Boaz Brown (40 page)

I was careful to slow down and read the signs, despite the fact that somebody behind me gave me the finger once. I didn’t care. The last place I wanted to be lost was at DFW Airport.
Help me, Lord. Gate Six. American Airlines. Flight #128. Okay, okay.
I pulled up to the curb as Jonathan had instructed me. He said he’d be waiting so I wouldn’t have to park.

And there he was, waving at me with his free hand. His light brown skin matched Momma’s exactly, but his strong bone structure was Daddy all over. Dressed in his uniform, Jonathan was the perfect clean-cut brother. I could only hope God’s plan would lead him to the classroom.

I pulled to the curb and popped my trunk so he could put his bags in the car. The curb attendant was impatient, ready for me to pull out. I quickly unlocked the doors, and Jonathan hopped in. We hugged for an instant, just long enough for the airport worker to blow his whistle and hurry us out.

“Hey!” Jonathan looked me over. “You’re looking thirty-one now.”

“Whatever!”

“That’s a compliment,” he said. “Weren’t you tired of looking like one of your students?”

“It’s a funny thing,” I laughed. “When you’re young you want to look old. But now that I’m older, I’m trying to hold on to every bit of youth I can.”

“Well, you’re looking good,” he reiterated.

“Look at you—all suave. What’s up with the bald head?”

“Just something to do.” He shook his head and smiled.

“I like, I like.” I ran my hand along his head. “I’m glad you’re staying with Momma and Daddy because I don’t have time for all these little women friends of yours calling my house looking for you.”

“What women friends?” He grinned.

“The ones who are gonna be all over you when you hit the streets with this bald head. It looks really good, Jonathan. Makes you look distinctive.” I poked out my lower lip and nodded, giving him my seal of approval.

Jonathan’s six-foot-three frame barely fit into my car.

My cell phone rang. “Hello?”

“You picked up Jonathan yet?”

“Yes, ma’am. We’re on our way there.”

“Well, you need to hurry, LaShondra. Your father wants to speak with you.”

“About what?”

“Well, evidently, one of your nosy cousins saw you and Stelson together the other night. Your Daddy got wind of
it,
and he’s been carryin’ on about it, tellin’ them they ain’t nothin’ but a bunch of liars and gossips,” she whispered.

Oh, great. This is not how I wanted my father to find out.

“We’ll be there in half an hour.”

I hung up the phone and banged my palm against the steering wheel. It was one of those moments when I knew that I knew better and should have acted sooner, but because I didn’t, things weren’t working out the way I wanted them to. Rather, I was at the mercy of my snooping family. All because I didn’t act on my leading to tell my father earlier.

Lord, there’s got to be a million things I could have accomplished by now if only I would act when you speak. Forgive me, and make me more faithful to Your prompting.

“What’s wrong?” Jonathan asked.

“It’s a long story, Jonathan, but here it goes. I’m seeing a wonderful man named Stelson Brown. He’s nice, he’s decent, and he loves the Lord. He’s also white.”

Jonathan’s eyebrows went up an inch. “You serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. The problem is, I haven’t told Daddy about him. Stelson took me to Grandmomma Smith’s house the night she died, and somebody must have seen us together when we walked back to his car. Anyway, Daddy heard something and now he’s accusing them of lying about what they obviously saw. Bottom line, I should have told Daddy sooner, but I didn’t. Now I have to tell him in the middle of all this stress.”

“You’re dating a white man?” Jonathan seemed amused.

“What’s so funny?”

“Never thought you would give a white man the time of day.”

“Neither did I, Jonathan, but God worked this thing, you know?”

“Hmm.” He put his chin in his hand and looked out the window.

“So, are you okay with this?” I asked him.

“I’m okay, just shocked, that’s all. But if you really like him, Shondra, don’t let his color stand in the way. One thing I’ve learned in my travels is that people are the same everywhere you go. Everybody wants better education and safer streets. But more than anything, people want the freedom to choose.”

Jonathan prayed with me before we went into the house. “Lord, give Shondra the strength to stick with her convictions and the wisdom to express them respectfully to our father. Send Your love to temper the anger that has welled up inside our father for many, many years. And teach us all to be loving, caring, and godly in our dealings with every human of every race. Renew our minds in dealing with people we have been taught to hate. Father, I thank You for my sister’s example of courage. Now, Lord, help her to stand. In the name of Jesus we pray, amen.”

Momma met us at the door and squeezed Jonathan tightly. Her eyes glistened as she kissed his cheeks. In the house, everything was quiet. Too quiet. The carpet snuffed out the sound of our steps, so that we almost sneaked up on Daddy in his chair. He jumped a little at the sight of us hovering above him.

“Hey!” he yelled, and got up to hug Jonathan. “Ha! Ha! You lookin’ good, boy! Lookin’ good!”

“It’s good to be home, old man,” Jonathan teased him.

“Who you callin’ ‘old man’?” Daddy punched Jonathan’s arm. “I’ll show you an old man!”

Daddy looked past Jonathan and saw me. He sucked his teeth a bit and pushed Jonathan aside. “Shondra, your cousin Jessica’s goin’ around saying she saw you all hugged up with that white man from your job. I told her she ain’t nothin’ but a lyin’ heifer and—”

“Daddy, it’s true.” I shoved my hands in my pockets.

