My Wife My Baby...And Him

by Shelia E. Bell

  Stiles stared at the ceiling like he was in a trance. The pangs of grief had him bound. He had been inside his townhouse ever since he saw his daughter being lowered in the ground. He refused to see anyone, including Pastor. His phone went unanswered and he avoided text messages from Hezekiah and Leo. Even Francesca tried to reach out to her brother, but he turned her away like she had done toward him many times before.

  Nothing could soothe him. Nothing could make him feel better. If no one could bring his little girl back, there was no need to talk to them or see them.

  He lashed out at God and for the first time since he answered his call into ministry, Stiles doubted his faith and questioned God.

  Day after day, night after night, he wept. Scattered around the townhouse were broken pieces of glass, vases and a turned over chair. He hated his life. He didn’t want to keep living if it meant living with the knowledge of what had happened to his baby girl.

  He thought about Detria. She never wanted Audrey in the first place. She was always putting her off on Mother Brown or Brooke. The day of the accident, what could have happened? The police said she was sitting at the light, a light that had changed to green, so what was she doing? What had her attention that she didn’t see the tractor-trailer? Was she talking to her lover, or was she screaming and hollering at Audrey for something stupid, like she usually did?

  Stiles rubbed his grimy, matted beard in a show of frustration and anger. This was her fault. Detria was nothing but bad news and she had allowed the worst thing that could happen to him, and to their family. Their daughter was dead and it happened on her watch. He would never forgive her.

  He mustered up enough strength to get up and search for his cell phone, which he hadn’t recalled seeing in days. He searched on the floor, in his pockets, and around the house, but he couldn’t find it. Going back over to the sofa, he looked between the pillows. His fingers came in contact with the Samsung Galaxy Note. Pulling it out of the sofa, he looked at it; it was dead, meaning he had to go find his charger. It didn’t take long for that because he usually kept an extra charger plugged in the wall in his bedroom.

  After the phone charged up, Stiles scrolled through his Contacts until he got to the name of Mitchell “Mitch” Tachowsky, his divorce lawyer. He left a message on the lawyer’s voicemail.

  Stiles had lost track of time. He didn’t know what time of day it was, nor did he know what day of the week. He gazed up at the video that was now showing him, Detria and Audrey at the zoo. Audrey was sitting on his shoulders, laughing and pointing at the polar bears. Tears formed quickly and streamed down his face.

  He turned away and went back into his bedroom, got the remote off the night table and sat on the edge of his bed. He turned on the television. It was Sunday night, close to ten o’clock. No wonder no one answered at the lawyer’s office.

  “Humph, Sunday. How ironic is that? God,” he looked up, “you never ever cease to amaze me. Of all days for me to get up – it has to be Sunday. Humph. Well, well, well, what are you trying to do to me now?” His words dripped with anger and sarcasm.

  He turned on the flat screen in his bedroom and blindly channel surfed, not looking for any program in particular.

  Stiles heard his cell phone ringing. It was still in the living room where he’d left it. He ignored it and remained seated on the bed. The phone stopped then started ringing again. He ignored it again, but it kept ringing.

  Finally after the sixth or seventh time, he slowly got up and dragged himself to get it.

  “Leave me alone!” he screamed as he walked to answer the ringing phone. “I should have let that phone stay dead.”

  “Hello,” he yelled into the phone as soon as he answered it.

  “Stiles?”

  Stiles listened to the familiar voice, a voice he once longed to hear but now meant nothing to him.

  “Whadda you want?” he asked Rena in a biting tone.

  “Uh, I’ve been trying to reach you but your phone kept going to voicemail.”

  “So, it was you calling me back to back, huh? Can’t you catch the hint, Rena? If someone keeps ignoring your calls, that’s usually a sign that person doesn’t want to talk.” Stiles was short and his words were cruel.

  “It wasn’t me. This is my first time calling,” she paused, “today, that is. How are you?” she asked, ignoring his bitter tone.

  “How am I? Hah.”

