“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. His father did abandon him when he chose a gay lifestyle.”
“I didn’t choose this lifestyle, Angela.”
“Save the explanations, Jonathan. I told you before I’m not letting my child around you and your boyfriend.” Angela stomped back and forth across her kitchen. She was so glad Chase was at school because she never wanted him to see her this angry.
“Angela, can we be civil, please?”
“Civil? You want civil? Let’s see, I come home from shopping for our baby and I hear my new husband on the phone with his male lover talking about how much he misses him! I find out that my husband, the man I loved with all my heart, was using me to try to prove to himself that he was a ‘real’ man. You married me knowing you were gay! So you will have to excuse me if I don’t feel very civil.”
“It’s been seven years.”
“I don’t care if it’s been seventy years. That pain doesn’t go away.” In all those years, she’d never seriously dated again because she couldn’t bring herself to trust a man. In fact, the few guys she had gone out with, she ended up dumping at the smallest sign of what she saw as “feminine” characteristics. She knew she was compulsive about it, but she couldn’t help herself and eventually just resigned herself to a lifetime of being alone.
Jonathan let out a long sigh. “You’re trying to punish me, but you’re only hurting Chase by doing this.”
“Look here, Jonathan. Your daddy might have forgotten what the Bible says about homosexuality, but I haven’t. Unh-unh. It ain’t no turning the other cheek for me. And my child will not be exposed to your sinful lifestyle.” Angela had prayed for months, begging God to help her understand why He would do this to her. She’d finally surmised that the devil had simply won the battle for Jonathan’s soul and that God had abandoned her by letting her marry him in the first place.
“But I’m his father,” Jonathan protested.
“And I’m his mother. And I will die before I ever let you have him!” Angela slammed the phone down. Jonathan didn’t know who he was messing with. The old Angela was soft-spoken and wouldn’t hurt a fly. But finding out your husband is gay can bring out the worst in you. And if Jonathan thought he was getting her child, he was definitely about to see the worst in her.
Chapter 4
“Well, that went well,” Jonathan mumbled as he closed his cell phone. He didn’t know why he’d expected Angela to be reasonable.
“Come have a seat, son.” Simon Jackson motioned toward the living room sofa across from him. “You knew it wasn’t going to be easy.”
Jonathan buried his face in his hands. He thought by coming out of the closet he would finally find happiness. And he had, for a little while. But now he was more depressed than he’d ever been; he knew it was because he missed his son.
“Dad, I deserve to be a part of my son’s life.”
“You hurt that girl, son,” Simon replied matter-of-factly.
Jonathan lifted his head as his eyes watered. “I know, Daddy. But how many ways can I say ‘I’m sorry’? I can’t help who I am.”
Simon shifted uncomfortably in his recliner. Jonathan sighed. All this time and his father still wasn’t comfortable with his lifestyle. They had reached an unspoken agreement years ago, that they just wouldn’t address the issue. Sort of like don’t ask, don’t tell. Jonathan hated that he couldn’t talk to his father about what he was feeling, but he knew his father wrestled with the issue himself on a daily basis. Simon caught flak from people who couldn’t understand how a man of God could accept someone who was homosexual, but as he had told one of the deacons, “How do you just completely disown your own child, your own flesh and blood? I can’t stand in judgment. He’ll have to deal with God on that.”
Coming to terms with his son’s homosexuality had been a daily struggle for Simon, that much Jonathan knew. He looked like he’d aged two decades in the last few years. And Jonathan knew it was because of him. Simon’s hair was now fully gray and he had bags under his eyes. The cancer had also taken its toll, robbing Simon of his youthful appearance and vibrant personality. He’d found out three years ago that he had prostate cancer. At first, he tried to hide it from his family and the church, but after the disease started affecting his ability to function normally, he’d broken down, told his family, and stepped down as pastor of Zion Hill. Although he was supposedly in remission, Simon was now only a shell of his former self. Jonathan also knew a huge part of his father’s aging came from wrestling with his inner demons on accepting Jonathan’s lifestyle. Jonathan had even heard him praying for God to deliver his son “from his gayness.” If only it were that easy. Say a couple of Hail Marys and poof! you’re no longer gay. Yeah, right. In the real world it just didn’t work like that. People just didn’t understand that if he’d had a choice, Jonathan would have chosen to live happily ever after with Angela.
