by Cheryl Faye
Washing her hands at the double sink vanity, she then reached into the medicine cabinet and removed the aspirin bottle. Taking the rinse cup from the counter top, she filled it with water and returned to Stefàn’s side.
“Here, baby,” she said as she squatted next to him.
Placing the cup on the floor beside her, she opened the aspirin bottle and removed three. “Take these.”
Still feeling the effects of his binge, Stefàn’s movements were slow. Finally, reaching for the tablets she had in her hand, he put them all in his mouth at once.
“Here.”
She handed him the cup of water and he emptied it. Dropping the cup unceremoniously onto the floor, he leaned his head against the mattress and closed his eyes.
“Baby, don’t you want to get back in bed?” Charisse asked.
“I wanna die,” he lamented without opening his eyes.
“I don’t want you to die. What would I do if you died?”
He opened his eyes and looked at her.
“I’m damaged goods, Risi.”
“No you’re not. You’re my husband and I love you.”
“Why? I can’t give you the babies you want. I’ll never—”
“I don’t care about that,” she cut him off. “What’s important to me is you. Us. Don’t you know that you’re all I need? We’re gonna be all right, honey. Don’t you know how blessed we are to have each other?”
“But I know how much you wanted—”
“There are many things I’ve wanted in my life but haven’t always gotten and I’m still okay. Look at me. I’m still okay. I’ve got what’s important.” Cradling his face in her hands, she continued. “I’ve got my husband, my family, my friends… We have a beautiful home. We’ve got each other. I’m not going anywhere and I’m not going to let you go either. We’re going to get past this. We’ve got so much to be thankful for, don’t you see?”
Stefàn stared at her, trying to figure out if she was for real or just a figment of his imagination. His mind still foggy from his alcoholic haze, he wasn’t sure if she was speaking from the heart or simply to cheer him up.
“Come on, baby. Get up off this floor. I’ll call Carrie and let her know you won’t be in today. I’m going to stay here, too, and make sure you’re okay.”
With her help, they were able to get him back onto the bed.
Pulling the covers up to his chin, Charisse sat down beside him and kissed his forehead. “I love you,” she tenderly stated.
“I love you, Risi,” he reciprocated as his eyes filled.
“Get some sleep, baby. When you wake up, I’ll run you a nice bath and you can sit in the Jacuzzi and soak for a while. Then I’ll fix you something light to eat, okay?”
He nodded.
When she rose to leave the room, he reached for her hand. “Risi.”
“Yes, baby?”
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head and smiled sadly. “No. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I’M ANGRY WITH YOU RIGHT NOW, GOD. I don’t know if I have any right to be, but I am. There are so many things I want to say to You but I don’t even know where to start. Where’s Your grace now? Where’s Your mercy? Is it because of all those years I was so careless about other people’s feelings? Other women’s feelings? I know I’ve used so many women for my personal satisfaction. I realize how selfish I was. If I never asked Your forgiveness before, I’m asking for it now. Please. Please, Lord.”
Tears streamed down Stefàn’s face as he knelt by the side of his bed and pleaded to God.
The effects of his previous night’s binge had been slept off. No longer sick to the stomach from alcohol or struggling with a pounding head, now he warred with emptiness, as though the most important part of his soul had been wrenched from his body.
“What kind of man can I be if I can’t even give my wife a child? I can give her anything except the one thing she wants most. I love her, God, so much. How can I look into her beautiful eyes, knowing how disappointed she must be with me? I know You can do anything, God. I know You can...” His sobs broke free from his breaking heart. “God, I know nothing is too hard for You. Please, fix me. Fix me, God.”
Charisse stood silently outside the door of their bedroom, tearfully listening to her husband’s heartfelt entreaty. She sent up her own silent prayer. I love him so much, Lord. Please take his hurt away. Please wrap your comforting arms around him. Please bless him with Your peace, Lord. Let him see how much I need him and love him. I don’t care if we never have a child. I just don’t him to hurt anymore.
Not wanting Stefàn to see how upset she was, and even more, not wanting to interrupt his very personal moment with God, she turned and went back downstairs to the kitchen.
Since he was awake, she decided that she’d make him a fruit smoothie instead of anything too heavy just yet since she was unsure how his stomach might feel. This time when she started back up the stairs, she purposely tried to make as much noise as possible so he’d know she was coming.
Entering the bedroom, she found him standing at his bureau.
“Hi, baby. I was hoping you’d be up. I made you a banana smoothie. They say they’re the perfect remedy for a hangover. How do you feel?” she asked.
“Hi, honey. I’m okay.”
Placing the glass on the side table, she moved in front of him and wrapped him in a tender embrace.
Stefàn eagerly reciprocated her hug, kissing her atop her head.
Looking up at him, she asked, “Want to share a bubble bath?”
He smiled sadly but replied, “That would be nice.”
“Julian brought your car back a couple of hours ago.”
“Where was it?”
“At the bar where he found you last night,” she told him.
Stefàn shook his head in disgust. “I’m sorry, baby. I must’ve really showed out last night, huh?”
