Temptation Chronicles

For Better or For Worse

Chapter 1

I searched the entire house for my husband, Terrell. I had already been sitting amongst my former college teammates in the same spot for more than an hour. Terrell knew I didn’t like spending an entire day at these gatherings, and he’d promised to stay within eyesight. We had a system worked out. If I winked my right eye, that meant I was ready to go. Don’t get me wrong, I loved being around some of my oldest and dearest friends, but only for short periods of time. After I graduated from college, I was glad to get away from the petty cat fights and meaningless gossip. And, after what felt like an eternity of insincere and probing questions about my marriage, I was more than ready to go.         

          These meetings were initially my idea. When I completed seminary two years ago, I was asked to become one of the youth leaders at Metropolitan Church in West Philadelphia. The current youth director had a vision of developing a sports ministry. Since I was a former basketball player the director thought he’d found the perfect match. He was right. In just a few months I was able to launch several programs for the children in the community. The ministry was well received by the congregation and after its first year of inception, I was given permission to take the ministry to a new level. With the help of my husband and a few college teammates, I implemented a mentoring program in the areas of basketball, baseball, football, and volleyball. This quickly became one our most popular programs and eventually we had to open the doors to qualified children throughout the city. More than three hundred children were registered and about a hundred more on a waiting list. With so many children and adult leaders to manage, it felt good to have people I’d known for years by my side. Not everyone attended Metropolitan, but we all believed in Jesus and attended church; some more regularly than others. I prayed about including my college friends for several weeks when Terrell asked me to consider them to oversee a specific sport. Although this was a church environment, I wasn’t sure our different personalities could submit to the cause. I was wrong. Despite a few sibling-type squabbles, we’ve been able to take care of and execute business with few problems.          

          This month, the get-together was held at Angie’s house in Delaware, about forty minutes from downtown Philadelphia. Due to the Memorial Day holiday, our monthly meeting was brief so that we could enjoy the cookout that followed. The social butterfly of the bunch, Angie was delighted and thrilled at the chance to organize such a feat. Besides, the home she shared with her boyfriend­– a five bedroom, four and a half bathroom custom built two-story home, with a finished basement and outdoor pool­– could comfortably accommodate the large group. I walked into the basement, the only place left to search, hoping to find Terrell there. Several of the men also belonged to the same fraternity and were around the pool table reliving their undergrad days. They hopped around the table singing old pledge hymns, their neatly pressed and tucked shirts now wrinkled and half-hanging out of their pants.

          “Have you seen Terry?” I asked no one in particular. None of them responded. The music was too loud, and they were too engrossed in the days of their youth. To get their attention I stepped into the line and interrupted their motion. “Aww, Cheyenne,” they all shouted at once, annoyed that I had stopped their groove. I stood firm and repeated my question. “Has anyone seen my husband?”         

          Moans and muffled snickers filled the room. It was deja vu. Not many people approved of my union with Terrell, and I suppose with good reason. Being a star athlete in college, Terrell had a hard time committing to our relationship. But, that was in the past and we were young. Terrell and I have been married for almost a year now. If I could forgive and forget, they should, too. Clinging to the diamond-studded cross dangling from the chain around my neck, I started to recite an annotated version of Psalms 27. “Though a mighty army surrounds me, my heart will show no fear. Even if–”

          “He was by the pool a few minutes ago,” someone said in the midst of my prayer, and with piercing eyes the other men in the room stared in his direction. I knew then that something was up. “God bless you,” I replied, avoiding eye contact with the others on my way out the patio doors.         

          Outside there was still no sign of Terrell, only my Goddaughters sun bathing by the pool as they exchanged gossip. I cleared my throat and asked, “Have you seen Terry?” My oldest Goddaughter removed the sunglasses from her eyes and placed them on top of her head.

          “He’s around front.”For some reason, my feet wouldn’t move. “By himself?” I asked, my heartbeat accelerating.

          “I don’t think so,” my Goddaughter replied and crossed her legs. “He was with the lady with the pretty hair,” she said innocently.

          Beads of sweat formed above my brow. Rather than stand in front of the kids with a strained look on my face, I forced myself to walk to the front of the house. It was possible I was becoming upset for no reason. Terrell could’ve been playing basketball on the court by the driveway. But as I approached the court I heard an argument taking place. I walked a little faster, and as I drew closer realized that one of the voices belonged to Terrell. The words were difficult to make out, but I could tell that a woman was very upset with him. Swiftly, I turned the corner, reciting Psalm 27 again. I almost emptied the contents in my stomach on the ground when I saw my husband aggressively holding Kamille, a former college fling, against the wall.         

          In shock, I yelled, “What’s going on?” I hadn’t seen Kamille since we graduated from Temple University. Why on earth was she here? This was a private affair, and no one had heard from her since she moved out of the state. “Terry, what’s going on?” I repeated.         

          “Are you gonna tell her, or do you want me to?” Kamille snapped through her uncontrollable sobs.          

          “Somebody needs to tell me something,” I demanded.          

          Terrell walked toward me. “Baby, we should probably leave,” he said as a small crowd formed behind us; my best friends, Angie and Nyemah leading the pack of angry women.          

          “Is everything all right over here, Cheyenne?” Angie questioned, eyeing Terrell suspiciously.          

