My Soul Cries Out Page 2

  Help me understand this, God. Kevin is . . . gay?

  Something in me snapped. I picked up a book and crashed it into the picture. I don’t know what broke it, the book or the high-pitched scream I let out as I threw it.

  I began picking up pictures of me and Kevin from all over the den. The one from our honeymoon in Negril, I threw against the wall. I sent the previous year’s Christmas picture hurling into our engagement picture hanging over the stairs. One by one, I destroyed the evidence of what I thought was our wonderful, God-ordained life together.

  As I smashed each picture, my heart shattered with the glass. My throat was raw from screaming. I couldn’t stop, though. I had to destroy everything that told the lie I now knew my marriage was.

  My mind was spinning. Instinctively, I picked up the phone to call my best friend, Trina. Right after the speed dial finished, I hung up. What would I tell her? “Hey, girl, guess what? I just caught my husband with another man.” Too embarrassing.

  I started pacing again. “Oh my God. Did that really just happen?” No matter how much I walked, I couldn’t escape it. “Okay, Monnie. Get yourself together.” I made myself stand still and take ten deep breaths.

  The phone rang. Without thinking, I answered it. “Hello?”

  “Did you just call me?”

  “Trina . . . I . . . yeah, it was . . . I dialed by accident.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I tried to clear my throat and sound normal.

  “Monica, stop lying. What’s wrong? You sound like you been crying.”

  I didn’t say anything, knowing my voice would betray me.

  “Monica?”

  Why did I answer the phone? I could have played this off to anyone else but Trina. I choked on the lump in my throat and started crying again.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “No! Don’t come over. I’m fine—” Too late. She’d already hung up the phone.

  I looked around at the mess. Trina lived only about fifteen minutes away. I knew she’d be speeding to get to me. I grabbed a broom and swept the glass into a pile.

  I cut my finger on a long, thin shard. “Ouch!” Blood trickled down my arm. I ran to the bathroom before it dripped onto my plush, off-white carpet.

  I ran water over my finger until its red tinge ran clear, then wrapped it in toilet paper. That would have to do for now. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes were puffy, nose red, and my short bob was flying everywhere. I looked like a crazy woman.

  The doorbell rang. I splashed my face with cold water, blew my nose and tried to smooth my hair down. The doorbell rang again.

  “I’m coming, doggone it!”

  My feeble attempt at fixing my face was lost on Trina. When I opened the door, she gasped. “Oh my God, what happened to you?”

  The look of concern on her face was too much for me. I burst into tears again.

  “Monnie, what is it?” Trina led me into the family room and sat me down on the couch. She stared at the broken glass, picture frames, and picture fragments. “What happened in here? Did you and Kevin get in a fight?”

  I nodded, still crying.

  She must have noticed the blood soaking through the tissue on my finger. “Oh my God. What did he do to you? Did Kevin hurt you?”

  I shook my head, still crying.

  “What happened?” Trina got up and walked into the kitchen. I could hear her rummaging through the cabinets while running water. She came back with a wet dishtowel and a glass of water. She unwrapped my finger and wrapped it in the wet cloth and gave me the water to drink. She went to the bathroom and came back with a roll of toilet paper and handed me a wad to wipe my face. She rubbed my back and waited for me to stop crying.

  I finally looked up at her. “I . . . Kevin . . . I . . .” I shook my head and took a deep breath. I rolled off some more tissue and blew my nose. I looked at the floor.

  “Monnie, this is me, your girl. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  I had to just spit it out. “I walked in on Kevin and Trey this afternoon.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I walked in on them in my bed.”

  Trina’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “What do you mean what do I mean? I walked in on my husband . . .” I sucked in a deep breath, “having sex with another man.”

  Her mouth flew open and her eyes bugged out. “What do you mean?”

  “Trina, I can’t say it any clearer than that. Unless you want the graphic version.”

  She held up her hand as if to say “No, thank you.” She stood up and began pacing the den. Every few seconds, she would turn back to me with her mouth wide open, her eyes asking if I said what she thought I said. Each time she did, I nodded. She’d open her mouth like she was about to say something then close it, then open it again and close it, until finally she put her hands on her hips. “What do you mean?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Should I say it in French?”

  “Sorry, but you gotta give me a minute with this one.” She frowned as if she was trying to solve the most difficult Calculus problem. “So you’re telling me Kevin was . . . he and Trey were . . . Kevin is . . . oh, my . . .”

  I started crying again. Her saying it—or not being able to say it—seemed to make it more real.

  Trina pulled herself out of her stupor and came over to hug me. “Oh, Monnie, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to—”

  “I’m not asking you to fix this, Trina. You don’t have to say anything. Just . . . help me not to lose it.” I sobbed in her arms. “You coulda never told me Kevin was . . . I never expected . . .”

  “Shhh, I know. Me either. He doesn’t seem . . . I mean nothing about him is . . .” Trina shook her head and grimaced as if an image just registered in her brain. “Oh, boy, this is . . .”

  We both sat there shaking our heads for a few minutes.

  She chuckled. “So you kicked his tail, huh?”

