The Prodigal Son (A Reverend Curtis Black Novel) (14 page)

M
atthew took a couple of deep breaths and tried forcing his eyes open, but then gave up. Beeping monitors and several different voices surrounded him, and it took him a while to realize where he was. He was at the hospital, and soon he remembered why: Racquel had stabbed him multiple times.

He coughed a couple of times and frowned. He wasn’t sure what they’d had to do to him, but he was groggy, and he felt a little pain in both his abdomen and his right arm.

“Matthew?” a female voice called out. “I’m Mary, and I’ll be taking care of you while you’re in recovery. How are you feeling? Can you open your eyes for me?”

He coughed again and then squinted at the woman.

“Do you know where you are?” she said. “You just had surgery, and you’re in the recovery room. Are you having any pain?”

Matthew nodded yes.

“We’ll see what we can do about that, okay?” she said.

Matthew opened his eyes a bit further, focused them, and he saw her squirting something from a needle. He guessed maybe she was adding something to his IV. He’d seen a nurse give his dad medication that way when he’d been in a car accident a couple of years or so ago.

“That should kick in pretty quickly,” she said. “We’re going to keep you here for a little while longer, and then we’ll send you to a room. Oh, and your sister has been here the whole time.”

Now, as he thought back, he remembered the paramedics bringing him into the emergency room, and how he’d given one of the hospital staff members Alicia’s number. He’d been in so much pain, though, he hadn’t been sure they’d understood him. He was glad Alicia was there because he needed her. Sadly, he also needed his parents and wished they were there, too. He knew he was a grown man, but he was afraid and he couldn’t help the way he was feeling.

He lay there thinking until…

“Oh no!” he yelled, struggling to raise his body from the gurney.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” the nurse hurried to say.

“My son! I have to go check on him.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, so please try to settle yourself down.”

“No, I have to make sure he’s okay. I have to make sure my wife hasn’t tried to take him. I need to call my aunt Emma.”

“Why don’t we ask your sister to check on him for you?”

“No,” he said, raising his body and flinching in pain.

The nurse grabbed his shoulders and forced him back down. “Honey, you’ve got to calm down. You just had surgery and you can’t move around like this. You have to take it easy.”

“Somebody, please give me a phone,” he said, raising his body again.

“Please get his sister,” the nurse said to another.

“I need to get out of here. I need to check on MJ.”

Matthew rustled back and forth, steadily trying to get up until Alicia walked in.

“Matt, I’m right here,” she said. “MJ is fine. He’s still with Aunt Emma, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

“So you talked to her?” he asked, out of breath.

“Yes, she called to check on you.”

“And you’re sure he’s okay?”

“I promise.”

Matthew relaxed a little more, but he wouldn’t be content until he saw MJ. He wouldn’t be at peace until he knew Racquel was nowhere near him.

Matthew closed his eyes and replayed what she’d done. He’d been sure she’d left the living room for a while, and that’s when he’d decided he was moving out right away. But then, when he’d looked up, he’d seen her storming out of the kitchen with a huge butcher knife. He hadn’t even heard her come out of the bathroom, so by the time he’d seen her, it had been too late for him to jump up, but he’d rolled away from her. She’d rushed toward him again, though, and drew the knife back, and when he’d thrown his hand up to block it, she’d slit his fingers. Blood had spewed everywhere, but when he’d tried taking the knife from her, she’d slashed his arm and then his abdomen and he’d fallen to his knees. It had all happened so fast, but what he couldn’t believe was how he’d allowed her to cut him three separate times. Had he been that caught off guard and unable to stop her, or had he been naïve enough to think he could actually block a sharp butcher knife with no problem? Had he maybe not wanted to fight back because deep down, he’d worried that if he got control of the knife he would hurt Racquel even worse? He didn’t know what to think but this whole thing was sick and crazy, and he was ashamed. It was bad enough that Racquel had slapped him and kicked him in the head, but now she’d stabbed him?

