Losing It

by Zaria Garrison

  Leon looked at his brother. Jackson was the largest of his siblings at six feet, six inches tall. His body was all muscle, as he worked out religiously every day, but Jackson was also as thick around the middle as a large barrel.

  Leon shook his head. “Neither of us is small enough to get inside that playhouse, Jackson. Besides, I don’t want to violate her trust by searching through her things.”

  “Leon, we have to do something.”

  “I agree, but even if we find something, that’s not going to stop her from getting more. I just wanted you to know and understand what I’m dealing with right now. Sharmaine being drunk isn’t even on the top of the list.”

  Jackson walked back over to his brother. “You’re right, man. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Leon shook his head again. “You wanna stay for dinner?

  Consuela should be back from the market soon. I think she’s cooking chicken tonight.”

  “Naw, I have some stuff to do,” Jackson answered. Leon stood up and walked his brother to the front door. They exchanged a strong hug, then Jackson got into his car and left.

  A loud pounding in her head awakened Sharmaine suddenly. Feeling disoriented, she sat up and looked around her living room. The drum line inside her head beat louder and louder, until she realized it was someone at her front door. She dragged herself off of the couch and went to open it.

  “Jackson, what are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Still sleeping it off, huh, Sharmaine?” He brushed past her and walked into the condo without an invitation.

  “What are you talking about? Why are you here?” She followed him inside and plopped down on her couch.

  “I think I left my cell phone here,” he answered. He walked around the living room, searching, and then went into the kitchen. He found his phone lying on the kitchen counter. Picking it up, he checked the log for missed calls. There were none, so he returned to the living room and a confused Sharmaine.

  “I found it,” he said.

  “How did your phone get here?” she asked.

  “You are really out of it, aren’t you?” He stared at her in disbelief, shaking his head at her. Then he spoke loudly and slowly, emphasizing each syllable. “I was here earlier, Sharmaine. I came to pick up my niece and nephew.”

  Sharmaine suddenly remembered that her children were there that morning. “Oh my God, where are Rodney and Jeanna?” She looked around the room frantically.

  “I took them home to their father. I guess you were too drunk to remember any of that.”

  “I don’t drink. I’m sick. A little while after the children arrived, I felt nauseous and hot all over. Maybe I’ve got a bug or a virus. What makes you think I’m drunk?”

  Without answering her, Jackson stomped into the kitchen and retrieved one of the empty wine bottles from her trash can. He brought it to the living room and shoved it at her. “Who drank this? Do you have poltergeist, Sharmaine?”

  “Where did you get that?” she asked.

  “I pulled it out of my behind,” he answered sarcastically.

  She stared at him, still confused.

  “It was in the kitchen, in the trash with the others.” He threw it on the sofa beside her.

  Sharmaine was stunned. She didn’t remember buying any wine, and she most certainly didn’t remember drinking it. Closing her eyes, she tried desperately to recall what had happened that day. The last thing she remembered was playing video games with Rodney and feeling nauseated. The rest of the afternoon was a complete blur.

  “Jackson, are the kids okay? Why did you come get them?”

  “They’re fine. They called Leon because they were worried about their sick mother. I can’t believe you did this. They love you, Sharmaine. Even after everything else, those kids still love you. Then you go and ruin their visit by getting drunk and passing out.” He looked at her with disgust.

  “Jackson, I am not drunk. I don’t drink, she protested.

  “Tell it to someone who cares.” He walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  Sharmaine sat on her couch feeling lost and confused. Her mouth felt dry and pasty, so she decided to go to the kitchen for some water. When she did, she noticed the trash can and all of the empty wine bottles and beer cans. “Where did those come from?” she wondered aloud.

  She opened the refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of water. Feeling woozy, she took it back to the living room and sat down on the couch again. As soon as she did, another knock came at her front door.

  “Who is it?” she called out. She immediately regretted it as the sound of her voice caused a thunderstorm inside her head.

  “It’s Keisha.”

  “Come in,” Sharmaine called out then lay back on the sofa, trying to ease the throbbing in her temples.

  Using her key, Keisha unlocked the door and walked in. “Are the kids ready to go?” she asked. Suddenly, she noticed Sharmaine lying on the sofa. “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know. I think I have a virus or something,” Sharmaine answered with her eyes still closed.

  “Where are the kids? Do you want me to take them home now? I’m sorry I missed your call earlier. I turned off my phone when I went into the movies.”

  Sharmaine sat up. “Here we go again. I didn’t call you earlier, Keisha.”

  Keisha looked puzzled. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. She turned the screen to Sharmaine to show her the missed call.

  “Maybe it was one of the kids.” Sharmaine sighed. She lay back on the couch and closed her eyes again.

  Keisha stood watching her for a moment. She noticed the empty wine bottle lying on the sofa. “Um, so where are the kids?”

  “They’re gone. I got sick, so they called Leon. He apparently sent Jackson to get them.”

  “You didn’t drink that wine while they were here, did you?”

  Sharmaine bolted upright on the sofa, suddenly remembering the empty bottle. “Of course I didn’t. My trash can is full of these things and empty beer cans. Keisha, do you have any idea where they came from?”

