Flaw Less Page 3

  Kina swelled with pride. “Well said, cousin.”

  “At least it’s been relatively calm for the past few months,” noted Reginell. “Everybody is doing well. Lawson is trying her best to stay off my back about stripping.”

  “Lawson staying off your back isn’t the problem. It’s you we need to stay off your back,” added Sullivan.

  “Sully, do you really want to go there?” asked Angel.

  Remembering her own dirty dalliances, Sullivan retreated into silence.

  “It’s a little scary, though,” admitted Angel.

  Reginell began tinkering with her cell phone. “What is?”

  “The calm. It makes you wonder when the other shoe is going to drop.”

  Lawson peered out of the window. “Well, you know what they say . . . Either you’re going through a storm, coming out of one, or are about to enter one.”

  Just then, a loud clap of thunder and blinding flash of lightning shook the room, causing the lights to flicker. The ladies exchanged troubled glances with one another, wondering if it really had been the calm before one heck of a storm.

  Chapter 3

  “Nobody told me it would be like this.”

  —Kina Battle

  Kina came home to an empty apartment after leaving Reginell’s. Kenny was spending the night with Namon at Lawson’s house, and she would be spending the night alone with her thoughts, painful memories, and loneliness.

  She slipped out of her shoes, unfastened the belt that was restricting her stomach, and felt like herself again. Sometimes it was exhausting to keep up the fa- çade for her friends, like everything was fine in her life, but it was easier than having them worry about her or worse—feel sorry for her. Yes, she was proud to be back in school, and she knew the change of employment would do her good, but those were outward things. Inwardly, not much had changed. She was no longer at the mercy of her husband’s fist, and she had the freedom to do what she pleased, but she still struggled with her demons; only now, external demons had been replaced by internal ones.

  Kina checked her voice mail messages. There was only one from her therapist reminding her that she’d missed three appointments in a row and that it had been two months since her last session. Kina pressed delete before hearing the rest of the message.

  “What good is all that psychobabble doing me if I’m still in the same state I was in a year ago?” she wondered. “I’m still sad, still lonely, still broke. There’s no point in wasting the good doc’s time or any more of my money on therapy.”

  Kina picked up her and E’Bell’s framed prom picture, still holding its place on her mother’s hand-me-down curio. She remembered with misty eyes how happy they were that night. Back then, she couldn’t have imagined a future without him. Now, she had no choice in the matter. She sighed and put the picture back in its designated space.

  It was times like this that it was tempting to miss E’Bell. Certainly not the abuse or the assaults on her self-esteem, but having someone—anyone—there waiting for her to come home would’ve been nice.

  Kina recalled how, following E’Bell’s passing, people told her she would feel a range of emotions from anger and resentment to crushing grief. Even her therapist had warned her about intense feelings of loneliness and mixed emotions about the abuse she suffered at the hands of her husband.

  “But nobody told me it would be like this,” she said aloud. There was no one else to confide in, so Kina turned to God. “I guess it’s just you and me tonight, Lord, yet again.”

  Without Kenny there, the silence in the house was palpable. She could hear every drip from the leaky faucet, each clank from the old plumbing, even the creaking of the tattered sofa whenever she sat down on it was a constant reminder that she was utterly alone.

  “Lord, I know E’Bell wasn’t in the running for winning the Husband of the Year award. There were times when he made me laugh, and he was a source of companionship.”

  Kina looked around her empty apartment. Funny, it seemed so small when she, E’Bell, and Kenny were all crammed in there. There were many times that the wood-paneled walls felt like they were closing in on her. Now, it seemed like a huge vacuum of desolate space full of borrowed and broken furniture. It struck her as strange that two years ago, she longed for the peace and quiet she now resented.

  She picked up her NIV Bible lying next to the telephone. After flipping through a few passages, her eyes fell on the first six words of Proverbs 6:25: “Do not lust in your heart.” She cringed and tossed the Bible aside. She felt convicted, knowing that the Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John she wanted couldn’t be found between those sheets.

