Past
I felt a tremendous amount of guilt following our meeting with my financial adviser. How could I say that I loved Travis and not be completely honest with him about something so simply meaningless as money? I put myself in his shoes and found that I’d be willing to divorce him for a similar offense. I felt like the tormented murderer in Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart.” It seemed that at any moment, my lies would be laid bare and I would lose my dream husband.
My guilt caused me to leave work early. I was going to go home and tell Travis all my deeds, then beg his forgiveness. I’d take him on a ridiculous shopping spree, maybe even a vacation.
On my way home I found myself stopped at a red light directly across from the nursing home where Travis’s mother lived. I felt another pang of guilt. I hadn’t visited my mother-in-law since that first meeting we’d had. I remembered Travis telling me not to stop by without him, but I didn’t see what harm it would cause. Besides, it would be part of my penance for being such a conniving wife.
When I walked through the doors of the nursing home, it was abuzz with activity, quite unlike the day Travis and I visited. It took me a few moments to get the staff nurse’s attention, because she seemed to be doing ten things at once.
Finally she looked up from a stack of papers and asked in an irritated tone, “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Yes. I’m here to see a patient. Her name is Mrs. Moon.”
The nurse frowned. “We do not have a Mrs. Moon here.”
“Oh, you must be mistaken. She’s my mother-in-law, and I just recently visited her with my husband.”
The nurse, still shaking her head, asked, “Do you know which room she was in?”
I led the nurse down the hallway to the last room on the right. We went into the room, and Mrs. Moon was lying in bed, sleeping peacefully.
I pointed to the woman and said, “This is Mrs. Moon, my mother-in-law. I’d just like to sit with her for a while.”
The nurse replied, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but this woman’s name is Bertha Washington.”
“But doesn’t she have a son named Travis?” I asked, feeling confused.
“Mrs. Washington doesn’t have a son, but she does have three daughters who visit her daily. She has a grandson named William, I think, but he’s just a teenager.”
I gasped upon hearing these facts, and ran out of the nursing home with tears streaming down my face. What kind of man was I dealing with who would lie about the identity of his own mother? I was afraid to think about what else Travis could be lying about.
I went home ready to confront Travis, but when I pulled into our driveway, his van was gone. I’d missed him—he was already on his way to Detroit for the weekend. I felt consumed with anger, wondering what he was really doing in Detroit.
Desperately I dialed his cell phone number, and the voice mail came on immediately. A frustrated roar came from my lips. It didn’t even sound like me. I was at my wit’s end and there was nothing I could do but wait.
I picked up the phone again, wondering who I could call for support. I dialed Ebony’s home number, tears still streaming down my face. She answered on the first ring.
“Charmayne?”
“Yes . . . Ebony, I need you to pray with me. Right now.”
Sensing the desperation in my voice, Ebony prayed, “Father, in the name of Jesus, I come to you right now. We’re asking that you restore and renew, Lord. Send your angels in to bring peace, Lord. Right now, O God.”
“Yes, Lord . . . ,” I agreed as my leg shook uncontrollably.
“We ask that you be a fence around Charmayne, dear Lord,” Ebony continued. “Give her strength for this day and the days to follow. Protect her mind, Jesus, protect her heart. Lord, lead her and guide her. You will be a light to her path, O God. I speak peace into the atmosphere, in the name of Jesus . . . Amen.”
We sat on the telephone, me not saying anything, and Ebony whispering “Jesus” over and over. Her voice calmed me somewhat, even as I felt myself unraveling. I thought back on all the warnings I’d received and ignored. And now the one who had warned me the most was praying for me.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Ebony asked.
“No, no, no,” I sobbed. “I can’t, Ebony. Just keep praying for me.”
I couldn’t speak Travis’s betrayal out loud, because part of me wanted to believe that it wasn’t happening. I wanted to wake up and realize I’d been dreaming. Then I could continue my fantasy of Travis being the loving husband and me being his respectful wife.
I spent the entire weekend waiting. Travis was set to be home on Sunday afternoon, when I would normally be praising the Lord at Bread of Life. But that Sunday, I had other plans. I wanted to confront Travis without giving him the luxury of preparing himself or finding out what I’d discovered.
I woke up early Sunday morning and drove down the street. I parked my car in the garage of a home for sale, then walked back home. My neighbor Clara watched my actions curiously out of her window. I supposed I looked demented, but I couldn’t stand nosy people.
Back at home, I went into my bedroom and waited. At a little after noon, I heard Travis’s van pull into the driveway. I braced myself for battle. Travis wouldn’t know what hit him.
I sat tensely on the edge of my bed waiting for him to come upstairs, but instead I heard him talking. He was on the telephone. Cautiously, I walked to the bedroom door, so that I could hear him more clearly.
