Born at Dawn, page 23
“Tú eres el jefe. You are the boss. Do you understand that? You’re not supposed to be running around like that now. You make a couple of key signature dishes for the prestigious guests and tell your kitchen staff to do the rest,” Cheo explained like he owned a restaurant.
Cynthia lurched up from the reclined passenger seat and stared at Cheo like he had two heads. “Wasn’t it you who said I need to work hard, and now you’re telling me to take it easy?”
“I meant do some interviews, a segment on Good Morning, Virginia, go online, set up a Facebook page; you know, try to promote the restaurant in a positive way. I didn’t mean run around like a chicken sin un cabeza.” Cheo drew his arms up and in close to his sides then began bouncing around wildly like a chicken whose head had just been chopped off. “That’s how you look,” he said, laughing between arm flaps.
“Next time you need to be clear. Besides, Sabor is my baby. I can’t have just any ol’ body working on the meals. I just have to be hands on.”
“Then you’re going to have to get used to being tired,” he said, resting one hand on her thigh, “and I’m going to have to get used to picking you up.”
They pulled into Riverside’s parking lot. Cheo got out and opened the door for her. Cynthia’s legs shook like a boxer who’d just been caught with a left hook. Cheo scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the elevator.
Cynthia flung her arms around him and embraced the moment with her head nuzzled against his strong neck. She took in deep swallows of his rustic cologne and tried to forget about the pressures of the day on the ride to the sixth floor.
“Cheo, how on earth can I repay you for your kindness and generosity?” she whispered into his ear as they approached her door. Cynthia let her bottom lip hit his earlobe after every word. She wasn’t trying to incite a riot. She was trying to get at least a midnight kissing session to cap off the sheer romanticism and excitement that being carried to her door caused.
Cheo lowered her to the ground, looked into her eyes, and very solemnly said, “You can be ready for church on time tomorrow. I’m tired of sitting in the back row.”
Cynthia rolled her eyes and shook her head at Cheo. “Does it matter where we’re seated? Church is not like my restaurant; you’re not going to get a different meal prepared based on where you’re seated. Whether you’re in the back row or in the first pew, the pastor has the same Word for us all.”
“Sitting in the front is way different from sitting in the back. It’s like . . .” Cheo paused then waved both of his hands at her. “Awww, forget it. You wouldn’t understand. You don’t even care about the Lord one way or the other.”
Cynthia folded her arms across her chest, shifted her weight onto one foot, and cocked her head to the side. “Isn’t my relationship with Jesus supposed to be personal?”
Cheo nodded.
“Then why are you all up in it?”
Cheo smacked himself on the forehead. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I? I’m only concerned because I love you, Cynthia, and to be honest, it really drives me crazy to see how ungrateful you are considering all the Lord has done for you.”
“Done for me? What did he do for me, Cheo?” she asked angered by his assumption that God had done something for her. “Where was He when I was struggling and really needed Him? I mean needed Him so desperately; I could have been dead. You tell me where He was then, and I’ll tell you how grateful I should be.”
“It looks like you’re still alive to me. How did you make it out if it weren’t for the Lord who I know is on your side? He was always there.”
“You don’t know anything, I mean anything, about my life,” she said emphatically.
“Cause me to know. I want to know,” he pleaded.
Rolling her eyes to avoid direct eye contact, Cynthia blurted, “He used to beat me. Cheo, I was black and blue and all bruised up.”
Cheo grabbed Cynthia in an embrace. “How long did you suffer through that?”
“Too long.” She looked into Cheo’s eyes and could feel the judgments forming in his head. “It’s not as easy as people think to get out of an abusive relationship, especially when you love the person.”
“Love?”
“At one point I did love him.” Cynthia paused, contemplating confessing it all. The weary look in Cheo’s eyes declared tonight would not be a good one to reveal that she was married with children.
“I tried to work things out. I tried to wait on God, but in the end He didn’t deliver me. I just had to run away.”
