by H. H. Fowler
“Invite strangers into your home and wash their clothes…”
“Stop the nonsense, Honey. You are not a stranger. You are my wife. I married you to help you, but you won’t let me take care of you, and you won’t move in as I’d pleaded with you. Things need to change.”
“Well…” Honey wrung her hands, uncertain of how to respond to Abraham’s generosity. “You are too needy. Always wanting something and it gives me the creeps. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“No.”
“Then I’m sorry for you, because you’ve been lied to.” She showed those coffee-stained teeth again, as she made her way toward the bathroom. She paused briefly and let out a throaty cough. “Oh, I almost forgot – some kid stopped by the last time I was here.”
Abraham’s heart ran to the bottom of his feet. “And you’re just now telling me this? What kid?”
“Oh hell, Abraham, I don’t know. He didn’t leave a name.”
“What did he want?”
“He ran off before I could ask him,” she chuckled, this time, waking up a chain of dry hacking coughs. She cupped her breasts and then shook them as she’d done that Friday night. “I guess these babies frightened the color out of his face.”
Instinctively, Abraham walked over to the window and yanked the curtains closed. “I’ve told you to lock the door behind you whenever you come in.”
“My, my, my, aren’t we in a little bit of trouble. Haven’t you told them the truth about us, Abraham? You naughty little boy. I guess my moving in now is out of the question.”
“We’re married,” Abraham spat.
“Yeah? What fool would believe you married a prostitute?”
Abraham had an instant mood change, allowing his imagination to get the best of him. He must have been in the shower during the time of the visit. It could have been any one of the young men who came to his place for counseling. But all of them were on a schedule to avoid them clashing with his personal life. In spite of wanting to dismiss the worst-case scenario, everything inside of him told him the kid was Dominic Housten – his beloved protégé. That would explain his recent behavior – the avoidance and the unexplained disaffection. He would have to tell Dominic the truth. As his mentor, he owed him that much.
Chapter Six
Sanchez Jamal Adrian Thompson. That was his full name, and the one his mother gave him when she'd had him at sixteen. A well-trained girl who'd grown up in a Christian home, but had ended up running with the wrong crowd, she met and fell head over heels in love with a thug twice her age. He got her pregnant and then disappeared. A year after she'd given birth to Sanchez, she had his sister, A'moree, fathered by a different thug who'd shown great potential as a father, but had been gunned down before his daughter was born. Unfortunately, both Sanchez and his sister never knew what it felt like to be raised by the men who'd planted their seeds in their mother.
Sanchez described himself as a young man who made things happen and did not wait to see where the chips might fall. Growing up on the island of New Providence, a.k.a, Nassau, was not a picnic. He had his struggles, especially growing up in an area where violence and crime ruled. Even the Bahamian police were terrified of coming through his corner. If his mother hadn't moved to another neighborhood, and hadn't changed his school, he was convinced he would have either been in jail, or six feet under the earth. But he worked hard, excelled in his education, and received a partial scholarship to study in the USA.
He'd recently finished his B.A. in engineering and was currently in the market looking for a job. His part-time job as a telemarketer helped him pay the rent, but it wasn’t enough to handle everything else. If it weren’t for his sister helping him out every month, he would have been pulling the hairs out of his head by now. He didn't plan on going home to the Bahamas any time soon, but planned on working for a while in order to get some experience, and if things went the way he wanted, he might get married and raise his family in Tampa. It was not that he didn't love his home in the Bahamas, but in the United States, opportunities were much easier to come by.
His sister, A'moree, was coming in from Bahamas the next day to spend the rest of the week with him and he was excited about it. He hadn't seen any of his family in two years and he couldn't wait to catch up on old times. Her arrival reminded him, his truck was down, and he hadn't any means to pick up A'moree from the airport except to ask Dominic. He reached for his cell phone and texted:
Dom, I need a favor. My sister is comin in from Nassau tomorrow morning. She’ll need a ride from the airport. Let a brutha know if you down with that.
9:22a.m.
The sweet scent of cinnamon subtly found its way up the wooden stairs of her mother’s two-bedroom suburban cottage and brushed beneath Michelle’s nose – awakening those desires she’d stanchly suppressed for two years. Her eyes popped open, and she was suddenly surrounded with a sense of unfamiliarity. The flying swans in the tattered wallpaper and the jarring paint of the room’s décor, however, immediately reminded her of her decision to abandon the warm mattress that belonged to her and Leroy. She sat up at the sound of her mother’s humming voice.
“Child, you stubborn like your father. I want you to know God don’t like ugly.” Delores pushed a tray of cinnamon biscuits, bacon, and eggs in front of her daughter. “Take my advice; go home to that man and patch things up before that woman show you how it’s done.”
Michelle refused the tray of food. “That’s unhealthy.”
“I don’t have the energy to fix something else.” Her mother dropped the tray on a dresser.
“Most times I skip breakfast. What time is it anyway?”
“I don’t know, child. I don’t keep up.” She sank down into the rocking chair that was next to the bed. “You know how it is around here. Work, work, work.”
