No Weapon Formed (Boaz Brown) (15 page)

Stelson

Mornings were the worst.
Seemed as though his body had spent the night in a brawl and he had to recover
when the alarm clock buzzed. He’d caught the flu before and experienced the
achy exhaustion, fever, and congestion that accompanied the virus. He’d never
forget how it felt.

However, this was different.
Not only was he in pain and tired, he’d begun to notice things no flu virus
would produce.

As he parked in his reserved
slot, he closed his eyes again, hoping the white spots in his vision would
disappear.

He opened his eyes. White
spots gone. For now.

Stelson took the keys from
the ignition and got out of the car. He dropped his keys into his
pocket—or so he thought until her heard them hit the ground. He’d
miscalculated the position of his hand. Again.

“Hey, Brown,” Orson Maxwell,
the owner of an insurance agency in the building greeted as he waltzed to the
garage’s elevator.

“Morning, Maxwell.”

Stelson bent over to retrieve
his keys. He quickly grabbed his laptop bag from the back seat of the truck and
hoisted it on his left shoulder, which wasn’t his usual carrying spot. His
right side had weakened so much that he was even afraid to hold Zoe on that
side.

He locked the vehicle doors
from the panel switch, then jogged to catch up with Maxwell, who was apparently
holding the elevator for him. Suddenly, his right leg forgot how to step.
Stelson stumbled but his left foot remembered the routine and put him back on
track.

“Whoa! You alright there?”
Maxwell asked.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“Looked like you were about
to take a dive,” Maxwell chuckled nervously.

“Naaaa. I was just making
sure gravity still worked,” Stelson joked, though his mind reeled from this
bizarre loss of function. His muscles sometimes didn’t follow the direction his
brain gave them. Not that his brain was his friend, either, since it rarely
ceased to pound inside his skull.

He boarded the elevator with
Maxwell and they engaged in small-talk, which was something he hadn’t forgotten
how to do, thankfully. He could carry on a whole conversation and not pay
attention to one word, which was exactly how he made it to his floor.

“See you later,” Maxwell said
as Stelson exited.

Stelson wondered if this was
how it had been for his father. Did his father know that he was dying ahead of
time?

Stelson gave Helen a slight
‘good morning’, grabbed the coffee she’d prepared for him, walked into his
office and shut the door behind him.

He dropped his baggage behind
his desk and fell to his knees in prayer at the desk. He didn’t want to leave
his wife and children the same way his father had left his mother.

“Please, God. If not for me,
for LaShondra, Zoe and Seth.”

Unbeknownst to his wife,
Stelson had been reaching out to doctors on his own, ruling out the major
culprit: cancer.

Still, there was no
explanation for these peculiar symptoms. Just a bunch of guesses and hardly any
relief from the throbbing in his head. He had even missed the last finance
meeting at church because it was all he could do to go to work and back.

If LaShondra were still
working, he would have taken off a week’s worth of days by now so he could stay
home in peace and quiet. But with everybody home most of the day, he would be
less likely to find silence there than at the office.

“Brown,” Cooper called out,
knocking on the door.

Stelson quickly—too
quickly—rose to his chair, which made his head spin. He massaged his
forehead. “Yeah. Come in.”

Cooper’s head appeared. “You
all right?”

“Yeah.” Stelson let his hand
fall to the desk. “What’s up?”

“Got Dick Churchill coming in
at ten. You ready?”

“Almost. Let me show you the
numbers.”

Cooper entered the office and
the two men sat at the conference table reviewing the proposal for Churchill
Fabricating. Stelson pushed past the agonizing headache, listening to Cooper’s
last-minute tweaks and making adjustments to his computer’s files.

They were a good team. Always
had been. But today, Stelson wished he’d never met Cooper. He wished he didn’t
even have a job because he’d rather be somewhere flopped on a bed with a towel
covering his eyes indefinitely.

With the help of God and Excedrin,
Stelson made it through the Churchill meeting with a slight decrease in pain
and only a few spots here and there blinding his sight.

But he had to turn down lunch
with the men because the meeting had drained his energy. “Maybe next time.”

Cooper had flashed a disapproving
glance, which prompted Stelson to offer a false explanation for why he couldn’t
attend a lunch with one of their newest, most wealthy clients. “Got an event at
my son’s school today.”

Churchill smiled. “Family
first. I’ve got three boys of my own.”

Cooper winked, obviously
satisfied that Stelson had cleared up the tension.

Of course, telling a lie only
caused more tension for Stelson. In fact, this was his second lie today. When
Jim Moore had called earlier to see why Stelson hadn’t made the last finance team
meeting, Stelson had tried to tell him the truth, but failed.

