by Daniel Black
“It’s true,” Cinderella susurrated. “Your eyes rolled and you collapsed right in the middle of the floor. Like to scare us to death.”
“All of us,” Elisha whispered.
Lizzie touched her father’s hand lightly. “You okay?” She knew Elisha, of course, but she didn’t know the others, and their presence intimidated her. Quad glanced between his father and his grandfather, amazed at the resemblance.
“These are my kids,” Lazarus huffed with his eyes closed. He was still unstable, but he wasn’t incoherent.
Legion smiled at them. “We’ve heard so much about you. Your daddy speaks of you all the time!” The Family nodded as if on cue.
Lizzie glanced at these unkempt indigents, jealous that they knew her father better than she did. Legion’s overbearing nature was off-putting, although e surely meant well. Most troubling was that, for the life of Lizzie, she couldn’t decide what e was. Quad didn’t try to hide his disdain. He wanted his father to tell the vagabonds to go away, but of course Lazarus wouldn’t. Quad had the feeling that something or someone had taken his rightful place in his father’s heart, and he didn’t like it. The Family sensed his contempt, yet only Legion confronted it.
“Not a day went by when your father didn’t mention you two. I feel like I know you already.”
Quad ignored em. Lizzie stared into the distance.
“Really! Every word out of his mouth was some story about Christmas with you guys or running around the house tickling you as you screamed! Sorta makes me wish I’d had a father like that when I was little.”
“You have him now,” Lizzie mumbled.
“But you had him then. That’s when you needed him most.”
Lizzie snapped, “Don’t tell me what I need. You don’t know nothin’ about what I need.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Legion retorted. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” Es hands lingered in the air. “I was just saying it must’ve been nice, having a daddy like that.”
“It was,” she sassed. “Until he left.”
“Well, nobody gets anybody all the time. Trust me. I know! I haven’t heard from or seen my folks since I was fifteen.”
Legion’s pain softened Lizzie’s response: “Well, maybe one day you will.”
All the while, The Comforter coached Lazarus back to reality: “Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth … slow, easy … take your time … feel your heartbeat.…”
Junior hadn’t said a word. He wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know anyone, really—his grandkids or the others—and the awkward feeling of being unwanted wouldn’t go away. But he’d come too far to leave, endured too much to turn around now. Plus, with just a few dollars in his pocket he had no way of getting home. The Comforter saw him and Lazarus glancing back and forth, each waiting for the other to speak.
“Let’s step over here, y’all,” she said, “and let these old Lazaruses get reacquainted. They have some catching up to do.”
Quad and Lizzie followed reluctantly. Anxious to know them, Cinderella clapped and skipped as everyone shuffled down the hallway. The Comforter began formal introductions, and, after a moment, tensions eased and small talk commenced. From the corners of their eyes everyone watched Lazarus II and III begin to mend what neither had broken.
Junior took the space Lizzie had occupied and said, “You did good, Son. Answering the lady’s questions.”
Lazarus mumbled, “Thanks.”
Both looked away. Court officials walked by without notice. Junior studied a fly on the opposite wall as Lazarus admired a strange man’s shiny brown shoes. “How’d you get here?”
Junior finally faced him. “Bus.”
“Who paid for it?”
“Does it matter?”
“Guess not.”
Lazarus hadn’t meant to start a fight. “I appreciate you coming. You look good.”
Junior half-smiled. “Do I? Look like I always looked to me.”
“No, definitely better.”
They offered identical smirks.
“How’d you know what happened?”
“Saw it on the news. Then your boy called.”
“I’m glad you’re here. I need you.”
“I’m glad you need me. You all I got.”
