Casting Down Imaginations (16 page)

twenty

K
aren

I laughed when I saw Kevin running out of the house. Terrance
and I had barely gotten in the driveway, and he was already running towards us.

“Stop the truck,” I instructed Terrance, fearful that in
Kevin’s hurry Terrance may not have seen him.

As soon as we were still I jumped out and ran to meet my
brother. We met in the middle of the driveway in a big hug. He was at least an
inch taller than he was when I last saw him.

“Look at you!” I said, excited. “You’re so big!”

“I’m handsome,” he corrected me.

I kissed him on the cheek. “Yes, you are. Did you miss me?”

He nodded and we hugged again. Forgetting all about Terrance,
I wrapped my baby brother in my arms and walked up the driveway to the front
porch where Mama and Daddy were waiting for me.

“Hey, Karen,” Daddy said as he reached out and hugged me.

“Hi, Daddy,” I said, and hugged him back. It was so good to
be home.

“Hello, Karen,” Mama said.

No one said anything. It had been a while since we shared
words, and everyone knew why. Not forgetting that she was still my mother, as
mean as she was, I walked over to her and gave her a partial hug.

“Hello, Terrance,” Mama greeted as he approached us carrying
my luggage.

“Hello, Mrs. Stephens. How do you do?”

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

Daddy walked down the porch steps and approached Terrance.

“Thank you for picking Karen up,” he said. “I know it was a
long drive, and you didn’t have to.”

“For your daughter, sir, it was nothing at all.”

Mama smiled when she heard that, but I wasn’t so easily swayed.
It was going to take more that a slick tongue to get back in good with me.

“I have to be going, Karen,” Terrance said, handing my
luggage to me. “I have some errands to run, and I’m sure that your family is
dying to spend time with you. Call me when you get settled, okay?”

“Okay,” I nodded.

He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, sending Mama into
delightful squeals. I didn’t like it. What was up with the perfect gentleman
game he was playing? He was laying it on thick.

“Are you still coming over for Christmas dinner?” Mama asked.

He turned to her. “Yes, ma’am. I wouldn’t miss it for nothing
in this world.”

What? Christmas dinner?!!

I eyed Mama suspiciously. She had something up her sleeve.

“See you later, Karen,” Terrance said, and left.

“That sure was nice of him to drive so far to pick you up,”
Mama said, leading us all back in the house. She and Daddy were grinning from
ear to ear.

“It’s no big deal,” I said to them. “I could have just as
easily taken the bus.”

“Awh, but you didn’t,” Daddy said. They were still grinning.

“I could have.”

Still smiling. They thought I was in love.

“Stop it!” I demanded.

“Oh, she’s embarrassed,” he cooed.

“Karen, there’s nothing wrong with having a boyfriend,” Mama
informed me.

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Whatever,” she sang, completely ignoring me while she went
into the kitchen.

I got the feeling it was going to be this way for my entire
stay.

I leaned over and gave Kevin another hug. “You’ll listen to
me, won’t you?”

He nodded.

“That’s why I love you, lil’ bro.”

twenty one

Anaya

I turned my speakers down, remembering loud music was one of
Deacon Patterson’s pet peeves. I could see him standing in the window, waving
hysterically as I put the car in park. I smiled. He probably had been standing
there waiting on his baby girl for the past thirty minutes. Before I could even
get out of the car he was rushing out of the house.

“Baby Girl!” he beamed once he reached me. “It’s so good to
see you!”

He helped me out of the car and gave me the biggest bear hug
that I had ever received. Seeing the smile on his face made me realize that I
had been missing him.

“Hi Deacon,” I said through giggles.

“Now, you didn’t have no troubles driving all this way, did
you?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, it was fine. I didn’t get any tickets or anything like
that.”

“Good, good,” he said.

I popped the trunk so he could get my bags out of the car.

“Good Lord, girl,” he said. “You only staying for two weeks
and you need three bags?”

I nodded. “I had to bring a lot because I didn’t know what I
would feel like wearing.”

He shook his head, not understanding. “I guess it’s a girl thing.
Or a woman thing, I should say.”

I smiled, happy that he acknowledged me as an adult.

