39
More Family Affairs
L
ater that night, King, Tai, Kelvin, and Princess walked into Cut, Wolfgang Puck’s restaurant located in Beverly Hills. They were immediately led to a corner table, given water and menus, and left to make choices. After deciding on a diverse selection that included Kobe steak sashimi, maple-glazed pork belly, salads, Porterhouse steak, filet mignon, and seasonal vegetables, King started out the conversation.
“I think it’s important for us to speak our minds here, even as we are respectful of each other. At the end of the day, both Tai and I just want our daughter to be happy and if you’re the one to bring her that happiness, then and only then, Kelvin, will I welcome you into our family.”
Kelvin leaned back in his chair. “I believe your daughter is very happy.” Tai fought to keep from frowning . . . and lost. “Listen, Mr. and Mrs. Brook, when it comes to who Princess married, I know that I wasn’t y’all’s first choice. Heck, I probably wasn’t even on the list. But the truth of the matter is, from the moment I laid eyes on her I knew that Princess was the one for me. Yes, I’m young and have done my share of sowing wild oats and whatnot,” (okay, Tai should really be forgiven for the frown here), “but those women didn’t mean anything. They never did.”
Tai looked at her daughter, who’d said very little since they’d sat down. “You’re awfully quiet, Princess. What are you thinking?”
Princess glanced at her mother and father. “I think that we should address the elephant that is crowding us at this table—Kelvin’s mom.”
“Princess . . .” Tai’s tone was full of warning.
“Mom, we’re all grown-ups here. And until we have this conversation, the topic of Janeé will always stand between us. Why not just put it out on the table and get it over with?”
Tai kept her hands folded in her lap, far away from the knives and forks. “I understand your reasoning, Princess. Really, I do. And I know that in your”—
immature, sex-whipped, crazy-ass
—“mind, you feel that this is something that we can talk about. If you two ever have your own children you’ll understand what I’m about to tell you. There are some conversations that will never take place between you and your child. No matter what. No matter how old the child gets, his or her parents will always have forgotten more than they will ever remember, and be in tune with things the child will never understand. Any conversation about Janeé will happen with Janeé, not you.” Tai looked from Princess to Kelvin. “Understand?”
Kelvin crossed his arms. “Look, I understand the problems you may have with my moms, but she’s my mother. As long as you respect that fact . . . we’ll be fine.”
Tai met Kelvin’s unflinching stare.
Lord, please help me not to hate, or kill, this child.
Just behind this thought was the one acknowledging that anger and animosity would not get any of them anywhere. If there was any chance of this union working, they were going to have to clear Kelvin’s slate and give him a fair chance. Tai took a deep breath and continued. “It is no secret how we feel about what Princess has done. Rafael practically grew up in our church. We’re friends with his parents and know his values. Plus, he has never given our daughter one minute of heartbreak. So it isn’t personal, Kelvin, it really isn’t.
“No matter what has happened between your parents, this marriage is between the two of you. You’ve made your choice and I will respect your decision. Kelvin”—Tai forced love into her eyes as she looked at her new son-in-law—“on behalf of King and myself, welcome to our family.”
King shifted in his seat.
“Are you on board with this, Dad?” Princess asked. “Do you accept my husband?”
“I meant what I said earlier. Time will tell whether I accept him or not.”
“You said that you’d see if he made me happy. Dad, I couldn’t be happier, and more importantly, I remember your counsel in honoring my husband, cleaving to him, and the two of us becoming one. So if you don’t want Kelvin in the family, that means you don’t want me either.”
King and Tai looked at each other, both experiencing déjà vu at the last time their daughter had sided with this man. Then, as now, they knew it futile to try and change her mind. Then, as now, they silently agreed to go along to get along. Later, they’d also agree that Princess would now have to sleep in the bed she made.
“You’ve made your decision,” King said, even though tension could still be cut with a knife. “And we’ll abide by it.”
The waiter began delivering food and the conversation shifted to lighter, less volatile topics.
“How was Barbados, Daddy?” Princess asked, glad that she and Kelvin were no longer the topic of discussion. “Kelvin and I plan to take a honeymoon at some point, and we’re thinking about the islands.”
“It’s beautiful,” King answered, “Crystal blue water. Miles of white sand.”
