The Prodigal Son (A Reverend Curtis Black Novel)

by Kimberla Lawson Roby

  “Oh, I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t know you were back. I was just about to take your clothes to the cleaners.”

  Dillon walked around her and didn’t say anything.

  “Is everything okay?”

  He dropped down in the chair and leaned his head back. “My aunt passed away.”

  “Aunt Susan?”

  “How many aunts do I have, Melissa? Even Country Roger out there wouldn’t ask such a dumb question.”

  “I’m really sorry, baby. What happened?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m heading to Atlanta to find out,” he said, but then he thought about something. “And if you’d taken my clothes to the cleaners before today, I’d have them back by now.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d—”

  Dillon raised his hand in front of him. “Just save it, Melissa.”

  “So when are we leaving?” she asked.

  “My dad and I are leaving in the morning.”

  “But what about me?”

  “You’re gonna stay here and take care of what I told you.”

  “But I can start calling private investigators today and hire one while we’re gone.”

  “No.”

  “But, baby—”

  “Melissa, please. When I say, no, that’s what I mean. You’re not going with me, so just get over it.”

  He didn’t dare waste his time looking at her, but he still heard her sniffling. It was too bad, though, because no one was going to tag along with him and his dad to his aunt’s funeral. Not a soul—and that was all there was to it.

  Chapter 21

  Matthew hadn’t been to a bowling alley since he didn’t know when, but he was glad Jonathan and Elijah had wanted to come. It was only Thursday night, but for some reason, it was packed the way it once had been on Fridays and Saturdays. Matthew was sure that this was a result of all the college students being home for the summer. He did see a few high school “youngins,” as Jonathan would call them, but for the most part, everyone else looked to be somewhere between eighteen and twenty-two, and Matthew was having a good time. He’d sort of felt bad about leaving MJ with Aunt Emma, especially since she’d already kept him while he’d been working, but she’d basically insisted that he go enjoy himself with his friends.

  “Man, I’m goin’ on record right now,” Jonathan said matter-of-factly, checking out a tall, stallion-looking girl with short, brown hair. “That’ll be mine before the night is out.”

  They all leaned against the wall facing the direction of the bowling lanes, and Elijah and Matthew cracked up laughing.

  “What?” Jonathan said.

  Matthew shook his head. “Man, you haven’t changed a bit. Still chasin’ girl after girl.”

  “You mean woman after woman, because there’s nothin’ girlish at all about that fine thing over there.”

  Now Elijah shook his head. “Matt, man, can you imagine what it’s like dealin’ with this fool every single day? I even gotta live with him.”

  Matthew forced a smile on his face, but it was hard not to envy the kind of life Jonathan and Elijah were living. College life…and they were also playing football. He loved his friends like brothers, something he could never say enough, but he couldn’t help wishing things had turned out differently for him. All three of them had gone off to college, Jonathan and Elijah to the University of Illinois in Champaign and Matthew to Harvard, yet Matthew had returned home a long time ago. It seemed so unfair, too, because during their senior year in high school, Matthew had been named “Most Likely to Succeed,” and he had certainly done much better than Jonathan and Elijah when it came to their grades. He’d been a star football player, too. Interestingly enough, though, it was the two of them who’d completed their second year at U of I, and they were making their parents proud. Matthew, on the other hand, was a total failure.

  “Wow,” Jonathan said, eyeing another girl up and down. She scanned his body from head to toe and back up, too. “Maybe I spoke too fast. Maybe she’s the one I should get to workin’ on.”

  “Man, will you cut it out,” Elijah said. “Forget about these girls. We’re supposed to be cheerin’ up our boy.”

  “Well, now that I’ve heard the whole story,” Jonathan said. “I don’t see where Matt has any choice. Divorce is the only option. You can’t help someone who don’t wanna be helped.”

  When they’d stopped for pizza a couple of hours ago, Matthew had gone ahead and told them everything—not about Racquel hitting him, of course, because the two of them would see him as a feeble punk—but he’d shared everything else. He’d been so full inside, slightly depressed and confused, that he hadn’t held back. Now, though, Jonathan acted as though Racquel was the worst mother and wife he’d ever heard of, and Matthew was sort of sorry he’d told them anything.

