No Weapon Formed (Boaz Brown) (19 page)

He bounced over to me. “You
all right, my sister?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“I can see you’re
fine
.
But are you
okay
?” he flirted.

“You know that line is
retired, right?” I said.

We both laughed. Then a ball
hit him in the back. “Aw, man!” He turned around and fired at our opponents,
nailing one on the hip.

I found myself admiring the
view. His behind, to be exact. Stelson was pretty flat, as was just about every
white person I knew. Not that I went around staring at people’s tushes…I’m just
saying.

“Hey!” Peaches called to me.
“Pay attention! You’re slacking!”

Our game ended with no clear
winning side from what I could tell, and I had a pretty good viewpoint from
behind the action. Peaches and I bounced out of our cage, followed by three
more of our teammates who had only signed up for one round, I guessed.

The guy who’d been helping
me, per se, saluted me and then left us alone.

And the weirdest thing
happened: I was sad. Genuinely sad that he was leaving without so much as a
good-bye. He didn’t try to sit next to Peaches and me while we tied our shoes.
Didn’t try to ask for my number, though I would have turned him down. But
still…he didn’t try.

I suppose that made him a
decent man, one who respected the wedding band on my finger.

I am married
, I reminded myself.

Peaches and I found a booth
at the food court and ordered the greasiest, best-tasting concession stand
food. She got nachos, I had a corn dog with fries.

She blessed the food and went
in on me. “Okay. We gotta talk. You were way too happy about that man—all
up in his face, I’m just sayin’. What’s up with you and Stelson?”

I dipped my corn dog in a
pool of mustard and chewed slowly while weighing my words. It was nearly
impossible for me to lie to Peaches. How could I be honest without throwing my
husband under the bus?
Show me, Lord.

“Spill it,” she commanded.

I waited, though. Chewed my
food carefully. I even pretended I was chewing when there was nothing in my
mouth while Peaches sat staring at me with an unflinching expression.

“Okay. We’ve hit a rough
patch.”

“How rough?”

“Rough enough for me to be excited
when another man pays attention to me, obviously,” I volunteered myself for the
impending cross-examination.

“What about intimacy?”

“Nilch. And why do you always
have to ask about our sex life?” I asked.

She explained, “Because you
can gauge what’s going on in a marriage by what’s going on in the bedroom. Huge
parallels.”

“I see.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“What plan?”

She slapped the table. “The
plan for fixing the problem? Hello! You can’t just let the enemy walk up in
your house and snatch your family from you.”

Without knowing, Peaches had
reiterated what the speaker at the women’s fellowship preached and what God
Himself had whispered inside me. Why was it taking yet another person to help
me see the light?

Speak, Lord. Put me in
remembrance of Your Word.

“I don’t know exactly what to
do. I’ve prayed for him. I’ve tolerated him. The headaches went away, but now
they’re back and he’s out of his mind again. I’ve been writing him “sick man”
passes because I realize these are extenuating circumstances, but the stack of
passes is almost gone. He’s about to see a side of LaShondra Smith he’s never
seen, either.”

“I doubt that. I’ve seen you
go off around Stelson. It was not pretty,” she smacked. “Does Six Flags ring a
bell?”

“You did
not
go
there.” Yes, she did, and yes I did go all in on an employee. First of all, it
was a hot day. We had no business outside trying to have a double date to begin
with. When I finally got the Sprite I’d waited almost fifteen minutes in line
to receive, it was flat. So I very politely placed the cup on the counter and
said, “Could you get me another one? This one has no carbonation.”

This—well, I don’t want
to call anybody out of their name—young lady took a sip of my drink from
my very own straw, placed it back on the counter, slid it toward me and said,
“Tastes fine to me.”

I can’t think of anybody who
wouldn’t have had a hissy fit, Peaches included. “What happened at Six
Flags…she had it coming.”

“How you figure she had a
cold drink thrown in her face
coming
?”

“You don’t take a drink out
of somebody’s straw and then expect them to drink after you,” I laughed. “She
was nasty.”

Peaches dropped her head in
laughter. “You’re right. I would have done it if you hadn’t. Gosh…we were so
young and hot-headed back then.”

