Leah's Uncompromised Abstinence Read online

  Leah’s Uncompromised Abstinence

  M. D. Holiday

  Copyright @ 2012

  CHAPTER I

  I recalled the words of Thessalonians 4:3 when father drove up to the church. God’s will is for His unmarried children to abstain from premarital relations. When my father pulled into the church parking lot, I caught sight of the huge steeple. The church’s steeple bore a magnificent cross. My heart was heavy and engulfed in sadness as I imagined Jada’s body being rolled into the church.

  My heart sank when father parked the car and turned off the engine. I knew I had to say my final goodbyes to Jada. He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. He took my hand, and I lifted myself from the car seat. I gazed at the church as if I had never seen it before. We silently strolled across the parking lot toward the entrance. My lips trembled, and my feet felt like thousand-ton weights, as I climbed the steps of the age old church. I held tightly to father’s arm while we eased through the double church doors toward the white casket situated in front of the altar.

  The barrage of stale perfume, musty mildewed carpet, and the chemicals in the cleaning products overwhelmed me. People sat in their seats like statuettes dressed in black. Women mourned as they fanned their faces with decorative hand fans, hoping to catch a breath of fresh air. Warm sun rays illuminated the church through the magnificent antique stained glass windows.

  I paused momentarily as one of the center windows caught my attention. The window bore an angel with hands stretched toward a childlike figure. Why had this child died at such a young age? I noticed things in the church that I had never noticed before.

  As I surveyed the pews, I noticed some of my classmates staring at me. A few of them whispered, as I passed by. It should have been comforting to see that some of our classmates had come to the funeral to say their goodbyes, but it was intimidating to see a few students who really didn’t care for Jada.

  It was very touching to see the gold lettering near Jada’s picture, which said “HOME BOUND.” A single tear trickled down my cheek, as I tried to choke down my sadden emotions. My father released his firm hold on my hand. He took his seat and allowed me to spend a few last moments with Jada.

  I asked myself why did this happen? If only she had listened to me, she might still be alive. I blamed myself for her death. I prayed that I would awake out of this horrible dream and be sunbathing on a beach in the Grand Caymans just as we had done a year earlier. When I approached the casket to say goodbye for the last time, I stood still, silent, and sobbed in my grief stricken life while I stared at the closed casket. The only reminder of happiness was the smiling teddy bear placed on top of the casket. If Jada were alive and wearing that same smile, life would be good.

  Her death was hard to grasp and even harder to accept. I could never fully accept her death, until her killer was found. Although her body had been found in the Lost and Old River marshes after Hurricane Rita, I knew that her death was not a result of the hurricane.

  I knelt down and prayed before touching the cold casket. I imagined the insidious tall grass growing up between her fleshless bones in the marshes where her remains were found. The heat and humidity had ravished Jada’s corpse. While I silently prayed, I asked God to forgive Jada for her shortcomings and also to forgive those who had taken away the very life that he had given her.

  I’ll see you someday on the other side, Jada. I will certainly miss you. Our friendship meant the world to me. You will be ever present in my thoughts and prayers.

  My mother’s voice echoed in my ears, “Leah, pray for those who spitefully misuse us.” Although it was difficult, I found an ounce of strength to pray for Jada’s killer because deep down inside, I wanted revenge.

  As I stood, I eased a golden cross from around my neck and placed it in a large magnolia blossom on top of her casket. I stared momentarily at the cross peeking out of the magnolia blossom. I imagined the cross as her eternal sleeping face, while she laid still and silent.

  As the gut-wrenching background moaning grabbed me and reality slowly set in, a heavy lump of choking sorrow rose in my throat. She wasn’t coming back. My teeth chattered, as the last ounce of sorrowing strength escaped from my quivering body. I struggled to stand but lost my balance and knocked over an arrangement of snow white roses. An enormous hand firmly grabbed me and squeezed my palm. A man whispered into my ear, and then he lifted to my feet. It was Deacon Miller. My heart skipped a beat as I pulled my aching hand from his grasp.

