Always, Now and Forever Love Hurts Read online

  Always, Now and Forever

  Love Hurts

  Shelia E. Lipsey

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2011 Shelia E. Lipsey

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to www.smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To All Who Have Walked In My Shoes

  Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will joy in the God of my salvation. The LORD God is my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds' feet, and he will make me to walk upon mine high places.

  Habakkuk 3:17-19 (KJV)

  Acknowledgements

  To all those who have supported me on my literary journey, thank you for making it possible for me to live my dreams now. This book, Always, Now and Forever Love Hurts is actually my very first book, originally written and published in 2000. It is an independently published novel that has been out of print for over six years.

  It was a desire of my heart to resurrect it and present it to those of you who never read it. It will always remain my baby because this book was used to provide hope and healing in my life after being severely abused by the men that I allowed to come into my life. Thank you, God for your healing!

  To all those who suffer from low self-esteem, issues with low self-consciousness, and just plain ole feeling like you are not good enough, this book is for you. You are beautiful just the way you are. I had to learn this hard, yet valuable lesson.

  All the years I spent not loving ME proved to make me who I am today, if that makes sense. I have refined like pure gold. I have been through the fire, and though I got burned along the way, I was not destroyed. I have come out stronger. Now, I know how special I am. I love Myself and it feels awesome!

  I would not trade my journey for anything, because then I would not be able to let you know that your life is worth living. You are fearfully and wonderfully made! You are beautiful! Love yourself. Forgive yourself.

  To single mothers, single fathers, hurt mothers, hurt fathers, and hurting people all over the world – this book is for you. It is not about falling in love, or having someone to fall in love with you. It is about falling in love with yourself because only then can you recognize true love, and accept it into your life.

  Be prepared to receive the best life has to offer because joy is right around the corner! I guarantee it.

  Never can I go without giving God the glory for all of the great things He has done, is doing and will do in my life.

  CHAPTER 1

  The definition of pain that described Clarye so well, or so she had come to believe, was the one in the dictionary: Subject to the penalty of some specified punishment, as death. However, she knew very well its true meaning. She described it as a tragedy, a crafty, evil attacker and foe.

  “Pain intentionally robs a person of happiness, whatever happiness is,” Clarye said to her best friend Ada, with a tinge of sadness embedded in her chestnut brown eyes.

  “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that, Clarye. We all have experienced some kind of pain in our lives. It’s part of living, and there’s no way around it.”

  “I know that, but it’s different for me. I’ve become accustomed to pain as being a part of my life. You know what I mean, even if you may not totally understand where I’m coming from.”

  In her own unique way, Clarye had actually come to claim pain as her one, true and constant friend. She believed pain exhibited itself in her life through physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual means. She seemed to cling to, and understood fully, its meaning of specified punishment because it was precise and exact in her life.

  At the tender and helpless age of eighteen months, when most toddlers were probably getting on Momma’s last nerves, Clarye’s heart was literally sliced open like a watermelon being cut on a steamy, hot day. Her mother was told by doctors that her youngest of four daughters had an irregular heart rate, and would need open heart surgery.

  Maybe Clarye was far too young to remember the surgery, but it was still the catalyst that she blamed for introducing her to both physical and emotional pain in her life. The signs of imperfection were successfully removed from her heart and from that point forward, her mother was told that she would lead a normal, active and productive life. However, that lasted for only six months because at the age of two years old, Clarye contracted the paralyzing, highly contagious disease known as poliomyelitis, or polio.

  Polio took hostage of her weakened immune system. It staged a vicious, painful attack on her nervous system, paralyzing her already weak and feeble body. This was the beginning of Clarye’s friendship and camaraderie with Pain that was to last a lifetime.

  CHAPTER 2

  As she began living her life with polio, Clarye slowly came to the realization that she was not normal. Oh, yes, she assumed that she was indeed, but others quickly let her know that she was different, out of the norm. Her playmates constantly taunted and teased her. Clarye sometimes sat in her room all alone, thinking about the vicious, cruel names she was given by boys and girls who called themselves her friends. The stares and name calling at school were endless. Names like Crip, and Kryptonite still resounded so loudly in her ears and in her mind.

  Maybe Clarye’s childhood would have been better if the tormenting had stopped during her younger years, but unfortunately that did not happen. By the time she became an adult, she was a defenseless victim who was still subjected to glares, stares, rude comments and questions from other curious but insensitive adults about her physical deformities. Her “skinny legs,” noticeable limp, and braces she wore from her neck to her toes certainly placed her in an unpleasant spotlight.

  Having a disability or physical impairment or being physically challenged, or handicapped, or crippled, or disabled, or whatever term people choose to use, made Clarye fight to prove that she was just as normal as the next person walking around.

