Wrath

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  After more moments of silence, Chastity leaned forward, her lips aimed toward mine, but before we touched, the car edged to the curb and she pulled back. “We’re here,” she whispered, and I could have sworn her voice trembled.

  As she slapped on her sunglasses, I thanked the driver, then pushed the car door open because Chastity hadn’t made a move; I still had to give her a little nudge before she slid out. But then she went into high gear.

  “We’re going in through my dad’s entrance,” she said, lowering her eyes as if she was avoiding contact with everyone. We weaved through the parishioners who packed the outside of the church and rounded the corner.

  “Hiding me from the people,” I teased as I trotted to keep up with her sprint.

  “No.” She slowed her steps, then leaned into me as she cracked her first smile of the morning. “I want to introduce you to the world, but the first person you need to meet is my father.”

  “Ah, but he won’t be the first. Remember… your mother…”

  The cheer she had a moment ago faded, and I regretted my words. I’d taken her back to yesterday.

  But after we climbed the three steps that led to the side of the church, Chastity leaned in and kissed me, telling me she forgave me. I was swept away by what she stirred inside me, falling deeper and deeper into the feeling until… the door of the church opened, and we were both startled. Clearly, we’d forgotten where we were.

  “Mom!” Chastity exclaimed. “How did you know we were out here?” And then she glanced up, and I did, too, both of us taking in the sight of the surveillance camera.

  “Have you been standing here the whole time?” Chastity asked her mother.

  “No, I was in your father’s office when he saw you walk up. You remember we had that camera installed a few years ago, right? When he saw you, I came out to greet you. I wanted to escort you back to see Pastor.” After she hugged Chastity, Mrs. Jeffries turned to me. “How are you, Mr. King?”

  “I’m great. But please, call me Xavier.”

  Her approval was in her smile. “We don’t have much time; I expected you to be here a bit earlier, so we could have all shared a cup of tea before service.”

  “Xavier and I had to… meet up… so we could ride together,” Chastity said, and it took every part of me to keep my face straight with her smooth lie, even as she stood in her father’s church. “I didn’t want Xavier to come here by himself.”

  “Well, you’re here,” Mrs. Jeffries spoke to me. “Pastor is anxious to meet you.”

  As we moved behind her mother, I reached for Chastity’s hand, hoping that was a reminder of what I’d told her in the car. At the end of the hall, we paused at a door that opened into an expansive office.

  From where we stood, I saw Chastity’s father, the infamous Kareem Jeffries. His head was lowered, his eyes on the pages of an opened Bible. It didn’t look like he was reading, though. He was just staring, as if he was soaking up the words.

  Was that his superpower? Did he just absorb the Bible? Maybe Chastity had been right—maybe after one glance, her father knew all things.

  After two taps on the door, Mrs. Jeffries said, “Pastor?”

  It was interesting that’s what she called her husband, and I wondered if she just did that at church.

  As the pastor raised his head, Chastity dropped my hand. She rushed toward her father as he whispered her name, and when they embraced, he half lifted his daughter from her feet. A bittersweet memory consumed me—my sixth birthday and my mother lifting me in greeting. She was the only person who’d ever been that happy to see me.

  “How are you, princess?”

  I watched as he stepped back, still holding her hands but taking in every inch of her. He looked at her completely, the way my mother had looked at me. Whatever he saw in Chastity this morning pleased him, because his smile had enough wattage to power New York.

  “I’m really good, Papa.”

  “You don’t know what these Sunday mornings do for me when I have a chance to worship the Lord, and see you and your mother sitting in the front pew. Now that I know I’ll see you at least once a week.” Then after a pause, he added, “Sometimes.”

  “Is that some low-key shade?” Chastity asked, and we all laughed. She continued, “You know how busy I’ve been, and then last week…”

  I wondered what lie would she tell now, but she didn’t add anything.

  Her father said, “I understand. You’re just living your blessed and big life in the city.”

