Into Each Life

by Shelia E. Bell

  Without so much as a slip in his stride, he dropped his bike on the manicured lawn surrounding the lake. In less than two steps he was at her side. Before she could so much as plant her pink and white sneakers on the ground, Prodigal grabbed her bike handle and steadied it while she quickly hopped off. She brushed him aside, but he didn’t move away, keeping her clear of the thorn bushes around them.

  “I think I like you,” he whispered without looking at her.

  She watched him the way a kitten watches everything that moves. “I like you, too.” Her voice whipped around his face like the summer wind.

  Desperate to prove his affection for her, he pulled the branches of a giant thorn bush closer and without warning pricked his thumb bravely, not making any sound of pain. He handed the branch to her. She regarded it silently, and then quickly making up her mind, stabbed her own thumb. They stoically squeezed until tiny splatters of blood poured from each of their thumbs. Simultaneously, they pressed their bloody thumbs together allowing their blood to mix.

  “I vow to always be your friend, Teary, even when we grow old, die and go to heaven,” Prodigal said, as his eyes innocently lingered on her cherub face. “Now it’s your turn. Do you promise, too?”

  She slowly nodded her head up and down in agreement.

  Chapter 2

  Predestined To Be

  Prodigal’s parents, Ruth and Solumun, were teenagers when they met and fell in love. It was during a neighborhood tent revival that was held every summer by Pastor Marcus Grace, Sr. that the two of them met. When Ruth laid eyes on Solumun’s lean body as he waltzed under the giant white revival tent, she thought her heart would drop. Ruth giggled as she walked alongside one of her friends underneath the hot and musty tent.

  “Look, there’s that boy I told you about the other night,” Ruth said. “Girl, he’s so good looking I can hardly stand to look at him.”

  “You’re right, he is cute,” her friend squealed in agreement.

  “Look how tall he is. I bet he’s every bit of six feet, and he’s skinny just like I want my man to be.”

  “Ruth, you better hush before somebody hears you,” her friend giggled.

  “I don’t care. Look at how neat his Afro is; not a hair out of place.”

  “Girl, come on here. We need to find a seat before revival starts.” But Ruth ignored her. She was in a world of her own as the object of her affection made his way toward where she was standing.

  “Excuse me,” he said to Ruth and her friend as he walked up and eased by them to take a seat.

  Ruth thought at that moment she was going to pee on herself. She tried not to stare into his soft brown eyes. And the way he moved, his broad shoulders oozed confidence without cockiness. During the three hour revival service, other than an Amen or Praise the Lord, absolute silence was shared between them.

  When service ended, Ruth lingered a moment, wanting to take in the boy once more before she traipsed off to find her parents at the front of the tent.

  Without warning, he asked, “Hey, what’s your name?” Ruth was tongue tied and couldn’t speak. “You do have a name don’t you?” His voice resonated with boldness, reminding Ruth of their youth minister’s thunderous set of vocal cords.

  She, in turn, responded in a shy demure voice. “Yeah, I have a name. I’m Ruth. Ruth Peace. What’s yours?” she managed.

  Even though she was almost fifteen years old, she’d never had a boyfriend. Her strict parents wouldn’t allow such a thing anyway, and the boys that attended their small community church were all like brothers to her. She would just about puke if she thought any of them liked her as a girlfriend. Ruth had plenty of friends at school too, but boys seldom approached her or the other girls in her group. It might have been because they were often teased and called religious freaks because they prayed before eating or taking an exam. But she could care less what anyone said or thought of her.

  “My name’s Solumun Runsome. I haven’t seen you around here since this revival started, and I've been coming here all week long,” he said.

  By this time, she couldn’t help herself. She stared deep into the fine-looking boy’s captivating baby browns.

  “Are you coming back tomorrow night?” he asked. “You know it’s the last night.” He sure hoped she would say yes. He wanted the chance to get to know her. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t spotted her before. He attended Benton High but he’d never seen her around there, of that he was sure. He could only assume that she lived across town and attended some other school.

