Agape: The Triangle, The Circle, The Cross

By Darryl Montague

When Robert Miller, a high-powered advertising executive falls into a deep depression after his fiancé Tiffany abandons the relationship without any signs of unhappiness, his life is thrown into a tailspin. Not fully knowing how to deal with his heartache, he loses focus with his job, family, and friends. He meets Serena, a single mother with two children, who is not without issues of her own. They develop an unlikely relationship. However, trouble brews when the men of her past resurface and seek to ignite their relationship with her. In the meantime, Robert is faced with revealing a dark family secret that has kept his mother in a mental institution for nearly twenty-years. Having to explain his past becomes a conflict as he expose to his sisters Diamond and Jade that the father they’ve always known, isn’t the man they believed.
Based in the city of Brotherly Love (Philadelphia), AGAPE- The Triangle, The Circle , The Cross is a compelling contemporary story that explores love, relationship, and forgiveness, in the midst of life’s storms. Can a person display unconditional love when he/she has been physically and mentally abused? Is it possible to recover from betrayal when an unspeakable tragedy inflicts an immeasurable pain? AGAPE- The Triangle, The Circle, The Cross allows readers to peek inside the characters’ lives and experience their emotions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darryl Montague
• Release date: Oct 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9780976584384

Darryl Montague

Darryl L. Montague is a gifted writer and motivator who is exceptional in capturing reader’s attention. Darryl utilizes words that tap deep into the hearts of readers, and provides them with the literary nourishment they desire. He is a diverse writer that expresses his writing through poetry, motivational essays, and fiction.Darryl studied literature and writing at Shenandoah College and Conservatory, and later Studied at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond Virginia.Mission Statement: To uplift, motivate and empower people for the possibilities of their lives.

Book preview

AGAPE~The Triangle, The Circle The Cross

Published By: Precious Seeds Media Group,LLC at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 by Darryl Montague

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return toSmashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work

of this author.

This Book Is Also Available In Print At Most Online Retailers

ISBN: 9780976584384

The Triangle

Chapter_One_Infatuation

Chapter_Two_Authentic_Dialogue

Chapter_Three_Secrets

Chapter_Four_The_Gift

Chapter_Five_Disclosure

Book_Two_The_Circle

Chapter_One_Embrace

Chapter_Two_Testimony

Chapter_Three_Mission

Chapter_Four_Crossroad

Book_Three_The_Cross

Chapter_One_Tribulation

Chapter_Two_Redemption

Chapter_Three_Reconcile

Chapter_Four_Choose

Chapter_Five_Closure

The Triangle

Chapter One: Infatuation

foolish, unreasoning, or extravagant passion or attraction

Robert

It was a cold evening in January and the snow had been falling all day. It covered the ground like a thick white blanket. The trees were limped with icicles. The air was brisk, but the evening was calm. Everyone had left the office for the day. The building was dark; all accept the dim light in the office where I sat listening to the sounds of soft jazz and soaking my heart. I had not learned how to deal with my breakup from Tiffany. I was lonely and felt empty. My heart seemed like an empty hull of a cargo ship contaminated with bitterness. I believed I would spend the remainder of my life with Tiffany. She was the woman I wanted to share all of my hopes and dreams. It often felt as if I loved her more than breathing. Many nights I would rest in my bed struggling to keep my mind from thinking of her. There would be moments when I would reminisce of her perfume and my stomach would cramp so badly that it felt like knots were forming. My friends had warned me against giving my heart to her without any hesitance. But, I would always say to them that it was no good to share or offer love without wanting to take a risk. I told them that the beauty of sharing the heart is being able to expose and release the most vulnerable and sensitive areas of who we are. However, I’ve learned there is also a consequence for daring to love so boldly. When it is all done and the person you’ve shared your life decides that you are not the person to share their life, it feels as if you are abandoned in a world with no lifeline, little hope, and a heart ripped to shreds. Each day, the weight of loneliness would lay heavy on my shoulders. I felt a worthlessness, and distance from everything where I was once apart. Every day I prayed for God to place some relief in my life so that I could once again feel loved. I prayed that God would send Tiffany back to me.

Then one evening while driving in the snow I decided rather than going home from work and face the cold white walls that laughed at my pain, I would go dancing and try to forget all the things Tiffany and I used to share. I would not think of the days we would sit in the kitchen talking and laughing or in the gazebo outside my condo sharing intimate secrets. I would not think of the days where we cuddled so close that I could feel her heart beating within me. No, I would not do that at all. I would allow the sound of music to soothe me, while I cast away my sorrows in a dance.

Serena

I’ve had several men in my life—all of them wrong of course. I’m the kind of woman who wants to love, but every time I give my heart, it gets broken. I got married when I was twenty. Back then, everything seemed so perfect, but I’ve since learned that love changes. By the age of twenty-three, I was divorced, and at that time, I had lost a lot of the giddiness of love that consumed that better portion of my life. In many ways, I gave up on love. I gave up on men. And at one point, I felt like giving up on life. Of course, I continued to search for that one perfect man only to understand that there was no such man. Now I am thirty-one with two children, and we live in a world where men aren’t welcomed.