  Those words must have made him remember that his daughter had arrived with a guest. He pivoted toward me, but his only greeting was the extension of his hand; there was no smile on his face.

  Mrs. Jeffries said, “Pastor, I’d like to present Mr. Xavier King,” as if this formal introduction was her job.

  His hand swallowed mine, which was a feat, because I wasn’t a small dude. But standing in his shadow showed me why Kareem Jeffries had held it down on the basketball court back in the day.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Pastor Jeffries.”

  “The pleasure is mine.” He held my hand with a grip that was one degree removed from arm wrestling, and he held on to me for so long, I wondered if he was waiting for a bell to ring so he’d be declared the victor. When he released me, he gestured toward the chairs in front of his desk.

  I resisted the urge to massage the ache from my knuckles. No, he was not going to see that he’d caused me a little pain, though I knew that was his intent.

  As I sat, I peeped the more informal setting on the other side of the office: the two overstuffed sofas facing each other with a coffee table in between. A place to entertain, if not friends, people a pastor would want to know better. I was not one of those—yet.

  I sat up straight but not stiffly—respectful, not intimidated.

  “I’m very happy to meet the first man my daughter thought worthy enough to enter this church.”

  Worthy. I nodded. “It’s certainly an honor to be here with you.”

  Pastor Jeffries sat in his chair, his fingers tapping together, forming a steeple, while Mrs. Jeffries stood at his right side, her hand on top of his chair. The two of them were connected, an emotional bond that was easy to see. I didn’t know much about the Bible, but the way Mrs. Jeffries stood, she was the embodiment of his helpmate. At the same time, he was her protection; from the way he held my hand I knew he’d drag a man (and maybe even a woman) if anyone stepped incorrectly to his wife… or his daughter.

  I received the message, accepted it, internalized it, and couldn’t wait for the day when Chastity and I stood the same way.

  Pastor Jeffries said, “So, where did you two meet?”

  Before I could respond, Chastity interjected, “At Melanie’s party, when she opened her clinic,” as if she wanted to make sure the correct answer was given.

  Her father nodded. “Ah, Melanie. Another daughter I see on occasional Sundays.”

  When he laughed, he reached over his shoulder for his wife’s hand as if she were not close enough.

  “Well, Chastity”—I turned to her—“is the one who stood out in the crowd. In an offhanded way, Melanie introduced us. And we ended up talking all night, and—”

  “All night at the club,” Chastity spoke up quickly, as if she wanted it to be clear. “We talked for the rest of the night at the party. Before I left to go home.”

  With the way her parents nodded, I now understood the concern she’d had in the car. Truly, they thought their daughter was her name.

  I had to hold my laugh inside before I continued, “It was a great night. We found it easy to talk to each other, both of us being attorneys, having the same birthday, the same interests.”

  “Really,” her parents spoke together.

  We mimicked her parents when we nodded together and said, “Yes.”

  Chastity picked up the story. “It’s been a good time, and we’re great friends.”

  “Friends,” her father responded to her, but peered
at me.

  As an attorney, I’d learned many lessons beyond the books. This was one of those moments for one of those lessons. So even though the heat of KJ’s stare was enough to warm the sun a few degrees, I didn’t shift. Even though my eyelids itched, I didn’t blink. I didn’t give away the truth when I said, “Yes, we’re friends,” and then added, “but if this is up to me, I hope one day Chastity and I will be more than that. I’m quite taken with your daughter.”

  The moment I spoke, I wanted to hit reverse. Not because my words weren’t true, but because I saw the heat rising beneath the sienna tone of Chastity’s skin. It wasn’t because she was embarrassed; it was because she remembered how we’d spent last night.

  Her mother beamed, but my words had not moved her father.

  “Well,” her mother spoke for the first time since she’d made the introduction, “it looks like the praise and worship team is about to begin.”

  I followed her glance to the fifty-inch television screen that seemed to show the church’s sanctuary. Right next to it was a screen of the same size that showed the door where we’d just entered.

