Nettie didn’t know what to think, much less say. So without another word, she stood and went in search of Mama Max. She wanted to avoid another confrontation, and after Mama Max finished talking to the doctor, Nettie suggested they go to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.
“He had three blocked arteries,” Mama Max said as they walked toward the cafeteria. “But the doctor said he’d make it. Obadiah’s going to pull through.”
“Praise the name of Jesus.”
“Bless His holy name.”
The two ladies were quiet until they got their cups of coffee. The room was fairly crowded for a Thursday afternoon, but they found a table near the back of the cafeteria. For a couple minutes, they sat quietly, sipping their coffee.
“Thanks for helping me back there,” Mama Max said finally. “Can’t help Obadiah none from a jail cell, and if I ever got to beating that woman, that’s where I’d be. I owe her more than forty years’ worth of ass whoppins, yes, Lord…would be a first-time convict at seventy.”
“Anyone would be upset,” Nettie offered. “But I know why she’s here.”
Mama Max looked up from her coffee cup.
“She went over to check on Reverend Doctor O. She said that the doctor told her five more minutes without medical attention and the reverend would have died.”
“So what does she want for that information, a thank-you? Probably her and Obadiah checking up on each other is what brought the attack on in the first place.”
Nettie didn’t have an answer for that comment. The ladies sipped their coffee in silence.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” Mama Max said. “I’m not going to keep on playing second fiddle to that woman. I’m going to help Obadiah out of this here emergency. After all, he is my husband, for what that’s worth, and I’d give this kind of help to a stranger. It’s the Christian thing to do. But as God is my witness, as soon as he’s back on his feet, he’s going to have to decide to be anonymous to me.”
Nettie frowned slightly. “You mean monogamous, Mama Max?”
“That too. I mean it, Nettie. If that man don’t convince me that an old dog can be taught new tricks, I’m going to click my heels three times and head back to Kansas—for good.”
46
The Best Defense
Carla sat quietly, enjoying a rare Saturday that was totally open to do with as she wished. There was nothing pressing regarding the job, her Sanctity of Sisterhood commitments, or her children. In fact, she had the house to herself, and that almost never happened. But Lavon felt she needed some quiet time, and after he’d begun their day with a lavish love dance involving multiple orgasms, he had offered to take the kids to the mall.
At first, Carla hadn’t known what to do with herself. But shortly after her family drove off, she drew a hot bubble bath, scented the water with vanilla cinnamon bath salts, put on a compilation jazz CD, and sank into the water. She’d stayed there for almost forty-five minutes, until the water had cooled and the jets had turned off. Then she’d come downstairs and made herself a vegetable omelet. Being able to cook for one instead of five was a treat unto itself. She’d taken the meal out to a deck she hadn’t enjoyed nearly enough of in the three years she and Lavon had lived in the home. It was nestled in an exclusive Woodland Hills community, and the view was beautiful. Even the weather cooperated. The valley could get extremely warm in the summertime, sometimes hitting triple digits. But this April day was perfect: gentle breeze, warm sun, and not a cloud in the sky. That’s where Carla still sat, a glass of chardonnay having replaced the orange juice she’d had with brunch.
While slowly sipping and savoring the taste of this rare glass of wine, Carla thought about Stan. It had been a week since Lavon had dropped his Stan-might-be-gay bomb, and Carla was still trying to figure out what to do with the news. At her request, Lavon had phoned his friend again and gotten more information about Bryce Covington as well as his friend’s promise not to spread what he’d seen. The friend assured Lavon that he was the only one who knew, and because of his respect for both Stan and Bryce, it would stay that way. He told Lavon that the man Bryce was openly squiring around town was an ex-model and businessman from LA named Ryan Westbrook. Lavon and Carla had Googled his name together, and from the looks of what was on the Internet, Ryan seemed quite successful. Carla knew one thing for sure: The brothah was fine! But, dang. Does he look good enough to turn a straight guy gay? And if not, how long has Stan been living with this secret? Carla concluded that she never really knew the man with whom she spent ten years. Was our marriage a lie? Was his love for me ever real at all?
Carla looked at her watch. Probably another hour or so before Lavon and the kids come back. She sat back, enjoyed the wine, and tried to let her mind go blank, to think of nothing at all except how blessed she was. Lavon was an amazing man, husband, father, and business partner. Her children were healthy, and fortunately for Brianna, she hadn’t acted out too badly when Carla demanded she change her MySpace pictures. Of course, the choice was either that or lose the computer, cell phone, and her freedom, but Carla had given her a choice. The show ratings were higher than ever, and Carla looked forward to helping Princess launch her literary career. That reminded her. She hadn’t talked to Tai. She walked in, retrieved her cordless phone, and walked back out on the deck.
“Girl, if this telephone tag was the real thing, I would have lost ten pounds by now. I know what busy feels like, though, hope you and your family are well. I’m pretty much doing nothing all day, so it’s a perfect one for catching up on my end. If you find some time, call me back.”
Carla ended the call and sat the phone on the wooden patio table. She picked it up, started to punch a set of numbers, set the phone down again. She was deep in contemplation as she finished her wine, picked up the phone, and punched in Stan’s home number. Please let Passion be home, because I don’t know if I’ll have the nerve to call again.
