She Who Finds a Husband (20 page)

BOOK: She Who Finds a Husband
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“I'm sorry, Paige.”
“Well, did you at least tell Pastor and everyone else that I wasn't the Holy Hoe they thought I was? That I was still a virgin?”
“That wasn't my information to give.”
“So you just let folks talk about me?”
“Get over yourself,” Tamarra snapped. “Folks are always going to talk about you regardless. Who are you not to be talked about? So don't start thinking more highly of yourself than you ought. And anyway, we've gotten off subject here. We're supposed to be talking about you and Blake.”
“Ha!” Paige said. “Me and Blake? There is no me and Blake. I've been living a lie, unbeknownst to me, but he's been sitting back letting me. I mean, I really love this man. I took him home to meet my parents for crying out loud. Most men I've dated never even got to see a picture of my parents.” Paige thought for a moment, and then something came to mind. “He knew you were a caterer.”
“Huh?” Tamarra was confused.
“On the way to my parents' house, his first time meeting them, he mentioned that you were a caterer. For the life of me, I couldn't recall ever telling him that about you.” Paige bopped herself upside the head. “He played me. Stupid me. I can't marry that man. I can't even date that man. It's over!” Once again, the floodgates opened and tears poured from her eyes.
“Hold up, Paige. I'm not saying that you should not date Blake. Heck, I'm not even saying that you shouldn't marry him. I just didn't want you to not know the truth. I didn't want you to base everything on this so-called divine set up.”
“The truth is supposed to set one free, but all I'm getting from the truth is a bunch of hurt. Thanks a lot, Tamarra.”
“I'm so sorry,” Tamarra said as she got up and hugged her sobbing friend. “I was so selfish to do something like this. I mean, I know had I just told you in the beginning everything would have been fine. But again, me being selfish—worried about my own issues—I just didn't think.”
“Oh, don't worry about it, girl,” Paige said, wiping her tears with the worn tissues. “We're even.”
“What do you mean, we're even?”
“Well, folks were talking about me and all my dates on a search for my husband, when I should have just kept my tail standing still so that my husband could find me. Like you said, what did I expect you to do? Folks are always going to talk. And like I said, we're even. I'm no better than you. I don't remember doing too much of nothing when folks got to talking about you and Maeyl.”
Tamarra hadn't thought about that. “Yeah, you're right.”
“Oh, forget you, girl,” Paige said, playfully shoving Tamarra before the two embraced.
After a few moments of hugs and a couple more mutual apologies, Tamarra finally asked, “So what are you going to do about Blake? I mean, it's not like the man doesn't really love you. He told me so.”
“Oh, he did? When did he tell you that?”
“He told me on one of the thousand times he called me to let me know that you two were getting serious and that he wanted to come clean about you guys' chance meeting. About me telling him where you worked and what time you got off. You'd been complaining about working in that ticket booth all week, so I knew everything would work out as planned.” Tamarra thought for a minute. “Maeyl was right, playing cover up with a good thing somehow makes it seem bad. The same way I forced Maeyl to hide our relationship, I forced Blake to basically do the same thing with yours and his. And look how things turned out with me and Maeyl.”
Paige thought for a moment. “Yeah, look how things did turn out for you and Maeyl,” she smiled. “I mean, at first, child, it was like a soap opera. But in the end, everything worked out just fine for you two.”
“So are you saying that perhaps everything could work out just fine with you and Blake?”
“Perhaps.” Paige shrugged with a knowing look on her face right before the phone rang. She walked over and looked at the caller ID. Taking note that it was Blake, she looked at Tamarra, smiled, winked, and then repeated, “Perhaps.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Tamarra could barely walk she was so stuffed. The lasagna Paige had made was delicious. She'd told her it was her grandmother's recipe. Not that Tamarra had too many requests for lasagna at her catering affairs due to how expensive it was, but the next time she did, she'd be sure to ask Paige if she could use her grandmother's recipe.
“Who would have thought it?” Tamarra asked herself, flopping her body that she was sure held two extra pounds of lasagna, onto her sofa. “Paige Robinson, getting her cook on for her husband-to-be.”
After Paige's phone call with Blake, that eventually Tamarra herself took part in once Paige put her on the line as well, Tamarra knew that despite her interference in Blake and Paige getting together, those two were definitely meant to be. Tamarra had to give all glory to God for connecting those two soul mates.
She watched Paige be just as forgiving to Blake as Maeyl had been to her. And it was Tamarra who had brought it to Paige's attention that Blake really hadn't lied to her. He just simply withheld the truth.
“But you told me you were outside of that theatre meeting another woman,” Paige had said to Blake while all three were on the phone line.
“Actually, dear, you are the one who said that I was meeting another woman,” Blake corrected her. “I simply said that I was meeting someone.”