  “Yes. I’m concerned about you. I know it’s been a few months since Audrey, since Audrey passed.” She spoke slowly and cautiously. “But like I said, I haven’t been able to reach you. I wanted to tell you that I am so sorry. God knows my heart goes out to you.”

  Stiles paced the floor. “Is that right? Well that’s just fine, but I don’t need your sympathy, Rena.”

  “Stiles, please. I didn’t call to upset you. I just wanted to tell you that you’re in my prayers. Honest you are. And if there’s anything I…anything Robert and I can do for you, please let me know.”

  “Look, you have your family. You have your children. If you call yourself showing me that your life is picture perfect, then you’ve succeeded, so when are you going to stop rubbing it in my face, Rena? When?”

  “I’m not rubbing anything in your face. How could you think something like that?” Her voice sounded wounded and hurt by his remarks.

  “My daughter is dead. She…is…dead. Don’t you get it? Can you bring her back, Rena? Can you do that?”

  “You know that I can’t. If I could, Lord knows I would.”

  “In that case, you know what, there is something you can do for me.”

  “Of course, anything.”

  “Leave me the hell alone.” Stiles pushed the button and ended the call. Going back to the leather sofa, he stretched out on it again, picked up the TV remote from off of the cluttered table in front of the sofa, and started watching the video again.

  Chapter 46

  “It doesn't really matter whether you grip the arms of the dentist's chair or let your hands lie in your lap. The drill drills on.” C.S. Lewis

  “You’re going to have to reevaluate your finances,” Stiles lawyer explained. You’re no longer getting the salary from Holy Rock. The good news is that your contract states you will continue to receive an income equivalent to 30% of the salary you were paid at the time of your departure, being that your father is the founder of the church.”

  Stiles was quiet. He didn’t care if they didn’t pay him a dime. Money was of no interest to him now. Money couldn’t buy happiness. Money couldn’t heal his marriage. Money couldn’t bring Audrey back.

  “Are you listening to me?” his lawyer asked.

  “Yeah, sure. But I don’t care about any of that. Tell me how long before my divorce is final?”

  “If your wife doesn’t protest, we should be able to settle everything in four to six months.”

  “Why so long? I don’t want anything from her. She can have it all. The house, the car, all of it. Maybe that’ll bring her happiness. That’s all she ever wanted from me anyway; the lifestyle I could give her. Mitch,” he said, “I want this over and done with.”

  “I understand, and believe me, I’m going to make this as painless as possible. Your wife should be receiving a substantial sum of money from the accident, so she will be well taken care of.”

  Stiles frowned. His fist curled and his jawline flickered. “All at the expense of my daughter’s life.”

  “It wasn’t your wife’s fault. That tractor-trailer plowed into her.”

  “So you’re on her side?”

  “This has nothing to do with sides. It’s the truth of what happened. The only reason I brought that up was because in the divorce papers we are stating that your wife can only remain in the house if she is able to financially maintain the mortgage and taxes.”

  “Like I said, I don’t want anything, just my freedom.”

  “Of course. You know she still isn’t able to walk.”

  “And, you told me that for wha
t reason?”

  “For no reason, just letting you know.”

  “Who told you that? Leo?”

  “Yes. Speaking of Leo, he says you still won’t answer his calls and he’s been over here numerous times, but you refuse to answer the door. Stiles, my brother, this isn’t healthy. It’s been almost four months since─”

  Stiles pounced up from the sofa. “Don’t tell me how long it’s been, Mitch. Don’t you think I know how long my daughter’s been dead?”

  “I didn’t mean it like─”

  “Tell me, what did you mean then? My daughter has been dead for 109 days, 11 hours, 25 minutes, and,” he looked at the artistic clock hanging on the wall, “fourteen seconds.”

  “All I’m saying is, I wish you would get out. Fall is approaching. The weather outside has been perfect. Why don’t you go for a walk? When is the last time you visited your father?”

  Stiles remained quiet and pensive, as if he was digesting Mitch’s words.

  “I bet he would love to see you. And church…I know how much you love the church. Have you thought about going to one of the services?”