I feel as if all I need are my children. Many nights I have sat lonely staring into the eyes of my bedroom gray-colored walls, remembering my girlish childhood. I can see the smiles I used to share. There are many instances where I would remember my friends and I would talk about the men we would marry. In our minds, they were always the princes that came to sweep us off our feet. I carried that thought with me for a very long time only to find myself exposed to struggles and painful physical and emotional abuse. It was at that moment I decided I wouldn’t search anymore for any man because a man could never provide me with the type of love I needed. What man could ever fit up to the expectation of fully giving himself without worrying if his manhood would be destroyed by his sensitivity? Could there ever be a man who could put away the lust of his desires to be with a woman for the hope of true joy? What man could lose himself in the concept of love and be steady enough to avoid becoming consumed with how society viewed him? What man could give up the need to please his own desires and surrender his heart without any hesitation? If he was ever out there, I’ve never met him. Therefore, I stopped looking and believing that type of man existed. My home had become my refuge, my children were my comfort, and in my mind that was all I needed.

Then one night, my girlfriends got tired of me wasting time at home and asked me to go out with them dancing. So I did. That night I would enjoy myself. It was that night I met a man. He didn’t have to say a word, and I felt he understood what it meant to love. My girlfriends thought I was crazy. When I expressed how I felt, they teased me and thought I was attracted to him because I hadn’t been in a relationship in nearly three years. However, I explained to them that it was more than the need to fuel my desires with his strong hands and comforting touch. My life had taught me that I was more than just a woman who needed savage arousal. I was complete without a man. However, when I saw him, my heart trembled. There was something about his eyes that captured me. I could taste his scent from across a crowded room. I was intrigued, and caught by surprise. He sat alone, watching everyone else have a good time. He looked innocent to me. For nearly thirty minutes, I stared at him, eager to know his thoughts, his pains, and intentions for life. I was in awe. Every now and again, I would glance and catch him peeking at me. His skin shadowed in the dim lights. There was chemistry between us that I couldn’t explain. Blushing like a schoolgirl, I couldn’t keep my eyes away, and that is when my girlfriends finally convinced me to introduce myself. So, I did. I walked over, and asked if he would dance with me. Without hesitation, I stretched my hand to him. When he touched me, I lost my breath. A flutter entered my stomach, and my nerves became unraveled. I escorted him to the dance floor. We talked, danced, and when he held me during a slow song, I could feel a gentleness I had never felt in a man. It was like a settled calm, an exquisite breeze, and a hurt of emptiness. His eyes stared through my soul and the more he looked down at me with his hands wrapped around my waist, the safer I felt. During this brief encounter with him holding me close, I felt comfort. We danced the entire night, and although the room was full with people, all I could see was his face. His skin was brown like cinnamon, eyes dark, and his smile was tender. He captured my heart, and I had no problem letting it go. After all those years of tears and pain with little happiness, I could somehow feel calm in him. It was bizarre. However, I had always been the kind of woman who believes by chance anything could happen. When the night ended, we exchanged telephone numbers, and that’s how it all began. That is when it all began.

Robert

Once I left the nightclub, I couldn’t escape thoughts of Serena. Maybe it was because she had provided me with the attention I craved. It could have been my way of trying to get Tiffany out of my thoughts. No matter the explanation, I couldn’t seem to stop thinking of Serena. The smell of her perfume was on my shirt where she had placed her head against my chest while we danced. I don’t know what it was, but it seemed to me that she was letting go of something, or even someone. The more we danced, the more I felt her heart pressing against my own. What is it about this woman? Why am I so attracted without her having to say one word? When I placed my hand around her waist, it seemed as if she melted in my arms. She felt good to me. I felt needed. I wanted to hold her all night. Thank you God, I whispered in my mind.

When I arrived home, I took her phone number out of my pocket and tossed it on the nightstand. The number seemed to stretch out, beckoning me to call her. But it was now three o’clock in the morning. Only a fool or a stalker would call someone at this hour. Even in my rationale, the seven digits on that white napkin continued to speak.

Call her, they whispered.

What am I to do? I thought. Would it be rude of me? Would I look like some maniac desperate for attention, or would she be waiting on me to make the next move? I sat on the edge of my bed and contemplated whether I would go against every dating-for-men rule I’d ever known. I wanted to dial the number, but I couldn’t. Every male instinct within me said to wait, play it safe, and stay cool. I looked at the number a few more times and decided I would allow her to make the first move. My heart melted with every thought of her. Sweat began to pour off my forehead, and that is when it happened.

Serena

Twice the telephone rang before he answered. I knew I was making a terrible mistake. It was 3:15 in the morning, and I was falling head over heels for a man I had just met a couple of hours before. What was I thinking? This was a big mistake. I knew it. Just when I was about to place the phone on the receiver, Robert’s baritone voice answered.

Hello. I became nervous and couldn’t speak. It felt as if my breath was choking me.

Hello, he responded again with a tone deeper than the first.

Hi Robert. It’s me, Serena. I met you tonight at the club. The phone went silent. I didn’t know what to think. Did I make a mistake for calling him? Maybe he was married. Was this his home phone number or a cell number and he didn’t want the person with him to know a woman was calling? Dozens of questions rushed through my mind, and in a panic, I hurried and pressed the end call button on my cordless, and tossed the phone towards the foot of my bed. Ten seconds passed and I stood in the center of my bedroom looking like a madwoman who had just committed an unthinkable crime. I stared at the phone, and prayed that he wouldn’t re-dial my number.

Why am I acting so crazy? I questioned myself as I walked from one corner of my bedroom to the other. It’s only a man. Get it together or this man is going to think I’m some sort of lunatic. I took a deep breath to calm myself.

Okay Serena. You can handle this, I repeated as if there was some other person standing in my bedroom. I grabbed the phone and re-dialed the number. However, Robert was already on the line. I could hear him clearing his throat, and it seemed as if he was more nervous than me.