“Hello?”
“Passion, it’s Carla.”
“Hi, Carla. Stan’s not here. You might be able to catch him at the church, or if not, on his cell.”
“Actually, Passion, I’m calling for you.”
A slight hesitation. “Oh?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a change in the kids’ schedule? I know with summer coming, we’ll have to coordinate vacations along with everything else.”
“Yes.” Carla decided to ease into the reason for her call, instead of blurting what could be a revelation straight out. While the lack of love between these two women was no secret, they’d always strived for civil interactions. “How’s Onyx?”
“She’s doing fine, starting to get a smart mouth on her, though.”
“Ooh, sistah, you’d better nip that in the bud.”
“Tell me about it.”
Another pause. Carla and Passion remembered at the same time that at one point, theirs had been a truly cordial relationship. When Carla was Passion’s first lady, Passion used to help with the SOS conferences. Passion wasn’t one for having too many female friends; in fact, she had none. But there had been a time when Carla came as close to that for Passion as any woman ever had, besides a childhood friend who’d died several years ago. Do you even have friends? Passion remembered Stan asking her that in a heated moment. The truth of the matter was, she didn’t, and this simple, casual conversation with Carla made her realize that maybe she needed one.
“There’s another reason I called,” Carla spoke into the silence. “It involves a matter of a sensitive nature. I’d have suggested we meet in person, but I only have about an hour of free time before the kids come back.”
Passion’s curiosity was immediately piqued. “We can discuss whatever it is over the phone.”
“It’s about Stan.”
“What about Stan?”
“Passion, this is a bit difficult for me. What I’m about to share came to me as gossip at first, but Lavon has since verified the information.”
Passion’s curiosity
was quickly turning into something else. “What kind of information?” she demanded. “What information regarding Stan could possibly be any of Lavon’s business?”
Carla understood Passion’s anger, especially regarding Lavon’s involvement in what she was about to say. If Passion had had her way, Lavon would have been her husband, not Carla’s. So she chose to ignore Passion’s question and ask one of her own. “Does the name Bryce Covington mean anything to you?”
The question caused Passion’s heart to jump in her chest. She didn’t know why she reacted as she did, but a second later, another voice came into her head. If you do know what I’m talking about…you’ve been warned. “Yes,” Passion answered cautiously. “He’s a politician in Michigan.”
Lord, please let me be doing the right thing. “Has Stan been in Michigan recently, perhaps visiting Bryce?”
“Look, Carla, whatever you’ve heard, or whatever you’ve got to say, just spit it out. I don’t have time to play twenty questions. What have you heard about my husband?”
Carla took a deep breath, remembering a different time: when Stan was her husband and Passion had shared some information with him that had effectively ended their marriage. She prayed that would not be the case this time. “Stan might be gay.”
There it was, the ugly truth, pushing up against a gorgeous California afternoon. Even as Passion’s heart stopped, the world around her went on. She could still hear Onyx and her friend laughing in the den, could still hear KJLH playing a Stevie Wonder song on the stereo. A car went past the window she gazed out of, a neighbor walked her dog. But for Passion, the world had stopped. “What did you just say?”
Carla relayed an abbreviated story of what Lavon’s contact had shared with him. “I was as floored as you are,” she finished. “Not believing it for a second…at first. But according to Lavon’s friend in Michigan, who is the media director for the Cathedral, Bryce Covington is openly gay, so what he says he saw is not totally impossible.
“I started thinking about when Stan and I were married, Passion, about how challenging our…times of intimacy were. I don’t want to say too much here, and I definitely don’t want to get into your business, but—”
“I’ve experienced it too,” Passion said, cutting Carla off and surprising herself by blurting out the truth. “It has been difficult for Stan and I to connect intimately. There’s a wall there….”
Both women became silent again. Carla, suddenly warm, wiped away sweat. Passion wiped away tears.
“Stan and I have children together,” Carla continued. “For that reason alone, I’ll always care about him. And whether or not you believe this, Passion, I only wish the best for your marriage. Stanley is a good man, and if he’s battling something like this, he’ll need a good woman to help him through it. I believe you are that woman.”
Carla and Passion talked for an hour. Carla shared her experiences and what she knew of Stan, including the fact that he’d been molested as a child. She told Passion the name of the therapist who’d worked with them and suggested that perhaps continued therapy would allow Stan to admit to whatever was going on with him.
“Stan’s not gay,” Passion said as their conversation wound down. “I refuse to believe that.”
“You’re probably right,” Carla readily agreed. “It could have been that Bryce was simply coming on to Stan or that he and Bryce are just close friends, and their embrace was misinterpreted. But it bothered my spirit enough to call you, Passion. Again, there are kids involved here. I just think that the best defense is a good offense.”
“Thanks for calling, Carla.”
“You’re welcome, Passion. Let me know if I can do anything else to help. I mean that.”
Passion put down the phone and continued to stare out her bedroom window. She looked over at the king-sized bed, the beautiful sleigh that took up a large portion of the room. Her eyes rested on Stan’s dressing room. Will I find any more secrets if I go in there?
