Righteous Ways, page 9
Mekhi texted me.
I am worried.
I texted back.
YOU LIED TO ME!
My phone was silent. I could see him standing there scratching his head, trying to figure out what I was talking about, or maybe even trying to figure out which lie he’d been caught in.
Men. I hated them.
Traffic moved and I pulled into the exit lane and got off the Interstate. I traveled through on backstreets until I reached my destination. The West Village. Retail therapy had always been the right medication when I was sick. I’d get a bag or some shoes or something that would remind me that I had money. Money made it okay.
I pulled into a parking spot and willed myself to get out of the car. I looked at my phone. Mekhi hadn’t texted back. He was liar and he knew it. He didn’t even have anything to say.
I spent hours browsing racks through blurry vision marred by heartsick tears. My mother wasn’t speaking to me and Ebony didn’t understand me. I didn’t have anyone in my life if I didn’t have Mekhi.
No Mekhi.
The thought made me sick. I rushed into a fitting room, locked the door and sat. I cried. I cried because I was scared. Scared of jail. Scared of losing my man. Scared because I didn’t have a plan.
“I know the plans I have for you.”
I turned my head. Had someone uttered something in the booth next door? I was still as I listened. The booth was empty. There was no one there.
I repeated the words in my mind...I know the plans I have for you. I recalled that was part of a scripture. I reached into my bag for my phone and pulled up a Bible app. I keyed the words and searched. Jeremiah 29:11 popped up.
For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.
I raised my head and bit my lip. God has a plan for me. I looked back down at the screen. I didn’t even know for sure what that meant, but I wanted it. I wanted a future. I wanted hope.
“Tell me what to do, God?” I whispered. “I don’t know how to trust you. I don’t know how to trust Mekhi. I don’t know how to trust anyone.”
An image of my father pushed through my memory into my mind. I pressed my eyelids closed against the pain from the first man who’d broken my heart. Was I going to have some kind of psychotherapy right here in the fitting room? I didn’t want to. I wasn’t ready to bleed from the gut. This was about Mekhi and needing something to hold onto when I stepped behind those bars. I looked down at the screen again and cried, “Tell me what to do. If you tell me...I’ll do it.”
My cell phone vibrated. I swiped at the screen. There was a text from Mekhi.
I love you. Come home.
Come home. I repeated the words in my head. Home was with Mekhi. That’s what he felt like every time he put his arms around me. But we were going to talk, possibly fight. There was no way around it. I stood and wiped my eyes. God had spoken. I had promised to listen, so no matter the outcome with my husband, home was where I was supposed to be.
Chapter Fifteen
The fight was going to have to wait. I found Mekhi in his office. The phone was on speaker and I made out the voice of Omar Devlin, Mekhi’s publicity manager. Mekhi raised a hand and pumped his fingers to indicate he needed five minutes. I went into the great room, shed my coat and took a seat. I looked up at the empty Christmas tree and thought about all the empty promises my life held. My father’s leaving, my mother’s horrible parenting and Mekhi’s betrayal. Everyone who was supposed to take care of me had failed. Even I had failed when I got myself in the current situation I was in. And there was God...God took my baby.
I wasn’t sure there was a happily-ever-after scenario for me, but I had a hope and a future and I was going to fight for both. The Billboard magazine was on the end table next to me. I picked it up. I couldn’t escape this stupid picture. I could no longer ignore what it implied. If I was going to have a hope and a future with Mekhi Johnson, he and I were going to have to talk.
I reached into my bag and pulled out the pack of cigarettes. My nerves were shot and I needed to clear my head. The last time we’d had a difficult conversation, he’d put a hole in the wall and I ended up in early labor.
Mekhi entered the room. He made his approach to where I was sitting. He stood over me and I saw relief and then annoyance flicker across his face. He didn’t look like a man that was coming to defend a lie. “Smoking, Sammie? Don’t you think that’s a pathetic habit to pick up at your age?”