The sparkle in Michelle’s mother’s eyes had long since faded, leaving behind a mist of nostalgia. The years of hard work she’d endured from taking care of a husband and four children had finally taken its toll. And for a while, her father’s sudden death had left her mother in a state of despondency. Delores had always told her children that their father had been a good man.
“But, I’ve told you repeatedly, you don’t have to stay here by yourself,” Michelle said to her mother. “We have enough room in our home to give you your privacy.”
Delores waved her off. “I’m seventy-one, Michelle. I’m on my way out of this world.”
“All the reason for you to be near your family.”
“No, child. I’m gonna die right here where I’ve lived the last forty years.”
Michelle grew silent. She didn’t like when her mother brought up the subject of dying.
“Don’t look so grim,” her mother said. “You don’t expect me to hang around here forever. That’s why you should make everyday count. Leroy is a good man and you had better start treating him as such.”
“You would say that; you always liked him.”
“That man has taken care of you and those children from the day he took you out of our home.”
“Mother, I have never doubted Leroy’s ability to provide for his family. He handles his responsibilities quite well.”
“Then what’s the problem, child?”
“Everything is a problem these days.” Michelle looked into her mother’s eyes, now creased in crow’s feet. She held back from her mother some of what really bothered her. “What do you think I should do?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. Do what is right for those boys.”
“Easier said than done.” Michelle became uptight all of a sudden. “You should have heard how he defended that woman to me. He practically bit off my head for her. I think he’s lying to me, mother – you know, about the affair.”
“I’ll tell you the truth, I don’t blame the man,” Delores deadpanned and then pointed at Michelle. “You’re a fool for letting him get away with it.”
Michelle raised her eyebrows, shocked by her mother’s candidness
. “I’m confused. Which side are you on?”
“Your father, crazy as he was, warned you about those Paxton men, but you still went ahead and married one of them. So deal with the blows as they come. These days you can’t afford to trifle.”
“Mother, I am not going home until Leroy calls and apologizes to me! He owes me that much. He spoke to me as if I meant nothing to–”
“Room for the devil, my dear child, room for the devil! I would have called you a moron, but you’re my daughter.”
“Mother! Your words are mind-boggling.”
“Good. That outta knock some sense into you. Call those boys and let them know what’s happening.”
“I’m sure Leroy told them where I am.” Michelle was not sure that was true. She looked to her mother again for confirmation.
“Don’t look at me!” Delores said.
“Okay, mother, I’ll call!”
Chapter Seven
“Boy, you better recognize who’s in charge!” That voice belonged distinctively to nineteen-year-old Eric Paxton, who was celebrating an early shot in a fierce one-on-one basketball game against his younger brother.
“It’s like taking candy from a baby,” he teased Sean, knowing how much his brother despised it. He was in triple threat position –feet apart, slightly staggering. “Come, take me; let me see what you’ve got.”
“You’re a dimwit, you know that? Your big mouth gonna mess up your game,” Sean said.
Playing defense, Sean gave his undivided attention to every maneuver. He was two years younger than Eric, but he towered over him by a much heavily debated one inch, which he believed gave him bragging rights as a reputable contender.
Eric tried to fake a drive to the hoop but Sean showed a level of prudence and did not fall for it. It tickled Eric to see how determined his little brother was to beat him. It was just 8:30 in the morning, but beads of sweat had already begun to appear on the top of their clean-shaven heads – younger versions of their father.
“You think you ready for me, boy?” Eric knew his teasing would get Sean off-balance more than anything else, so he took it up another notch. “This is a man’s game. Let me teach you something about being a professional…”
“Do what you gonna do. You talking smack won’t move me.”
“Doesn’t matter; I’ll school you on how it’s done.”
Angling his position, this time Eric employed a convincing fake shot and, as he had anticipated, Sean leaped off the ground and into the air. Seizing the opportunity, Eric skillfully did a one-eighty around him, first to the left and then to the right, allowing the ball to spring from his hands. It connected with the backboard Leroy had installed for them when they were kids. It took a decisive spin on the rim before tipping into the basket.
Eric pumped his fist in the air. “Now that’s how it’s done, my boy! You had better recognize!”
Sean released one of those Paxton’s toothy grins. “You stole that from me!”
“Boy, you crazy. Get a life!” Eric took a break to answer his cell that had been incessantly buzzing in his pocket.
“Speak your mind, beautiful.” He knew it was their mother by the number on his Caller ID.
“My handsome boy.” Michelle still could not get used to that baritone in Eric’s voice. “You’re still home? What time do classes start?”
“You didn’t call to check up on me, did you? How’s New York?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Dad said you had to fly to New York.”
Michelle was dumbstruck. Leroy had lied to the boys. “Where is your father?”
“I don’t know. He’s not here.” Eric tossed the ball to Sean, who proceeded to do some lay-ups. “What’s going on with you two?”
