The Things We Do for Love, page 26
“First, I wanted to apologize for my behavior outside of your church that day,” Jesse said, his gaze moving between me and Earl. “Secondly, I understand you’ve accepted Jesus Christ.”
Arms hanging at his side, standing as if poised for an attack, Earl nodded affirmatively.
“Well, congratulations. Hands down, that’s the best move you’ll ever make in your life.”
Earl looked at me, instead of Jesse, but said, “Thank you.”
“Tell me if I’m out of line,” Jesse said, easing the empty bottle out of Samuel’s hands and shifting him to his opposite arm, “but is there any reason why you weren’t at GET UP’s press conference the other day?”
Earl’s temples pulsed noticeably, as they always did when he got defensive. “Those jokers said it themselves, if I read the papers right,” he replied. “They’re about using Adrian’s disappearance for a cause, man. I just want my brother back.”
“I understand,” Jesse said, eyes still on me as I remained standing, rooted to a spot in the middle of the floor. I probably looked like a hostage in my own office at that point. “You didn’t hear it from me,” Jesse continued, “but I have a sense there will be some good news about your brother very soon.”
“Really?” Earl shrugged as if Jesse had just predicted the point spread for a big college football game. He looked at me again, clearly uninterested in baring his emotions in front of someone he viewed as a rival. “Rev, I’ll be out in my car. Take care, Jesse.”
When Earl was gone, I shut the door behind him and collapsed back onto the couch. Despite myself, I punched my husband in the shoulder, my touch almost as playful as it had been in smoother times. “What was that about? As if things weren’t awkward enough, you’re trying to be his friend or something?”
“I just need a couple more days,” Jesse replied, passing Samuel’s sleeping little body over to me. “But trust me, God has opened some doors for me, Angie, and Coleman to get to the bottom of things. I’m confident our investigator will have good insight on Adrian’s whereabouts in another week’s time.”
I opted to take Jesse at his word—as the Gospel of Matthew says, each of my days already had enough trouble of their own. Unfortunately, I had one more bit of unpleasantness to raise. “So Daddy says you reached out to him.”
“I had some extra tickets, is all,” Jesse replied, referencing the Orioles tickets he had offered my father. “I wasn’t crazy enough to offer to take him to the game, I let him take some of his fellow retirees so he could enjoy himself.”
“He said you told him that he’ll have to get used to you, regardless of what happens with us.”
“Scary thing is, he barely fought me on that,” Jesse said, chuckling. “Whenever you tell him the whole truth and nothing but, that’ll probably change, but you know what, Dionne? It’s taken all I have to accept God’s forgiveness for my role in all this, and more still to really cleanse myself of the sin that moved me to lie to you in the first place.” Jesse leaned forward, clasped his hands. “After going through all that, I don’t have time to live in fear of your father’s judgments anymore.”
For a moment Samuel’s coos were the only sound in the room, until I spoke. “You committed a horrible act, Jesse, but you’re not the same man I met that day in the shower.” I took a breath, then said, “And so that you know, if I decide that it eventually makes sense to tell the rest of my family that you’re Samuel’s biological father, I will make it clear that God alone can judge you. It’s none of their business. Their only responsibilities are to love Samuel and to respect you in your role as his father, as long as you do right by him.”
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that,” Jesse replied, his eyes downcast and his voice suddenly hoarse. “And for the record, if you decide to choose Earl over me, all I ask is that you give me generous joint custody rights.”
Jesse’s stark words and calm tone stabbed me in the pit of my stomach, and I flicked my eyes up to his. “What?”
“You heard me,” he replied, a more transparent film of emotion seeping into his tone now. “I want you back so bad, Dionne, it embarrasses me. I don’t have the right to press you on it, though.”
I wasn’t sure what I had expected Jesse to feel all this time, but this wasn’t quite it. I felt my eyes narrow as I asked, “How can you want me back, but not act on it?”
“I just acted on it,” Jesse said, his eyes meeting my stare now. “But you see, my father acted on it, too, every time Mama caught him laying up with a new girlfriend, including my own mother, of course. And every time Mama took him back.”
