God Only Knows

by Xavier Knight

  “Why can’t you just chill out some, man?” M.J. stepped closer to his cousin, and knew instantly he was abusing his superior size. “God wants the best for all of us, but I know it takes everybody time to figure out what that means for them. That’s why I haven’t passed judgment on you, man, why I enjoy hangin’ with you.”

  “Yeah, so what’s changed?” Dante reached forward and shoved his cousin back a step.

  M.J. raised his hands toward the sky, balling his fists to keep from losing his temper. “Be cool, Dante. You ain’t got to put your hands on a brother.”

  Dante took another step forward, spitting between his teeth as he said, “You feeling threatened, cousin? ’Cause you know I got something beside my hands you should be fearin’.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” M.J. replied, turning on his heels as his face flushed with anger. He knew Dante didn’t go anywhere without being strapped up, but he was pretty sure he’d had to leave his favorite little .22 home before this trip. The security scanners at the stadium gate should have caught him red-handed.

  M.J. was almost cooled down by the time he walked away from the next concession stand, two jumbo hot dogs in each hand. Dante sauntered up to him from out of nowhere —nonchalantly snatching two dogs from his cousin. “Yo,” M.J. said, elbowing Dante, “those ain’t got your name on ’em. They for my pops.”

  “Uncle Marcus got a little bit of a gut comin’ on there,” Dante replied, unwrapping the first dog and snaring a bite. “I’m just looking out for him, saving him a few unnecessary calories.”

  The two erupted into a fit of cathartic laughter, pausing to loiter a few feet away from the steps leading back to their seats. “Yo, sorry for getting in your grill just now,” Dante said after nearly swallowing the second hot dog whole. “I know you’re a loyal bro, M.J. Shoot, to be honest, I thought you’d act like I didn’t exist after my first stay in juvie all those years ago. Not you, though. All your girls, all your headlines in the sports pages, not to mention your snooty parents, none of that has made you embarrassed of me.”

  M.J. unwrapped his first hot dog, keeping his head down as he munched. Dante would freak him out if he kept up this sentimental talk. “Don’t mention it, man. I’m glad you understand, though.” He held out a hand and matched his cousin’s hand and backslap. “We’ll be back on the road together eventually, soon as you get your nose clean and my mom deals with this little situation she got.”

  Dante crossed his arms, letting both hot dog wrappers fall to the floor. “What’s that?”

  “Oh, uh, nothing.” M.J. remembered his promise to his parents —that no one outside the Gillette house needed to know about Whitlock or what had happened to his little brother.

  “Yo.” Dante’s eyebrows jumped. “I hope you slicker than that when one of your girls catches you in a lie. You are straight-up see-through, M.J.!”

  “Yeah, you got jokes.” M.J. playfully shoved his cousin, a move that did nothing to slow Dante’s braying laughter. “You know what, bug it.” Why shouldn’t he tell Dante the whole truth? After all, this whole drama with the detective was the real reason he had to cut Dante loose. His cousin may as well know the whole story. What would Jesus do? Tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but.

  Having sold himself, M.J. stepped closer to Dante. Speaking in a low voice, he broke it down for him. As he recounted what he knew, M.J. caught something different in Dante’s gaze, something he couldn’t recall seeing before. He wasn’t sure whether to label it as confusion or concern.

  “You kidding me, right?” Having absorbed the entire story, Dante widened his stance and planted his hands against his hips. “This police pig trying to blackmail your ma on the strength of something she maybe did twenty years ago?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Yo!” Dante pressed a finger into M.J.’s chest, then hopped back as if he’d touched something hot. “You got a straight psycho here, and to make it worse, he’s wearin’ a badge!” He paced suddenly, nearly taking a lap around M.J., who stood still with arms crossed. “Why are you and your dad here, talking to me, when you got a major situation going on back home?”

  “It’s being handled,” M.J. replied, not sure he was even convincing himself. “My parents insist they got this idiot covered now. My mom’s got an attorney and everything.”