Lazarus extended his hand, and Junior grabbed it so hard Lazarus grimaced. Together they cried for the first time since Zeporah died. Each had dreamed of the other coming to find him, traversing states and seasons to reconnect the lineage of Lazaruses, but neither was free enough to do it. Now everything they felt, everything they hoped for, everything they needed, was within reach. Junior purred, “I’m sorry, boy! I’m just so sorry! I tried so hard! Forgive me. Lord knows I love ya! I meant to do better. I just couldn’t get it together. But I’m better now. And I’m here. They ain’t gon’ take you away from me, neither! They ain’t! We gon’ fight this every step of the way!” Simultaneously Lazarus murmured, “I love you, Daddy! I needed you so bad! I just couldn’t seem to help you! I’m sorry I gave up on you! I prayed for you every night! Thank you for coming when I needed you! But it’s so good to see you, Daddy. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about you! Sometimes I be mad at you ’cause I just want you to be healthy! But I ain’t never stopped lovin’ you!” Both Lazaruses looked up, and suddenly they embraced with enough strength to kill. Or heal. One might’ve thought they’d been torn apart a lifetime ago and only now found each other again. They quivered and sobbed like lost, frightened children. It was beautiful, The Comforter thought, watching broken spirits mend. They released and wiped tears hurriedly.
“I’m clean, Son. Finally. At least for now. It’s the best I can do.”
“You look good, Daddy. Real good.” Lazarus’s voice cracked. “Momma would be so proud.”
“You think so?” Junior’s mouth trembled and twisted.
“Yeah. I think so.” Lazarus paused. “I’m proud, too.”
“That’s all I ever wanted, boy. To make you and your momma proud. Guess I’ll have to settle for you now.” Junior patted Lazarus’s head.
“Guess you will.”
The Comforter smiled.
“I’m in a lotta trouble, Daddy. These people think I killed that woman, but I didn’t.”
“I know you didn’t. I raised you. I know what kinda man you are. But don’t worry. We’re gonna beat this.” He grabbed Lazarus’s shoulders harder than he intended. “You just gotta keep fightin’. That’s all. And trust in God.”
“God? When’d you start believin’ in God?”
“The day I needed something greater than myself. I wanted to get clean on my own, but I couldn’t. Everything I tried failed. I just wasn’t strong enough. That’s when I realized that God is the word for ‘help.’ That’s all. But it’s everything. I was too stupid to see it before, but I got it now. Got down so low I almost died, but thank God I didn’t.”
Lazarus couldn’t imagine the depth of his father’s agony, so instead he said, “We’ll help each other, Dad.”
“You already helped me. I ain’t forgot. It’s my turn now. That’s why I’m here.”
Lazarus nodded. “Thanks.”
“You can’t thank me. I’m your father.”
They hugged again.
“But can I give you a piece of advice?” Junior asked.
“Sure. I need all I can get.”
“Tell yo’ kids you love ’em. That’s all they wanna know. You can’t fix the past and you can’t make ’em see things yo’ way. Yeah, you made decisions for them, but they ain’t gon’ never see that. It’s just how things is. But really don’t none of that matter. What matters is if they believe you loved ’em. Whether you was there or not. A child can look past anything if he thinks you love him. That boy o’ yours told me what you did. I can’t judge you for that. It might’ve been the right thing to do. I don’t know. But that ain’t what he’s carryin’. What he’s carryin’ got to do with not believing you loved him. He thinks you chose the world over him, and h
e ain’t gon’ never be right till he hear the truth from you.”
“I didn’t choose the world over him, Dad! I was trying to show him and his sister that—”
“I know you didn’t. You wouldn’t. But that’s what’s in his heart. And you gotta work it out.”
Lazarus huffed.
“Every man’s gotta work it out. Children don’t never understand. Worst thing in the world you can do is leave this world without fixin’ yo’ children’s hearts. Don’t, and they’ll end up just like me.”
Lazarus understood. Granddaddy had left things undone with Junior—and Junior had never forgiven him for it.
“Quad! Lizzie!” he called. “Come here a minute please.”
Each waltzed with head hoisted high, looking back occasionally at the street bums who presumed to know their father but, in their estimation, didn’t. They were glad to leave the vagabonds behind.
Three Lazaruses and Lizzie formed a circle. Before Lazarus could speak, Junior cleared his throat and said, “Thank you two for getting me here. I don’t know what it cost and I don’t know who paid for it, but I know it wasn’t free.” Both siblings’ brows rose. “Y’all done a great thing, gettin’ me and your daddy back together. Probably wouldn’t never have happened without you.”
Shame and regret reddened Lazarus’s face.