“It’s not a habit.”
Mekhi reached up and scratched the back of his head. “You’ve been doing it for at least a month.”
I didn’t appreciate the fact that he hadn’t mentioned it, and my tone said so. “I wasn’t sure you noticed.”
His voice changed. It was deeper when he said, “I notice everything about you.”
Seduced by those words, I hesitated for a moment. “You didn’t ask about it?
“I’ve been waiting for you to give it up on your own, but now that you’re doing it in front of me...” He let his words hang in the air.
I raised an eyebrow. “No thought that I was hanging around with a man who smoked?”
Mekhi frowned, but he looked certain. “You’re a grown woman, Sammie. You know what you should and shouldn’t be doing. I also trust you.”
The magazine caught my eye again. Benxi’s words had cut me deep, but I trusted Mekhi. Right? I wondered when I started caring more about fidelity than money. What had happened to the Samaria who used men for what they could do for me?
I looked into his eyes and knew what happened. Friggin’ love. That Samaria had got sucked into Mekhi Johnson’s spell. “You won’t have to endure my smoke much longer.”
I raised the cigarette and drew another puff.
Mekhi’s eyes dropped to the magazine on my lap and then he raised them back to me. “What’s this talk about a lie? Where have you been? What’s going on?”
Now my eyes dropped to the magazine. All I could see was Benxi. I put out the cigarette out on her face, then tossed the magazine on the ottoman in front of me. “I’m upset.”
Mekhi moved the magazine and sat down. He took my hands. “Is there really a problem here, or are you trying to pick a fight?”
“I’m not trying to pick a fight. I have less than a week.”
Mekhi sighed. “You think you need to tell me that? I know that.”
He didn’t get to be frustrated with me today. I was as annoyed with him as he was with me. “It seems as if my fear of jail is getting to be too much for you to stomach.”
Mekhi cocked an eyebrow. He gave me a hard stare for a few seconds. “Where did that come from?”
I didn’t answer. I sat there wringing my hands like a child. I looked up at the bare Christmas tree. Empty promises. Mekhi’s eyes followed mine and his look softened.
“I’m always emotional this time of year and now I’m going away and I can’t get my head together.”
Mekhi’s words came out in carefully measured beats. “I understand that you’re stressed, but baby, you confessed. You were the one who didn’t want a trial.”
Something snapped inside of me. “You’re stressed ‘cause you confessed. Stressed ‘cause you confessed...” I sang bitterly. I dropped my head and banged my fist against my forehead. Then I stood and screamed, “Maybe you should put those lyrics to music and drop it on a rap album.”
We were both quiet for a long time. Finally, he spoke. “Are we done talking about this?”
“No.” My emotions were heated, but my voice was cool. “Say something. Tell me what you think. We haven’t really talked in months, so let’s talk about how you feel.”
“How I feel?” Mekhi shook his head. “I don’t feel anything that I haven’t already told you.”
I picked up the Billboard magazine and stared at the picture again. Benxi squatting between his legs, a submissive hand on his knee. Her fantasies that they would be like Alicia Keys and Swizz Beatz were all over her face. They had been in her words this morning. I pushed it into his chest. “I didn’t want a trial because I didn’t want to drag you and the label through the bad publicity.”
He took the magazine from my hand. “I didn’t ask you to sacrifice yourself for this business.”
“Aren't you glad you didn't have to ask?”
“Airamas would have stood.” I could tell it was a struggle for him to keep his voice even.
“You couldn’t have known that.”
Mekhi raised a hand to back of his neck and rubbed. He always did that when he was trying to keep his cool. “I couldn’t have known? I knew what I put into this album. I knew the potential of it.” He slammed the magazine down on the floor. “Benxi has three songs in the top ten on the Billboard 100 right now. UMC may complain about public image, but at the end of the day, all they care about is money. I knew what this album was...” He grit his teeth and stopped.
