Heaven Forbid (23 page)

A week later, Stan and Passion sat in the office of a leading relationship therapist who was especially popular in religious circles because in addition to being a psychologist, Dr. Ike Banner was a seminary graduate. He’d thought that traditional ministry would be his path in life, but God had other plans. Shortly after he obtained a doctorate degree, a fledging practice, owned by one of his father’s dear friends, practically landed in his lap. He’d honed his skills in the quiet town of Bend, Oregon, for twenty years before relocating to Rancho Palos Verdes ten years ago.

If there was any doubt that his practice was different, his first three words after initial introductions eliminated all doubt. “Shall we pray?”

Stan and Passion looked at each other briefly, smiled, and joined hands with the doctor. After a brief but heartfelt prayer, the three sat in Dr. Banner’s neatly appointed office.

“Thank you for filling out the questionnaires prior to this meeting. I know it is extensive, but I’ve found it often helps the communication process to write down our thoughts before we voice them and to hear what you believe to be the sticking point in your relationship. I find that while a therapist may assist in bringing certain matters to light, each person is inherently in touch with their own truth. It is up to you two to make the journey of reconciliation.” Dr. Banner gave a brief initial assessment based on what he’d read and then turned to Passion. “You wrote about a very acrimonious first marriage and divorce, and then being celibate a large part of your life before meeting Stan. How do you think these experiences have affected the way you approach sex in this marriage?”

“Sex was used as a weapon in my first marriage,” Passion began, grateful to unburden thoughts and words that had been lived but not uttered. “By both of us. There was very little intimacy during the last two years we were together, and from the time I became pregnant until we divorced, none at all.

“I recommitted my life to Christ after the divorce, and encouraged by Stan’s teachings”—Passion looked briefly at her husband—“vowed to remain celibate until I remarried. I was divorced for six years before Stan and I married. So…I would say that the effect celibacy had on me was that I very much wanted an active sex life when I got married.”

Doctor Banner made notes while Passion spoke. When she finished, he simply nodded and turned his head to Stan.

“Stan, you write that you were molested as a child. How do you feel this violation impacted your sex life?”

Stan looked at Passion and then back at the doctor. “In every way. Being molested from the age of eight until I turned twelve impacted not only my sex life, but also my whole life.”

“I know this is difficult, Stan. But we’re going to keep talking, day after day, week after week, month after month if we have to—until we get a breakthrough. Tell me about this aunt who molested you.”

Stan stared hard at the doctor, but when he answered, he looked at Passion. “I can tell you about my aunt, but in truth, the person who molested me was my uncle.”

In the forty years since the abuse began, Stan had never been totally honest about what had happened all those years ago. Whenever he’d recounted his abuse story, he’d said it was a woman who’d molested him. He’d repeated the lie so many time until sometimes he’d convinced himself that it was true. But seeing Bryce after all these years forced him to revisit the painful memories he’d buried.

“It was a man, not a woman, who abused you?” Doctor Banner asked.

“He would make me take off my clothes—” Stan paused and looked at Passion before looking away, out the window and into a distant past—“and then make me put on women’s underwear. Then he would…make me do things.”

Passion swallowed a gasp as realization dawned. The panties that she’d so smugly thrown in his face at the restaurant were part of the residue that remained from his childhood trauma. Instinctively, she reached out a hand and placed it on Stan’s arm. He flinched but didn’t pull away.

Doctor Banner’s voice lowered to almost a whisper. “Why did you tell your last therapist it was your aunt who abused you?”

“You know why.”

“There could be many reasons, Stan.”

“I’m a Christian, Doctor, a pastor. To be molested by a woman is bad enough, but to be assaulted by a man, well, it would change how my members view me, how the world views me. That’s why no one will ever know.”

Stan took Passion’s hand. “Thank God I’ve been delivered, Doctor, and have a supportive wife in my life. So that those things from the past can stay in the past.”

