Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
“Of course not, Auntie Angie.”
I’m trying to keep myself from breaking down. I thought I could hold on, but being back with the woman who practically raised me is tough. Despite my best intentions, my eyes let loose and tears begin to flow.
“Teddy bear, what happened?”
“I messed up. I messed up real bad,” I manage to choke out between sobs.
“Okay, okay,” she comforts me, patting my back. “Let’s get you home, and you can tell me all about it over a glass of sweet tea.”
I nod, and my aunt takes me over to her car to drive us to her house.
Soon we pull up before her small ranch-style home. It’s a sunny yellow color with white shutters and colorful flowerbeds in front.
“You know, I’ve had to re-do all my dahlias this year,” remarks Angie as we pull into the garage. “But they all came back! You see, Mira? Whatever it is, it can’t be so bad because they’ll all come back sooner or later.”
I manage a choked half-cry, half-sob, and soon my aunt and I are sitting in her living room, each of us with a glass of her delicious sweet tea. I’m on the floor, my head resting on her lap while she pats my hair.
“You haven’t even taken a sip, baby. Something must really be wrong.” I start crying again. My face feels like a never-ending waterfall, with moisture streaming down my cheeks in waves.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Angie starts, “or are you going to need another good couple of minutes to get it all out?”
“Minutes,” I manage to blubber while reaching for a Kleenex. Angie pats my head and lets me have a little bit of time to just get snot all over her skirt. It does make me feel a little better, crying without any reservation, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve left my husbands.
It doesn’t change the fact that my best friend won’t call me.
It doesn’t change the fact that the underlying problem in all these situations is me.
I pick my head, sniffling a little, and look up at Angie.
“What happened, baby?” she asks kindly.
The tears start again.
“I fell in love Auntie, that’s what happened. I fell in love, and it ruined everything.” I’m still crying a little bit, but it’s not as hysterical as before. “Remember that church I told you about? The one I joined a while back?”
“The Village one?” she asks. I nod. “You said a few things about how nice the preachers were, and I was so happy you found a place of worship in New York City. You know how worried I was about that. The city can be lawless, and a good church is like a home away from home.”
A bittersweet smile crosses my face. I probably raved about Jason and Jordan, going on and on about their sermons, their command of scripture, and their general demeanor. That’s how in awe I was of my husbands, and the tears start afresh again.
“Well, I ended up falling in love with those two preachers. I fell in love with them so hard, and now everything’s messed up.” I hold my ring in between two of my fingers and twist it back and forth while still wearing it. I thought about giving it back, but having to part with something so beautiful broke my heart. Not this. I couldn’t do it.
Angie looks confused.
“You fell in love with your preachers? Well, don’t worry honey. That’s not unheard of. Everyone falls in love with a father figure at some point, whether it’s a basketball coach, professor, or priest.”
I shake my head.
“No, it’s not that simple. I didn’t just fall in love with Jordan and Jason, but they fell in love with me too. But it doesn’t matter because my presence ruined their lives.”
Angie looks confused again.
“But why? So you had a crush on your preachers, and they thought you were cute too. It’s taboo, but come on, you’re all grown adults. Surely, nothing came of it, right?”
This is where Angie doesn’t realize how badly I’ve veered off course.
“No, Auntie Angie. We fell in love to the point where … um, well, it wasn’t a crush anymore. I was with them. You know, as in how a man loves a woman. The biblical way.”
Now the chubby woman stares at me.
“You were with them?”
I nod miserably.
“Yes, both of them. Over and over again, and Auntie Angie, I don’t regret that part one bit. Our love was real, and being with them was merely the physical manifestation of our adoration for one another. That can’t be wrong can it?”
My aunt still looks confused and I don’t blame her.
“So you’re telling me that you made love to your preachers,” she says slowly. “Both of them.”
“Yes,” I whisper again. “Simultaneously. We were a threesome.”
That makes my aunt go quiet. Her hand stops stroking my hair, and my heart pumps in fear. Oh god, is she going to throw me out? Is she going to say that the devil made me do it, and that now I need an exorcism? Here in Kentucky, among god-fearing folk, exorcisms are real. They’re not merely done for movies; they are real ceremonies that occur with some regularity.