  Kina loved the Lord with her whole heart, but there was a void in her life that not even the most powerful scripture could fill at times like this. As much as she loved her son, Kenny couldn’t fill it either. Lord willing, Kenny would only get older, more independent. Within a couple of years, he’d be in high school, and off to college within a few more. Then she’d really be alone. Kina had her friends and her church, but what about the midnight hour when the doors of the church were locked and her friends were snuggled up next to husbands of their own?

  Deep down, Kina knew what her real problem was. Even though she’d never admit out loud, Sullivan had voiced it in jest several times before.

  “Kina, you just need some male in your life, and I don’t mean the kind that comes stamped in long envelopes either!” Sullivan had declared.

  Of course, Kina rebuked the notion, followed by scriptural quotes about sexual purity and the marriage bed being undefiled. It made her feel like a hypocrite because inside, she was siding with Sullivan. Kina wasn’t a nymphomaniac by any stretch of the imagination, but she did long to be kissed, held, touched, and to feel the weight of a man on her own body.

  “God, is it wrong to feel this way?” she asked. “Loving you is supposed to be enough, so why doesn’t it feel like it? I’m tired of pretending I don’t want a man in my life and like I’m not a real flesh-and-blood woman. While my sex life with E’Bell wasn’t the best, it did exist, which is more than I can say for my current situation.

  “You said you’d send us a comforter,” she quietly prayed. “So where is mine? Lord, I’ve tried to do right by you. I’ve done everything you’ve asked us to do in your Word. I’ve shown love to people, I’ve stayed away from sin and fornication, I go to church, and I tithe. I even started losing weight and taking better care of my body like you told me to. What more do I have to do before you do your part? You said whatever we ask for in Jesus’ name, we shall receive if we’re obedient and have faith. Well, I’ve been asking, Lord. When will it be due season for me? When will my harvest come?”

  Kina checked the time. It was only 9:00 P.M., but she figured she might as well turn in early. There was no point in staying up and being tortured by depression and disappointment. She turned off the light in her living room and prepared to take a cold shower and crawl into bed alone.

  As she peeled off her clothes, Kina caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror attached to her dresser. “Maybe it’s time to add a little ‘work’ to my faith,” she uttered, looking at her body in the mirror. She pinched her plump cheeks to bring needed color to her olive skin. She sucked in her pudgy stomach as best she could for a more flattering profile. “After all, the Lord helps those who help themselves, right?” She tried to rake her pageboy haircut into different positions to give it an edgier look.

  Not that she possessed a sense of entitlement, but Kina did feel like, as a child of the King, she should be able to get at least a few of the things she wanted out of life. Considering that God had promised to bless exceedingly, abundantly beyond anything she could imagine, she didn’t think a husband for herself and a father for Kenny was asking too much.

  Chapter 4

  “We’ve perfected phoniness so much at church and around our friends that you’re starting to believe the bull we’re putting out to the rest of the world.”

  —Sullivan Webb
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  “Charles?” called Sullivan as she entered the ornately decorated foyer of their spacious contemporary Victorian home. “Are you here?”

  “Yeah, I’m in the study,” he shouted back.

  She wasn’t surprised to find him there. Charles was spending more and more time in the study. There was a time when he would have been waiting to greet her as soon as she entered the door from one of her many shopping sprees or salon appointments. These days, however, she was more likely to be greeted by the housekeeper, Mavis, than her husband. It wasn’t that he was avoiding Sullivan; it just seemed that his life had moved on without her.

  Sullivan walked into the study and found Charles staring into his computer’s monitor from behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “Hey.”

  “Hello, sweetheart. How was dinner with the girls?”

  “The girls were great, Reggie’s dinner, on the other hand, left a lot to be desired.”

  Charles chuckled a little. “I guess you’ve got to give Sister Reggie credit for trying.”