His eyes grew so wide they could have popped out. His knuckles plunged into his waist. He looked at Jonathan, Momma, and then back at me, as if to ask if this was a sick joke.

I held my breath, trying to freeze that second in time, stop it just long enough to step out of it—maybe even run away from this confrontation, as I had done with so many others. But there would be no running this time. I liked Stelson. And even though this wasn’t exactly how I’d pictured myself telling Daddy, it was all out there now. I would have to endure the rage I knew was about to break loose.

Daddy asked the question softly at first, in the sarcastic whisper he reserved for those he believed to be hard at understanding. “Are you out of your mind?”

“No,” I responded.
Stand, LaShondra. Stand in love.
“His name is Stelson, and we’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”

I put my hands behind my back because I didn’t know what else to do with them. My nails pressed into my palms. I knew that Jonathan and Momma were standing right next to me, probably praying for me, but I felt as if my father and I were the only two people in the room. Here was the man who had taught me to stay strong in the race, to keep my nose clean so “they” wouldn’t have anything on me, to put forth 110 percent so that I could keep up with “them.”

“Let m
e repeat the question.
ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?” He pounded his fist on his palm and sank lower so that we could meet eye to eye.

I took a deep breath. “Daddy, I know how you feel about white people. And I’m not asking you to change. Right now, I am only asking you to respect my decision to be with someone who is not black.”

“And the answer is NO!” Daddy screamed in my face. I took a step back, and he took one toward me. “Did you hear me? The answer is no! All this durned time, I’ve been thinking that if anybody would have a problem, it would be Jonathan, ‘cause he’s in the service. But you— come to my momma’s house with a white man! Do you know how. . . how stupid that is?”

My father had never called me or anything I did stupid— ever.
How could Daddy say that to me?
The stinging behind my eyes produced tears that I willed to keep in place, while the hurt inside me quickly converted itself to anger.

I followed his outburst with my own. “Do you know what’s stupid, Daddy?”

Momma reached for my arm, but I pulled away from her grasp. “The way you’re always going around here talking about how white people keep black people down, but I don’t see you doing anything to help the situation! You don’t vote! You haven’t mentored any of these young boys in the neighborhood who need role models, and you see them every day! You ain’t even a member of a black organization! All you do is
sit
around this house complaining and ruining everybody’s hopes and dreams! Well, I’m sorry yours got ruined, but
you
made the choice to
stay
angry all these years.”

“I didn’t have a choice!” Daddy yelled, coming within an inch of my face.

“Yes, you did! And you made it. You decided to be prejudiced and to pass it on to Jonathan and me. But I will not let your racist issues dictate what happens in my life, Daddy!”

“Is that what you think I am? A racist?” He stepped back.

“That’s exactly what you are! A closed-minded racist who goes around trying to make everybody think the same way you do! That’s what you are!” I yelled. Breaths came faster than I could pull them in and push them out, and I couldn’t stop myself from shaking.

“Well, I’m the racist who put clothes on your back and food on your plate and a roof over your head all these years! If I’m a racist, so be it! I know what I know—white people never mean you any good. And I’ll be a monkey’s uncle if my own daughter hasn’t sat up here and broke bread with the enemy.”

I lowered my trembling voice to gain control of it. “Stelson treats me better than any man I’ve ever dated. Isn’t that what every father wants for his daughter?”

Daddy looked at me and shook his head. His face, like melting wax, had slipped a few inches. Then, as he walked out of the living room, he said, “I used to be so proud of you.” He walked to the bedroom and closed the door.

My insides turned to mush, and my protective shield of anger dissolved. I was nothing but a mass of hurt and pain. Until now, I had never realized how much it meant to me that my father was proud of me. His adoration, his esteem, and his high regard for me was woven into my own sense of self and self-esteem. For once, I was devastated by the rejection that only a father can give.

“Shondra, he didn’t mean what he said.” I felt Jonathan’s hand on my shoulder. “He’s just upset right now.”

“You know how your Daddy is,” Momma added. “He’s just spoutin’ off right now. He’ll calm down in a minute.”

“But he
did
say it,” I cried.

The door to my parents’ bedroom swung open, and Daddy shouted, “And another thing—that white man is not welcome in this house!”

Oh, shut up!

It was almost comical, the way he added insult to injury by slamming the bedroom door shut after screaming.
Purposeful. Crafty. Destructive. Sounds like the work of the enemy.

I decided to practice one of the things my Sunday school teacher taught me years before. She’d said that when someone is going out of their way to make you miserable, recognize that it’s the enemy using that person to discourage you. Just like Daddy, I had a choice to make. I could be angry and bitter. Or I could pray for my father and forgive him—even if he never apologized or accepted Stelson. Holding a grudge against my father would only mean making his mistake all over again.

Father, I forgive him. I don’t care if he ever grows to like Stelson. I just don’t want this rift between the two of us.

I went home and bawled. 

Chapter
20
 

I
hid my new navy blue sailor jumpsuit in the suitcase I’d packed to spend the night at Aunt Emma Smith’s apartment while Momma and Daddy went out of town. Jonathan and I rarely spent time with the Smiths, so I figured whatever our parents were doing, it must have been important, because Momma didn’t bother to check my suitcase. She had specifically forbidden me to take that jumpsuit, but I
had
to. There were three more weeks until the start of second grade, and I was itching to wear that outfit. It had big gold buttons down the front of the heavy polyester blend, and the red stars on the sailor’s flap had a glittery shine to them.