Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father (33 page)

BOOK: Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father
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“Saint, you’re being silly.
You haven’t even really met the man. But,” she shrugged, weariness bearing down on her, “I don’t like him much either. But I’m trying to be an adult about this. You know, I’ve been thinking about the kids regarding him. It was ironic. It isn’t fair for them to not have both of their grandfathers in their life if that is what he wants. Just because I’ve got issues with him doesn’t mean they have to suffer because of it.”

“If
you
don’t trust him, then why should I trust him around our family?”

“Then why did you invite him to dinner?”
Bite was in her tone. He wasn’t trying to upset her, but after dealing with Jagger’s volatile behavior and coming home and seeing that man standing there, he’d had enough excitement and surprises to last him a long while. Still, there was no need for the two to argue. None of this was their fault


I don’t know what it is.” He flung the towel onto the bed, exposing his semi-erect manhood. “It’s just something about him.” Grabbing his deodorant, he applied it liberally beneath each arm.


You’re just tainted from what I’ve told you about him, just like he said. I can’t say I blame you, but at least give him a chance first before you make up your own opinion. The man could’ve changed.” She slumped on her seat, her heart just not in the words—and they both knew it. Xenia was selling a bill of goods, and he wasn’t buying. Nevertheless, he continued to listen. “…And you look terrible! What the heck happened at work tonight?” She stood and entered the bathroom, keeping the door wide open as they continued their dialogue. For a few moments, he observed her remove her clothing then slid under the covers, butt naked, his muscles tense, and feeling fatigued beyond belief.


You look as if you’ve fought a bull and been on the losing end.”


May as well have been… Xenia, goddamn. It was crazy.”

“What
happened?”

“I had the talk about Traci with Jagger
. That’s what took me so long. He lost his damn mind. He was defensive, angry, sad, frightened. It was terrible to watch. I was actually in danger for a few minutes there, certain he and I were going to have it out.”

“Oh my God,
why in the world would he do that just because you asked about it?”


I thought we were going to end up killing each other. I guess it is because I kept asking and demanding answers. He doesn’t like to be told what to do or questioned about his behavior.”

“Hmmm, you two are too much alike.” Xenia grinned. Saint rolled his eyes at her and continued.

“He has this anger, I mean…it is crazy, Xenia. You thought I was a hothead? Oh no, I look meek and mild compared to how he can go from zero to ten in a nanosecond.” He ran a hand along his neck and slumped further under the sheets. “Before I get into all of that, one more thing about your father. Do you know what I
did
manage to pick up?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me something negative.” She grimaced, her lips twisted up as if they were being pinched
with a snack bag clip. “You know I have issues regarding him, Saint. Please don’t make it worse. You have no idea how hard it was for me to not curse his ass out when I first saw him. Like I said, I’m trying to be an adult about this.”


I guess you’re right. I’m not trying to upset you, it’s just…” He sighed and stopped himself. “Besides, I could be wrong, maybe going through my reads from your emotions. It’s happened before.” He yawned.

“So what
happened with Jagger? It obviously didn’t go well.”

“I wouldn’t say it went badly
per se. There was a resolution, it’s just that Jagger doesn’t like to be confronted when he does something wrong. His brain is like a computer. He deals with fact and figures, right and wrong, and the best possible outcome.”

“Traci said that about him, too.”

“He is a really smart cat but he has all that muscle, and his temper is really out of whack. I know how this happened. He had a really bad childhood, Xenia.”

“Hmmm, I’m sorry to hear that. It looks like overall he came out well though.”

“Yeah, for the most part. You know how some men repeat what they saw growing up, if they saw their mom being beaten? They will many times turn around and do the same thing to their girlfriend or wife.”

“Yes, that happened a lot in my family. It’s a vicious cycle.”

“Yes it is, but he is one of the few that decided it was his job to protect whatever woman he was with, even from the truth, and it has cost him. That’s part of the reason he stayed with his shady ass ex-wife so long but he always runs back to his intellect when the emotions start to crowd him. He doesn’t like to feel anything, Xenia. I noticed that when I first met him. He goes through life with a checklist and if something deviates from that, then he will try to delete it, and if he can’t delete it, he will go to extreme measures to not have his emotions sitting there, raw like that. His father raised him to believe that big boys don’t feel anything, that being sad and feeling remorseful was for the weak.”

“Wow. I find that incredibly sad.” He glanced at her. Her eyes were sullen. She really felt for the guy. Saint always suspected that Xenia was somewhat empathic. He could never speak to her about
tragic souls without her own emotions bleeding into the wounded. He appreciated that about her. The woman had compassion, even for those that had hurt her.


He is very hard on himself. He hates to lose, hates to feel like someone could hurt him, yet, he wants to be loved. He can’t have it both ways. Loving someone and
receiving
love requires vulnerability.”

“Do you think he has always been this way
or is this something he took on during the Marines?” She folded a small make-up remover swatch in half, and went over her face in circular motions, removing the earth-toned eye shadow, black mascara and ruby red lipstick.

“To some extent, but not this bad until his ex-wife turned his life upside down. I mean, he really opened himself up to
that woman from what I understand and she reached in, grabbed his heart and twisted that shit up like a pretzel. I’m not going to lie,” Saint put his arm behind his head as he stared at the blank television screen, “he is fucked up. The anger in him causes him to act out violently.”

“What?
But you said he seems protective over women.” She stopped what she was doing and stared straight ahead at him. “You don’t think he’d—”

“No, no. I
know
he wouldn’t. The man is strong, he knows he could kill someone easily with his bare hands, but I don’t believe for one second he has the capability to be violent toward women, just like I said. He’s scared, Xenia. There is something really sad about seeing a grown ass man wilt away in front of you, like some little kitten.” He threw his hands up in the air, then let his palms slap his sheet-covered thighs. “He is so in love with her…”

“I know.” Xenia smiled as she turned back
toward the mirror. “So what is the deal? Has he agreed to tell her?”

