The Prodigal Son (A Reverend Curtis Black Novel) (11 page)

D
illon stared through his front windshield, completely dazed. He’d replayed every word his aunt Susan’s friend had told him, but he couldn’t believe she was gone. She was actually dead, and he would never see her alive again.

He sat in his truck, still parked at the side of the road, and finally he picked up his phone. If there were ever a time he needed his dad’s love and support, it was now, so he called him.

“Hey son,” he said right away.

“Hey.”

“So how’s it going?”

“Not good. My aunt Susan just passed.”

“Oh no. I’m so sorry to hear that. What happened?”

“I don’t know. Her friend Tina called me, but I was too upset to ask any questions.”

“Had you spoken to her lately?”

“Just last night.”

“Really? And she was fine?”

“She didn’t say anything was wrong.”

“Gosh, I tell you…I really am sorry to hear this.”

“I’m still stunned.”

“Are you planning to leave for Atlanta today?”

“No, I was thinking first thing in the morning. I’ll need to meet with the funeral home as soon as possible.”

“I understand.”

Dillon wondered when his dad was going to offer to go with him. Surely, he wasn’t planning to let him travel all the way to Georgia by himself.

“And you don’t have any other aunts or uncles, right?” Curtis asked.

“No, and with the exception of a couple of cousins, I’m her only living relative.”

“I hate you have to go through this, son, but God will give you strength. He’ll comfort you in your time of need.”

All this biblical and spiritual encouragement was fine and well, but Dillon needed more from his father. He needed him to get on a plane and stand by his side until he buried his aunt. Since it didn’t sound as though he thought that kind of support was necessary, however, Dillon decided to flat-out ask him.

“Can you go with me?”

Curtis paused for a few seconds. “Of course. I’ll be glad to.”

Dillon swallowed tears for as long as he could, but soon they streamed down his face. He was terribly hurt over losing his aunt, but he was happy out of this world about his father accompanying him to her funeral. He needed someone to be with him more than ever.

“Dad, I really appreciate this.”

“It’s not a problem, and I’ll ask Lana to have one of her assistants check on flights and a hotel for the three of us.”

“That would be great, Dad,” he said, wondering who the third ticket was for. Surely not that witch, Charlotte, because he didn’t want anyone infringing on their time together. “This really means everything to me, and I won’t forget it. Also, who else are you getting a ticket for?”

“Melissa. She is going, isn’t she?”

Dillon leaned his head onto the back rest and shut his eyes. How was he going to explain to his dad that he didn’t want her going anywhere with them? He didn’t want to be bothered, but he knew he had to pick and choose his words because he didn’t want his father knowing how much he despised Melissa. For now, he wanted his dad to believe he had the utmost respect for his fiancée and that he couldn’t live without her.

“I’ll have to check with her. She’s starting a summer class at the university, so she may not be able to go,” he lied.

“Oh, I didn’t realize that. Well, just let me know.”

“I will.”

“You take care, son, and be strong. I know you’re hurting, but things will get better every day.”

“Thanks again, Dad.”

“Anytime.”

Dillon hung up and sat a few minutes longer, thinking about his childhood and how happy he’d been—how his aunt truly had loved him like a son. He thought about the time she’d taken him to this huge amusement park and how he’d had the time of his life. He’d only been in second grade, and Aunt Susan had gotten on every ride he asked her to—even the ones she’d been frightened of. Then there was the time two of his third-grade classmates, Jason and Timothy, had bullied him and his aunt had come to his rescue. Not in the way one would have expected, though. Unlike most parents of a child who was being bullied, she hadn’t said a word to Dillon’s teacher or to the boys’ parents. Instead, she’d asked the parents if the boys could come over for a belated birthday party she was giving Dillon. Dillon remembered how strange he’d thought that was because he’d already celebrated his birthday three months before. Still, she’d invited them and when they’d arrived, she’d sat them down in the dining room, alongside Dillon. Then she’d set one blank piece of paper in front of each of them and asked them face-to-face why they didn’t like her nephew. They’d both seemed terrified and as if they were afraid to speak, and this was when she’d told them, “Maybe it’ll be easier if you just write it down.” They’d seemed dumbfounded, but his aunt had been serious. “Go ahead. Number your papers from one to five and write down all the things you don’t like about Dillon. Then, when you finish that, I want you to write down at least one thing he’s done to hurt you.” The boys had sat there in silence, not knowing what to do. So Aunt Susan had taken things a step further. “Let’s move on to spelling.”