  “She needs to try harder. I’m starving,” whined Sullivan, rubbing her hand across her toned stomach, which was a stark contrast to her husband’s portly belly. “I think there’s still some of that casserole left from yesterday. I can warm some up for you too if you’d like.”

  Charles still hadn’t taken his eyes off of the computer long enough to look at her. “No, don’t trouble yourself. I’m not really hungry.”

  “How about a bottle of water?” she offered.

  “I’m fine, Sullivan.”

  Sullivan stood by idly a little longer, waiting for him to strike up a conversation or otherwise acknowledge her existence. It didn’t take long for her to conclude that she was waiting in vain. “I think I’m going to eat, then turn in. Should I wait up for you?”

  “No, darling, you go on to bed.” He heaved himself out of the chair and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Charles seemed anxious for her to leave and slightly annoyed, which greatly annoyed her.

  Sullivan pressed her lips together and folded her spindly arms across her chest. “Are you sleeping down here again?”

  Charles hunkered back down in his seat. “This research paper is due by seven in the morning. It’s probably going to be late when I finish up here, and I don’t want to wake you.”

  “So I take that as a yes. I hate it when you sleep down here, Charles, and you know it. That bed is too big for me to be in all alone.” She curved her lips into a seductive smile and sashayed over to him. “Besides, you still haven’t seen me in the oh-so-naughty lingerie I bought last week.” She set her glossy pink lips on his neck and ran her hands through his salt-and-pepper hair.

  Charles affectionately patted her hand before pulling away. “As tempting as that sounds, I’m going to have to pass. For a few hours, at least.”

  It was an immediate blow to Sullivan’s ego, but she wasn’t going to stoop to begging, no matter how much she wanted to be near her husband that night.

  Frustrated, she snapped off the computer’s monitor. “You said you’d forgiven me, Charles,” she blurted out.

  He looked up from his computer. “What are you talking about?”

  “You said you’d forgiven me for having the affair with Vaughn.”

  “And I have. We agreed to work on our marriage, and that’s what we’re doing.”

  “Then why doesn’t it feel like it?” she snapped.

  Charles stood up and calmly faced his wife. “What does it feel like, Sullivan?”

  “It feels . . . fake and forced, and it has for the past several months. You don’t look at me the same way, you barely even touch me anymore.”

  He sighed. “Sullivan, I love you, and I’m trying, all right? It’s just going to take some time for things to get back to the way they used to be.”

  “And what are we supposed to do in the meantime?” she demanded, temper still flared.

  “We keep praying and going to our marriage counselor. We take positive steps toward rebuilding the trust in our marriage, but like I said, it’s gonna take some time.”

  Sullivan rolled her eyes. “How much time?”

  “I can’t answer that, sweetheart. All I can tell you is that I’m trying.”

  Sullivan bore holes into him with doubtful eyes. “Really, Charles? Camping out here on the couch, eating in silence—this is your idea of trying?”

  Charles exhaled. “I can’t get into this with you right now. I have this paper—”

  Sullivan cut him off and threw up her hand. “Yeah, you have your paper, you have the church, you have orphans in Africa that need to be fed, souls that need to won for Christ, drowning polar bears that need to be rescued, and whatever else you can think of to avoid our marriage. I get it, Charles.”

  “Please don’t act like this way,” he pleaded. “I’m trying, Sullivan, I really am. I honestly think things are getting better between us.”

  “Why? Because we’ve said at least two words to each other in the past twelve hours? Or maybe we’ve perfected phoniness so much at church and around our friends that you’re starting to believe the bull we’re putting out to the rest of the world.”

  “Is that what you’re doing? Being phony?”

  She let out a deep breath. “Sometimes . . . when I’m in public smiling when I really want to scream or when I pretend not to notice that you don’t look at me like you used to. It hurts, Charles. I know I screwed up royally, but how long do I have to be punished for my sins?”