“But here we are. And we family. Might not be the best one, but it’s the one we got. So we gotta make this work. Lotta stuff to talk about, but not right now. For now, we gotta focus on winning this case.”
The siblings waited. Lazarus tried to conceive something beautiful, something substantive, to say that might describe the contents of his heart, but nothing came.
“I wanna tell you two something,” he intoned, “and I don’t want you ever to forget it.”
Junior nodded. His eyes burned red.
“I may not have been the perfect father, but I always loved you. Always. I never stopped. And I never will. Even when I left, I thought of you every day. Most times I saw you at school or church or wherever and I hated not coming home to you. But I couldn’t. I knew there was another way to live—I felt it in my bones—and I had to find it. My spirit wouldn’t give me peace without it. You might understand that, you might not, but either way, I’ve always loved both of you. Everywhere I went I took your picture with me.” He extracted a worn wallet-size photo from his back pocket. “I thought I was showing you how to live. I didn’t want you to spend the rest of your lives doing what I had done. It ain’t worth it. I’m telling you it ain’t! I wanted to find something more than material things, something that kept my soul satisfied. I was dying in corporate America. Every day, bit by bit, life drained out of me. This probably sounds ridiculous now, but I know how it felt. If I had stayed there, I’d be dead by now. I’m sure of it. So I left before it killed me. But I had to leave the whole lifestyle—not just the job.”
“Are you sorry you left us, Daddy?” Lizzie asked.
Lazarus risked the truth. “I’m sorry it hurt you. That’s what I’m sorry about. But I’m not sorry for what I did, because I thought it was right. And I found what I was looking for.” No one asked what it was. “But the point is that I always loved you. When I look back, some of the variables don’t add up, but it all made sense then. I wanted to teach you how to see God. There’s nothing greater.” Lazarus shrugged as Junior nodded. “And now I’ve seen God.” Lazarus smiled at The Family clustered at the end of the hallway. “I know you might not understand, but all I wanted was to leave you a legacy no one could take from you. If that ain’t love, I don’t know what is.”
Nodding the while, Junior stood slightly behind Lazarus.
“And those people there?” Lazarus’s head bent toward The Family. “They my folks, too. I don’t love them more than you, but I love them just as much. They taught me how to live. I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world. And I wouldn’t trade you, either.”
Aaron emerged from the courtroom and reminded everyone that, as the judge had announced, the trial would resume in an hour. No one saw the glimpse he and Legion shared.
Lazarus summoned The Family and introduced them all over again: “This is … The Comforter.” She bowed gracefully and smiled. Quad and Lizzie nodded but extended no cordiality. Junior, however, had no inhibitions. He said, “Nice to meet you.” Only now did Lazarus acknowledge the strangeness of The Family’s names, but, refusing to be ashamed, he simply shrugged and continued, “This is Cinderella.” She reached a grimy hand toward Junior, who squeezed it lovingly; then she said, “I’ve heard so much about you and your daddy! Wish I had seen the lambs!” Junior cackled. She didn’t know what he knew, and this was not the time to tell her. “They were beautiful,” he said, “but that was Daddy’s project. I didn’t have nothin’ to do with them.” The Comforter interjected, “You will now. And you will forever.” Lazarus affirmed the declaration, easing the awkwardness of the moment. He continued, “This is Elisha.” The young man’s smile elicited Lizzie’s, exposing their familiarity and causing Legion to ask The Comforter, “They know each other?” She nodded. “Seems so.” To Junior, Elisha said very sweetly, “Grandpa.” The old man froze, captured by Elisha’s sincerity. Junior then grinned and said, “Okay, Son. I’m fine with that. I need all the family I can get.” Everyone laughed. “Finally,” Lazarus said, “this is Legion.” The others had hoped for a more specific identity, a gendered name perhaps to solve their enigma, but instead their confusion multiplied. Legion stepped forward, hands raised, and snapped twice like a runway diva. “In the flesh!” Quad’s eyes grew bulbous. Lizzie covered her mouth to keep from screaming. “How y’all doin!” Legion said, more as a proclamation than a question. Junior answered, “We doin’ all right! How you doin’?” Legion liked Junior’s unassuming nature, his willingness to embrace any soul. “I’m fine!” E twirled. “Can’t you tell?” Quad and Lizzie wondered where this thing—that’s how they thought of Legion—had come from, but everyone else giggled. Instantly, out of nowhere, e changed personae and said in a deep masculine voice, “It’s nice to meet all of you,” and gripped each hand. Quad, on the one hand, gaped. He wanted so badly to ask, What the hell are you?, but of course he couldn’t. The question felt inappropriate, and he knew his father would be offended. Lizzie, on the other hand, concluded that Legion was simply gay and couldn’t help it, but something about her designation felt incomplete. Junior ended the formalities with, “Good. This is good. You don’t never know who might help you. Some angels don’t come with wings.”
