My Soul Cries Out (14 page)

“Good old Kevin.” I lifted up my coffee mug in a toast. “You know what I miss the most about him?”

“No, but I'm afraid you're gonna tell me.”

“His warmth.”

“Yeah, Kevin's a nice guy.”

I shook my head. “Not his personality, silly. His warmth—his body heat. No amount of comforters or electric blankets can replace it. I don't care how many body length pillows I buy and snuggle up next to—there's nothing like a warm body wrapped around you at night. Kevin's a great snuggler. What if I never get married again? That means I spend the rest of my life alone, in a cold, empty bed with no one to keep me warm at night. No one to share my life with. No babies, no grandbabies. I'll be one of those old women who lives alone, mutters to herself all the time, and has fifty cats.”

Alaysia laughed. “You're allergic to cats.”

“Fifty dogs, then.” I frowned. “They never have a bunch of dogs. You ever notice that? Why do they always have a houseful of cats?”

“It's definitely time to go to bed. No more mini-bar for you. I can see it's not safe to leave you unsupervised.”

Must have been the alcohol. That night I dreamed about being in a huge bed with a bunch of rotten eggs and dogs. Alaysia was right. No more mini-bar for me.

E
arly the next morning, Alaysia opened the blinds and turned on the lights. She pulled my covers off. “Get up, Monnie. It's time to exercise.”

Where did she get a megaphone? I groped for my covers. “Alaysia, leave me alone. My head is killing me. Stop talking so loud.”

“Didn't nobody tell you to empty the mini-bar yesterday. It's time for a workout.”

“Don't make me hurt you.”

She pulled my covers back down and smacked my legs. “Come on. Up and at 'em.”

“If I could get up without my brain exploding, you'd be in trouble.”

“Come on. You want a piece of me?” She slapped my feet and did a little boxing dance.

“ALAYSIA!” Screaming her name nearly ripped my head open, but I hoped it would make my point.

It didn't. I felt her put something on my legs. “I picked you up some exercise clothes yesterday. I think I got them big enough to fit your big ol' butt.”

I opened one eye and glared at her through it. “You really want a beat-down this morning, don't you?”

She laughed and did some kicks and punches. “You look like you already got a beat-down from Jack Daniel's. You don't need another one from me.”

“Alaysia, let me sleep for another hour and I promise I'll do whatever you want.” I didn't plan on exercising, but I would tell her anything to make her go away.

“One hour. That's all you get. I'm gonna go do my workout. That means when you're working out, I'll be able to give all my attention to make sure you get the best workout possible.”

“Lovely. Looking forward to it.” I flipped her the bird.

“I love you, too.”

 

 

She must have decided to have mercy on me, because when I woke up on my own and looked at the clock, it was three hours later. I rolled over and she was sitting in one of her yoga positions.

“She's alive.”

“Forget you, wench.”

“You—”

“Couldn't if I tried. I know. Did you have a good workout?” I sat up and wiped the dried slob crust off my cheek.

“Yeah. I let you off the hook today, but tomorrow you don't get off so easy. You might want to avoid the mini-bar this evening.”

“Trust me. I have no intention of going near it again.”

“Get up and shower. We have to talk.”

“This sounds serious.”

“It is. Do you have any idea how many carbohydrate calories you consumed last night?”

I flopped back on the bed and pulled the covers up over my head. “No, but I'm sure you're gonna tell me.”

“I'm serious. You can't do that stuff with a sugar problem.”

“Sugar problem? You make it sound like I'm an alcoholic or something.”

“Some of us do alcohol and drugs. Others of us do Tom & Larry's.” Alaysia mimicked someone dipping a spoon into a carton, ate off the spoon, then nodded off like she'd just shot up some heroin. “We all have our different addictions.”

“Ha, ha, ha.”

“I'm not laughing. Get up and wash your tail so I can let you know the house rules.”

“House rules?” I threw the covers back and scooted to the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, rules for living in my house.”