Michelle felt comfortable sharing almost anything with her children. They had a better relationship with her than with Leroy. It was his fault anyway, she decided. He never stayed home. But one thing she didn’t practice was being untruthful. “Eric, I am not in New York. I am staying here at your grandmother’s.”
Eric looked away. He should have known their father had deceived them. It was his modus operandi.
“Eric, are you still there?”
“Yes, beautiful, I’m still here. When are you coming home?”
“I don’t know. Maybe another day or so.” Michelle felt crushed at her own words. “Can you handle that? I need time to clear my head.”
“We don’t need a supervisor.”
“I know – I just need to make sure.”
“I love you too, beautiful, do what you gatta’ do.”
Michelle smiled. Her sons were all grown up; they didn’t need her anymore. Her daughter, Tayah, who was married and had a life of her own, was the total opposite.
“I will call you guys tomorrow,” she said.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know, but I want to.”
Eric rolled his eyes. “Okay, look like I lost this one.”
Michelle laughed. “Bye, honey. Tell Sean that I love him.”
“Are you for real?”
“You are crazy, you know that? Bye, honey.” She cut the connection.
Eric waited a bit and then punched in some numbers on his cell. His classes at University of South Florida were officially cancelled. The voice on the other end appeared to have been expecting the call. She answered in a rather crisp tone, considering how early it was in the morning.
“The coast is clear. You wanna come over?” Eric was always the one to make the calls. “Make it quick, and bring someone with you.”
He ended the call and then yelled at Sean. “Make that your last shot. We have company coming over.”
Chapter Eight
Tayah Paxton-Benjamin had always aspired to be the best that she could be. She saw the big picture of her life, and was determined to achieve her goals despite any obstacles she might encounter. Now at twenty-five, by secular standards she was an accomplished business guru. By spiritual assessment, she was a pillar of strength to the youth, not only at her father’s church, but also to young people who crossed her path. She believed in fortifying them with the skills required to survive in a world that had a reputation of being cruel. With God’s help, she stuck with them until she was satisfied with their progress. Their destinies were important to her.
Although her work with the youth brought her immense joy and fulfillment, it could not take away the fact that she wanted to have a baby. Even before she’d gotten married, she had spent her time imagining what it would be like to have a child – how he or she would look – or, whose personality the baby would inherit. The women in her family were fertility machines. It seemed whenever they tried, they were successful at getting pregnant. Her grandmothers, both paternal and maternal, had had four children. Her mother had three; even two of her younger cousins had at least one.
It was hard to go home and listen to a husband who blamed her for their childlessness. He made her feel useless and embarrassed to be a woman. In her moments of quietude, his words stung more than when she argued with him. It gave her time to reflect on what he’d said, which caused her to walk around with a sense of emptiness. Three years of marriage had not yielded the happiness she had anticipated.
“Did you get the opportunity to read the change of events in the memo? I know you just got in.”
Tayah peered up from her Asus notebook and noticed Ian Laing sticking his head into the boardroom. He was in charge of all the event coordinators of the Tampa Bay Black Heritage Festival.
“About the MLK Leadership Breakfast?” Tayah wanted to confirm. “I was about to wrap up the details on it.”
“It has been postponed. Our keynote speaker was involved in a serious accident on I-275.”
Tayah closed her notebook, her eyes staring in disbelief. She’d jokingly told the committee that things were going too smoothly for something not to happen. “How bad is it?”
“Not sure of the details. She was taken to the hospital in cr
itical condition.”
“That’s sad.” Tayah released a sigh. “I guess you’re gonna need me to hit the communication channels. How long is it postponed? You realize a good bit of our out-of-town guests are already here.”
“Shouldn’t be more than three days.” Ian smiled at how overly concerned Tayah seemed. “Don’t worry. We have a great line-up of other speakers who are quite as knowledgeable about our theme. The challenge for us is getting one of them to fit the schedule. The other events should make a good cover. I’m sure our guests wouldn’t miss an hour or two from the celebrations. It lasts for ten whole days!”
“I should have kept my big mouth shut.”
“Stuff happens, Tayah. No need to take the blame for it.”
“I’ll send her some flowers on behalf of the committee.”
“Yes, please do. Thank you!”
Stuff happens. Ian’s words resonated with her for the moment. But why did stuff happen? Tayah thought. To be more precise, why did things like this happen to her? Why did she have to be the only female in her family who could not get pregnant? Stuff happens. Ian sounded like her mother, who was quick to tell Tayah that stuff happened for a reason – that it was God’s sovereign plan that controlled and influenced the outcome of a situation.
He was the One who intricately weaved the plots of human existence. The immensity of the concept only drew Tayah to questions that were more painful. Sometimes it got to the point where she found it difficult to accept. She, of course, loved God and believed in what He stood for, but the methodology of His ways baffled her at times. Why had He subjected her to such a reproach? Why had He restrained her from the joys of motherhood? Irony had no respect of person. She had dedicated her life to encouraging others, but now that she was faced with a dilemma of her own, she found herself needing encouragement.
She picked up her phone and dialed a number she knew by heart.
“What are your plans? Can we meet for lunch so we can talk?”