Hello, I paused. Robert, I called out his name in a soft and shy voice. He continued to clear his throat.

Hey, hey, why did you hang up? I was just thinking about you right before you called.

The thought of me being on his mind gave me comfort. Perhaps I wasn’t crazy after all for calling him so late. Maybe he was hoping that I called. No matter the reason, we were on the phone with each other, and I was glad.

Well it’s good to know that you haven’t forgotten about me, I replied and trying to sound as sexy as I could. I hoped I wasn’t just a one night dance. He laughed in a soft tone. I could see his smile as if he was still holding me close while we danced.

No. You were definitely more than a one-night dance. I was thinking I should call you, but I didn’t want to seem like a stalker. After all, it is 3:30 in the morning. But now that you’ve called me I guess you can take the stalker title.

Cute, but if this is not a good time for you—we can talk some other time. Although, I thought his comment was funny, there was no way I would give him the upper hand of our conversation. I said nothing for a few seconds.

Hello, he responded, and searching to see if I was still on the line. Wait. Hold up, he said quickly. Don’t hang the phone up on me again. This is a good time for me. I’m not tired, and if you’re up to it—let’s talk. The balance was now in our conversation, and I felt comfortable about where we would begin. I liked Robert, but there was no way I would let him think by my calling him—gave him some sort of upper hand.

We talked until 4:30 that Saturday morning. The conversation was great. I shared with him the only reason I was at the club was because my girlfriends got tired of me acting like an old lady that never does anything. He then caught me off guard by saying that from the first moment my girlfriends and I entered the club, I had his attention, and the room seemed to have stopped as I walked passed. He knew at some point during the night he had to know my name. As he continued to speak and shared with me how beautiful he thought I was, I began to blush with a tingling feeling pulsing in my stomach. Yes, it all seemed like the same lines that would normally come out of the mouth of a man, but there was sincerity when Robert shared how he felt. I could feel he was being honest. I believed him.

During my life, I’ve heard so many lines from useless men that I knew when a man was talking just to see if he could get inside my head and in my bedroom. What most men don’t understand is that women have heard every imaginable pick up line in the book. From the time any of us began showing maturity in our breast or behinds—men have tried countless of ways to lure us. I would always say to my friends because of all the pain I’ve experienced—God equipped me with a gift to recognize a dishonest man. That is how I knew Robert was being truthful.

An hour passed and that’s when we decided to get off the phone and meet up with one another later that afternoon. When I placed the phone back into the cradle, I felt good about the conversation with Robert. The burden of bitterness that lived in my heart for years had taken a pause. For a brief moment, I allowed the lure of Robert’s flirtation to excite me. It was something about him that had me wanting to let go or at least give him a chance to know me. I know it seems crazy because I only knew Robert for a few hours. But, for at least one moment, I didn’t allow my resentment for men to pass judgment. Why? I don’t know. Yes, it all seems foolish, but somehow I was at ease. Why was I at ease? I don’t know. It simply felt safe.

Robert

I was tired from being on the phone with Serena until 4:30 in the morning. Friday had already seemed like a long day with everyone in the office needing something from me, and I had the audacity to make it even longer by going out dancing and talking on the phone until the wee hours of the morning. No matter my exhaustion, I was excited that I had met a wonderful woman, and she was equally excited about me. Maybe the feeling was nothing more than the need to be noticed by someone. Perhaps this was a knee jerk reaction to rebound from the hurt I was feeling. Whatever the reason for my attraction didn’t matter because I felt revived.

When I climbed from the bed that Saturday morning, there was an extra pep in my step, and I was ready to explore my date with Serena. Just like a woman, I fidgeted with my outfits to make certain I wore the perfect thing. My apartment looked a mess. Clothes were all over the place. I had my stereo blasted. I know that Tom my neighbor must have thought I was losing my mind. I never played music loud.

Tom walked over and banged on my door. He was a small fragile Italian man. He appeared timid in character but was a ferocious lion that got whatever he wanted. He reminded me of Joe Pesci’s character in the movie Goodfellas. I suppose it was because he grew up in the middle of South Philadelphia, and learned to take care of himself. Tom and I had gotten to know each other well over the past five years. When I first moved into the building, Tom was the first to greet me. Tom worked as an attorney through his own practice and seemed to take on the most peculiar clients. He had once shared with me a case about an elderly woman who had filed suit against a pet shop. She claimed her parrot of three years choked and died from the wrong bird food. Tom discovered and proved that the pet shop tampered with the labeling of the products, and caused the death of the parrot. Due to their negligence and fraudulent action, his client suffered mental anguish. The jury found the store franchise liable, and granted the woman a $75,000 dollar settlement. Tom then told me from the settlement; the old lady started a wild life preserve camp for birds that were being mistreated by their owners.

Tom banged on the door harder. I could barely hear his knock. The music blasted through the speakers. When I opened the door, Tom stood in the hallway dressed only in his boxers and a blazer to cover his upper body. He had a look of frustration and annoyance. Not to mention he looked like a zombie who had been awakened from centuries of sleep. It was a good thing that only he and I shared the top level of the building. If anyone else would have saw him standing in the hall in just his boxers and a blazer—they would have thought he’d lost his mind. Even worse, they would have wondered why he was exiting my apartment in just his underwear.

Robert, is everything okay? He stepped across my threshold and peeked inside the apartment. I hadn’t noticed the small baseball bat he had in his hand until he fully stepped inside.

