Wearing My Halo Tilted (6 page)

Yeah, it was my choice to leave, but just to hear Dillon say we were through made me question once more if that's the outcome I wanted. And I could probably fight for him and get on a plane and go back home. But something inside of me couldn't do that. I was all messed up. I was not fit to be a mother to my girls and certainly not wife material right now. My husband couldn't reach out to me and understand what I needed. How in the world could he expect me to reach out to him? He wanted to be the leader. He said God placed him as the head of the family, but yet he acted more like the tail. I was tired of him showing his behind.

I needed to talk to somebody, but it couldn't be my mom. Though she supported me coming, if she knew Dillon was really against it she would probably tell me I better come home. I knew as mad as he was at me he wasn't gonna go over to my parents house and act a fool. He was foolish but he wasn't stupid.

He couldn't take care of the girls all by himself. I knew Dillon. I knew he respected my mom. He always wished that his mom had some of that class. That get up and go. The bottom line, he was scared of my mom. Not really knowing that all the while, she was on his side more than mine anyway.

I wanted to talk to my girl, Josie. She'd be screaming in my ear shouting for joy that I had stepped out and did something for me. But that surely wasn't what I needed either for myself. I did need counseling, but I could not call my mentor. She was still my pastor's wife, and I didn't want it known that I'd taken off. I might not have gotten judged, but I couldn't take any chances, so I was in a pickle.

Who could I talk to?
I wondered. And that's when my dear old daddy popped into my brain. I couldn't dial his number fast enough. However, the call went straight to voicemail. I knew if I dialed my parents' home, my mom would probably answer and I'd be stuck explaining. She always played the role of my dad's gatekeeper. Not only did she make sure his other faculty and staff teachers didn't get too close to him, I believed she liked keeping him at arms distance from me. I called her out several times and she said she wasn't doing that, but she did. I called and I got the third degree; I just wanted to speak to my own dad. So sometimes I just didn't call.

My mom couldn't know everything. She was way over the top. Still wanting to run my life when I was grown. She didn't know how to handle things I didn't agree with. What was I to do with no one to call on? It was like God just reached down from heaven and thumped me on the head and said, “Listen, why don't you talk to Me?”

Placing down the phone and getting on my knees in the limo, I bowed my head and said, “Lord, I really don't know what to say. My life is kinda good, but it's extremely crazy. I don't know if I did the wrong thing. Surely you want my marriage to last, right? I mean, Dillon and I love our kids with all our hearts. But if he's not loving me like You love the Church, then maybe this is my way out. What are You saying? Can You give me some direction? Right now I just think I did what was right. Show me how to walk Your way please. I feel so separated from You right now, that if You told me to turn left I'd probably go right. Speak to my heart, Lord.”

I was so deep into my prayer that I didn't realize the car had stopped. All of a sudden the limousine door was opened. The mean driver looked at me like I was some project kid that had no business being in the ride.

Rudely he said, “Ah, it's time to get out.”

Gathering my stuff, I saw the Ritz-Carlton hotel and realized again that this was really going to be first class all the way. Reaching into my pocket, I saw the three hundred dollars of cash I had on me and gave the gentleman a five. I didn't want to give him that. He looked extremely disappointed like, “Yeah, I know why I hated that you were black.”

I said to him with a smile, “Treat me better and you'll get more. Be glad I don't have the energy to report you.”

I walked away beaming inside, thinking,
Yeah, the same thing goes for my husband. That goes to show him dagonnit. That's what he gets. If it's over then let me move on.
As quickly as I thought it, I sighed.
Is moving on going to be easy though?
In the depths of my soul I doubted it. What choice did I have? I was alone now. Then again I wasn't. I had hope because God was with me. And I had already turned all this mess over to Him. So somehow, someway, it was going to work out for the best. I just had to learn how to follow Him.