Matthew closed his eyes again, hating that his big sister had to see him like this. He was so embarrassed.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Matthew didn’t say anything.

“Matt?”

“I’m fine,” he said, opening his eyes and lying to her.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” she said with tears streaming down her face and holding his hand. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Matthew tried to smile but felt groggy again.

“Matt, I’m gonna let you rest, but I’ll be right outside. I’ll come back when they get you a room.”

“Okay, sis.”

“I love you so much,” she said, leaning down, kissing him on the forehead.

“I love…” he said, but drifted off before he could finish his sentence.

When Matt woke up, he scanned the room and saw a different nurse than before standing at the side of his bed.

“How are you?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“I’m Janet, and I’ll be your nurse for the next few hours.”

“What time is it?”

She looked at the wall in front of him. “A quarter to eleven. I’ll be here until seven a.m., though.”

“Is my sister still here?”

“Yes, I was just about to go get her. But how’s your pain? Do you have any?”

“Not really.”

“Well, just let me know if you do, and here’s your call button,” she said, passing the large handheld pad to him, which also housed buttons that controlled his television.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll get your sister,” she said.

Matthew turned on the TV and searched for ESPN until he found it. They were showing highlights from tonight’s playoff games. Normally, watching anything sports related would excite him, but the more he watched and listened now, the more depressed he became. His life was in total shambles, and he was a disappointment to so many people.

He lay there, thinking, until Alicia walked in.

She smiled. “Hey Matt.”

“Hey.”

“How are you?”

“About the same. Have you checked on MJ again?”

“I just spoke to Aunt Emma a few minutes ago. Everything’s fine.”

“I don’t trust Racquel at all, and I can’t wait to get outta here.”

“Matt, what happened? Why did she do this? She could’ve killed you.”

“Why did they have to do surgery?” he asked trying not to talk about his wife.

“To stop the bleeding in your abdomen. Thank God she didn’t damage any of your organs, but she certainly could have.”

“I just wanna put this whole thing behind me.”

“I don’t know how you can do that. Not without getting full custody of MJ and divorcing her.”

“Whatever I have to do. But hey, did you call Jonathan and Elijah?”

“I did. They’re out in the waiting area and so are your grandparents,” she said. Still, she seemed nervous and had a strange look on her face, and Matthew wondered why.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I have something to tell you. And I hope you don’t get mad at me.”

“What?”

“I was really scared, Matt…so I called Daddy and Charlotte. I couldn’t help it.”

Matthew stared at her but didn’t comment.

“They’re worried sick, Matt, and they wanna see you.”

Matthew still didn’t say anything. He wanted to see them, too, but now that the opportunity had come, he wasn’t sure he could face them.

“Matt, please,” she said. “You know you need them, and so does MJ. They’re outside waiting.”

Matthew’s stomach churned, and he swallowed hard. Finally, he said, “Will you stay in here with me?”

“Of course,” she said, pulling out her phone. “I’ll text Daddy now.”

Matthew debated stopping her, but when he saw the door ease open he knew it was too late. He also realized they must have been waiting right outside his door.

His heart palpitated, but he kept a straight face. As they walked closer, he looked from his father to his mother and then at his father again.

“Hi, son,” Curtis said.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Charlotte said, already crying.

“Hey Mom.”

Now a flood of tears fell from Curtis’s eyes. “Thank you for letting us see you.”

“We’re so sorry this happened,” Charlotte said. “We’re sorry for everything.”

Matthew stared at his mom and dad, replaying the many awful things they’d done to him. Mostly, though, he thought about how much he loved his parents and how he would never let anything or anyone come between them again. Never. Not under any circumstances.

T
wenty-year-old Matthew Black, son of world-renowned Pastor Curtis Black, was stabbed earlier today in Mitchell, Illinois,” the short-haired TV news anchor said. “One of the neighbors in the apartment complex where Black lives has stated that after hearing loud arguing and scuffling late this morning, she decided to call the police. We have also learned that Black’s wife, Racquel Black, was arrested on the scene.”

