The Control of Fear

     She spent many years being afraid to tell that her bible teaching husband was a mean emotional abuser.  She never told anyone that the children ran to their rooms when they heard their fathers key in the door each evening because they feared what mood he'd be in.  She wanted to walk away but feared she couldn't take care of the children alone and afraid the sky would fall on her because the Lord hates putting away. She was afraid that she'd spent so much time living in fear and emotional turmoil at the mouth of her husband that her aged smile, wrinkled eyes, and saggy flesh would be the cause of no other man ever wanting her to wife.  

     Finally after 21 years of living in fear, she mustered up enough strength and courage to remove herself and her children from the grips of the mean man and what happened? She was labeled a whore, a sinful women, a liar, and an unruly female.  The men feared her because "he" said she was an adultery.  The women feared her because they thought she wanted their husbands.  They all feared her because her silenced spirit made her look as if she were a rebellious and stubborn woman and rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft while  stubbornness is as idolatry.  She feared these same people  who feared her because she was afraid of how mean and unjust she learned they could be.  They didn't care to realize that a women with a lot of children doesn't leave a good man.   Now she was afraid that she'd be alone for the rest of her life.

     In each moment she lived without the fellowship of friends,  she thought about living this life of fear, she realized she was not afraid of death  at all, life seemed  to be a whole lot more painful than rest.  She was not wired to be alone. 

In Need of Comfort

She suddenly felt uneasy as she passed the corner store and saw a tall slender young man whom she guessed was only a few years older than she was.  She’d seen him before.  He passed her most mornings under the viaduct walking to the bus stop.  She guessed he was going to work since she never saw him carrying books.  Her uncles warned her to be careful walking under that viaduct.  “You’re a beauty Dinah. Some men don’t know how to handle you.  You will have to sift through the junk to get you a decent young man who will respect you.”   Dinah was well-formed, a true beauty to behold with a striking hourglass figure, turning the heads of men young and old as she strut down the street unconscious of her own sensuality, .  It was a natural walk that she didn’t practice.   In each moment, as she walked past a glaring male, she wished she could change the way she walked.  “She walks like a Maltese kitten,” the boys whispered in the hallway.  They didn’t know whether to watch her buttock or her thick, rounded, life-size, sexy calves as she walked.  She was well balanced and agile.  She had a stealthy stride, a stride that made her buttock twitch methodically from one side to another with an innate simplicity.  They didn’t know whether to watch the round of the buttock’s unconscious twitch or her full-size legs as she sauntered.  At any rate, watching her sensual stroll brought life to a many a man on the street corner.  No one knew except her family that Dinah was violated because of the sensual stroll that came to her naturally.  Unlike the memory of her Rueben, this memory was like a poignant wound in the heart.  Her youthful naivety was stolen, vanished forever after it happened.    

It was one year and six months after Dinah and Rueben were together that things took a different turn.  The last day of school before winter break as she remembers it.  They were supposed to meet up after the school assembly and go to Reuben’s house to spend time together since they hadn’t seen each other except while passing in the hallway hustling off to class, in more than two weeks. When they talked the night before, they were both excited about being on break for two weeks and excited about the possibility of spending time together.   She waited outside the auditorium until a hall monitor insisted she leave the building.  She waited outside at the front door until there were only five people remaining at the busy bus stop on the corner.  How could he have walked right past her?  She stood there so long she began to feel ashamed. 

Finally, she decided to get on the next bus, she wanted to get home so that she could be there when he called.  She knew he would call.  She didn’t know how she missed him; she stood in the same spot she’d stood  many times while she waited for him.  He always came.  It never took this long, so she was anxious to hear his explanation for standing her up.  Dinah waited for Reuben’s phone call home for seven days.  She dialed his number four times that week.  The first time, there was no answer.  The second time, there was no answer.  The third time, there was no answer.  The fourth time she called she got another busy signal.  She fought with herself about dialing his number again, she didn’t like how it felt to be so clingy, possessive, and wanton. 

There was a party to celebrate the holiday that weekend and Dinah wanted to make sure she was there.  She had been in the house all week, since it was winter and cold outside.  She had no place to go so she stayed inside and spend the week in her room reading.  She thought Reuben would be at the party too.  She hoped he would.  It was very unlike him to not call her.  They usually talked on the phone for hours every evening, sometimes talking about nothing, sometimes talking about everything. Sometimes just holding up the line. neither wanted to let the other go.

She took her time and soaked in the tub in preparation for the party.  She washed every part of her body that day.  Taking a long hot bath comforted and made her feel good.  After her bath, she put powder and perfume on everywhere she could think of.  She wanted to smell good.  A long relaxing bath and taking time to spruce herself up was an enjoyable practice she’d learn to neglect later in her life.  She chose to wear a svelte red dress her aunt bought her as a gift.  She oiled, brushed, and curled her hair so it would sit on her head just so.  She prided herself in her very large and well kept Afro.  Like her sensuous walk, Dinah’s afro turned many heads.  She left home for the dance confident that she looked and smelled good enough for someone to eat.  She was ready to talk to Reuben with the confidence of an innocent fawn grazing in the woods unaware of the wolf approaching his prey at a snail's pace.   She practiced what she’d say to Reuben in the mirror.  She couldn’t wait to see his smiling face and give her ear to hear his reasons for standing her up and altering their carefully constructed plans. 

