Chapter 1 : Part 1

Farther Than I Meant To Go, Longer Than I Meant To Stay
by Tiffany L. Warren

She's independent, successful, and fulfilled in her spiritual walk. But bank president Charmayne Ellis is also overweight, close-to-forty ... and wondering if she will ever be as successful in her personal life. She's never gotten much praise or caring from her ever-critical mother and sister. And her friends are more into matchmaking than being truly supportive.

So it seems her prayers are answered when hardworking, saved, and just-too-fine Travis Moon asks Charmayne to marry him. Or were they? Charmayne soon finds the only thing her new husband has to share is one bad-news secret after another. Now, with her reputation and career destroyed and her life at rock bottom, her faith will be tested as never before. Her challenge will be to face her own willful heart-and find the courage to finally put herself in God's hands and discover where her real blessings lie.

Chapter 1

Past

I gazed blankly at the television screen.

After losing my career to Travis's criminal activities, I had no idea what to do with myself all day. I had no desire to start searching for another job; the whole idea was depressing. I chose, instead, to stay home and watch television ministers all day long. And between TV church broadcasts, I cooked.

I had been doing so much dieting that I'd forgotten how comforting food was. I totally rediscovered the joy of food. Yes, I'd lost fifteen pounds, but that didn't even matter. Being skinny was no longer a priority, not when my heart was broken and my life was in ruins.

During Joyce Meyer's broadcast, I heard a car pull up in my driveway. I peeked out of the window and saw Lynette's little red car. I didn't want to see her, or anybody else for that matter. Maybe she didn't catch the hint when I didn't answer the phone when she called, or respond to any of her voice mail messages. I just wanted to be left alone. I heard her banging on the door like a bill collector, but I didn't answer. She knocked for a good ten minutes before she left.

I inhaled the scent of the chocolate cake that I was baking. It was intoxicating. I'd made it especially sweet. So sweet that it was going to make my teeth hurt. It would be good with milk, but I was out of milk. It was going to have to be coffee.

I opened the refrigerator and realized that I needed a lot more than milk. It seemed like I'd just been to the store. But it had been two whole weeks. I was going to have to venture out again, but I'd wait until it was night. I would go to the twenty-four-hour Save and Go. Grocery stores were so peaceful at two o'clock in the morning. And best of all, I wouldn't run into anybody I knew.

Since Travis got me fired from my job, I'd seen two members from my church. Of course they knew all about me being fired. One of the problems with having bishops and pastors as the board of directors at the bank is that they all had wives. And some of them had nothing better to do than gossip about someone else's bad fortune. Well, I realized that running into people wasn't going to be very easy when the two I did see started offering condolences like one of my loved ones had died. I almost expected them to hand me a pot of spaghetti and some cold chicken. People always brought the most unappetizing food to the houses of the grieving.

I wished the cake would hurry and bake. I needed my sugar fix. I sounded like an addict. Speaking of addicts, I wondered if Travis was addicted to porn. I never would've taken him for that type. When I thought of men who indulged in pornography, I envisioned greasy, slimy-looking characters who went out in the shadows and hid their dirty secret in garages and under beds. Maybe I'd driven him to it. Maybe he was sick of looking at my fat rolls and wanted to see some folks who weren't twice his size. Guess I couldn't blame him for that. But why'd he have to put it on my laptop unless he was trying to get me fired on purpose? That didn't make any sense. But then a lot of things weren't making much sense to me.

The cake had another twenty minutes to go and then it had to cool off, but I didn't think I could wait that long. I poured myself a huge glass of Pepsi. I grabbed eight ice cubes out of the freezer and placed them in the glass. When I went to reach for it, though, I slipped and knocked it off the counter. The glass broke into a hundred little pieces and Pepsi splattered everywhere. Tears sprang to my eyes - it was my favorite glass.

Still, the sound that it made when it fell, I liked it. It was loud and kind of sharp. That sound made me feel good. Even better than a slice of chocolate cake. Even better than that glass of soda would've tasted. I ran my hand across my arm, and there were goose bumps.

Before I could stop myself I broke another glass, and then another. And it felt good! I even saw the blood on my bare feet from where I stepped on a piece, but I didn't feel any pain at all. I ran out of glasses, but I still wanted to break something. I didn't want the feeling to go away. So I started on the plates. I was disappointed. The heavy pottery just didn't have the same sound as the glasses.

For a moment, I was dejected. And I started to reach for the broom. If I couldn't enjoy myself anymore, I should probably clean up. But then I got another bright idea. I bet the window would make a sound like the glasses. Actually, it might be even better! I hit the kitchen window with the broom handle, but not hard enough. I gave it another whack and then it crashed into a million little shards. I felt a smile creep across my face.

But the kitchen window wasn't enough. So I ran upstairs and started breaking all the bedroom windows. Faintly, somewhere in the back of my head, I could hear my burglar alarm going off. There must've been something wrong with it because it didn't go off until I got upstairs. Or maybe I just didn't hear it downstairs.

There was glass everywhere. Upstairs and downstairs. But there was nothing left to break and I felt melancholy about that. I looked out of what used to be my picture window in the living room. My next-door neighbor Clara was standing right out front, and so I waved at her.

"Charmayne!" she called. "Are you all right?"

"Me? I'm fine! Actually I'm better than fine. I'm great!"

"Well, your windows are broken."

"I know!"

Well, looking out at Clara gave me another idea. My car had six sturdy windows. I was sure breaking them would prolong my euphoria for just a little longer. I opened the door and went outside. I wasn't wearing shoes so I was making bloody footprints on the walkway. They looked funny so I let out a little laugh. Clara was still standing outside, so I waved at her again before I started bashing in the car windows. I heard Clara scream, but when I looked up she wasn't standing there anymore.

Then I heard the sirens . . .

Copyright ©l 2006 by Tiffany Warren

About the Author

Tiffany L. Warren lives in suburban Cleveland, Ohio.