See No Evil Hear No Truth

By Monique Carter

As Tracee journeys through life, she sees no evil and she hears no truth. Because of her poor life choices, she finds herself in a multitude of relationships until she can't take it anymore.

Between these sheets you will find some of her real life decisions she made in order to bring her to a humbling position. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Monique D. Carter
• Release date: Aug 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781087890968

Book preview

In fact, the reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.

JOHN. 18:37C (NIV)

Tracee Alisha Gamble

Prologue

The memories, the pain, the lies, the rejection, all to the forefront again as if it was yesterday. My stomach turns and the tears stream down my face, eagerly waiting to speak to my lover. I want to hear their voice to let them know this process will be gruesome, but to save humanity I must do so. You may wonder how come I can't call my lover right now, but they are at work and it would be upsetting if they knew I was hurting. Well, I can’t really say ‘hurting,’ but 'an emotional hiccup’ would be more appropriate. It’s emotional as some days I’m engrossed with pain, and some days it’s a breeze to get throughout the day as if I never experienced lies and deception.

I’ll wait until they call me later so I can share. In the meantime, I’ll talk to my friend Margaret and ask her to come over; we can break some bread together, drink some tea, laugh, cry and tell some jokes. If you don’t mind, I would like you to join us as well.

Welcome to my space. Don't fear for I'm with you: don't be dismayed, for I'm your God. I'll strengthen you and help you: I'll uphold you with my righteous right hand (Isaiah 41:10 - NIV). Fear protects us. In reality, does it really? No. If we continue to hide, if we continue to allow fear to grip us we will never heal. Fear holds us back.

So, here is a glimpse into my life. A life that God orchestrated from the time I was in my mother’s womb. A time I wasn’t even a thought to my parents. Go pull up a chair, relax, take your shoes off. Let’s break some bread together.

Chapter 1 - The Journey

Ring, ring. Hi, Margaret.

Hi, Tracee.

How have you been? I haven't seen or heard from you and I have so much to tell you."

I know. Due to this pandemic so much has changed.

Are you up to coming over later so we can talk?

Yeah, sure. I'll be over in about forty-five minutes. I was just watching the News.

The News? Girl, when you get here you're going to hear some real News. I laughed.

With you, I can imagine. Margaret laughed back.

Okay, in the meantime I’m going to listen to some music. See you in a few.

Later.

Later.

After hanging up the phone, I played some R&B hits and sung to the tunes of Mary J. Blige, Janet Jackson and Alicia Keys. Time seems to go by so fast when I heard a knock on the door. I walk towards the door singing I'm in demand.

Who is it? I asked.

It’s me, Margaret, open the damn door.I turned the knob and opened the door.

Girl, you look good! That blond is working on you with your chocolate complexion. You’ve always been bold and daring. I smile.

Tracee, are you going to let me in or keep me standing in front of the damn door?

I'm sorry come in. I giggle.

You look good too.

Thanks. Girl, I try. Sit over there on the yellow couch. Take your shoes off and relax your nerves. Do you want some green tea or chamomile tea?

No. Neither, give me some orange juice. Margaret said while Tracee walked towards the kitchen.

Listen, let me get whatever you want to drink or eat now so you can be in the moment with me. You ready?

Yes, I'm ready. Tracee stood in the kitchen, reached inside the cupboard and retrieved two flute glasses.

No, no… Are you really ready?

Tracee, would you please go ahead? I have a date later. Margaret said in a frustrated tone.

Oooh! With who? That's what I'm talking about.

I'm not telling you anything until you give me the news.

While handing Margaret the glass of orange juice, Tracee sat on the couch and crossed her legs. I'm pregnant with Dickson’s baby.

What? Margaret jaws dropped.

No, I’m joking. Listen, I think back to when I was born my parents probably deemed me a mistake. I never heard them whisper those thoughts or even acted as if that was the situation. I did feel loved being the first born but when I think about it things not planned are scary, especially a pregnancy.