While at the party, Dinah danced until she was ready to drop.  She danced with or without a partner.  It didn’t matter, she simply enjoyed dancing.  She danced until her feet and legs felt numb.  She loved to dance even that day, the disappointment of Reuben not being there didn’t stop her.  She paid little attention to the latest dance craze.  She just moved every part of her body to the music.  She was always in cinque.  Music had always been in her bones.  She should have learned to play an instrument.  Music was soothing and relaxing to her.  That night she didn’t slow dance, she saved that for Reuben.

She wanted to get as close to him as could.  She wanted to lean on him supported by his strong body and his big arms.  She wanted to be comforted by both his touch and the music simultaneously.  The anticipation of his touch made her dance even more.  She kept her eye on the door, waiting for Reuben to enter.  The party of nearly over before she realized he was not coming.  They were supposed to go to that party together.  She went alone and he never showed.  She wondered if he remembered.  She wanted to talk to him, he had been her best friend since they first met a year and a half ago.  She wanted to look into his kind eyes.  Little did she know she’d learn to live with that achy feeling, the pain of yearning for Reuben.  It was a pain she’d learn to hate and at the same time look forward to with anticipation.   

She was only sixteen.  She should never have been allowed to go to that party alone after seven in the evening she rode public transportation to from the party.  She was on her way home at midnight, thirty minutes past curfew.  To get from the bus stop to her house she needed to walk about five blocks, pass under a long viaduct, and walk across a series of vacant lots.  She usually walked that walk faster looking around her as she walked.  She was usually conscious of every noise and jumped at every sound.  That evening she was distracted.  She wasn’t paying close attention to her surroundings.  She was both exhausted from her night of excited dancing and because she hadn’t seen nor heard from Reuben in a week.  She was cold because she walked in the midst of Chicago’s winter chill. 

As she approached the end of the viaduct t on the way home, she heard footsteps behind her.  The streets were deserted because of the time and the cold.  She turned her head slightly to try to see who was walking behind her without breaking her own stride.  She walked faster.  He picked up his stride.  She thought of running but her feet were numbing and she had a difficult time picking them up quickly.  Before she knew it the footsteps caught up with her.  Abruptly there was an arm around her neck. A smelly skull cap was slid over her head covering her face.  The perpetrator then put a knife to her throat.  It seemed as if he did it all at the same time in one smooth and swift swoop.   It seemed as if he had much skill and practice.  She wondered how many other young girls were preyed on by him.  There was no delay in the steps being taken to secure Dinah as prey.  He said in a fierce tone, “do what I tell you and you won’t get hurt.  Scream or try to run and I’ll stick this knife in your neck.”  Dinah was petrified.  She didn’t make a sound.  He pulled her over to the stairs where passengers came down from the Metra train.  There was not a sole in eye sight nor from what she could tell was there anyone in ear shot. 

“No!” said Dinah

“Shut up Little One!” he said.

He timed it perfectly.  While he performed his fiendish act, no train stopped at the station.  She listened for a train.  She paid close attention to his voice trying to remember it.  He put his hand over her mouth as his hips bounced up and down on her torso like an animal and pushing her back into the edge of the steps causing her more pain.  She was not a virgin; Reuben had loved her tenderly for six months.  He didn’t enter her with such rough force.  Tears rolled down her face and she whimpered from the abuse.

“Shut up, you better dry up those tears, I ain’t hurtin you, you aint’ tight, you done this before, more than once!” he said gritting his teeth. 

He moved the knife closer to her throat has he spoke.  Dinah was afraid not to do what she was told and managed to suck up tears. 

“Move you your ass dam it, you know how to do this!”

Dinah moved her hips slowly as he humped.

“Damn you, move faster.  I am almost there!” he said.  She could feel the tip of the knife penetrate the skin in her neck. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” cried Dinah.  “Please stop” she wept.

“Suck my neck,” he moaned.

“Please stop,” sniveled Dinah!

“Take your titty out,” ordered the perpetrator. 

Dinah cried as quietly as she could.

“Bitch shut up and do what I tell you to do,” screeched the perpetrator!

 “No! Don’t try to use both hands, ” he corrected her as he stuck tip of his knife closer to her neck again.  He pushed harder to pin one arm under her.

He lifted the skull cap up just slightly under her nose.

“Kiss me now” he groaned.

“I can make you feel good.”  “You know you want it.”  “I seen you walk.” he murmured.

“I been watching you,” he said.

“No, please,” Dinah sobbed!

“Shut up I told you and kiss me” was the final order before she heard his last deep groan. 