After they split up, people kept asking why he’d married her in the first place. He never meant to hurt her. He really and truly thought he could make it work. He chuckled painfully. The sad part was he’d lost his marriage over Tracy and he and Tracy weren’t even together anymore.
Tracy had gotten bored with the relationship two years into it and had taken off with a rich older man who was going to help him “find himself.”
Now Jonathan’s days were spent caring for his ailing father, working at an at-risk youth facility, and dreaming of his son.
“I have to see him. I have to be a part of his life,” Jonathan said wistfully. Since the breakup with Angela, he’d only laid eyes on his son twice: once when he’d found out where Angela lived and had flown to Atlanta to spy on them for a few days and another time when he’d gotten word that she was visiting her parents here in Houston. He’d rented a car and staked out her parents’ home until he saw them.
He’d sent money and short letters over the years to her, when he had her address, to her cousin, Melanie, when he didn’t. Angela had never cashed the checks he’d sent, but she had sent him a photo of Chase when he turned three, along with a note that said, “Please leave us alone.”
“I have gone too long without Chase in my life.”
“But, son, you just have to take it slow.” Simon coughed violently. Although it had been nearly eight years since his mother died, Jonathan couldn’t bear the thought of losing his father as well.
Jonathan was just about to reply when the doorbell rang. He turned to his father. “I’ll get it.”
Jonathan walked over to the door and stared out the peephole. He quickly turned back to his father. “Dad, it’s Sister Maylene. It looks like she’s carrying a dish.”
Simon sighed heavily. “Lord, you’d think the fact that I’m no longer head pastor would stop all these women from sniffing around here.”
A smile crossed Jonathan’s face. Ever since his mother died, his father had had little time for women. But it definitely wasn’t from the women’s lack of trying. Every time he turned around somebody was bringing by a sweet potato pie, or checking to see if Simon needed anything from the store, or just dropping by because they were “in the neighborhood.”
“Dad, I think at some point, one of these women is going to break you down.”
“Hmmph.” Simon snorted.
“You want me to let her in?”
“Well, I guess since you got your eyeball all up in the peephole she knows we’re in here. Let her in.” Simon got up and walked into the kitchen. “I’ll be in the back, trying to look busy.”
Jonathan slowly opened the door. It was obvious Sister Maylene was surprised to see him because the seductive look she had on her face quickly disappeared.
“Afternoon, Brother Jackson.” She cleared her throat and tried to shift her purse in front of her, no doubt trying to hide the fact that she was exposing too much cleavage.
“How are you, Sister Maylene?” Jonathan asked, trying not to laugh. Her face was made up like she was twenty and she had taken down her signature bun;
her white hair flowed freely down to her shoulders.
“Blessed and highly favored. Ummm, is ummm, is Pastor Jackson around?”
Jonathan stepped back and waved her in. “He’s right in the kitchen,” he said as he shut the door behind her.
She held out the covered dish. “Well, I was just bringing by supper for him since I know he’s been a little under the weather.”
“I can take it to him.” Jonathan stuck his hands out, still trying not to laugh. He was so glad he’d come over here!
Sister Maylene quickly pulled the dish close to her chest. “Umm, I would much rather give it to him myself.”
I bet you would, Jonathan thought. He stepped aside and motioned for her to pass.
“I’ll only be a minute,” she said as she sashayed past him.
“Sure.” Jonathan could sense her disappointment as he followed her into the kitchen. It was obvious she didn’t want him around.