          I didn’t know what to say. The last time I walked in on Kamille and Terrell was a week before graduation. A few teammates and I had stopped by his apartment to pick up an important letter. I knocked on the door five times, and when no one answered I used the key he gave me to get inside. When we entered there was music coming from his room. I figured Terrell had forgotten to turn it off before leaving, as he had done many times before. My teammates waited by the door while I headed for the kitchen. After grabbing the letter from the table I proceeded to his room. Walking down the hallway I could hear faint noises and a steady but light tap on the wall. I hesitated slightly, afraid of what might be going on behind the closed door. Part of me wanted to believe that one of his friends was using the room, but deep inside I knew it was Terrell. I twisted the doorknob slowly, just in case I was wrong. But when the door opened my suspicions were confirmed.I slammed Terrell’s door so hard a painting in the hallway fell to the floor. Full of tears, I ran back to the living room, Terrell rushing behind me in nothing but a pair of boxers. Kamille flew out of the bedroom and froze when she saw that the three of us were not alone. There was no need for me to explain what had happened to my teammates. Kamille’s untamed hair and unevenly buttoned shirt had said it all.          

          According to Terrell, Kamille exited our lives for good after she graduated and moved to Boston. But, here she was again disrupting our lives. I looked into Terrell’s eyes, pleading for an answer. Kamille stood behind him with her arms tightly folded across her chest. She looked about the same, maybe even a few pounds lighter. Instantly, insecurities I didn’t know existed surfaced.          

          Someone in the crowd asked, “What is she doing here?”          

          “We’re all fine,” Terrell said apprehensively, his hands shaking as he waved everyone away. “We’re just having a conversation. Please go back to the party.”         

          “I’m not leaving until Cheyenne says everything’s okay,” Nyemah insisted, her hand balled into a fist and perched on her right hip.          

          I was unable to speak. Normally a scripture would come to mind to calm my spirit, but my thoughts were paralyzed. Kamille’s presence made me uneasy. Terrell grabbed my arm. “Sweetheart, please tell them that we’re okay.”         

          But everything’s not okay,I said to myself. The look on Kamille’s troubled face was proof of that. I snatched my arm away and slowly turned around. “It’s okay, Ny. I’ll be all right,” I lied. The crowd backed away gradually at Nyemah’s command, many shaking their heads and whispering to one another as they left.          

          Terrell was nervous. When he and Kamille were caught many years ago, they had barely escaped a lashing. Kamille’s track and field skills had kicked in and she jumped out of Terrell’s bedroom window when my teammates charged after her. Frightened, Terrell had locked himself in the bathroom. Although I was older and a leader in the church, I still wanted to give both of them an old-fashioned beat down.         

          God give me strength, I silently moaned. There was no telling what I was about to hear. Staring my husband directly in his eyes, I asked, “Now that you’ve managed to embarrass me, do you want to fill me in?”

          Terrell looked at Kamille and then back at me. I was becoming more furious as the seconds passed, but I had to be careful. People were watching from inside the house. Every inch of me wanted to curse him, but I couldn’t let my actions jeopardize my character. “I think we should go home and talk,” he finally said.         

          Kamille dropped her arms, “Oh no! You’re not getting off this easy again.”         

          “Can you please just be quiet for once?” Terrell yelled at her.         

          “This affects all of us. You can’t exclude me anymore, Terry,” she shouted back.         

          “Just tell me what’s going on!” I screamed at the top of my lungs and immediately prayed for forgiveness. I had always prided myself in being controlled in high-stressed situations. This was truly testing my patience.         

          Terrell was startled, but lowered his head and whispered, “Kamille and I have a son.”

          For a moment I felt like an actress in a Hollywood film. But there was no director off to the side with a bullhorn ready to shout, “Cut!” This was real life and this scene was really happening to me. All of a sudden my legs felt like they had turned into putty, and if Terrell hadn’t caught me I would’ve fallen onto the concrete.

          “Babe, let me explain,” he begged as I struggled to free myself from his grasp.         

          “What’s there to explain?” Kamille demanded. “I think you summed it up perfectly.”         

          “That’s enough, Kamille,” Terrell urged.         

          “Just take me home,” I demanded and headed for the car. I didn’t want to hear anymore; at least not in the driveway of Angie’s suburban home.         

          “For the record, Cheyenne,” Kamille started to explain in the sarcastic tone I despised, “I wanted to tell you from the very beginning.”         

          I pushed past her and walked across the street to our Ford Explorer. I couldn’t believe Terrell was a father. I yanked the handle on the door rapidly several times in a row as if the force I applied would cause it to open. For fear that I would break the handle, Terrell used the alarm on his key ring to unlock the doors. I jumped in the truck, trying to fight back my tears. How was I going to explain his illegitimate child to my church family? My life, which included my husband, was supposed to be an example for the youth to follow.          

          The inside of the car was stuffy and I could barely breathe. I opened the passenger door just enough to let fresh air circulate, then leaned back. My sandals slid easily off my feet and I rubbed them together. This comforted me. The one thing I ask of the Lord, the thing I seek most, is to live in the house of the Lord all the days of my life. For he will hide me there when troubles come …         

          I repeated parts of Psalm 27 three times and Terrell and Kamille were still going back and forth. Impatient, I pressed the horn and did not let up until Terrell got the hint. He marched toward the car and Kamille trailed behind him, crying profusely and pulling on his arm. When it was clear he no longer wanted to be bothered, she let him loose. “I will call you tomorrow!” she stated loud enough for everyone to hear.