He finished, got up quickly, and ran in the same direction from which he came.  She was afraid to look after him.  He got up pulled the skull cap off her face and ran home, despite the numbness in her feet and legs.  She tried to close her coat as she ran, but noticed the buttons had been ripped off.  It happened so fast, she didn’t notice when he ripped her coat open.  She didn’t want anyone to find her torn panties and underwear so she picked them up and stuffed them in her pocket.  She had on one shoe and could not find the other.  Words finally poured out of her mouth as she pushed the front door open.  She was finally able to scream loudly, enough to startle everyone in the house.  Her mother jumped out of bed.  As Dinah told her what happened, her mother held her and rocked her.  Her mother rarely hugged her. 

Dinah felt safe and secure.  When the police came they asked so many questions.  According to them she did everything wrong.  She wondered how they would have reacted had it been them in her place.  Their tone was accusatory.  When she was taken to the doctor, she was examined.  The doctor said the tear in her vagina wasn’t bad enough for stitches.  Once the doctor discovered that Dinah wasn’t a virgin he became as suspicious as the officers.  Dinah felt awful.  She felt dirty.  She felt it was her own fault.  She couldn’t identify her rapist.  Their voices were accusatory because she did not even try to get a look at him.  They couldn’t understand that she did not want to see his face.  She just wanted him to leave her alone.  She just wanted the police and the doctor to leave her alone now.  She didn’t like their tone and the way treated her.  She didn’t even like the way they questioned her mother in an accusatory manner. 

That voice though, she wanted to remember. She listened for the fierce voice a long time afterwards.  Even now, at almost fifty one, she still gets nervous and frightened when someone walks behind her.  For a long time she wondered what would have happened if she had screamed or tried to run away.  Maybe she could have gotten away.  Maybe her screams would have been heard by someone.  She didn’t know why she made it so easy for her rapist, that’s what the police told her.  She was just scared, too scared to do anything other than follow instructions.  She felt sick and guilty when the police officer asked her several times why she didn’t scream or at least try to run.  She wondered why. 

The thought of a knife stuck in her throat wouldn’t allow her to do anything but what she did.  She was only sixteen at the time, powerless against any man.  The voice she heard was not the voice of a teenager.  It was not the arms of a little boy.  He didn’t feel like a largely built man, but he was a man just the same.  Nobody except her mother and her uncle said that she did the right thing.  They both told her that maybe had she not cooperated she may not even be alive to tell her story and feel the comfort of the words they spoke to her.  Maybe if she had not cooperated she would not have the opportunity to experience the joy and laughter that the five marvelous children bring her today. 

As she ran home felt no pain until she hurdled herself into her mother’s embrace.  She could now feel the sting of his heavy brutal hand across her face, the rip in her throbbing vagina, and the throbbing of his fist in her stomach.  She could feel the bitter cold as she lay there under the brutal attack.  She could feel the aching of a broken and naïve heart stolen.  Dinah was haunted by the fact that she did as she was told.  Unable to hold back her tears, she followed every order.  She was petrified and feared he would slit her throat.  She did not know what else to do.  She was sorry she even went to that party.  She was sorry she went alone.  It was the last time Dinah walked that walk alone. Five blocks.  In the dark.  From the bus stop.  Under the viaduct.  Past the series of vacant lots to where she lived.

Dinah remembered his voice even today.  Several years later she heard that voice at the laundry mat as she took her head out of the dryer taking the clothes out.  She didn’t turn around.  She made a bee line for the door leaving all her family’s laundry behind.  She thought of nothing but getting out of there.  Again, he had the advantage.  She could recognize her but she had no idea how he looked.  Even now, as she ran out the door she was afraid to look.  She ran home and told her mother and uncle why she left the clothes at the laundry.  The two of them moved fast! They didn’t seem upset.  Her mother picked up the phone immediately and called the police.  Her uncle took Dinah’s hand and walked to the door, down the stairs, down the 4 blocks to the laundry mat.  When they got there, there was only a young woman and her children there washing their clothes.  The police took a long time to come.  There was no sign of him, just more questions, another useless police report, but thankfully no hospital and no probing. 

During the rape, her rapist pulled at her fine dress so roughly that he tore the ruffle.  He ripped her panties off and raped her with what seemed like all the force he could muster up.  His forceful entrance tore her vagina wall. It felt as if he ripped the delicate layer of skin inside to pieces.  She remembers being afraid and hurt.  She remembers the tears.  He threatened her and said that she had better act like she liked it.  It was a long time ago, but she remembers that horrific night very well.  She could still hear his voice say, “make it believable or I’ll kill you.”  He also demanded that she rotate her hips or the knife would make its way to her chest.  She did as she was told.  She did everything he commanded.  She held her breath and touched her lips with his.  She was careful not to let her tongue touch his tongue or his lips.  She held it back hoping he wouldn’t notice or care.  She wanted to scream as she moved her hips in a circular motion.  The scream was stuck in her chest.  She couldn’t pull it up for fear he’d make good on his threats. 

