MORE THAN A FRIEND- PART 3

Nov 20, 2007 - 16:01 PM PST




The next morning, Cindy awakened feeling refreshed. She’d been set free from a bad marriage, a self-centred man, and finally the shame of having played the fool. Talking to Mavis had helped a lot. Cindy felt lighter, relieved even and that surprised her. She thought she was supposed to miss Charles more than this. Or at least have some kind of withdrawal symptoms from their relationship. But as of yet, none of that had happened.

I guess he did me a favour by divorcing me, Cindy mused as she went to take a quick shower. Then after dressing in a pair of lemon-lime sweats, she pulled her hair up into a lime scrunched and went down for breakfast.



She looks good and rested. That’s a good sign, Mavis mused, briefly looking up from her task to smile at her sister. “Hi, sleepy head,” she rang out before returning her focus to the five miniature pancakes on the flat griddle in front of her. One, two, three, four, and five, all flipped in perfect succession, all golden brown with no black streaks on either side. Mavis smiled at her accomplishment.

“Auntie Cindy, come sit by me,” Little Eric said, making room for her at the white breakfast nook that he and his sister sat at. He smiled when Cindy nodded that she would. Little Eric (aka Eric Jr.) had his mother’s mahogany skin and his father’s thick eyebrows and curly hair. Ashley’s colouring was the same, except she had her mother’s long straight black hair. They were beautiful children inside and out and Cindy loved them dearly.

“Mommy’s making mini cakes today. They’re our favourites,” Ashley said with a mouth full of syrupy bread. Her cheeks were shiny from where buttery fingers had touched them.

Mavis turned to glare at her daughter. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, little girl.”

Ashley put her hands in front of her mouth. “Yes, Mommy.”

Laughing, Cindy asked, “Where is Eric? I didn’t get a chance to see him last night.”

“He’s at another medical convention. He’ll be back on Sunday. Grab a plate. I always cook pancakes on Saturdays. During the weekdays the kids eat hot or cold cereal, so I try to make Saturdays a special treat. The bacon is over there on the right, eggs to your left.” Mavis pointed as she flipped another batch, and then reached for her glass of juice on the counter.

“Hmm...Don’t mind if I do,” Cindy said, fixing her plate. She quickly popped a slice of bacon into her mouth, before turning to her niece. “See how this looks when I talk with my mouth full of food?” Each chew was exaggerated, meant to make a point.

“Ooo.. Gross, Auntie, Yuck!” The pony-tailed youngster squealed. “I get the picture now.” Ashley’s nose wrinkled with displeasure while Little Eric laughed.

“I thought you would,” Cindy said, winking at Mavis before sitting down beside her nephew.

Mavis only smiled as she sipped her juice. Cindy is a trip. Lovable as ever. She obviously hasn’t lost her sense of humour. And that was a good thing.



Later at their parents’ house, Cindy, Mavis and the kids assembled in the spacious black and white living room, ready to discuss a little business and hopefully engage in a bit of healthy family fellowship afterwards. On the striped fabric sofa, Cindy sat with Little Eric between her knees as he busily played with a red and white action figure on the floor. Ashley sat with Granddaddy Michael in the black leather recliner; a brown Barbie doll was in her hands.

“Cindy, I’m glad to see that you let your hair grow back. That short cut didn’t accent your heart-shaped face at all,” Wilma observed warily, a frown creased her nut-brown forehead. She’d always worn her own jet-black hair straight and long, the same way she’d kept her girls’ hair when they were growing up. That ritual had been done as a testament to their Korean heritage.

“I know, Mom.” Cindy sighed with annoyance. It was no use telling her mother the real reasons she’d kept it short. That would only spark off another argument about Charles and she didn’t come over here to argue. She came for help.

“Uh...Mom,” Mavis intervened, seeing the look of remorse roll across their mother’s face and the look of irritation on Cindy’s. They needed to handle some business first. They could tackle the hard emotional stuff later. “Cindy needs help selling her house. We wanted to ask you to oversee the sale and hopefully get Cindy a nice little starting over package out of it.”

Their mother’s eyes lit up at the very thought of selling real estate and for the moment she forgot about the rift between her and her youngest child. Wilma loved her work and it showed. “Sure I can help my baby girl sell her house. Be glad to do it, too. It’s a great piece of property as I remember. Let me think.” She began to tap her right index finger on her chin as she thought out loud. “That brick ranch home has a twenty by forty swimming pool, two-car garage, three bedrooms, two baths with granite counters, and oak and tile floors. Right, Cindy?”

“Uhm…yes, Mom. How can you remember all that? You've only been there…what? Twice in the last six years?” Cindy marvelled at her mother’s photographic memory.

“Cindy once is all it takes for me. After two visits, I can draw the floor plans in my sleep. You’ll probably be able to get six figures for that home,” Wilma said confidently, remembering some of the new tips she’d learned from her recent business trip.

