A Seal Upon Your Heart (2 page)

Once they had watched a movie about faith and the husband and wife had kissed. Jane had felt a strange sensation at the sight of it. But Sister Nicolette said that those feelings were bad and needed to be suppressed. You weren’t allowed to touch yourself because doing so would only make you act on those bad feelings.

Later Dhakiya had said that Sister Nicolette was s stupid cow. “Jane it is your body to do with as you please. Who are they to say it is wrong to find pleasure in touching or even imagining?” She knew that her friend was right, but the sister’s were so convincing when they taught that those feelings were bad. And therefore you didn’t associate with things that brought those feelings to light. Yet she still could not completely forget that kiss. Her heart would race and her ears would ring and her eyes would imagine a man that wanted to place his lips on hers.

Why should that be bad? It wasn’t coupling. It was just her body becoming joyous—and not just over the idea of being married to God.

After an hour of brisk walking she finally reached town. She went straight for the public library because it was the only other place that she felt familiar with; it was almost like home, a place to study, to enjoy time away from the sisters, to read about things that didn’t have scripture in it. The library was more of a home to her than the school.

But her purpose for being there was to use the public phone. She slipped in the necessary coins and dialed the number that was on the letter that she nervously clutched. Maybe Dhakiya wouldn’t want to hear from her after all this time. Maybe she would be disappointed that she had chosen to stay so long when Dhakiya could barely wait to escape.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Dhakiya? I can’t believe it’s really you!” Any hesitation immediately left her at the familiar sound of her best friend’s voice.

“Ah! Martier? My God, little one, I never thought I’d hear from you.” Her rich voice caused Jane to smile. The accent was still present even though Jane had pretty much lost hers. “Where are you? Are you still at the school?”

“Yes-”

“Please tell me that you haven’t become a nun?!”

“No-”

“Thank God! We have to get caught up! Can we get together?” Her friend was speaking rapidly and Jane couldn’t help but to laugh out loud.

“Yes. I was hoping you’d say that-”

“Where are you? I can come get you.” Jane couldn’t stop smiling at her friend’s enthusiasm and it was almost as if they hadn’t last seen each other seven long years ago.  Jane told her where she was and waited for Dhakiya to come and get her.

CHAPTER 2

Tim hung up the phone with a scowl. Sister-whatever-her-name-is had wrangled a favor out of him
. He’d promised some girl a job, and not just any girl but one from a convent! The firm only hired through a temp service. It just made it much simpler to get rid of them.

Working closely with an assistant, a secretary, a paralegal was all very personal. Whether or not a girl stayed around for any amount of time should have been based on their knowledge and skill, but looks factored in just as importantly. Some even looked for the pretty ones. Tim knew this from experience. Once upon a time, hadn’t he done the same? An attorney involved in an interoffice affair was par for the course. Not that he had been married at the time, but close proximity and long hours just made things happen. However, he had never been tempted to cheat on Corrine, of that he was proud.

With a sigh, he grabbed his briefcase and left the office.

“Good night Mr. Singleton.” The temp said. He didn’t even try to think of her name. She was the third one that he’d had in the last six months. It had been a bad year…

He muttered some type of response and left, thinking about what he’d do with the girl from the school. He’d dump her into the clerical pool, or maybe the mailroom. There was no way that she could mess anything up down there.

Corrine had been very fond of her causes; one of which had been little orphaned children. He barely knew which charity his checks went to. His dear Corrine had been the one to keep up with that. But now…Tim shook the thought out of his head and stepped into the elevator. Joan, from records, gave him a soft smile. She was the only other person in the elevator.

“Tim. How are you?” He bit back his scowl. He despised that sound in people’s voices; pity or sympathy or-god forbid warmth. Warmth was the last thing he needed. If he stayed cold then he didn’t have to feel anything.

“Fine and yourself?” He responded dispassionately.

“I’m fine.” Tim didn’t look at her but he already knew the expression he’d see on her face; her eyes would be liquid and her brow gathered with a look of concern. “If you ever need to talk or anything…”

Anything.

He glanced at her and saw that instead of the liquid pools of concern, her eyes held an expression of interest. Well for fucks sake! Corrine’s only been dead a year. How dare she look at him like he was available, on the market, single, not still married to the ghost of his dead wife.

The elevator door opened and he allowed his face to show a bit of the disgust that he felt.

“Thank you, Joan. But I’m fine.” He swept out of the lift angrily, knowing that he was being an ass and taking his frustrations out on her, but not completely sure how to reign in his temper. He was just happy that once he left the office there would be no one to focus that anger on.

Tim drove the forty-five minute trip to the house that he’d had built for his wife nearly 15 years before. It was much too large for just the two of them. It was meant for all of the children that Corrine had wanted to have—but couldn’t.

Tim pulled the car into the garage and went into the house through the kitchen. There were dishes in the sink, which he ignored. He’d get to them this weekend sometime. He slipped off his suit jacket and hung it on the back of the barstool then searched the refrigerator for something to eat. He settled on cold cuts and made a quick sandwich. He washed it down with a beer without even bothering to sit, then went into his office to work on a case until he had an excuse to go up stairs and climb into his solitary bed.