Yes. I’m fine Tom. Why do you ask? Tom walked further in the room and continued to search as if he had lost something. I stood at the door and held it open.

I didn’t know what was going on Robert. He straddled the bat above his left shoulder. I heard the loud rap music, and I thought maybe someone had gotten into your place. I have never heard you play music so loudly. I was a little concerned. What’s the deal anyway? Are you having some sort of emotional break down? If so, I have a therapist client who handles patients like you. I can get you a visit without any problems. I know you’ve been going through it since Tiffany packed her things and left.

I’m fine Tom, I answered while laughing in the same breath. I’m enjoying my morning. It’s a beautiful snow day, and I’m just soaking it all in.

Hmm, he responded in disbelief and walked towards the door. If you say you’re fine Robert—I’ll accept it. But for the love of God brother, can you lower the volume on the music?

Not a problem Tom, I’ll turn it down.

Just when I thought I finally had him out the door, he turned and looked at me.

One more thing, he said as he pointed his finger. Just to let you know—you’re a long way off before spring cleaning. So, you can probably pick up all your clothes from the floor. However, I did see a nice turquoise pin-stripe shirt over there just in case you’re throwing it out.

Thanks for your concern Tom, but I’m not spring cleaning. I slowly closed the door to send him away.

Just as I was about to hop in the shower the telephone rang. I turned my music back on just a little, and continued to listen to a little L. Whenever I needed to relax, I would pull out some of my old sounds from when I was a teenager. I had a little Run DMC, Whoodini, UTFO, Treacherous Three, Grandmaster Flash, and the Real Roxanne. If things were crazy for me, I would play Time with Morris Day, and pretended I was Jerome doing the Bird or The Walk.

However, on this occasion I found myself blasting a little L. I Need Love poured through the speakers. The hot beat and funky melody had me ready to meet up with Serena. I had always loved that rap. It reminded me of being fifteen and falling in love for the first time. The lyrics would have me reminiscing of the evenings I would sit in my bedroom with my feet up against the wall and talking to Tanya who was my teenage girlfriend. I don’t know what it was about LL’s I Need Love—back in the day, young girls loved it. One day I sat in my room rewinding and fast-forwarding my cassette tape just to write down all the lyrics. Once I learned every word, I would sing it to Tanya and she would melt. There was this one time when she and I were sitting on the stoop of her front porch during the summer. It was about 7:30 in the evening. The sun was just about to set. She and I had been talking and playing all day. I had even walked five miles to get to her house. Back then, a young man would do anything to see his girl. Heck, I wish I had that type of stamina now. As we were sitting on the stoop, I Need Love came on the radio. Immediately, I went into my b-boy player’s mode. Tanya sat in front of me. I began to rap the lyrics. She loved my performance. She hung on to every word that came out of my mouth. It was almost as if I was giving her a personal Cool J show. When I finished—I had her so caught up, she leaned forward, and French kissed me. It was the real deal. I had pecked kissed her or kissed her on the cheek many times before, but this time she put a wet one on me. I grinned from ear to ear. Wow, I thought to myself. Ever since then Cool J was cool with me. If it weren’t for that song, I would have probably never gotten my first kiss or my first heartbreak.

When I answered the phone, it was Harry. We’ve worked together four years and have become close friends.

Hello.

Rob. What’s up? he yelled through the phone. I tried catching up with you last night. You were nowhere to be found.

Yeah, I know. I looked at the time and knowing I had to leave soon. I didn’t come home from the office. I decided to go out to the club for a change of pace.

Harry laughed.

You? He paused. You went to the club? He laughed harder. You got to be kidding me. You don’t ever go out. I’ve been asking you to hang out for almost three years, and every time I’ve asked—you’ve always made some excuse about having to be with your woman. The last time I asked was about three weeks ago, and you started tripping about going to church. Bruh, you’re having some kind of an emotional breakdown. You had better get that checked and quick. I got a therapist friend who would sit down and talk with you if you want me to put you down. He began to laugh even more.

Harry, I don’t mean to rush you Bruh, but I got somewhere I need to be by twelve. Can I hit you on the cell later?

Not a problem, but don’t forget me. Rob, I need to talk with you about something important. I’m serious. I need you on this one.

Yeah, okay. I got you, I answered knowing that every issue with Harry was major. Harry was the first person I met who seemed to have an emergency about everything. His sense of urgency would have people running red lights and chugging food down their throats at a restaurant as if it was their last meal. Outside of Harry making it feel like his problems are more important than anyone else’s—he’s a good friend. Harry is what women would call the ultimate bachelor or the perfect catch. His life seemed in order. He did well on the job, had a great crib, and most women found him attractive. The only problem with Harry was that he had issues trusting women. I don’t know his issues—but he treated women like a game. His motto for women was catch and release. He treated women like fish on a line. He wouldn’t allow them to know too much, and would not get emotionally involved. I don’t know how he keeps the charade going. Every woman was fair game. However, I could never find fault with him because he never led them on, and always told them exactly how he felt. But for some reason the women saw what they needed on the outside, but if any of them would take a closer look at Harry’s character—they would know he’s an intimacy ticking time bomb ready to explode at any moment.

Before I hung up the phone with Harry, I wanted to make certain he had a real problem. He assured me that there were no games this time, and that he needed some real advice. I took him at his word. There were instances when he would get nervous about something, and it turned out to be nothing at all. There was this one occasion when he called me over to his place as if it was on fire. He scared me so badly that I didn’t even wait to hear the whole story before I drove to his apartment to see what was wrong. When I arrived, Harry answered the door with nervous sweat pouring down his head as if he had been playing ball for hours.