“Look, I don’t want to have this conversation right now. I’m back home.” He had an annoyed tone in his voice. “No. I cannot come back to Detroit! Not until next week . . . Of course I’ll miss you.”
My hands balled into fists and I felt my temperature rise. I wanted to scream. Not another woman! I thought I could handle anything but that. It was going to be more of a battle than I thought.
“Leslie . . . don’t be like this . . .”
So the heifer’s name was Leslie! My worst fears had been confirmed. I knew that there was another woman. My instincts had been correct. Hot tears splashed my clothing and the floor in front of me.
“I love you . . . no . . . say it back . . . I’m not hanging up until you do.”
I was ready to explode. I had never been a part of something so surreal. It was as if I were watching my life unfold on the big screen.
Travis finally said good-bye and ended that torturous call. I stood frozen in place, unable to move but unable to dismiss what I’d heard. Travis was coming up the stairs, but I was still in a state of shock.
Travis saw me standing in the doorway, and his face paled. He hadn’t expected me to be there, and I hadn’t expected his affair to be revealed. We were both full of surprises that day.
“What are you doing home?” he asked.
“I live here.”
“But your car—”
“Is down the street.”
“Why?”
“I’m done answering questions. It’s your turn. Who is Leslie?”
Travis sighed and dropped his head.
I repeated, “Who is she? Is she your mistress? Have you been seeing her all along?”
For a brief instant Travis looked puzzled. “Oh, you think Leslie is—”
I cut him off. “I think? I heard you on the phone, Travis! You told her you loved her! You said that you’d miss her. Do you think I’m an idiot?”
Travis shook his head. “No, Charmayne. But you’re wrong about Leslie.”
“What? Are you going to tell me she’s your long-lost sister? Maybe your daughter? Another surprise for me, Travis?” I was furious, my questions coming back-to-back. I didn’t even take a breath between words.
“Leslie is not my sister or my daughter. Les is my lover.”
I must have heard wrong. “Les? As in the best man at our wedding?”
“Yes. We’ve been together for fourteen years . . . since college.” Travis spoke slowly and deliberately.
My mind reeled. Travis had hit me with the mother of all surprises. It was something that only transpired on talk shows, but it was happening to me, in my house.
“If you’re gay, why did you marry me?” The tone of my voice was sharp and piercing. “Was it the money?”
Travis sighed again and scratched his head.
“So it was the money! I can’t believe this.” I was dizzy. I closed my eyes and held my head to keep the room from spinning.
I was frozen in time. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak another word. So Travis did all the talking.
“Charmayne, this has nothing to do with us. It’s a side of me that I never thought you’d find out about. It doesn’t diminish my love for you.”
I stood there wondering if Travis was a lunatic. How could he think that I would accept his revelation and go on as if everything was fine and dandy? Travis obviously had no intention of letting all my liquid assets get away. Suddenly I remembered why I had wanted to confront him originally. “Why did you lie about your mother?”
Travis chuckled. “I’m just caught, huh? Like a rat in a trap. See, this is what happens when you don’t trust people. I hope you found what you were looking for.”
I ignored his ridiculous rhetoric. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I lied about my mother because if I introduced you to my real family, they would’ve told you about Les. I couldn’t bring myself to say that my mother was dead. I thought that was bad luck.”
“Lying is bad luck,” I replied angrily, pronouncing every syllable as if they were daggers.
“So it is.”
We stared at each other blankly, neither one of us willing to take another step. For me the conversation was going to lead to the inevitable. The demise of my marriage.
Travis ventured into dangerous waters. “Charmayne, I’ve been bisexual ever since I can remember. I can’t be satisfied by just one sex. I’ve tried, but it doesn’t work.”
“That’s probably the first truthful thing you’ve said to me since we met,” I said, shaking my head at the irony of it all.
The most devastating lie of all wasn’t that his best friend was also his lover. Nor was it that Mama didn’t really suffer from Alzheimer’s. The most heart-wrenching lie was Travis telling me that he loved me. Those three little untrue words spoke more about his character than anything else. Travis was a cruel monster, and I had been his prey.
After a deep, mind-clearing breath, I declared, “You disgust me.”
“So what are we going to do?”
“You are going to get out of my house.”
His eyes flooded with tears. “Can I at least pack my things?”
“What things? You ain’t got nothing here! Everything in this house I bought. It’s all mine.”
Travis stood up straight, perhaps to be menacing, but I was not afraid. “You gone keep my clothes, Charmayne?”
“Uh, no. I’m gone keep my clothes.”
Travis tried at first to go around me into the bedroom. When he saw that I was serious about not moving out of his way, he backed down.
He said, “I’m going to give you some time to cool off. Then we can talk about this.”
Travis walked away from me and down the hall. He looked back once, and after taking in the rage on my face he continued downstairs.
“Leave that cell phone on the table. I got that account. It belongs to me,” I called down the stairs.