  Keisha slowly shook her head. She sat down on the sofa next to Sharmaine and took her hands into hers. “Honey, I’m worried about you. I think we should get you to a doctor.”

  Pulling her hands back, Sharmaine stared at her. “I told you it’s just a bug. Just tell me where that stuff came from.”

  “You honestly don’t remember?”

  “Remember what? Just tell me, Keisha.”

  “You had a party last night. My guess is those are the leftovers.”

  Sharmaine shook her head. “I did not. What are you talking about?”

  “Sharmaine, you had a party last night. I told you it was a bad idea with the kids coming this morning, but you insisted on partying with your new friends.”

  “I don’t remember any of that. I was home alone last night. I watched a movie. I talked to you on the phone, and then I went to bed early.” Sharmaine laid her head in her hands and began crying.

  “These blackouts and memory lapses are getting more frequent, Sharmaine. I think you should consider seeing a doctor.”

  Sharmaine nodded her head and wiped her tears on her hands. “Will you call Dr. Ray for me on Monday and make an appointment? His number is in my address book.”

  “He’s a family doctor, Sharmaine. I think you need to see a neurosurgeon. I know one I can call for you.”

  “Sure, that’s fine.” Sharmaine sniffed loudly. She curled her feet up under her on the sofa. “Keisha, can I tell you something? It’s crossed my mind, but I was afraid to say it out loud.”

  “Sure, honey. What is it?”

  “I’ve been thinking. I mean, with the blackouts, there are so many situations and days that I just can’t remember. I’m doing things and going places, then when it’s over, it’s like I was never there.”

  Keisha nodded her head. “The doctor should be able to help with that. Don’t worry about it. It could be a chemical imbalance
that can be cured real quickly with a few pills.”

  “I’m not worried about me.” Sharmaine paused for several moments. “What if I’ve forgotten other things? What if I’ve been having these blackouts for months and didn’t know it?”

  “I don’t understand.

  Sharmaine stared at the floor and whispered, “What if I really did shoot Leon and I just don’t remember?

  Keisha reached over and pulled Sharmaine into a tight hug. Behind Sharmaine’s back, a huge grin spread across Keisha’s face.

  Chapter Ten

  “People, people, we can’t all speak at once. I need everyone to just calm down for a moment,” Bishop Snow stated. He sat in his chair at the large table in the church conference room. “Now, Sister Reeves, I believe you were speaking. Go ahead.”

  Brenetta stood up. “Thank you, Bishop, but you’re not gonna like what I have to say. Sharmaine Cleveland is a disgrace to this congregation, and I can’t believe you allowed her to stand in our pulpit and sing.”

  “Sister Cleveland asked to sing, and I saw no reason to tell her no. As I’ve said before, it’s not our place to judge her. She and her family are going through a difficult time, and they need our support,” Bishop Snow responded.

  “Her family walked out of here right along with the rest of us.” Brenetta looked around the room at the other faces in the conference room. She waved her finger. “All of you saw Leon take those poor children and walk out. That should tell you something right there.”

  Bishop Snow sat in his chair and didn’t respond as Brenetta continued to rant and rave about Sharmaine Cleveland. The church council meeting had been going on for more than an hour, but so far they had not discussed anything he felt was important. As soon as he had arrived and taken his seat, he was surprised to learn that his council members had a completely different agenda in mind.

  Sharmaine had not returned to church the previous Sunday, but that didn’t stop them from complaining about the day that she had been there. Because of that, he had not had a chance to discuss the church’s monthly budget, their upcoming ministries and programs, or the new building plans. Instead, he’d been bombarded by Brenetta and those who disagreed with him about his decision to allow Sharmaine to sing at their service. He’d wanted to exercise some understanding and tolerance by allowing them to voice their opinion, but his patience was growing thin. He waited until Brenetta finally took a seat before speaking again.

  “Listen, everyone, the decisions regarding who sings during worship service are solely mine. I do my best to put forth a program that will minister to the people who come here each Sunday morning. I appreciate everyone’s input, and I will take into consideration what you’ve all said. Now, can we move on to other business?”

  “Sounds like you’re trying to give us the brush-off,” Deacon Mathis stated. He sucked his teeth. “I mean, just ’cause you the bishop around here, it don’t mean none of us ain’t got no say so.”

  “Of course not, Deacon. As I said, I will take everything that’s been said here into consideration if Sharmaine or anyone else wishes to sing here. But someone has to make the final decision. As your elected bishop, that someone is me.”

  Sister Michaels stood up suddenly. “Yes, we elected you, Bishop, which means we can also vote your behind right out! Don’t go throwing your power around here.” She pointed a long, wrinkled finger at him. “My granddaddy helped found this church before you was even a twinkle in your momma’s eye.”

  Bishop Snow sighed. “Sister Michaels, Deacon, I promise you both—I promise everyone—I am not trying to throw my power around. I believe God sent Sister Sharmaine Cleveland to us to sing that Sunday. Her presence was a blessing to us, and I know we were a blessing to her as well. Please, let’s not argue about this any longer. As I said, if she asks to sing, I will take this meeting and everyone’s thoughts into consideration before making a final decision.”

