Feelin' the Vibe (7 page)

After going the wrong way, following bogus directions, we arrived at the cafeteria several minutes later. Mrs. Jabowski was
doing all the talking. Taylor seemed to be in a daze, and I was concocting a smooth way to transition into discussing my run
for Congress. I asked them what they wanted and told them to have a seat.

While I was ordering the food, Curtis called. “You tell her yet, man?”

“Can you believe her father had a stroke today?”

“No,” he said, almost as if he was humored.

“Nah, seriously. And it ain’t looking good. They’re saying he could possibly not speak again.”

“Dawg, that’s tragic.”

“Exactly.”

“Man, you just going to have to spring it on her. I got the press and everything lined up for tomorrow morning. She has to
be there.
You
have to be there.”

I sighed. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Nah, I’m just making sure we’re on track. We’re depending on you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

As I walked over to the table carrying their food, I realized that it was now or never, do or die. I put the tray down and
went back to get the drinks and condiments. I came back to them discussing plans to call the assistant pastors and deacons
and the spokesperson at the church. I said, “Do you guys think it may be premature to put out there that his voice is gone?”

“Devin, it’s Friday. What are we going to do about Sunday? Somebody else has to preach and we need to make sure they’re prepared,”
Taylor snapped.

“I know, baby. I’m just saying that maybe we let them know he’s been hospitalized and ask them to give the family space. We
don’t need the whole county talking about him losing his voice.”

Mrs. Jabowski put her hand on top of my hand. “Devin, I think you’re right. We don’t want people trying to snatch Bishop’s
throne before he’s ready.”

Taylor huffed, “Ma, someone’s going to have to take his throne if he can’t speak.”

Shaking her head and sighing as if the thought upset her, Mrs. Jabowski rested her hand on her chest and said, “Taylor, prayer
changes things.”

“Mrs. J, I agree.”

Taylor’s eyes darted in my direction, like she felt I was patronizing her mother in vain. She said, “Ma, you have to accept
the fact that the church may have to make some major organizational changes.”

“Not until I speak to my husband,” Mrs. J said humbly, and folded her arms.

I smiled at her, because that was what made her special. She knew how to be the wife of a powerful man. In spite of her husband’s
condition, she still looked at him as the leader, voice or no voice. She wasn’t moving until she received his nod of approval
and she knew that didn’t make her any less of a woman.

Taylor shook her head. “Ma, you can’t wait until then to start making decisions. That could be next week.”

I interjected, “I think it’s best that you should announce that he’s been hospitalized. Have Rev. Baker preach on Sunday and
deal with this next week. Can you imagine the hysteria that would surround your father losing his voice?”

Taylor smirked and appeared more resistant. Mrs. J nodded. “You’re right, Devin. You’re so right.” She sighed. “You know,
I prayed for you.”

Both Taylor and I frowned, confused by where she was going. She continued, “It’s always been Bishop’s hope that his son would
take his place when he was no longer able to.” She chuckled. “Being that we had all girls, we prayed so many nights that they
would marry men with a calling.”

I was silent, because I definitely had a calling, but it wasn’t ministry. My calling was to help communities, all communities.
My message was wider than what a church could hold.

She smiled. “Devin, you got ministry written all over you. You should stop fighting it.”

“Nah, that’s not me. I…” It felt like the opportune time to announce the election, but I changed my mind. “I have a lot of
growing to do and…”

I looked at Taylor, thinking she’d co-sign. She shrugged. My neck snapped back, trying to interpret her response. We’d discussed
this. In fact, she was the least religious person in her family. Certainly, she didn’t want to be married to a preacher.

Taylor rolled her eyes. “Well, Devin. I’m not saying you’ve been called to preach, but I definitely think you have ministry
on you.”

What?
I thought for sure that she knew I had no plans of preaching, but the look in her eyes said she’d been praying with her parents.
Okay, I meet her dropping-it-like-it’s-hot at a party, we have a hot-steamy romance, I marry her, and now she wants me to
take over her father’s church. I looked at her again.
Who is this girl?

“Yeah, my ministry is to help people.” I looked deep into Mrs. J’s eyes and then into Taylor’s eyes. “That’s the ministry
you guys see. In fact, I plan to announce tomorrow that I’ve filed to run for Congress, District Four.”

Taylor snapped, “What the—” She stopped abruptly.

I shrugged, and Mrs. J looked at Taylor. “You didn’t know.”

Taylor’s eyes burned through me like torches. “Devin, what are you talking about? I thought you said—”

I nodded. “I know what I said. Congressman Grayford decided to retire two weeks ago and he called me himself. It was perfect
timing, and chances are it could be my only time.” I shrugged. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Talk to me. That’s what you were supposed to do.” Her voice was loud, piercing, obviously shocked and hurt.

I reached across the table to touch her. She snatched her arm back and got up from the table. I stood to follow her and Mrs.
J grabbed my arm. “Devin, have a seat. Let her calm down.”

I took a deep breath and contemplated if I should chase her. Then I looked at Mrs. J and she appeared calm and open. She was
what I needed at the moment. When I sat back down, she said, “Weren’t you married before?” I nodded, baffled. She continued,
“Where do you think you went wrong in that relationship?”

“Well, my ex-wife tricked me. She trapped me by getting pregnant, and when I found out—”

“You left her. Is that what you did?”

I took a deep breath. That sounded harsh, but I shrugged, because I guess technically that’s what happened.

“Do you think there was any other alternative?”

“No, not really. After that, I resented her and I felt like she was a liar.”

“Is there a difference between a liar and someone who just didn’t tell the truth?”

