You’ve Got A Man

Something’s got ahold of me And it’s something I cannot see Something’s got a hold on me And it’s bothersome you see It messes with my mind Tells me I don’t measure up It tugs at my heart Makes me keep my head low Thinking no one will ever love me What’s this—that’s got ahold of me It’s something I cannot see I stay up late, and can’t sleep when I lie down I get up tired, ‘cause I fought with it all night long It’s taken away my joy, and stolen my song I eat when I’m not hungry; my smile has been replaced with a frown Something’s got ahold of me—and it’s pinning me down This thing has got me going—my decisions no longer sound I do what I feel—not what I want I speak and don’t think I hurt those I love This thing has got to go We can no longer cohabitate I need to come clean I need to be straight But how can you fight something you cannot see Something’s got ahold of me Chapter One  September 26 turned out to be a picture-perfect day. The temperature held steady at seventy-five degrees—with no humidity and just a tint of chill in the air. With eyes closed, that day easily could’ve been mistaken for the end of August. Summer mixed with just a cup of fall. Weather-wise, Lenda couldn’t have picked a better day to get together for dinner with the girls. Mentally, however, perhaps another day would have been better. Sandwiched between the Detroit River and the towering Renaissance Center, the quaint, luxurious restaurant reeked of money, influence, and power. Lenda arrived at a quarter to six, which gave her plenty of time to park. She knew she’d be ahead of the other three, too. Walking from the parking structure to the restaurant, she caught a glimpse of the enviably peaceful water outside. Inside, fine china graced the white starched tablecloths. The black linen napkins made a stark contrast on the decorated tables. The table settings alone made most women feel like the princesses they had always longed to be. Lenda heard glasses clinking and waiters placing silverware on the tables. Given her day, it all sounded like a well-played symphony. She exhaled and thought: This is just what I needed, Lord. “Reservations for four under the name of Lenda,” she announced. “What time were your reservations for?” replied the hostess. “6:30 p.m.” “Our policy is not to seat a partial group. Please have a seat and let us know when all parties arrive.” Lenda heard her loud and clear. But she looked at the hostess’s name badge, put on the best smile she could muster, and began to speak in a voice that appeared calm but was a few minutes from explosive. “Angie, can you please allow for an exception this time? I really need to sit and gather my thoughts before my friends arrive,” Lenda asked. “I’d like to, but management…” “May I speak with management?” Lenda interrupted. “Just a moment…I’ll have to find the manager because I believe she stepped away,” smirked the hostess. “Do that, please,” Lenda asserted. Lenda felt borderline offensive, but she didn’t care. That day, just once, she wanted what she wanted! Knowing her friends, she knew she would have at least fifteen minutes to compose herself. And she needed every second of that and more. Lately, it seemed that everyone wanted a piece of her, and she felt that soon nothing of substance would be left. Why couldn’t people leave her alone? Her mother, her siblings, her ex, her co-workers, and yes—even the girls sometimes! The only person who truly gave her the space and unconditional love she so needed was her son, Matthew. Oh how she loved that boy! While Lenda waited for the manager, she realized she needed a vacation. That was the problem. All work and no play made Lenda a very touchy woman. But she knew she didn’t have any vacation funds, as she had lent all of her money to her mother for a lawyer to represent her brother—and he still went to jail. Family! She desperately wanted get away from them. Then as usual, the guilt came. She shamefully thought: How could I even think about them, especially Mom, like that? My mother has done so much for me; she can’t help it that she’s older and not aware of the demands that she puts on me. We can’t really talk about our relationship because she always takes what I say the wrong way, which forces me to keep quiet. Any relationship that constricts you from being honest is not healthy. You should be able to talk. By that time, Lenda was wondering where the hostess went. She could sense the panic button rising higher and higher. She focused again on all that had been going on: bills ate up her checks, and family buzzards had devoured her nest egg. When she reflected on how her savings had dwindled to almost nothing, she could hardly keep it together. Then, the divorce weighed in. It, too, had really drained her financially. She could never share any of this with the girls. They’d never suspect anything anyway. Still, Lenda wished she had enough courage to tell her best friends all about it. She quickly shoved that thought aside. Meanwhile, Lenda didn’t even hear the manager approach her about the table. “Ma’am, I’m Heather Green, manager on staff,” she said. As she snapped out of her daze, she couldn’t help staring. This woman looked more like a model than a manager, which made Lenda feel a little self-conscious. And she felt like an idiot just standing there. Somehow, she managed to start talking and explained her case again. To her surprise, the manager treated her like the Queen of England, quickly insisting that she be moved to the best table in the house.