  “It’s not that simple,” Matthew said.

  “I don’t know why not,” Jonathan declared. “You said you tried to talk to her. Her parents even tried to make her get help. And on top of that, she wants nothin’ to do with little MJ, and she’s goin’ out gettin’ drunk? What else is there to do?”

  Matthew looked at him and then toward the couple of lanes in front of them. He knew that when Jonathan formed an opinion about anything, there was no changing his mind, so Matthew didn’t try to.

  “Matt, if I were you,” Elijah said, “I’d do what I thought was best for my family.”

  “Divorcing her is what’s best,” Jonathan said. “Something’s wrong with that girl, and if she won’t try to help herself, then there’s nothin’ Matt can do about it.”

  “Let’s talk about somethin’ else,” Matthew said. He hated hearing Jonathan’s rants, but mostly it was because he knew Jonathan might be right. If Racquel wouldn’t get help, and no one could force her, then his hands were tied. He certainly wasn’t planning to take MJ around her again either, not with her acting so violently. He didn’t want to believe she’d ever lay a hand on MJ, but when he’d been away in Boston, he’d seen a news segment about a woman who’d drowned her eight-month-old baby and had never shed a tear. The experts had talked a lot about postpartum depression, but for some reason Matthew hadn’t thought about that story again until this morning. He’d picked up his son, looked at him, and the thought of that woman had hit him like a bulldozer. It was then that he’d decided it was time he and MJ moved out. He wasn’t sure when he was going to pack their things, because he knew he had to do it when Racquel wasn’t around, but for now, MJ would stay with Aunt Emma. Aunt Emma had thought this was best, too, and tomorrow he would tell his in-laws about it.

  Matthew, Elijah, and Jonathan laughed and chatted like old times, and soon Matthew felt much better. His marital problems still lingered in the back of his mind, but at the moment, they weren’t consuming him and he was able to enjoy himself for a change.

  “Uh-oh,” Jonathan said, and Matthew and Elijah looked in the same direction. “Here comes Stacey,” he sang.

  Elijah smiled but Matthew could tell he was trying to keep a straight face so as to not egg Jonathan on.

  Jonathan kept on, anyway. “Dang, Matt, she still wants you, man. After all this time.”

  Matthew pursed his lips. “Man, you’re crazy.”

  “Hmmph, whatever you say.”

  “Hey fellas,” Stacey said, walking up with two of her girls and smiling. “Long time, no see.”

  “Long time indeed,” Jonathan said.

  “How’s it goin’?” Matthew finally said.

  Stacey smiled more than she had before. “Wonderful. Especially now.”

  Jonathan raised his eyebrows and winked at Matthew. Then he turned to Stacey’s friends. “So, you two not speakin’?” he asked.

  “Hello,” they both said together.

  “You ladies must be from Stacey’s school.”

  “They are,” Stacey said, laughing. “So just leave them alone, Jonathan, because I know how you are.”

  “What?” he said, smiling slyly. “I’m as innoc
ent as they come.”

  All six of them laughed. Even Stacey’s two friends had already figured out how forward Jonathan was.

  Stacey folded her arms. “Well, we won’t hold you guys. We just wanted to say hello…and, of course, it was good seeing you, Matt.”

  “Good seein’ you, too. You take care.”

  Jonathan barely waited for them to leave. “Man, that Stacey is just as fine as ever, and don’t pretend you didn’t see how she was lookin’ at you. I thought she was gonna throw you down right here on the ground in front of all of us.”

  “You’re sick,” Matthew said, laughing.

  Elijah laughed, too. “That he is, Matt, but I’m with Jon on this one. That girl still has it bad for you.”