  “Nobody’s trying to punish you, honey, and I love you as much as I always have. It’s just a busy season for us right now, but don’t read more into it than that.”

  “How can I not? Truthfully, Charles, I think the only reason you took on all this extra responsibility is to have an excuse to evade me and our issues.”

  “Maybe at first,” he confessed. “But that was when I was still dealing with the affair and the fallout from the election. God has dealt with me on that, and I’m over it now, but I still have obligations and commitments to fulfill.”

  “Including the ones you have to me!” she interjected. “I love you, Charles. The doctor has already warned you about taking on too much and getting stressed out. I just think the focus right now should be on our marriage and having a baby. Before everything blew up with Vaughn, you had babies on the brain. Since then, you’ve been quiet about it. You know I want to have all of my children by the time I’m thirty-six. After that, I’m closing up shop, so time is of the essence, especially if we’re going to have more than one.”

  “Honey, we’re still five years away from your deadline. Honestly, once you made it clear that you didn’t want any kids, I accepted it and put it out of my mind. I’ve never known you to be a baby person, Sullivan. In fact, you’ve been very vocal about detesting children, and I know how much you hate directing the children’s choir at church.”

  “I never said I hated children. My issue has always been the fear that I’d be the kind of mother that Vera was to me. Lord knows I wouldn’t wish anything that traumatic on any child. I’ve moved beyond that, though. People can change. Isn’t that what you’re always preaching to the congregation?”

  “Maybe you were right the first time. Perhaps some couples are just meant to be a blessing to other people’s children.”

  Sullivan got riled up again. “What are you saying, Charles? Are you going to deprive me of having children?”

  “Have I ever deprived you of anything, Sullivan?”

  Sullivan cracked a smile, easing the tension. “There was that Louis Vuitton croc I wanted a few years ago.”

  He chuckled. “You mean the $14,000 purse that you tried to convince me was an investment?”

  “Charles, I can’t help but think that a baby is just what we need to get things back on track between us.”

  “I’m not saying I don’t want to have children, not at all. I think children are a blessing from God, but we don’t need a baby to fix our marriage, not to menti
on that it’s not fair to put that kind of responsibility on a child. It’s up to us and the Lord to fix whatever is wrong in our marriage.”

  “Whether it’s a baby or you taking on a less strenuous workload, something has to change. Our marriage won’t survive if we continue on like this,” cautioned Sullivan.

  Charles cupped his hands around her arms. “We’re fine, Sullivan. If you want, I’ll stop what I’m doing and spend an hour or two with you, then come back and finish. If you’re hungry, I’ll take my beautiful wife out to eat instead of having you warm up day-old casserole. If you’re tired, I’ll take you upstairs and rub your feet, okay?” He planted a kiss on her lips. “We are fine, honey.”

  Sullivan exhaled and fell into her husband’s loving arms, almost convinced that their marriage would be okay.

  “There’s that pretty smile I wanted to see,” said Charles, standing back to look at her. “We’re good. Stop looking for trouble.”

  At that, Sullivan’s smile began to fade. The problem wasn’t that she looked for trouble. The problem was that it always managed to find her.

  Chapter 5

  “Baby, I just don’t know how comfortable I’d be wearing your dead wife’s clothes.”

  —Angel King

  Angel hurried home from dinner with the girls to prepare dinner for her girls after picking them up from a play date. She quickly slipped out of her Sunday best, donned one of her mother’s old aprons, and forced her natural ringlets of curls into a bun. Had she known they were going to murmur and complain like the children of Israel, she would’ve served them Reginell’s half-baked leftovers.

  Miley’s pouty lips soured into a frown, and she tossed her fork on the plate after sampling Angel’s spaghetti. “I don’t like it. It doesn’t taste like Mommy’s.”

  Angel sighed. It wasn’t the first time “not like Mommy’s” was hurled at her and probably wouldn’t be the last. Who knew there was an art to making spaghetti?