  “Oh, that’ll solve everything.” Dante shook his head. “School me again in case I don’t have this right, man. A crooked cop says he’ll take me out for sport, and squash you too —just to get at your moms?”

  M.J. slowly raised his head, his chest suddenly tight. Even though he knew he shouldn’t, he expected to like what he was about to hear.

  “War has been declared on our family, dog,” Dante said. “And you know what? The right soldier finally knows about it. What’s this buster’s name again?”

  24

  By the time everyone at the table had started in on dessert and coffee, Julia could feel her self-restraint leaking away. For nearly an hour, she had made civil small talk with Maxwell and his friends, but increasingly she felt she was the only one showing such devotion.

  For starters, she and Maxwell were the only ones to arrive at Mr. Hyman’s Fine Dining on time. Lyle and his wife, Stacy, who looked like Beyoncé, with naturally straight hair, were fifteen minutes late, and Jake and his short, pudgy wife, Meghan, came in ten minutes after that. For an outing that had been set up as more business than pleasure, Julia didn’t appreciate what that indicated about the sincerity of their supposed interest in contributing to Christian Light’s struggle for survival.

  Her patience was already fraying at both ends. There was the weight of her and Cassie’s ongoing attempts to deal with Peter Whitlock, despite the extra drama Marcus had stirred up. In addition, Julia found herself spending increasing amounts of time away from Amber, something she was determined to change as soon as possible. Riding to Mr. Hyman’s with Maxwell, she had wondered whether she was up to building bridges with these two influential Christian Light alumni.

  It had not been easy. First Jake had tied up several minutes with what felt like an inquisition, as if he would have preferred Julia had stayed back in Chicago instead of returning home. Once she had endured the pastor’s curiosity, Julia had tried to shift gears and brief everyone on the school system’s plight and Christian Light’s need for additional donations and volunteer labor. From minute to minute, though, Julia was made aware of just how much of an outsider she was. Nearly every minute had been wasted, consumed by the men’s arguments over their favorite NFL and college football teams as the women compared notes on their children’s progress in school.

  “I’m sorry,” Maxwell whispered into Julia’s ear as she held a fork above her slice of pecan pie. “We all get carried away sometimes when we’re together.” He leaned into her farther, enough that Julia considered telling him to scoot back. Her heart warming, butterflies forming, she decided against it. Instead, she sat very still as he said, “Watch this.”

  “Well, before we wind this delicious meal down,” Maxwell said aloud, cutting Lyle off halfway through a sophomoric joke, “I wanted to make sure the four of you got the information you needed from Julia. As tight as all of our schedules are, there’s no telling how soon I’ll be able to get you all together again.”

  Jake made fleeting eye contact with Julia —it seemed to be the only type he was capable of, at least where she was concerned —then wiped some sweet potato pie from his lips before saying, “Meghan had a question, right, sweetie?”

  “Well, I think we both have the same question, Jake.” Her freckled face shining with sincerity, Meghan popped her husband’s shoulder playfully before looking over at Julia. “We really admire what you’re doing to save the school, Julia. The only thing we can’t understand is how you’ll be able to provide children with a school environment that really looks like America.”

  “Looks like America?” Julia felt herself frown instinctively, but the unofficial politician in her forced her to s
often it into a confused smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “It’s really not complicated,” Jake replied, coming to his wife’s defense. “You see, when we were all students at Christian Light, we were in the minority, right? There were —what —thirty or forty black students out of five hundred in the entire system? We were basically right in line with our numbers in the general population.”

  Oh, boy. Julia quoted the words of Paul to herself, clawing for the peace of God that passed all understanding. “So,” she said, “you’re saying that the old Christian Light looked like America because it was mostly white?”

  “No,” Jake replied, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “I’m saying that the new Christian Light looks more like Harlem than it looks like America.” Elbows on the table, the pastor’s thick eyebrows rose with his intense stare —further evidence that, to Julia’s surprise, Lyle had come off so far as the friendly one.