“No, actually, you were pretty docile.” She smiled up at him and added, “You shouldn’t drink, though.”
Unable to stifle his chuckle, “Don’t worry. I won’t be doing that again. What time is it anyway?”
“Six-forty.”
“P.M.?”
When she nodded in the affirmative, he mused, “I slept the whole day away.”
“You needed it.” She moved out of his embrace and reached for the smoothie, picking it up from the side table. “Here, baby, drink this. I’ll go run the tub. If you want, I’ll order something in when we get out.”
Minutes later, Charisse reclined comfortably against Stefàn’s form in their oversized whirlpool tub.
“Do you think I should get a second opinion, Risi?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And if I get the same report?”
“We’ll just… We’ll just give it to God and leave it there.”
“I think He’s punishing me for the way I used to live. It’s not fair that you have to suffer for what I might have done, though.”
“The only suffering I feel is because of how this has affected you.” Charisse repositioned herself in the tub so she could face him. “Honey, it’s so important to me that you know I am not disappointed in you. If it turns out that we never have a child, I’ll be okay with that as long as we’re together. As long as it doesn’t affect the way we love each other. I still believe, no matter what the doctors say, that God is going to bless us with a child. We can’t always figure out why He does what He does. And like you said the other day, our time is not the same as His time. Maybe there’s something He wants us to learn before He makes us parents. I don’t know. I don’t even think we should be trying to speculate on why He does what He does the way He does it. We’re just not that smart,” she said with a slight laugh. Placing a sudsy hand on his face, she lovingly leaned in and kissed him. “You are the man God selected for me to spend the rest of my life with and I love you so much. I believe as long as we don’t turn our backs on Him, He will bless us with the desires of our hearts.”
“I’m a little angry with Him, right now, Risi,” Stefàn admitted.
“I think He can handle it. Just don’t stay angry, baby. We need to stay in prayer about this, but we need to never stop thanking Him for the ways He has blessed us already. He’s given us so much. His Word promises that anything we ask for in His name will be given to us. I believe that.”
“I want to believe that, too. Pray for me, Risi. I need all the prayers I can get right now,” Stefàn said.
“I will never stop praying for you, my sweet man.”
Pulling her into his arms, Stefàn kissed his wife as though his life depended on it.
THEY BROKE THE NEWS TO THEIR PARENTS ON CHRISTMAS DAY.
Damaris cried. Mike asked Stefàn, “How are you doing, son?”
Looking over at Charisse before answering, he reached for her. Pressing his lips to the back of her hand, he answered, “We’re dealing with it. Not really much else we can do.”
“Have you considered adoption at all?” Mike then asked.
Shaking his head, Stefàn replied, “We’re going to wait on God. If He leads us in that direction, we’ll talk about that then. Right now, we’re just trying to get past this present reality.”
Seeing how upset his mother was, Stefàn moved over to her and wrapped his arms around her. “Mom, I know you must be disappointed.”
“Oh, baby, it’s not that. Of course I would love to have grandchildren from you and Risi, but I’m more concerned about you. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. I’m okay, Mom.”
“We could use your prayers, though,” Charisse added with a smile.
Her parents were equally saddened by the news.
When they were alone, Barbara asked Charisse, “How’s he handling this, baby?”
“He was devastated at first, but he’s getting better. We’re going to another doctor after the first of the year for a second opinion, but if we get the same diagnosis, we’re just going to wait and see. Dr. Chase didn’t say it was impossible for us to conceive, just that it was highly unlikely.”
“Would you ever consider adoption?” her mother asked.
“I don’t know. I mean I know there are hundreds of children out there who need good homes, but we haven’t thought that far into the future yet. We’re just going to take it one day at a time and stay in prayer about it.”
“I’ll pray for you, too.”
“Thanks, Mommy. We can never have too many people praying for us.”
AFTER RECEIVING THE SAME REPORT Upon seeking a second opinion, Stefàn tried to do as Charisse suggested. Give it to God and leave it there. Wishing he were as faithful as she was, he, nevertheless, struggled with trying to figure out why this was happening to them.
Although he tried to put up a good front for Charisse’s sake, she saw right through his charade.
He came home from work one evening to find her waiting for him on the living room sofa. The house was dark, except for one lamp on the end table near her.
“Hey baby, why you sitting in the dark?” he asked as he walked over to kiss her.
Leaning up to receive his buss, she said, “We need to talk, Stefàn.”
“What’s up?” he asked, taking a seat next to her.
“I thought we agreed that we would let God work this out for us?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been putting on a good show for the last few weeks, but I want you to stop worrying about this.”
“I’m not,” he lied.
Seeing through his deception, her look was scolding and penetrating.
She knows me too well. “I’ve tried, baby.”
“Do you realize this is affecting your sleep? You’ve been tossing and turning, talking in your sleep and you wake up exhausted every morning. It’s beginning to show on your face, baby. I can’t have you walking around looking all busted, now,” she said good naturedly.
“I’ve been keeping you awake, too, huh?”
“Yeah. Besides, do you know it’s been almost three weeks since we’ve made love. I miss you.”
