Joy Comes in the Morning (16 page)

The past few weeks had gone by slowly with Taylor making minimal physical progress and even less spiritual progress. Her attitude up to this point had been unbearable. On the day she was released from the hospital, my father and I pushed Taylor's wheelchair up the handicapped ramp, something we never imagined we would need to use, then we used the freight elevator to get upstairs, something we had to get special permission from the building's superintendent to use. Thank goodness the landlord promised we could move to a first floor apartment at the first availability. Taylor had started to receive disability benefits which helped with her bills, but she was ungrateful for that also. She complained about her tight quarters, complained about the stupid treadmill that was in her room and complained about the temperature day and night. I cooked, cleaned, ironed her clothes, and bathed her whenever I was home. It wasn't just housecleaning I was doing, but it was soul cleaning, trying to escape my guilt. How could I have ever said I was giving up on my own sister? During the day when I was at work, the home health aide took my place. Once a week, the van came to get Taylor for visits to the rehabilitation center. The other two times a week, Keith came to the apartment, determined to increase core strength coordination and muscle tone. He conducted tests, evaluated her strengths and weaknesses, and developed treatments to improve her physical strength, stamina, and manual dexterity. I became deeply involved with Keith's goals for Taylor's physical therapy, but the most important one for me was to provide positive psychological effects for the patient. Her injuries had not just affected the physical, but had damaged her thinking as well. Every day was a test, but I kept on praying. I kept on believing.

Joshua and I sat on the blue flowered couch, watching television and trying to drown out the obscenities Taylor hollered from her bedroom. Joshua put his arm around me, and I felt warm and secure. I wanted to drink this moment in and shut out all the other misery. “I'm sorry about all of this.” I turned the volume up a notch.

“Don't be sorry. This isn't your fault. Taylor will come around.” Joshua kept his eyes glued on the television program.

“Yes, but when? And will I have lost my sanity by then?”

“I hope not.” Joshua gave me a playful punch in the arm.

I worked so hard at home, at work, and at church, I hardly got to see Joshua anymore. Our relationship suffered because of it. The only time I saw him was during church on Sunday and Bible Study on Wednesday nights. Even then sometimes I was too tired to go and sometimes I would fall asleep during the sermon, but I kept on pressing, determined that one day it would be better. I didn't know exactly how, but I knew that one day it would. I put my hands in Joshua's strong ones. He looked at me and smiled before turning his attention back to the show.

“Aleeeex,” Taylor yelled as if the building was on fire.

“I'm coming, I'm coming.” I hopped off of the couch and went running into Taylor's bedroom.

Minutes later I returned with a cup in my hand, intending to plop back down beside Joshua, but he was already standing by the door, putting on his baseball cap.

“Oh no, please don't leave. I—”

“It's okay. I'll see you Wednesday night, all right?” Joshua yawned before turning the knob.

“At Bible Study?”

“Right.” Joshua gave me a peck on the cheek and left without another word.

I went to my bedroom, packed a bag for my trip to Africa, turned off all of the lights, sat in the dark, and cried because of how uncertain my life had become.

It was July fourth, and just a few days before my trip, when Joshua and I went to Coney Island. The humidity was almost unbearable, and yet the crowds were still packing in. Lilah was spending the day with Joshua's parents, but he assured me that the next time we came back to this amusement park, we'd all be together as a family. Of course, I gave the usual smile and tried to ignore the warning signals in my spirit.

Joshua and I stuffed ourselves with all beef hotdogs, fries, Coca-Colas, popcorn, and cotton candy. We played pinball, skeet ball, and a racing game. Joshua played one of the batting games and won an oversized stuffed bear for me. We rode the Himalaya, enjoying the speed and the music as we whirled around forward and then backward. Then we rode the rickety Cyclone Roller Coaster and held onto each other as our bodies slammed back and forth against the hard metal seat and the bar in front of them. We were shaken up by the time the ride ended.

Finally, we left the amusement area and walked down to the beach to watch the fireworks light up the sky. We held hands as we walked along the seashore. When we grew tired, we took a bench seat on the boardwalk and watched the timeless waves of the ocean roll by. Joshua turned to me. “I can't believe you're leaving me next week.”

“It's just for a week.”

“But I thought you didn't even want the job.”

“I don't. I mean, I'm not sure, but I want to try it.”

“I don't want you to go.” Joshua hugged me tight. “I'm going to miss you.”

“I'm going to miss you too, but I have to do this.” I pulled away from his embrace. It was hard enough for me to leave without him adding pressure to the situation.

“I know.”

