Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father

by Laveen, Tiana

  “You look as if you’ve fought a bull and been on the losing end.”

  “May as well have been… Xenia, goddamn. It was crazy.”

  “What happened?”

  “I had the talk about Traci with Jagger. That’s what took me so long. He lost his damn mind. He was defensive, angry, sad, frightened. It was terrible to watch. I was actually in danger for a few minutes there, certain he and I were going to have it out.”

  “Oh my God, why in the world would he do that just because you asked about it?”

  “I thought we were going to end up killing each other. I guess it is because I kept asking and demanding answers. He doesn’t like to be told what to do or questioned about his behavior.”

  “Hmmm, you two are too much alike.” Xenia grinned. Saint rolled his eyes at her and continued.

  “He has this anger, I mean…it is crazy, Xenia. You thought I was a hothead? Oh no, I look meek and mild compared to how he can go from zero to ten in a nanosecond.” He ran a hand along his neck and slumped further under the sheets. “Before I get into all of that, one more thing about your father. Do you know what I did manage to pick up?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me something negative.” She grimaced, her lips twisted up as if they were being pinched with a snack bag clip. “You know I have issues regarding him, Saint. Please don’t make it worse. You have no idea how hard it was for me to not curse his ass out when I first saw him. Like I said, I’m trying to be an adult about this.”

  “I guess you’re right. I’m not trying to upset you, it’s just…” He sighed and stopped himself. “Besides, I could be wrong, maybe going through my reads from your emotions. It’s happened before.” He yawned.

  “So what happened with Jagger? It obviously didn’t go well.”

  “I wouldn’t say it went badly per se. There was a resolution, it’s just that Jagger doesn’t like to be confronted when he does something wrong. His brain is like a computer. He deals with fact and figures, right and wrong, and the best possible outcome.”

  “Traci said that about him, too.”

  “He is a really smart cat but he has all that muscle, and his temper is really out of whack. I know how this happened. He had a really bad childhood, Xenia.”

  “Hmmm, I’m sorry to hear that. It looks like overall he came out well though.”

  “Yeah, for the most part. You know how some men repeat what they saw growing up, if they saw their mom being beaten? They will many times turn around and do the same thing to their girlfriend or wife.”

  “Yes, that happened a lot in my family. It’s a vicious cycle.”

  “Yes it is, but he is one of the few that decided it was his job to protect whatever woman he was with, even from the truth, and it has cost him. That’s part of the reason he stayed with his shady ass ex-wife so long but he always runs back to his intellect when the emotions start to crowd him. He doesn’t like to feel anything, Xenia. I noticed that when I first met him. He goes through life with a checklist and if something deviates from that, then he will try to delete it, and if he can’t delete it, he will go to extreme measures to not have his emotions sitting there, raw like that. His father raised him to believe that big boys don’t feel anything, that being sad and feeling remorseful was for the weak.”

  “Wow. I find that incredibly sad.” He glanced at her. Her eyes were sullen. She really felt for the guy. Saint always suspected that Xenia was somewhat empathic. He could never speak to her about tragic souls without her own emotions bleeding into the wounded. He appreciated that about her. The woman had compassion, even for those that had hurt her.

  “He is very hard on himself. He hates to lose, hates to feel like someone could hurt him, yet, he wants to be loved. He can’t have it both ways. Loving someone and receiving love requires vulnerability.”

  “Do you think he has always been this way or is this something he took on during the Marines?” She folded a small make-up remover swatch in half, and went over her face in circular motions, removing the earth-toned eye shadow, black mascara and ruby red lipstick.

  “To some extent, but not this bad until his ex-wife turned his life upside down. I mean, he really opened himself up to that woman from what I understand and she reached in, grabbed his heart and twisted that shit up like a pretzel. I’m not going to lie,” Saint put his arm behind his head as he stared at the blank television screen, “he is fucked up. The anger in him causes him to act out violently.”

