To Each Her Own (The Swirl Book 1) (13 page)

She swallowed hard, seeing his disappointment on his face, hearing the tight tone of his voice, the deep anger in his eyes, and the heat of his sense of violation. “It is true, Daddy.” She put it out there. “I’m dating a man named Ramón, and he is black.”

His eyes spewed anger. “Shasta, now come on. You know what has gone on in this world. I’ve talked to you before. It is not safe, it is not okay, and it is not what’s best for you. Period!”

“I know, Daddy. You’ve talked at me ever since I was like seven, pointing people out and sharing stories, and telling me who I should be around, who I should play with, who I should be with. Even when I was a teenager you continued by word and example. And even by the time I moved out, same thing. You told me that I shouldn’t mix races, I shouldn’t make biracial children. But you never told me why. You just kept saying that I should stick to my own kind. Well, Daddy. I tried that. I really did. But I have also tired this, with Ramón. I’m trying something different, that’s all. Just something different from the norm.”

“Something different from the norm?” He walked toward the sink, looking down, and back to her, examining her face. “Something different? You make it sound like you’re trying chocolate chip ice cream instead of strawberry, like it’s something so easy, when it’s really not. If you keep this up, you could be on the road to having biracial kids. How do you just try that? You either do, or you don’t. And as my daughter, you don’t. I forbid it!”

The lump in her throat grew. She was angry, with most of the anger aimed at Tyson. Her remorse for letting her father down took over her mind and her body. She felt hot. She took a deep breath, and forced herself to swallow. She cleared her throat hard and then spoke. “I really am trying. Trying to honor you, yet I’m trying something I’ve never done and honoring myself. I have to say it to myself and be okay with it, just like I’m saying it to you. I’m dating a black man. Also, I’ve quit my job. Daddy, I’ve been looking back at my life lately. I have no kids and never been married, but I’ve been making good money on my own, in spite of your wealth and the monthly trust I get. And I know that increases when I turn forty soon. But I’ve never asked you for anything. Aside from the money, I want to enjoy life, love and be loved, have a family, travel, start my own business, and yes, date people who I have chemistry with, no matter what they look like. I want to fall in love.”

He looked away with flushed eyes. His face was red.

She noticed. “I kind of want to apologize to you for what I’m doing, and I kind of don’t. Should I be sorry that I’m excited about seeing what comes of this connection between me and this man of another race. Daddy, he’s funny, he’s nice, he’s open, he’s available, he doesn’t have kids, and he’s got his own money. He’s just someone I’m dating. Someone I almost have to date, just to prove to myself that I’m doing all I can to increase my chances of being with a potential mate. A potential husband. A last love.”

He brought his knife-like eyes to her expectant eyes. “Last love my ass! One thing he’s not going to be is your husband, or the father of your children.” He got louder. “I forbid it. And how dare you pick some black person who you work with, of all places? You’ve embarrassed me in front of Tyson. He and I go way back. I met him through his father. Tyson knows how I feel about this. But thank God he told me.”

She got half as loud, with her eyes welling up. “You act like him telling you my business is a good thing. A blessing. I can’t believe Tyson called my daddy like I’m some three year old, and here you are scolding me like I’m on punishment. I have purposefully ignored any advances from any man who was not the color of my skin for my entire life, just to make you happy. But, I can’t do that anymore. I won’t do it anymore. And that’s that!”

He stayed focused on her with a look as if he no longer recognized her. “You know where your room is. Go to it and think about why it is that you’ve decided to go against my wishes after all this time.” He pointed upstairs with his eyes.

“I already know why it is. I’m doing it for me!” She grabbed her purse and overnight bag, and then hurried, exiting the kitchen speedily, heading up the spiral staircase to the second floor, toward her bedroom to the right.

She heard the doors of the elevator open and close.

She slammed the door to her room, realizing that even though she was a grown thirty-nine year old woman, she felt like a disobedient child serving detention for disobeying the rules. He told her to go to her room, and she did.