“Is my woman good or what?” Michael piped in, laughing with pride. “Cindy, don’t worry. Your house will be sold within a month tops.” Then he looked at Wilma before continuing. His tone and his face grew serious. “Also, baby girl, your mother and I want to apologize for not being there for you like we should have. We should’ve never let our feelings towards Charles drive a wedge between our love and support for you. We won’t let that happen again, no matter who you marry next time. Please forgive us.” Her mahogany-skinned father was sincere. His dark brown eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Looking from one parent to the other, Cindy saw genuine repentance. How could she not forgive them? And especially with her big burly father growing misty-eyed. The former prize fighter had never cried in front of his children before or hardly anyone else for that matter. To Wilma’s recollection, Michael had only cried tears twice in her presence and both times had been during the birth of their daughters.

Sighing with enormous relief, Cindy joyfully jumped up and gave both parents a big hug and a kiss. “I love you guys.” This turned out well, she mused, her hopes rising for everything else in her life to fall into place, too.



As the red minivan made its way back to Mavis’ house, Cindy and her sister had another heart-to-heart talk. “That went smoother than I thought it would,” Cindy spoke softly, careful not to wake the sleeping children buckled up in the backseat.

“Yes, it did,” Mavis said, looking briefly at her sister. “You know Mom and Dad never stopped loving you. They just didn’t like your husband, that’s all.” She returned her eyes to the road and continued. “I never told you this, but Mom had a problem with the way Charles was always primping, looking at his reflection every chance he got.” Mavis smirked as she remembered catching Charles staring at his reflection in one of her long dinner knives. The man must have had an elephant of an ego.

“I guess he did do that, didn’t he? I never realized how much though. But now that I think about it, it was a lot.” Cindy laughed when she remembered how long it took Charles to get ready to go anywhere. They usually had to start getting ready two hours in advance or he would make them late. Charles never could decide what to wear and what Cindy laid out for him was never good enough.

“And Dad didn’t like Charles, because the man always wanted you to wait on him hand and foot. Fix his food, keep the house clean, and lay out his clothes, like you were his maid or something.”

“I did those things out of love, Mavis,” Cindy said as she glanced out of the side window. The street lights reminded her of a Christmas tree, except all of these bulbs were white. Only the tri-colored traffic signal lent any hues to the dark residential street.

“I know you did. I do things like that for my husband, too. And we both know that Mom does that stuff for Dad. There was nothing wrong with what you did. It was the way Charles reacted to what you did that made us so mad. He didn’t appreciate the things you did for him. It’s like he expected you to do those things for him regardless of how he treated you. As if it was your duty or your only significance in this world. Like none of the other things about you mattered.” Mavis frowned at the thought of what her sister must have endured over the last six years, things that she might never tell them.

Cindy nodded in agreement. “You’re right, sis. I just never gave voice to those things before.”

Mavis continued, feeling her neck muscles tense with anger. Her hands tightened on the burgundy steering wheel. “And another thing that irked us was how Charles refused to see you as his equal. You had a college degree, were working as a local news reporter, and were living independently before he ever met you. However, when Charles came into your life, it seemed like he couldn’t rest until he’d reduced you to being his servant.” She glanced at her sister again. “Cindy, being a wife means being an equal. Remember Eve came out of Adam’s side, not his foot. Your husband should have been doing some of those things for you sometimes.”

“You’re right, Mavis. I remember how Nana and Mom catered to their husbands’ needs and I tried to do the same. I can see where I missed it now. I forgot how Grandpa and Dad returned those deeds with outward signs of appreciation and respect. They acted like a team. Is that how you and Eric are, Mavis?” Cindy observed how at the mere mention of Eric’s name, Mavis seemed to relax from her previous tense position. Her hands involuntarily loosened on the steering wheel.

“Yes, and I am crazy about that man. I can’t wait until he gets home tomorrow. Speaking of tomorrow, will you be able to watch the kids for me?”

“Yep,” Cindy said, quickly agreeing to her first babysitting gig. “I know you guys are going to want to be alone for a while.” She laughed knowingly.

“You got that right,” Mavis said, fanning her. The very thought of her fine husband got her excited. Hurry home, baby.



Later that night, Cindy placed a call to Andre and told him about everything that had transpired since they last talked. Towards the end of the conversation she disclosed her plans for the next day.

“I’m going to church tomorrow, are you?” As Cindy pulled the covers up to her midriff, she felt a delicious yawn forming in her throat, a yawn that promised another night of sweet sleep. She looked forward to it.

Andre sat upright in his bed. It was as if Cindy’s question had pierced his heart and now echoed in his soul. Are you? Are you?

It had been such a long time since Andre had been to church and he felt ashamed of himself. After all, he was a missionary’s kid. While his parents were out spreading the Gospel to un-churched nations, back home their two sons were allowing the world and the pressures thereof to steer them in the opposite direction. Besides that, his parents were scheduled to be the guest speakers on tomorrow, a fact that he’d forgotten all about.

Andre hung his head in shame as he cradled the phone against his ear and silently repented. Finally he said, “Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Good, I guess I’ll see you then.” Cindy yawn again, completely oblivious to what Andre had had to go through to come to that answer. “Goodnight Drew.”

“Night, Cindy.” Then Andre flipped the television from the basketball game to a station that broadcasted Christian programming. He suddenly had the urge to hear some words of inspiration.