  She was constantly telling herself that she had to be smarter, brighter, more articulate, more outgoing, the best, better than the rest in all that she sought to do in her world. Being female, or a woman, or a lady, or a mother, or a sister, or a friend, or black, or whatever, Clarye was still “handicapped.” It was not one of those disabilities that could be safely tucked away and there was definitely no way she could hide it under the rug away from the world.

  Clarye developed a strong will and a very real sense of determination that she utilized to the fullest extent as she became accustomed to the world and all of its imperfections. She was determined to make her life a simple sort of normal, everyday Jane life in spite of surmounting obstacles already present in her world. But it appeared her life was destined to be one of heartache, sorrow and pain.

  Clarye carried the emotional scars of her physical impairment into her everyday existence. She had numerous relationships with men throughout her life. Ironically, all of them were abusive physically and emotio
nally. Her two sons, Eric and Jeremy, who were now young men, had seen her through each of her destructive relationships. They were her rock of Gibraltar, the only thing constant in her life, the only men who loved her for her. Even though Clarye had developed a strong will, she continued to have a huge case of low self esteem. Her days were like a rollercoaster ride. Up and down Clarye rode the ride of depression brought on by her polio and also by the lowlife men she always seemed to attract. Each time she found a way out of the abuse, another devastating relationship was waiting to pick up where the previous one had left off.

  Despite this, Clarye was an independent, hard working, God fearing woman and mother. She and her three older sisters had been taught early in life about God. Every Sunday morning her parents and sisters attended the small, wooden neighborhood church located within easy walking distance from where they lived. Every Sunday night they had to go to Bible Training Union class where they learned all about being “good Christians.”

  Clarye and her sisters became accustomed to spending their so called recreational time at church. They knew all about that bad, ugly word called sin. Of course, what church child didn’t know that playing cards on Sunday was Sin; cussing on Sunday, a Big Sin; cussing on Sunday on the church parking lot, an oohwee, you’re going to hell Sin; telling a lie on a Sunday, a Sin; kissing a boy equaled an oohwee Sin; Letting a boy feel on your body, oooh oohwee you so nasty Big Sin. Getting pregnant but not married, a BIG BIG, you sho nuf going to hell now SIN. The list of “understood sins” seemed endless.

  After listening Sunday after Sunday, Clarye asked Jesus to come and live in her heart when she was a little girl of eight. She remembered how much she looked forward to going to church that Sunday morning.

  “Momma, I’m going to join church today,” she said with excitement ringing through her voice.

  “Do you know why you want to join church, sweetheart?” her mother asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. ’Cause I want Jesus to come and live in my heart forever and ever.”

  “That’s good, Clarye” her mother said proudly. “I’m so proud of my little girl.” She kissed Clarye on the cheek and hugged her tightly.

  When the preacher baptized Clarye, she came up feeling like a different little girl. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew there was something different about her. She imagined that this was what the old folks felt like when they went around the church hollering, “Amen, Thank you Jesus, and Praise the Lord. Clarye felt really, really good inside. She was going to heaven. She decided that she would always be a good girl, and live all of her life for Jesus.

  But even though Clarye had been taught about the devil and his trickery and that bad word, sin, she would find out that her life would still be full of little sins, oohwee sins and even big sins, no matter how hard she didn’t want it to be. She would also find out that she wasn’t always going to walk the walk of a “saint” nor talk the talk of one either. No, sirree. Not by a long shot.

  Clarye loved her sons, Eric and Jeremy with all of her heart. Eric, who was 25 years old had given her a grandson, who was the center of her life.

  When Eric was 17 years old, he became intimately involved with a pretty, young girl named Sandy. Her brother, Gary was a crazed, evil, abusive maniac and Clarye’s relationship with him was how Eric and Sandy met.

  Eric and Sandy were babies themselves in Clarye’s eyes when Sandy became pregnant with EJ. Nonetheless, EJ was a continuation of the love that Eric, Jeremy and Clarye always shared. He had been living with them since he was an infant. EJ was the only positive thing Clarye could say she received out of all her abusive relationships. She was, however, ashamed of the fact that she had led Eric to become involved in such an abusive family.

  Sandy suffered the same abuse Clarye did at the hands of her very own family as well, only the repercussion of hers was far worse. Sandy lived in a perpetual nightmare. Not only did she have Gary as an abusive brother, but also her entire family structure was built on evil and violence. When EJ was three years old, Sandy was murdered by another one of her younger, evil and violent brothers. She was a loving, young, sweet 20 year old whose love for EJ was of such depth that she had given him to Eric to raise and protect from the violence that was a daily part of her family and her life. But that is another story.