  Mrs. Jeffries continued, “Let’s give Pastor his time before he has to go before the people.” She kissed her husband, but when she made the move toward us, he grasped her wrist.

  “Sweetheart, would you mind staying?”

  “I thought I should go out there with them,” she said to her husband. “You know, block all the church people who will want to get into our daughter’s business.”

  “Let Jesus be their fence,” my dad said. “Chastity and Xavier can handle it, and I need to speak with you.”

  “We certainly can.” I stood and helped Chastity do the same. When I stretched toward Pastor Jeffries and took his hand again, I hoped for a warmer parting. But it was the same as the greeting—the same grip, the same expression, the same message that Chastity was his daughter. He studied me, his assessment incomplete in the five minutes we’d spent together. But I was fine; it would get better. All Pastor Jeffries needed to know was that I was going to treat his daughter right.

  He said, “Enjoy the service, Xavier. And we’re looking forward to you joining us in our home afterward.”

  I smiled, nodded, then followed Chastity from her father’s office. There would come a day when Pastor Jeffries would shake my hand as if we were on the same side. He’d shake my hand as his son.

  My thoughts paused. I’d only thought about Chastity as my family, but I’d have an extended one. A mother and a real father. KJ Jeffries at that.

  That made me smile all the way into the sanctuary.

  15 Xavier

  The sanctuary surged with electricity as the congregants sang and danced, praised and worshipped. It was unabashed adulation unto the Lord, and I stood a bit bewildered. The joy was palpable; this was something I had never experienced. But while I didn’t have the connection to God these people had, I shared their gratitude. Because while our reasons were different, I was as glad to be in this place as they were.

  I glanced at the reason for my joy. Chastity’s eyes were closed, her head back and her arms raised in adoration. While she adored God, I adored her and this moment we were sharing. This was what I’d wanted since I’d met her—a chance to create our own memories. That had been difficult because while the city offered much, there were few things that met my standards. So the carriage ride through Central Park—I had done the same with Diane. Dinner at Masa—where I’d asked Roxanne to marry me. And riding up the elevator to the top of the hotel for dinner—that was Valentine’s Day for Diane and Roxanne.

  But this? I had never stood, shoulders touching, with either of my ex-fiancées in the front pew of one of the most prominent churches in the city. That alone made me rock with the band, made me give my own praise. I hadn’t realized I’d closed my eyes until Chastity reached for me. She entwined her fingers with mine, she squeezed my hand, her message that now, she had me.

  Yes, this was a new memory, but as I looked down at her hand in mine, my consciousness took me back to another time, the last time I’d sat in church…

  September 2, 1990

  We stopped at the storefront, but my mama didn’t open the door. “Let me adjust your tie before we go in.” She knelt and sighed. “Whew, it’s hot enough to roast a lizard.”

  I giggled. “Mama, nobody roasts lizards.”

  “Well, they could if they wanted to in this heat. Now stand still so I can straighten your tie.”

  “I don’t like wearing a tie,” I whined, trying to back away from her prying fingers. “It makes me hot and makes me itch.”

  “Really?” Her voice was filled with disappointment when she pulled her hand away. “But it makes you look like so handsome.”

  Then she smiled, and just like that, I cooled off and stopped itching.

  “Okay.” After one more tug, my mother stood, then grabbed my hand. “We’re ready.” But still she didn’t push open the door. She took a deep breath as if she needed some kind of special energy to step inside the little church that used to be a liquor store.

  “Lord, I need to hear a good word, today, I really do,” my mother whispered. “I need you, Lord, to answer these prayers. I need a real blessing, ’cause after next week,” she paused, “I don’t know what my little man and I are gonna do.” She took a deep breath, but she didn’t move, as if she wanted to first make sure the Lord heard her. She added, “A blessing, Lord,” she reminded Him, then she squeezed my hand. When she said, “Come on, little man,” there was more than a smile on her face—I heard the hope in her voice.