  “What? But you said he seems protective over women.” She stopped what she was doing and stared straight ahead at him. “You don’t think he’d—”

  “No, no. I know he wouldn’t. The man is strong, he knows he could kill someone easily with his bare hands, but I don’t believe for one second he has the capability to be violent toward women, just like I said. He’s scared, Xenia. There is something really sad about seeing a grown ass man wilt away in front of you, like some little kitten.” He threw his hands up in the air, then let his palms slap his sheet-covered thighs. “He is so in love with her…”

  “I know.” Xenia smiled as she turned back toward the mirror. “So what is the deal? Has he agreed to tell her?”

  “Yeah, and I told him we’d be there to help him.”

  Xenia paused. “Of course we will. If he wants us there then we will make it happen. Regardless, he has to do this.”

  “I know. And he knows it, too.” Saint yawned again, fluffed his pillow, and burrowed his head into it. He closed his eyes and fell into a light sleep…

  ~***~

  After a few minutes, Xenia started the shower. She gathered her gels, sponges and shampoo, and stood inside of the clear enclosure, the warm water suturing her from head to toe. With all of her might, she tried to push the thoughts of her father away, but his tawny, smiling face reentered her mind again. A part of her was happy to finally see the man. After all, he was her father. Another part of her wanted to smack the black right off of him. He’d caused more misery than happiness in their home. The guns, the illegal dealings, the cheating…yes, the cheating. Pam had caught him one too many times running around her. While she gave birth to the twin girls, he was out in the streets, and her mother never forgave him for it. The woman was working two jobs and had given him the blind eye on so many of his indiscretions, but she needed him there, and he was a no-show. She almost died in the hospital, and Henry was nowhere to be found at the time.

  Once a good-looking man, he had used that to his advantage until the well had run dry. Age had caught up with him, turned him around to face it and accept that the jig was up. Deep creases framed his eyes, making him look older than he was. Back in the day, he was something else. He was slick, street wise and had a pleasant demeanor, looked as if he wouldn’t hurt a fly. But he hurt all right. He’d destroy people with a mere phone call, or send some of his ‘special team’ to collect a debt. He was a prominent Blood gang member and respected drug dealer, but due to his even temperament, easygoing ways and charisma, he rarely garnered the type of attention that would normally be associated with his ilk. He always seemed to slip right under the radar. That was his claim to fame. Supposedly, he’d turned a new leaf in the last few years, but Xenia had tuned her sister, Porsche, out. She wanted nothing to do with the man. Then not long ago, he’d entered her thoughts and she contemplated about how terrible it would be if it were all true. What if the man had in fact changed? Would it be fair to keep him away from his grandchildren? She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to forgive him, but as for her children, she didn’t want them to have to take on her own emotional pain. This was her private cross to bear.

  Her thoughts drifted back to when the man walked out of her childhood home. She had no idea it would be the last time she’d see her father until now. One minute, he was eating a hotdog, dressed in a pair of black slacks and a white shirt. Soon after, he was counting money and left a wad of the crumpled cash on the dining room table. Pam stated later it was exactly three hundred and twent
y-one dollars… he’d abandoned the family and left them with a small settlement. The only turning he’d done as far as Xenia was concerned was his back on them. And one more thing bothered her as well. She was never able to prove it or have it confirmed, but she’d strongly suspected he’d also been a pimp for a short stint. The thought of it made her nauseous, sick to her damn stomach. Between Sinclair’s antics and now this, her nerves were fried like over-cooked bacon, sooty, greasy and crisp to the damn touch.