  “All I’ve thought about,” Stiles finally said, “is the loss of my little girl. I can’t think about my father, the church, money, nothing. I miss her, Mitch. I miss my little girl.”

  Stiles broke down and wept. His heavy sobs seemed like they made the walls of the townhome vibrate.

  Mitch embraced his client. “Man, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” is all Mitch could say.

  The knock on the door gave Mitch a much-needed reprieve and he rushed to answer it. Surprisingly, Stiles didn’t object.

  Mitch opened the door to Leo and Hezekiah. “Come on in,” Mitch said, with the sound of worry emanating from his voice tone.

  “He needs you.”

  The two men walked into the townhome and followed the sounds of Stiles’ sobbing. They both rushed to him and embraced him. Right away, Hezekiah started praying.

  “Stiles, man, let it out,” Leo told his friend. “It’s all right, bro. Let it out.”

  “Father God,” Hezekiah prayed. “Have mercy on my brother. You know the anguish he feels. You know how deep the hurt runs. You said you would be close to the brokenhearted, Father. You said you would rescue those whose spirits are crushed. Rescue my brother, Lord. Comfort him.”

  Hezekiah continued praying. Stiles’ sobs began to subside and Leo led him over to the chair to sit down.

  “Stiles,” Mitch said when Stiles finally stopped weeping. “I have everything I need to get things moving forward. I’m going to leave now. I have another appointment, but I’ll be in touch.”

  Stiles nodded.

  “Take care, my friend.” Mitch picked up his briefcase from off the table, nodded at Leo and Hezekiah, then left.

  ***

  Brooke pulled up in Detria’s driveway. She pushed the remote and drove her car inside. Before she could let the garage door down, a candy apple red Dodge Charger pulled in behind her.

  She got out of her car and walked around to the passenger’s side, opening the door for Detria, but keeping her eyes on the car.

  Skip got out of his car. “I want to see my son,” he said in a non-confronting voice.

  “Is that Skip?” Detria asked her sister.

  “Yes, and Detria, why don’t you just let him see Elijah. He is his father.”

  “I don’t want him to see my baby,” she countered. “Let the garage door down, and get me and Elijah out of the car.”

  It was too late for that because Skip came up to the car. He opened the back door and peered in at the round-faced little boy.

  “Why are you here? Can’t you leave well enough alone?” Detria asked in a pleading voice. If she was angry, it didn’t show, rather she sounded more like a frightened and wounded animal.

  “I’m not here to start anything, Detria. I just want to see my boy.” Skip unbuckled him from the car seat and picked him up. Holding him up like Mufusa held up his son in the Lion King, Skip studied the boy and pride spread across his face. Brooke stared in silence.

  “Can I come in?” he asked. “I want to spend some time with him.”

  “I…why don’t you come back tomorrow.”

  “Why? I’m here now? Come on, get out of the car. I won’t stay long. Brooke?” He looked at Brooke like he hoped she would speak up for him. She did.

  “Detria?” she looked at her sister. “Is it okay?”

  Detria slowly nodded.

  “Skip, give me a minute to get her chair out of the trunk and get her and Elijah inside. Okay?”

  “I’ll help you. What kind of chair is it?

  “Her wheelchair,” Brooke answered, eyeing him like he had asked a stupid question.

  “You still can’t walk?”

  Detria didn’t say one word in response.

  Brooke proceeded to walk to the back of the car. She popped the trunk and started getting the lightweight chair out of the car.

  “Let me help you,” Skip said, like he was coming out of a diabetic shock.

  “Give me my son,” Detria said bitterly.

  Skip walked around the front of the car and tried to put Elijah in his mother’s waiting arms. He paused when he realized that Detria had no use of her right arm.

  “Put him on this side,” she ordered without looking at him.

  Skip didn’t protest. He did as he was told, then he helped Brooke remove the wheelchair, steering it over to Detria’s door.

  “Thanks. I’ve got it from here.” Brooke gently removed Elijah from his mother’s arms and passed him back to Skip, who smiled as soon as he took hold of his son again.