“But are they in the past?” Doctor Banner probed. “Or are they in the present, interfering with you and your wife’s intimacy and driving a wedge into your marriage?”

When the Lees returned home, there was a FedEx package waiting just inside the storm door. It was addressed to Stan, sent from an LA address. He went into his study to check phone messages and e-mails. Once he’d finished that, he opened the package. He recognized the writing at once.

“Don’t be nervous.” Carla reached over and gave Princess a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m not,” Princess replied.

Carla looked pointedly at Princess’s rapidly shaking leg.

“It’s just a habit,” Princess said, laughing.

“Uh-huh.”

In actuality, Princess was more excited than nervous. The last two months had gone by in a whirlwind: finals, graduation, and now this—the debut of her first book. She’d been too busy to think about all that was going on and what could potentially happen once the book released. But she was getting ready to find out.

Lavon spoke into Carla’s earpiece. “You look beautiful, baby. I’m gonna tear you up tonight.”

Carla smiled and discreetly gave him a sign to cut it out. He knew she couldn’t respond, because even though they weren’t yet rolling, the audience members were all staring at her, and her mike could go live anytime. The spontaneity experienced in the studio was one of the treats that awaited the lucky guests who obtained tickets to her always-in-demand tapings. That this show would air live was an even more spectacular event.

Princess looked out into the audience and smiled at her mother. Tai smiled back, as did the twins, Tee and Timothy, and her aunt Vivian. Several friends from college, including Princess’s roommate Sarah, sat nearby, as did Joni and Brandon. A few rows behind them, editor Serena and publicist Adele from the publishing company sat beaming like proud parents. Princess’s newly hired agent, Natalie, typed rapidly into her BlackBerry.

The assistant director quieted the studio audience. The director counted down and pointed to Carla.

“Good morning, afternoon, evening, whenever you’re tuning in. Baby, we have a fantabulous show for you today, introducing an exciting new author and her debut novel. I’m excited about this book for several reasons. But most of all, I’m excited because in reading this memoir, I believe spirits will be lifted and lives will be changed.

“In an age when so many young people are trying to live the thug life, or get sexed up, or go after the bling, there are a group of young people out there who are holding it down for their generation and trying to make a difference. Please help me welcome one of them—Princess Brook.”

The general audience applauded politely. Princess’s friends and family showed their enthusiasm. Once the applause died down, Carla continued. “Let’s get right into it, Princess, starting with the title of your book,
Jesus Is My Boo.
” Carla turned toward the audience. “Everybody in here knows what a ‘boo’ is, right? Your sweetheart, your main squeeze, your number-one man?” Some audience members laughed, others nodded. “How did that title come about?”

Princess looked out at the audience. “I guess it happened after I dumped my cheating boyfriend and fell back in love with Christ.”

Those forty-four television minutes went by faster than Princess could have imagined. The interview was easy. Talking to Carla was like talking to one’s best friend. She made it easy for Princess to share the painful details of that first year on campus, and she celebrated with her as she provided sketches of her comeback. As her agent, publicist, and Carla had suggested, she gave out just enough information to lure those watching into buying her book. Viewers knew she’d been cheated on but would have to read the book to learn that the other woman got pregnant around the same time Princess had an abortion. Tears on the faces of audience members let Princess know she was not alone in the pain of betrayal, with teenagers, twentysomethings, and older women as well. Midway through the show, she knew that whatever challenges she faced as a result of telling her story would be worth it. If one woman made different choices because of what she’d written, she’d deem her book a success.

“You were fabulous!” Tai said once they were back in the greenroom. “I’m so proud of you, Princess.”

“Thank you, Mama.”

“Aw, she was aw-ight,” her younger brother, Timothy, interjected.

“I told you the blue would look better on television than that sicko green you were going to wear,” Tee added in her usual, know-it-all tone.

“And you were right, little sister,” Princess said.