“Speak for yourself. Six
Flags was an isolated incident for me.” I clutched my imaginary pearls.

Peaches rolled her eyes.
“Please. Everyone has their breaking point. Maybe Stelson is at his or pretty
darn close. The last thing he needs is you walking away.”

“I’m not crazy. I’m not going
to leave him. We’re in this for better or for worse, right?”

“You don’t have to
leave
to leave. The same way you don’t have to actually mess around to have an
affair, like you did with old boy tonight,” she accused.

“I did not have a mental
affair with him!”

“Oh, guilty as charged!
Smilin’ in his face. Checking out his behind,” she recalled correctly.

“I plead the fifth.”

Peaches smacked her lips.
“And I’ll plead
the blood
for you.”

“Thank you,” was the only
fitting response.

Against all common sense, we
made a mad dash to the mall for last-minute Christmas gifts. I had finished
shopping for the kids but still had Jonathan on my list, though I knew he never
expected anything.

I asked Peaches if she
thought I should get his girlfriend or her son something.

“Not until she gets a ring
from Jonathan,” Peaches replied.

“You know what? I’m gon’ stop
talkin’ to you.”

Peaches and I re-enacted our
Celie and Nettie patty-cake good-bye. “Me and you, us never part…”

Momma Miller cackled, same as
always. She reluctantly returned Zoe to me. “This one here is a sweetheart. You
can bring her over any time.”

“Thank you.”

“She got your Momma’s nose,
too,” Peaches’ mother noted. “Wouldn’t be surprised if she grows up to be her
spittin’ image. Beautiful woman.”

“I appreciate it,” I
struggled to reply. Holidays and birthdays without Momma were the hardest.

Stelson bundled up Seth as we
headed out the door wishing everyone a Merry Christmas. He seemed pleasant
enough. I’d learned to watch his jawline for a hint of his pain level. The
headaches must have given him a reprieve.

However, I watched his jaw
clench when we turned into the dusk sun for our ride home. He stopped the car
while he searched the center console for the pair of shades which—
uh
oh!
—I had removed from the car when I took it to be washed the
previous Monday.

“Who moved my shades?”

“I did. I’m so sorry, honey.
I meant to put them back—”

“This is freakin’
ridiculous,” he spouted off.

“Oooooooh!” Seth sang from
the back seat. “Daddy, you said a bad word!”

Stelson qualified, “It’s not
exactly
a—”

“Yes. It
is
a bad
word,” I stopped Stelson from flinging us on the path to an embarrassing
parent-teacher conference with Miss Osiegbu.

Without warning, Stelson
swerved the car to the right and put the car in park. “I can’t drive facing the
sun.” He got out and opened the passenger’s back door.

He unhooked Seth’s seatbelt,
shooed him over. “I’m gonna have to sit back here with you guys, and you’ll
have to scoot over.”

“What about my car seat?”
Seth nearly begged.

“Not this trip.”

Seth’s world came to a halt.
He’d never ridden in
any
car without a special seat. “But Miss Osiegbu
said we must always sit in a booster or we could get hurt in an accident. She
says I have to wear it until I get eighty pounds, which is almost a hundred!”

Stelson ignored my son’s
reasonable plea. He hoisted Seth from his seat with one arm, threw the booster
to the floor, and set Seth down in the middle. “Let’s pretend you’re a hundred
pounds.”

“But I don’t
want
to
get hurt,” Seth’s voice threatened to break with sorrow.

“You won’t,” Stelson assured
him. He buckled himself as well as Seth in place while I got out of the car and
assumed the driver’s seat. Stelson laid his head against the headrest and
covered his eyes with a pair of gloves.

I checked all my mirrors and
eased onto the street again and continue down the Millers’ street.

“Daddy, what if the police
see me? Won’t they give me a fricket?”

Seth’s mispronunciation
tickled me, but Stelson didn’t see the humor. “Everything’s going to be fine,
okay? Just…shut it up.”

I know he did not just
tell my baby to shut up!
We were close to having another Six Flags moment. Now it was my turn to pull
over. “Stelson, get out of the car.”

“For what?”

“Get. Out. Now. We need to
talk.”

“I’m so not moving until we
get home,” he said.