“There’s one thing I do know.” He held her by the shoulders, creating a little bit of space between them. “Even if He didn’t work out the situation according to your desire or show up at the time you appointed to Him, He died for you. Don’t you think you ought to give Him credit for that?”
“What do you want me to do, stand on a crate on Hull Street and start preaching? Or maybe you’d rather see me in a knee-length satin suit and one of those ridiculous hats prancing around.” Cynthia began hopping back and forth on each foot, mimicking the praise and worship stomp she’d seen the women do at church every Sunday.
Cheo rested his hand on her shoulder putting an end to her mockery. “Cynthia, I can’t pretend to know what happened to you, especially when you won’t share it, but if you ask God to soften your heart and help you to forgive whoever it was who did you wrong, if you ask Him to forgive you of all your sins, and ask Him to have mercy on you for doubting Him, I’m sure you’ll be able to find peace again.”
“The only peace I want right now is a piece of cake. You want some?”
“I’ll pass.”
“Fine. More for me. Listen, why don’t you let me work on my issues with Jesus on my own, and you deal with whatever you have to?” Cynthia turned her back on Cheo and unlocked her apartment door.
Behind the veil of the door, she did something she had not done in a long time.
“Lord, Cheo said if I ask you’d forgive me of my sins, but there isn’t forgiveness for what I’ve done is there?”
Although she’d fought Cheo tooth, nail, and little bit of elbow after lying awake all night waiting for God to answer her, she hungered for his knock on the door, a welcomed reprieve from these walls and her demons the church could not provide for her. Like clockwork, Cheo showed up knocking on her door at seven o’clock with the high hopes of making it to the nine o’clock service. Much to his surprise, Cynthia was already dressed in a paisley-print suit with a plain white blouse. Her hair was slicked back in a traditional ponytail. She’d forfeited her makeup on account of the sweat-inducing service that Healing and Prophecy held.
Cheo had become the most dependable thing in her life. Cynthia still longed for the companionship of a girlfriend, one she could shop with, get pedicures with, and share the burden of her secret with. In her three and a half years in Richmond, Cynthia had failed miserably at launching any new friendships.
Recently, Cheo had been prompting her to join the singles’ ministry or the women’s ministry so she could have some contact with actual people rather than spending her evenings talking to flambéed ducks. He told her that might prevent her from spiraling into the funnel of depression that sucked her in whenever he went on a business trip. Cynthia shied away from those events because they were held in the confines of the church’s basement. Those quarters were way too close for her to hide from the Holy Ghost.
They entered the church at 8:55 and were able to attain the last two coveted seats in the front row. Cynthia rubbed her hand along the plush purple upholstery that now lined the seats of the pew. Cynthia was glad to see that the church had been using her tithe money properly.
Usually the service opened with what they called devotion and what Cynthia considered fanfare. Instead this Sunday’s pastor, Pastor Wyatt, walked straight up to podium and dived into his sermon. “Good morning, saints. We have got to be careful. The Word says, ‘woe unto them who think they are something when really they are nothing,’” Pastor Wyatt shouted into the microphone, interrupting the mental inventory Cynthia was taking of all the upgrades they’d made to the church since she started attending it. “The Lord doesn’t need you to do anything. He is the beginning and the end. His Word is already settled in heaven. Whatever minor task He used you to do was already established long before you considered doing it, and had you not done it as Mordecai told Esther, he would have raised up another. Amen?”
“Amen,” the congregation responded.
Crossing her legs and folding her arms across her chest, Cynthia tuned into Pastor Wyatt’s sermon.
He casually took a sip from the glass of water the first lady had just placed beside him and dabbed his mouth dry with a white handkerchief. Cynthia’s eyes fastened on his diamond-studded pinky ring. She could not believe he was preaching humility with an iced-out pinky ring.
“Some of you sheep have gone astray. I mean you have forgotten who the good Shepherd is and have turned to your own way seeking pasture.”
Cynthia let out a loud yawn to let everyone know she was bored. Cheo glanced at her with that “what is wrong with you, girl” look in his eyes and scooted over a bit closer to Mother Goodard to create a little distance between them.
