by Stacey Torres

Created on: June 09, 2010   Last Updated: June 20, 2010

Before I had realized what I was doing

I had instinctively opened the front door

In response to the ringing bell

Like one of those trained dogs or rats.

Sudden shame and panic overtook me

As I realized I forgot I had invited

The members of the Women's Missions Group for lunch

To meet

Me, the pastor's new wife.

Too late, oh, damn, I'd opened the door

Too quickly, without thinking

And there was no way to hide the shiny rings

Of blue, black, purple, olive green and red

That surrounded my hazel eyes,

Swollen and bulging, and one stitched shut,

Or the thick red and black bruise around the edge

Of my hairline spreading from ear to ear

The lip five times larger than the one I owned

Yesterday

Split in three places

Covered in greasy salve that was melting

And burning like the ointment covering my stitched

And torn earlobe

That no longer held the beautiful pearl earring I wore

Yesterday

Or the fingerprints so clear, so defined

Imprinted around my graceful neck

That had held my head so proud

Yesterday.

They could not see the bandages and brace that

Held my ribs carefully in place as I moved ever so

Cautiously

But they could see the sling that cradled my

Left arm I tried to place discreetly behind the half

Opened door.

"What happened?"

Sister Hood whispered in horrified shock,

Her eyes glancing back to the members

Of the Women's Missions Group

Who carried pies and gifts of welcome to

Me, the pastor's new wife

Their faces visibly ashen, shaken, showing signs of hurt

Fear, disgust and accusation and oddly

Disdain for me.

They did not see the patches of

Thick, brown, coily, curly, tresses I prided myself with only

Yesterday

That were now missing, still lying in clumps

On the bedroom floor

Where he had yanked them out just before he

Tossed me to into the closet like a raggedy ass old

Sneaker that smelled of mud and grass and filth.

"I fell - I fell down the basement steps carrying the

Laundry ... I'm clumsy that way ..."

I cautiously look off towards the dining room

Where we all see him rise quickly from his breakfast

Dishes, push them aside, and scurry to his

Cozy little study

Where he will begin to prepare his sermon

For Sunday morning's Women's Day Service

In honor of

Me, the pastor's new wife.

I look at them, and they look at me

In silent understanding

They gracefully retreat back down the stoop

To the sidewalk

Carrying their pies and gifts of welcome for

Me, the pastor's new wife.

But wish me well

Their whispers and snickers

Loud and burning in my ears

As they frantically try to get away from

Me, the pastor's new wife.

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