  “This has gone way past her singing here, Bishop. I think we need to take a vote. We need to vote right now with all of the church officers in the room and decide if we want Sharmaine Cleveland back in this church. We have the power to revoke her membership, and I move that we do just that,” Brenetta said.

  “Sister Reeves, let’s not make any rash decisions. There is no reason to vote Sharmaine out of this church. I think things are getting out of hand. Our purpose here tonight is to discuss church business, not Sharmaine Cleveland, Bishop Snow said. He opened his folder and pulled out his notes. “First on the agenda is—”

  “Sharmaine Cleveland is church business, ” Brenetta said, interrupting him.

  Bishop Snow stood up from the table with his Bible in his hands. “All right, it seems that if we don’t discuss Sharmaine Cleveland, we are not going to get anything else accomplished. We’ve spent the last hour arguing and gossiping. It’s time that we move forward.”

  “Are we gonna take a vote now?” Brenetta asked. “It’s been properly moved. All we need is for someone to second it.”

  “I second it,” Deacon Mathis said.

  “Then it’s been moved and properly seconded that we vote Sharmaine Cleveland right out of this church,” Brenetta said.

  “Wait just a moment, Sister Reeves. Before we take a vote, I want to read something. Any of you who’ve brought your Bibles, will you turn with me to John, the eighth chapter and the first verse? I will be reading from the King James version.” Bishop Snow paused and waited as a few of the church council members pulled out their Bibles and turned to the chapter. When he felt they were ready, Bishop Snow began walking around the room, reading aloud:

  “Jesus went unto the mount of Olives. And early in the morning he came again into the temple and all the people came unto him; and he sat down, and taught them. And the scribes and Pharisees brought unto him a woman taken in adultery; and when they had set her in the midst, they saith unto him, Master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act. Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou? This they said, tempting him that they might have to accuse him. But Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground, as though he heard them not.”

  Bishop Snow paused for a moment and looked over the faces of the people in the room. Then he continued reading and walking:

  “So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her. And again he stooped down, and wrote on the ground. And they which heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, went out one by one, beginning at the eldest, even unto the last: and Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst. When Jesus had lifted up himself, and saw none but the woman, he said unto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers? Hath no man condemned thee? She said, No man, Lord. And Jesus said unto her, neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more. Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life. The Pharisees therefore said unto him, Thou bearest record of thyself; thy record is not true. Jesus answered and said unto them, Though I bear record of myself, yet my record is true: for I know whence I came, and whither I go; but ye cannot tell whence I come, and whither I go. Ye judge after the flesh; I judge no man. And yet if I judge, my judgment is true: for I am not alone, but I and the Father that sent me.”

  When he was done reading, Bishop Snow took his seat at the head of the conference table. He laid his Bible down. “Now, who would like to lead the vote regarding Sharmaine Cleveland and what we should do about her?” he asked. He waited patiently for several moments, but no one spoke up. He breathed a sigh of relief. “All right, then I guess we’ll move on to the next item on the agenda.” He picked up his notes and began discussing the church budget.

  When she returned to her home that night, Brenetta Reeves was not at all happy. Stalking into the house, she slammed the front door. She burst into the den, where Shawn was seated on the couch, watchin
g a basketball game on a forty-inch screen. She stormed over to him, grabbed the remote control, and turned off the television.

  “Brenetta, what are you doing?” he asked disbelievingly.

  She plopped down on the sofa next to her husband. “I just came from a meeting at the church. I cannot believe Bishop Snow is going to continue letting Sharmaine attend our church. It’s not right, Shawn. It’s just not right.”

  “Why do you even care?” He reached for the remote and turned the TV back on. He saw only a few seconds of the game before Brenetta snatched the remote and turned it off again.

  “I care because it’s not right. What kind of example is she for our younger members? He let her stand up there and sing as if she wasn’t frolicking around on the Internet in pornographic movies. How can he ignore the fact that she’s going on trial for attempted murder in a few weeks? I hate it,” she huffed.

  Shawn realized he wasn’t going to be allowed to finish the basketball game until he talked with Brenetta. He turned to her. “I thought you were going to bring it up in the council meeting tonight.”

  “I did. There were other council members who agreed with me too. Just when I got ready to have them vote on revoking her membership, Bishop Snow had to go and pull his Bible out on us. He used that thing like a weapon.”

  Shawn looked at her confused. “How did he use his Bible as a weapon?”

  “He read some scriptures about not judging, and casting the first stone, blah, blah, blah. He’s not fooling me. He knew he was losing ground, so he had to play his trump card.”

  Shawn chuckled. “Brenetta, don’t you think he had a point? You really should not judge Sharmaine. I mean, that’s if she’s even guilty. None of us are sure about that.”

  “Whose side are you on, Shawn Reeves?” Brenetta glared at him.

  “Don’t start that, Brenetta. You know I’ve had my doubts about Sharmaine’s guilt from the beginning. You can believe what you want, but don’t try to make me believe it too.”