Lazarus asked everyone to hold hands and pray. No one spoke at first; then Junior looked up and Lazarus nodded toward him. Junior denied the request, shaking his head fiercely, but Lazarus insisted, mouthing, Please, Daddy?, so Junior began, “I don’t do a lotta prayin’, God. You know that. Most times I don’t know what to say. But today I need you to help my boy. You know the situation better’n we do, so whatever you can do will be appreciated. Bless everybody standin’ here, and might every heart be made whole. Amen.”
“Amen,” everyone repeated.
The group split in half. The Family migrated back to the end of the hallway and huddled around an iron bench. “Did that muthafucka roll his eyes at me?” Legion whispered, referring to Quad. “Oh, baby,” Cinderella pacified Legion. “He didn’t mean any harm, I’m sure.” She reached to touch Legion’s hand, but e jerked away. “Let that go,” The Comforter advised. “It has no power over you. You’re already free. Don’t reenter bondage.” Legion folded es arms and sulked. Elisha shuffled next to Legion and uttered faintly, “The blind cannot see.” Their shoulders touched, ever so slightly, and the smooth, easy temperament of one became the countenance of the other.
At the opposite end of the hallway, the Loves moped in silence until Quad said, “I’ll get us some lunch,” and hustled away.
Lizzie moved to follow, but Lazarus asked her to wait. Junior stepped aside.
“You were in the park that day, weren’t you?”
&nb
sp; They sat on a marble slate bench with no back. Lizzie looked away as if ashamed, then returned gentle eyes to her father’s. “Yes. I was there.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because there was nothing to say.”
“There’s always something to say.”
“Not when you don’t understand.”
Lazarus thought to beg for forgiveness, but he’d already done that. “Where are the kids? I’d love to see them.”
“They’re home. They don’t have any business in the middle of this.”
“Okay. But maybe when this is over?”
“Maybe. We’ll see.”
Lizzie’s heart was a petrified stone.
“I remember watching you from my bedroom window,” she said.
“I remember, too.”
“When Momma asked you to leave, I was mad at her. Imagine that!” Lizzie’s sarcasm pricked Lazarus’s heart. “In my mind, you weren’t there because she put you out—not because you chose to leave.”
“That’s true!”
“That’s not true, Daddy. Not completely. She did ask you to leave. She told me that years later. But you also chose to leave. I always knew that. She couldn’t have made you leave if you didn’t want to. It was your house! Momma wasn’t working! But”—Lizzie waved frantic hands—“whatever. The crazy thing is that it didn’t matter to me. I just wanted you. I didn’t care where you were.”
“Oh, Lizzie! I was trying to do something different! All the stuff I’d provided didn’t make us close as a family. That’s what I wanted. I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t figure it out. Then I saw it one morning. You were a little girl, but I’ll never forget it. I walked outside and saw the beauty of the world. The sky, the grass, the flowers … everything, and I started crying and didn’t know why. But I felt alive! I didn’t want anything in that house anymore. I didn’t care about the car, the furniture, paintings on the wall, bank accounts … nothing. All I wanted was my family and the world I had discovered. Of course it had always been there, but I hadn’t seen it. Closest I got was summers with Granddaddy, but so much happened after he died. Daddy spiraled downward, so I guess I forgot a lot of things.” He shrugged. “All I knew for sure was that I couldn’t live the way I’d been living.”