What’s up Harry? I asked and not fully knowing back then—Harry had drama like teenage girls.

Rob, I need your help, he said as he paced and stuttered.

What’s up? I repeated my question. Is it money? Do you need something? Is somebody after you? I asked ten questions in a minute. I didn’t know what was wrong. I had grown up in DC, and if one of your boys said they needed you—then something was about to jump off. I didn’t expect to hear what came out of his mouth.

Peep this. He stood next to me and placed his hand on my shoulder. I messed up. I uhm—I got myself committed to two engagements this evening, and I can’t go to them both. I was wondering if you could attend one on my behalf.

What? I responded and looked at him like he had lost his mind. I wanted to punch him in the mouth. Is this your emergency? You could have told me this over the phone. I thought you had a real problem! I ought to----.

No. No. No, Rob, he stuttered. This is real stuff. I promised these two women that I would escort them to their functions, and I don’t want to let them down. Listen Rob, I need you on this one. I mean this should be an honor for you. I wouldn’t trust anyone else with this. You know—cause I don’t have any other friends who could be as nearly as charming as me.

Again, I looked at him, and still wanted to punch him in the head.

Fool you crazy. I ought to slap you upside the head for having me nervous. I thought you had some real issue. No. I won’t help you. Crazy.

I began to walk out the door. I was pissed. This was my first time ever having to deal with his drama. Well, it turns out that I did help him, and it was a good thing because Tiffany was one of the young women he had promised to escort, and she ended up becoming the love of my life.

It was now ten o’clock and I needed to hurry for my date with Serena. Still I hadn’t made a decision if I should put on slacks, jeans, or sweats. Should I go very casual or business casual? Serena lived forty-five minutes from my apartment. Due to the heavy snow on the ground, the drive would take an hour. I jumped in the shower, grabbed an apple from the dining room table, got dressed, and rushed out of the door. The time was getting late.

The entire ride I felt nervous. My palms were sweaty, and it seemed like my heart was going to leap through my chest. I didn’t know why I was so nervous. We had already hit it off. Maybe it was because I was in a relationship for so long that I didn’t know how to act towards someone new.

As I continued to travel to Serena’s, I barely focused on the road. I was in a daze the entire drive. Some dude in a blue Cadillac put his middle finger up.

He yelled, Keep in your lane before you kill somebody. Don’t you see all this snow?

I looked at him and nodded my head. The light turned red. This was an opportunity for me to get myself together. I was only a block away from where Serena lived, and I could not allow myself to look like a nervous boy afraid of a woman. I wiped my forehead with a napkin that was left in my car seat from when I had gone to the coffee shop the day before to get a bagel. I placed one of my favorite mix CDs in the CD player. Trouble Funk blasted through the speakers. If Go-go music couldn’t get me hyped—then nothing else would. When the light turned green I pulled off, and my ego was exactly where I needed it. I was energized by the music. The more the music played—the better I felt. The next thing I knew was that I was pulling up to the front door of Serena’s apartment yelling from the top of my voice the lyrics from the song. For a brief moment, I was charged and seemingly ready to do the date. I let the engine run for a few minutes hoping Serena would hear the music, and come to the window. I thought if she invited me to come inside it would kill the awkwardness of having to knock on her door. She never came. Wow. It was a shot to the ego.

As I sat in my car, my heart slowly began to sink from my chest to my underwear. I couldn’t remember the last time a woman had me feeling so awkward. Even when Tiffany and I had first become acquainted—I didn’t feel as nervous.

What is wrong with me? I thought.

I took a deep breath, and decided it was time to get out of the car. One last time I looked towards the window hoping Serena would notice me. Still she didn’t come. I stepped out of the car, walked to the door, and stopped. I mean I stopped. I stood there looking like a fool. My heart raced a mile a minute. There I was a grown man acting as if I was some teenage boy. Daddy would not be proud. I knocked. I waited a few seconds. I turned around and looked towards my car as to say, Run now. You don’t have to do this. It’s too early to pursue another woman. I knocked again. Still, there was no answer. I looked at the outside number of the apartment door to make certain I was knocking at the right apartment. I was already nervous. I didn’t want to look like a fool—and at the wrong apartment. I knocked a third time. I place my ear to the door to try to hear if someone was coming. I was now looking like a maniac. A smarter man would have turned and walked away.

Why don’t you just call her Robert? I said while pulling my phone out of my pocket. I could hear the ringing of her house phone through the door. She didn’t answer.

Now I know this woman didn’t blow me off, I thought. We had gotten off on such a good start. I refused to believe Serena would treat me like that. I knocked on the door once more, and again place my ear against the door to see if I could hear anything.

I heard the shower running. I knocked one last time, but harder. Boom, Boom, Boom! That is when I noticed there was a doorbell directly to the upper left corner of the doorframe. So I pushed it, and hoped she would hear. The water stopped.

Who is it? she yelled.

Robert.

Hold on one second Robert. I’ll be there in a minute.

I waited a couple of seconds. The thoughts that ran through my mind of her climbing out of the shower excited me. The pastor would not have liked what I was thinking. I couldn’t believe what I was thinking. I had to somehow rid myself of the fantasies that tried to invade me. The last thing I wanted was to have her think I was some salivating dog waiting to attack her at any moment. Get it together, Rob, I chanted. Calm down. It’s only a woman taking a shower.

She opened the door.