  CHAPTER 3

  Clarye attended school in a middle class neighborhood, complete with other black folks who were living their part of the all American dream. Most of their neighbors were disabled veterans of World War II, school teachers and preachers. She was fortunate that she had not been forced to attend the School for Crippled Children.

  Clarye’s mom was a strong, black woman who fought tooth and nail with the system to have Clarye placed in the regular public school system. She told the school administrators that just because Clarye had a physical disability that she should not be set apart from other kids who did not have disabilities.

  ”There is nothing wrong with my little girl’s mind,” she said emphatically. “I refuse to allow you to place her in a school with mentally retarded children just because she has to use crutches and braces.”

  Clarye’s mother, Ann, was always fighting for her rights and the rights of her daughter. She worked as a maid scrubbing floors at the local library and cleaning up behind other people’s mess. Clarye loved her mother deeply and admired how she never backed down to anyone.

  She never failed to tell Clarye, “You can do anything that anyone else can do, Clarye. I want you to learn how to be independent. Remember, that whatever it is you want in life, you can go for it and achieve it.”

  Clarye had grown accustomed to spending long, lonely, agonizing months in and out of hospitals. Though a thousand footsteps clicked clacked up and down tile covered hospital corridors everyday, Clarye could always instantly recognize her dear mother’s footsteps.

  Clarye’s sisters, Vivian and Vita, were fraternal twins and her oldest sibling was Sharen. Vivian was a veterinarian in the state of Washington. She lived a quiet, uneventful life surrounded by her dog, Bucky. Vivian had always removed herself far away from her family as possible. Even when she first ventured out on her own, she made sure she got an apartment on the other side of town. When Clarye was older, she began to wonder why Vivian did this. She believed perhaps that it was because Vivian wanted to remove herself from the everyday problems, troubles and happenings of her family. But what could possibly be so bad that Vivian didn’t want to be close to her family? That was something none of them ever came to understand, only accepted.

  Vita owned her own little gift shop in Memphis. She had always been the creative one. She never held a full time job for any length of time but made her money making “things” like embroidered T shirts, gift baskets, and trinkets. When she started receiving orders from all over the city, she decided it was time she made her side money making hobby into a full fledged business. She was really doing well for herself. Vita was the only sister other than Clarye who had children. She had one daughter, Denise, who was three months older than Clarye’s son, Eric. Denise had two small sons of her own. Vita had been married to a rather simple man, who didn’t say very much to anyone. He had died several years back from kidney failure.

  Her eldest sister, Sara, was the Vice President of Sales for a leading fitness corporation. She had worked her way up from an assembly line person to Vice President. She lived alone on the outskirts of the city. Sara’s home was immaculate. She had never been married nor had children of her own. Clarye had come to the conclusion that the reason Sara worked long, tiring hours was because she was all alone. She used the hours to fill up her days. She was also involved in various groups in her church.

  Nevertheless, they had done well in their lives. Each of them had been raised to believe in God, and though they strayed away from time to time, all the girls never forgot the teachings of their parents and never forsook attending church on a regular basis. However, there was one more thing the four of them had in common. They never were
able to establish loving, lasting relationships with men. Clarye never understood why each of them seemed to fail in that department. Her mother and father had been married over 40 years before he died in his sleep of a heart attack. She often thought there was some kind of curse placed on their family. But of course, she never really found out what the deal was.

  Clarye attracted friends quickly. As she grew into adolescence and entered high school, she realized more and more that she was different. It was the early 70’s, and most if not all of her friends either had boyfriends or had their eyes on one at some time or another. She would see the guys passing her friends by in the school corridors, giving them light taps on the shoulder, or winking their eyes, or just saying “Hi” in one of those I like you kind of voices. But none of the guys seemed to notice that Clarye was even alive.

  She longed to be like the other girls, to have a boyfriend or even just one who would take an interest in her. She didn’t want them to look at her because she was crippled or stare at he because she walked with a limp. She wanted the boys to notice her for her and not focus on her scrawny, deformed legs.

  In 1970, during Clarye’s sophomore year at Tremont High, her dream came true. She met Michael. Michael was a tall, light skinned, slender built boy of 16. He lived four doors down from Clarye in their modest neighborhood.

  Clarye often saw him on his route delivering groceries to the people who lived in the neighborhood. He would sail down the street on the red bike the Mom and Pop Chinaman store provided. Occasionally, he stopped to talk to Clarye. Soon they became friends. When Michael would see her at school, they would speak to each other. Sometimes they found a few minutes for idle conversation. Clarye began to like Michael as more than just a friend. She wanted him to be her boyfriend.