Deceit and Devotion

by RM Johnson

  “They took me,” Caleb said, his voice low. “There was another man who owed them. They killed him, right in front of me. Me getting them back what I owed wasn’t a question.”

  Sonya moved closer to Caleb, stopped just in front of him. He could tell she saw the pain and shame in his eyes. She touched his face, laid her palm to his cheek.

  “That’s what you were saying you did for us, borrowing the money?” Sonya asked.

  “I love you, Sonya.”

  “Don’t ever do that again,” Sonya said, softly.

  “I love my family.”

  “Shhh,” Sonya said, touching a finger to Caleb’s lips.

  “I’ll do anything for you and Jahlil. I just wanna come—”

  Sonya leaned forward, pressed her mouth to his, and quieted him with her kiss.

  Caleb lay in Sonya’s arms, in their bedroom, after making love. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It read 7:06 p.m. He lay his head back against Sonya’s breast, regretting the fact he’d have to go clean Austin’s offices soon. “Have you talked to Jahlil? Is he still mad at me?”

  “I left before he woke up this morning, so I haven’t spoken to him yet,” Sonya said. “But you know how he is. He won’t be mad for long.”

  “I hope so,” Caleb said. He was afraid to mention what was on his mind for fear of rejection, but he needed to know where he stood in all of this. “Is there a chance … a chance that I can come home?”

  “Caleb …”

  “Sonya,” Caleb said, rolling over so he could look directly into her eyes. “Do you see what’s happening? I’m not gonna just sit here and lose our son. I’m his father, and my place should be in this house so we can be a family again. Can we at least try?”

  Sonya lay her head back, closed her eyes, and sighed. When she looked back up at Caleb, she said, “We can try.”

  Caleb kissed Sonya and got out of bed. He grabbed his work pants from the floor, slid them on, and pulled out his cell phone.

  “Going to work?” she asked.

  “Don’t want to, but I gotta,” Caleb said, punching numbers into his phone.

  Sonya climbed out of bed, covering herself with her bathrobe. “Let me make you something to eat before you go. Who you calling?”

  “Jahlil. I think it’s time that all of us sit down and talk.”

  A knock came at the front door.

  “That’s probably him,” Sonya said.

  “Why would he knock?” Caleb walked into the front room, Sonya following behind him.

  Caleb pressed his face to the door, looked out the peephole, then turned to Sonya. “It’s one of Jahlil’s friends.”

  He opened the door. The boy Caleb believed the kids called Bug was standing in the doorway, holding his cell phone. He looked Caleb in the eyes, then around at Sonya standing just behind him.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Harris,” Bug said. “I don’t wanna be a snitch, but there’s something I need to show you.”

  86

  Do you respect me, or do you think I’m a fool?” Monica asked Tabatha. She had driven over to Tabatha’s house after her meeting with Daphanie. She was standing on Daphanie’s front porch. “And I need you to be honest with me, Tab.”

  “Uh, can I at least get a hello?” Tabatha said, holding the door open and stepping aside to let Monica in.

  Monica paced two lines across the living room carpet and wound up standing in front of Tabatha again. “Everything I went through with Nate, the years I was married to him, what he’s done to me, what I let him get away with—you think I’m a fool, don’t you?”

  “Monica, no. Why would I think that? Nate was your husband. In marriages things happen that—”

  “That I shouldn’t have let happen,” Monica finished.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “If your husband had slept with his secretary, had set up that whole scheme just to get you to divorce him, would you have taken him back like I did Nate?”

  Tabatha frowned, shook her head. “Girl, the moment I found out he was taking pills to make himself impotent on purpose so he couldn’t make love to me, I would’ve divorced his ass and he would’ve never seen me again.”

  “You would’ve?” Monica said.

  Tabatha nodded her head.

  “See.”

  “That doesn’t make you a fool, and you know I respect you.”

  Monica walked into the hallway and stood before the full-length mirror, staring at herself.

  “Did you hear what I said?” Tabatha asked.