  Leave it to Trina to make me laugh at a time like this. “Girl, I had to call on the Lord to keep from killing both of them. I lost control.”

  “Y’all was tearing up the den?”

  “No, the bedroom. I did all this after they left.”

  “Umm.” She looked around at the mess again. “Remind me to never get you mad.” We both laughed, then I started to cry.

  “Oh, Monnie. I’m sorry, girl.” She held me until I stopped crying. “Come on. Let’s pack you a bag. You’re going with me.”

  I looked around room. “What about this?”

  “Let him clean it up. That is if he’s stupid enough to come back.”

  2

  I lay back on the headrest in Trina’s car. I was glad I called her. Trina was always there for me, no matter what was going on. What made me think I could have gone through this without her?

  Without her . . .

  I gasped and sat up. “Oh my God, I forgot.”

  Trina grimaced. “I wondered when it was gonna hit you.”

  “You’re leaving me. I can’t believe it.”

  Trina was scheduled to leave for a two-year mission trip in Africa in two weeks. She had been planning, dreaming, and talking about it for the past year. Trina was an African studies major in college. After completing a Missions degree at a local Bible college, she became obsessed with the idea of going to Africa. Her dream was finally about to come true.

  Trina stopped at a red light and turned to give me her full attention. With her hand on my arm, she said, “Say the word, Monnie, and I’ll cancel my trip.”

  I wanted nothing more than to tell her not to go. “I can’t do that. As important as this is to you? What kind of friend would I be?”

  “One that just experienced what will probably be the worst thing that will happen in her life, who shouldn’t have to go through it alone.”

  “Trina, I love you for even suggesting that, but I’d never forgive myself if you didn’t go.”

  I wante
d to be selfish and tell her I couldn’t handle losing my husband and my best friend at the same time. But she had already taken a sabbatical from her job, rented her house to her younger sister, and had gotten the most beautiful tiny African braids so she wouldn’t have to worry about her hair.

  Looked like I was gonna have to walk through this alone because there wasn’t another soul I could tell.

  A tear slid down my cheek. I felt Trina wipe it away.

  “Monnie?”

  I shook my head. “I was supposed to have you a niece or a nephew by the time you got back from Africa. Remember?”

  Trina rubbed my arm.

  Kevin and I had decided we wanted two years of marital bliss before we started a family. A few months ago, we had set January as the month I would stop taking birth control. Relief flooded my chest. Thank God I hadn’t stopped yet.

  I sighed and lay on the headrest with my eyes closed until the car stopped in Trina’s driveway.

  Just walking into Trina’s house made me feel better. The calming earth tones welcomed me like a hug. The foyer led into her living room with beautiful hardwood floors and a deep brown leather couch and love seat. Red accents added unexpected life to the muted browns, and her artwork added even more sophistication to the look. The musky scent of burning incense wafted from the kitchen.

  Trina and I met in a young adult Sunday school class at Love and Faith Christian Church. I instantly liked her, while everyone else got frustrated with her asking a million questions. Unlike most of us who had been in church all our lives, Trina had never been saved before and didn’t know much about God or the Bible.

  After listening to everyone’s frustrated sighs after the second class, I introduced myself to Trina. I offered for us to study and pray together. I told her I didn’t know everything, but would teach her whatever I could. The first time we got together, we studied the Bible for an hour then talked for four more. We’d been close friends ever since.

  Trina soon surpassed me in all things biblical and spiritual. She stayed at Love and Faith for three years, took every class, went to every Bible study, attended every service, and then got restless. Finally, she said she felt like Bishop had taken her as far as she could go. She joined a church across town known for its Bible teaching, and was quite happy there.

  Trina plopped my overnight bag down on her couch and sat down next to it. I sat on the chair and took off my shoes. We sat there in a weird silence for a while.

  Trina let out a little sigh. “What do you want to do? You feel like talking about it?”

  I shrugged. “What is there to say? My husband is . . . gay. My marriage was a lie, and life as I knew it, planned it, and dreamed it is over.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I guess that pretty much sums it up. I wish there was something I could do or say to make this better. Want to pray?”

  “And say what? God, please help Monica deal with the fact that her husband is a fag?”

  Trina winced. “Could you not use that word?”

  “What? Fag? What would you prefer me to say? Homo? Gay boy? Punk? Sissy?”

  Trina stared at me. “Dag, Monica. That’s kinda harsh, don’t ya think? Not to mention severely politically incorrect and ungodly.”

  I clenched my teeth. “Do I look like I care about being politically correct right now?” I purposefully ignored the godly part.

  She looked at my face. “I guess not. I never knew you were like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Homophobic.”

  “I didn’t either. Amazing what catching your husband with another man will do.” I shook my head. “I’m not homophobic. Anthony at work is gay. I don’t have a problem with him. And my cousin Ricky got a little sugar in his tank, and we get along just fine.”

  Trina laughed. “You know what you sound like?” She gave her best white girl imitation. “I’m not prejudiced. Some of my best friends are black.”

  “Whatever, girl. I don’t know how I feel about ’em. I never had to think about it before. I mean, when you really think about what they do? That’s nasty. And to see it? And for it to be my husband?” I shook the image from my head. “Anyway, I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  Trina looked around the living room. “Do you want to watch a movie or something then? Take your mind off it?”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s cool.”