Chocolate-covered cuties with toned, lush bods.
It was a topic he needed to get off of, lest a physical reaction put him in a bind. “How do you feel about the season, Kelvin? Do you think y’all have a chance at taking the crown?”
That question, and the delivery of their drinks, set the tone for the rest of the evening. The men chatted somewhat amicably about basketball and sports in general while Tai and Princess caught up on her participation in
Conversations with Carla
. “She feels it best for me to come on the show and talk about everything,” Princess finished. “Especially since the tabloid story, she feels it will help me retake control.”
“She knows from whence she speaks,” Tai replied.
The others nodded. Everyone sitting there knew about Carla Lee Chapman’s own brush with tabloid fame, how an overzealous church member sold pictures of her and a film producer to
LA Gospel,
the number-one church weekly. Later, it would be proven that Carla and the film producer were indeed having an affair. It caused the divorce between her and her then mega-preacher husband, Stan Lee, the subsequent marriage between her and the producer, Lavon Chapman, and the eventual marriage of Stan and the overzealous church member who’d exposed the affair, Passion Perkins Lee.
“Are you going to do it?” King asked Princess. “Are you going to do a tell-all on national TV? And are you ready for what comes with that?”
“We haven’t talked about it yet,” Princess replied, glancing over at Kelvin. He squeezed her hand. “There’s been so much going on that there hasn’t been time. But considering that Kel is in the NBA and I’m a regular cohost—”
“And a best-selling author,” Kelvin interjected.
“It might be the best way to go.”
The foursome continued to talk and get to know each other. Tai developed a cautious respect for the well-mannered humorous man who was the love of her daughter’s life, and King admitted that under different circumstances, he might actually like the young man who reminded him of himself at that age.
By the end of the evening, some decisions had been made. King and Tai would respect Kelvin as long as he respected their daughter. Princess confirmed that she would go on TV and tell her failed wedding/quickie marriage story. And King vowed that he would not sleep with Charmaine Freeman again.
40
Like Father, Like Son
I
t was Friday, a week since Derrick’s surgery. He was home. The crowd had left. His parents had left on Thursday morning; Vivian’s parents, the Stanfords, had left earlier today. Vivian had shooed the members of Kingdom Citizens Christian Center out of her house an hour ago and now here she sat with just the immediate Montgomery clan: Derrick, D2, and Elisia.
After placing the relatively simple meal that the church mothers had prepared on the table—lasagna, salad, and Texas toast—Vivian asked, “Who would like to lead us in prayer?”
“I will,” Derrick Jr. replied. Vivian hid her smile. She’d expected no less than little preacher man to step up to the plate, especially when it involved a prayer of thanksgiving for his dad.
The family joined hands. “Heavenly Father, I want to thank you for healing my dad. Thank you, God, for saving his life . . . and for holding the doctor’s hands through his surgery. Thank you, Father God, for bringing him back to our family, so that he can see us grow up and...”—Derrick’s voice broke—“stay in our lives. Please stay with him while he recovers, God, until he is well, one-hundred percent. In Jesus’s name we pray. . . .”
In unison, the family said, “Amen.”
“Thank you, son,” Derrick added, his voice hoarse with emotion.
“I want to say thank you, too, Daddy.” Without waiting for an answer, Elisia bowed her head and held her small palms together in the prayer position. “God, thank you for saving my daddy and blessing our family. Amen.”
“Amen.”
Following her children’s lead, Vivian continued. “Father God, thank you for saving the life of my husband, my children’s father, the senior pastor of Kingdom Citizens, and one of the most prolific men of God that you’ve ever created. I pray that you bless other families, Lord, who have loved ones in need of healing, and families wanting to be restored. Keep me humbled in this gratitude, Father God . . . amen.”
“Amen.”
The room was quiet as expectant eyes turned toward Derrick, man of God, biblical scholar, preacher’s preacher, and speaker extraordinaire. And for the first (and perhaps only) time in his life . . . there were no words. “Father God, thank you,” he said, clearing his throat and wiping a tear away from his eye. He bowed his head, unable to continue.
Vivian reached across the table and squeezed her husband’s hand. “Amen.”
“Amen.”