Sorry, I kept you waiting. Come inside. I was in the shower. Have a seat. I will be with you in a minute.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. There she stood in front of me and directing me to the things I should do—while she was wrapped in nothing but a beach towel. Although it covered her body from head to toe, the water was still wet on her body, and beaded on her neck. I looked at her, and she was beautiful. Not that I’m a pervert or anything, but stick a beautiful woman half-naked in front of any man, and watch his reaction.

This must be a test, I thought. Either God was seeking to see if I could get pass the moment or the devil was tempting me. I felt like Job when God said to satan, Have you considered my servant Job? It seemed like I was in the middle of a game. A month earlier, I had given my life to Christ, and decided that my life needed some change. When Tiffany left I needed some hope, and I found myself walking through the doors of AGAPE Baptist Church. The pastor had spoken on who gives you joy, and used this wonderful illustration from an Anita Baker song, You Bring Me Joy." He preached that no other person can bring you joy. Perhaps someone can offer you joy—but real joy and love comes through the Lord. The sermon moved me in such a way, I found myself walking down the center aisle and offering to surrender my life to Jesus.

I didn’t come too early did I? I wondered whether I should go back to the car and wait because the Bible teaches to flee from temptation—especially sexual temptation. I had to make a choice of running or taking a seat on the sofa. Five seconds I stood in a silly daze.

No you’re on time. I’ve been on the phone with my mom, and I had to rush to get ready.

I looked at her. She looked good.

You take your time and get dress. I will wait outside in the car until you’re ready.

She looked at me as if I was strange, and she saw that I was uncomfortable.

Robert you don’t have to wait in your car. It’s cold outside. I’ll be ready in a moment. Go ahead and have a seat. She directed, and demanded that I enter the apartment.

Can I get you something while you wait?

Only if she knew what was going through my mind. Stop the thoughts Robert, I repeated in my head. Luckily for me, I was able to remember a scripture pastor had just taught during last week bible study. Flee from sexual temptation. All other sins a man commits are outside his body, but he who sins sexually, sins against his own body. The bible study was so intense it had me questioning my entire relationship with Tiffany. Sure we were about to get married, I thought anyway, but even the engagement didn’t protect us from our sexual sins. I returned out of my thought and placed my attention back on Serena.

No I’m okay, I answered, and tried my best to hide the hunger for her that was beginning to appear on my face. The entire time I spoke—I focused on other places in the room. You go and get some clothes on your body. I’ll be fine. I waved my hand as to scoot her out the room.

She walked to the TV that was sitting on a silver stand in front of the window, and across from the sofa where I was sitting. Well at least allow me to turn the TV on while you wait.

As she bent forward to turn on the television, the towel opened just a little and revealed the upper portion of her thigh. I know I shouldn’t have looked, but I couldn’t resist. She must have felt me staring because as soon as she turned on the television she looked at me, stood quickly, and tossed me the remote.

Lord, forgive me, I said. But you made this, not me.

My nervousness was now gone. I fumbled through the channels until I came to an episode of Sanford and Son. It was a good thing she had cable. If it weren’t for the cable, I would have been bored and continued to think savagely about her nakedness beneath the towel. Fred had me laughing and thinking about my dad who could sit in front of the television for hours because he thought Redd Foxx was a comedic genius. There would be many conversations my father and I would have about Redd Foxx, Flip Wilson, and Richard Pryor. My father would sometimes say, Don’t let the television fool you. Those men may seem as if they are not in a struggle—but they are. They are black men paving the way for a new generation of comedians.

Serena

I don’t know what I was thinking. I know I shouldn’t have answered the door with just a towel covering my body. Now this man may think I’m some kind of nymphomaniac or somebody he could sleep around with when it’s cold outside. I should have had better judgment. My actions had me second-guessing my readiness to pursue a man. Perhaps I should have given a little more thought to us getting together. I’m thirty-one years old, and should have investigated a little bit before I allowed him to come over. Uh----, It all feels so desperate now. Let me go out there and tell him right now that it isn’t that type of party. I am so embarrassed. But what was I supposed to do? I didn’t want him standing in the hall and waiting. After all, I was the one that lost track of time from talking on the phone with my mother. I hurried to answer the door. I made the wrong decision. The more I directed him inside the apartment, the more it felt as if he was watching the water that was running down my neck. Perhaps he wouldn’t think much of it. Maybe it’s just my imagination getting the best of me, and Robert isn’t the type of man who only thinks of sex. What am I talking about? This is a man. I’ve never met any man who didn’t get aroused by the smallest of things. It seems as if the tiniest glimpse of what is possible ignites the candlewick of a man’s lust. Well it isn’t much I can do about it now. The only thing left to do is go out there, and put on my game face and act as if the towel incident never happened.

Robert

The apartment was small. The living room was tan and brown with an almond border in the center of the walls. Displays of African art sat on a small round oak antique table at the front entrance wall. The upkeep of the apartment was nice. Pictures hung on the wall of her son and daughter. The décor of the room was impressive. I was even more impressed by a picture she had of this black man and woman holding on to one gold ring, and standing underneath a big oak tree with sun rays beaming through. It was a beautiful piece of art, and it allowed me to get some insight of Serena’s character.

When Serena came out of the room, her outfit was similar to what I was wearing. It had to be a sign.

So, are you trying to dress like me? I sarcastically asked.

Don’t flatter yourself. I had chosen this outfit before you arrived.

You’re kind of sensitive, I said smiling. I was only kidding.

She just looked at me.

So, what are you watching?