  We stepped up the single stair, and when Mama pushed open the door, the first thing that hit me was the heat that wrapped around and hugged me. It was almost one hundred degrees outside; that’s what Mama said as we walked the two blocks from where the bus let us off. But outside felt like the air-conditioning in the community center compared to this church.

  When we stepped all the way in, I couldn’t breathe. “Mama,” I whispered. “It’s too hot.”

  “Can you be my little man just for a little while?” she whispered back. “We won’t stay long. I promise.”

  There were only five long benches in the whole church, and on the end of the second-to-last one, there was enough space for about one and a half people. Mama pushed me into the row first, and I wiggled down next to the lady who wore a red hat that was bigger than me. When my mama sat down, I half sat on her lap, making it feel like the temperature had soared another two hundred degrees.

  How was I supposed to be still when all I could think about was how hot it was and how I wanted to take off this tie? That was all—until the preacher stood up. He was a big man, like a football player. He was huffing and puffing before he even said anything.

  Then he began, but he didn’t talk; he kinda sang. And then he danced, too, putting on a whole show.

  “God’s gonna take care of you.”

  The preacher hopped like a bunny across the stage, and someone shouted out, “Amen.”

  “No matter what you’re going through, God always takes care of you.”

  Now he skipped the other way, and someone else yelled, “Hallelujah.”

  “So if He’s done it before, He’s surely gonna take care of you now. Fear not!” he screamed and then danced in place, moving his feet fast, like the blades on the fan that Mama kept in our window.

  “Preach it!” the whole church stood and shouted at the same time.

  As everyone stood, shouting and singing, Mama sat, rocking back and forth.

  “God’s got you!”

  When the preacher said that, my mama began to cry.

  “Mama, are you okay?” I asked, making sure I used my inside voice so she wouldn’t get more upset.

  She reached into her purse for a tissue, then blew her nose as she nodded. But still she cried.

  “The Lord has a blessing with your name on it,” the minister sang. “All you have to do is stand!”

  I hopped up, then pulled
my mother’s hand. “Come on, Mama, you have to stand. You have to stand for the blessing!”

  But no matter how much I tugged, my mother wouldn’t get up.

  “Come on, Mama. Stand!” I pleaded, knowing how much she needed a blessing. She’d just asked God for that.

  She would not be moved, though, and I wondered if her tears stopped her from hearing. So I repeated everything I’d heard him say: “Don’t worry, Mama, God’s gonna take care of us,” I sang, the way the preacher had. “God always takes care of us. He’s surely gonna take care of us. All we have to do is stand for our blessing! Amen, Hallelujah, preach it!”

  Mama’s head shot up, and though her eyes were still so glassy, she busted out laughing. “Now you’re my little preacher man,” she said and reached for my hand…

  THAT MEMORY BROUGHT a smile to my lips, but also the ache that always came with thoughts of my mama. Especially this reflection, because just weeks after that, Mama and I had moved in with Gran and life had never been the same. I’d always wondered what would have happened if my Mama had just stood up that day in church…

  I felt the tug of my hand and glanced up as Chastity was trying to get me to stand with her. I’d been so lost in my thoughts—I had no idea what was going on.

  “So before we welcome all of our guests,” Pastor Jeffries said from the altar, “I wanted to give a special welcome to my princess and her friend, though she is certainly not a guest at Greater Grace.”

  “Amen!” It seemed as if all two thousand of the people in the sanctuary sang together.

  “Welcome, Mr. King,” her father said, and I nodded, hoping that was all I was supposed to do. “I pray this will be a day of spiritual enlightenment and joy for you.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Pastor Jeffries turned to the entire congregation. “Now I’d like to ask any other visitors to please stand so we can welcome you to Greater Grace.”

  As Pastor Jeffries spoke to the other visitors, I understood why this had never happened with anyone else. After my mother, the only woman I was supposed to sit next to at church had to be the woman who was meant to be my wife.