  “I’ll be here. But even if I didn’t wanna come, my Momma and Daddy would make me anyway.”

  “I know how that goes. Mine too. So, I tell you what. If you get here before me, then why don’t you save me a seat? And if I get here first, I’ll do the same. How about that?”

  “Okay, it’s a deal. But I really need to go now. I have to find my parents. I don’t want to make ‘em mad.”

  “Yeah, you do that.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” She smiled and turned to walk away.

  Five years later, after that fateful meeting, they stood before Pastor Grace and exchanged wedding vows.

  ♦

  Prodigal often found it rather difficult to fathom the deep and abiding love his Momma and Daddy shared. It was a love that remained constant and very much alive - until the night their lives changed forever.

  Prodigal tossed and turned night after night as visions of that evening terrorized him while he slept.

  They were headed home from Sunday night praise and worship service. Like always, the drive home was full of their chattering.

  “Hey, kids, do y’all want to stop and get some ice cream?” Solumun asked.

  “Yes sir,” Prodigal and his oldest sister, Fantasia squealed in unison. His little sister, Hope, squealed yes and a broad smile covered her angelic face at the mention of ice cream.

  Solumun drove the Chevy Celebrity into the Malt Shoppe parking lot and they all climbed out. Ruth held Hope’s chubby body on her hip. Prodigal surveyed the sight before him and felt like the luckiest boy alive to have such a close family. Many of the kids in his school had parents who were divorced. He thanked God every night when he said his prayers for his Momma and Daddy.

  After putting in his request and receiving his order, Prodigal took a lick of his chocolate and strawberry swirl ice cream.

  “Fantasia, let me have a lick of yours,” Prodigal begged his sister.

  “No, I’m not giving you anything. You’re always begging,” Fantasia huffed.

  “I’m not either. I just wanted to see how green ice cream tastes. You’re so stingy,” he yelled.

  “I’m not. You’re just greedy,” Fantasia retorted and stuck out her tongue at her brother.

  “Okay, stop it you two. No arguing tonight,” Ruth fussed. “Just finish your ice cream so we can go home.”

  Prodigal smiled when he witnessed his daddy kissing the vanilla ice cream from his Momma’s lips. After finishing up their treats, the Runsome family made their way home.

  “Okay, kids, go take your baths and get ready for bed,” his mother said as they walked inside the house.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Fantasia answered as Prodigal mumbled an inaudible response.

  Hope had fallen sound asleep and was nestled in her mother’s arms. Ruth studied her chocolate smooth as silk skin and used the back of her work worn hand to caress her baby girl’s chubby cheeks. Her Rockwell figurine eyes were perfectly formed and reminded Ruth of Solumun. Her coarse black hair shielded her deep temples, which pounded like the beat of a drum. Solumun certainly left a piece of himself in each of them.

  “Let me have her. I’ll put her to bed,” Solumun said.

  Ruth kissed Hope’s hair then passed her to Solumun. He gingerly laid her down while Ruth lingered in the kitchen. After Prodigal and Fantasia bathes, they kissed their parents good night and went to bed.

  Within minutes Prodigal heard his parents down in the kitchen laughing a
nd talking. Sometimes he’d see his Daddy squeeze on his Momma’s booty. She’d let out a yelp, and then they would go in their bedroom, being careful to close the door behind them.

  As they stood face to face, Solumun reached out and drew Ruth close to him.

  “Girl, you know you’re some kind of fine to me. You still look doggone good after all these years and three babies later,” he complimented his wife.

  “Boy, please, I bet you say that to all the girls,” Ruth teased back.

  “No girl has my eye but you.” He moved his hands over the firmness of her bottom.

  “Is that right?” she crooned and caressed his chest.

  “Every time I look at you, I get excited, woman. You know I’m right.”

  “Naw, tell me about it,” Ruth whispered.

  “You already know what you do to me.” His voice had become heavy and his words sounded more like moans.