I crossed my arms. It was time for him to say it. I knew he was holding the words in. “No, go ahead and get it out. It’s obvious that we’ve been walking around this topic. We need to get everything out in the open before I go away.”
Mekhi didn’t hesitate. “I told you to let me handle the legal stuff. I had a good lawyer and I had a plan to help get you off, but you went and confessed and made a deal without me.”
“I told you so. Seriously, is that all you have for me?”
“Yeah. That's all I’ve got, because at the end of the day I know what the real issue is.”
I folded my arms. “Enlighten me.”
Mekhi slowly walked through the room past our framed wedding and honeymoon pictures. He turned in my direction, opening and closing his fists like he wanted to hit something.
Not wanting to wait anymore, I pressed. “Tell me. Tell me what you believe.”
“Don't you know?” He hesitated. “Trust.” The word hung in the air like the scent from my cigarette smoke. “You don't trust me and that's my fault.”
This conversation was turning into the big reveal. I waited for him to go on.
“You trusted me to keep you out of jail once. I failed you. You had to handle things by yourself. So, why would you put your faith in me again? You did what you had to do. Again.”
I couldn’t respond. I was shocked at his words. “I hadn’t even thought of it that way.” I let out a long breath.
Of course, Mekhi wanted to be my savior. Not only had I not allowed him to, but I’d completely castrated him handling things myself. I had regrets. I regretted that I made that decision while I was recovering from the death of the baby. I was emotional.
Mekhi pulled me to him. “I don’t mean to make this about me.”
I folded into his body. “But it is about you. I chose for us and that wasn’t right. I’m your wife. I shouldn’t have chosen without talking to you.”
He pressed his forehead against mine. “We’re going to survive this. You and I have been separated much longer than a year.”
I nodded agreeably, remembering the prior years that I hadn’t even been speaking to him. Interesting that jail pulled us apart and now it was pulling us together. The parallel was scary.
I don’t want to lose you, Mekhi. I don’t want to lose our life together. I wanted to say it, but I was afraid to even do that, so I did what I always did when I was running from my words. I placed my mouth on his. We made love with our lips.
Mekhi stopped before we went further and asked, “Why did you call me a liar?”
I sighed. That question had killed the romance. I moved away from him. “I talked to Benxi this morning.”
I heard Mekhi swallow. “This morning. How? Where?”
“I went to see her at the studio,” I said. “She told me you broke up with her because of UMC. That they didn’t want you two together.”
Mekhi nodded. “That’s partially true.”
I frowned. “Partially true? You never told me that the execs at UMC told you to dump her. You led me to believe you didn’t want to be with her.”
“I wanted to be with you,” he said. “I wanted to be with you pretty much most of my life, but you weren’t talking to me.”
“Don’t move away from the subject. Your breakup with her. What happened?”
“I was never serious about Benxi. She was business. I needed to close the deal. I knew she was feeling me, so I closed it the way I knew would work.”
She wasn’t lying. I threw up my hands and turned my back to him.
“I used her.” Mekhi’s voice was strong and hard behind me. “She was young and I took advantage of that. Would I still be down with her if you hadn’t come back into my life?” He grabbed my arm and turned me to face him. “No, because the label execs told me to end it before it became a problem. UMC’s people made it easier for me to let her down.”
I snatched my arm back. “No, Mekhi, UMC’s people made it easier for her to hold out hope that you two had something and the timing was just bad for it.”
Mekhi started to speak, but I raised a hand to stop him. “She wanted me to know that she would make sure you would be in good hands while I’m away.”
Mekhi grimaced. “What?”
“It began with, she would do the slut-walk for you and ended with her saying she loved you.”
“Baby, I’ve given Benxi nothing to make her think I would go that way with her ever again.”
I nodded. “Mekhi, I need to say this and I need you to hear me. I love you and I trust you as much as I believe a woman can possibly trust a man, but I also know you are a man.”
Mekhi shook his head. “How many times...”