  Matthew hadn’t thought about Stacey Martin in a long time, but before he’d started dating Racquel they’d become pretty close. Now Matthew wondered how things might have turned out for him had he stayed with Stacey and never hooked up with Racquel. He felt bad just thinking about it, but it was hard not to wonder. He also felt bad about something else: the reason he’d stopped dating Stacey. She’d made it clear that she wasn’t going to have sex with him or anyone else while in high school. He remembered how his mom hadn’t liked her, the same as she hadn’t liked Racquel, thinking Stacey was only trying to trap him with a baby; but little had his mother known, she’d been wrong about her. Stacey had been one of the good girls, and Matt had been fine with it; that is, until Jonathan and some of their other teammates had poured on the pressure. They’d worked on Matthew until they’d finally convinced him that any girl who wasn’t giving it up wasn’t worth his time or money, and it hadn’t been long before he’d succumbed to their comments like a dummy. He’d broken up with Stacey, started a relationship with Racquel, and now he was a twenty-year-old husband and father.

  Boy, had he made a lot of mistakes, and the more he stared at Stacey, standing a few feet away, the more he regretted them. She stared at him, too, and that only made things worse. From the time he’d been old enough to understand what the word infidelity meant he’d promised himself he would never be like his mother or father. He would never commit that kind of sin against God or his wife, but just for a quick moment, he ignored his long-held Christian values. What he thought about instead was how happy his life might’ve been had he continued dating Stacey. God forgive him, he wondered what it would feel like to be with her now—tonight even.

  Chapter 22

  As soon as the doorbell rang, Dillon looked at Melissa and she dragged herself into the entryway to open the door. If only she would listen to him she wouldn’t have to walk around with a black eye or have to feel embarrassed. He didn’t know why she made him do these kinds of things, and in all honesty, it had been a couple of years since she’d made him lose it to the extent he had last night. But she just hadn’t wanted to give up on traveling with him to Atlanta. He’d told her once, twice, three times even, but she’d kept crying and begging him to let her go. This was when he’d warned her about pushing him too far, but lo and behold, she’d asked him a fourth time and then she’d told him how she had every right to go to his aunt’s funeral because she’d been the one to call to check on her all the time, anyway. Dillon barely remembered what had happened after that, but all he knew was that this morning when he’d gotten up, he’d found her sleeping in the den on the sofa and he’d noticed how strange her eye looked. Maybe now she would listen when he told her something once and for all and she’d accept it.

  When Melissa opened the door, the driver looked at her and seemed uncomfortable. “Uh, hi. I’m Carlisle, and I’m here for Mr. Whitfield.”

  “Hey, how’s it goin’?” Dillon said, rolling his suitcase toward the door.

  Carlisle took it from him. “I’m fine, thank you. I’ll be right outside, sir.”

  As the driver walked away, Dillon had to admit he liked this kind of service. He certainly had more than enough money to hire limos whenever he wanted, but since he never left town he never needed transportation to O’Hare, which was an hour away. This limo was very special to him, though, because his father had paid for it. His dad had also told him that whenever they ordered a car, they always requested Carlisle because he was the best.

  Dillon grabbed his black blazer, slipped it on, and looked back at Melissa. Tears filled her eyes. He wished he hadn’t gotten so upset last night, but she was so doggoned hardheaded. The whole thing had been her fault, and he sort of resented her for making him punish her like this. He figured the least he could do was say good-bye, though.

  “I’ll see you later.”

  Tears flowed down her cheeks. “Bye.”

  What a pitiful sight, Dillon thought, and walked outside.

  Once Carlisle closed Dillon’s door, he got back in the car and drove out of the subdivision. Dillon was glad to be leaving Melissa behind, which made him happy, but suddenly he thought about his aunt. He hated feeling sad and helpless, though, so he tried to think about the happy times they’d shared. Then, the closer they drove to his dad’s house to pick him up, the more content Dillon felt again. His dad lived closer to the interstate, so that was the reason he’d requested that the car swing by to get Dillon first.

  Dillon stretched his legs all the way out, looked at cars passing by them, and sort of got tickled. He could barely contain himself because he was finally getting what he’d wanted—time alone with his father, and on top of that, they were traveling out of town together. They would spend days in Atlanta, just the two of them, and miles away from everyone else—Charlotte the Harlot, Curtina, Alicia, Phillip—folks who didn’t matter or mean squat to Dillon. He also no longer had to worry about Matthew easing his way back into the picture, at least not for now, anyway. Dillon still hadn’t learned whether Matthew had gone to visit his parents that day he’d seen him or not, but today Matthew didn’t worry him—today, his dad would think only about one of his sons, his firstborn child, and that was all that mattered.