Shasta violated the rules of race in the Gibson household. 

A no-no.

Chapter 16

Evans, GA

The next day was Sunday. At eight that overcast morning, after Shasta tossed and turned all night in her bedroom in her father’s home, she received a text.

Mommy: I heard you were visiting your dad this weekend. If you can, I’d love it if you would come to the 11 am service today. And then maybe we can have lunch.

Shasta: Sure. I’d love that.

Mommy: Lovely. See you then.

After having spent the previous day’s time in the tense home of her father, after being scolded and then ignored, Shasta had not gotten a wink of sleep. She had convinced herself to leave that morning anyway. So she got up and showered, and packed up her things.

When she trudged down the staircase of the huge home with her bag, she discovered that her father was gone anyway. She didn’t call him on his phone, she didn’t leave a note or anything. She just left, saying to herself,
I guess I’ll never get a key to this big old ugly door anyway.
She locked it from the inside.

It was eleven-thirty, and the church choir had finished, the tithing baskets had been passed around, and the announcements had been made.

The Wesley United Methodist Church in Evans, Georgia was a one-thousand seat contemporary worship center, only fourteen years old, made of light brick, with high cathedral steeples and stained glass windows. There were ornamental railings and metal hardware, with bibles and copies of the day’s program along the back of each pew.

The sanctuary was packed with parishioners.

Shasta sat back upon the emerald cushion, crossed her legs, wearing pointy gold metallic heels, then she glanced down at the program. The organist began to play, and out walked the lead pastor, Reverend Melvin Weaver, and the first lady, Charlotte Weaver, Shasta’s mom. Her mom looked classy, in tan T-strap heels, a white suit and white hat.

Charlotte, thick and tall, with alabaster skin and auburn hair and light brown eyes, held on to the hand of her husband. He waited until she took her seat, and she made sure to place a modesty cloth over her lap. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. They released hands and he approached the pulpit.

His tailored suit was gray, with a two-button jacket. It matched the color of his salt and pepper Afro. Without hesitation, he proceeded to preach, speaking in a soulful voice just as deep as the shade of his deep brown skin.

 “I’m focusing on a special message, a different message from the one I spoke on at the early service. For this service, the message is ‘The Gift of Family.’ Some people in families deal with things that have been passed down, mainly things they’ve been taught.”

Shasta felt her heart thump, and her chest rise. She knew her eyes were bugged. She crossed her legs and adjusted her clutch bag over her lap, bracing herself for the word.

“And when those things are hurtful, addictive, negative, repeated generation after generation, it can be called a generational curse. Those family members who are stung by piercing beliefs need a shift in atmosphere. When you can shift and move over, an anointing comes up and upon you. But most times it takes hitting rock bottom to shift. And it’s tough to watch loved ones hit the ground before they are motivated to get up, but that’s oftentimes where the lesson lies. And trust and believe, they have to want to get up, more than you want them to get up. Can I get an Amen?”

“Amen,” the congregation said together.

Shasta was so stunned that nothing would come from her mouth, so she said it in her head instead.
Amen
.

“You must extol, or praise enthusiastically, those who need the lesson. The devil hates the anointed, and that’s why he attacks families, because the word
family
means Father’s house, or patriarch or originator of the family. That’s why families take on the father’s last name, or surname. Surname is defined as a hereditary name common to all members of a family, as distinct from a given name. A given name is a first name. A surname is a family name. And with that name, many things come along with it, good and bad. Yes, there are curses that come with it as well.

“Psalms 68:6, God can set the lonely in a family. By setting, the word means to set like you set a diamond into the metal of a ring. Set to go like a sprinter who is at the starting blocks. When a diamond falls out, its setting loses its worth. It’s not in position. Don’t let your family lose its worth. God can set them. The regeneration, key word generation, starts when you are saved, and that happens when the rejuvenation of the Holy Ghost breaks the curse.” He began to walk back and forth, energetically. “You need to pray in order for God to break generational curses. Curses, such as insanity, alcoholism, drug addiction, lust, drop-outs, hate, racism, all can be broken.” He began to shout. “By the blood of Jesus, there is a power to be able to break the yolk; the yolk of cancer, tumors, diabetes, divorce, babies out of wedlock, sexual abuse. Everything God has planted shall be uprooted in His name. There is a power in your surname. Say your surname, your father’s name, out loud.”