Margaret, sat up like a student about to learn something new. Here goes my journey. Actually, my journey started years ago. It was a bright Sunday afternoon. The birds were chirping and everything was so bright outside, but I was so bored inside. I laid in my full size bed wearing pajamas with coffee stains on it. With a scarf wrapped around my head looking a hot mess, only I would want to be seen in it. My one bedroom apartment was situated on the first floor in an old tenement building. My bedroom was my safe haven adorned with an emerald green carpet, peach mini blinds, ocean mural painted on the walls, and a mirrored closet directly adjacent to my bed. I never liked curtains; they made me feel smothered. I always knew the way your home is situated can illicit certain feelings."

Tracee, is it something like feng shui?

Margaret, please be quiet and listen. You’re interrupting my thought process.

Fine. I'll shut up.

Now, as I laid in utter boredom, I thought about not having a date or a man in site. I figured I would create some excitement in my life. I decided to look into the Daily News personal ads. There were hundreds of ads of men professing to be a great catch but this one caught my eyes. SBM, 27, 6’2 , 210 lbs, employed, drug and disease-free looking for a sexy SBW. Well, I’m sexy with my dark brown eyes, cocoa skin complexion, curly long hair, and curves in all the right places looking like a coke bottle and definitely eye candy.

Margaret laughed. You sure are confident.

Crossing my eyes and staring without saying a word, Margaret knew that meant Shut up.

Plus, I had been working with the government for years and I don’t use drugs, and don't have any diseases, to my knowledge. So I decided to call. And then the saga began. I introduced myself as Tracee, and he said his name was Dickson. We spent several nights talking on the phone before we met in person. We talked about our family, where we worked, what we enjoyed doing, and what we were looking for in a relationship. The first time we met face to face, he came to my apartment. Since he was late I pretended not to be home and I didn’t open the door. I left and went to my mother’s apartment. Later on in the evening, we spoke and I told him I was at my mother’s. I then told him if he wanted to see me tonight he would have to drive over as I wasn’t coming back home. A couple of hours later he surprised me and came to my mother’s apartment with red roses, and fried chicken.

What a combination.

I thought it was a nice gesture, especially the roses. If you can remember, Margaret, I don't eat meat, not that type of meat. I giggled. You know Dickson always used roses as a way of communication. Red, yellow, white, one time he even gave me purple roses. I think that was his way of taking the spotlight off of his bad, selfish, demonic behavior. I say demonic because there were times he acted more like a demon than a child of God. You know the saying, ‘If it quacks like a duck, walks like a duck, then it must be a duck.’ Remember, God words says you’ll know them by their fruits. Fruits of joy, peace, love, patience, long suffering are found in the hearts of true Christian believers. A long skirt or a bowtie don't make the person. Those are only outer garments but inner praise, worship, and a pure heart the Lord is looking for. Margaret was now listening closely. Anyway, we dated on and off for several years. I should've known then that there were going to be problems up ahead. That was the first sign of a wavering heart, a man who wasn’t stable, a man who couldn't be trusted or depended upon. But I thrusted forward dwelling on what could be and not what it was. I remember one day we were in a worship service at Assemblies of God and he was sprawled out on the floor crying like a baby. I stood by watching and thinking, Yes, he’s saved, yes, he’s a changed man. Once again, a level of mockery and a level of deceit. How can one lay down and get back up the same?"

I don’t know, how? Margaret asked.

I know how. When ill feelings are deep seated in your heart and you mean no good. It’s easy to do if your heart isn’t pure. Out of the heart, the mouth speaks.

What does that mean?

That simply means, what a person says is really what their heart believes. I’m warning you to listen carefully to what a person says, then watch what they do. If it lines up oftentimes, you can take it as authentic or transparent behavior. Remember, when people show you who they are the first time believe them. To do otherwise is a disservice to yourself and the community at large. Everything you do has a rippling effect. My lover would always tell me, Words whisper, actions scream."

Who is your lover?

Hmmm, I'm not going to tell you yet. I smiled.

God, Tracee, another man?

Did I say that?

Actually, you didn’t say anything.

Listen, listen, I continued.

I'm listening.

One day Dickson and I were invited to attend my coworker’s wedding. I was all dolled up with a pretty green sparkling dress and my high heels. My legs were looking like I had been exercising, and my boobs nice and perky as usual. You know, a man’s dreams. I know I looked good. I was dancing to the beats waiting on him to show up, but Dickson never arrived. I spent the night wishing I was dancing with him and looking into his eyes while he held me close. Days later he decided to call with an excuse.