As soon as we were inside the house the sweet smell of lemon
meringue pie welcomed me. He remembered. A sentimental tear drop formed in my
eye.

“Deacon!” I cried.

He pulled me close to him and gave me another hug. “Lemon
meringue pie. I thought that might make you happy.”

The tear fell as I remembered the Thanksgiving I was in the
sixth grade. Deacon had been at the church all day feeding the homeless and I
decided to cook him a big holiday meal. By the time he came home, all that
wasn’t finished was the lemon meringue pie in the oven. I waited and waited for
hours for the pie to form in the oven, but all it ever became was a yellow
sticky mess. The whole meal was horrible. I didn’t know how to cook at all.
Every Thanksgiving and Christmas since then, Deacon had been faithful to make a
fresh lemon meringue pie from scratch. I’d forgotten all about our holiday
tradition.

“You didn’t forget,” I whispered.

“Of course not,” he smiled. “I don’t forget nothing for my
baby girl.”

I wished he would stop talking. Why did he have to be so
sweet and love me so much?

I sniffled.

He turned to me, surprised. “What is it?”

I tried to hide the tears that were coming down my face, but
he saw them.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he asked.

I shook my head, surprised at my behavior. This was so unlike
me. I hardly ever cried.

“Nothing,” I answered, and pulled away from him. “I just… I
just…”

I couldn’t tell him that he was the reason I was crying.
Deacon was my father, and I treated him like he was crap. For so long I’d been
looking for someone to love me, and he’d been right here the whole time. I
blamed him for everything and he wasn’t even the one who was wrong. It was me.
I blamed him for my break-up with David, but it was David who was to blame. If
I’d listened to Deacon from the beginning, I probably would have never ended up
with that two-timing jerk. All Deacon ever tried to do was protect me from
losers like David who only wanted one thing, and I resented him for it. What
was worse was that I took his hard earned money that he’d saved to pay for my
college education and spent it on an apartment. I stole from him. How could I
be so ungrateful? There were people all over the world who would die to be able
to go to school and have a father like mine, and I took it all for granted. I
didn’t deserve to have him.

Deacon smiled at me. It broke my heart.

“What’s the matter, baby? You okay?”

I could hardly breathe as I nodded. I swallowed. “Yeah.”

He chuckled. “What is it?”

“I uh… I just…” I swallowed again, my heart tearing inside.
“I didn’t realize how homesick I was. It feels really good to be home.”

He leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. “That’s okay,
Baby Girl. I missed you, too.”

I watched as he carried my bags up the stairs to my old
bedroom, describing how it was just the way I’d left it. I determined right
then and there to pay back every single cent of the thirty five hundred dollars
that he deposited into my checking account. It was the only right thing to do
after all he’d done for me. I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but I was
going to find a way.

twenty two

Anaya

I walked into the living room with the last of the photo
boxes from the hall closet.

“This is it, Deacon,” I said to him over my shoulder. He was
in the kitchen making a batch of strawberry lemonade, another one of my
favorites. We were finally putting together family photo albums and were
actually having a good time together. After we finished the photo albums we
were going to put up the Christmas tree. I almost felt like a kid again. No
worries at all. No Reese, no Lexi, no schoolwork. Just me and Deacon, like it
used to be back in the day.

I opened the box and began to pull out old pictures. I
stopped when I came to a picture of my mother. I held it up and looked at it.
It was a picture of her and Deacon on their wedding day. She had on a beautiful
long white dress and in her arms she was carrying a big bouquet of white and
yellow roses. She was beautiful. I never noticed it before but I looked a lot
like her. I bet Deacon saw a piece of her every time he looked at me. No wonder
it was so hard for him to talk to me. Her smile was as big as the sun. She
looked like it was the happiest day of her life.

“What you got there?” Deacon asked, bringing the glass of
lemonade that he had prepared over to me.

I held the photo up for him to see. He froze when he realized
what it was, just as he always did whenever someone brought up his wife. He
never wanted to talk about her, and I respected that for the most part, but I
was getting older now and needed to know where I came from.

“She was beautiful,” I whispered aloud.

He gave a partial smile. “Yes, she was. That’s why I picked
her,” he tried to joke.