Feigning innocence, Cynthia shrugged and whispered, “Sorry.” And truly she was sorry she’d let Cheo drag her down here once again, and all Pastor Wyatt was doing was taking that “reduce, reuse, recycle” mantra to heart, rehashing the same old topic, the will of God. Here and there, he switched out a word or two or started off with a different scriptural reference, but he was always on the same topic. Cynthia had gotten weary of waiting for a miraculously divine healing to take place or for Pastor Wyatt to issue a divinely prophetic word to the congregation beyond the textbook “Jesus is going to turn this whole situation around in your favor.”
“You know a wicked and perverse generation seeketh a sign. Why are you looking for miracles when you just being alive is miraculous? Jesus could have let Satan have you a long time ago, yet you still doubt God’s plan and the Word coming from God’s man. You better shake yo’self,” Pastor Wyatt said, shaking his thick, manicured hands.
Cynthia looked up to the ceiling, raising one eyebrow to form an arch as if to say, “I see what you’re doing, Jesus.”
Many of the members jumped out of the pews, shaking their arms, legs, and toddlers. Cynthia peeked at Cheo who sat perfectly still convinced that the spirit of God was in this place. “Goody two-shoes,” Cynthia murmured, sucking her teeth. Halfheartedly Cynthia rolled her shoulders and tried to make room in her weather-beaten heart for the Word that was coming forth.
“He wants to lead you to still waters, but you’d rather dig in the sand to find your own because it’s taking too long to walk to the path that the Lord says leads to green pastures. You’re not God. You don’t set the time for deliverance. He frees you.”
“Hallelujah!” the first lady shouted, stomping her silver pumps on the floor.
“Some of you in here are just ‘churching,’ looking good, trying to sound good. You shake my hand after the service and kiss my wife on the cheek knowing you’re living a lie. This is not the life God intended for you, and if you don’t turn back to Him, you’re going to remember.” Pastor Wyatt stepped away from the pulpit, walked down from the altar, and into the aisles. He stomped his shoes into the ground. “I said, you are going to remember where you came from. God is going to cause you to recall why you called upon Him in the first place.”
Pastor Wyatt paraded up and down the floor. He dragged his hand across his brow and flung the sweat off it. “It’s getting hot in here. Can you feel that Holy Ghost fire burning?” he asked. The congregation clapped in agreement.
Cynthia looked at her watch, wondering when the theatrics would stop. Pastor Wyatt picked up the pace again after stripping out of his heather gray double-breasted blazer and got back into his Holy Ghost processional.
“He’s going to cause you to know that you don’t rule over anything,” he said, stopping directly in front of Cynthia. “My Lord,” “Have mercy, Lord,” and “Bless her, Lord,” rang throughout the congregation. The longtime members of Divine Healing and Prophecy knew when the Holy Spirit was on Pastor Wyatt like that, and he stopped in front of you if that Word was for your life.
The pastor extended his hand for Cynthia to hold. He got down on one knee. “The road you’re on will lead you to destruction if you don’t turn around now.”
Cynthia contorted her mouth to the side, a gesture that said, “I don’t believe you.”
“He that hardens his heart shall be broken without remedy. Are you sure you can stand that pain, sister?”
Cynthia rose to her feet. The congregation held its breath, awaiting her response. She looked down at Pastor Wyatt still on bent knee. “If you’re really a prophet, then you should already know I have boxed with the devil. I lost a few rounds, but not the whole bout. What more could happen to me?” Tears washed her face as she recalled each blow, kick, broken rib, black eye, and bloody nose on top of the profane words Marvin spat at her daily that normally wouldn’t even be spoken to a dog.
She looked at Cheo as he sank as low as he could into the pew. She could tell from the frown on his face that he wished they’d sat in the back now.
“Corre,” he mouthed to her. Cynthia squinted trying to make out what Cheo was whispering.
“Run,” he mouthed to her in English this time. His smoky eyes begged her to run and spare them both of the embarrassment that was to come if she stayed another minute. Gracefully she reached in the pew for her purse, slowly draped it over her shoulder, sauntering up the aisle and out the doors of Dayspring Church of Divine Healing and Prophecy.
