A Lie Don't Care

By JC Anderson

A Lie Don't Care follows Darnell as he tries to complete a promise he made to his parents on their dying beds to become a Pastor and follow in his family's footsteps. He's not a true believer, but he's a great actor, and everyone is fooled. Even his wife and children are blind to his ingenuity. Only his y

• Language: English
• Publisher: JC Anderson - Author
• Release date: Sep 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781088056011

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Clear liquid burns a path down her throat, pooling with the rest of the bottle in her stomach. She sits at the bar, empty stools on either side of her, though the bar is filling up. All strangers. She’s a face in a room of fellow indulgers, searching for the next high. It was her favorite bar for that very reason. She could hide in plain sight. Another two ounces of straight vodka glides down her throat. She stills the dizziness rumbling through her head before pouring another. A regular, the bartender gives her the bottle, choosing to serve the other customers rather than refill her glass every few minutes. After years of drinking, mixed drinks no longer produce the results she wants. Half-way through the second bottle and she feels the numbness she’s grown to appreciate.

There was no child abuse. Abusive relationship. No traumatic experience convoluted her addiction. Neither was it a crutch to deal with the aftereffects of a cursed past. It was simple, though abnormal. She liked the taste. One drink and she was hooked. The consequences of overindulging were the icing on the cake - mindlessness, courage, and lack of reticence. Except, she’d never been one to act out, and drinking thankfully didn’t change that. Frankly, she didn’t know what drove her infatuation, other than it was just too hard to stop. She’d tried a few times over the years. Night sweats. Trembling hands. Cottonmouth. Uncontrollable anxiety. The symptoms thwarted her effort within a couple of hours. One sip caused them to abate immediately. Sleeping was the only time she didn’t drink, and she didn’t sleep often.

Her cell phone buzzes. Still dressed in her blue casual slacks, pale pink silk button-down top, and blue suit coat, her cell sits in her jacket pocket. It stays close just in case her boss calls, and she wasn’t in the office, which was often. After her first month, she noticed her boss didn’t frequent the fancy, yet under-furnished storefront. Most times she let the calls go to voicemail. On days the desire to drink overwhelmed her, she forwarded the calls to her cell. If she was too drunk to answer, she’d return the calls at her leisure. It worked. So far, no one complained, and her boss hadn’t fired her. Two wins in her book. The phone reminder tells her to call her son. She hadn’t spoken to him in a while. Almost six months. Since he’d gone off to school, she didn’t hear from or see him. Her fingers hover over the speed dial. Then she closes the reminder and drops the phone back in her pocket. It’s for the best. He’s better off without her. At least, that’s the story she tells herself to make the unvoiced snubs bearable.

Laughter resonates, stinging her befuddled ears. She pours another drink before turning towards the source of merriment. Four men and an under-clothed woman sit at a back-corner table. A pitcher of beer adorns the middle of the table, half-empty glasses sit around it, the perfect bulls-eye. Someone jokes, then they all laugh, their bodies shaking with the force. Too far away to hear the punchline, she wonders if it’s genuinely funny or if the beer makes it funny. A sad smile crosses her face before she takes another sip of the acrid liquid. It’s been a while since she’d smiled, let alone laughed. The tall, svelte bottle that sits to her right is her only friend. Clear droplets slosh over the side of the glass as she hurriedly refills it. Refusing to waste a drop, she licks the side of the glass before taking a full gulp. The burn causes a cough that rumbles in her chest, and unbidden tears sprang to her eyes. She wipes them away, pretending they are an unwanted response to drinking too fast, instead of the sadness that always lurks around her.

The table of friends burst into another fit of laughter. She turns, unable to ignore the pull of their happiness, natural or drunken. On closer inspection, the woman looks years younger than her companions; out of place in the group of seniors. The woman sits on one man’s lap, her ample chest pressed to his. His hand travels up her short skirt, squeezing her toned thigh. He kisses her, just a peck. But it’s intimate, as if they’ve known each other a while, despite their age difference. Their friends continue conversing, disregarding the couple’s groping and public display of affection. He whispers something, and the woman giggles like she’s heard the vilest of secrets. Then the woman stands, adjusting her skirt, and steps to the side to allow her human chair to stand, as well.