“You trippin' now. I'm grown. My momma live in Baltimore, not Atlanta.”

“I'm your momma now. Until you lose about thirty pounds and your sugar and pressure go back to normal, you live by my rules.”

“Okay, I'ma let you have your little ego trip for a second. What do these rules entail?”

“For one, you have to follow my diet and exercise program to a tee. No whining, no complaining, and no excuses.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I'm not playing. You can only eat what I cook and buy, or what I order for you if we go out to eat.”

“What are you? The food police?”

“That's Lieutenant Food Police to you.”

“So what can I not eat?”

“No meat, no—”

“No meat? Just because you're a vegetarian doesn't mean I want to be one. I can eat low fat chicken and fish and pork and—”

“Pork?” Alaysia wrinkled her face. “There will be no swine to enter my home.”

“Fine. I'll eat meat when I eat out without you.”

“Uh-uh. I don't even want any meat farts in my house. Only pure organic vegetarian farts are allowed in my sanctuary.”

“Meat farts? What the heck is a meat fart?”

She looked at me like the meaning was obvious. “A meat fart is a fart emitted from the colon of someone who eats meat. I don't want you emitting any gaseous animal particles into the air in my abode.”

I rolled my eyes. “What else can't I have?”

“No white flour, no white sugar—”

“No sugar? You know how much I love sweets. I thought the whole goal was moderation. I thought when you diet you're supposed to still eat foods you enjoy, but not as much.”

“I didn't say you had to give up sweets. I said they couldn't be sweetened with white sugar. There are other ways to make things sweet.”

“Like what?”

“Fruit sugar, stevia, raw turbinado sugar—”

I held up my hand. “Stevia? Never mind. I don't want to know.”

“I promise you're gonna love it. Oh yeah, no dairy either.”

“No dairy? What am I supposed to have on my cereal, in my coffee, with my fruit-sweetened cookies?”

“Soy milk, almond milk or rice milk. Take your pick.”

“What else, El Capitan?”

“A strenuous exercise regimen.”

“I'm afraid to ask what that consists of.”

“We'll start the day off with yoga, later do some cardio, then some light weights.”

I shook my head. “Why don't you shoot me now and get it over with?”

“Come on. Don't you trust me?”

“Promise you won't kill me.”

“Just the opposite. I'm gonna help you live.”

“Yeah, right. Any other rules, Massa?”

“That's all for now, but if I come up with any others, I'll let you know.”

“You get to make them up as you go?”

“Yep. You are mine.”

I walked into the bathroom. I was supposed to check my blood sugar when I first woke up, which technically was right now, even though it was almost noon. I hated to check it in front of Alaysia, lest I set her off on another lecture about how many carbohydrate calories I consumed. If I didn't check it, though, I couldn't eat, and I needed something to take the edge off this headache. After my binge last night, I knew it would be high. What was the point?

I did need to take my medicine, though. After monitoring my blood sugar and blood pressure for a few days, Dr. Stewart started me on the Glucophage and a blood pressure medicine. She said I could probably stop them if I lost ten percent of my body weight.

I pulled out my pill dispenser. I closed the door because I didn't want Alaysia to see me taking the pills. I hadn't bothered to mention I was taking the medicine, and knew she'd have a fit if she found out.

It was embarrassing that I let my health get to this point because I couldn't control my eating. I felt enslaved to the little pillbox in my hands and knew I didn't want to be stuck on meds for the rest of my life. Even though Alaysia's plan sounded extreme, I had to do something.

I looked at myself in the mirror.
All right, Monnie girl. You gotta get yourself together. You are not gonna be on these durn pills for the rest of your life, and you are not going to die of a stroke. You are going to treat your body like the temple it is and get this stuff under control.

I thought about Alaysia's regimen and it seemed as much bondage as being enslaved to the pills. I looked up at the ceiling.
God, you gon' have to help me.