“Jesse,” I said, wondering if I was being roped in against my will, “you’re not your father. If history’s any indicator, you’re much more likely to change your behavior than Phillip Sr. ever was.”
“Prayerfully so,” he replied. “But I can’t expect you to take that chance.”
“Well, I’m not ready to make that call, anyway,” I said, sighing and focusing on Samuel again. “Whether we raise this child together or separately, though, I have prayed about one thing. We should have his paternity tested, Jesse. I know there’s no reason not to believe you’re his father, but women lie to the men in their lives about that every day. We need to know both sides of Samuel’s genetic roots, so we’re aware of what illnesses and things to look out for as Samuel grows up.”
Jesse ran a hand over his brow and slowly said, “No.”
Processing his brusque reply, I stood and walked to my desk with Samuel enveloped in my arms. “I’m not sure where this is coming from,” I said, “but it’s not so simple as you just stating your wish. I just explained my logic.”
“I’m still convinced I gave my mama ulcers,” Jesse said in reply. His chin tucked in toward his chest, he continued without looking up. “She loved me like I was her own, baby, you know that. She still does. But when I was little, there were more than a few nights I caught her sitting up staring at old photos of me with Cassie,” he said, surprising me because Jesse rarely referred to his natural mother by name. “The look in her eyes, Dionne . . . I’ve never really gotten over it.”
“She took you in, Jesse,” I said, “because of Christ and the Holy Spirit’s power in her life. She said so, the first time she told me how she decided to adopt you after your parents were killed.”
“I know,” Jesse replied, clearly struggling to keep his composure. “That didn’t keep me from struggling with guilt over my simple existence for years. Dionne, I don’t want to do anything to tempt you to feel the same type of resentment toward Samuel. You really think it’ll help you to see it confirmed in black and white that he’s mine?”
“Jesse,” I replied, unable to find words. “Jesse, I don’t know—”
“God will keep his hand on Samuel,” he said, massaging my shoulder and placing a hand lovingly to the baby’s head. “We have to take that on faith.”
“Jesse, I just think that—”
He quieted me by placing two fingers against my lips. “We don’t have to decide right now. Just enjoy the moment today, and thank God for His work in you this morning.” He extended his arms. “Give me the little guy. He’ll be waiting on you at your parents’ house.”
“Thanks,” I said, handing over our little bundle of joy. “I really appreciate you coming today.”
“It was my pleasure,” he replied, stroking the back of Samuel’s head. He held my gaze as he spoke, his eyes radiant with selflessness. “I love you, Dionne.”
When I climbed into Earl’s truck, he glanced over at me with grudging eyes. Ending a cell phone discussion, he cleared his throat. “I guess you only got a couple of minutes before the next service.”
“Yes,” I replied, my hands in my lap. “I’m sorry about all that.”
“No worries,” he said, a playful snort baring his sarcasm.
“Jesse was just here to support me through a controversial sermon,” I said, “and frankly, to talk about family matters involving the baby.”
“So, are you going back to him, or not?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Honestly.”
Earl turned toward me and grabbed my hands with a gentle touch. “What do you need to help make up your mind?”
Something broke loose in me, and the combination of Earl’s cologne, his hungering stare, and our growing bond took hold. In seconds I was palming the back of his head as we dove into another of what were now dozens of torrid kisses. When I felt his hands on my chest, I pulled back violently.
Earl nearly reached for me, then seemingly thought better of it. Pulling back to his side of the truck, he eyed me suspiciously. “What’s that about?”
I looked away, unable to explain myself.
“You know,” Earl said, “I have broken up a marriage or two in the not-too-distant past. I’m supposed to be past that now, right, now that I’m saved? So you need to tell me, are you still Jesse’s wife or not?”
“Jesse’s not rushing my decision” was all I could mutter as I prayed for God’s forgiveness.
“Oh, so I shouldn’t either, huh?” Earl laughed out loud, slapping his steering wheel. “If I wasn’t saved, Rev, I’d tell you it’s time to piss or get off the pot.”