That’s when she sees him. Her vision is a little blurry, and she doesn’t trust her judgment. Yet she’s certain it’s him. Although still lean, beer has given his belly a small pouch. His used-to-be wavy hair has abandoned his edges, and the rest is thin enough to see his scalp. His skin is ashen and cracked around the eyes. Except for years past and time’s cruel progression, his face remains the same. Maybe. She continues to stare, staining his new flaws into her memory. He has a slight twitch and a habit of swiping at his nose, now. Her fuzzy mind questions what she ever saw in him.

When she saw him last, eighteen years ago, she was happily holding a white stick with two blue lines. Most women feel a change in their bodies when expecting, even before confirmation. Swollen, sore breasts and mouth-watering nausea with every scent had been constant for a few weeks. Drinking was even a turnoff for a while. So, the positive test didn’t surprise her. Having a baby was the furthest thing from her mind. But it all changed when she peed on that stick. They were going to be a family. Anxious but jovial feet carried her into the living room where he sat snorting cocaine, as per his usual. Drugs were never her thing. But who was she to judge? She spent eighty percent of her days in drunken bliss. Running to him, she yells,

I’m pregnant! I’m pregnant!

At first, she thought he didn’t hear her admission, his stilled hands the only proof of his acknowledgment. Then, he packed up his mirror, little bag of cocaine and ran from the house while yelling,

It ain’t mine.

He disappeared. He no longer frequented their favorite clubs or bars. A sweet, computer voice answered her calls, explaining that the number wasn’t in service. She visited his home, but left after a few minutes. Perhaps it was her fear of seeing who he had replaced her with that made her leave each time. Even now, fear kept her rooted in place. How would he act towards her with another woman in his lap? It’s scary how familiar the scene looks. Many years ago, she sat in that same position, loving on him, just as the young woman did now. It was as if she was watching a video of her past life.

Their eyes lock, and recognition startles him before he looks away. Anger nudges through her drunken stupor, and the alcohol encourages her to confront the man who left her pregnant and alone all those years ago. Her foot slips on spilled liquor, and she falls from her stool. While pushing herself up, he bolts down the hallway, headed for the bar’s back door. The cowardly bastard. She follows, on unsteady legs, very unsteady. She pushes the back door with unnecessary force, liquid courage and adrenaline spurring her on. The swinging door fights back, swinging hard enough to knock her into the darkened hallway of the bar. A few minutes pass before she stands, using the wall to anchor herself. Nicer, she progresses again through the door. She steps into the alley, screaming his name.

Marion! Marion, you dog! Don’t run from me!

Her voice echoes down the empty alleyway. Then there is only silence. The two bottles of vodka dull her senses as the liquid sloshes around in her food-depraved belly. Her feet feel numb, and she doesn’t see the trash can until she falls over it. A thick rock, used to hold the door open, breaks her fall. The sound of walking feet is the last thing she hears before darkness engulfs her. Hours later, the bartender finds her covered in trash and bleeding from a gash across her forehead. The concussion knocked her semi-sober, and she is utterly embarrassed. Foolishly, she drives herself to the emergency room, refusing to wait for an ambulance. She’s admitted to the hospital and spends a few days in bed, in pain, and alone. Shame keeps her from calling her son for his help. How can she explain she was chasing his father? Especially since sobriety dampened her certainty. It wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have. As far as he knew, his father left when she was pregnant with him. He asked no further questions, and she offered no additional information, though she knew he wondered.

Against her will, she detoxes under the scrutiny of anxious doctors and nurses before deemed healthy enough to be discharged. After a few weeks of constant headaches, body pain, shakes, and a general gross taste in her mouth regardless of how often she brushed her teeth, she returns to work and life as she knows it. Her boss was compassionate, but naive, towards her lie of being in a car accident. Anything to stay employed. Detoxed but still shaky, she craves her customary drink to get her day started. She fights the urge… until she can’t.

She needs the alcohol to tell her how to think, act and feel. Reality is hard to face with the rose-colored glasses missing. Her son hates her, and she doesn’t blame him. Stellar mother isn’t in her list of attributes. She has no one to talk to. No family. No boyfriend; and she’d pushed the only friend she had away. Sure, it almost killed her, but it was always there. It never failed her. Never. Less than a month after giving herself a concussion, she leaves work and drives back to her favorite bar.