I was gentle. “Tell me about her.”

He sighed. “What is there to tell?”

What was there
not
to tell? What did she like to do?
Where did she like to go? What did she do for a living? What did she aspire to
be in life? Could she dance? Could she sing? Did I cry when she left the room?
What about her family? I knew she didn’t have any brothers or sisters, and my
maternal grandparents were both gone by the time I was born. But didn’t she
have an aunt or an uncle somewhere, or maybe a distant cousin?

“How did you two meet?” I asked. I had to know. He was my
only connection to her.

His eyes drooped to the floor, then wandered around the room.
He looked everywhere but in my eyes. It was the first time in a long time that
I forced him to face his memories.

“You don’t know this story?” he asked.

I shook my head. “You never tell me anything,” I whispered,
surprised at the sudden sensitivity that was overtaking me.

He didn’t say it, but I saw the apology on his face. He
cleared his throat. “We met in college,” he answered slowly.

It was a hesitant response, but at least it was something. I
wanted to know details, though. I wanted to know the exact location, the who,
what, when, where, and why of the whole situation.

The phone rang.

“Let me get that,” he said, scurrying over to answer it.
“It’s probably somebody from the church.”

I hoped that it wasn’t. If it was I knew they didn’t want
anything but to drag him away, as always.

“Hey, Pastor,” he said into the phone.

My eyes rolled in resentment. Pastor Fields got on my nerves.
Whenever something needed to be done at the church, he always called on Deacon
Patterson. And like a fool, Deacon would be right there for him. Never mind the
fact that I hadn’t seen him in months. When it came to the church, I always
came second. I loved Deacon, I honestly did, but sometimes I thought that if it
came down to it, he would choose the church over me. Pastor Fields could have
at least been courteous enough to wait until tomorrow. I hadn’t even been able
to spend an entire day with my dad and that stupid church was already pulling
him away from me.

Deacon walked back into the room after he got off the phone.

“That was Pastor,” he told me, as if I didn’t already know.
“He has family over tonight so Sister Fields won’t be able to pick up the
church programs from the printer, so I’m gonna have to go do it.”

What? That was such bull. I could care less about her family.
What about me? Wasn’t I family? I hated Pastor Fields! Why was his family so
much more important than mine? Deacon was my daddy and I wanted him with me!

“Why do you have to do it? Can’t they find someone else?”

He gave a disapproving look and walked past me to the closet
to get his jacket. I didn’t even know why I was surprised. Some things never
changed.

Irritated, my mind drifted back to the day when I first
started referring to my dad by his church title. He’d just become a deacon and
everyone was going out of their way to acknowledge him as such. It was
sickening to me, as if before he was a nobody, but now that he was “Deacon
Patterson” he was somebody special.

One day Karen and I were waiting outside the church for a
Deacons meeting to be over with. I’d gotten too hot and needed to cool off. I
went inside and kept calling “Daddy, help me. Daddy, help me, I think I’m
sick.” But he didn’t hear me. So I finally called him by his title, just to see
if it would get his attention. It had, to my surprise. After that, I kept
calling him that, and I guess it just stuck. Today, when I needed him to just
be my Daddy, his title was more important, just like it had been then.

I watched him put on his jacket and scamper around the house,
looking for his keys. They were on the table next to the door where they always
were, but as usual, it was the last place he looked.

I whispered his name. “Daddy.”

It felt awkward. I hadn’t called him that in years.

“Daddy,” I said again, a little louder this time.

No response.

“Daddy!” I called out loudly.

He should have heard me. Anybody with ears would have heard
me. But he didn’t. I may as well have still been in Daytown.

I watched him as he continued to look for his keys, not
hearing me at all.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he told me as he walked toward the
door. “It shouldn’t take long.”

“Deacon,” I whispered under my breath, barely able to hear it
myself.

He looked up. “You call me, Baby Girl?”

I was shocked. How in the world could he hear that and not
hear me yelling a few seconds ago?

I shook my head. He spotted his keys next to the door and put
them in his pocket.

“It sure is good having you home,” he told me, and left.

I turned back to the photo album and placed my mother’s
picture inside, then wondered to myself why God put me here if he knew I wasn’t
going to have any parents?