For the next thirty minutes, she was swamped with well-wishers. Her agent’s BlackBerry and iPhone were blowing up. Other television and radio stations were calling, as were newspapers, including
LA Gospel.
She didn’t know it, but Princess’s phone was blowing up too. By the time she’d check it an hour later, both her cell phone and her dorm phone mailboxes would be full.

“You’ve got a bestseller on your hands,” Lavon whispered to Princess when he briefly stepped into the greenroom. “Hope you’re ready for the ride.”

Kelvin sat staring at the now-muted television. He couldn’t believe the poised, confident woman he’d just watched on television was the same girl he’d turned out when she was eighteen. And was she that beautiful when they dated? He’d always thought Princess was hot, but her hair had grown longer, past her shoulders, and the loose, big curls accented her heart-shaped face. But it was her eyes that had him mesmerized from the beginning: large, brown, almond-shaped, and sparkled when she talked about her “boo.”

His ringing cell phone brought him out of his reverie. “Speak.”

“Did you see her?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.” Brandon laughed. “I bet you even TiVo’d it.”

“Who?”

Brandon couldn’t answer for laughing.

“Forget you, dog,” Kelvin said, smiling. “Damn, she looks good.”

“Even better in person. And you should have seen her after the show. Everybody in the audience got a copy of her book, and she stayed out front to sign some of them. They were clamoring for her autograph like she was already a celebrity!”

“Who is she seeing now?”

“Jesus is her boo. Did you listen to the show or just watch the images?”

“Yeah, I heard all that. But who’s she with?”

“You want to find out any of Princess’s business, buddy, you’re gonna have to wobble your crippled behind up here and ask her yourself!” Kelvin’s casts had been removed, and the doctors said his leg and arm had healed perfectly. But he was still on a crutch for the next three weeks. “Look, Joni just pulled up. I’ll hit you back later.”

Kelvin tossed his phone on the couch and reached for his TiVo remote. He went back to the segment where Princess was talking about leaving the man who’d broken her heart—talking about him. His heart clutched as he watched the tears fill her eyes and knew he’d stop at nothing until he could wipe them away.

In that moment, it all became clear. Every girl since Princess had simply been a distraction, something to make him forget that his heart already belonged to somebody else. Kelvin picked up his phone and dialed his agent.

“Look, man, get me in touch with Princess Brook. Yeah, the girl who was just on Carla’s show. I don’t care how you do it, dog—that’s why you get paid the big bucks. But don’t call me back until you either have her on the line or you have her personal phone number. I’m counting on you, bro. Don’t let me down.”

You’re my boo, Princess, nobody else’s. And I’m getting ready to make sure you realize.

Kelvin frowned as his phone beeped again. “Fawn, Little Kelvin all right?”

“Kelvin, we’re at the hospital.”

Kelvin sat up straight. “Why, what’s going on?”

“He got sick again, even sicker than last time.”

Kelvin jumped to his feet and began to pace the room. “I thought you said it was just an infection!”

“That’s what those other doctors told me. But now they’ve referred him to some specialists.” The confident arrogance Fawn usually displayed was replaced by fear.

“Where y’all at, Fawn?”

“St. Joseph’s.”

“I’m on my way.”

Several hours later, a weary-looking doctor approached Kelvin and Fawn, who were waiting in a private lounge.

Fawn rushed up to him. “Is my baby going to be okay?”

“How is he, Doc?” Kelvin asked, coming to stand next to Fawn.

“The little guy’s a fighter,” the doctor said, smiling slightly. “But we need to keep him for a few days, run further tests and try to rush the results on the ones we’ve taken so far.”

Fawn tried not to panic, with little success. “But what is it? Another infection?”

“Maybe. But we want to eliminate all other possibilities. Whatever it is, we’ve hopefully caught it in its early stages. Technology has advanced to the level where even the most serious diseases can be successfully treated. So take heart, Mom,” the doctor finished, placing a comforting hand on Fawn’s shoulder and winking at Kelvin. “We’re going to do everything possible to help your son.”