  She finished her shower and wrapped a towel around her head, blotting it dry, and plaited it up for a spiraled look in the morning. After lotioning herself and sliding on an old over-sized gray T-shirt, she got under the sheets, next to her husband. He moaned in his sleep as she drew near. He immediately spooned her, grabbing her around her waist, pressing his hard body into her. Oh how she loved when he did that. She felt so protected, so warm, so loved. And she needed that right then, more than ever. Anger could make someone cry, making it appear as if they were drowning in sorrow when in fact, they were itching to tear a person from limb to limb. She hated that she loathed her father; after all, she was a loving and forgiving woman, but he’d deserted her and her siblings. Now that she had her own family, she didn’t understand how someone could turn their back on their own flesh and blood, their own child—their own tiny soul dancing in front of them…

  She braced herself, vowing to try to get some sleep. She had a busy day ahead and would be running on only a few hours sleep. As she closed her eyes and tried to get settled, Saint drew closer to her and whispered so quietly, so sweetly in her ear: “You can’t imagine it, because you’re a terrific mother…that’s a foreign concept to you. Don’t try to understand it, just embrace the fact that your heart won’t let you comprehend it…and that is one of the many reasons why I love you…” He kissed the back of her neck, and they fell asleep, so close, so connected…

  ~***~

  Saint gripped the phone and looked at his reflection in the glass block table beside him. Incense swirled around his head and Erykah Badu crooned, “Didn’t Cha Know” in the background. He ran a hand over his knee and leaned back on the chase, the soft pool lights making the pool glimmer in strange yet picturesque ways. The water appeared as if it were covered in glittery silver ripples and yet, it remained undisturbed, his plans of a late night swim destroyed.

  “And they ran all of them? No results are out yet?” he asked in a low voice while glancing back at the house. A dull, throbbing pain hit deep in his heart.

  “Yes. They did all the blood work and performed an endoscopy, too. I guess all these years of keeping stuff inside caught up with me. Stress may not have caused it, but it sure didn’t help.”

  Saint took a deep breath and the conversation went silent for a while, as if the words and thoughts were frozen somewhere between denial and acceptance.

  “So,” he sucked in air, “just so I understand what we’re dealing with here, there is a hole in your small intestines from an ulcer that the doctor thinks has been there for at least a year or two? Pop, I’m not chastising you, but…why didn’t you see someone when this first happened? You know, after you saw the pain wasn’t stopping? Wasn’t going away?” He pushed the phone even closer to his ear, as if he needed to be sure he heard what he thought he heard the first time.

  “You know how I am.” His father offered a tempered laugh. “I just figured I may not have been eating well. It would stop, too. I wouldn’t have any problems for a while. So, I don’t know…”

  The two men were quiet, mired in their respective places on Earth, far away from each other, but empathically joined.

  “They are going to perform surgery as soon as possible. They want me to gain about five pounds first though. I’ve lost quite a bit of weight, about seventeen pounds or so. They said I’m too tall to be this weight, so, I better start eating more I guess. I have some medicine to take, too.”

  “What is the risk with this surgery, Dad?” Saint felt warning signs screaming in his ears.

  “Well, internal bleeding and infection are not unheard of...”

  Saint swiped a palm across his head, his feet far apart as he sat on the side of the pool bed. The open kitchen doors allowed traces of the recessed lighting to seep out just a tad onto the patio. He focused on it—becoming obsessed with that light and its warm glow over the stainless steel appliances as his mind raced, searching, trying to find a corner in a space called amity, to no avail.

  “Can I ask you something?” Saint stood and shoved his hand in his baggy windbreaker white pants.

  “Yes.”

  “Would you…let me come and —”

  “Do you understand the risks involved with that, Saint?” The man cut him off at the pass, knowing what he was cooking up. “It’s not the same as what you did for Jagger and Beset. We are related by blood. I’m your father so that— what you are getting ready to suggest—would zap you to the point that you may take on the ailment, and it would happen so fast you may die. Why do you think you experienced my pain so badly before? I can’t let you take that risk. You have a family of your own, Saint. And besides, you know the rules! It is just one of the pitfalls of being us.”