Dinah stayed home for the rest of winter break.  She didn’t leave the house for anything except school for months after.  Her uncle walked her to the bus stop every morning and he met her for the walk home in the afternoon.  He stood there strongly each day when she got off that bus.  Dinah loved her uncle he acted as the father she didn’t have.  She was afraid to go out alone and he knew it.  She missed Reuben but those feelings were overshadowed by her fear of going out alone.

Dinah did not see Reuben at school after winter break.  She asked a few people if they’d seen him, they said no.  Dinah could not understand what happened.  She was so lonely and still so distraught from the rape.  This made her open and vulnerable.  She saw Keith in the cafeteria.  They made eye contact.  The stare was immediately intense but it didn’t scare her.  He sat at the table in front of her with a friend.  She could hardly focus on eating her lunch for watch him.  As soon as their eyes met, she felt anger instead of worry for Reuben.  Where was he and how could he leave without one word? She missed him.  As they waited for the bell to ring and the periods to change Keith walked over to her table and sat next to her.  He began to talk to her.  He wasn’t Reuben, but his voice comforted her.  She admired his boldness.  Being shy and a bit of an introvert it was not easy to talk back to him.  All she could do was answer his questions.  She stuttered and didn’t want anybody to know, Reuben knew but she didn’t stutter so much with him.  She stuttered with Keith though, that should have been her first clue.  He made her smile when he asked, “do you think you and I have a chance together?” She didn’t know how to respond to his question since there was no break up with Reuben.  She tried to think of a catchy and hip phrase to say but couldn’t.  She could only smile.  She wanted to respond with something catchy or hip he would think about later.  She was a little excited, but uncertain.  She was nervous but felt a little bit of the lonely leave her.  She needed comfort and Keith would have to do.

The Temp

Dinah loved to hear Tabitha and the oldest boy sing old school music. Her love for R&B and especially blues was passed to her children. However, Tabitha stilled seemed to viewed the world and rhythm to the sounds of hip hop and rap music.  Dinah hated it.  But, she tolerated it in the house for the sake of her Tabitha and the other children feeling comfortable at home. She did not want to feel they had to steal away to their friend’s homes where parents were more lenient.  Dinah did not mind Tabitha sitting in the living room playing her CD's on her box.  She knew Tabitha would be careful.  She purchased an artpiece from an auction that was simply a giant West African baobab tree standing strong and firm near a body of water.  The tree reminded her of the nobility and the strength of those first “migrants” stolen from the shores and shipped to a land of criminal strangers. There was a mountain and waterfall behind it. This piece gave her a feeling of peace and serenity.  She hung it at the foot of her bed.  A thought came to her mind as she looked at the picture on her wall.  “I don’t think I have ever felt this good in my life,” she spoke loudly.

As she laid her clothes out for the next day, she thought about the difficulty she had trying to earn a college degree, and raising the children alone. Then,  according to her sour aunt, she had the audacity to enroll in master’s degree program.   It takes most people four years to finish a simple BA.   Life had made Aunt Pearl bitter.  It took Dinah eight years to finish because of her responsibilities of caring for children. Though she had the academic skills, she wanted to properly take care of her babies, they meant a lot to her. It takes time to nurture and rear them properly. She was proud of herself. She finally did it; they were all almost out of high school and adults! She wanted to encourage other single mothers to have courage and patience, and pride within themselves and to pass it to their daughters and sons.  Dinah didn’t think about being alone as much as she used to.  She spent her time just trying to get through the day.  She was free to love, yet nobody was in her life who wanted to love her.  In each moment she contemplated the joys of freedom,  she knew it was going to be just another lonely day.

Still living in Chicago battling the harsh winters, Dinah loved the lakefront beaches, the parks, and the zoo.  She loved spending her time listening to the percussionist have their regular jam session at the 63^rd street beach.  She was afraid to get out there herself with her shakore, so she used her fingers to tap out the beats on her steering wheel.  She liked to read while she sat there or to watch the families have such a great time barbecuing and picnicking outside the beach area.  There was always something to do in Chicago, especially in the summer that was free on the lakefront.  In the winter there was a free gospel concert at so many churches throughout the city.  They usually included praise dancers, she still loved the dance.  Being the place where stepping was created, Dinah could always find a steppers class to attend that didn’t cost too much.  This way she was entertained and got in a good workout at the same time.  The museums were fantastic and they still had one free day each week for visitors like Dinah.  Even though gang violence was taking over some areas of the city, Chicago was an absolute marvelous place and she loved living there.  She didn’t mind doing anything alone anymore. Besides is was much better than being someone’s temp.

Reuben didn't like being alone anymore. He couldn't remember when he wasn't alone.  Though he worked two jobs and had people around him most of the time, his heart was in teaching.  As he reflected on his work at the Los Angeles Community College where he taught Political Science, he thought about Richard, a young man in his Wednesday morning class.  Reuben had taught only a few young men like Richard in his 15 years as college professor.  He could see loneliness in the young man’s eyes and suspected that he was at his wit’s end.   Being a friend to loneliness he knew it well.  He invited Reuben to join the spoken word group he chaperoned.  He was playing match maker and figured Richard would take to one of the young ladies in the group.   He chose the proverbial black slacks to wear today. This time though he decided to go with a peach shirt and mildly colorful tie. His dress was usually very conservative.  When Reuben left home that morning he had a feeling that it would be a special day.  Today he dressed in preparation for the blessing he knew he’d attract.   After tying the tie snugly around his neck, he spotted the tweed jacket that went with his black pants.  It was early spring and mornings can be a bit nippy in the east wing of the college.  He was new to the department chair position and his new office was always chilly.