  “Jezebel – death and destruction – Jezebel,” the caustic smelly voice blurted out. “Pay back is hell!”

  Déjà vu! I pulled away and took a seat in the row beside father. He held my shaking hand. His hands were warm and comforting.

  “Leah, we’ll do something together real soon,” he promised. I remained silent.

  My Aunt Ree’s ghostly figure appeared and sat next to me. She hugged me and pulled me close to her, as if she was truly saddened. I whispered a few words in her ear. “Thank you for coming, Aunt Ree. This really means a lot to me.”

  Her breath was sweet and mellow and smelled of freshly picked strawberries. Her breath usually smelled of alcohol, and her body held the lingering smell of late night thrills and cheap perfume. This was the first time I had seen her sober in more than a year. The last time I saw her sober was at mother’s funeral. She looked almost decent in her tea-party white sundress. Except for the wide-brim hat covering her face, and her oversized dark sun glasses, it appeared that she wanted to be just a silent number in the crowd.

  She was rarely seen among church goers. Her long nails were painted antique white. I had seen the berry red nail polish for so long that I didn’t think she could remove it. My eyes traveled down to her feet and I noticed that she did not have on her gaudy rhinestone studded stilettos. Although she was bare-legged, the antique white toe nails looked nice. Aunt Ree never had any children, so she loved Jada and me like her very own.

  Aunt Ree momentarily rubbed my hands. “Jada was special to me. She was like the daughter I never had.”

  For a moment, Aunt Ree seemed understanding and compassionate. Perhaps she felt pain, but then she shirked her head and looked away. She became stone-faced and sank deep as the depth of the sea into her own world. I tried to caress her, but she pushed me away. She was as distant as a far-away secluded island. Detached.

  Jada and I had been homies since she moved to Houston when we were in sixth grade. I remember the first day that I laid eyes on Jada. She sat beside me in the cafeteria. A fierce food fight broke out between Mrs. White and Miss Harvey’s classes. A plate of spaghetti and meatballs sailed towards Jada. She ducked, hit the floor, and crawled under the table. She grabbed my arm and pulled me underneath the table with her. Students were bombarded by flying plates of spaghetti and meatballs. Strands of warm spaghetti, salad, and French bread covered the floor all around us. Jada shielded me with her body until everything was over. Jada and I rose from under the table virtually unscathed. Students appeared to have bloody noses and their clothes were messy. I was hysterical. I had never seen a food fight. I cried because it was hard to tell if some of the students were bleeding or just covered with spaghetti sauce. Jada held me by the hand and took me out of the cafeteria. She made sure that I was alright. I saw her again that Sunday in church, and I went over and thanked her.

  Less than one week after the food fight, Joseph played a dirty trick on Mrs. Wagner. She left the classroom for a short while to go to the restroom. He pretended to throw a piece of paper in the trash can under her desk, but instead placed a tack in her chair. He giggled and slid the chair under the desk. Some students thought that this was an amusing prank. Jada eased a note to me
which said, “Read your book, don’t look up, stay focused and don’t say a thing.” When Mrs. Wagner entered the classroom, and took her seat, she let out a painful scream. Mrs. Wagner was terribly upset about the prank and inquired about who had done such an awful thing. Everyone was quiet. Jada and I kept reading while the other students either giggled or pointed fingers at each other. When Mrs. Wagner asked Jada and me about the incident, we explained that we were reading and did not see a thing. We were the only two students who did not get into trouble. Jada had saved me again. I stayed close to her from that point. Our friendship grew, and she became my best friend. We were upright girls from Christian families. We attended church every Sunday and song in the children’s choir. While our classmates dressed in skimpy fashions, we remained rather traditional in our dress.

  Jada reached out to me in a warm way when my mother succumbed to breast cancer last year. I cried on her shoulders for days on-end. My father worked and couldn’t always be home. He asked Aunt Ree to drive mother to her chemo appointments. She stayed sober long enough to do exactly that, but when she returned home, her insatiable craving for alcohol consumed her.