Eventually both realized how childish it was to go back and forth, and ended up laughing at how ridiculous they sounded. By the end of the thirty-minute phone call, the engagement was on and a wedding date had been set for a year from now. All's well that ends well.
When Tamarra heard her phone ring, she slothfully went to answer it. Staring at the caller ID, she thought twice about answering the call. But she knew that it was time for her to stop feeling like an ant and become a giant to every and anything that might try to hinder her in the future. It was time, she felt. If after all these years, Paige could finally confront her mother about how she felt, surely Tamarra could finally confront her own.
“Hey, Mom,” Tamarra answered, returning to the couch.
“Well, the devil must be freezing his buns off for the first time in life, because your father said hell would freeze over before I'd get you on the phone,” Tamarra's mother joked.
“That's Daddy, full of jokes,” Tamarra stated. “How are you, Mom?”
“Splendid, splendid, and more splendid,” she said.
“That's good to hear.” Tamarra paused for a minute. “Sorry I haven't returned any of your calls. There's just been so much going on in my life. You know I'm seeing someone now.”
“You don't say. Well, good for you.”
“Thanks, Mom. He's a wonderful God-fearing man. He attends New Day. We've known each other for years, but we've only been seeing each other for a few months.”
“Well, you know your father and I would love to meet him . . . get to know all about him, the same way he knows all about us, I'm sure.”
Tamarra picked up on the fact that her mother was really asking if she'd told her new beau about her family. “He knows a little about you all, but not everything.”
“And not everyone, I'm sure. I mean, after all, you were married to what's his name for umpteen years, and he never knew about Raymond. Every time you two came to visit, which wasn't often, you'd call ahead to make sure I'd removed Raymond's pictures from the mantel and put away any photo albums. It saddens your father and me how you act as though Raymond doesn't even exist. Speaking of Raymond—”
“Mom, are you serious? It saddens you and Daddy that I act like Raymond doesn't exist? What about how I felt about you and Daddy acting like the entire incident didn't exist. And now you want me to acknowledge that monster?”
“You know you really shouldn't talk like that. Whether you like it or not, Raymond is your brother.”
“And those girls he raped that landed him all these years in prison were somebody's daughters.”
“It's molested,” Tamarra's mother corrected.
“What?” Tamarra looked down at the phone as if she couldn't believe her mother was trying to downplay the reasons behind her brother being in jail.
“He was charged with molestation, not rape.”
“Well, he should have been charged with rape,” Tamarra snapped, “because that's exactly what he did. That's exactly what he did to those girls. He raped them, Mom. The same way he raped me!”
“Look, your father just walked in. I have to go.”
“Yeah, you run off and take care of Daddy the same way he ran off to take care of Raymond.”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Mrs. Evans stammered.
“Like heck you don't!” For the first time during their conversation, Tamarra realized that she was raising her voice at her mother. She took a deep breath and lowered her tone. “I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to disrespect you, but how much longer are we going to live this lie?”
“I'm not going to sit here and listen to—”
“Yes, you are!” Tamarra demanded, realizing that once again she'd raised her voice at her mother. She swallowed and lowered her tone. “Yes, you will listen. You owe me that much.”
Tamarra took a second to think about the words that she was about to let come out of her mouth. They were words that she had longed to speak over the years, but never had. But she wanted answers. She needed answers.
“Raymond raped me, Mom. He raped me for four years before I ever told you. And hadn't you realized the stains on my sheets weren't from me peeing the bed, and questioned me about it, it might have gone on longer. Heck, we might even be living together as husband and wife instead of brother and sister.”
“That's sick,” Mrs. Evans said.
“No, what he did to me was sick. What you and Daddy did to cover it up was sick. I'll never forget that day you sat me in my bedroom and badgered me about the stains on my sheet.”
“Well, if you had done your laundry like I'd told you to, I never would have had to do it myself and noticed them.”
“Are you serious? Are you serious?” Now Tamarra was well aware that she was loud talking her mother, and this time, she didn't care. “You're blaming me? But why should that surprise me? As quiet as it's kept, you've always blamed me. Why, I don't know.”
“I'll tell you why,” Mrs. Evans decided to shoot back. “Your brother told me how you used to come in his room wearing just a sleep shirt with no pants. Sitting on his bed Indian style with your panties showing.”
“They were Wonder Woman panties, Mom, Underroos. I was only ten years old when Raymond started raping me. Raymond was thirteen. He knew better. But then again, if Daddy had done a better job hiding his porn tapes, then maybe this could have been prevented. Maybe Raymond wouldn't have watched them, and then had the desire to come try all that sick stuff out on me.”
“Now that's enough. Your father had no idea that Raymond was sneaking into his private things. Quit trying to blame everybody else. You have to take some blame yourself, too, you know. Have you ever asked yourself what part you had in all this? I mean, you did allow it to go on for four years. And I can only imagine how much longer it would have gone on if I hadn't pressured you into telling me.”