“It’s so quiet, Mommy,” Elisia said, after she’d asked for a large helping of salad and a modest portion of the lasagna.
“We’ve had a full household,” Vivian replied. “Are you already missing your grandparents?”
Elisia nodded.
“I’m missing my brother,” D2 said. He’d spent a considerable amount of time with Kelvin and Princess. Kelvin, especially, had been a calming influence in the life of a very fearful fourteen-year-old boy. “Can I go and stay with him this summer?”
Derrick and Vivian exchanged a look. “He just got married,” Vivian answered. “Let’s give him a few months to enjoy married life before we invade his space. Okay?”
D2 looked at his father. “How you doing, Daddy?”
“I’m feeling good, son.”
“Daddy, how long is it going to take for your hair to grow back?”
“Elisia, are you telling me that you don’t like my bald head?”
“I like it,” D2 said. “Mom, can I shave my head, too?”
Vivian knew that this was less about the hairstyle and more about D2 trying to look just like his father...in every way. He could do worse for an example. “If you want to, son,” she answered.
Father and son high-fived.
The questions continued to flow, rapidly and continuously. During Derrick’s first few days home, Vivian had allowed the children little access. She’d wanted his sole concentration to be on healing. But yesterday’s checkup with Dr. Black had left Vivian feeling more confident in Derrick’s recovery and more relaxed overall. His stitches had been removed and the doctor had been pleased with how the incision was healing.
“Mom, can we stay up late tonight?” Elisia lived for the weekends, when she could stay up past 9 p.m.
“Yes, you can,” Vivian said, smiling at the precocious twelve-year-old who seemed to be growing up way too fast. “In fact, your dad and I have a bit of a treat for you two. Anastacia is taking you to Universal Studios!”
Elisia clapped her hands in delight. D2’s reaction was subdued.
“What’s up, champ?” Derrick said, eyeing his son. “You too old for the amusement park?”
“We just went to Disneyland. I want to stay here.”
Derrick’s eyes clouded with emotion. “I appreciate that, son. Come here, let me talk to you man to man for a minute.” He looked at Vivian. “Excuse us.”
He led D2 into his study and closed the door. For a moment, he simply looked at his son. “Son, I want to thank you for stepping up to the plate while I was in the hospital, taking care of your sister and your mom for me.”
D2 shifted from one foot to the other. A wisp of a smile crossed his face. “Thank you.”
“In a few more weeks, we’ll be able to get back on the basketball court. I hope you’ve been practicing, because you needed to step up your game.”
“Kelvin showed me a couple new moves. I’ll be ready for you.”
Derrick laughed. “No doubt.” Again, his eyes clouded. Since finding himself lying on Mount Progressive’s carpet having a chat with Mr. Death, his emotions had been up close and raw. Thanking God daily for his life was something he’d always done, but now, in the wake of possibly losing it, gratitude took on new meaning. He looked at his teenage son, his once round body becoming tall and lanky, the baby face being replaced by handsome juts and angles.
Looks like it’s about time to take “the talk” to another level.
Which reminded Derrick why he’d pulled his son aside.
“Son, about tonight. It’s been crazy these past two weeks and while I can’t wait to spend more time with you, right now, I need some quiet, quality time with my wife.” Derrick crossed his arms and spread his legs in a streetlike pose. “Know what I’m sayin’?”
D2 laughed. “Dad!”
“This is man to man real talk, son. Women are like flowers. They need to be tended to, nourished, cherished. One day, I pray that you have a classy woman like your mother, one who you can shower with love and affection. But for right now, I need you to go with Anastacia, take care of your sister, and let me and your mama have some alone time. Can you do that for me?”
D2 nodded. They bumped fists.
“I love you, son.”
“I love you, Dad. Hey, Dad.”
“Yes?”
“Can y’all not call me D2 no more? I want to be called by my real name.”
“Sure, Derrick,” Derrick Sr. said. “Although it might get a little confusing around here.”
“Then call me Derrick Jr., but not D2. I want people to say my name.”
“All right, Derrick Jr. Will do.”
In that moment, the father-son relationship shifted. Derrick’s life wasn’t the only one that had changed because of his brain tumor. His son’s life had been transformed, too. Both were older, wiser, and filled with more love than they ever knew existed.