  “All that he’s done, how does he always come out so clean, when everyone else is left covered in it? You should’ve heard her, Tab.”

  “Heard who?” Tabatha said, walking over to Monica, standing behind her in the mirror.

  “I met Daphanie,” Monica said, stepping very close to the mirror, staring at herself, speaking slowly as though falling into a trance. “She was pathetic and miserable, kind of like I am now. It’s all because of Nate.” Monica parted her hair where she’d had her surgery. When she turned her head just so, she could see a lot of the scar. It sickened her, but it would be with her the rest of her life, reminding her that she almost died for that man and he cared nothing about that. “But at least Daphanie is angry enough, woman enough to want to go after him.”

  “What are you talking about?” Tabatha said, worry in her voice. She took Monica by the shoulders, turned her so they were face to face. “Snap out of it, okay? You’re starting to freak me out.”

  “If my life were a book, every woman who read it would think I was fucking pathetic. That I am a pushover, a coward, and not woman enough to stand up and get that motherfucker back for all he’s done to me.”

  “No, they wouldn’t.”

  “Yes, they would! I would think the same thing,” Monica said, brushing Tabatha’s hands off her. “I’m tired of feeling this way. I’m tired,” Monica said, walking over to the sofa, grabbing her purse, and heading for the front door. “It’s about time something is done.”

  “Monica,” Tabatha called, but Monica continued toward the door, only stopping when Tabatha yelled her name again at the top of her lungs. “Monica!”

  Monica halted, her fist around the doorknob.

  “I don’t know exactly what you’re thinking,” Tabatha said, “but it sounds like some revenge shit. Stay away from Nate. I think you’re forgetting you almost lost your life dealing with that fool.”

  “No,” Monica said, “I haven’t forgotten. I think about it every day.”

  87

  Austin sat at home in the dark living room, in front of the television. It was on, but instead of watching it, he stared at the clock on the cable box.

  He wished that Marcus had not moved back home, or that Caleb was around. He would have someone to talk to about this, but then again, he figured he was better off alone. They wouldn’t see the fool he was making of himself.

  The clock read 10:30 p.m. Austin picked up his cell phone again from the sofa seat cushion next to him.

  He punched the number for the recent call list and pressed Dial, since Monica’s number was the last one he had called. Actually, the last six calls had been to her number.

  They’d started a little more than two hours ago, while Austin sat alone at the table in the restaurant, where he was supposed to have met Monica.

  It was the best table in the house, the table Austin secured by pressing a fifty-dollar bill in the hand of the host when he entered. A bottle of the restaurant’s finest wine sat chilling in the center of the table, along with a single candle Austin had gotten sick of staring at by twenty-five minutes after the time Monica was supposed to have arrived.

  That’s when he called her the first time. She didn’t pick up.

  Austin left a message, hoping nothing had happened to her.

  After another half hour and another four unanswered phone calls, Austin requested and paid the check.

  Outside, while he waited for the valet to retrieve his car, he stood on the s
idewalk, still hopeful, still looking for Monica’s Jaguar. It never showed.

  He drove home, took off his jacket after stepping in the door, and without bothering to turn on the lights, he sought out a bottle of liquor.

  Now sitting in the dark room, he poured himself a third or fourth shot. He had lost count.

  He had been stood up. There was no other explanation. As he lifted the shot glass to his lips, he wanted to hate Monica. He wanted to tell himself he wouldn’t spend another moment thinking about her.

  The doorbell rang. Austin knew who it was.

  He got up, answered it, left the door open, and walked back to the sofa.

  Monica walked in wearing jeans, sandals, and a knit top, which told Austin she never had planned to meet him for dinner tonight.

  “Why are you sitting alone here in the dark? Don’t you wanna turn on some—” Monica said, reaching for the switch on the wall.

  “Don’t,” Austin said, sitting down. “Why did you stand me up?”

  Monica walked further into the living room and had a seat across from Austin. She appeared uncomfortable with what she was about to say.

  “There’s something on my mind.”