His birthday was in less than a week and Reuben felt his lonely days were coming to an end. While preparing his usual breakfast of coffee, English muffins, and fresh melon salad, Reuben couldn't help but remember the first day he laid eyes on Dinah James, he thought about Dinah, his first girlfriend a thousand times since their high school days. He kept a picture of Dinah from a fashion show she was in she and her sisters organized to raise funds for their dance troupe.  Dinah was his angel but he didn’t know what to do with her.  She had a mature mind for which he didn’t know what to do with.  He imagined her strolling down the school hallway eagerly trying to get to class on time.   Before going to a meeting for department chairs Reuben stopped by the registrar’s office to submit his midterm grades.  

As he entered the building he saw Professor Kelly Shaw, new to the faculty this semester.  Reuben could sense her eagerness to teach.  As he watched her walk into the office he wondered if she would bring his blessing that day.  “She seemed to have chosen the outfit for her first day with care”, Reuben thought.  Looking younger than when he first saw her at a staff meeting the week before, Professor Shaw didn’t look to be forty yet.  Her attire represented her stylish youthfulness yet her suit was businesslike but not too drab. He spotted the pink that faintly appeared between the wool woven tightly together. The straight skirt accented her full figure. Yet the black wool made her stout curves appear slim.  

Reuben loved a woman with a little meat on her bones. When he decided to choose a woman, he wanted one that he could hold on to. He wanted one he could feel.  He wanted to call her by her first name, Kelly that day because he imagined her warm smile seeming to invite him into her life. He wondered if she was already married or dating. He decided right then that he would find out if she was already spoken for.  He wondered if Kelly was soon to occupy at least some of his lonely time.  Reuben intentionally sped up his walk to catch up to her.  As he walked past her getting to the office first, he opened the door, held it in a gentlemanly manner so she could enter first, and greeted Professor Shaw with a kind and exhilarating smile being careful not to be flirtatious as she walked in.  The smile he received in return was standoffish.  He could tell that she held back deliberately.  In the back of his mind he knew that Kelly was not really his type but at this moment in his life she would do until the real one crossed his path and made his heart really flutter.   His aim was to make this a special day as he contemplated the best way to get her attention.  She’d be his temp.

A Touch of Home

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Through the phone wires his voiced stung as Aviel proudly proclaimed, “that’s how I met my wife.”   Why was he talking to her about “his wife”?  Why couldn’t it have been her?  She wondered what was wrong with her.  Why couldn’t she be loved?  Why couldn’t she be treated well?  If not Aviel, why couldn’t she find someone to treat her like a queen when all she wanted to do was to love and be loved?  Why didn’t any man think she was pretty enough?  Why didn’t any man think she was smart enough?  Why didn’t any man think she was worthy enough to be an adored wife?   She muttered, “I hope you are being the best husband you can be.”  She did really mean it but it was the right thing to say.  Besides she was not the type of woman to infiltrate another sister's space.  She never envisioned that after their last encounter eleven years ago that he’d be married.  This was not a reality she was welcomed.  There was an ache in the pit of her stomach, the place where emotion lounge. 

Like most young girls she wanted to be a loving wife.   She remembered when she was a wife.  She tried to be loving.  There were times when she would ache from not being touched by a loving ad kind man.  There were times when her heart would be so heavy from being talked at, talked down, or crushed with the lash of her husband’s tongue.  She remembers feeling abandoned and rejected.   This wasn’t a feeling with which she could never grow to be accustomed.  A wife is supposed be comforted and protected by her husband. 

As she hung up the phone she realized that no matter the age, a woman perpetually loves when she loves deeply.  She felt imprisoned by her current lack of companionship.  The irony is that she never wanted to be alone.  Her desire was to be a loving and respectful wife.  She wanted to reap the love that she fancied sowing.  There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t daydream about being a wife to a loving husband.  There wasn’t a week that went by that she didn’t think about how to respond to the kindness of a man.  There wasn’t a month that went by that  a tear did not fall from the wells of her eyes as her thoughts tried to bloom.  It was like a passion,  like one of Langston Hughes' dreams  deferred, a fantasy that would not be fulfilled.   

