Читать книгу Selling My Soul - Sherri L. Lewis - Страница 11

Seven

The next day, I woke up with the sun as I had for the past two years. When I lived in the remote village areas, we had no electricity, so we woke up with the sun and ended most activity at sunset. That meant most of our days went from 5:00 A.M. to 5:00 P.M. When I cracked my eyes open, it took me awhile to figure out I was back home. As soon as I did, I turned over on my pallet on the floor and forced myself to go back to sleep.

I didn’t awaken again until hours later, when I heard the doorbell ring and Monica’s voice shortly thereafter. I got up and quickly got dressed, brushed my teeth, and went down the steps.

“Well, she’s alive.” Moms hugged me and ran a thin hand over my afro. “Tree, I thought you was gon’ sleep all day.” I could tell she was trying to get used to my hair.

I hugged Monica. “You sleep well?”

She stared at my eyes. “I should be asking you that.”

I shrugged. “It’s gonna take me awhile to catch up.”

Moms said, “You didn’t bring no clothes? You can put on something of mine if you want to.”

I looked down at the same jeans and T-shirt I’d put on yesterday after my shower. “No, these are fine.” I walked over to the stove and found leftover pancakes and eggs. I realized I hadn’t eaten much the night before and fixed a plate and sat down to eat.

“Ain’t you gonna warm it up?” My mother frowned.

I shook my head and tore off a piece of pancake, picked up some eggs with it, and gulped it down. Moms stared at me like I had no home training. “They ain’t got forks in Africa?”

I shook my head and gulped down another bite of pancakes and eggs. Moms and Monica looked at each other, then looked at me. They finally sat down at the table with me.

“Have y’all heard about this?” Moms looked past me at the small television on the kitchen counter. I winced when I saw what was on the screen. It was the twelve o’clock news, showing Deacon Barnes and Pastor Hines being carted off in handcuffs. Moms got up to turn up the volume.

“According to their church leadership council, these men are accused of molesting boys in their congregations for over twenty years. Since this story has broken, eight more families have come forward with similar allegations. We can only expect many more . . .”

Moms sucked her teeth. “And you want to know why I don’t go to church. They a bunch of hypocrites, that’s why. Young boys supposed to be in church learning about Jesus, but instead, they get raped. That’s why it’s so many gay men in the church now. Foolishness like that.”

Monica went pale and bit her lip. I knew she was bracing herself because Moms was just getting started.

Bishop Walker appeared on the screen next, holding up his hand, refusing to answer the questions of several reporters nearly chasing him into the church.

My mother stood. “Ain’t that y’all’s old church?” She put her hands on her hips. “You mean to tell me the church you was trying to get me to go to was full of all that hell? I knew there was a reason I didn’t want to go. There’s more sin and hell in the church than us regular folk who ain’t got time to be bothered with a bunch of holy rollers telling us we going to hell. Who you think going to hell now? That’s why I know all I need to do is live right and love people. Not do nobody no harm. I’ll be living better than half the so-called Christians.”

“Moms, please.” I picked up the last bit of egg on my plate with the last chunk of pancake. “Can we not talk about this right now?” The sick feeling in my stomach had me wanting to not eat that last bite of food, but there was no way I was going to waste it. Moms stopped fussing in time for us to hear the next bit of news.

“The investigation began when a letter was received from a former member of Love and Faith Christian Center reporting that he had been molested by both individuals starting twenty years ago. Love and Faith’s church council refused to release the identity of the individual who wrote the letters alleging the sexual abuse. One has to wonder what made the individual finally come forward. We will continue to try to get further information as this story unfolds . . .”

Monica let out a little gasp and laid her head on the table.

I instantly arose and went to her, rubbing her back. “You okay?”

She lifted her head and nodded, apparently trying to keep herself together for my mother’s sake. “I’m okay. Just ate something at my parents’ that didn’t agree with me. You know my stomach is only used to organic, healthy stuff.” I took her hand and gave it a squeeze. I walked over and turned off the television.

“Hey, I was watching that,” Moms said.

“Don’t you want to see what I brought you back from Africa?” I walked over to my bag and pulled out a capelana skirt I had brought her. “This is the first of many gifts. I left the rest at home.” I stood her up to tie it around her waist but couldn’t bear how thin she had gotten. The skirt wrapped around her twice. I sat her back down in the chair. “I have a better idea.”

I removed her head scarf, maintaining my composure at the pitiful sight of her bald head. I smoothed my hands over it, fingering the last bit of peach fuzz that hadn’t fallen out yet. I tied the capelana skirt around her head and made an elaborate wrap. The vibrant colors in the skirt brightened her face. “Beautiful,” I said.

She walked over to the microwave and studied her dim reflection. Her face lit up, and she walked down the hall into the bathroom. I followed her. She fingered the head wrap, turning from side to side and finally smiled at herself in the mirror. “Don’t I look like an African queen?”

“Absolutely, Moms.” I squeezed her shoulders.

She turned around to hug me. “Thanks, Tree. I’m so sorry about all this.”

“Shhh. Everything’s gonna be fine.” I held her for a few minutes, hoping I could impart faith and strength to her.

Later, after Monica went back to her parents’ and Moms lay down for a nap, I pulled her bills out of my purse and sat down at the kitchen table. The more bills I opened, the heavier I got. By the time I had tabulated all her expenses, I was even more upset at Moms and Tiffany for not telling me what was going on so I could have come home sooner. I calculated the cost of getting everything current, and then her monthly expenses for the next few months. It would take more than half of the money I had saved.

I decided to count it a blessing that I still had money and that I could take care of her. I realized that now, instead of having six months to find a job, I only had two or three. Still plenty of time to find what I wanted. When I thought about the fact that I would now have to pay Moms’s bills and mine indefinitely, I shortened the time to a month. Which meant I needed to start looking right away.

I would still leave my “invisible” chunk of money in my savings account. I kept about five thousand dollars stashed away in a high interest account and vowed never to touch it except for life and death situations. I forced away the thought that Moms’s situation was that critical.

One thing was for certain. Tiffany was going to have to get a job and keep it. No way her grown behind was gonna be living in my house, eating my food, using my electricity and water, and not paying nothing. Doing whatever it was she did with her time while I worked all day. She was going to have to pull her own weight. I knew Tiffany thought she could float easy over the next few months because I would never put her butt out on the street with Moms sick. She was about to find out how different I was.