Chapter 1 - Gloria

Order my steps in your word, dear Lord. Lead me. Guide me, every day. Send your anointing, Father, I pray. Order my steps in your Word. Please, order my steps in Your Word…

The choir sounds especially wonderful on this bright, Sunday morning. Evangelist Gloria Matthews can feel the words flowing over her like spring water- fresh, transparent, convicting in their clarity. Today marks five years since she began her journey with Living Waters Baptist Church, and she can feel God blessing her through the lyrics of her favorite song. She wears her most expensive suit to commemorate her anniversary - black and white tiger print. Rayon and silk swish against her full hips as she sways to the music. The iridescent lights catch the faux diamond buttons, shaped like flowers. They shimmer each time she raises her hand in praise. Her hat, a perfect complement to the suit, lays just so on her gelled hair, pulled tightly into a coif. Evangelist Gloria Matthews looks every bit as holy as she feels. Though she hates to mess up her light makeup, tears stream while she thanks God for saving her; and He reciprocates her love by filling her heart with incomprehensible joy. Memories of her life before often depress her. But today, they were cause for celebration. Look how far she’d come. And God knew she would go further than she ever expected.

A soft, billowy substance presses into her hand as an usher gives her tissue to wipe her face. She sits down in the second row. On the left-hand side, just to the corner of the band; a perfect seat. A glass podium holds a position at the front of the long pulpit, a beacon for the word of God. The stand for the choir is large enough to hold the fifty bodies in purple and gold robes, sitting directly behind the auxiliary chairs. Pastor James and First Lady Vanessa Harrison sit on the thrones of the church, the shepherds of the house. From a distance, they look untouchable and unapproachable. Pastor Harrison wears a shiny gray suit, tailored to perfection. First Lady Harrison coordinates with her black dress and church hat, covered in black and silver sequin. Gloria knows them to be sweet, humble people, and pretty down-to-earth. They opened their arms to her and provided guidance when she needed it the most. She’d even say that First Lady Harrison is her friend, though she didn’t befriend anyone. People change their minds in the blink of an eye, and their treatment of you just as quickly. So Gloria is always careful of who she allows in her inner circle. She gives few the honor.

First Lady Harrison catches Gloria’s attention and gives her a quick nod of acknowledgment. Gloria’s chest blooms with pride and acceptance. She turns to see if anyone else notices her exchange, but the song’s spirit covers everyone. A few seats down, a young woman in a short dress throws her head back and cries out to the ceiling. When she leans over, Gloria notices her cleavage puffs out like a petulant child, drawing the clergy’s attention, including the Pastor. Men are so easy, Gloria thinks to herself. The woman shouts wildly down the row, her vigor distracting her pew mates from the worship, requiring them to make room or risk being trampled. Ushers rush to the woman’s aide, and ministers take station around her, encapsulating her in a prayer circle as their lips move with whispered intercession. Gloria rolls her eyes at the spectacle as everyone in the woman’s row searches for seats elsewhere.

To God be the Glory.

Gloria looks to the pulpit and sees Elder Darnell Jenkins exalting the crowd. She smiles and stands to her feet, hoping others around the church will follow her lead. As Gloria sees it, the problem with Living Waters Baptist church congregation is anything distracts them. The lot of them sit or stand and watch the woman bounce around, her bouncing breasts giving a show. Someone had to lead them, instruct them on what to do. As soon as she joined the church, Gloria knew her role was to lead the people, help them see the error of their ways. She tilts her head to those around her, encouraging them to stand.

Come on. Let’s not let this young lady praise God alone, Elder Jenkins implores.

Soon a domino effect has the whole church on their feet, clapping and shouting. Elder Jenkins continues to hype the people up to Pastor’s satisfaction, as he and Pastor Harrison share a covert smile, then chuckle. Were watching the people praise God make them laugh or were they were laughing at the people for praising God? Gloria wasn’t sure. Chastising herself, she pushes the questions from her mind, concentrating on Elder Jenkins’s command. Elder Jenkins is a handsome man, but too flashy for Gloria’s taste. She sees how all the women at the church fawn over him, giving him more attention than he required. But not Gloria. She didn’t even speak to a married man unless his wife was nearby. No one could ever accuse her of having an affair. His poor wife must have strong faith or potent drugs, Gloria thinks. Again, she reprimands her wayward thoughts.

After settling the people down, Elder Jenkins preaches the sermon for the day. The homily is robust, but palpable, dissecting the woman at the well. His lesson focuses on how the woman’s past doesn’t define the future. It is as if he is speaking directly to Gloria. Gratitude overwhelms her, and she, like most women in the room, appreciates Elder Jenkins’ delivery and reminder.

* * *

Gloria waits patiently for Pastor and First Lady Harrison, standing quietly by the pulpit stairs as the crowd surrounding them clears. Once the last person gives their hugs, she approaches in silent reverence for their stature. Not that she believes they are any better than her, but she respects their position.