I stared back into Earl’s large, fetching eyes, feeling as if my life might be defined by the next few minutes.
40
Jesse
The minute he crossed the threshold into Rachel’s GET UP headquarters office, Adrian surveyed the room with a lazy, confident gaze. Dressed in a navy blazer, a striped turtleneck, and a pair of ratty jeans, he had let his hair grow out into what looked like the first phase of dreadlocks. Looking about the room and nodding slowly at me, Rachel, Coleman, and Coleman’s pastor, Reverend Willis, he gave no evidence of shame or embarrassment. It was only when he pivoted to see the other person in the room—Earl, who sat in a separate corner chewing his top lip—that Adrian cracked.
“Oh God, Earl!” Adrian nearly leapt into his big brother’s arms, knocking Earl back into his seat before he could rise. “I am so sorry,” Adrian said, his voice nearing a whisper. “I know you were looking out for me—I would have clued you in to everything! It was just that we couldn’t risk you giving anything away to Coleman and his crew. I’ll explain everything, I swear.”
Earl was still chewing on that lip as he wrapped his brother in a tight embrace. Holding Adrian back at arm’s length as if to check him over, he finally spoke. “If I wasn’t so glad to see you in one piece, little man, I’d bust your head open right about now.”
Rachel let the brothers have their reunion for another minute before saying, “Adrian, I think Coleman, Jesse, and the pastor should hear the entire story from your side.” This had been one of the conditions under which we’d agreed not to alert the authorities about GET UP’s deception.
Adrian walked to Rachel’s desk, shoved aside a ream of folders, and plopped himself on the edge. “So,” he said, looking around at each of us with hardening eyes, “you wanna hit me up with questions or just have me take it from the top?”
Coleman managed a second’s eye contact with his ex as he said, “Begin at the beginning.”
“The root of all this,” Adrian said, shrugging, “goes back to your attempt to shut me up, Coleman. D-Boy? He found me, sent his goons to intimidate me, just like you asked them to. I was walking back to my condo after a day down on the Mall, when they pulled alongside and grabbed me into their truck.” The rest of us stayed uncomfortably silent as Adrian recounted the threats, his smart-mouthed responses, and the punches he’d taken to the face and stomach in return.
“They dumped me way down on Georgia Avenue, almost out in Maryland,” Adrian said, his voice betraying residual bitterness. “I was dizzy, bloodied, and knew I had to look a mess. They’d cleaned my wallet out too, so I had no ID, no money, and no credit cards. I was gonna have to walk all the way home.
“Fortunately, I was able to go into a nearby McDonald’s and talk up a cute little brother working the register. He hooked me up with his cell phone, and the first call I made was to Rachel.”
“Adrian’s proud,” Rachel said, her intent gaze moving from one of us to the next. “I’ll fill in some color for you. He was crying like a baby when he reached me.”
Adrian nodded. “Whatever, yeah. I hadn’t been that humiliated in a long time. It’s one thing to be attacked for being gay, it’s one thing even to be attacked by a lover’s silly wife,” he said, cutting his eyes in Coleman’s direction, “but to have a bunch of brothers tell me I have no right to speak out for truth, to challenge a closeted brother who’s harming the cause?”
“Adrian, stop,” Coleman said, his voice even more husky than usual. “We agreed to let this slide if you’d stop lying about me. I’m not closeted. I love my wife and I’m faithful to her.”
“So why did you kiss me, then? And so everyone’s clear, Coleman, I’m referring to three months ago, not back when those photos were taken!”
Several throats were cleared as everyone processed Adrian’s accusation. “You’re the one here to explain yourself, not Coleman,” I said finally, glancing sideways at Earl to make sure things weren’t going to deteriorate totally.
“He’s right,” Earl said, his tone noncommittal. “Finish the story.”
“I was pissed,” Adrian said, “feeling like three-fifths of a human being, a status my people supposedly transcended decades ago. So I decided to strike back.” He glanced around the room proudly. “Rachel supported me, but my disappearance was my idea.”