Now, Dillon had wondered if his aunt had maybe lost her mind because he hadn’t understood how spelling words was going to help his situation. Little did he know, though, his aunt had known exactly what she was doing.

“Spell
aunt
,” she’d told them, and finally Jason had said, “A-n-t.”

“No, I mean like your mom’s or dad’s sister,” she explained. “That kind of an aunt.”

“I know,” Jason said. “That’s how you spell it.”

“Is that how you’d spell it, too, Timothy?”

“Yep.”

“Then you’re both wrong,” she said, staring at them. How about
bottom
? Can you spell that?”

This time Timothy smiled, clearly confident that he could get this one right. “B-o-t-t-u-m.”

“That’s wrong, too. You wanna try that one, Jason?”

Jason had shaken his head, no.

“Really? And you boys are in third grade? That’s interesting, because Dillon knew how to spell these little baby words a whole year ago. But let’s try one last one.
Dumb
.”

“That’s easy,” Timothy said. “D-u-m.”

“Do you agree, Jason?”

“Yes.”

“Wrong again. But you know what? Maybe we should try some kindergarten words instead. Because I would hate for Dillon to tell everyone at school that neither of you could spell anything at all.”

“I wanna go home,” Timothy had said, and then he’d started crying.

But Jason, the leader of the two, had surrendered. “I’m really sorry, Miss Whitfield. We didn’t mean all that stuff we said to Dillon, and we want to be friends with him now. We like Dillon.”

Needless to say, Jason and Timothy had never bullied Dillon again, and third grade had turned out to be one of his favorite school years—all because of his wonderful aunt, who’d been willing to do anything to protect him and make him happy.

Dillon sighed deeply, drove to the intersection, and headed back to his house. As soon as he rolled into the driveway, though, he saw Roger and he was glad he’d slipped his sunglasses back on. Roger was a little slow, maybe even illiterate, but Dillon still didn’t want any man to see that he’d been crying. As he pulled into the garage, Roger spoke to him, and thankfully he kept working on the yard and never looked Dillon’s way again.

When Dillon got inside, he went straight up to the bedroom but he cringed when Melissa almost ran into him. She’d been coming out of the room just as he’d walked in.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t know you were back. I was just about to take your clothes to the cleaners.”

Dillon walked around her and didn’t say anything.

“Is everything okay?”

He dropped down in the chair and leaned his head back. “My aunt passed away.”

“Aunt Susan?”

“How many aunts do I have, Melissa? Even Country Roger out there wouldn’t ask such a dumb question.”

“I’m really sorry, baby. What happened?”

“I don’t know, but I’m heading to Atlanta to find out,” he said, but then he thought about something. “And if you’d taken my clothes to the cleaners before today, I’d have them back by now.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d—”

Dillon raised his hand in front of him. “Just save it, Melissa.”

“So when are we leaving?” she asked.

“My dad and I are leaving in the morning.”

“But what about me?”

“You’re gonna stay here and take care of what I told you.”

“But I can start calling private investigators today and hire one while we’re gone.”

“No.”

“But, baby—”

“Melissa, please. When I say, no, that’s what I mean. You’re not going with me, so just get over it.”

He didn’t dare waste his time looking at her, but he still heard her sniffling. It was too bad, though, because no one was going to tag along with him and his dad to his aunt’s funeral. Not a soul—and that was all there was to it.