“I’m not feeling so well,
Jim.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Got some kind of
virus. Maybe something more, I don’t know.”

“Aaah, you’ll pull through,”
Jim cheered him on.

A wave of anger had washed
over Stelson as Jim dismissed the admission. He remembered all the people who
had basically told him and his mother to be optimistic, look on the bright side
of things even as his father entered the final stages of cancer. Their comments
and churchy clichés could basically be summarized in three words: Buck up,
buckaroo!

Still, Stelson played along,
downplaying the breadth of his condition. “You’re right. It’s probably nothing.
Send me the minutes.”

Diverting Jim rather than
reaching out for prayer wasn’t helping anything, Stelson knew. Not to mention the
fact that he was lying to LaShondra through omission. But what good would it do
to get her worried? She’d just quit her job at his request. He had vowed to
take care of her and the kids. Would she be able to trust him if he let her
down now?

The only One Stelson didn’t
lie to was God. He told Him the truth: He was in pain. Running short on
patience and tolerance. And scared.

“The…c…a…t, cat…is…r…e…d, red,”
Seth sounded out the words in his take-home printed book. “The cat is red.”

“You did it, Seth! You can
read!”

My baby’s face lit up like he’d
won a million dollars. “I did?”

“Yes! That’s how you read,
Seth. You just put the sounds of the letters together!” I jumped from the
kitchen chair, snatching him up with me, swinging him around and around.

He pumped both fists in the
air as we chanted, “Seth can read! Seth can read!”

Zoe beat on her high chair.
“Aaaaach! Aaaach!” she tried to join us.

“Momma, can I call PawPaw and
tell him?”

“You certainly may.”

I set my son on the ground
and dialed my father’s number for him. With all due enthusiasm, Seth informed
Daddy that he could read. I heard my father yelling through the phone,
congratulating my son who, by that point, was nearly out of breath from
excitement. “One day, I’m gonna read the big black book about the slaves,
PawPaw, but I can’t now because I don’t know how to read big words yet.”

I reached for the phone.
“Gimme.”

“We’ll talk to you later,
Daddy. Seth just wanted you to know, all right?”

I hung up before Daddy could
deny that he was still subtly pushing his agenda into Seth’s mind. When a four year
old sings “We Shall Overcome” and “Swing Low Sweet Chariot” in the bathtub,
somebody is on the march.

“Seth, don’t sing those songs
around Daddy, okay?” I said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I had to pick my battles with
Daddy.

Seth couldn’t wait for Stelson
to get home. He practiced reading the book three times as we waited on the
couch. When he heard the latch turn, Seth grabbed his book, hopped down, and
swished his footed pajamas across the living room floor to greet his father.
“Daddy! Daddy! Guess what?”

“Not now, Seth,” my husband
pushed Seth aside.

“But I can—”

“I said
not now
.”

Seth’s shoulders slumped. His
face followed.

Stelson fussed at me, “What’s
he doing up anyway? He should be in bed by now.”

“I gave him special
permission to stay up late for you.”

“Bad idea.”

Stelson hung his jacket on
the coat rack.

I could have wrung his neck.

Seth sniffed, calling my
attention to his bruised feelings. I walked him on to bed. “It’s alright, Seth.
Daddy’s not feeling well, remember?”

“But he’s
never
feeling well,” Seth moaned. “Maybe if I read to him, he’ll get better.”

Blinking back tears, I knelt
beside Seth’s bed with him for bedtime prayers. “And God, please help my Daddy
to feel better so he can listen to me read. I know he will like it. In Jesus’
name, Amen.”

I was glad somebody felt like
praying for my husband because it sure wasn’t me. But before I could get back
to our room and let him have it, he was already in bed. With his work clothes
on.

I switched on the light.

“Turn it off,” he said, his
head beneath a pillow. “I can still see the light.”

“You’re gonna see the light
for
real
if you can’t treat us any better than this.”
Sit up here and hurt
my baby like this. Who do you think you are anyway, buster?

“Shondra. Please. I’m tired.
My head hurts. I can’t.”

“
You
can’t? How about
I
can’t?
Seth
can’t.”

Enraged, he hopped out of
bed, stepped toward me, and switched off the light himself. “If you don't stop,
I’m going to a hotel. I cannot argue with you tonight.”

“How you gonna go to a hotel?
It’s not in the budget.” I slid my neck to one side.

“You can be really evil when
you want to, you know?” he said.

“Look who’s talking!”