  Trina put a movie in the DVD player and dimmed the lights. The surround sound filled the room and my head enough to squeeze out the thoughts. I sank into Trina’s overstuffed armchair and thick pillows. The pulsing light from the television flashing into the darkness was hypnotic, and I would have fallen asleep if not for fear of seeing images of Kevin and Trey in my head.

  One movie turned into three. It was a good escape, even if for only a few hours. After we finished the last one, I stretched and yawned. “I’m going to bed.”

  Trina clicked off the TV. “Wanna go to church with me in the morning?”

  “I don’t feel like going to church tomorrow. And please save the sermon. I don’t want to hear it.”

  “I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I wasn’t. I just figured you wouldn’t want to go to your church tomorrow and wanted to offer an alternative.”

  I smacked my forehead. “Oh, no. I have to go to Love and Faith tomorrow.”

  “Why?”

  “I have to teach my juniors Sunday school and I have to do the announcements.”

  “Can’t you get somebody else to do it?”

  I looked down at my watch. It was almost 11:00. “At this hour, no. I’ll be okay. I’ll just sit in the balcony, give the announcements and leave.”

  “I can see it now.” Trina held her hands up in a TV screen frame. “Crazed woman attacks large metropolitan church’s minister of music. Details at eleven.”

  I threw a pillow at her. “I’ll be fine. I don’t even know if he’ll show up.”

  “Girl, please. Kevin don’t ever miss church. Remember how mad you were the day after your wedding, when he insisted on going to service first and then leaving for your honeymoon?”

  I curled my upper lip. “You’re right. Shoot. I shoulda called Glenda. She woulda done it for me.”

  “Want me to go with you?”

  “What?” I put my hand on my chest. “You’d lower yourself to spend a Sunday at Love and Faith Christian Center?”

  “Stop trippin’. It ain’t even like that.”

  I thought for a second. “What if he doesn’t come? What should I tell Bishop Walker?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s gonna ask me where Kevin is. What should I tell him?”

  “The truth. Tell him you don’t know where he is.”

  “Yeah right, Trina. You know Bishop won’t let me just say that and leave. He’s gonna ask me a bunch of questions.”

  “Girl, y’all got fifteen thousand members. You ain’t even gonna see Bishop, let alone have to talk to him.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” I scratched my head. “Don’t you think he should know, though? Kevin’s the minister of music at this man’s church. He leads us in worship, and he’s gay. Don’t you think Bishop has a right to know that? Now that I know, aren’t I obligated to tell him?”

  Trina got up and took Cry Freedom out of the DVD player and returned it to its case. “I don’t know, Monica. I do see your point—he has Kevin in a place of leadership and should know the truth. Don’t you think Kevin should be the one to tell him, though?”

  “Has he told him all this time? Did he tell me?”

  Trina returned the DVD to its place amidst her massive collection. “Just be careful, Monnie. Kevin has been at that church all his life. Bishop is like a father to him.”

  “Exactly. He didn’t tell his wife or his spiritual father. He’s gay and he’s a liar. Bishop needs to know. He wouldn’t want that type of person in charge of his music ministry a second longer.”

  Trina shook her h
ead slowly. “Maybe you should talk to Kevin and give him a chance to tell Bishop first.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll let God decide. If God wants me to tell him, He’ll create an opportunity for me to tell him. If He doesn’t, then I won’t even see Bishop tomorrow.”

  “So you’re gonna fleece God, huh?”

  “Not fleecing. Just letting His perfect will be done.”

  I climbed the stairs slowly and got ready for bed. It took so much effort to do simple things like brush my teeth and change clothes. It felt like an hour passed before I lay down in Trina’s guest bed. As I drifted off to sleep, my mind raced. Where did I miss it? How could I have not realized my husband was gay? I mean, dag, seems like somewhere along the way, something or someone would have tipped me off.

  Alaysia . . .

  I hadn’t talked to her in almost three years because of this. She had predicted this and tried to warn me. Alaysia was my best friend and roommate through college and after we graduated. She had been closer to me than a sister. We had the biggest fight the night after Kevin proposed to me.

  When I announced to Alaysia that Kevin finally popped the question and there was no one else who could be my maid of honor, she just sat there. She didn’t get excited. She didn’t squeal. She barely looked at the ring. She didn’t say a word.

  “Okay, that’s an inappropriate response.”

  She took a deep breath. “Monnie, you’re my best friend, right?”

  “Right.”

  “You know I love you and would never do anything to hurt you, right?”

  “Laysia, what? You’re scaring me.”

  “I should have said something before, but I never thought it would get to this point. I never thought he would propose because . . .”

  My face turned bright red. “You never thought he would propose? Why? You didn’t think someone like Kevin would fall for me? You’re used to the men falling all over you and ignoring the fat girl, huh? Well, guess what? This fine, talented man is in love with me and asked me to marry him. I thought you were my friend. I thought you’d be happy for me. I can’t believe I asked you to be my maid of honor. I can’t believe you—”