 She remembered the first time she laid eyes on Aviel .  It was 37 years ago.  After the assembly before winter break in the Chicago Vocational High School auditorium.  He just stood there.  She caught his eye smiling at her from not far away.  She returned the smile as a welcome message.  She could feel his smile permeate her, it reached in and touched her soul.   His smile was a warm, comfortable, and tender touch that marked her heart for life   It would never leave her because she didn’t want it to ever leave.    She felt like she was home.  Her feet would not move.  They felt heavy and light at the same time.   She did not want her legs to carry her away.  She was not afraid to return his glare.  His eyes set her heart ablaze. They reached her soul.  She stood there helpless with no defense. 
  She was not afraid to feel him feeling her.  She always felt vulnerable because at the age of 16 Maayan needed her father to show her the love she sought from others.  She needed the comfort of a strong man in her life.  She needed the comfort of a loving father to guide her and make her feel pretty.  It was the only thing that could have protected her from the smile Aviel radiated her way that unforgettable day. 

Though Maayan did have a father, he wasn’t willing to be colored a real dad.  He was not engaged in her life so she was open and vulnerable.  She needed love and it seemed she was falling in love right there, in the auditorium, to this fine young man with the warm smile.  Aviel's smile was not seductive.  It  invited her, made her trust him.  She was locked in the moment so it was only natural for her to respond with an unquestionable and an enthusiastic “yes!” when Aviel asked, “do you think we have a chance?”
She doesn’t remember what happened to that comfort she interpreted at their first encounter.   She couldn't remember where it went wrong, when it went sour.   In real life,  love at first sight is most often a recipe for disaster.  Aviel and Maayan’s story was no different.  Maayan thought it would be one of those happily ever after stories like Cinderella.   She didn’t think about the fact that no one knows what happened after Cinderella's prince found her foot to fit into the shoe which possessed him. Thinking back, she should have been more cautious.  Even after so many years, his eyes, his voice, and his touch burned deeply and defenselessly as if in a crossfire.

She remembered how disillusioned she was twice before as she tried to reconnect with his comforting smile and that initial spirit of trust that overtook her in the high school auditorium.  That is was what she longed for all these years.  This  is what she could never forget.  This is what she could not stop feeling.   This  is what haunted her in her flawed marriage.  This  is what haunts her now as she approaches the winter years of her life.    As she stood there in the auditorium frozen and unable to move or speak,  she never thought she’d be his star-crossed lover, destined to be apart of him, as he loved someone else over and over again.  She remembered making love to him that laudable first time and then that wretched  last time.  She basked in the glory of "she was in the arms of her lover" when he stopped in mid stroke to ask her, “who have you been sleeping with?”   At that moment she forgot to enjoy his touch, to enjoy his smell, to enjoy being in his arms again.  She knew it would be the last time.  She began to grieve before the act was complete and he walked her home.  “I’ll never stop trying,” she said as she climbed those five stairs and he backed away from her reach.  What caused this uneasy stink?  Those words, “I’ll never stop trying,” imbued her brain, they sketched a permanent scar across her heart.  It was a mark that would haunt her defected marriage.
Part of her scarred heart would always belong to Aviel.    It would always long for him.  It would always yearn for that introductory sensation that flowed through her and spread like the wings of a butterfly.  She felt all this upon their first glance in the high school auditorium.  Those feelings of comfort, of trust, of protection,  of love would never leave her.   She could have been content there.  She would never forget the way her earth stood in a serene still for moments at his first stare.  The next day, she met the man with whom she would embark on a twenty – one year marriage where she lived in loneliness and fear.  She never understood why she was married and felt so alone.  She was not at home.   In the years she existed in the marriage that began to deteriorate before it started, she could not find home.  Aviel gave her courage to walk away almost eleven years ago.  Today as her thoughts caused her to feel somber, her face fell into her arms and started crying quietly. "Who will love me! What's wrong with me? Who will love me!"

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As she lay on the couch content with  the sound of Aviel’s smiling voice soliciting her help on his business project, she remembered the last time she heard it.  Again she felt a touch of home.  She found it amazing that it had been eleven years since she saw him last, the time.  She was married then, with 3 children.  But she was not happy.   She lived with her husband as a rejected wife he  didn’t touch her until he wanted her on her back.  He spoke few kind words and was more fond of the tools he used to fix his car.  One day when she asked why, he said boldly,  "I only need a woman for two things  and in two places, in the kitchen and the bedroom."   This plagarized man of God and loving husband must have had one hundred ways to make Maayan feel like complete crap. 
She listened to the Dells song , The Love We Had Stays on My Mind over and over again as she lay there thinking of Aviel and how she would never get a chance to be loved by him, to be touched by him,  to have him repossess her youth now gone and forgotten.  Her burning thoughts seemed to never have an ending.  Her memories would not go away.  Instead they intensify and will him in and out of her life.  They  haunt her with what it could have been, what she wished it were. What she feared it will never be.