I eyed him through the
rearview mirror. “I’m not moving another inch with you actin’ a plum fool.”

“Ooooooh!” from our son.

“Really, LaShondra? In front
of Seth and Zoe?”

“I
asked
you to get
out.”

“Not exactly balmy outside.
Freakin’ forty-two degrees.”

“Oooooh!”

I twisted my body to get a
view of my ridin’-dirty Seth. “Honey, I don’t know why your father insists on
saying the word freakin’ today. It
is
a bad word. And we’re going to
pray for him to stop this foolishness, okay?”

“Drive home!” Stelson yelled
like somebody who obviously wasn’t in enough pain to shut his own freakin’
mouth!
Lord, forgive me.

“I’m not driving anywhere!” I
took my keys out of the ignition and swung open the driver’s door. I opened the
back driver’s side door and seized Zoe. “Come on, Seth.”

“Where are we going?”

“Back to Miss Peaches’ and
Momma Miller’s house.”

“Yeah! But what about Daddy?”

“He can drive himself home
when the sun goes down.” I helped Seth hop onto the concrete. My son, my
daughter and I stood there watching my husband play idiot-man.

“What are you now? A real
housewife of Dallas? You should audition. I’m sure they’d cast you,” he said
through gritted teeth. He exited the passenger’s side and began walking around
the vehicle.

Suddenly, he went down. Jerking,
twitching, convulsing. Clenching his fists. His eyes fixed on one
inconsequential point.

“Stelson!”

Having worked in public
schools with thousands of kids, I knew immediately what was happening.

“Daddy!” Seth yelled as he
ran to Stelson’s side.

I thrust the baby back into
her seat and pulled my cell phone from my pocket simultaneously.

“9-1-1 what is the location
and nature of your emergency?”

“Corner of Jonah Drive and
Bethel. My husband is having a seizure.” I fed her information as I pushed my
husband onto his side. A dark spot spread across the crotch of his pants as he
lost control of his bladder.

“Daddy!” my son hollered
louder.

“Seth, baby, run to Peaches’
house—the one with all the cars in front—and tell her to come
quickly. Can you do that for Daddy?”

He took off at breakneck
speed toward the Miller house, feet pounding the pavement double-time. I
positioned myself to keep an eye on Seth while I comforted Stelson and listened
to the operator’s instructions.

“Turn his head to the side to
keep his airway open.”

“I did.”

“Good job. Does he have
seizures often? Is he epileptic?”

“No. There’s something else
wrong with him but we don’t have a diagnosis.”

Animal noises escaped my
husband’s nose.
Eech. Eech. Eech
.

Rubbing his forehead, I
coaxed, “You’re going to be okay, baby. I’m here. You rest in the secret place
of the Most High. You abide under the shadow of the Almighty.” I couldn’t
remember the whole psalm, but I knew at the end there was a promise to those who
fear Him. “God is here, too. You’re okay.”

I looked up and saw the
entire Miller family heading toward us. I promise you, they resembled the cavalry.

Peaches forced me to drink a
warm cup of hot chocolate. “Next best thing to coffee.”

I sipped tenuously to satisfy
her bossy-yet-nurturing nature. “Thank you.”

Peaches, Quinn and one of her
brothers, Monty, had followed Stelson and me in the ambulance. Stelson had
regained some consciousness and control of his body in the ambulance. After
ruling out drug use, the emergency room physician ordered some kind of
specialized MRI, something we’d been trying to convince the doctors to do all
along. Shame it took a seizure and an emergency room trip for them to get with
the program.

Peaches, Quinn, Monty and I
perched in a waiting room. The soft yellow paint and bright lights cast a soft
shadow on everyone waiting patiently for news. I had to give it to the
hospital, the chairs lining the perimeter of the room provided adequate
cushioning, and we would know since we’d been sitting for an hour and a half.

“You all right?” Peaches asked
for the fifth time since they took Stelson for the MRI.

“Yes,” I answered, annoyed.

“I’m not. That was
traumatic,” she said.

Quinn intervened. “But you
kept your cool, LaShondra, by God’s grace.”