T
he next two months flew by. We had no problem finding and training a replacement for me at Dr. Stewart's office. They had a big party for me at work to wish me well in my new life. Dr. Stewart said she hated to see me go, but had gotten the feeling I was unhappy in my position and was glad to see me moving on to something bigger and better. I tried to explain that it wasn't her office I was unhappy with, and she was the best boss I could have ever asked for. I got teary-eyed and mumbley-mouthed, but I think she got the gist of it.

Saying goodbye to my parents was difficult. They took me out to dinner at Phillips Seafood at the harbor. Their salmon was my favorite. My dad had this sad look on his face the whole night and kept asking if I was sure I wanted to go that far from home. I didn't know what my mom told him, and didn't care to ask.

My mom kept wringing her hands, patting my cheeks, and smoothing down my hair. When my dad went to the bathroom, she kissed my cheek. “Monica, I just want what's best for you, baby. Sometimes it's better for a woman to start over than to let somebody know they can get away with whatever they want to for as long as they want to. I'm proud of you for doing what's best for you.”

I bit back my tears. I felt sad for my mother and the life she chose. I had to make myself be nice to my dad for the rest of the evening. I really wanted to hit him over the head with a chair to knock some sense into him. If he only appreciated the jewel he had in my mother.

As we left, I kissed his bald head and tried to convince myself that whatever demons drove him to do what he did, over and over again, were a by-product of his childhood.

I didn't bother to call any of my friends to tell them goodbye. I hadn't talked to most of them in months anyway. They probably got tired of me never calling them back. How could I? They'd want to know what was going on, and it wasn't like I could tell them what happened between me and Kevin.

Kevin.

Every time I picked up the phone to tell him I was leaving, I ended up holding the receiver until the recording came on telling me something about hanging up if I'd like to make a call. I kept remembering him shaking rose petals all over the family room. I didn't want a repeat of that scene. Maybe I'd send him a post card or an email after I got to Atlanta.

I decided to meet him out in public. That way he couldn't make a scene. At least I hoped.

 

 

I arrived at Starbuck's early so I could get a Venti Calm tea. It was too hot outside to drink tea, but I hoped the chamomile would relax me so I could deal with Kevin.

When he got there, I could tell he took extra care to look good for me. His hair was in perfectly shaped comb twists. He wore the blue linen short set I had bought him last summer. I hoped I looked so fat and sloppy he would change his mind about wanting to stay married, and agree to a quick and quiet divorce.

I stood up to greet him. Before I could step back, he hugged me. I figured I'd at least give him that since I was about to skip town.

Bad idea. He smelled good and felt good. Brought back too many memories and stirred up too many feelings. I felt him sigh.

“Hey, Monnie.” He kissed my cheek. “I'm glad you called. I been waiting to hear from you.”

“Hey, Kevin.” I sat down and picked up my tea. I took a big swallow and prayed for the Calm to take an immediate effect. I patted the chair next to me. “Have a seat.”

I handed him the Caramel Frappucino I bought him. He had this goofy smile on his face like he knew I heard from God and was here to ask him to move back home. In a way, that was true. I was going to tell him he could move back home. The only glitch was, I wouldn't be there.

“How've you been?” He brushed his hand against my cheek.

I pulled away. He frowned.

“Good, I guess. I don't want to keep you long, Kevin. I need to tell you something.”

“What?” He started that eye-blinking thing, and I knew this wasn't going to go well.

No sense in beating around the bush. “I'm moving to Atlanta.”

His mouth dropped. He started to say something and stopped. He tried again. “When? Why? How did you decide that? Why Atlanta?”

I let out a deep breath and put my hand on his. “I'm leaving next week.” I gave him a big smile as I offered a consolation prize. “You'll be able to move back into the house.”

He shook his head. “Why, Monica? I thought you were taking some time to heal so we could get back together. I don't need to come back to the house. I'm fine at my mom's. You can take some more time if you need to.”

“I don't think it's a matter of more time. Look at me, Kevin. I'm a mess. I can't live like this anymore. I need to start over, and I need to get away from here to do that.”