"I’m not really watching it, but it’s an episode of Sanford and Son. I was trying to keep occupied until you finished getting dressed. I actually thought you would take other twenty-minutes or so. I know how long it takes women to get all dolled up.

Excuse me? Her neck rolled and her eyes followed in suit with a slight bit of irritation in her voice. Did you say dolled up? I think you just insulted me, she squinted. Are you implying that I’m only beautiful if I get dolled up?

No. No. That’s not what I meant, I said and hoping to retract my statement. I was going down and there was no escape from the tumbling.

No. Please, I begged. "Don’t get me wrong. You are already beautiful. I just meant women take forever to get dressed.

Huh, she replied again as I was batting zero for two.

Stop, you know what I’m trying to say.

She smiled with a smirk on her face. I took a deep breath. I felt as if I wasn’t making a good impression.

Now who’s the sensitive one? she laughed.

I didn’t keep you waiting too long, did I? she then asked. My eyes settled on every movement of her lips. Her beauty mesmerized me.

No you were okay. It wasn’t as if I was going anywhere. I wiped my forehead from the constant fumbles I had already made.

Yeah I know. That’s why I took my time, she smartly remarked, smiled, and leaned against the sofa.

You’re kind of sarcastic aren’t you?

Only to people I find attractive. She grabbed one of the pillows from the sofa and placed it in her lap. I don’t know why, but I’ve been doing it since I can remember liking boys.

Is that right?

Yeah. That’s right.

Well. It’s good to know you find me attractive, I responded while patting my face as if I was looking in a mirror.

We laughed.

So, tell me what would you like for us to do this afternoon?

I don’t know. I thought you had all the plans.

She was right. I was supposed to have orchestrated our date.

I did have some plans. However, I would rather sit here and get to know you. Is it okay if we just talked, and then later we can go out for an early dinner?

That sounds like a good plan to me, she responded, and seeming like she was glad I had suggested sitting at her place to relax. I’m kind of tired anyway. Somebody kept me on the phone all morning, and talking about phone—you hung up in my face.

Oh I did? I’m sorry. I thought you had already hung up.

She knew I wasn’t telling the truth.

Why are you lying? You know you hung that phone up on me. I was about to say goodbye, but before I could get the words out, all I heard was a dial tone. Not to mention, I thought I heard you snoring a couple of times during our conversation. I tell you—that was not the best way to make an impression.

You’re right. I said when I came over, I would apologize. I grabbed her by the hand.

Please forgive me. It won’t happen again. I was tired, and wanted to go to bed. Friday was a long day for me, and by the time I got home from the club—I was ready for bed.

Why didn’t you just say so? I wouldn’t have kept you on the phone so long. I knew you were getting sleepy because every now and then, I would ask you a question, and you would pause nearly ten seconds before you responded.

I know. I apologize. But the truth is—I really wanted to talk to you. We had such a wonderful moment at the club; I couldn’t stop thinking about you. So when you called—I was excited to hear from you.

Serena smiled. She blushed. I had gotten a few brownie points. Then unexpectedly, she grabbed the pillow from behind her, and hit me.

You have too much game for me, she said smiling. But for real though—next time, just say you’re tired.

At that moment, I concluded—Serena was crazy. She didn’t know me from Adam, but she hit me. She was my kind of woman. We were getting off to a great start.

Next time I will. I winked my eye, and smiled.

So what do you want to talk about? she asked.

Let’s talk about you, I responded.

What about me? What do you want to know?

I want you to tell me anything that you don’t feel is too personal. Then, I’ll share with you anything about me you want to know. That way we would know something other than our telephone numbers and favorite club hang out.

She smiled.

Chapter Two: Authentic Dialogue

Conforming to fact and therefore worthy of trust, reliance, or belief

Serena

Where would I begin? I was puzzled. I don’t know why it is so hard for me to share my life. I seem to get lost, and I act as if I know nothing of who I am. I bet if someone were to say, I’ll give a million dollars to you if you tell me your life story, I wouldn’t be able to keep quiet. Robert looked at me and waited for me to say something. Then he tried to help me by asking about my children.

Tell me about your children. How old are they?

As you can see from the pictures on the wall, I have a son and daughter. Neither one of their fathers are worth a penny.

I looked at him when I said fathers. I know what must have been going through his mind.

She has children by two different men. He was even beginning to look stunned.

So I asked him, Are you okay? You look puzzled about something.

Oh, I’m sorry. I was just thinking about your children. You did say fathers, right? So your children don’t have the same dad?

Yes that’s right. Is that going to be a problem for you? I answered and getting a little defensive at his reaction. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I always feel like I’m going to be judged by men because of my children.

No. It’s not a problem. What are their names? Your children—I mean.

My daughter name is Raven, and my son name is Terrence. Raven is ten and will be eleven later this month. Terrence is four and he’ll be five in June.

Wow. That is a huge difference in their ages. I know it must be hard trying to balance them.

Yes it is. And, it doesn’t help that Raven believes she is his mother.

Do they see their fathers much?

Raven will see her father every now and then. My son has never known his dad. It doesn’t bother me though—because his father wasn’t good for us anyway.

I began to loosen up. I felt comfortable talking to Robert. His timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I had a lot of things on my mind, and never had anyone I could sit down with and honestly share. Whenever I tried talking to my girlfriends—it always seemed as if they ended up dominating my time with their own drama. Robert on the other hand listened attentively. His eyes even began to tear when I told him of some of the things I had experienced. I let him know that my relationship with Raven’s father began when I was eighteen. We had met during my second year in college. I was working over at Fisk’s Department Store to earn some extra money for tuition, books, and things like that. My parents didn’t have a whole lot, but they found the resources to get me in college. One day while leaving from Fisk’s—this guy called out to me.