  Nearly gasping at the pastor’s nerve, Julia chose to sit still as Maxwell broke out in laughter. “Jake,” he said, “you clearly haven’t been to Harlem lately. Bill Clinton has a major office there, and white yuppies couldn’t trail behind him fast enough.”

  Jake frowned at his friend’s apparent disrespect. “You get my point, man.”

  “The question,” Lyle said, one hand entwined with Stacy’s, “is whether we’re all comfortable saving a school that’s basically turning into a black institution. A school targeted at poor African-American kids, not a cross section of kids from all races, economic classes, and regions around the Miami Valley. That was an important part of what we all experienced, Julia.”

  “I don’t question that,” Julia replied. “But I’m sorry, I’m not going to get into this argument with you all. If we had a choice about what type of children to serve, maybe it would make sense. The fact is, we don’t. We need to serve the families that are coming to us, and those happen to be minority children from lower-income households.

  “Frankly, I think it makes our Christian mission all the more critical. We have the chance to do more than give these kids a ‘good’ education and some feel-good scriptural teaching. We have the chance to transform their lives!” Julia was embarrassed at how quickly she had climbed onto her soapbox.

  Jake cleared his throat but searched Julia’s eyes as he said, “I hate to burst a well-intentioned bubble, Julia, but I’ll just state what others are thinking. Why not just let Christian Light close? Maybe God has done the work He saw fit to do through the school, work that can now be done by the better-funded parochial schools —”

  “Sure,” Julia replied, “that sound great, Pastor. You got a few hundred vouchers to pay every Christian Light student’s way into the suburban Christian school systems?”

  “Well,” Jake said, grimacing and exchanging wary glances with Meghan, “now you’ve got your hand in my wallet.”

  Silence enclosed their table for what felt like minutes before Stacy cleared her throat and looked over at Julia. “Is it really true that there’s no choice but to serve one population? I’ve talked with Lyle about this. We have a heart for helping the less fortunate —in addition to tithing, we give ten percent of our income to charity every year. We value your vision for the school, Julia, we just think you should aim higher. Why not keep serving the poor but expand the school by upgrading facilities, paying market-rate salaries so you can attract more of the region’s best teachers and administrators, and then compete with the suburban Christian school systems?”

  Perhaps if she had gotten one more hour of sleep the night before, Julia would not have spoken her thoughts aloud. “You’ll have to forgive my blunt honesty, but you’re describing a fairy-tale world, Stacy, a world where I could raise millions at the drop of a hat and where parents in Centerville, Springboro, and Beavercreek didn’t view the city of Dayton as a wasteland for which their children are too good.”

  “Well,” Stacy replied, tracing her napkin’s stitching with a fingernail, “some would say that as superintendent of schools, it’s your job to go out and battle those perceptions.”

  Julia shrugged as she kept her eyes on Lyle’s wife. “I’m sorry, but I have to live in the real world. I can’t change those perceptions, only God can.” She scooted her seat back, deciding in the moment that she’d had about enough of this hopeless exercise. “Excuse me, please, I need to visit the ladies’ room.” One hand on Maxwell’s back, she whispered into his ear, “You can pay and meet me at the front door.”

  “Whoa!” Climbing into the driver’s seat of his car, Maxwell shook his head in amusement, one eye on Julia as he shut his door. “So I think that went really well.”

  “Very funny,” Julia replied, her arms crossed. She turned away from her date, any romantic rapport dissipating by the minute. “Thank you so much for suggesting this outing.”

  “I know, I know,” Maxwell said, suppressing a wide smile while starting his engine. “Wasn’t exactly a match made in heaven. Just so we’re clear, Jake and Meghan pulled a fast one on me with that ‘looks like America’ mess.”

  “How does a man with such a cold heart claim to be God’s messenger? At least Pastor Pence poured millions of dollars into the school for decades before abandoning it.” She turned to fully face Maxwell. “What exactly have your friend and his church ever done to help the less fortunate?”