“Gibson,” With her voice shaking, Shasta managed to say it loudly, along with the other names that were spoken, like Jones, Williams, Howard, Collins, Walker, and on and on.”

Many members began to stand.

Shasta stood.

Pastor Weaver spoke in tongue and held his hands out, closing his eyes, and so did other members. He continued, “Lord, break every generational curse of the names spoken by these families. Glory to God,” he shouted.

“Amen.” The many people yelled out the word.

He continued, arms stretched out. “God has created you to be a victor, not a victim. Heal the family, because the prodigal son or the prodigal daughter is here today. They are no longer on their father’s lap, but they’re in his heart, and he is in theirs. The blood sees to that. Familial blood. This is an anointing to break the yolk, in the name of Jesus. Amen. And so it is.”

Shasta, on her feet, moved, held her hands up and out, and looked over to her mother who looked back at her, winking.

And they both began to cry.

Chapter 17

Evans, GA

After the emotional church service, Shasta drove her car along the highway, following behind her mother’s new white BMW. They took the short drive to a local spot called Evans Diner, which was a place her mother promised had the best pecan waffles in the world.

With her heart feeling softer and her head clearer, Shasta pressed the
Call
button and said, “Daddy.”

The phone system dialed his number.

Once the call was connected, she heard, “Hello?” His greeting wore a frown.

She went right into saying what her heart told her to say. “Hi, Daddy. I just wanted to call. I know that as my father, and based upon generations before, I must honor where you have come from, and what has shaped your life, your opinions, and your beliefs. I don’t mean to be disrespectful. I think things do change and people do change, and when we know better we do better. I’m going to pray that all of this gets better, and that things shift. I love you, Daddy, and I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“Really? Church did that to you?” His tone was edgy. “That’s well and good, but it sounds like you’re referring to me and what I think and do, not what you say and do. The question in my mind still is; what is your problem?”

She gave a sigh. “Daddy, I don’t have one. I’ve been honoring your problem my entire life.”

“Maybe. I wouldn’t call it a problem. I’d call it a choice. I do have a choice as to who I want to be around, and mate with. And so do you. But I see now that your decision to honor my choices has changed. Why? Because you met someone black?”

Shasta’s mother turned at the corner, and so did Shasta. “I don’t think the question is why I am okay with getting to know a black person. I think the real question is, respectfully so, why do you hate black people so much?”

“I don’t.”

“But the mixing of races, Daddy. Why do you hate the mixing of races so much?”

“White is white and black is black. The more the lines are muddied, the harder it will be to know who’s who. To identify with our own.”

“Our own? We’re all our own.”

He jumped right in. “We’re not. We are different races, creeds and colors. I prefer to date white women, and I’m proud of it. White is the majority in numbers and in social status. Why do you think so many black people prefer light skinned black people? Because they have more white in them, and that makes them feel superior.”

Her mind spun with disbelief. “I can’t believe what you’re saying. You see white as better, but the way you’re acting, I don’t see that at all. Besides, there are far more white people who hate black people, than the other way around.”

“It depends on where you live. But from what I’ve seen, don’t get it wrong. There are a whole hell of a lot of racist black people in the world.”

“And a whole lot more white.”

“And how do you know that, Shasta?”

“If there are black people who hate white people, maybe it stems from what we did to them, keeping them as slaves, not treating them equally, taking away their rights. If you believe all of that was okay, then I’m sorry, but that makes you a racist.” She braced herself.

He shouted. “I am not!”

“You are.” She kept her tone the same.