. Thanks to the assistance of legal aid, it had been a rather quick and smooth process. The house: hers. Fifty percent of Blake's assets: all hers with the agreement that she would waive any type of alimony or seek any other type of support or civil damages from him whatsoever. Blake had also slid in a clause that Paige would forfeit and have to pay back all funds if she was ever found to have been unfaithful in the marriage. Blake had been adamantly convinced that Paige had cheated on him with her coworker-turned-best-friend, Norman. He could never prove it though, probably because it wasn't true. But it was obviously something Blake felt in his spirit was in fact true and would one day come to light. Knowing that wasn't the case, Paige didn't dispute the clause.

“The nerve!” Paige had spat upon reviewing the clause. “How dare the cheater have a clause about cheating?”

Overall, Paige had been just fine with her divorce arrangements. She couldn't have cared less about receiving alimony from Blake. She wanted no ties to the man. Besides, she'd been an independent sister taking care of herself before she'd met Blake. She would continue to do the same post-Blake. Under ordinary circumstances she wouldn't have even considered taking 50 percent of his assets, but he'd abused her mentally, physically, sexually, and spiritually. Yes, Paige had been certain vengeance was the Lord's and God would make Blake pay . . . eventually. But having no idea how long God would take to get him and get him good, Paige wanted to make Blake pay now—literally. So she hit him in his pockets, knowing money meant the world to Blake.

The next step Paige had planned on taking once the divorce was final was restoring her last name to Robinson: her birth name. Dickenson was her ex-husband's last name. The woman so unlucky enough to ever marry that man was the one who deserved to bear his last name, not her. The last thing she wanted to do was walk around being Paige Dickenson. That was not who she was anymore. Carrying a man's family name was serious business as far as she was concerned, and she was no longer part of Blake's family. What's in a name? Obviously a lot; otherwise, God wouldn't have renamed so many people in the Bible. And even though the last thing she was concerned with at the moment was remarrying, how did she expect her future husband to find her, the real her, Paige Renea Robinson, if she was still running around connected to and disguised as her last husband's wife? She did not want to present herself to the next man while bearing the name of the last man.

Paige looked down at the other document that lay balled at her feet. This paper just might have been the thing to have her reconsider this whole business of changing her last name back to Robinson. She picked it up, laid it on top of the divorce decree, and unwrinkled it. She blinked as she read the doctor's notes from her visit just a couple hours ago. She blinked again, hoping and praying the words would unscramble to read something else. They didn't.

“Pregnant.” The word wrestled its way out of Paige's mouth. She wasn't just pregnant, but right at the peak of her second trimester. With the criminal trial against her husband for abusing and raping her, the filing of the divorce from Blake and the emotional divorce of her friendship with Tamarra, Paige had neglected her body to the point where she didn't even acknowledge her MIA monthly cycle.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Paige directed the insult at herself. “How could I have been so stupid as to not realize I hadn't been having a period?” The only reason why Paige had even gone to the doctor was because it was time for her annual Pap smear; otherwise, she probably wouldn't have even known she was pregnant until her dang water broke!

“This can't be happening.” She continuously shook her head. “I don't even want his last name, let alone his baby. Please, God, don't do this to me. It's too much.” Paige began to breathe in and out so deeply she just about hyperventilated. Scared that she would have an anxiety attack, she stood to her feet and began pacing her breaths until her breathing pattern was normal as well as her heart rate. She swallowed hard and then sat back down on the couch.

She rested her forehead in her hand as she tried to keep from throwing up just thinking about why she had ever willingly lain down with Blake and made a baby with him. That's when it hit her, the god-awful truth. She hadn't willingly lain down with Blake and made a baby. He'd raped her.

No sooner had Paige sat down on the couch than she jumped back to her feet. “The product of rape. You place a baby in my womb that's the product of the most awful experience of my life: my husband raping me? Really, God. I mean for real? You hate me that much?”

Paige refrained from using cuss words at God, as if technically she hadn't already been cursing him. There was so much more within her that she wanted to spew out, but she knew God knew her heart so her words were falling on deaf ears. Deep inside she loved God, but right now she was so frickin' mad that the last thing she wanted to do was tell Him how much she loved Him. Even though that's exactly what she knew she needed to do in order to get through this ordeal. She needed God. No matter how angry and upset she was with Him, she needed Him right now: this hour, this second. So without further delay, Paige kneeled down, looked upward, clasped her hands together at her chin, her fingers intertwining, and then closed her eyes.

“Dear God, first and foremost, I repent for my negative and hateful words I've spoken in this time of sorrow,” Paige prayed. “I know you are a kind and loving God, but I'm so mad right now that I had to just get that off. And, well, you were the only one around for me to lash out at . . . besides myself. And believe me, I know I'm the only one to blame for this.”

Tears fell down Paige's dimpled cheeks as she continued to pray. “I should have known Blake was a wolf in sheep's clothing. I knew He wasn't my soul mate when I married him. But I wanted him. I wanted him whether he was the one you had for me or not, which is why I didn't even ask for your permission before I walked down the aisle with him. Which is probably why I turned a blind eye to all the signs you placed before me telling me he was not the one you had for me. So I can't help but wonder, God, if being pregnant with his child is my punishment for not seeking you first. If it is, please let me off punishment, God. I know I might be asking a lot, but with you, I know I'm never asking the impossible. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen.”

Paige found the strength to get back on her feet. Next she just had to find the strength to take a step. Not literally, but she had to find the strength to take a step toward resolving the dilemma she now found herself in. She had to do something and she was going to do something . . . with or without God's help, or His blessing.