M
atthew hadn’t been to a bowling alley since he didn’t know when, but he was glad Jonathan and Elijah had wanted to come. It was only Thursday night, but for some reason, it was packed the way it once had been on Fridays and Saturdays. Matthew was sure that this was a result of all the college students being home for the summer. He did see a few high school “youngins,” as Jonathan would call them, but for the most part, everyone else looked to be somewhere between eighteen and twenty-two, and Matthew was having a good time. He’d sort of felt bad about leaving MJ with Aunt Emma, especially since she’d already kept him while he’d been working, but she’d basically insisted that he go enjoy himself with his friends.

“Man, I’m goin’ on record right now,” Jonathan said matter-of-factly, checking out a tall, stallion-looking girl with short, brown hair. “That’ll be mine before the night is out.”

They all leaned against the wall facing the direction of the bowling lanes, and Elijah and Matthew cracked up laughing.

“What?” Jonathan said.

Matthew shook his head. “Man, you haven’t changed a bit. Still chasin’ girl after girl.”

“You mean woman after woman, because there’s nothin’ girlish at all about that fine thing over there.”

Now Elijah shook his head. “Matt, man, can you imagine what it’s like dealin’ with this fool every single day? I even gotta live with him.”

Matthew forced a smile on his face, but it was hard not to envy the kind of life Jonathan and Elijah were living. College life…and they were also playing football. He loved his friends like brothers, something he could never say enough, but he couldn’t help wishing things had turned out differently for him. All three of them had gone off to college, Jonathan and Elijah to the University of Illinois in Champaign and Matthew to Harvard, yet Matthew had returned home a long time ago. It seemed so unfair, too, because during their senior year in high school, Matthew had been named “Most Likely to Succeed,” and he had certainly done much better than Jonathan and Elijah when it came to their grades. He’d been a star football player, too. Interestingly enough, though, it was the two of them who’d completed their second year at U of I, and they were making their parents proud. Matthew, on the other hand, was a total failure.

“Wow,” Jonathan said, eyeing another girl up and down. She scanned his body from head to toe and back up, too. “Maybe I spoke too fast. Maybe she’s the one I should get to workin’ on.”

“Man, will you cut it out,” Elijah said. “Forget about these girls. We’re supposed to be cheerin’ up our boy.”

“Well, now that I’ve heard the whole story,” Jonathan said. “I don’t see where Matt has any choice. Divorce is the only option. You can’t help someone who don’t wanna be helped.”

When they’d stopped for pizza a couple of hours ago, Matthew had gone ahead and told them everything—not about Racquel hitting him, of course, because the two of them would see him as a feeble punk—but he’d shared everything else. He’d been so full inside, slightly depressed and confused, that he hadn’t held back. Now, though, Jonathan acted as though Racquel was the worst mother and wife he’d ever heard of, and Matthew was sort of sorry he’d told them anything.

“It’s not that simple,” Matthew said.

“I don’t know why not,” Jonathan declared. “You said you tried to talk to her. Her parents even tried to make her get help. And on top of that, she wants nothin’ to do with little MJ,
and
she’s goin’ out gettin’ drunk? What else is there to do?”

Matthew looked at him and then toward the couple of lanes in front of them. He knew that when Jonathan formed an opinion about anything, there was no changing his mind, so Matthew didn’t try to.

“Matt, if I were you,” Elijah said, “I’d do what I thought was best for my family.”

“Divorcing her
is
what’s best,” Jonathan said. “Something’s wrong with that girl, and if she won’t try to help herself, then there’s nothin’ Matt can do about it.”