  It was funny how even though his aunt had always told him that for everything bad, something good happened, he’d never believed her, yet now he knew she’d been right. Who would have thought that losing his aunt could lead to spending such quality time with his father? Losing Aunt Susan was the worst, but being with his dad was the best, and he knew the latter would alleviate his pain with each passing day. He felt as giddy as a small child, and now that Carlisle was waiting for the gate to open so he could drive up his father’s lengthy driveway, he wanted to laugh out loud. Dillon almost didn’t like the way he was feeling because most grown men would never feel this kind of emotion. It was actually embarrassing, so Dillon calmed himself down so his dad wouldn’t see him acting this way. He manned up—but then he spotted his dad walking outside, all lovey-dovey with Charlotte. They acted as though they’d just met maybe a month ago, and that they had no idea what they were going to do without each other. It was enough to make Dillon ill. Down to the very last minute, this woman was still getting on his nerves, and he couldn’t wait for his father to get in the car.

  Carlisle opened the door, and Curtis kissed Charlotte. Then he hugged her.

  “I’ll call you as soon as we get to the airport,” he told her.

  “I love you,” she said.

  “I love you, too, baby. Kiss my baby girl for me when she gets home from school.”

  “You know I will. Be safe.”

  Dillon looked straight ahead, refusing to as much as glance at Charlotte, and his dad made himself comfortable inside the limo.

  “Good morning, son.”

  “Good morning.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay, I guess. Still a little shocked about my aunt, though.”

  “That’s to be expected, but I’ve been praying for you.”

  Carlisle drove around the circular drive, and Dillon glanced at the fountain displayed in the center. He wasn’t sure why exactly, but he’d always admired it. Maybe it was because it screamed wealth and elegance, and that
excited him. Actually, he wondered if his dad might let him move in with him once he kicked Charlotte out. Dillon didn’t see why not because this was simply the way most well-off people lived, specifically those wealthy people who had lots of bedrooms and tons of square footage. In those cases, adult children lived with their parents for as long as they wanted. He knew this because he’d seen the new version of Dallas, which was a spin-off of the old one that had aired back in the eighties when he was just a toddler. On Dallas, the adult children never moved out, and when they got married their spouses moved in, too. When they had children, they built nurseries for them right inside the mansion.

  As Carlisle exited onto the interstate, Curtis’s phone rang and he pulled it out of his blazer pocket. He looked at the display, smiling, and Dillon wondered who it was.

  “So we’re ten minutes away from the house and you’re missing me already?” he said, laughing.

  Was that Charlotte? Why couldn’t she leave his dad alone? She saw him every day, so wasn’t that enough? But Dillon knew she was only calling as a way to irritate him. She knew Dillon had been trying for such long while to spend time alone with his father, and this was her rude way of interrupting it. She was secretly taunting him again, the same as always, but that was okay because he would get her back soon enough. In the end, she would beg him to forgive her. She would plead for mercy, but all he would do is laugh at her.

  Chapter 23

  Finally. No fiancée he despised, no irritating half sisters or brother, no evil stepmother. Life just didn’t get any better than this. As far back as Dillon could remember, he’d dreamed about having a dad. He’d fantasized about it, and now all that he’d hoped for was reality. He’d met his dad last year, but today was the first full day he’d been able to have him all to himself. They’d arrived in Atlanta yesterday, early afternoon, rented an SUV, and then driven to the Ritz-Carlton downtown. Then when they’d gotten settled into their room, they’d gone straight to the hospital to release his aunt’s body to the funeral home. After that, they’d both been a bit tired, so they’d gone back to the hotel, eaten dinner in the restaurant, and gone up to their room to watch the NBA playoffs. At first, when his dad had told him that one of his secretaries would make the hotel and flight arrangements, he’d wondered if they would book two separate rooms. So he’d been thrilled when he’d learned that his father had requested one room with two double beds. He’d been ecstatic because he knew that no father would share a hotel room with a son he didn’t love. No father would pack up at the last minute and hop on a plane for a son he didn’t want to be there for, and Dillon couldn’t be more grateful.