Eleven years ago when  they reconnected, the passion for a touch of home burned so passionately that she packed up her bags and uprooted her dysfunctional life to feel a touch of home from his smile.   She thought he wanted it too.   She felt him then, it was strong.  She couldn't envision how she'd been wrong.  He must have become afraid of the responsibility.  She must not have pretty enough anymore.  He must not have been attracted to her because her hour glass was long gone or her thighs were too thick.  She must not have been smart enough or had enough drive.  She must have brought with her  too much baggage.  Maybe the children were the baggage.  She was still not sure why she spent the last eleven years waiting for a touch of home.  She never understood why he let her go, again.    And he sits here, on his phone, in her ears, telling her how he met his wife.  She wondered how many times one man could break the same heart.
In each moment she listened,  she felt more hopeless to this “dream deferred”.   She felt a surge of anger rise from the place where she stored her longing.  She was not his help meet.  He didn't choose her.  She was not the one he chose to encourage him.  It was not her responsibility to support his dreams.  He never chose her to be his help meet.  She was not his companion.  It was not her responsibility to be his inspiration.  She had no obligation  to help make him feel good about himself.  She was not his mate.

How could he not know?  How could he not feel her?  Maayan stopped the thoughts before they grew from anger to the ugliness which  lies inside of bitterness.  She needed to unearth the touch of home within her own self.  She was suddenly relieved at her fresh thought and felt renewed because in the stillness of her mind she quickly and silently called upon her Creator for help.  How could she learn to stop being in love with a dream?    She tried to muster up least a soft smile.  She wanted him to hear her smile so that he wouldn’t know how sad she really was.  It was one of the saddest and loneliest smiles she’d ever felt before she declared, "I have an important call coming in that I need to answer."  Then she hung up the phone gently to be left alone again.

Her First Assignment

       The first time she heard him, she stood in the bathroom listening at their shared wall for ten minutes, debating over what would happen if she called the landlord to report the disturbance.  Living in this large building was very different from living in the duplex over senior citizens Mr. and Mama Ward and their two cats in the South Suburbs. She really missed the place.  She felt safe there.  They treated her like a daughter.  She was sad that Mr. Ward passed away so suddenly.  She was perplexed when their son came from California to put his mother in a nursing home.  She tried to tell Robert that she would care for his mother, but he wasn’t having it.  He obviously didn’t want to take care of his own mother, yet he wouldn’t allow her to do it, and she wanted to.  She thought of Mama Ward as the grandmother she never had and she loved the attention Mama Ward gave Naomi.   Aliyah thought it would be a better idea for him to take her back to California with him.  He wouldn’t think of it either. 
       As Aliyah listened to the voice coming from the other side of the bathroom wall, she felt a tingle in her legs.  After a few minutes she wasn’t disturbed any longer but intrigued.  He was always so loud but he had a really good voice.  Unlike hers, it was made for singing.  During the 5 weeks she’d lived in the building, she never heard a female voice coming from behind the other side of the wall.  “Is he married? Or does he have a lady friend?”  He sounds like he could be a little older than, not much, but maybe a little? What does he do for a living? Is he a singer for real? If he is, then why doesn’t he sing any original songs? So, he must not be a real singer? Then was does he do? Why don’t I ever see?”  Aliyah was not disturbed anymore.  Instead she had questions.  She’d decided that the next time she heard his key in the door next to hers, then she’d make up a reason to go out into the hallway.  “What does he look like?” she thought out loud.
       She left the bathroom because she felt like an intruder listening to her next door neighbor in his bathroom.  “OOO, this ain’t right.”  She murmured.  Before turning to leave though she decided to knock on the wall.  “Sh, sh, sh”, she uttered loudly as she knocked.  She was startled by the sudden silence.  Then he began to sing again.  This time though, she could tell he tried to lower his voice.  “Well at least he is thoughtful.” She thought to herself as she left the bathroom to go into her bedroom.
       Teaching at Chicago Vocational High School was Aliyah Levi's first assignment. She chose her outfit carefully. It was a pink and gray business suit she got from Ashley Stuarts’ clearance rack. As she looked at herself in the mirror she asked herself, “who the hell are you?” She knew she needed be more conscious of what she ate and she needed to work out.   She hated her size. She doesn’t remember when it happened but she had a difficult time finding the outfit that would give her the professional look she sought. She wanted to make a good first impression on her colleagues as well as her students. She was eager and very nervous about this position. Initially Aliyah wanted to teach eighth grade at a middle school. She wasn't sure if she could handle the maturity of today's high school students. However, after being overlooked for the perfect position twice, she felt she better take this job. It would give her the experience she needed to reapply for the position she really wanted.
       She spent the entire evening before preparing for her debut as English teacher. She wanted to make sure she got her bluff in right away with these students. CVS was known to be a little rough. She reviewed several issues of Classroom Discipline for Inner City Children taking note of common occurrences that she might face tomorrow. She carefully chose a reading assignment that might be of interest to the students.  It was a short story about a family struggling to make it and overcoming many trials and tribulations.  She wanted to encourage her students  to have courage and patience, and pride within themselves. Aliyah decided to have her students write about the strength and pride the family in the story she chose needed to make it through their day.  She let her daughter Naomi read the story for approval. She was 10 years old going on 40.
       Naomi was very mature for her age because she read so much. It was common to find both Aliyah and Naomi curled up on the chaise lounge together reading. They read silently as well as orally to each other. Like Aliyah, Naomi has always been academic levels above the rest of her class. There was a bookshelf in every room, including the bathroom and kitchen.  Aliyah was a mother who spent much time with her little girl. She became interested in teaching as she volunteered at Naomi 's school and helped her with her homework. She organized a playgroup, which met once per week at apartment, just before Naomi 's sixth birthday.
       Aliyah loved to hear Naomi sing old school music. Her love for R&B and especially the old skool jams was passed to her daughter. However, Naomi stilled also learned to enjoy the rhythms and lyrics of rap music. Aliyah hated it. But, she tolerated it in the house for the sake of her daughter feeling comfortable at home. She did not want to run away to the comfort of friends homes. She  did not mind Naomi sitting in the living room playing her CD's on her box. She knew Naomi would be careful not to scratch them. 
       “Emah, can I get an IPOD when you get your first paycheck?”, asked Naomi
       “Let’s talk about it after the third or fourth paycheck, Aliyah said. 
Aliyah loved art and decor that depicted her heritage. Her house was filled with pictures of Mothers and their children, praise dancers who seemed to be having a good time, as well as men working and taking care of the business. She purchased a piece from an auction that was simply a giant West African baobob tree standing strong and firm near a body of water as she knew her people to be. There was a mountain and waterfall behind it. This piece gave a feeling of peace and serenity. She hung it at the foot of her bed.
       As she laid her clothes out on the sofa, she thought about the difficulty she had trying to finish high school, and raise a child alone. Then, she had the audacity to enroll in college. Her own mother told her she needed to go get a job.   It takes most people four years to finish college. It took her six. Though she had the academic skills, she wanted to properly take care of her daughter. That takes time. She was proud of herself. She finally did it!