“Hear me out!” I was trembling as I stuck my finger into this chest. “I’m not giving you permission to cheat on me, but if you find yourself in a situation where you must have some woman while I’m gone... Do Not Let It Be Her.”
Mekhi stepped away from me. He put his hands in his pockets. My words were flaring his temper, but I didn’t care.
“Not her.”
I took a few steps and closed the space he’d put between us. He dropped his head. I lifted his chin with a finger and put my lips on his. “Not her,” I whispered.
Mekhi pulled me into his arms and kissed me. Tears spilled down my cheeks as he made quick work of removing my clothes and then his own. We made love, clinging to each other like it was the last time. Like today was December 26th at 12:50 p.m. When we were done, he pulled me against his chest and kissed my forehead. “I love you, Sammie.”
I raised my eyes to his and whispered, “I love you too.” But in my soul I repeated my plea. Not her.
Chapter Sixteen
I had four days before I would no longer be a free woman. I lived in a small mansion that included six restrooms. My master bathroom was the size of some of those tiny houses they showed on HGTV. I was going to be confined to an 8 x 5 cell and public showers. I stood from my vanity, walked over to the toilet to vomit, but nothing came up. I couldn’t vomit up the torment in my spirit. It was like the knife of a blade and nothing or no one could remove it.
I fell down on the toilet seat lid and cried out. “God, give me strength.”
I was on the list to volunteer at the shelter today, but I decided I wasn’t going to go. There was no school so there wasn’t any need for the afterschool program. I convinced myself that they could do without me and I was far too depressed to contribute anything of any worth to anyone. I had hit a new emotional low.
“I have to get on the other side of this,” I said to myself. “On the other side of this is the rest of my life, with my husband, in this house, maybe a –” My voice trailed off, but I thought what I would not utter. Maybe a baby.
I laughed at myself. I knew I was desperate for normalcy. Since when did I want a child? Melia had been an accident. She wasn’t planned.
“I don’t even like kids,” I spoke out loud. But I was lying to myself. I did like some kids. I liked Mary Bolton, and I liked her a lot.
My cell phone rang. I started to ignore it since it wasn’t my husband’s personalized ring tone. But something said: don’t. So, I pulled myself up and rushed into the bedroom to get my phone.
Samaritan House.
They were probably making sure I was going to show. I guess they were short. That couldn’t be helped by me. I ignored it.
Two minutes later, it rang again. This time a voice mail registered. I ignored that too. I wasn’t going to let them guilt me into coming in.
A minute later a text message came through. I opened it.
This is Darlene. Emergency. Please call me.
I sat up and dialed the number. Colleen answered. The stress level in her voice was easily on ten.
“This is Samaria.”
She didn’t even say hello.
The next voice I heard was Darlene. “Samaria, please. I need your help. I’m in labor.”
“Okay, I’ll be right there.” I ended the call, sprang from the bed, dressed and flew out of the house all in under five minutes. It took me another twenty to get to Samaritan. When I arrived, an ambulance was in front of the building.
Darlene was strapped to the gurney. She reached for my hand and squeezed. “Thank you.”
She was perspiring, her hair was all over her head and her daughters were sitting on top of each other in a heap against the wall. They were terrified. More terrified than I had been when I was in my restroom less than an hour ago.
“Can you bring the girls? I can’t reach my mother-in-law. The girls can’t come in the ambulance and they can’t stay here.”
I nodded. Darlene released my hand and howled from the impact of a contraction. The EMT’s wheeled her out of the building.
Colleen was white as a ghost. I approached her. “You might need to have a seat.”
“I thought I was going to have to deliver a baby. She’s been in labor for over an hour. I don’t know what she was thinking not letting anyone know.”
I looked over at the girls. I knew what she was thinking. What would happen to her children? I extended a hand and Mary took it. Destiny squirmed out of Krissy’s grasp and wrapped her hands around my leg.