“It's more of a spiritual journey for me, I guess. I'm more excited about the missions than the public relations, but . . .”

Joshua sighed. “It sounds interesting.”

“You could say that.”

“But why three weeks before our wedding?”

“I'm sorry, but Dr. Harding needs this done now. Believe me, I've stalled as long as I could.”

“You're right about that.” I looked up. “That's a beautiful sky.”

“Yes, it is. But not as beautiful as you.”

“You really know how to make me feel special.” I blushed at hearing his words.

“You're special, so it comes naturally. You know, I never thought I'd marry again.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I'm glad I met you.” Joshua took my hands in his strong ones.

This was my big chance, and I wasn't going to blow it. “I'm glad too, but what about Delilah?”

“What about her?”

“I mean, you never say anything about her. I've never seen a picture, nothing. I'm not sure that's healthy.”

Joshua's back stiffened. “Healthy? Oh. You're a doctor now?”

“No, I'm just trying to be a friend.”

“I don't hold hands with my friends.” Joshua pulled his hands away from me.

“You know what I mean. If we're going to be married, we've got to be friends too.” I pushed my hair behind my ears.

“Look, we've been seeing each other for three months, then engaged for almost another three months, and yet I don't feel any closer to you than I did five months ago. It's like you've shut me out.”

“I don't mean to. It's just that I—”

“I know you lost your first wife, and I know that—”

“I don't want to talk about that.” Joshua turned his face away from me.

Now I was offended. “Do you talk about it with Yvonne?”

“What? Where is all this coming from? Yvonne has nothing to do with us. She has been very helpful to me and Brother Jacob with the homeless shelter project.”

“I'll bet.”

“I know you're not jealous of Yvonne.”

“Why shouldn't I be? She's always in your face. She made it clear to me on more than one occasion that she thinks you're the greatest, and on top of that, ever since Taylor's accident, I hardly get to see you anymore.” I stood up.

“That's not my fault. In a couple of weeks we'll be married, and that's all that's important.” Joshua stood up too and started walking away. “Now, let's just go.”

The ride home was exceptionally quiet. We rode through the busy streets, dashing between cars, and nearly dying at each stop light.

“Why won't you talk to me?” I pleaded.

“We talk all the time.”

“Oh, well hallelujah for that then.”

“Look, the past is painful, and the future is uncertain.” Joshua never took his eyes off the road.

“But God knows your future, and He can give you a word of direction if you'll let Him.”

“I know you're not preaching to me.” Joshua pulled up in front of my building. “He is in control of my life.”

“I don't think so. How can we ever go forward if we can't ever talk about your wife?”

“She's gone. She has nothing to do with you.” Joshua sounded angrier than I had ever heard him sound before. I could see the lines of frustration in his face, even in his profile.

“That's what I used to think at first, but she does if she stands between us.”

“She's not between us.”

“She is if I can't reach you. She's between us every time I look into your eyes and they're vacant, every time I reach for you and you're not completely with me, every time I imagine our lives a month or a year from now and I draw a blank. I know she stands between us.”

“I'm sorry you feel that way.” Joshua glanced over at me. “But you don't understand.”

“You're right. I don't. Make me understand. I want to know what hurts you. I want to help.” I reached for his shoulder but he pulled away.

Joshua parallel parked and got out of the car. “You can't. No one can.”

“Jesus can.” I opened my own door and started walking toward the front steps.

“I know that. That's why I stay on my face in prayer.” Joshua followed closely behind.

“But can you come up for air? Can you come up long enough to talk to me?” I was almost in tears as I unlocked the front door.

Joshua came up close to me. “Now you sound like that heathen sister of yours.” I couldn't believe that he said that, but there was no turning back.

“Oh, really? Maybe I'm a heathen too then. We are twins, right?”

 

I drove the long way home, circling Prospect Park, East Flatbush, and Crown Heights before heading to my apartment downtown. My car bounced over potholes. People shouted, honked their horns, blasted their car stereos, and even gave me the bird, but I hardly noticed.

On the way home I wondered why women always had to push me to the brink. Why did they have to know what was on my mind? Why couldn't they just be satisfied with now? I never promised Alex anything; nothing more than marriage. That's all, and that's enough. Why should she expect or think she had a right to anything more?

I mean, who did she think she was, picking on me? I had been a perfect gentleman, even on those rough days when my flesh cried out for flesh. I had done my part and treated her well. Why did she have to push the issue and ruin everything? I didn't want to open up old wounds that were barely closed. I didn't want to remember Delilah.