“Believe me, Mom. I've asked myself that same question. But not more times than I've asked myself how you and Dad could cover it up and act as though it hadn't happened. I mean, the performance we all had to put on. You and Dad faking a divorce just so no one would question why the family wasn't living together. Dad took Raymond all the way to Maryland, and you kept me here in Ohio. Then as soon as Raymond turned of age and was able to move out on his own, you and Dad suddenly reconciled. And the entire world bought the whole charade. All of that just so Raymond and I wouldn't be living in the same house together, and he wouldn't sneak into my room at night.”
“Well, what would you have suggested?” Mrs. Evans had the most indignant tone ever in his voice.
“How about calling the police?”
“What kind of parent puts their own child in jail?”
“The same kind of parent who protects their child. Funny thing is, I was the one who you and Dad should have been protecting, but instead you protected the rapist.”
“He's your brother!” Mrs. Evans scolded.
“No, mother, he's your son. He's no brother of mine. He's dead as far as I'm concerned, and you know what, Mom? That's exactly what I tell the very few people who actually know that I ever had a brother; that he died. But then again, I didn't have many friends considering I was home schooled.”
“Is that what that so-called New Day church of yours teaches the Christians to do down there? Lie? That's exactly why I stay as far away from church as possible. Some of those denominations are like cults. Brainwashing folks.”
“You should talk?” Those words had seethed through Tamarra's teeth. “You brainwashed me into keeping quiet and living a lie. I believe we took ‘what goes on in this house stays in this house' to the extreme.”
This was a conversation that Tamarra had dreamed of having for so many years. So much so that she used to practice in the mirror exactly what she would say. Of course, those lines went out of the window the minute her mother tried to shift the blame on her about what her brother had done to her. She hadn't foreseen that happening. No. The script she wrote ended with her mother and father apologizing to her and telling her how much they loved her. She never thought in a million years her mother would have accused her of enticing the rapist.
“Like I said, you might want to take a look at yourself and see what role you played in all of this,” her mother reiterated. “I really thought by you being involved in church and all, it might help you, but I see it's doing just the opposite. You won't even confess to having a part in it.”
“I don't care if I used to go in Raymond's room butt naked,” Tamarra screamed. “I was only ten. I was only ten.” Tamarra became angry with herself as tears threatened to fill her eyes.
No,
she told the tears.
No, you will not fall.
Tamarra had cried enough over what her brother had done to her. She cried every night he had come into her room and assaulted her. He'd made her do all the disgusting things he'd seen on the porn tapes he'd watched; the tapes that belong to their father that he'd sneak and watch only moments before assaulting her. The day her father packed up her brother and moved out of town, she vowed she'd never let another tear fall over the once sweet boy who would do anything for his little sister, to the now monster who would do anything to hurt his little sister. No more tears for what he'd done to her. Ever. That included now.
“Look, Mom, I've been really asking God to help me work on myself, and in the past few months, He's delivered me from a lot of things. He's helped me to face and cope with some things.”
“Well, tell me, Tamarra, in these past few months, has this God you serve put forgiveness before you?”
“I, uh . . . what do you mean?” Tamarra didn't think she liked what her mother was getting at.
“Have you done anything that you needed forgiveness for, and God put it on a person's heart to forgive you?”
“Mother, here lately, more times than you can imagine.”
“Then why is it you have no problem seeking forgiveness, but you can't forgive others?”
“I do forgive others. I forgive others all the time, but this is different.” Tamarra choked back tears. “I couldn't even give my husband a child because of what your son did to me.”
“My son? You say it as if I'm responsible for Raymond's acts.”
“Well, I'm sorry you took it that way, Mother, even though that's not how I meant it. Perhaps you're experiencing a dose of conviction.”
“How dare you, Tamarra?” her mother spat, on the verge of tears. “Your father told me that bringing up your brother with you was useless.”
“Well, this time I'd have to say Daddy was right. I know God's grace and mercy has been upon me. I know I'm blessed that He put it on others' hearts to forgive me for my wrongdoings, but this mountain just seems to be unmovable right now.”
“But if you'd just say move mountain—”
“Mom, it's not that easy! And don't be one of those non-Christians who are always trying to quote scriptures to those of us who are! If you can quote the scripture, then you should be able to live by the scripture!” Tamarra yelled, leaving dead silence on the line. “I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm sorry for disrespecting you in any way, it's just that, I guess God ain't done with me yet. I've come such a long way these past few months, and yet I'm still not where I need to be.”
Mrs. Evans exhaled. “I understand, honey. In spite of what you think, really, I do understand. And I'm going to hope that your God works on you, and soon,” her mother said, almost as if there was a sense of urgency. “Anyway, just know your father and I love you, Tamarra, we really do. I'm sorry for the choices we made that hurt you. I never wanted to hurt my baby girl.” Her mother began to sob.

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