  When I arrived home from school, it was my turn to care for mother. During mother’s hospital stay, Jada invited me to her house. She was extremely caring. Each night before bedtime, she knelt down beside my bed, held my hands, and prayed with me. She prayed for my mother’s healing. Then she asked that God’s will be done and if His will was for mother to join him in paradise, to give me the strength to carry on. After our prayer sessions, I closed my eyes and slept with the reassurance that I had a faithful friend. When mother arrived home from the hospital during her final days, Jada stayed at my house.

  Many times the chemo made mother ill. Jada had no problem tidying up things. Several times when mother soiled her sheets, Jada knew what to do. She knew how to put my mind at ease.

  Mother’s favorite food was chicken soup. Jada’s mother was a good cook, and she made sure my mother ate plenty of her mother’s home-made chicken soup. Jada usually brought the soup to my mother’s bedside and fed her like a mother feeding a young child. At the close of the day, we gave mother a bath and brushed her long wavy hair. We rubbed lotion over her entire body and made sure she was comfortable.

  Jada’s mother came to see mother daily, but Jada and I mainly took care of almost everything. We were a team, and we shared everything. When mother passed, Jada was with my father and me at her bedside. When some of my friends heard the news of mother’s death, they gave me cards, but Jada had shared my pain and given of herself. True friends are supposed to do that.

  We both hid a daunting little secret deep inside. We understood each other’s desire to be accepted by our schoolmates. Our begging souls wanted to be popular. We were juniors and only had a short time to make our mark. I ate, slept, and dreamed about a date with Austin, the star quarterback. I knew deep down inside that I was as pretty as any other girl at Central High, but wasn’t going to nab Austin unless I changed my appearance. I was attractive, small framed, and busty. It was high time for me to wear makeup and show a few curves.

  I loved my mother dearly, and she made me promise her on her death-bed that I would embrace abstinence until marriage, but every emotion inside of me begged for attention. Jada and I agreed that we would just appear to be hot, but not give in.

  On my 17th birthday, I pleaded with father to allow Aunt Ree to take me shopping. Finally, he gave in. I knew I was about to become a hot number. Aunt Ree knew how to make men take a second look. Oh, how I wanted Aunt Ree’s traits. She was a sleazy dresser.

  We rushed into the Wild & Wonderful Boutique and picked out some hot shorts for the weekends. I purchased matching outfits for Jada. Aunt Ree helped me choose several mini-skirts, leggings, underwire bras, and thongs. This was a change from wearing skirts below the knee. We selected some tight fitting tops that emphasized my curves. Aunt Ree also purchased white strips to brighten my smile. We wrapped up our shopping trip with the addition of dazzling lipstick and complementary nail polish. Aunt Ree took me to Tresses Hair Salon and had my long dish-water blonde hair highlighted.

  Jada and I were hot stuff. I admit that we looked rather whorish – but the boys widely accepted us. The first church member to see our new look was Deacon Miller. He walked into the school just ahead of us, as if he was embarrassed to know us. Because too many girls were getting pregnant at Central High, the principal thought it would be a good idea to invite some church goers to assembly. Deacon Miller quickly volunteered. When he got close to us, he gave us a strange piercing look. We attempted to pass him with a mere “good morning” and rush behind the last few students into the auditorium.”

  He hesitantly shrugged his shoulders and beckoned us to stop. He pointed us toward an open door in the isolated corner down the hallway. This could only mean trouble.

  “Are you young ladies going to school today, or to the bar? Young ladies, be mindful and conduct yourselves in a Godly manner. What kind of future do you think you’re going to have dressing like Jezebels?”

  When he closed the door, we were speechless. He had just finished smoking his pipe, and the pungent odor from his breath was offensive. It reeked of old burned snuff. I smelled this caustic odor when I visited my grandfather, and it always made my stomach sink.

  Deacon Miller spoke like a rumbling volcano. “You need prayer! The wages of sin is death! Your future is on a collision course with hell!”