Serena, he whispered. I turned to see who was calling me but I didn’t see anyone. So I continued to walk. He whispered my name once more.

Serena. I turned again because I knew I wasn’t going crazy. Lucky then walked from behind one of the pillars laughing. I didn’t find it funny at all. I continued to walk towards my car. You would think he would have caught the hint but Lucky was persistent. He ran to catch up with me, and introduced himself. I should have known at that moment—he wasn’t somebody I should get involved with romantically.

I’m sorry, he said. But I wanted to meet you. I was in the store earlier and you were the cashier who handled my purchase. You might not remember me, but as I left the store, I couldn’t stop thinking of your beauty. I wanted to come back inside and introduce myself, but I didn’t want to disturb you from your work. By the way, my name is Lucky—Lucky Johnson.

He placed his hand out for me to shake. I looked at him like he was crazy. I said to myself that this had to be the corniest and weakest name and come on line I had ever heard. I walked away. There was no way on God’s green earth was I going to fall for such a line. I knew he was a lunatic. But as I walked away, he recited and yelled the most beautiful poem. It stopped me dead in my steps. I remember that poem to this day.

"My black woman. My beautiful black woman.

Here I stand listening to nothing but your heart.

It speaks loud, but as subtle as the ocean waves, which dance upon the seashore.

It calls out to me screaming, ‘I will not run from you!’

My black woman. My beautiful black woman.

You are my soul, my hope, my eternity,

You are my silent warrior.

When he recited the poem, I felt like that black woman that was running. I can’t explain how he said the poem, but he caught my attention. It was the first time I had ever heard anything recited so beautifully. No matter what lame name he used to call himself, he had my attention. From that day forward, he and I became inseparable. Everything about Lucky was smooth, and romantic. He wasn’t the most attractive man, but whenever Lucky spoke—he sounded poetic. God had given him a voice tone that captured the attention of people. I used to go watch him perform jazz poetry at this club on Market Street. Women loved him. My parents loved him. My only problem with Lucky was that he was selfish—and didn’t really want to share his life. He had a mentality that the world owed him. Every conversation we had pertaining to life—always resulted with it being about his needs.

Well, after two years of being together, he proposed and I said yes. We were engaged for five months and had a small wedding. Six months later, I was pregnant. I was twenty years old, and in my last year of college. It wasn’t the best decision, but love will sometimes make us do strange things. No matter the advice anyone with good sense try to give—many of us will turn a deaf ear and do what we think is best for our lives. Oh don’t worry, I know better now. It seemed as soon as Lucky and I got settled—he decided to drop out of school to pursue his dreams. I tried to convince him to at least graduate, but he didn’t think there was anything college could teach him about being a musician. I was angry. I knew how important college was for the both of us. As much as I tried to convince him to finish school, he would never consider it. I don’t know if bad karma came as a result of him deciding to pursue his dreams—but soon after he made that choice, the marriage began to fail. Our lives didn’t have direction, and everything spiraled out of control. First, Lucky dropped out of college. He then quit his job. There were nights we would lay next to each other and wouldn’t say a thing. When I look back at the entire situation—I’m blown away by it all. I can blame much of it on us being young and naïve, however, I can say that Lucky didn’t know what it meant to be a husband or a man. We would argue all the time about him understanding the responsibility of chasing a dream, and the importance of taking care of family. There was no balance in our relationship. He couldn’t seem to grasp the concept that we were to be united as one.

Then one day during my third month of pregnancy, Lucky came home and told me he was planning to travel with a jazz band to sing and perform Spoken-Word across the country. Of course, that didn’t sit well with me. Managing the stress of pregnancy and keeping up in school was too much for me. However, Lucky would not change his mind. He was convinced that he would change our lives through his music. He believed his success as a musician would provide us with everything we ever wanted, and all he needed was a chance to prove his dreams were real. I had grown up in a household where my mother stood by every decision my father made. So being the faithful wife—I tried to support Lucky in his dreams.

The next thing I know my husband is all over the place singing and performing in different cities. Every now and again, he would send a little money home, but it wasn’t nearly enough to support me in school or becoming a parent. So, I had to make a decision. One Saturday afternoon, Lucky called me from Virginia. He was performing in this club called the Underground. I told him that he had to make a choice. He had to decide if our marriage and child was more important to him because I couldn’t handle the bills by myself. I pleaded with him to return and to become the father our child would need. We argued for hours on the phone that Saturday. As much as I tried to explain to him that he could work his musical career at home—he kept saying that I didn’t understand his passion. I remember screaming during one portion of the conversation, Lucky, you have lost your mind! This has nothing to do with passion. This has everything to do with you being a man and a father to our child. Can’t you understand that?

It seemed as soon as I finished yelling, Lucky hung the phone up in my face. I didn’t know how to respond, so I did what I thought would be a reasonable solution. I called his mother. I knew it wasn’t going to be a good conversation, but I had hoped that because we were both women, she would understand. That wasn’t the case at all. Mrs. Gloria answered the phone like you wouldn’t believe.

What you want? she picked up and I didn’t know if she knew it was me or not, because there was no caller id. So, I thought that maybe Lucky had called before me.

Mrs. Gloria, I replied. It’s me Serena.

Who? she responded and at that point, I realized this conversation wasn’t going to go well at all.

Your son’s wife, I answered.

Oh you. What you calling me for?

I didn’t know how to take her