He put his hands on his ears.
“Stop yelling.”

I lowered my voice. “I’m not
yelling.”

“Could you just leave me
alone? That’s all I’m asking.”

“Must be nice to come home
from work and not have to take care of anybody else.”

He walked back to the bed,
pushed his feet into his shoes. “Look, I’ve got travel points and I’m more than
willing to use them if you can’t control yourself.”

I’m gonna be honest: If I’d
had my own job, my own money coming in, there’s no way I would have tried to
stop my husband from leaving that night. I probably would have told him to let
the doorknob hit him where the good Lawd split him. But when he grabbed his
wallet off the night stand, I had visions of me, Seth, and Zoe sitting out on
the curb homeless.

“Whatever, Stelson. I’m not
going to push you out of this house.”

“Thank you.” He collapsed on
the bed. Kicked his shoes off again. “Good night.”

Lord, I got to get myself
back together because I can’t live with this foolishness.

My shoe selection was still
limited to flats, preferably flip-flops, thanks to my almost-healed toe. I’d
tried to attend a few classes at the gym but the moves were too much for my
foot. My best bet was the elliptical rider. My feet stayed planted in one spot,
and I could roll my weight toward the instep to relieve the pressure every five
minutes or so.

In only three sessions, I had
worked myself up to forty-five minutes, burning almost 400 calories. The
children’s play center was a godsend. I could take a shower and get dressed
after the workout knowing that Zoe was in good hands.

The water temperature in the
gym shower was not conducive to an invigorating experience. I guess they didn’t
want us getting carried away with our break from the kids, which would explain
why there was no bath tub. Seriously, if they’d put a tub in there, I would
have brought my Ajax and my Pine Sol, cleaned it out, and spent an hour soaking
in peace.

I lathered up my sponge
twice, thankful that I wasn’t rushed by the baby swing’s timer. Zoe liked the
college-age young lady in the “Barnyard” 2-hour daycare, which was a relief to
me because my baby girl could be really picky with strangers. Seth, on the
other hand, would have stayed with just about anyone when he was her age. He
was so ready to get around, he’d made up his own awkward way of scooting around
on his bottom before he figured out how to crawl. Never a dull moment since
then. And Zoe was bound to take off any day. She was rocking and moving
backwards already.

Wait a minute. Are my kids
and my family all I think about now?

I tried to remember the last
time I had thought about something that didn’t involve laundry, food, or
someone in either the Brown or Smith household.

No luck. My days and nights
were filled with…serving.

I needed recess already.
Stelson probably needed one, too. We hadn’t had any “us” time since before Zoe
was born.

That’s it. We need a
mini-vacation.
A quick
flight, a nice hotel with a view, good food, easy conversation and great sex.

Seth would be happy to bounce
between my father and Jonathan for a few days. And according to Peaches, her
mother would be more than happy to keep Zoe, so long as we didn’t mind her
spoiling Zoe rotten.

After getting dressed and
signing my sweetness out of the Barnyard, I checked my calendar to make sure
there was no note about weekend business for Stelson. Next, I called to review
the balance of Stelson’s frequent flyer miles. We had enough to book roundtrip
flights, but I needed to check with him about hotel points.

I was so excited about our
soon-to-be plans I went ahead and made arrangements with the sitters. Peaches’
mother squealed, “Ooh yaaas! I can’t wait to get that butterball over here!”

Of course, Daddy had to say
something negative. “Make sure you watch the weather forecast. Might rain.”

“A little rain never hurt
anybody,” I chirped.

“Yeah, you right. But a lot
of rain will. Watched the news the other day and they said a whole house fell
into a sinkhole…”

I barely listened as my
father recapped the top ten horror stories he’d probably been watching for the
past twenty-four hours on news TV. “Is there any good news on television?” I
finally asked.

“Naw. Ain’t nothin’ good
happening,” he fussed. “People just crazy these days. They’ll blow your head
off over an iPhone and sit up in the courtroom with no remorse at all!”

“All right. I’ll catch up
with you later, Daddy.”

On second thought, I called
Jonathan to see if he would serve as the main sitter. Maybe Seth and his
girlfriend’s son could have a playdate. I was fairly certain that Daddy knew
how to entertain Seth for a few hours twice a week, but once Daddy ran out of
energy on a full weekend with Seth, I had no doubt my father would park his
grandson in front of CNN for hours on end so he could get a good dose of reality.

Jonathan agreed to step in,
which put me at ease and reignited my giddiness. I couldn’t wait until Stelson
got home to finalize the plans. Dropping by his office unannounced wasn’t my
usual M.O., but the last time I’d done it, he’d been more than grateful.