  “Dad, I can feel it.” Saint felt his heart burn right inside his chest. Nothing could be worse than this feeling of helplessness. “The doctors won’t do this right, you’ll be sick,” he said, his voice cracking at the last word. “Maybe even die. I need you to let me try first; I need you to trust me. You can’t heal yourself, you don’t have that gift…it’s me or no one at all unless there is someone else you can think of.”

  “There are others that can heal, but there is a long waiting list and they are rare, hard to find—and most are discriminatory about who they work with. Believe me, I know. And, it is a debilitating job. Some have died trying to heal others, Son. Being a healer isn’t easy. It’s taxing, grueling work. Saint…I can’t. I can’t let you do what you’re suggesting.”

  “I believe Lawrence. I felt your pain, took it on because I’m supposed to do something about it. Everything is happening for a reason. We…we became closer, our relationship mending. And now, you need me, and I need to do this.” He clamped down on his bottom lip, sinking his teeth into the flesh, trying to stifle his internal breakdown. “Dad, I have to do it. I have to.”

  His father sighed on the other end. “Look, let me think about it, please. If I do, and that is only an if, Saint, at the first sign of trouble, I want you to stop. As I think about this, in the meantime, can you promise me that and mean it? No games, Saint.”

  Saint hated this. He was on the spot. He could lie to his father and simply agree, knowing in his heart he would not stop until he was satisfied, but on the other hand, the man was right. Saint had a wife and children and he’d done so much already to ensure that his family was safe and sound. He also understood the emotional gravity. Mama had died, and he had no way of knowing in advance, no way of stopping it. He had a second chance with his father. He refused to just sit idly by and lose his second parent.

  “Okay, Dad, I tell you what.” He slowly paced, close to the pool, looking into the light blue marine beauty that beckoned him. He traced the circumference with his steps, circling it like a vulture does a dying animal in the desert. “I am going to come out there and perform the healing. If things get out of control, and I start to get ill, to the point where my health is in jeopardy, I promise to stop. If it makes you feel more at ease, I’ll bring Lawrence with me to help monitor it.”

  “You had me until the last part. Son, I don’t trust you. It’s no real fault of your own, but I know you, and how you become during situations like this. I don’t believe Lawrence will be able to physically stop you. You are too strong psychically for him to rein you in. You’d make sure he never even got close to you.”

  Saint’s tongue grew thick as a nauseating taste lined his taste buds. He yawned, trying to briefly escape the flavor of pending defeat before he’d even had a chance at bat.

  “I
need some sort of reassurance. I saw how crazy you even got about Beset.”

  “Yeah, and I was right. She lived. What if I had given up a moment too soon? She’d be in the ground.”

  “Yes, that is true, but you were messed up for quite some time afterward. Don’t you see? Healing takes a lot out of the healer, Saint. Regardless of that, I think I may have an idea based off your own suggestion. You need to bring someone who would be able to at least get you temporarily off of me, someone who you know, at least physically, is as strong as you so your psychic strength doesn’t kill them. Lawrence is strong and gifted, but he is an intellectual and not in your same league of physical strength and agility. Most Angel Children aren’t, so that puts me at a disadvantage of taking you up on this. But there is one person that comes to mind. One man who I know could take you on, at least for a brief period of time, long enough to stop you and make you come to your senses.”

  Jagger…

  “Okay, I know where this is going. You know I can still beat him though, right?” It wasn’t Saint’s pride talking, he was being serious. Jagger could restrain him, that was a fact, but it wouldn’t have any longevity. He needed his father to understand that he could not and would not be stopped by anyone, if he so chose. Saint was making a pact, and that was the only way he’d be accepted into his old man’s house to take care of the situation, once and for all.

  “Yes, but not without a struggle and you trust and love him. Bring him, bring Jagger, Saint, and I will let you come.” His father had a point. If Jagger could restrain him long enough, he could be snapped out of the healing trance and told in no uncertain terms, what was happening. He also trusted Jagger despite what had transpired when he confronted him about Traci. He knew the man would never intentionally try to hurt the process.