 

 

I was so excited, and I had only an hour to get ready for the big night: the premiere of the play. Everything I had in my suitcases I hated. I needed a completely new wardrobe but lack of money wouldn't allow that to happen. Though I was getting a small mint, it took weeks for it to be sent from the production company, to my agent, then on to me.

My hair couldn't wait for my bank account to rise. Looking in the mirror in my completely clean bathroom, I wondered what in the world I could do to make my hair look better than it was. Thankfully, I had gotten a perm six days before, but my regular hair day was on Thursday. I hadn't noticed it before flying, but I had big flakes all up in the front of my bob haircut. I was thankful that I hadn't gotten it all cut off because I was able to wash it quickly and pull it all back with some gel. It was a chic look, not the nicest, but definitely not shabby either. Just a touch of class.

I found my black dress, which was fitted at the top but flared out at the waist with a cute little sash. It was black on one side, brown on the other, and the sleeves—oh, the sleeves—were completely stylish as they flared out on both sides, almost as long as my skirt. Right at my chest there was a nice little circle cut out. Nothing was revealed, but it would definitely tempt any man that looked my way. They'd say, “She looks hot.” When I turned around in the mirror and saw three rolls in my back, I realized maybe my yucky body was the reason why Dillon didn't care too much to keep himself in shape for me.

I gotta stop thinking about him,
I told myself, as I hit my head with a quick thump. Five minutes before six, my telephone rang. It couldn't have been my husband; he didn't have a clue as to where I was. It must be someone with the play who was going to be my ride, wanting to know if I was ready. This was cool. Black folks running a little early. I was diggin' this. To my satisfaction I was right.

“Hey, Ms. Writer, this is Melvin Jenkins, but you can call me Mel. We're so glad to have you,” the deep, husky, baritone-sounding voice said.

Off that I could tell this guy was friendly. That made my chest, that was beating way too fast, as if I had just come from running a marathon, slow down a pace or two. I had to relax and not be nervous.

“I'm running a little early because I know y'all black women. I needed to call you and let you know that the bus was going to be pulling out in five.”

“The whole cast is here at the Ritz?” I said, quite surprised that the producers of the play were spending those kind of bucks. I had been affiliated with some black plays before. When I was in college, I toured for six months with one. We stayed at so many Motel 6s and Days Inns that the light was left on for us.

“Yeah, but I mean, you got your own place. Most of the folks are four to a room! You ready?”

“Yeah,” I said with a little confidence.

“Cool. It'll be good to meet you. Come on down. Let's rap.”

After hanging up the phone, I went back into the bathroom. Quickly, I put on a girdle to hide some of my rolls and made sure I had on the cutest jewelry I owned. I splashed a little peppermint oil over my body and knelt by the tub to talk to the Lord.

“Father,” I cried, “this is a gospel play, but I don't know if I'm really out here doing Your work. I kinda feel distant from You now. Please calm me down. Stay with me, Lord. And Lord, I just pray also for my husband and my girls. You be to them what I can't right now. In Jesus' name, amen.”

“Could you hold the elevator please?” I yelled before it closed, bringing my untamed side to this upscale place.

My five minutes had turned into six, after I pampered myself a little more and prayed. I could only see part of the gentleman that held the elevator door open for me. But the part of the caramel man I saw was masculine, but tailored. When I stepped on I was speechless. It was him! Bryce Maddox was standing before me, even sexier than he ever was on TV. I stared with my mouth hung open.

“Okay, it seems you know me, but I don't think I've had the pleasure of ever meeting you, lovely lady,” he said, extending out his hand.

He looked at me so intensely it felt like his eyes were cutting through my flesh. Instinctively my eyes batted. I couldn't have disguised my blushing. Oh my, gosh.
What in the world is happening to me?
I thought.

“You look so pretty in that black dress. Tell me you're going to the play tonight,” he said in a flirtatious way that attracted me to him even more.

A big smile came across my face and I had to look away. His glare was overpowering. I felt my womanhood warm. My husband hadn't been that into my appearance in ages. It felt as refreshing as the smell of a full load of clothes coming from out of fabric softener. As I turned around toward him, the confidence that had escaped was quickly back.