“Hi, Helen. Is Stelson in?”

“Yes, LaShondra. He’s with
clients now, but they should be finishing up soon. You and Zoe want to take a
seat?”

“Sure. We’ll wait.”

Helen, of course, reached out
toward my baby, but Zoe snuggled in tight, clutching my clothes. “She has to
warm up to you,” I said.

“Awww. She’s so adorable. You
two thought about entering her in pageants? She’d win hands-down.”

“You know, I’ve never
considered it.” Not to mention I had my reservations about pageants anyway. All
that makeup and fake eyelashes on little girls didn’t seem like something I’d
want to subject Zoe to unless she somehow found out about them on her own and
asked to compete.

“My niece puts her kids in
them. They’ve won a ton of scholarship money already, and they’re not near as
cute as Zoe, if you ask me,” she laughed at herself.

“I’m sure they’re beautiful,”
I took up for Helen’s peeps.

Stelson’s office door opened
and three people dressed in professional attire—two men and one
woman—shook his hand as they exited. “We look forward to working with
you, Mr. Brown. We’ll be in touch,” the older gentleman said.

“Same here,” my husband
agreed with a smile.

He’s in a great mood.

 I stood. Stelson held
the door open and I followed him into the office. I tiptoed to kiss his lips.

He gave Zoe a kiss, too.

“Babe, I was thinking. Let’s
get away this weekend. I’m overwhelmed. You’re overworked. We need some time
together.”

The strained expression
covered his face again. He returned to his computer. “No. I don’t think so.”

My heart dropped. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“And why not?”

He released the computer
mouse. “I mean, you barged in here with all these plans…we didn’t have a
discussion. We haven’t figured this into the budget. We have to plan
differently now with one income.”

He never would have been able
to throw the money situation in my face if I’d had a job. I sank into one of
the guest chairs and bounced Zoe on my knee. “You’ve got enough frequent flyer
miles. And maybe enough points—”

“I said no. I’m not going.”

“So if it’s not money, then
what is it?”

He exhaled at me as though I
was some nutcase asking him for five dollars. “I’m not
up
to going. I
don’t
feel
like going. I’ve had a few headaches lately, in case you’ve
forgotten.”

“How
could
I forget?”
slipped from my mouth.

He shook his head and
attended to the computer screen again. “Is that all you wanted?”

“No. I want
you
. I
need you. The
real
you.”

My husband leaned back in his
chair and ran his fingers through his hair, catching the bulk at the nape of
his neck. “I can’t, okay? I’m not trying to push you out, I don’t mean to upset
you. But I can’t be there for you right now. It’s taking every ounce of energy,
every prayer in me to come to the office and work through these headaches.
Capiche?”

“You don’t have to be so mean
to me,” I scolded. “I just watched you put on a happy face for your clients.
You can act civilized when you want to. Why are you giving
me
the worst
of you?”

He took a deep breath. “I
don’t know.”

“Well, you need to figure it
out. Soon. I don’t deserve to be your emotional and verbal punching bag.” I
grabbed my purse from the back of the chair and hoisted Zoe to my hip. “Are we
going on a vacation this weekend or not?”

“Not.”

“Fine. I’ll cancel
everything. We’ll continue in our own private hell.”

“Stop being so dramatic. This
is not hell. At least not for you.”

I seethed, “You don’t know
what’s happening inside my head.”

“I couldn’t have said it
better myself,” he barked back.

Helen said good-bye to me as
I breezed past her with Zoe flopping up and down beside me. I threw a quick
“bye” over my shoulder and dashed to my car. I locked Zoe into her seat then
sank into the driver’s seat in just enough time to avoid a public meltdown.

My intimate weekend plans had
come crashing down, not only on my head, but on my heart. How could he be so
abrupt? So brash and sullen?

The more I thought about what
had just happened in Stelson’s office on top of my upside-down-world, my heart
broke.

Zoe must have recognized my
despair. She started crying. We would just have to be two crying Browns that
day because I was in no position to comfort her. I wished I could take her
somewhere and drop her off for a few hours while I licked my wounds.

Alas, the task of caring for
her continued. She downed a bottle of baby food. I wiped her face, changed her
diaper, laid her on her tummy in the playpen for a nap. Meanwhile, I crossed as
much off my to-do list as possible with cooking and cleaning. In an hour she’d
wake up. In two hours, we’d pick up Seth and my main job would be to keep them
both busy until Stelson got home with his sorry attitude.

This was my life now.