“You know I need this phone for work.”
“I know you use it to contact your lover. I’m not going to be a part of your sin. Leave my cell phone on the table.”
Travis looked back once more, his eyes pleading for understanding. I gave him nothing. Not even a hint of sadness that he was leaving. I just wanted him gone.
I watched from the window for a sign of remorse or of the love I believed that he’d felt for me. The only expression Travis wore was one of silent resignation, as if he’d just done something as simple as losing a basketball game. I stood at my window with tears streaming down my face, the gravity of Travis’s offenses weighing on me heavily. Violated, I fell to my knees, sobbing. Finally I found a voice that croaked out two words. Why Lord?
Going to work the following Monday was torture. It had crossed my mind to call in sick, but I was afraid that I’d spend the entire day crying over Travis. It was bad enough that my eyes were bloodshot and swollen from crying all weekend. I’d avoided everyone, and I’d even missed church.
My assistant, Donna, noticed that I was out of sorts, and I could tell that she was looking for clues as to the reason. I didn’t share the details of my personal life at work, however, so I had no intention of telling her anything.
On my way into my office I said, “Let me know if tech support calls. I just dropped off my laptop to be upgraded.”
Donna replied, “I sure will.”
“Thank you.”
Donna asked tentatively, “Is everything okay? You look tired, or ill.”
I responded blandly, “I’m fine. Hold my calls this morning, okay? I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on.”
I sat down at my desk and attempted to weed through the mass of papers that I called an in-box, but I spent most of my energy trying to keep from crying. Listening to my voice mail was what finally caused me to break down. Hearing Travis’s voice saying that he loved me was too much.
I had barely had a chance to pull myself together when Donna burst into my office and frantically proclaimed, “Charmayne, the board of directors has called an emergency meeting. They said that the meeting is today at one o’clock and that your attendance is mandatory.”
“Wait a minute, Donna. Slow down. Who said there’s a meeting?”
“Bishop Gordon just called.”
“That’s funny. I usually get an e-mail from the board.”
Donna shrugged and walked out of the office. I tried to go into my e-mail account, but for some reason the password wasn’t working. It was strange, because I knew my password. I wasn’t one of those clients who had to call technical support because they forgot a password over the weekend. I tried my password once more, making sure the CAPS LOCK key wasn’t on and that I typed very slowly. I was still denied access. I called electronic mail support to fix the problem immediately because I was not in the mood for computer system issues.
“E-mail support. May I help you?”
“Yes. This is Charmayne Ellis, and I’m calling about my e-mail account. My password isn’t working.”
“Hmm . . . Charmayne, what error message are you getting when you put your password in?”
“Um . . . it says, USER ACCESS REVOKED.”
“Really? Let me take a look at your account.”
I heard a flurry of typing and then silence. After a few moments there was more typing, and then the support person put me on hold. I couldn’t stand being put on hold, even if I was asked nicely. And this support person didn’t even ask. Maybe he didn’t know that I was the president of the bank.
“Charmayne? Thanks for holding.”
“Yes. I’m still here.”
“Well, it looks like Corporate Information Security has put a freeze on your e-mail account. There is a fraud alert on your account. As soon as that is lifted, I can unfreeze your password.”
“Info Security? What is going on? Who do I need to talk to over there?”
“I’m not sure, but their extension is—”
“I know the number.”
I could feel myself getting irritated and a little bit worried. First a surprise board meeting, and then a frozen e-mail account? It seemed too coincidental. And what did they mean by fraud alert? Instead of dialing Corporate Information Security, I dialed Bishop Gordon’s office.
“Praise the Lord.”
“Bishop Gordon. It’s Charmayne Ellis. What’s going on? Who called the board meeting?”
“Charmayne. You used your maiden name. Was that done on purpose?”
“No.”
“I am not at liberty to discuss anything with you now, Charmayne. Just be sure to attend the board meeting.”
When I walked into the boardroom, I wore my brightest smile. Not one of the board members smiled back. A few of them actually looked angered by my smile, as if I had no right to it. I tried to read Pastor Jenkins’s expression, but even he was wearing a poker face.
Bishop Gordon said, “Charmayne. Please have a seat.”
There were several chairs available, but I selected the one that gave me the best view of all of the board members. I supposed that no matter what seat I chose, it was obvious that I was in the hot seat.
I said, “I would really appreciate us dispensing with any formalities and getting right to the point today. I’ve been put off all morning.”
Bishop Donaldson replied, “I’ll be happy to get to the point. But first, let me ask you . . . when is the last time you used your company credit card?”
“It’s been weeks . . . I don’t use it on a regular basis.”
“Well, do you know of the card’s whereabouts?”
“Yes. I keep it in a safe at home.”
Bishop Donaldson cleared his throat. “Well, somehow it has made its way out of your safe and into the hands of your husband.”