  “And what better way to express that than to be a no-show,” Austin said, pouring himself another drink. He looked up at Monica. “Want one?”

  “No, and I wish you wouldn’t have another.”

  Austin chuckled, then drank half the glass. “Now you’re trying to tell me what to do.” He set the glass down. “I care for you.”

  Monica looked as though his admission pained her.

  “I don’t want to end things,” Austin said. “That’s why you’re here, right, to tell me that you wanna end it?”

  “Yes, I guess,” Monica said, as if ashamed.

  “And what if I said you couldn’t? What if I said I won’t let you?”

  “Then I’d say you don’t have that kind of power over me, and I’m ending it regardless.”

  Austin closed his eyes and sighed. Opening them, he said, “So what’s wrong with me?”

  “It’s not you, it’s—”

  “Don’t give me that ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ shit,” Austin said. “I pushed too hard? I wanted it too much? What?”

  “Yes. I guess.”

  Austin traced the rim of the shot glass with his finger. “I won’t apologize for that. I’m a good man. If you were a good woman, not just some … bitch who toys with men’s emotions, you would realize that.”

  There was silence, and a somewhat surprised look from Monica.

  “I’m sorry,” Austin apologized. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just—”

  “No need,” Monica said, standing up, walking over and sitting down beside him. “I know you didn’t mean it, and I know you’re a wonderful man, a man I would be honored to call mine. I’m just not ready to start a new relationship without working some things out first. Do you understand?”

  “It’s him, isn’t it? Your ex-husband, that bastard, Nate Kenny. You’re still in love with him.”

  “I’m not.”

  “But he’s one of the things you have to work out, right?”

  “Austin, I wish I could tell you everything, but it’s complicated.”

  Austin sat on the edge of the couch, looking away from Monica.

  She slid off the sofa and knelt in front of him, so he’d have no choice but to acknowledge her. She parted his knees, pushed between them, and stared him directly in the eyes. “I promise, if I were fully available, fully able to give myself to you, I would do it. God knows, with the horrible luck I have with men, I would be a fool not to.”

  Austin stared back into Monica’s eyes, as if searching for the truth. “Okay, fine. But once you work those things out, will you promise to give me a call, check to see if I’m still available?”

  Monica laughed, and despite the pain he was feeling, Austin could not help but laugh a little too.

  “You’re so cute,” Monica said. “Now I’m wondering if I’m making the right decision.”

  “You aren’t,” Austin said, standing, taking her hand and helping her up. “But I understand, and I appreciate you being honest with me.”

  Austin walked Monica outside to the porch, gave her a hug, and said, “Good-bye, Monica.”

  Monica smiled sadly and said, “Why don’t we just say so long for now.”

  “Okay. So long for now.”

  88

  The first thing they did was call the hospital to speak to Shaun. Caleb asked if his son was there.

  “No,” Shaun said.

  “Do you know where he is? And don’t lie, this is important.”

  “No, sir,” Shaun said. “I promise.”

  After that, Caleb and Bug drove around the high school, around the mall parking lot, and to the neighborhood basketball courts. They got out of Caleb’s van and asked some of the boys shooting hoops if they had seen a boy fitting Jahlil’s description. All of them shook their heads. No one knew where he was.

  Back inside the van, Caleb turned to Bug. “Is there anywhere else you think he’d be? Anywhere?”

  “I’m telling you, Mr. Harris, I took you everywhere I can think of.”

  Caleb struck the steering wheel angrily and forced himself to calm down. He thought a moment, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed the man he had met at the DCFS office.

  Lewis answered the phone. “Sorry to be bothering you like this, but I’m wondering if my son is with you,” Caleb said.

  “No,” Lewis said, sensing the concern in Caleb’s voice. “But I was just about to call you with some good news I had for Jahlil.”

  “That’s gonna have to wait,” Caleb said. “He’s in trouble. I’ve been driving around looking for him. I’m wondering if you know of anywhere he might be.”

  “I’m sorry, he—” Lewis paused suddenly. “Hold it! There was a place. A park by this apartment complex he wanted to move to.”