  He took a couple of steps to get out of Brooke’s way, giving her room to help Detria get in the wheelchair.

  Skip was surprised to see how weak looking Detria was. She was never a large woman, but now she looked like skin and bones and he noticed that she couldn’t move her legs at all. He watched as she used her upper body and Brooke to maneuver from the car to the wheelchair. Her arm just dangled. He wondered if this was permanent? If it was, then there was no way she could properly care for his son.

  “So, is this why you wouldn’t let me in or answer my calls and text messages?”

  “What are you talking about?” Detria looked back over her shoulder as Brooke pushed the chair toward the door leading into the house.

  “Is that wheelchair permanent? And your arm? You can’t use it at all?”

  “I don’t believe my medical condition is any business of yours. Now, I’ve agreed to let you come in and spend some time with your son. Don’t push me, Skip.”

  “I’m just asking. I had no idea. That’s all.” He thought about the DNA kit he had in his car. Today he was going to find a way to swab his son’s mouth.

  “I left my phone in the car. Let me go get it. I’ll be right back,” he said while Brooke pushed Detria all the way into the house. “It’ll just take a quick second.” He hastily walked to his car, holding and talking to Elijah along the way. Unlocking his car, he opened the glove compartment and removed the test kit. He quickly used one hand to open it and put the Identigene components inside his pocket. He hurried into the house, feeling confident that today was his lucky day.

  “You can take him in the family room. It’s this way,” Brooke told him as she walked ahead of Skip.

  “Where is Detria?”

  “Oh, she’ll be back. She went to her room.”

  “How much longer is she going to be in a wheelchair?” He bounced a giggling Elijah up and down on his knee, but was anxious to hear Brooke’s answer.

  “We aren’t sure. The doctors say it could be a few months, which it’s already been, or it could be a year or more. Only God knows.

  “And her arm?”

  “She’ll never be able to use her arm again. The nerves were completely destroyed in the accident.”

  Skip looked horrified.

  “You didn’t know?”

  Skip shook his head. “No. She won�
�t see me, and she ignores my calls. When I come over here, she won’t let me in. I’m just glad I caught y’all today. All I want is to see my son, you know?”

  “She’s going through a lot. She’s depressed and she’s grieving. Not being able to use her arm, or walk, is added pressure. I’m praying that she will make it through this. But honestly, I’m worried about her.”

  Brooke didn’t understand why she was pouring her feelings out to Skip, but at this point, it didn’t matter. Everything she said was true, and maybe, just maybe Detria would allow Skip to step up and be a father to Elijah.

  “Who? How is she taking care of Elijah?”

  “She has her family and a full time live-in caregiver.”

  Elijah began to fuss.

  “You’re ready for your bottle? Huh, sweetie,” Brooke crooned. “First, we need to get you changed.” She reached for the baby.

  “Do you mind? I’d like to change him and feed him.”

  Brooke raised her eyes in a pleasant surprise. “Uh, are you sure you know how to change a diaper?” She smiled slightly.

  “I used to change my little brothers and sisters when I was growing up.”

  “Okay, then, I guess it’ll be fine. You go on in the family room. His pampers and wipes are in there in his pack and play. While you change him, I’m going to peek in on Detria, then I’ll fix his bottle and bring it to you.”

  “Cool,” Skip answered. This was the perfect chance and he was going to take it. He kissed Elijah on the cheek and carried him into the family room. He looked around to make sure no one was around. He pulled out the DNA kit, opened it, and swiftly swabbed the little boy’s cheek with each of the three swabs, put them inside the envelope, sealed it, and put it back inside his pocket. He did the same for himself. After he finished, he smiled as he changed Elijah’s pamper, and waited on Brooke to bring his bottle. In two days, he would know, for certain, if this precious little boy was indeed his son.

  Chapter 47

  “Holding on is believing that there’s only a past; letting go is knowing that there’s a future.”

  Daphne Kingma

  “It’s time to come back to the church. It’s time to come back to the Lord, Son,” Pastor told Stiles.