What did dear ole Dickson say?

Something stupid, he fell asleep.

He fell asleep? You mean to tell me he couldn’t have said he had to work? That would’ve been a better excuse.

I know. I responded by telling him to just leave me alone. Afterwards his uncle called begging me to forgive Dickson and to give him another chance. Stupid me, I forgave him. There would be many more times of forgiveness, but as years passed I came to realize I had to forgive me first before forgiving him. We continued our vicious relationship’s cycle. One day we would be loving each other and the next day we wouldn’t like each other. Something like an unfulfilled marriage.

Margaret gave a blank stare as if she was trying to understand. I continued talking ignoring her reaction. The mixed emotions were felt more from him than me. Mine were based on the constant roller coaster ride not knowing when to get off, not knowing when to say ‘stop’ to the madness, ‘stop’ to the ride. I can’t do it anymore. I won’t do it anymore.

Margaret motioned her hands in a up-and-down wave and then landed them on her lap. I rolled my eyes and continued. That, my dear, are the roots of low self-esteem. The roots of not knowing who you are in God. God says we're fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalms 139:14 NIV.) So if that's truth and we don’t believe it, we stay far too long in a relationship when we must let go. Letting go is a process. Not a process for the weak at heart, but for those who are strong in the Lord. Those who trust God no matter what. Those who say not my will, Lord, but your will be done. The Lord will continue to bless you if you continue to trust Him. He told us in Proverbs 3:5-6 to lean not unto your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him and he will direct your paths. Margaret, do you remember when I said I was going away by myself?"

No, which time? Margaret asked with a small laugh.

The following year I took a trip to Cancun, counting the days I'd be home to see Dickson. I truly liked him and desired him. He was supposed to pick me up at the airport but he didn't. Again, he let me down. This time his excuse was that he went to work. We both laughed. Another sign, another warning that I didn't take heed to. So, what did I do instead of going home? I took a taxi cab from the airport to his studio apartment. His apartment wasn't dirty but not exceptionally clean. Dickson had statues around the room, paintings on the wall, and a brown couch with brown carpet. The apartment was somewhat dreary lacking life. Then, in the corner of the room, he had a shot glass with spit in it. None of that mattered. It didn’t matter to me that he didn’t keep his word, all that mattered was that I was going to be able to see him and share some stolen moments.

What? Stolen moments?

Yes, stolen, because his mind, body and soul wasn’t focused on me, but more so focused on how he could feed his demons. The demon of alcohol. The demon of drugs. The demon of deceit. Were those signs?

I guess?

Of course they were. Did I take heed to another sign?

Probably not?

You guessed right. No, I didn’t. Our dates consisted of long talks on the telephone and spending time at each other’s apartments. That was short lived since about two months into our relationship he lost his job. So with me being the good samaritan, I reasoned that I couldn’t leave him alone. He couldn't be abandoned with nowhere to go or no one to turn to. I allowed him to move into my one-bedroom apartment. The day of the move it was a cold winter night. I was so sick coughing, sneezing and my nose dripping, but yet I still went with his uncle to assist. Dickson, his uncle, and I packed up his belongings and placed them in the Uhaul. At the time, I didn’t know why he lost his job. I later found out it wasn't because he was a fine worker and they were downsizing, but it was because he was hanging out with the demons.Why did I think I was responsible for rescuing him? I could not even rescue myself for what laid ahead. I took a deep breath. That same year we went on a seven day cruise to New Orleans. It was so much fun. We danced, met new people, saw people from my high school, ate a lot of different foods, and played games. He even won a prize for dressing up as a woman. As I ponder back, I wonder if he was ever sexually abused, surely he experienced abuse in his home. According to him, his mother was abused by the several men she slept with. She endured physical, mental, verbal and emotional abuse.

Is that how come he demonstrated the same patterns? Margaret asked.

I don’t know probably, I said. I remember one day he came home and he said someone was out to get him and he had to flee. I asked flee where?

Well, where did he go?

"He never told me. I found out by researching. He did flee,