Drink waters out of thine own cistern, and running waters out of thine own well.
—Proverbs 5:15
“Well, hello there. Fatima Adams, isn’t it?” a male voice said behind her.
Fatima stopped. It couldn’t be. She turned around. She was on her way inside the sanctuary, and yes, trailing behind her was Darius Connors along with his wife.
“Good morning,” Fatima said in a deliberately dry tone.
“And how are you this fine, blessed Sunday morning?” Darius was particularly upbeat and cheery, different from the way he usually interacted with Fatima.
“Fine,” Fatima said, continuing on and trying not to look at either of them.
“Honey, have you met Fatima Adams?” Darius said. “She’s been a member here for what? About a year now?”
“Nine months,” Fatima said, trying her best to sound polite instead of irritated.
“No,” Darius’s wife said, “I don’t believe I have.” She walked up and offered her hand to Fatima. “I’m Tiffany Connors, Darius’s wife. Pleased to meet you.”
Fatima shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.” She then quickly turned back around and started walking even faster, hoping to put enough distance between them to ensure she wouldn’t end up having to sit anywhere near them.
The ushers were directing everybody to the seats they wanted to fill up first, as always. Fatima attempted to go over to the other side, but they motioned for her to sit in the row on the side where she had entered. She sat down, and just as she figured would happen, Darius sat right next to her with his wife next to him. She wanted to get up and go to another area, but that would have been too suspicious and too obvious.
You can do this, Fatima, you can do this. Just keep your mind on Jesus.
The dance team came out. Before they began, the leader instructed everybody on how she wanted the audience to participate during certain parts of the song.
“When you hear the words, we want you to turn to the person next to you and sing the words to him or her. Then we’re going to do it again so you can sing to the person on the other side of you. Does everybody understand how we’re doing this?”
“Yes!” The audience’s voices exploded as they clapped with excitement.
The dance team, dressed in a variety of pastel-colored chiffon outfits of the same design, was dancing to “I Need You to Survive” by Hezekiah Walker. Fatima knew this was not good at all. And just as she suspected, Darius made an extra effort for her to feel his heart when he shook her hand during the appointed time in the song.
He smiled at her, purposely making his eyes dance. He caressed the back of her hand in a subtle, circular motion with his thumb. He held her hand longer than was necessary for that portion of the song, causing her to have to pull it out of his hand without making too much of a scene. When they came to the second verse, which was about praying for each other, he forced her to look back into his eyes as the words, “I love you; I need you to survive” were now being sung. He knew the connection they shared whenever they gazed into each other’s eyes, and he played it for everything it was worth. She watched him pucker his lips softly and send her a kiss without anyone else being able to detect he’d just done it.
Fatima was messed up for the rest of the service. She didn’t understand how a person could take a perfectly nice song and use it the way Darius had just done on her. He had rattled her, and what was worst: he knew it. It didn’t seem to faze him in the least that he had been practically flirting with her in church literally right in front of his own wife without her ever suspecting a thing.
“You’re sick!” Fatima said to Darius when he called her after she arrived home from church. She had been so upset with the stunt he’d pulled today. She literally snatched the phone off its base on the first ring after she saw his name pop up on the caller ID. “You should be ashamed of yourself! But I already know that you’re not.”
“Well, you wouldn’t talk to me. And it’s not like I planned it. We just happened to arrive around the same time as you. And the ushers made us sit pretty much where they wanted us to sit, you included. You know all of this. But I do thank God at least I got to tell you in person what I’ve been leaving in messages on your machine for the past six weeks. I love you,” he began to sing the song again, “I need you to survive.” He paused, then quickly spoke again. “Dumping me the way you did and then refusing to talk to me about it is not going to change how I feel about you. And I suspect you feel the same way about me. We have a bond whether we want it to be there or not.” He let out a loud sigh. “The question is: What are we going to do about it?”
“I’m trying to do the right thing. You’re a married man, Darius. Has that fact somehow slipped your mind, even now, after having gone to church with your wife, might I add?” She put emphasis on the words church and wife. “The fact remains: you belong to someone else. This is not right to her, or to me, for that matter.”
“Oh, so I suppose you don’t believe this affects me in any negative way?”
“How? Oh, you mean the fact that you’re committing adultery? It affects you? You’re getting the best of both worlds. You have a wife that you’re building a life with. You have a family…. Then you had me on the side. Had, mind you. Had. Past tense. Your wife wasn’t getting everything she was entitled to. And as for me…”
“What about you?”
“I got the leftovers, the crumbs. I was the one who—at the end of the day—had no one. I was the one who had to wait for you to make or find some time for. You couldn’t care less if I needed you. I was on my own.”
“That’s not true. I cared. I still care. I just couldn’t always get away. And you’re being a big baby about it. Goodness, Fatima, you just need to grow up. You should understand how life works by now. We don’t always get what we want when we want it.”
“So, what’s your point? I should be happy for whatever I get? Is that the way you think I should live my life? Waiting days…weeks…possibly a month for you to be able to slip away and give me an hour or two of your stolen time? Is that all I deserve?”
“What was wrong with that? It’s the quality of time, not always the quantity, that matters most. And you definitely got quality.”
“Of course you would say something like that.”
“You know I love you.” His voice was softer.
“I won’t argue that you don’t. But you know what? I think Tina Turner may have put it best: ‘What’s love got to do with it?’”
Darius paused for a second before he answered. “So, what are you trying to say? You really don’t want to be with me? Do you really expect me to believe it’s over between us just because you can’t have what you want when you want it?”
Fatima started laughing. “You know what, Darius?”
“What?”
“I have someone in my life who truly loves me. He loves me enough that there’s nothing He wouldn’t do for me. He gives me flowers every day, floods me with them year round, but especially during the summertime. He hung the moon and the stars for me. Do you hear me? He loved me so much He gave His life to save me. Me, Darius. Do you hear me? Me. And I want to do right by Him.”
Darius started laughing. “Oh, my goodness. Will you just listen at you? Sounds like you’ve gone over the spiritual edge like so many others these days. Now I suppose you want me to believe that you have Jesus in your life and that’s enough?”
“No. I’m not expecting you to believe anything. In fact, see if you can believe this.” And she hung up. She tossed the silenced phone on the couch and flopped down next to it as she began to cry. She did have Jesus. So why was that not enough?
Darius looked at his now hushed phone. “Oh, my dear, Fatima, it’s not over. You might think it’s over but it’s not. You see, if you didn’t care, you never would have answered the phone like you did. And you wouldn’t be exhibiting such intense emotions. I see what I need to do for you now. We just need some alone time together.” He smiled. “Just me and you, person to person. And we can straighten this all up in no time flat. You and I are not over, definitely not. We’re a long way from being over.” He smiled, put his cell phone back inside his pants’ pocket, and walked back inside the house.
“Find what you were looking for out there?” Tiffany asked when he came back in the kitchen.
“Not yet. But you know me; I won’t give up until I do. I know I put that drill somewhere. I thought it might be in the storage house. Guess I was wrong. I just need to keep searching until I can put my hands on it again.” He kissed his wife on the cheek and grinned. “Dinner smells de-li-cious! Just like you.” He puckered up and kissed the air.