Chapter 40
Cynthia only looked back once. She wanted Cheo to run after her. Hold her and caress her. The bluntness of Pastor Wyatt’s revelation even though it was coated in courtesy and the glare of the onlookers had crushed her heart. She was bold yet fragile. She presented the grit and grime of the cement-paved sidewalks in New York on the exterior. Inside her heart was just as soft as the dirt of a back country road. Yet Cheo remained glued to the pew.
Marvin would not have just sat there, she thought. His foolish pride would have made him jump to Cynthia’s defense, regardless of who he had to confront. Cheo, on the other hand, dared not jeopardize his membership and relationship with God for Cynthia; at least, not today.
“Now how am I going to get to Sabor?” She sighed once she realized she’d left her ride sitting inside the church. The bus wasn’t an option since she didn’t know the schedule, and unlike the Metropolitan Transit Authority in New York, buses ran on schedule down in Virginia.
Sucking up what was left of her defiance, she began the trek to Sabor. The drive from the church on West Duval to East Main Street on a normal day took seven minutes. The walk would take at least twenty minutes.
When she arrived at Sabor, Cheo was pulling into the lot behind her. She could hear the gravel crunching under his car wheels and see the reflection of Cheo’s car in the restaurant windows. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to turn around.
“Cynthia,” he called out to her.
She froze at the sound of his voice. “This is all your fault.”
“This is not my fault,” he shouted from the parking lot. Although he was trying to speak to her in tough tone, his reflection betrayed him. Cynthia could see the hurt and confusion in his eyes.
“It is not my fault that you’re a fugitive on the run from God. You can hide from me as long as you want. You can’t hide from God, Cynthia. You just can’t. It’s impossible.”
“It’s so easy for the righteous to judge what they only see.”
“Mi amor, I’m not trying to judge you.”
“Then why did you take me to that church for all of that foolery? A, to show me off; B, to mock me; C, to save me; or D, all of the above?”
“How about none of the above,” he said, walking toward her. With each step he took toward her, she moved forward. “I took you there because I didn’t want to do a single thing without you. I want to share my whole life with you, Cynthia, including my God.”
Cynthia backed up as far she could until the closed doors of Sabor stopped her. His breath massaged her skin. Toe to toe they stood staring in each other’s eyes. “Cynthia, I want to marry you. I love you. Why can’t you believe that?”
Tears began to stream down her cheeks. “My heart has been trampled on too many times for it to be of good use to me or anybody else,” she explained through tears.
“Whatever happened to you, I promise I won’t do that to you, but you’ve got to trust me and the God that lives in me.” Cheo stooped down and planted a kiss on Cynthia’s lips.
“Cheo.” Cynthia wiped the corners of her mouth and looked into those sultry eyes. “I can’t marry you. I’m not fit. Didn’t you hear Pastor Wyatt? The road I’m on leads to destruction.”
Scratching the back of his neck, Cheo asked, “Then why don’t you get off? Ring the bell. Request the next stop and walk with me.”
Cynthia reached up and traced the hard angles of his jaw with her fingertips. Her hands shook in fear this would be the last time she’d ever get that close to him again. “It’s just not that easy. It’s almost time for the lunch crowd, and I’ve got another day completely booked. Cheo, I have to go.” Her hand grazed his chest before walking away. “I’ve done things that there is no excuse for.”
“Cynthia, why don’t you ask for forgiveness and be free?”
“Abuse creates a cycle, and I don’t know how to break free. When I came here, I thought that was what I was doing, but . . . but . . . I don’t even know who I am anymore. I know who I used to be.”
I used to be a mother. I used to be a wife. The truth was perched on the tip of her tongue prepared to dive out.
“Stop living in the past; stop living in what he’s done to you and just come to me.” Cheo scooped her up in a tight embrace. He began pecking her lips slowly over and over. “I don’t care about who you were. I am in love with who you are now,” he declared.
