Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“No, I retired. I’m teaching some theology courses over at the college.”
“Oh.” I nod as if that makes perfect sense, when it’s actually the last thing I expected. I thought they’d have to drag his corpse out of Hope’s pulpit. “You liking it?”
“Very much.” He fiddles with the tassel on his shoes, which are as polished in Mama’s living room as they would be for a Sunday service. “Sometimes I think… well, maybe that’s what I should have been doing all along. We all knew your mama was the real shepherd of Hope’s flock. She loved on the people, connected with them like I never could. I preferred the teaching, sermons, and all that.”
“And yet it was her they abandoned when you cheated,” I say, looking at Mama’s portrait of Black Jesus on the wall instead of at my father.
“I guess that’s the way you remember it.” He shifts on the love seat and rests his elbows on his knees.
My eyes snap to his, holding his gaze with a boldness I never could manage when I was younger. “You saying that’s not how it was?”
“I’m saying that as a grown man, I hope you gain some perspective about things that happened when you were a child.”
“I wasn’t a child.”
“Oh, excuse me. That’s right. You were in high school. You understood everything.”
“Surely you not blaming Mama for your infidelity.”
“Not at all.” He lifts his eyes and gives me one of those penetrating looks I haven’t been on the other end of for years. “I’m saying your mother didn’t want a church split. She loved the people too much to fracture them that way; force them to choose sides. Some folks never recover from that kind of thing. They leave and don’t land in another church, give up on God altogether.”
He pauses, searching my face.
“Is that what you did, son?” he asks softly. “Did you give up on God altogether because I made a mistake?”
“A mistake,” I snort disdainfully, giving him my back when I twist to lift the piano lid again and brush my fingers across the keys. “If that’s what you want to call it.”
“Would you rather I call it sin, because I—”
“I don’t care what you call it. Sin. Transgression. Mistake.” I face him again, my voice flat. “You fucked up, and Mama paid the highest price.”
In the silence that follows my words, the air throbs with the fury I’ve kept in check for years. At least it’s real. He and I haven’t had real conversations in a long time. He’s always tiptoeing around me like I’m a land mine, and I’ve had nothing to say to him. Or at least I thought I didn’t.
“Your mother’s happy now,” Daddy says. “Things happen the way they’re supposed to most times.”
“All things work together for our good, right? Your theology is always so convenient.”
“So you do remember your Bible after all. Once a PK, always a PK.”
“Not always, since you ain’t a pastor anymore.”
“You got me there, but you didn’t answer my question. Did you give up on God because of me?”
“I was always skeptical, but I didn’t give up on God. I gave up on you.” I heave a sigh, the respect for my elders ingrained in me sinking its teeth in and pulling back some of my ire. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You probably did.” His mouth quirks to one side and he sits up, stretching one arm across the back of the love seat. “You know Coltrane was at the lowest point, withdrawing cold turkey from heroin and alcohol, and attributed getting clean to the grace of God. A Love Supreme was his offering to God, out of his gratitude.”
“Oh, so you gon’ tell me about Coltrane?” I ask mockingly, brows winging up.
“He said he felt filled with the Spirit of God,” Daddy goes on without acknowledging my taunt. “When I first heard that, I thought of you.”
“Coltrane said A Love Supreme came from his spiritual awakening. I haven’t had one of those,” I say dryly.
“Yet.” Daddy grins. “And you love that album.”
I roll my eyes, not wanting to admit A Love Supreme, structured in four movements reflecting a spiritual journey, is my favorite of Coltrane’s.
“Your point?” I ask.
“Not sure there has to be much of a point. Just that God has a way of reaching us.”
“He knows where I am. I don’t have a problem with God. I had a problem with you.”
“You had every right to be angry, son. What I did was inexcusable. You gotta remember that your parents, no matter how old they are, can be young and stupid.” Daddy’s brows draw together and he turns his lips down at the corners. “I’ve asked your mother to forgive me and I’ve learned a lot. I just never wanted you to be lost because of my mistakes.”