Pastor and First Lady, Gloria says, as she nods in greeting. Church was amazing today.

Yes, it was Evangelist Gloria. Elder Jenkins really outdid himself today. Pastor Harrison says, his voice booming off of the church’s thin walls.

If his feelings about today’s service were a secret, the church’s acoustics and his timbre reveals it. Gloria notices the crow lines around Pastor’s eyes, the deep wrinkles in his face, and the gray in his hair and realizes it won’t be long before he has to pass the torch. First Lady Harrison, although regal and elegant in her black dress and mid-level heels, equally shows signs of the wear and tear from being the First Lady of a church. She’d already passed a few of her duties to ladies in the women’s ministry, lightening her load and her stress; and Elder Jenkins preached more often than Pastor Harrison.

Oh yes, sir. Yes, he did. It was like he was speaking directly to me. Gloria points to herself.

I think all us women felt like that today. Thank God our past doesn’t define us. First Lady chimes in, her southern accent charming and demure and slightly chastising.

Well, I just wanted to speak. I won’t hold you. First Lady, will you be at the women’s meeting this week?

I left Sister Sylvia in charge. She can handle it. First Lady replies, her syrupy tone taking the sting out of her response.

Gloria often hinted at her desire to be chair of the Women’s Ministry, but First Lady Harrison thought her lack of experience to be a hindrance, not an opportunity. Apparently, First Lady Harrison had made the final decision without Gloria’s input or consideration.

All right, then. See you all at bible study. Have a pleasant week.

Gloria turns and walks away before they can see the hurt in her eyes. She shakes her head, shaking the pain away, as she’s done many times before. When one door closed, another one was soon to open. As she approaches the front of the church, Gloria sees the young woman who’d caused a ruckus earlier in the service. The young woman, more like a young girl, looks no older than her early twenties. Her dress is short and tight, as if she came to church directly from the club. She stands holding the hand of a little girl, her outfit a cute, yellow summer dress and dirty white shoes. Gloria remembers her promise to God when He called her. She would be a help, and this young woman clearly needed her help. Regardless of whether First Lady Harrison could see her potential, Gloria knew her purpose was to push the women of the church to be women of God, holy and acceptable, before His sight.

Gloria taps the young woman’s shoulder, getting her attention. Approaching closer, Gloria notices a night’s worth of caked-up make-up. The young woman is pretty, but her attempt at aging herself makes her less so.

Hello. My name is Evangelist Gloria Matthews. Is this your first time visiting the church?

No, ma’am. I’ve been before. My name is Stephanie Reynolds. Nice to meet you. Stephanie sweetly responds as she extends her hand.

Gloria shakes Stephanie’s cold, clammy hand, noting that the young girl with her has wrapped herself around Stephanie’s leg.

Are you waiting for a ride?

For the bus. It should be here in a minute.

Well, where do you live? I can give you a ride. I’ve got room.

Over off of Martin Road.

That’s close to me. I’ll give you and… who’s this? Gloria points to the young girl.

This is my daughter, Asia. Say hey, Asia. Stephanie gently jerks her daughter from behind her leg. Asia gives a slight wave of her hand before hiding again behind her mother’s hip.

Well, come on. I’m parked right here.

Gloria’s red Toyota Camry gleams in the sunlight, her pride and joy. Once a month, she takes it to be detailed at the shop down the street from her house. She goes so often they named a special after her - the Evangelist Special. It makes her laugh each time it’s offered to her. Unlocking the door, she throws her bible and purse in the backseat, watching as Stephanie buckles the girl into her seat belt. The child is so small, the seat belt just barely fits. Realizing she doesn’t have a car seat, Gloria asks,

Will she be okay? I can check inside to see if they have an extra car seat I can borrow from the children’s ministry.

Oh, she’s fine. I can sit back here with her.

Stephanie walks to the passenger side of the car and gets in as Gloria takes her seat at the wheel. The ride will take about ten or fifteen minutes, and Gloria thinks about how to bring up the inappropriateness of Stephanie’s clothes and her outburst at church. She thinks being direct is best and blurts,

So, Stephanie, I noticed the spirit really took a hold of you today.

Stephanie blushes and says, Yes, ma’am. I love that song and things have been tough lately.

Is there anything I can do to help?

Stephanie nervously rubs her daughter’s arm and grabs her small hand for support.

"Things will be better now. I’ve got a job and Asia is