  “A park?” Caleb said.

  “Yeah,” Lewis said. “It’s just outside of Beverly, over by—”

  “The apartments near the park,” Bug said. “I forgot about that place. But I know where it is. I can show you, Mr. Harris.”

  “Did you hear that?” Caleb said into the phone. “Jahlil’s friend is gonna show me where it is. We’re going over there right now.”

  “Can I meet you there?” Lewis said. “Maybe I can help out somehow.”

  “Fine. We’ll see you there.”

  Lewis had already arrived by the time Caleb got there. He was standing beside his SUV. Caleb and Bug got out of the van.

  “Is he here?” Caleb asked, looking around.

  “I think so. I walked up the hill some and saw someone sitting on a bench with his back to me. It looked like Jahlil, but I didn’t know what to say to him. He’s probably mad at me for telling you about what he told me, so I decided to just wait. I didn’t wanna make things worse.”

  “Good,” Caleb said. “Which way did you say he was?”

  Lewis led Caleb and Bug up the hill toward the park. After a minute, the boy sitting with his back to them came into sight. He was sitting on a bench, with his head down. An overhead park lamp cast light down on him.

  “I think it’s him,” Lewis said.

  “It is,” Caleb said, saddened.

  Caleb, Lewis, and Bug continued walking till they were twenty feet behind Jahlil. Jahlil suddenly spun around on the bench, whirling his gun in front of him, pointing it at his father, his friend, and Lewis.

  “Whoa,” Caleb said, holding both his hands out in front of him. “Son, son, son, what are you doing?”

  “What are you doing here?” Jahlil said.

  “I just wanna talk.”

  “You just beat the shit out of me like I’m not even your son. I don’t wanna talk to you.”

  “Jahlil, maybe—” Lewis started, but Jahlil said, “I don’t wanna talk to you either. You told him the stuff I told you to keep a secret. And you,” Jahlil said, pointing the gun
in Bug’s direction. “I know the only reason they here is because you told them. Tell me I ain’t right.”

  Bug didn’t say a word.

  “I ought to shoot your asses right now. All of you.”

  “Jahlil! Don’t talk like that,” Caleb said, taking a step forward, till he was stopped by his son redirecting the gun at him. Caleb froze.

  “I’m going to jail, ain’t I?” Jahlil said.

  “Jahlil—”

  “I haven’t done nothing right,” Jahlil said, more to himself than anyone else. He stared past the three people in front of him, the gun still pointed forward. “I haven’t done nothing right, and now I’m gonna go to jail so I won’t be able to do nothing right no more.” He paused for a long moment, a tear falling from his eye, then Jahlil took the gun and shoved the tip of the barrel under his chin.

  “No, Jahlil! No!” Caleb rushed forward.

  Jahlil extended his free hand to stop his father. “I need to see Ma.”

  “Jahlil, please. We love you. Don’t do this!” Caleb said.

  “I need to see Ma!”

  “She’s not here. She’s at home.”

  “Then call her!” Jahlil ordered. “Or I’m gonna do this right now.”

  Caleb pulled his cell phone out, then turned to Lewis. “I need for you to take Bug and go.”

  “You sure? I could—”

  “I’m positive,” Caleb said. He turned to Bug. “You go with Lewis, okay? He’ll take you back to your car. I’m going to call Jahlil’s mother. But I just need for you and Lewis to go. I’m his father. I’ll take care of this.”

  89

  Lewis had dropped Bug off at his car twenty minutes ago, but now, as he walked into his house, he was still thinking about Jahlil, still beating himself up for not telling the boy earlier that he had been approved for the aid he needed. If he had known that, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten himself into whatever trouble he was in. Maybe he would’ve been saved from being locked up.

  Lewis closed the door, thinking that the only positive in this was that Jahlil was still a minor, wouldn’t be locked away for too long, and still had a chance to turn his life around. If Lewis had any say in the matter, he would be around when Jahlil was released, and he would help in every way he could to get the boy back on track.