He thought about the nun and wondered why he would even consider helping her. He hadn’t had a personal relationship with God even before Corrine had lost her battle with breast cancer. All it had taken for him to become a disbeliever was the sight of her wilting body, the loss of her strawberry blonde hair. She had always been petite, and waiflike, but the chemo had eaten her up as much as the cancer had.

Tim closed his eyes. He knew the reason he was helping. It’s because Corrine would have wanted it.

~***~

Dhakiya drove up in a little car. It was kind of beat up but a beat up car was better than no car at all. They hugged forever. The changes in her friend were astounding. Like Jane, she was tall but unlike Jane she had filled out in all the right places. Jane was too thin and gangly; like a giraffe. But Dhakiya’s mocha skin shone and her hair lay in gorgeous twists that reached her shoulders. She was dressed comfortably in a pair of jeans and a colorful sweater. She wore many bangles on her wrists; which Jane knew was just as much cultural as it was decorative.

“Martier…” Her friend placed her hands on her cheeks. “You haven’t changed one bit.” She placed a kiss on her lips then hugged her again. Jane had a dark mahogany brown complexion and ebony black hair that curled into silky locks. Unlike most that she saw with similar dark coloring, Jane had sharp features that made her seem more European than the African Americans here in the states. Jane wore her long hair twisted and pinned to the back of her neck. At nearly six feet tall she was always the center of attention, though she didn’t realize that it had less to do with her height and more to do with her striking beauty.

Even wearing shapeless dresses and skirts and even though she lowered her eyes to look at the ground hoping that she would go unnoticed, her beauty could not be denied. But, of course there was no one to tell her this. Her life was the school and the sisters. Even when she had attended college, it was to an all-girl’s academy. Venturing into town in order to enjoy a bit of freedom was the only time that she became aware of the stares. And if she stared at the ground and never met anyone’s eyes, she learned that she became invisible.

The two young women climbed into the small car and drove back to Dhakiya’s apartment. Jane instantly fell in love with it, even though it was just a one bedroom with barely any room for all of Dhakiya’s artwork. Everything was of beautiful black people, sometimes painted with blacks and purples, sometimes with golds and pinks, some were of babies and some were lovers. They were very beautiful.

“Tell me about yourself, sis. Are you an artist?” Jane looked around the apartment as if she were in a fine museum.

“No,” her friend chuckled as she led them to a very small, very clean kitchen. “This artwork reminds me of my other life, the one before this one.”

“What did you do when you left the school?” Jane asked as she accepted a glass of lemonade. She had already learned that Dhakiya worked in customer service at a local cable TV company.

Dhakiya took a seat and gave the younger girl a careful look. “I went into therapy.”

Jane frowned. “Therapy…”

“I was very messed up. I still am. And no…don’t ask me if I prayed on it!” They both chuckled. It was the thing the sister’s always said when things got tough.

“Christ is the only therapy you need,” Jane mocked.

“Well Christ will be there to pick up the pieces when I lose my mind. But the thing is to try not to lose it in the first place!”

“I hear you!”

Dhakiya’s eyes grew sharp. “So what in the hell are you still doing at that school?”

“Well…I’ve been going to school and I just got my degree.”

“Congratulations. I always knew you were college material. But you have to get out of there, Martier. Their piousness is their poison.”

Jane shook her head, becoming uncomfortable. “You sound like one of those people they always talk about-”

Dhakiya’s dark lips twisted. “You mean one of those that are trying to lead you down the wrong path?” She rose and headed for the living room with Jane following close on her heels ready to apologize. “Do you still read the same book of the bible?” Her friend asked off-handedly.

Jane blushed and tried to deny it. Dhakiya reached a bookshelf and after a moment selected a book which she thrust into her friend’s hand. Jane saw that it was a collection of poems by Maya Angelou.  She gave her a puzzled look.

“Do you know of this woman?”

“I know the name but haven’t ever read her works.”

“I want you to take this book. Read it. Read these poems and then you tell me if they are evil, if I am sending you down the wrong path.”

Jane nodded solemnly and they continued catching up while Jane explained her dilemma. Dhakiya revealed that she lived with her boyfriend. He was an African American man that was also an auto mechanic. She was in love and offered to prepare Jane a traditional dinner one day soon so that she could introduce them.

“I’d let you live here, but-“

Jane was already shaking her head. She couldn’t live with a man she didn’t know. How different her friend had become. They weren’t raised to live with a man in sin. She felt guilty judging her. But she also was not willing to cast away all that she had learned from the sisters just because Dhakiya could.

“When you have enough to pay for half of the deposit and first month’s rent then I’ll help you with the other half.”

“Are you sure?!”

“Very much so.”

As Dhakiya drove Jane back to school, she slipped a CD into the player. Jane began to nod her head to the beat of drums behind soft music. But then a voice began to sing and Jane’s eyes grew large. She looked quickly at Dhakiya. The female singer was chanting in Kinyarwanda and the voices of children could be heard. The music caused her heart to ache and her mouth flew open. She remembered…running in the sun with other little boys and girls…their voices were like bells-