Sure Alex was beautiful inside and out, and sure we would be married, but could I really have a life again after what Delilah had done? Could I really open up and trust a woman again? Delilah had hurt me more than I ever thought any human being could be hurt by someone he or she loved. She had taken my own flesh and blood away from me, the ultimate betrayal, and she had paid with her life. Marriage I could do, but what I didn't know was if I could ever give a woman my whole heart again.

Then she kept bringing up Yvonne. I mean, sure Yvonne was cute, with her tight little body, but I ain't going out like that anymore. I'm a child of God. I gave up that kind of woman a long time ago. Not to say that Yvonne was fast or anything, but she sure didn't look slow. Yeah, she fed the ego, but that was it. A favor to Sister Winifred and a good deed in general was as far as it went. I was nobody's fool. Why couldn't Alex let that go?

In any case, if I let the best thing that ever happened to me walk out of my life, I knew I needed counseling. So the very next day I went down to the church.

Pastor Martin's office was medium sized, with a mahogany desk and matching bookcase. A hanging fern graced the window, and the room was filled with many other potted plants, compliments of his wife, Sister Martin.

I entered quickly so as not to waste the time of such a busy man. As soon as Pastor Martin was seated I began to explain my dilemma to him.

Pastor Martin leaned back in his leather chair and wrinkled his mustache.

“You see, Pastor, Alex is a wonderful woman, and I don't want to hurt her, but I—”

Pastor Martin looked grieved. “I hope you haven't already done anything to hurt her.

“I don't know. I've said some harsh things to her.”

“Why have you treated her this way if you care about her?”

“It's just that my wife, Delilah, was a sneaky, manipulative, and self-centered woman, and she died on the operating table . . . aborting our second child.” I felt the lump in my throat as I held back my tears.

“That's a real tragedy.”

“I didn't even know she was pregnant until I got the call from some obscure clinic on the other side of town, saying that she was dead. It happened right before our second anniversary. My daughter wasn't even a year old yet.

“I'm sorry, son. I know that was a bitter pill to swallow.”

“I had waited for so long to find her–who I thought was the perfect woman, and then before I knew it, she had betrayed me, and then she was gone.” I put my face in my hands. “I never even got an explanation.”

“What a tragedy.”

“I can only assume that her career meant more to her than me or her own flesh and blood. Anyway, after she died, I left Syracuse and moved out here to Brooklyn. I had to get away.”

“You got away, but did you ever get over it?”

“I don't think I can ever get over it.” I balled my fingers into fists. “I left my parents' church so I wouldn't have to hear about it all the time or see it in my mother's I told you so eyes.”

“I'm sorry to hear that it's been so rough for you.”

“I pray so I can go on.”

Pastor Martin rotated back and forth in his chair. “And you're going on, but have you prayed to go forward? God can heal your heart so you can do more than just exist, but so you can make progress.”

In my heart I was so angry with Delilah for leaving me, for stealing my child away and with God for letting it all happen. The tears were coming fast, but I held them in. I couldn't let anyone see me cry. I was a man. “The future is so uncertain. That's what I've learned from all of this.”

“But when you serve the Almighty, your blessings are certain.”

When we first got married, I used to consider Delilah to be a blessing, before she showed me her true colors, before I knew how power hungry she was. Next thing I knew she went from demure acting little Delilah to a loud mouthed Jezebel. She was a local politician, but she worked all the time, and all I got from her were complaints. She wanted more money. She wanted more control. Apparently the last thing she wanted was more kids. I don't even know why she agreed to have Lilah. Maybe that was supposed to shut me up.

“I never saw any of it coming. Sometimes I think I wasn't a good enough husband, or maybe she never loved me,” I said.

“Please stop, Joshua. We may never know what was in Delilah's heart, but you're torturing yourself speculating about it.”

I stood up and slammed my hand down on Pastor Martin's desk. “But what she did was so wrong. I just can't believe it sometimes.”

“Listen, you've got to decide to live. You have every right as a believer. The Lord wants you to be happy.”

“You're right. I know but—”

“Now I've seen you go around helping people for a lot of years since you came to our church, and now it's time to help yourself.” Pastor Martin leaned forward in his chair. “Sister Alex is a treasure.”

“I know.”

“If you love her, maybe it's time to consider living again. You're engaged now and you wouldn't want to lose her.”

I thought about what Pastor Martin was saying, and my heart felt so heavy with grief and doubt that I could not answer. Alex was going away to Kenya soon, and sometimes it felt like she was hiding something from me too. Since it was already July fifth and the wedding was August first, I needed to know what that was.