Simon was at the kitchen table reading over some papers. He forced a smile when he looked up. “Sister Maylene, how are you today?”
“Just fine.” She looked over at Jonathan like she was pleading with him to leave the room. Simon shot his son a look that Jonathan knew meant he should stay right where he was.
Jonathan sat down at the kitchen bar and he could’ve sworn Sister Maylene looked like she wanted to curse him out.
“Well, I know you don’t get around much and I know it’s not often you get a home-cooked meal, so I just wanted to bring you some of my special meat loaf,” she said.
“Well, I sho’ do appreciate it,” Simon responded. He motioned for Jonathan to take the dish.
Miss Maylene stood like she was waiting on Simon to invite her to stay. “Well, I best get going,” she said after he didn’t.
Simon stood. “Let me see you out. It sure means a lot that you thought enough of me to bring me dinner.”
She smiled as they walked out of the kitchen. Jonathan put the dish in the refrigerator while he waited for his father to return. A couple of minutes later Simon walked back in with a look of exasperation on his face.
“You know she really wanted to stay,” Jonathan said.
“Boy, I don’t have time for all these women. Just no shame, throwing themselves at a man. It’s disgraceful.” Simon gathered up his papers. “I’m going to take a nap.”
Jonathan laughed as his father walked off. Simon would forever be comparing women to his wife, Loretta, who he always called the epitome of class.
Jonathan’s laughter died down as he thought of his father spending the rest of his life alone. It was time for Simon to find someone to fill the void in his life. He paused as he thought about it. Was that what he was trying to do in attempting to win joint custody of his son?
He shook off the thought. The bottom line remained: He was Chase’s father and he’d wasted enough time taking into account everyone else’s feelings. Now the only person that mattered was Chase, and Jonathan wouldn’t rest until he became a part of his son’s life.
Chapter 5
Lester rolled over, out of breath, his chest heaving. He had a look of absolute pleasure on his face. Poor thing, he really thought he’d done something, Rachel thought. But, as usual, his lovemaking left a lot to be desired.
Rachel exhaled as she looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. It was almost one in the morning and not only was she unfulfilled, she was still wide awake. She looked at Lester and a small smile crossed her face. He’d gone to sleep just that fast. He looked so peaceful. She, on the other hand, felt frustrated. She had resigned herself to a lifetime of mediocre loving, but it was starting to get to her. Oh, Lester tried, he tried with all his might, but he simply could not measure up to Bobby.
Rachel closed her eyes tightly. Why was she thinking of Bobby? He was history. He had chosen his life with his one-Reese’s Pieces-away-from-exploding wife, and she’d been forced to choose hers. Now that she was Mrs. Lester Adams, she could not backtrack with the man who had broken her heart.
But as Rachel looked over at her husband softly snoring she couldn’t help but wonder, what if? What if she and Bobby had gotten back together? What if she had never cheated on him in the first place? What if she hadn’t been so young and stupid? And why couldn’t she get his words from the other day out of her head? I’m unhappy because I should have married you.
You need to pray, Rachel told herself as she climbed out of bed and dropped to her knees. Her mother would be thrilled to know that she had become a praying woman. It had helped her make it through some turbulent times. Back in the day, though, she had been a firecracker and had done some things she was now ashamed of.
Rachel prayed for a good five minutes before standing up and grabbing her robe. She felt a little better, but her thoughts were still on Bobby. Maybe if she went downstairs and watched TV, it would help her fall asleep—or at the very least get her mind off of Bobby.
As she made her way downstairs she couldn’t help but recall all the horrible things she’d done during and after her relationship with Bobby. She shook her head as she thought about how she’d sent Jordan up to Bobby’s door in the middle of the night. Or when she’d called and had all of Shante’s utilities cut off. Or better yet, when she’d tried to stab Bobby with a butcher knife. Rachel had worked hard to grow beyond that hot-tempered girl she used to be. But she couldn’t help how she was feeling now.