“Yeah, and I told him we’d be there to help him.”

Xenia paused. “Of course we will. If he wants us there then we will make it happen. Regardless, he has to do this.”

“I know. And he knows it
, too.” Saint yawned again, fluffed his pillow, and burrowed his head into it. He closed his eyes and fell into a light sleep…

 

~***~

 

After a few minutes, Xenia started the shower. She gathered her gels, sponges and shampoo, and stood inside of the clear enclosure, the warm water suturing her from head to toe. With all of her might, she tried to push the thoughts of her father away, but his tawny, smiling face reentered her mind again. A part of her was happy to finally see the man. After all, he was her father. Another part of her wanted to smack the black right off of him. He’d caused more misery than happiness in their home. The guns, the illegal dealings, the cheating…yes, the cheating. Pam had caught him one too many times running around her. While she gave birth to the twin girls, he was out in the streets, and her mother never forgave him for it. The woman was working two jobs and had given him the blind eye on so many of his indiscretions, but she needed him there, and he was a no-show. She almost died in the hospital, and Henry was nowhere to be found at the time.

Once
a good-looking man, he had used that to his advantage until the well had run dry. Age had caught up with him, turned him around to face it and accept that the jig was up. Deep creases framed his eyes, making him look older than he was. Back in the day, he was something else. He was slick, street wise and had a pleasant demeanor, looked as if he wouldn’t hurt a fly. But he hurt all right. He’d destroy people with a mere phone call, or send some of his ‘special team’ to collect a debt. He was a prominent Blood gang member and respected drug dealer, but due to his even temperament, easygoing ways and charisma, he rarely garnered the type of attention that would normally be associated with his ilk. He always seemed to slip right under the radar. That was his claim to fame. Supposedly, he’d turned a new leaf in the last few years, but Xenia had tuned her sister, Porsche, out. She wanted nothing to do with the man. Then not long ago, he’d entered her thoughts and she contemplated about how terrible it would be if it were all true. What if the man
had
in fact changed? Would it be fair to keep him away from his grandchildren? She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to forgive him, but as for her children, she didn’t want them to have to take on her own emotional pain. This was her private cross to bear.

Her thoughts drifted back
to when the man walked out of her childhood home. She had no idea it would be the last time she’d see her father until now. One minute, he was eating a hotdog, dressed in a pair of black slacks and a white shirt. Soon after, he was counting money and left a wad of the crumpled cash on the dining room table. Pam stated later it was exactly three hundred and twenty-one dollars… he’d abandoned the family and left them with a small settlement. The only turning he’d done as far as Xenia was concerned was his back on them. And one more thing bothered her as well. She was never able to prove it or have it confirmed, but she’d strongly suspected he’d also been a pimp for a short stint. The thought of it made her nauseous, sick to her damn stomach. Between Sinclair’s antics and now this, her nerves were fried like over-cooked bacon, sooty, greasy and crisp to the damn touch.

She finished her shower and wrapped a towel around her head, blot
ting it dry, and plaited it up for a spiraled look in the morning. After lotioning herself and sliding on an old over-sized gray T-shirt, she got under the sheets, next to her husband. He moaned in his sleep as she drew near. He immediately spooned her, grabbing her around her waist, pressing his hard body into her. Oh how she loved when he did that. She felt so protected, so warm, so loved. And she needed that right then, more than ever. Anger could make someone cry, making it appear as if they were drowning in sorrow when in fact, they were itching to tear a person from limb to limb. She hated that she loathed her father; after all, she was a loving and forgiving woman, but he’d deserted her and her siblings. Now that she had her own family, she didn’t understand how someone could turn their back on their own flesh and blood, their own child—their own tiny soul dancing in front of them…

She braced herself, vowing to try to get some sleep. She had a busy day ahead and would be running on only a few hours sleep. As she closed her eyes and tried to get settled, Saint drew closer to her and whispered so quietly, so sweetly in her ear
: “You can’t imagine it, because you’re a terrific mother…that’s a foreign concept to you. Don’t try to understand it, just embrace the fact that your heart won’t let you comprehend it…and that is one of the many reasons why I love you…” He kissed the back of her neck, and they fell asleep, so close, so connected…

 

~***~

 

Saint gripped the phone and looked at his reflection in the glass block table beside him. Incense swirled around his head and Erykah Badu crooned, “Didn’t Cha Know” in the background. He ran a hand over his knee and leaned back on the chase, the soft pool lights making the pool glimmer in strange yet picturesque ways. The water appeared as if it were covered in glittery silver ripples and yet, it remained undisturbed, his plans of a late night swim destroyed.

“And they ran all of them?
No results are out yet?” he asked in a low voice while glancing back at the house. A dull, throbbing pain hit deep in his heart.

“Yes. They did
all the blood work and performed an endoscopy, too. I guess all these years of keeping stuff inside caught up with me. Stress may not have caused it, but it sure didn’t help.”

Saint took a deep breath
and the conversation went silent for a while, as if the words and thoughts were frozen somewhere between denial and acceptance.


So,” he sucked in air, “just so I understand what we’re dealing with here, there is a hole in your small intestines from an ulcer that the doctor thinks has been there for at least a year or two? Pop, I’m not chastising you, but…why didn’t you see someone when this first happened? You know, after you saw the pain wasn’t stopping? Wasn’t going away?” He pushed the phone even closer to his ear, as if he needed to be sure he heard what he thought he heard the first time.

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