I paused and reflected and wondered if, in fact, there was a difference. Instead of responding, I shrugged and nodded in her
direction for her to continue.

“If you want your marriage to last, there is no difference. A lie is the same as withholding the truth, the same as not exposing
your intentions, the same as blatantly not giving your business partner access to the company documents.”

My head lowered. I felt embarrassed. She lifted my chin with her finger. “Don’t feel bad. Feel informed. You guys rushed to
the altar. Bishop didn’t do your marriage counseling because you’d been married before and you know he doesn’t condone second
marriages. But the fact that you had been married before is all the more reason to counsel you, because you think quitting
is an option. Devin, quitting, lying, withholding the truth, these are not options when you make a vow to another person.”
She cleared her throat and continued to strike. “Honest communication is the only way marriages last. You are not a single
man anymore. You are a unit, and decisions are made as a unit—as a family. Here you are running for Congress, and Taylor is
the last to know. That’s not right.”

“You’re right, Mrs. J. I really never looked at it like that.”

“Now you go out there and find your wife and let her know that this won’t happen again.”

I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank God. He put all the rules in the Good Book.”

I went searching for Taylor. I walked the same path we took to the cafeteria but couldn’t find her anywhere. I called her
cell phone and she answered. No greeting, she just started speaking. “I refuse to be a wife of a politician at this age!”

“Are you saying you want out of our marriage?”

“No, I’m saying I want you to pull out. We said three to four years from now. What is the urgency?” she shouted.

“First of all, calm down and tell me where you are so we can talk face-to-face.”

“Devin, I really don’t want to see you right now. I’m shocked. I’m hurt and I feel betrayed. I feel like you knew you planned
to run and you cornered me into a position that I would have to agree.” She sniffed. “We’ve been married for six months. We’re
still learning to cope with this marriage and you decided that now is a great time to run. Devin, you are self-absorbed.”

She hung up, and I stood there shaking my head. I really had no intentions of hurting her. I was just a prepared man approached
with an opportunity to follow my dream, awaiting the right opportunity to prepare my wife. And it just so happens, the perfect
timing turned into the worst timing, and now I looked like an asshole. I wandered back to the ICU. Taylor sat there looking
like a live volcano, as if sulfur were rising from her ears and hot lava pouring from her scalp. Clearly she was hot to the
touch, so I stood steps away from her. Toni and Walter looked at me pitifully. Trying to maintain my composure, I nodded and
asked, “So, what are they saying?”

Toni huffed, obviously feeding off of her sister’s emotions. “They’re moving him to a floor now. We’re just waiting for Mom
to come down. Where is she?”

I gasped. “Ah, man, she’s still in the cafeteria. Let me go back up there and find her.”

Taylor brushed past me. “Don’t worry. I’ll go.”

Damn if I really wanted to deal with this in the hospital. I thought maybe I should follow her. Then opted not to. I slouched
down in my chair and put my head in my hands and began to wonder if I was really cut out for all the “unit” shit that Mrs.
J explained. Isn’t flexibility a part of marriage, too? There should be no time constraint on wanting your partner to be all
they can be.

I
blamed him and he blamed me and nobody was talking. Our house was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. I was tired of living
like this, because each day it felt like we’d grown more and more distant. He discovered something ugly about me and he showed
me an ugly side of him, but was it worth the noncommunication? I felt lonely in my own home and I wanted to make it right.

The television in the sitting area in my bedroom woke me and I stretched out to find him missing for the twelfth straight
night. I sat up and looked around the column separating the first portion of our bedroom, and Kenneth was stretched out on
the couch. Our sexual encounters for so long had been orchestrated:
Have sex at 2 a.m. this night, that will make your chances better. Don’t have sex while taking this medication. And,
etc., etc. I thought for sure he’d be anxious to make passionate love, with no worries of conceiving or not.

I looked down at myself in embarrassment. A black bustier, garter belt, stockings. Still, my husband preferred to look at
news clips of sweaty men running up and down the court. Fighting the notion that he was no longer attracted to me, I called
his name. Partially hoping this was unintentional behavior was something my insecurities were just reading more into, I prayed
he didn’t answer. Maybe he’d been so tired for the last couple of nights that he stumbled on the couch, planning to get in
the bed after
SportsCenter
went off but falling asleep before he had the chance. My heart dropped when he said, “Yes.”

He was wide awake. Had he been up all night or was he just waking, like me? Whatever the case, why was he over there and I
over here, lonely? I said, “Come, get in the bed.”

He drew in a long, deep breath that rattled me. What the hell was going on with this man? Finally, he answered, “You know
the Mental Health Summit is today at the center. I need to get up and start getting things together.”

“I know, but isn’t the staff handling the setup and all? I mean—”

“Didn’t they handle it the last time and there were missing mics and missing vendor tables?” he snapped.

“I mean, okay. But it’s six o’clock. Are you leaving now?” He huffed, and suddenly I became irritated. “Kenneth, I’m just
asking.”

“Clark, you know I have a lot on my mind and I like to meditate before major events. So why are you asking a million questions?”

“Did I ask a million or did I ask two?”

“It doesn’t matter. I just need you to be quiet. I mean, just be still for a moment while I rest my mind.”

I bit my bottom lip, because I was seconds away from cursing him out. He had a lot on him and I knew it, so I didn’t want
to be so shallow to think that his lack of affection had all to do with me. Maybe it was just stress. Maybe the summit had
been his primary focus.

I hopped out of bed to put on something less seductive, yet hoping he’d make mention of my attire. When I walked past him,
he didn’t even look up. A piece of me wanted to throw a remote control at him. It wasn’t even worth it, though. I doubt he’d
feel it as he gazed into space in a comatose manner.