“What!”
“Flags are raised when there are more than two cash advances on the card in a five-day time span. The card was used at several different ATMs, and a grand total of five thousand dollars was withdrawn.”
I scoffed, “Surely you don’t think that I authorized or had anything to do with those transactions.”
“Maybe not, but we pulled camera tape from each of the locations where the card was used. It is clearly your husband. He seemed to know the PIN number by heart. That is what concerns the board.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say in my defense as I stared into ten pairs of unsympathetic eyes. I thought about the little piece of paper with the PIN number written on it that I had taped to the front of the card. I had no reason to believe that anyone was going to go into my safe and conduct unauthorized business.
Bishop Gordon asked, “Sister Moon, do you have anything to say in response?”
“What can I say, Bishop? Obviously Travis obtained the number from me. My question is, What are we going to do about it? I can write a check right now to cover any improper withdrawals. Let’s dispense with this matter quickly so that I can get back to work.”
“Before you take out your checkbook, let me give you all of the offenses,” continued Bishop Gordon. “Travis has also used your company phone to rack up fifty thousand dollars in calls to pornographic nine-hundred numbers.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “I don’t understand—”
“And lastly, it has been brought to our attention that you approved Travis’s twenty-thousand-dollar small-business loan. Don’t you think that approving the loan for a fiancé is a conflict of interest?”
“All the documentation was there. The loan officer just needed a second opinion. What can I do to make this all go away?”
Bishop Donaldson said, “I’m afraid that it’s not that easy, Charmayne. By allowing your husband to gain access to sensitive information, you have opened the bank up to a security breach and the possibility of losing thousands of dollars.”
I asked in desperation, “Can we not just apprehend Travis and press charges? I won’t object.”
“If this was merely a financial matter, then perhaps. However, there have been more disturbing findings.”
“Bishop Donaldson, what are you talking about?”
“Charmayne, when tech support upgraded your laptop, they performed a scan on your hard drive, including all the cookies and registry entries. There is an alarming amount of pornography downloaded onto your hard drive. Additionally, there are cookies for porn Web sites that correspond with charges placed on the company credit card account.”
I could not open my mouth to respond; my face was frozen in shock. I couldn’t even blink back the tears that were forming in the corners of my eyes. In the whole group of men, there was not one sympathetic face. Not even Pastor Jenkins, my own father in the gospel, seemed understanding. Some of the board members even looked disgusted . . . but they couldn’t have been more disgusted than I was. It was my mate they were talking about.
Pastor Jenkins asked, “Daughter, were you aware that any of this was going on?” There was loving concern in his voice.
“Of course I wasn’t, Pastor.”
Bishop Donaldson said, “Well, whether you knew or not, you are still responsible for everything that has transpired. You must make this right by paying Grace Savings and Loan one hundred seventy-five thousand dollars.”
“One hundred seventy-five thousand dollars! What if I don’t pay?”
“Then we’ll be forced to prosecute Travis. At the very least you would have to testify against him in court, but you may also be viewed as an accomplice.”
“You would prosecute me?” I asked with tears burning my face. The thought of testifying in court terrified me. Everyone would know what Travis had done to me; there would be no hiding from it. I had no choice but to pay the bank almost everything I’d saved.
Pastor Jenkins said, “We wouldn’t want to, Charmayne. But surely we can expect to receive your resignation immediately.”
I was shocked beyond words. “My resignation? You want me to resign?”
“You must know that the president of the bank must be above reproach. We could’ve fired you. But since we know that you didn’t conduct any fraudulent activity personally, we will allow you to resign with dignity. I need your resignation on my desk by the end of the day.”
“But what about my projects? Will you even give me time to prepare my replacement?”
“There’s no need for that,” said Bishop Gordon. “Your biggest endeavor, the Teach a Man to Fish program, will be terminated. It posed too high of a financial risk to the bank anyway.”
I got to my feet angrily. “This is not fair! I’ve given you and this bank my heart and soul! I’ve worked too hard to build this place up from nothing! And this is how you treat me?” I crumbled back into my seat lifelessly.
Pastor Jenkins said, “Charmayne, you know that if you need a letter of recommendation . . .”
“Thank you, Pastor.”
Everyone started hastily packing their briefcases. I believed that my tears made them uncomfortable. They all left one by one, including my own pastor, so I assumed that the meeting was over. We had been in the conference room for less than half an hour. My career had been completely eradicated in under thirty minutes. It hardly seemed long enough to destroy hopes and dreams. You couldn’t bake a cake in half an hour. You couldn’t even watch a good movie in half an hour. Thirty minutes was just long enough for a television family to solve some trivial problem with lots of hugs, kisses, and I love yous. But to take everything I’d worked for all my life and make it disappear like a puff of smoke? Thirty minutes just didn’t seem long enough for that.