This is a lil’ something I wrote a while back….not sure where I’m going with this. Just playing with words, I guess!
Every time she tried to forget about him, he always seemed to find his way back to her.
She’d tried to delete his number.
That didn’t work so well because although she could easily delete the number from her phone, she couldn’t delete it from her mind.
It was engraved in her mind forever.
She’d tried to forget his address, too, just so that she wouldn’t dare to step even five miles near his residence. But that didn’t work either. In fact, she often found herself standing outside his house. Neighbors questioned her motives, and of course, they no longer recognized her. They just thought she was a mad lady obsessed with the beautiful two-story, modern, chic, cement home. The house had a large balcony shaded by a white awning, suspended on cement brackets. It was so inviting and alluring at the same time. It wasn’t just a balcony to her. It was a place for love and relaxation. She caught herself reminiscing on the days when she’d spend afternoons in that balcony, surrounded by nothing else but the silence around her and the noise inside her head—her thoughts. As quiet as it may have been around her, she could never stop herself from thinking too much. She’d just stand and stretch her arms out as they rested on the cement brackets. She’d feel the wind rush from the back of her neck and brush against her cheeks as her hair danced with the wind. Just being there was paradise. He would always sneak up behind her and wrap his arms around her as they’d look out into the sky and stare at the stars. They would even talk about their dreams and the future. Yes, he often talked about a future with her. It wasn’t every day, but on occasion.
It happened. It wasn’t a dream.
Why did he claim that it never happened? Surely she wasn’t hallucinating or crazy.
She’d tried forgetting his name.
But every time she tried harder, she’d end up meeting someone with that very same first name or last name. Either at her job, school, or in a grocery store. It was in books she read. Magazines. Newspapers.
He was everywhere.
Invading her space. Her thoughts. He mind. Her life.
Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Why couldn’t he understand that she needed to be free from him? That she was imprisoned with memories of him. Them.
Who would free her from such a life?
His name suddenly echoed in her mind, forcing her to resent him even more.
“Leave me alone,” she yelled! “Why can’t you just let me be? Get out of my head!” She pulled her hair dramatically, portraying the madness she was battling.
People around her stared at her bizarrely and murmured among themselves as they walked through the busy Dallas North Park mall.
“Crazy lady talking to herself. Don’t mind her, honey,” a mother whispered to her child who seemed afraid and taken back by the scene.
Estelle didn’t mind her. She knew she wasn’t crazy. As more people began to stare at her, she pulled her blouse and tied the straps even tighter as if she was protecting herself from them. Then she walked away ferociously toward the opposite direction.
They all thought she was just another crazy woman who talked to herself, but they didn’t know where she’d come from or what she’d gone through. She was once a normal person too. No. She was more than the average normal person. She had a great career. She was an attorney at Tim Dublin Associates and was known as one of the top attorney in Texas according to Super Lawyers. She also had a great personality and was always full of life. Her smile was breathtaking, and oh, what a beautiful woman she was. Men who worked with her found it so difficult to accept the fact that she was a single woman. Her life was just incredible.
That is, until Leroy Nelson destroyed her.
No. He first controlled her, manipulated her, and then he destroyed her.
Now she was less than a woman. Less than a person. She was homeless. Jobless. She’d lost everything, which later birthed a heartless woman out of her. Estelle was wronged by her own beloved friend, lover, and counselor: Pastor Leroy Nelson.
That’s right. Pastor Leroy Nelson. Her own and dearest pastor.
Estelle would’ve done anything for him…
She knew she shouldn’t have gotten involved.
“He’s a stupid African-American man,” her mother would say.
“Mom, he’s a nice man of God. How can you say such a thing?” Estelle would defend herself.
“He only wants your money. I bet he doesn’t even know where Congo is on the map,” her sister would provoke her.
They were right. He wanted her money and so much more. He left her broke, or perhaps broken.
TO BE CONTINUED….