Clearing my throat, I said, “I'm going to the play. I hear the story line is quite inspiring. I wouldn't miss it. And don't tell the lead, but he's my favorite singer of all time.”

Winking at me, he smiled and said, “I won't breathe a word to that Maddox guy. And though he's alright, the story is powerful.”

Hoping the elevator wouldn't stop, so we'd have privacy until we reached the lobby, I said, “Seriously, why are you doing a play?”

“My career needs a little boost. I've been doing the gospel thing for so long and I kinda wanna do some R&B too. I figure this play can give me a little bit of both. The music in it is real funky, but some of the songs help spread His message.”

“Isn't this from a book?” I asked, wanting to see his reaction.

I thought Bryce was all that, but knowing he never really read the book would certainly put a stamp of reality back in place. Dillon had never read any of my stuff. My husband refused to read my stuff, giving every excuse known to man, and it actually ticked me off. He wanted my support, but he couldn't support me. I just knew the star before me was also the stereotypical brotha' who did not read a thing.

“Yeah, and I actually liked the book even better than the script. You know with plays, all the good details can't be captured. To get into character though, I read the book three times,” he said, causing my jaw to drop open once more.

Still not believing him, I questioned, “What'd you really like about the book then?”

“Oh what, you think I'm a brotha' that don't read,” he said, feeling my thoughts. “Well, I'm ready for that question. I tell everybody about the book. You have this famous boxer who, through the first part of the book, was doing his own thing. Sleeping with all kinds of women, cheating on his wife. But yet every time he won a match, he would say, ‘To God be the glory. Thank you, Lord.' I mean it was like so fake, so phony, so unreal, and then God spared his life by not having him on a airplane that killed everybody close to him. And right there it was like his life changed. He realized that at the way he kept going, he'd be going to hell if he didn't get his life straight. The book is moving. And the physique of the dude in those pages made me have to work out extra hard to play a boxer. Get my abs in shape.” Bryce did a cute jab move.

I was impressed. Before I could respond and tell him I was the author, the elevator doors opened and five women came on and huddled around him. They weren't groupies or anything. I could tell by the way they were practicing their lines and saying they were part of the cast. Quickly, he had forgotten all about me.

One of the ladies caught me staring. She was so beautiful. Perfect brown skin that glowed as lovely as a summer day. The dusty red hair was doubled in layers all the way to her elbow. I'd seen that lady several times in magazines. Maybe it was woman-to-woman intuition, I don't know. Either she was Bryce's girl on the side or she wanted to be.

“Who were you talking to?” she said in a smug voice, as if I weren't there.

“Lacy, I was talking to this lady who's coming to the play tonight.”
Bryce
quickly motioned to me.

The other four girls were so nice and sweet they huddled around me, and said, “You're gonna love it.”

The other chick rolled her eyes at me definitely letting me know that she was a force to be reckoned with, but she didn't have to be all bummed out with me. Bryce was nice. A little flirty, but his time with me was all innocent. Never in a million years could he be interested in me. I liked to think I wasn't as homely looking as his wife who I'd seen in magazines, but by no means was I model type material like the one standing on the elevator with us either. Plus, I wasn't here to get a guy. And isn't that funny, because my husband said I'd be interested.

The elevator door opened again and we were at the lobby. Bryce and Lacy quickly walked out first. He looked back at me, smiled, and mouthed, “Enjoy the show.” The other four girls walked out in front of me as well, heading straight for a chubby guy about five eight with a bunch of badges around his neck.

After I watched Melvin hand out all of the badges except one, I strolled up to him and said, “I'm Shari McCray.” I sort of whispered it so as not to draw too much attention to myself.

There were about thirty people around us. I figured I could blend in and not need to get introduced to everyone there. But Melvin gave me a big squeeze. He then twirled me around and everyone looked our way.