  “No, tell me. What do I do to you?” she spoke seductively.

  “I can show you better than I can tell you. Come on and give me some of that good lovin,” he commanded with a sheepish grin on his face. When Ruth moved and filled the space between them he reached out, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her thick hipped, shapely body against his. His wide lips pressed against hers and he parted them with his tongue.

  Ruth tasted the black walnut ice cream on his breath. She loved him with all of her soul.

  He gently hoisted her up on the Formica kitchen countertop. His hands eagerly traced the familiar outline of her body.

  “Ahhh.” Her moans revealed her satisfaction. She could never get enough of Solumun, and he definitely couldn’t get his fill of her. He grunted in obvious pleasure, reveling in the warm moistness nestled between his wife’s Tina Turner legs. With one hand, she fumbled with his leather belt buckle, and with the other one, she pulled down the zipper on his black polyester trousers.

  Without warning, he abruptly pulled back and grabbed his sweaty forehead.

  “Hey, baby, I’m feeling a little lightheaded,” he stated.

  “Well, come on, let's go lay down,” Ruth said releasing a sexy, low key cat laugh. “I told you I was always going to have that kind of an effect on you, now didn’t I?”

  Before either of them could take a step toward their bedroom, Solumun collapsed and landed on the cold tile floor.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?” Ruth questioned in a worried tone. She called out his name. “Solumun?” He stared straight ahead. Ruth screamed frantically. She reached out for him, being careful to cradle his head in the palms of her small hands. “Solumun!” she screamed again with fear swiftly rising in her voice. A faint smile crossed his face before his eyes closed.

  Fantasia and Prodigal were awakened by the screams of their mother. They hopped out of their beds and bolted downstairs. The screams woke Hope and she began to cry loudly but no one stopped to pacify her this time.

  “Call an ambulance,” Ruth yelled out.

  “Momma, what’s wrong?” Fantasia was terrified when she stepped in the kitchen and saw her father lying on the floor unconscious.

  “Everything is going to be alright. Just do as I say and call 911 now,” she ordered.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Prodigal asked as he watched his mother cradle his daddy against her chest. Solumun didn’t move a muscle. His hands dangled from his side. “Why isn’t he getting up, Momma?”

  “Listen, Prodigal. Your daddy’s going to be just fine,” she tried to reassure him.

  Fantasia ran back to where her daddy lay, with tears streaming down her face. “Momma, the ambulance is on the way.”

  Minutes later, when the paramedics arrived at the Runsome residence, Prodigal realized that everything would not be alright. Not ever again.

  chapter 3

  Into Each Life

  Ruth hid in her room underneath the bed covers for weeks after Solumun’s death. Solumun was always the picture of perfect health. There was no sign of anything being wrong with him, so when the doctor told her that he died from a brain aneurysm, Ruth was even more devastated.

  Prodigal retreated into his own private world of grief. He didn’t know how he would face life without his father. Who would teach him how to be a man? Who would play catch with him now? Who would do the things with him that only a Daddy could do?

  Across the street, at the Fullalove house, Teary was full of questions. She understood that Mr. Runsome was with God but everything had changed between her and Prodigal. Teary was worried about her best friend. When he was sad, it made her sad.

  “Momma, Prodigal’s no fun any more. He’s always acting sad and he hardly ever wants to hang out with me,” Teary complained.

  “Honey, you just have to pray for Prodigal,” Teary’s mother told her one evening.

  Teary hated to see Prodigal going through such pain. She didn’t know how to help her friend. She tried to spend extra time with him but that was hard. He refused many times to come outside or visit her. When she went to see him, all they did was sit and stare at the TV set. He didn’t even want to ride his bike to Willow Lake, and that was supposed to be their favorite spot.

  Teary was at a lost as to what to do about Prodigal, which is why she went to her parents for answers. “Momma, why did God take Mr. Runsome away? Prodigal and his whole family are always sad now. I thought when someone goes to heaven to be with God that it’s supposed to be a happy time.” Teary looked puzzled.