“Let’s talk about somethin’ else,” Matthew said. He hated hearing Jonathan’s rants, but mostly it was because he knew Jonathan might be right. If Racquel wouldn’t get help, and no one could force her, then his hands were tied. He certainly wasn’t planning to take MJ around her again either, not with her acting so violently. He didn’t want to believe she’d ever lay a hand on MJ, but when he’d been away in Boston, he’d seen a news segment about a woman who’d drowned her eight-month-old baby and had never shed a tear. The experts had talked a lot about postpartum depression, but for some reason Matthew hadn’t thought about that story again until this morning. He’d picked up his son, looked at him, and the thought of that woman had hit him like a bulldozer. It was then that he’d decided it was time he and MJ moved out. He wasn’t sure when he was going to pack their things, because he knew he had to do it when Racquel wasn’t around, but for now, MJ would stay with Aunt Emma. Aunt Emma had thought this was best, too, and tomorrow he would tell his in-laws about it.

Matthew, Elijah, and Jonathan laughed and chatted like old times, and soon Matthew felt much better. His marital problems still lingered in the back of his mind, but at the moment, they weren’t consuming him and he was able to enjoy himself for a change.

“Uh-oh,” Jonathan said, and Matthew and Elijah looked in the same direction. “Here comes Stacey,” he sang.

Elijah smiled but Matthew could tell he was trying to keep a straight face so as to not egg Jonathan on.

Jonathan kept on, anyway. “Dang, Matt, she still wants you, man. After all this time.”

Matthew pursed his lips. “Man, you’re crazy.”

“Hmmph, whatever you say.”

“Hey fellas,” Stacey said, walking up with two of her girls and smiling. “Long time, no see.”

“Long time indeed,” Jonathan said.

“How’s it goin’?” Matthew finally said.

Stacey smiled more than she had before. “Wonderful. Especially now.”

Jonathan raised his eyebrows and winked at Matthew. Then he turned to Stacey’s friends. “So, you two not speakin’?” he asked.

“Hello,” they both said together.

“You ladies must be from Stacey’s school.”

“They are,” Stacey said, laughing. “So just leave them alone, Jonathan, because I know how you are.”

“What?” he said, smiling slyly. “I’m as innocent as they come.”

All six of them laughed. Even Stacey’s two friends had already figured out how forward Jonathan was.

Stacey folded her arms. “Well, we won’t hold you guys. We just wanted to say hello…and, of course, it was good seeing you, Matt.”

“Good seein’ you, too. You take care.”

Jonathan barely waited for them to leave. “Man, that Stacey is just as fine as ever, and don’t pretend you didn’t see how she was lookin’ at you. I thought she was gonna throw you down right here on the ground in front of all of us.”

“You’re sick,” Matthew said, laughing.

Elijah laughed, too. “That he is, Matt, but I’m with Jon on this one. That girl still has it bad for you.”

Matthew hadn’t thought about Stacey Martin in a long time, but before he’d started dating Racquel they’d become pretty close. Now Matthew wondered how things might have turned out for him had he stayed with Stacey and never hooked up with Racquel. He felt bad just thinking about it, but it was hard not to wonder. He also felt bad about something else: the reason he’d stopped dating Stacey. She’d made it clear that she wasn’t going to have sex with him or anyone else while in high school. He remembered how his mom hadn’t liked her, the same as she hadn’t liked Racquel, thinking Stacey was only trying to trap him with a baby; but little had his mother known, she’d been wrong about her. Stacey had been one of the good girls, and Matt had been fine with it; that is, until Jonathan and some of their other teammates had poured on the pressure. They’d worked on Matthew until they’d finally convinced him that any girl who wasn’t giving it up wasn’t worth his time or money, and it hadn’t been long before he’d succumbed to their comments like a dummy. He’d broken up with Stacey, started a relationship with Racquel, and now he was a twenty-year-old husband and father.

Boy, had he made a lot of mistakes, and the more he stared at Stacey, standing a few feet away, the more he regretted them. She stared at him, too, and that only made things worse. From the time he’d been old enough to understand what the word
infidelity
meant he’d promised himself he would never be like his mother or father. He would never commit that kind of sin against God or his wife, but just for a quick moment, he ignored his long-held Christian values. What he thought about instead was how happy his life might’ve been had he continued dating Stacey. God forgive him, he wondered what it would feel like to be with her now—tonight even.