Dillon paced back and forth across his hotel room, watching the news broadcast and getting angrier by the second. Even the Atlanta affiliates were already airing the story, and he’d heard it on CNN also. Too many people were trying to ruin Dillon’s life, and it was time he got even—specifically with Matthew for being such a selfish idiot and cutting off their dad in the first place and Charlotte for insisting that his dad fly home immediately. Had Matthew not ended his relationship with his parents, his dad wouldn’t have felt as obligated to rush back home to see about him. And had Charlotte not wanted to spoil Dillon’s trip, she never would have blown this whole stabbing thing out of proportion. Dillon didn’t doubt that Matthew had been assaulted, but he was also sure Charlotte had been hysterical and had thrown in extra theatrics, just so she could make something minor seem more like a life-threatening catastrophe. She’d been looking for a reason—any reason at all—to spoil Dillon’s time with his father, and she’d succeeded. He wouldn’t let her get away with it, though.

It was true that, at first, he’d blamed his dad, but over the last few hours, he’d done a lot of thinking, and now he realized this wasn’t his dad’s fault at all. His dad couldn’t help that he’d raised a couple of ungrateful brats—three if you counted his baby sister, Curtina—so Dillon knew that the only way to fix this was to turn his dad against them. He would start primarily with Matthew because it was pretty evident that no father could be close with two sons, and he would continue with his plan to eliminate Charlotte, too.

Actually, this made Dillon wonder how far along Melissa had come with her research. During his time in Atlanta, he’d expected her to call harassing him every hour on the hour, but so far, she hadn’t contacted him once. Not Friday, Saturday, or today, so maybe she was finally planning to move out, and he wouldn’t have to deal with her silly behind any longer. He wouldn’t
let
her move out until she’d helped him destroy Charlotte, though, so he hoped she knew that.

Just to be sure, he called her to confirm things. Her phone rang until it went to voice mail, though, and Dillon frowned. It was almost midnight, so there was a chance she was asleep, but she knew better than to ignore his calls. So he tried her again, and this time she answered.

“Hello?” she said, sounding wide awake.

“Why didn’t you answer the first time?”

“I was in the bathroom.”

Dillon wasn’t sure he believed her, but he didn’t dwell on it, because no one lived a more boring life than Melissa. So whatever she’d been doing didn’t matter.

“Did you find a good investigator?”

“I found three.”

“And?”

“They all have a lot of experience with this kind of thing, so I’m sure any of them will work.”

Dillon frowned. “Then what are you waiting on? Why haven’t you hired one of them?”

“I wanted you to decide on which to go with.”

“And how am I supposed to do that, Melissa? I’m all the way here in Atlanta, remember?”

“I just thought—”

Dillon cut her off. “You just thought nothing. I told you to hire someone as soon as possible. So why would I need to authorize anything?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll get it taken care of.”

“Can’t you do anything right?”

“I said I was sorry, Dillon.”

“I’m hanging up now,” he said.

“Baby, wait. How are you doing? I’ve been praying for you because I know this is a tough time.”

“How do you think I’m doing, Melissa? I mean, honestly? How would you feel if the only person to ever really love you passed away and you didn’t get to say good-bye? Huh?”

“I’m sure she understood why you never called her.”

“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll never know, will we? And anyway, what did you mean before I left?”

“What?”

“When you said you were the one who called to check on her, what did you talk about?”

“Not much. I would just ask her how she was doing, she would ask how we were doing, and that was it.”

“And she never told you she was sick? She never said she was dying?”

“No.”

“You’d better not be lying to me, because if I find out you knew something…”

“I didn’t, baby. I wouldn’t keep something like that from you.”

“Like I said, you’d better not be lying to me.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Whatever. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, but how are things going with your dad?”