            “Oooo, that’s my song!” She stopped her reflective moment to dance

“Ooh-ooh-oh-ooh-oh-ooh-
Ooh-ooh-oh-ooh-
Ooh, yeah, baby
Whoa-whoa-oh-oh-
Mmm…”

        Aliyah allowed her body to get wrapped up in the music. As she listened she snapped her fingers and let her arms and feet be moved by the rhythm behind the words. “It’s so nice to have a man around to lend a helping hand, you can bet.” Yeah, mumbled Aliyah, as she danced to the Temptations. 
“This song was not necessarily an old skool jam but shoot!”  Aliyah thought “but…..”
 “Cause I believe a woman should be treated with the utmost respect, mmm-hmmm….” she danced and sang along.
“Whoa whoa, oh oh, mmm…,”
 “I need a man to touch me”,  she added. 
       Aliyah wasn’t sure whether she missed David because she yearned to be touched or because she really desired his company.  She hadn’t let herself think about him in awhile and she wouldn’t now either. 
“Now I like openin' doors, Pickin' up Yeah her hanky Yeah off the floor,
Treat her like a lady Treat her like lady….”she sang along.  “In this world of liberation, It's so easy to forget, mmm- That it's so nice to have a man around, To lend a helping hand, you can bet, bet you can, baby.
“Who’s gonna touch me”,  she moaned softly to herself.  She didn’t want Naomi to here her.
“When I was young, my mama used to say, Boy A woman's like a flower, with love on her you shower. Ever since that day, her words never went away. I always will remember to treat my baby tender…… How could anybody ask for much more, whoa-ooh-ooh-…..” sang Aliyah as she closed her eyes, bobbed her head and let the music permeate her.
“Man that’s my song, I wish I could be touched”,  she  muttered again as a tear made its way down her check. She sat down in her favorite chair and just snapped her fingers and bobbed her head and moaned, “Man, sometimes it hurt.” She said too loudly. 
“What did you say Emah?” shouted Naomi from her room.
“Nothin lil girl, just singing my song. You are playing Emah some good music this evening” Aliyah shouted back to her. 
       It was David’s touch that held her hostage and she needed to stop toying with herself before she picked up that phone and called him.  Instead, she remembered the sickened pain she felted in the pit of her stomach the last time she saw him as he stood outside her car peering at her through his sunglasses as he told her that she was never in his corner because she wouldn’t skip her class to go with him to pick up his new business cards before the print shop closed.  She was excited for him and proud that he got new business cards but she didn’t think it was an occasion to miss an important class.  He didn’t understand her choice.  Aliyah fought her thinking that the relationship was going nowhere. She tried to make plans for both to take care of their important business and meet afterwards to celebrate.   She loved encouraging him but he couldn’t find it in his heart to share in her moments as well.  Suddenly she remembered that he raised his hand piercing her across the cheeks with the palm of his hand as they walked down the street when he came to walk her home from school.  This was the catalyst.   In that moment she felt sick and tired of being accused of not being in his corner when it was him who was not in her corner.  
       “Naomi, it’s almost time for bed.  You can stop being the DJ now.  Do you have your clothes and book bag ready for tomorrow?  We don’t want to get up with too many things to do in the morning.  I cannot be late my first day” she shouted redirecting her own thoughts more than the little DJ in the other room.    She was not going to let her thoughts take her back there and she was not going to be distracted from making her first assignment a good experience for her students.