“You had a lot at stake,” I said. “A successful political consulting practice, for one. I would think your Republican clients wouldn’t be too thrilled to have you openly flaunt your sexuality.”
“Please,” Adrian replied, waving my words off as nonsense. “Those Republicans could care less about anybody’s sex life as long as they’re helpful to the cause—low taxes, small government, and the freedom to make war whenever we choose. The antigay thing is just window dressing for the yahoos.” He looked between me and Coleman as he said, “As long as this little fraudulent incident stays among us, I’ll be welcomed back into the Grand Old Party, living proof of the ‘big tent.’”
“You understand,” I said, “that in order for everyone to keep you out of jail, Adrian, not only is Rachel resigning from GET UP, but when you return to work, you’ll have to force your clients to personally support a ‘big tent.’ No supporting anyone who opposes civil unions or who wastes time trying to hold votes on antigay marriage laws. No support of people opposing gay adoptions, no pushing legislation that subordinates the rights of homosexuals to the rest of us.”
Adrian grinned wickedly. “Well, haven’t we been transformed into a flaming activist, now? Who knew, pretty boy, who knew?”
“Don’t get it twisted,” I replied. “This isn’t about my personal beliefs. This is about you being true to your own stated cause. Pastor Willis, however, has agreed to help all of us find a positive way out of this.” I turned to the preacher. “You want to break the news?”
“After consultation with Brothers Law and Hill,” Pastor Willis said, standing and looking over the room as if he were in a pulpit, “I am going to build a ministry that will generate edifying conversations between Christian heterosexuals and our homosexual brethren. We’re calling it ‘Across the Void,’ because Lord knows many of us are so separated on this issue, we can’t even talk to one another.”
Adrian frowned, wearing his skepticism like a badge of courage. “Are you gonna encourage closeted gay members—and by that, I’m including those with opposite-sex spouses—to take part, open up about their true desires?”
“Young brother,” Pastor Willis replied, chuckling, “I can’t force my members to do anything, so, no, I can’t promise that this ministry will draw out any more than a handful of folk initially. Matter of fact,” he said, leaning back in his seat, “if I really think about it, the first meeting will probably do well to have two or three of our openly gay members and another two or three conservative members eager to tell them they’re headed for hell!” He shook his head as Adrian shrugged in an “I told you so” way.
“That doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying, though,” the pastor continued. “The one thing I’ve come face-to-face with while counseling Brother Hill here is that most believers have a major problem in this area. And the only way we’re going to address it is to have some honest dialogue.”
Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Honest dialogue in the Church? I’d pay good money to see that. When’s the first meeting, Pastor?”
“We’ll need a few weeks to get it under way,” Pastor Willis said, pointing a finger toward Coleman and me. “Brothers Hill and Law have agreed to serve as co-chairs of the ministry. I figure their influence with the youth should help get teens and college students of both persuasions interested. I want some of the older folk too, but I can recruit them on my own.”
We talked for a while about exactly how the pastor should structure the Across the Void ministry, which, of course, erupted into more of an argument. Predictably, Adrian and Rachel’s idealistic expectations clashed loudly with my, Earl’s, and Pastor Willis’s realism.
Coleman, for his part, said next to nothing the entire time.
By the time we finished our arguments over the ministry, as well as the details of Adrian’s “homecoming”—he would magically appear at Earl’s front door the next morning, after which Earl would call the police with the blessed news—Coleman looked as bushed as I felt. As we walked to our cars with Pastor Willis, I waved a hand in front of his face. “You in there, man? I know you’re tired, but we should be praising God right about now!” I looked past Coleman at the pastor, who had already slowed his pace as we neared his Escalade truck. “Am I right, Pastor? The drama ends now.”
“Well, in life the drama never truly ends,” Pastor Willis replied, laughing as he turned to put his key into the Escalade’s door. “But I agree, there is much to be thankful for today. Brother Adrian is safe and sound, Brother Earl has his family member back, there’s no more cloud hanging over either you or Coleman, and, most important, Coleman here can see evidence that God has forgiven his past sins.” He reached over and clapped Coleman on the shoulder. “You can make a fresh start now.”