Every muscle in Dillon’s body tensed up. Her question made him just that angry. “He’s gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“Supposedly that stupid brother of mine got stabbed. Haven’t you seen the news?”

“No. Oh my God, when?”

“Sometime today.”

“Have you spoken to your dad since he left?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should call him, baby.”

“For what? So I can hear how happy he is to see his bratty little golden boy?”

“No, so you can let him know you’re worried about him.”

“But that’s just it, I’m not. He could die for all I care.”

“I’m talking about your dad. Maybe you should call to see how he’s doing.”

Dillon was done with this tired conversation. “I have to go. Good-bye, Melissa.”

He pressed the End button on his phone and tossed it onto the bed. She must have been out of her mind if she thought he was going to waste his time calling his father while he was probably still sitting at the hospital. He did want to hear his dad’s voice, but the last thing he wanted was for his dad to think he was calling to get an update on his brother. Because it was like he’d just told Melissa, he didn’t care about Matthew. He never had, he never would, and there was no changing that. He hated him. With the exception of seeing him in a few photos and then last week when he’d passed him on the street, Dillon had never laid eyes on Matthew. But just the idea that he existed was enough. Just knowing that Matthew held a solid, loving place in their father’s heart unnerved Dillon. It was the reason Dillon had to put an end to this sham of a relationship that his father and brother thought they had. Although what if Matthew still wanted nothing to do with his parents? Maybe it hadn’t mattered that he’d been stabbed and had been rushed to the hospital. Maybe his father had tried to see him, and Matthew had thrown him out of his room. Dillon smiled at his thoughts and wondered if he could be so lucky. It was hard to say what was going on, so maybe Melissa was right. Maybe calling his dad was a good idea.

He picked up his phone and dialed his dad’s cell. It rang three times, but just as Dillon prepared to leave a message, Curtis answered.

“Hey son, how are you?” he said, and Dillon heard the excitement in his voice. “I’m so glad you called. We’re in with your brother now, and he’s gonna be fine. They had to do surgery, but they’re releasing him tomorrow. We’re taking him home.”

Dillon stared into space, not knowing how to respond.

“Son, are you there?”

“Yeah,” he finally said. “I saw on TV that his wife was arrested. Is that true?”

“It is, and that’s why Matt and MJ are coming to stay with us. We don’t want him going back to that apartment.”

Dillon wanted to curse the way he used to before he’d met his father. He’d been very good at it, but he’d also known that using four-letter words wasn’t what folks expected to hear from a minister’s son. He hadn’t wanted his father to think lowly of him either, so he’d given up cursing. He’d done it cold turkey, but right now he wanted to relapse.

“Well, I guess I’ll let you go,” Dillon said.

“Thanks again for calling, son. Oh and I’m really sorry I had to leave so quickly. I really wanted to be there for you.”

“I’ll talk to you later,” Dillon said.

“I’ll check on you in the morning, and I’m praying for your strength,” Curtis said.

Dillon ended the call but didn’t say good-bye. What good was prayer going to do? If it wouldn’t bring his dad back to Atlanta or stop Matthew from moving back into his dad’s home, what difference would it make? Dillon didn’t want prayer, and he wished his father would stop praying about anything that had to do with him. Although this whole prayer thing did make him think about his dad’s church and how he’d been practically begging Dillon to come work for him. Dillon had always shied away from it, but now that Matthew was moving back home, Dillon didn’t see where he had any other options—that is, if he wanted to be near his father and see him every day the same as Matthew would be. This was also the only way he’d be able to see Charlotte on a regular basis, something that was about to become more and more necessary. And it wouldn’t hurt to learn the inner workings of the ministry, either, because there was no telling how Dillon might benefit from that in the future. So, yes, that’s what he would do. He’d bury his aunt on Monday,  do a final review of her will with her attorney on Tuesday, and then he’d fly back to Illinois the day after. He almost couldn’t wait to get there.