He was sho’ nuff right about
the grace. Peaches sat back in her chair and resumed the game of Solitaire on
her phone. Quinn studied the television. I wished for nothing more than a trip
home so I could fall apart in my prayer closet. The image of my tall, strong,
manly husband writhing on the ground while my son stood over him yelling,
terrorized me beyond belief…
This is too much, Lord.

I approached the nurse’s
station and asked how much longer it would be before we were able to see my husband.

“Last name?”

“Brown.”

She studied her screen. “Oh,
an M-R-I. We only have one in machine operation tonight. So it may be another
half hour or so before he’s ready.”

“Thanks.”

With some idea of the
timeframe, Peaches ran me home so I could get supplies for Zoe and clothes for
me in case I had to spend the night at the hospital.

“I’ll be right back,” I told
Peaches.

“You sure?” she tilted her
head, concerned.

“Yeah.”

“If you’re not back in five
minutes, I’m coming in.”

I released my purse at the
door and rushed straight to the prayer room. A stream of pent-up emotion flowed
out of my eyes as I prayed to my Father between heaving sobs. This was the big
one. The ugly cry. The epic bubble-snot, head-jerking cry.

God, I don’t even know
what to say. Stelson had a seizure. You were there, weren’t You? Why didn’t You
stop it? And my baby saw it. Father, this is crazy. I need You now. This very
second.

As I prayed, I remembered
reading Smokie Norful’s testimony behind his first big hit,
I Need You Now
.
Like Stelson, Norful’s father was lying in a hospital bed. He had wires running
everywhere from his body, and the singer had felt the same way I felt, which is
why the song resonated with so many people.
Not a second or another minute.
From
deep within me, I began to hum the tune.

And then a scripture came.
I
will never forsake you.
And then a translation from somewhere popped up in
my head.
For God Himself has said I will not in any way fail you.
Scripture
after scripture, promise after promise flooded me as The Comforter personally
lifted my head with His Words. All those scriptures Momma made me memorize, all
those hours in consecration and study kicked in and took over.

“Thank you, Lord,” I said
aloud. Knowing that He was there for me, I could be there for Stelson.

Peaches rapped on the front
door. “Shondra!”

I let her in. “Come on in,” I
said, wiping my eyes.

“Girl, I knew you were in
here breaking down.” Peaches snatched me into a hug and squeezed the rest of my
tears onto her shoulder.

We were both slobbering
messes by the time she let go. “We’d better get back.”

“Yeah. Let me get what I came
home for.”

“I know kids. I’ll get Zoe’s
and Seth’s stuff.” I pointed her to the kids’ hallway and she headed to Zoe’s
room while I went to the master bedroom for my things.

I took a tote bag from my
closet and filled it with another shirt, a pair of jeans and fresh
undergarments. I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste, a comb and a brush.

I got Stelson’s toothbrush,
too. And that’s when I heard Stelson’s computer ding in his adjacent office.
He
must have left it on.

I moved the mouse, expecting
to see some work-related file pop up on the screen. Instead, a discussion
thread appeared. The title:
Sick and don’t know why
. In the upper right,
I saw my husband’s screen name.
BrownBrother
. I sat in his leather
chair. Scrolled down and read my husband’s heart on a 15-inch screen.

I have no idea what’s
wrong with me. I’ve alienated my wife, my kids, my mother, my church family. My
biggest fear is that I’ll leave them like my father left me. He died when I was
nine.

Beneath his confession,
dozens of people responded, telling him that they were praying for him. That
what he felt was normal. They’d been there and done that and he shouldn’t feel
guilty. He should tell his wife what he felt she needed to know, but feel free
to come online and vent with them. They’d be right there for him.

The conversation took place
over several days.

I clicked my husband’s name
and saw that he’d been a part of several discussions full of encouragement,
venting, and amateur medical advice. The weight of his despair shocked me.
I
didn’t know.

“Shondra?”

“Yeah, I’m coming. Just
shutting down Stelson’s computer.”

I couldn’t process what I’d
just read at the moment. I closed the top without exiting the site. “Let’s go.”

Just as we rejoined Monty in
the waiting room, a nurse dressed in tie-dyed scrubs stepped in. “Mrs. Brown?”

“Yes.”

“Dr. Coyle would like to speak
with you.”

Peaches literally pushed me
so my feet would move.