“I’m sorry. I know it’s selfish to think of this as a personal assault against my manhood, but that’s how I feel. I can’t help it. I feel less than—”
“You’re not and I don’t think of you that way,” she interrupted before he could finish his statement. “Sweetheart, you’re the only one who thinks that. You have the power to believe that God is punishing you for something you’ve done in the past or preparing you for something really great in your future. Nothing I can say or do will ever convince you otherwise. You have always been—since we first met—the most confident person I’ve ever known. You’ve always been sure of yourself in everything you do. You’ve never let anyone tell you that you couldn’t be something or do something that you have your heart set on. This is no different. If you believe that you…that we will never have a child…we won’t. You have to believe it right here,” she said as she pressed her hand against his heart. “Hebrews 11:1 says, ‘Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.’ If you don’t have faith that God can open doors that no man can, it won’t happen.”
Stefàn pondered Charisse’s words, taking them to heart. Staring into her eyes, he saw the love he had come to depend on radiating out to him and he clung to it. “You’re right. I’ve let this whole thing knock the wind out of me and I’ve been struggling to catch my breath ever since.” He reached out and pulled her into a tight embrace. “You are so good for me. I don’t know what I would do without you, Risi. And you’re right. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself and get busy living the life He’s blessed me with. I’m sorry for neglecting you, baby.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me, honey. I just need my man back.”
He rose suddenly from the sofa, but leaned down and swept her into in his arms.
“What are you doing?” she asked with a giggle.
“I’ve got some catching up to do. I hope you’re ready.”
“Well, if I’m not, I’d better get ready, huh?”
“I know that’s right.” Before heading toward the stairs, he kissed her softly and said, “Thank you for reminding me of who I am.”
CHAPTER 23
BACK TO LIFE
The self-defense seminar that Stefàn taught last year at the church was so well-received by the members that he was asked to repeat it twice a year. Being the expert martial artist that he was, and remembering what an impact the training had on his life as a youngster, Stefàn asked Pastor Young if it would be possible to begin a regular training program for the youth ministry. Not only would it be a useful skill that the children could carry with them for the remainder of their lives if they chose to stick with it, but the discipline required and gained by the study was invaluable.
Pastor Young, though agreeable to implementing the program, was concerned about the funds needed to be successful with it. Stefàn assured him that cost would not be an issue. Recruiting Julian, his brother, Devin, and Barretto as volunteer teachers, by the end of July they were given access to the fellowship hall on Tuesday and Thursday evenings to hold classes.
Initially, only ten students ranging in age from seven to twelve enrolled, but when the other kids learned how much fun the ten pioneers were having, they asked to join the class. Ultimately, they ended up with twenty-eight students ranging in age from seven to seventeen. That being the case, Stefàn broke the training up into three groups by age—seven to ten years old; eleven to fourteen years old; and fifteen to seventeen years old—and implemented six-week sessions. At the completion of two sessions the children were then tested and ranked. Stefàn taught the youngest group with Devin overseeing the mid-aged kids and Julian and Barretto pairing up for the oldest kids since they were the largest group. Noticing how dedicated the children were to the martial arts training, Stefàn donated uniforms to each one on the condition that if they decided to drop out of the program, they would return it so som
eone else could use it.
One of Stefàn’s students was a boy by the name of Jared Malik Mills. Jared was a high-spirited seven-year-old with an eagerness to learn and play. Jared lived with his grandmother, Mrs. Mills, a widow in her mid-seventies. Jared was the child of Mrs. Mills’ only daughter, Margaret, who’d died when Jared was two years old. The boy had no real memory of his mother; he knew only what his grandmother told him about her. Jared’s father had never been a part of his life.
Loving the child’s energy and enthusiasm, Stefàn took a quick liking to Jared when he began the martial arts lessons because his rambunctious personality reminded him of himself when he was a child. The boy was small for his size, but he was smart and quick-witted, and always respectful. Whenever Stefàn saw him on Sundays at church, Jared greeted him vociferously.
By Charisse’s and Stefàn’s second wedding anniversary, the martial arts program had been up and running for nine months and each of the students enrolled in this current session were doing well.
One Sunday in early May, Stefàn approached Mrs. Mills after service. Jared had missed the preceding week’s lessons.
“Mrs. Mills,” he greeted her cheerfully and with a warm embrace. “How are you?”
“Oh, hello, Stefàn. I’m doing pretty well. How are you, son?”
“I’m well. Is everything okay? I missed Jared last week at class.”
“I know. I’m sorry. He was upset with me, too. It’s just that sometimes I’m so tired by the time I get through with him with his homework and everything, I don’t always have the energy to bring him out. That boy wears me out sometimes,” she confessed.
“Oh, you should have called me. I’d have come and picked him up. As a matter a fact, why don’t I do that? I’ll come get him and bring him to class. He can bring his books and I’ll make sure he gets his homework done and gets something to eat. That way you can get a break in the evenings. By the time I bring him home, he’ll be ready to take a bath and get in bed,” Stefàn suggested.
Finding the idea appealing and intrusive all at once, Mrs. Mills shrugged, “I couldn’t have you go to that trouble.”