When Bobby had left her, she couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t forgive her. It seemed stupid now. After all, she had a baby by his best friend. How many men could’ve forgiven that? But back then, she’d felt he was being unreasonable by not giving her another chance. And she especially couldn’t understand why he chose overweight, plain-looking Shante over her.
Rachel knew she was pretty, always had been. But she’d let her hair grow out over the years and now it hung down on her shoulders. She’d also kept her svelte size-eight frame. Bobby used to love how guys were always looking at her. She used to think that and his love for her would be enough to win him back. But he’d made it clear that he loved Shante for what was on the inside, not how she looked.
It was a mature viewpoint that Rachel just hadn’t understood at the time. Over the years, however, she’d grown up enough to do so. So then why can’t you stand Shante? a little voice echoed in her head.
“Because I wish he’d chosen me,” Rachel mumbled before quickly catching herself. “No, I don’t. What am I talking about?”
“Ma, are you in here talking to yourself?”
Rachel jumped at the sound of Jordan’s voice from behind her. She hadn’t even realized she was standing in the kitchen, in the dark, talking to herself. She tried to fake a laugh. “I’m sorry, baby. I was just mumbling.”
“Oh,” Jordan muttered like he could really care less. “I just needed some water. I have the hiccups.”
“Have a seat.” Rachel walked over and flipped the light on. “I’ll get you a glass of water. Maybe even make us some hot chocolate, and maybe we can chat for minute.”
“Awww, Ma. I just want to get some water and go back to bed,” he groaned.
Rachel ignored him as she grabbed a glass, filled it with water from the Ozarka machine, and placed it on the table. “Have a seat.”
Jordan rolled his eyes as he plopped down at the table. Rachel grabbed two more cups from the cabinet, filled them with hot water and placed them in the microwave. After letting the water get hot, she removed the cups, filled them with cocoa, and placed them at the table.
“Here; now, let’s talk,” she said.
Jordan groaned again.
“You want to tell me what’s going on with you?”
“Nothing, dang.”
“Jordan, I don’t like your attitude lately. You’re rude and disrespectful, and I just don’t understand what’s going on with you.”
Jordan sighed, then took a sip of his hot chocolate. “Why you trippin’?” he finally said.
“All right, don’t get smart,” she war
ned. “I’m just trying to get you to talk to me.”
“What? Ain’t nothing wrong. I wish everybody would just leave me alone!” Jordan scowled.
“Jordan, you’re eleven. How bad can life really be?” Rachel tried to talk calmly because it was obvious something was wrong with her son. “Talk to me, please.”
Jordan blew a frustrated breath, then sat up. “Fine. I wanna know why don’t nobody like us. Why they’re always talking about us. You, Uncle Jonathan, Uncle David, even Paw Paw Simon. Everybody hates us.”
Rachel tried not to smile. She forgot that at his age, being liked was one of the most important things in the world. She put her hand on his. “Baby, nobody hates us.”
“Yes they do. Everybody’s always talking about us.”
Rachel shook her head. “Sweetie, sometimes, when you’re in a position of power, you’re held to higher standards than everyone else. Your grandfather has always held a position of power, so people expected his kids to be perfect. But we had problems just like everybody else.”
Jordan looked like he wasn’t convinced.
“You know Sister Smith, Donyell’s grandmother?” Rachel continued.
Jordan nodded. “What about her?”
“She’s raising Donyell because his mother went to prison for bank robbery.”
Jordan’s eyes got wide as she kept talking.
“And Sister Hicks got arrested for shoplifting when she was a teenager.”
“No way!”
“Yes way.” Rachel smiled. “So, you see, everybody has issues. Some people act so holy that you think they’ve never done anything wrong—but no one on this earth is perfect.”
Jordan looked like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Rachel was just grateful that he didn’t ask her to go into details about her brothers. That was a conversation she wasn’t ready to have with him just yet.
“Ma, can I ask you another question?”
Everybody Say Amen Page 3