  “Honey, it is good to go to heaven. But when someone we love dies, it still hurts because we love that person sooo much and we miss them too. That’s how Prodigal and his family are feeling right now, honey.” Ruth stroked Teary’s hair. Her only sister Sara, sat and listened to. “Baby, we don’t always understand why things happen the way they do. We just have to keep our faith.”

  “Yeah, your mother’s right," her father interrupted. “God is in control and everything will work out, you’ll see. Prodigal is going to be just fine, just give him some time.”

  “Okay,” Teary sighed and stood up. Teary nodded in agreement. Sara didn’t’ say a word, but instead turned back toward the TV and started watching the rest of Martin. But Teary still didn’t quite understand why Mr. Runsome was gone and why God took him. All she knew was that her best friend was sad and there was nothing she could do about it.

  ♦

  Prodigal stood in the foyer of their house reading his father’s favorite passage of scripture that hung on the wall. As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.

  Prodigal thought about how every morning before going off to work, his father gathered the family around the kitchen table and prayed. Prodigal could hear his daddy’s baritone voice in his mind and found himself remembering the way his daddy prayed. “Lord, you are good and I thank you for waking us up this morning. Bless my family and bless me to be the man you would have me to be dear Lord.’”

  Sometimes while he prayed, Prodigal and Fantasia elbowed each other to see if they could make one another holler while Hope squirmed around. Prodigal would peak out of one eye and sneak a look at Hope. If she looked his way, he’d make a funny face and she would start giggling every time. He always managed to close his eyes before his Momma caught him. After what seemed like forever and a day, his Daddy finished. “And so I thank you right now, Father. Amen.”

  Before Solumun died, the Runsome clan attended church two or three nights every week. Now months had passed since his Solumun’s death and Prodigal and his family had been to church only a few times. The pangs of grief were still far too great for his mother to bear.

  Ruth started working longer hours at the hospital. Being a registered nurse was demanding, but it helped her deal with Solumun’s death by keeping her busy, too busy for her to think of all she had lost when he died. She tried to exercise her faith by believing that in time, everything would be alright, but she was finding it more difficult than easier. She missed her husband so much, and no matter how much she prayed, the sting of grief plagued her mentally and
spiritually. Whenever she attended church, she felt a fresh dose of pain. Every where she turned, she imagined Solumun’s towering figure, whether in the vestibule, Sunday school classroom, or the sanctuary. She couldn’t bear sitting on the pew without him beside her.

  Fantasia, being the oldest of the Runsome children, took over most of the daily routine of preparing meals and performing household chores. She tried to help her mother keep up some strength and maintain her sanity, but nobody seemed to realize that Fantasia missed her father too. She retreated into her own world filled with dreams of one day escaping the pain and sadness that, to her, was a part of Broknfield.

  Family was precious but friends added a stability which they all needed. Sara and Trina filled that role for Fantasia. Trina lived five houses away from Fantasia and was just as smart, if not smarter than Fantasia. An only child, and a spoiled one at that, everything was always about her. Whenever the Popsicle truck came ringing its bell down the street, Trina made sure she was the first one to get a fudgesicle and a grape Popsicle. She had to show everybody that her folks believed she was the bomb. But somehow Fantasia understood her. Wise beyond her tender years, Fantasia saw the need in Trina’s heart for love and attention. That was her reason for being so selfish. She was needy. Trina’s loads of material possessions didn’t take the place of affection and love she craved from her successful parents. Unlike Trina, Sara’s personality was similar to Fantasia’s and they always got along.

  Sometimes Fantasia would sit on the top bunk in the room she shared with her little sister, and doodle on any paper she could find, including the brown paper sacks her Momma brought in from the grocery store.

  “Fantasia, what on earth are you doing with all of this paper, girl?” Ruth inquired one evening after she returned home from work. “Young lady, for the life of me I just can’t see you using this much drawing paper, plus paper bags, notebook paper or whatever else you use around here. Are you eating the paper or what?”