  Maxwell fidgeted in his seat. “The man does have a real heart for God, trust me. They tithe the church budget to any number of urban ministries and to a handful that serve African nations to boot. As far as Christian Light goes, though, he just may be a lost cause. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s basically what I suspected,” Julia replied, shrugging and retreating to the safety of the mirror embedded into the passenger-side visor. “I’m not so sure your friends have matured meaningfully, not even after all these years.”

  “Don’t get carried away,” Maxwell said as he zoomed into traffic. “I may not agree with their politics or ideology all the time, but Jake and Lyle haven’t achieved career success by happenstance, and they’re both great dads with lovely wives. They are my friends.”

  “That’s your experience with them, I understand.” Julia applied a fresh coat of lipstick, shaking her head wearily. “Dr. Simon, can I fire you from the Board of Advisors over this?”

  Maxwell chuckled. “Dr. Turner, my heart was in the right place. Give me another chance. Please?”

  “You know I’m kidding.”

  “Tell me this,” he said as he pulled into Julia’s driveway a few minutes later. “Before you unloaded on Stacy with that ‘fairy-tale’ comment, did you feel any hesitation? I mean, I know you didn’t agree with her vision for the school, but the two of you were much closer in thought than you were with Jake and Meghan. And not to risk rubbing it in, but Stacy and Lyle are the type who can write someone a check for thousands without blinking.”

  “I could have told the sister what she wanted to hear,” Julia replied, chuckling. “Then I would have spent the next year hearing from her every time I failed to coax more suburban white kids into attending the school. No, thank you.”

  “Well,” Maxwell said, turning to face Julia and flipping on an overhead light, “I’ll be interested to see what types of conversations this leads to.”

  Julia felt it drop into her hand, and when she saw the dollar figure written into the check’s box —ten thousand —she shot out a hand, steadying herself against Maxwell’s shoulder. “Oh, Lord Jesus!”

  Reaching for her chin, Maxwell gently guided Julia’s gaze to his, even as her body shook with glee. “Lyle may not even know she wrote that,” he whispered, “so I suggest you have your treasurer deposit it first thing Monday. You see,” he said, scooting closer, “Stacy’s big on integrity, and I know from Lyle’s complaints that most of her donations, she makes them based on her impressions of the leader. I knew if you two interacted directly, she’d hook you up.”

  Despite herself, Julia reached up, taking Maxwell’s c
hin in her hands. “Why?” she asked. “Why are you being so thoughtful, so nice to me?”

  Maxwell frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it’s not like you’re trying to get me into bed.” Julia was immediately embarrassed at the words, shook her head as if to will them back into the ether. “I —I just don’t get all this, Maxwell. Are you trying to make up for breaking my heart all those years ago?”

  His gaze softening, Maxwell leaned in again, leaving Julia’s hands cupped around his chin. “I can’t say I planned it, Julia,” he whispered, “but that seems to be where this is headed.”

  Realizing suddenly that his arms had circled her waist, Julia felt her heart pounding. He’s going to kiss me, she thought, and I’m going to let him.

  25

  So,” Maxwell said as he and Julia strolled toward the checkroom at Cincinnati’s National Underground Railroad Freedom Center, “what do we do for an encore?” Julia could hardly believe they were already winding down their third date. She was pretty sure that even for a Christian couple who had agreed up front that premarital sex was out of the question, this was a significant milestone.

  “I’m not sure what we do next,” she replied as he helped her into her cashmere overcoat. “I’m just enjoying the moment, if you don’t mind. More important,” she said, winking as she looked at him over her shoulder, “I’ve enjoyed getting some education today.”

  “You?” Maxwell smiled. “Shoot, Julia, you were practically narrating half the exhibits for me. I’m the one who had no clue about the important role this region played in freeing our ancestors.”

  “Well, I cheated,” Julia replied, laughing. “Amber’s class was just here on a field trip, and you better believe she came home ready to transfer everything she learned over to me.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me? Sounds like you two definitely share some genes.” As he held a door open for her, ushering her outside, he paused. “I’d like to do an outing with both of you eventually, if you don’t mind.”