Passion sighed. As he’d promised, Stan was making more of an effort in their marriage. They’d made love last night, the second time in a month. For other couples, this would be starvation, but for Passion, it was a feast. And the biggest thing was, Stan had thrown away the panties. He’d told her that last night as well, after they’d made love and while they still held each other. He’d said he wanted to take a trip together, just the two of them, and reconnect. He was finally starting to sound like the husband she’d always wanted. It had been this way since…since Stan came back from Detroit, after resigning his position with the Cathedral board, a board on which Bryce Covington sat as well.
“Oh, God,” Passion whispered. “Oh, Jesus, please don’t let what Carla heard be true.” I just think the best defense is a good offense. Passion knew that Carla was right. Passion would not sit idly by while her husband suffered. If there was any truth to what Carla had heard, Passion was going to find out about it, and she was going to find out today.
47
Committed
Passion flinched when she heard the front door close. He’s home. She’d both anticipated and dreaded this moment since the conversation with Carla. Postponing her talk with Stan had also crossed her mind. But Passion felt that as uncomfortable and potentially explosive as this information was, she and Stan had to talk about it. The spread of AIDS was highest among African American women because of men on the down low. Passion wasn’t trying to go out like that. She had to know the truth.
“Hey, honey.” Stan greeted Passion, who was sitting in the living room. “Where are the kids?”
“They’re not coming over tonight. Onyx is with her father, so we have the evening all to ourselves.” Passion meant for the statement to sound casual, but it did not.
Stan was immediately suspicious of something going on. “How did that happen? Did they have something special to do with Carla? Was there an activity of theirs that we missed putting on our calendar?” Stan walked fully into the living room and stood over Passion, who was seated on a high-backed wing chair facing the large picture window. “What’s going on, Passion?”
This alone time was not starting out the way Passion intended. The last thing she wanted was Stan on the defensive. She tried to defuse the situation and shift the mood. “I’m actually happy we get this unexpected quiet time.” She stood, wrapped her arms around Stan, and placed her head on his shoulder. “How was your day?”
Stan did not return the hug. “It was fine until I came home ready to spend time with my children, only to find out they’re not here. I need to call Carla and let her know that this is not okay.” He dislodged himself from Passion’s embrace and headed to the phone.
“Wait, Stan. I’ve already talked to Carla. In fact…I asked her if the children could come tomorrow instead of today. I wanted to talk with you.”
Stan stared at Passion. He’d tried so hard these past few weeks to live up to her expectations, to be a more caring, loving husband. And this was the thanks he got? Passion rearranging his kids’ schedule to spend more time with him alone? “This is very selfish of you, Passion. I appreciate your wanting to spend time with me, but my children are with Carla five days a week and with me for two. Two!” Stan punched two lean, strong fingers in the air for emphasis. “And then without consulting me, you call my ex-wife and ask her to keep them yet another day? Whatever it is you want to talk about could have waited until Monday.” Stan cast a last, hard look at Passion before walking away.
“It’s about Bryce Covington,” Passion said to his retreating back.
Stan stopped in his tracks and whirled around. “What about Bryce?”
“Stan, can we sit down and talk calmly, rationally? I want to talk, not argue.”
Stan walked over to the other wingback chair in the room. A round coffee table holding a crystal vase filled with colored glass balls and blown glass flowers separated them. He sat down heavily and stared straight ahead.
You could cut the tension with a knife. Passion silently prayed, despe
rate for a different atmosphere in which to approach what she had at first guessed and now knew would be a volatile topic. “Stan, please, let me make some tea while you change clothes, get into something more comfortable. Are you hungry? I made some chicken turnovers that turned out really good, like handheld pot pies. I’d love to heat up a couple for you.”
Her voice was soft, pleading. Stan knew he was overreacting and tried to change his mood. After all, whatever Passion wanted to talk about where Bryce was concerned could be no less than speculation. Bryce was a popular public figure. Perhaps she’d heard of some scandal, or perhaps she found out that he and Ryan were more than friends. But that would have no bearing on him. He’d been very discreet in his recent dealings with Bryce. Only a handful of people knew of their intimate connection back in college, and one of them was dead. Maybe he’d be better off engaging his wife in whatever discussion she wanted to have about his old lover. Stan was fighting to hold on to the heterosexual persona he’d carefully crafted over two decades. Passion was an integral part, even a pivotal part, of his being successful.
“I’m sorry, Passion. You’re right. It’s been a rather stressful day, and I was looking forward to releasing some energy by taking the boys out on the court. I’m happy to talk with you, but I’ll change first.”
“Are you hungry?”
“A little. Heat up those turnovers as well.”
“Wonderful.” Passion rose from her chair to where Stan still sat. She kissed his smooth, bald head. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Let’s keep it casual. I’ll meet you in the den.”
Fifteen minutes later, Passion and Stan were seated on the oversized forest-green sofa in the comfortably decorated den. They ate the turnovers from a shared tray, munched potato chips, and drank lavender-infused tea. Two glasses of lemon water sat on one of the large square ottomans that doubled as tables. The tension from earlier had dissipated as Stan told Passion some of what had transpired at church.
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