“Why? I don't understand. Why can't you forgive me?”

“It's not that I can't forgive you. In my heart, I think I have. Just because I've forgiven you doesn't mean I want us to get back together. I need to move on with my life.”

“Why?”

His “whys” were getting on my nerves. He sounded like a two-year-old.

I decided to be honest. “Kevin, I've been depressed for the past few months.” I held out my arms. “Look at me. I've gained a ton of weight. Dr. Stewart diagnosed me with high blood pressure and diabetes, and I have to take all these pills and check my sugar twice a day. I have to do something drastic or I'll be doing that for the rest of my life. I'm going to this specialized spa program in Atlanta to get a handle on things.”

Okay, sort of honest.

His facial expression said I wasn't making sense. “Spa program? You're quitting your job and going to a spa?”

When he put it that way, it didn't make much sense.

“Alaysia runs her own health business down there. I'm going to help out. In exchange, she's putting me on this intense program to help me get my health in order.”

“Alaysia.” Kevin made a sour lemons face. “I should've known.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Now I understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Nothing. I know she never liked me, that's all.”

“It wasn't that she didn't like you. She just knew.”

“Knew what?”

I rolled my eyes. “About your . . . history.”

Kevin looked around at the tables near us and lowered his voice. “How?”

“I don't know. I guess from her extensive experience with men.”

“Why did you go to her about it?”

“Who would you prefer me to go to? Tracey? Regina? Janae? Shavon?”

He blinked faster as I mentioned my friends from the choir.

“I didn't think so. Trina's gone. I needed somebody to lean on.”

“What about me? I'm all alone in this.”

“That's your choice, Kevin. Your choice to live with this big secret. Your choice to keep living a lie. Or should I say Bishop Walker's choice?”

I never saw his eyes blink that fast. He chewed his fingernails. I hadn't seen him do that in a while. He usually kept them perfectly manicured.

The whir of the espresso machine and the jazz playing overhead filled the silence hanging in the air between us. Kevin ran his fingers through his comb twists. “Are you coming back after you get your health together?”

“Not if I like it there.” I hadn't given too much thought about it. All my life, I'd had a long-term plan. I decided to live in three-month chunks from now on.

“How are you going to live? Are you going to get a nursing job down there?”

“I'll be working for Alaysia. Helping to build her company.”

“You don't have to live off her. You can take our savings if you want. It'll last until you find a job.”

“I won't be living off her. I'll be working. I'm not gonna take our savings.”

“It's half yours. I don't want you to be without. I want you to be able to take some time and focus on getting your health together. I don't want anything to happen to you.” A lonely tear edged down his face.

I wiped it away. “Kevin, have you thought of seeing somebody?”

He frowned. “Seeing somebody?”

“Yeah, like a therapist or a counselor or something.”

“No, just Bishop Walker. He's been counseling me.”

I hated to imagine what those sessions were like. “What—on how to keep a secret? How to stay emotionally bound for the sake of his ministry?”

“It's not like that. Bishop Walker is like a father to me. He cares about me.”

Was he trying to convince me or himself? “All I'm saying is you might benefit from some professional therapy. You had a very traumatic life event at a young age that shaped the rest of your life. I'm not sure Bishop Walker is trained to handle that.” I really wanted to say I wasn't sure Bishop Walker was interested in truly helping him.

“No. I'm fine. I've been feeling much better since I've been talking to Bishop. I think if you would talk to him, he'd be able to help us through this much better.”

No sense in trying to get him to see. I patted his hand and stood to leave.

“I'll be waiting for you, Monica. I'll be right here when you get your health together and come back. By then, the album will be released and you won't have to go back to work.”

He looked so sad. I decided to let him hold on to his little fantasy. He'd realize after a year or two I wasn't coming back, and would hopefully move on with his life.

I bent and kissed him on the cheek. “Okay. Take care, Kevin.”

I walked out the Starbuck's door and didn't look back. All I wanted to do was think about my new life in Atlanta.