  I eased my skirt down a bit, until it nearly exposed my waistline. I didn’t need prayer today. I needed Austin. Somehow, I knew Deacon Miller’s words were solid as the Rock of Gibraltar, but I ignored his Godly warning to satisfy my own selfish desires.

  I was hot and the devil’s good-for-nothing winds whirled deep in my soul. With the palm of his hands stretched forth, then he placed his left hand upon Jada’s forehead, and his right hand on mine. He shook our heads, until my brain turned to mush. I felt lightheaded and entrapped. I cringed when his hands moved from my forehead toward my breasts. I pressed my back into the jagged stucco wall in an effort to free myself from his unwanted advances.

  He uttered words from deep inside his being. His hands moved from my breasts toward my backside and then down my legs. He touched me in places that no man had touched me before. What in the world is he thinking? There are rules about sexual harassment and praying in public places. Evidently, he was too old and senile to remember the rules, or maybe he just did not give a hoot. Humiliating. When he stopped spitting fire and brimstone, he wiped sweat from his brows and threw the door open. He left for the auditorium.

  My legs became noodle limp as I slid to the floor and composed myself. Jada held her breath and her body appeared to be stiff as a board after Deacon Miller’s assault. I slapped her on the shoulder and brought her back to reality. We vowed to get even, but for now we hurried into the auditorium and took seats on the back row.

  CHAPTER II

  Freckle-faced Freddie stood near the corner of the stage – his eyes focused on me. He had been my boyfriend until last year. He was a lanky, freckled face, pigeon toed boy. He had protruding ears, but he was geeky and smart as a whip. Our eyes were focused on the principal, who introduced Freckled-face Freddie to speak as an invited guest.

  Freddie had graduated ahead of his class and was now in college. I was filled with shame because I was dressed skimpy, and sitting beside Austin. I was relieved when assembly ended. Austin gave me a peck on the cheek and excused himself for football practice. The other students rushed from the auditorium and drifted down the long corridor. Just as Jada and I made our exit, we saw Deacon Miller standing near the door.

  I trembled and my knees knocked. They sounded like tin cans clinking together. I looked at Jada’s pasty white face and shuddering lips. She tried to tell me to run, but her teeth were chattering too violently. She quickly forced her mouth closed to avoid biting her lips. We did not want Deacon Miller to lay hands on us again, so we pulled our skirts down to our k
nees and waited until about half of the students congregated in the halls. We ran like scared rats and snaked our way down the hall through the students until we were out of the building.

  Jada and I returned to my car and promised to remain pure until marriage. We pricked our fingers. Jada pricked her finger too deeply and blood rushed from the wound. I pressed a white handkerchief to the wound to stop the bleeding. When the bleeding subsided a bit, we pressed the drops of blood together and recited the vows to each other. Jada crammed the bloody handkerchief into my junky glove compartment and slammed it shut.

  Then we got even with Deacon Miller. We had a job to do. I pulled a sharp butcher’s knife and an ice pick from underneath the seat. We belly flopped out of my car on hands and knees, so no one could see us. We did a lizard crawl on our knees toward Deacon Miller’s car. When we arrived at his car, I borrowed Sampson’s strength and plunged the butcher’s knife into the passenger side front tire. Jada took care of the back tire with the ice pick. We hurried back to my car and hid the weapons.

  After taking care of business, we set out for our classroom. I quickly caught Austin’s eyes, and he asked me out for a date. His sandy colored hair was naturally curly and quite alluring. He had abs of steel and was a stud.

  Jada was already dating Will, who had somehow moved from Geekville and was now a popular wide receiver. Will was rather rough around the edges. He had relocated to Clear Lake from the wards in the Houston inner city. His trademark was expensive sneakers, dread locks, and a well-groomed goatee. He was solid as a rock, short tempered and a loud mouth. His goal was to make it to the NFL like so many other Blacks had done. His father was absent from his life, and he dreamed of buying his mother a nice house and a luxury car.

  Although Jada loved Will she hid their relationship from her mother. Mrs. Cheney was partial to other races and cultures. She desperately wanted Jada to marry a Christian white boy.