I pulled out some money to purchase the newspaper so I could get a better idea of what was going on. I scanned the article. The head deacon at Love and Faith and the pastor of their daughter church in Alexandria, Virginia had been arrested the day before. The men were accused of molesting little boys in the church for as long as twenty years. I remembered Monica telling me that Kevin had been molested at the church when he was ten years old. I was sure that it had been by one of those men. The article said the arrest came after the ministry council governing the churches received a letter from a man who had been molested there as a child. He had finally spoken out after God had begun taking him through a healing process.
Monica had told me that as part of his therapy, Kevin had mailed a letter to the Bishop’s council overseeing Love and Faith Christian Center. In spite of his fears that his celebrity status as a gospel artist would be affected by the admission, he couldn’t stand the thought of any more boys being molested. He felt guilty that he had kept the secret for so long. I was glad they kept the source of the letter confidential in the article. Monica would die if the truth about Kevin’s past life got out.
I read the article further. Since the ministry council had begun their investigation, they discovered that several boys at Love and Faith DC and Alexandria had been molested. They expected that as the investigation continued, more would come forward.
My stomach churned. Twenty years? How had they gotten away with it that long? How come no one came forward before Kevin had? How many other men’s lives had been affected like Kevin’s? How could their pastor, Bishop Walker, not have known what was going on?
Did Monica know that the men had been arrested? How was she going to handle it when she found out? Was it possible to keep Kevin’s past out of the press or would he be exposed and affected by this as well? If he were exposed, how would Monica handle it?
I tucked the newspaper into the front pocket of my suitcase, grabbed both bags and ambled slowly toward the front door to look for my sister and my car.
I was ready to go home. I had hoped to be able to relax for a few days when I got back, but already I had issues to take care of. First order of business was getting up to Baltimore to see how my mother was doing. Second, I had to call Monica to find out what was really going on.
Two
If I weren’t already stressed by the culture shock of reentry, wondering what was wrong with my mother, and worrying about what was about to happen with Monica, Tiffany finished me off when she drove up in my car. As I expected, when I peeked into the backseat, it was filled with junk. Papers, magazines, clothes, and dirty dishes. I peered into the front seat and saw stains on my upholstery. When Tiffany popped the trunk, boxes and trash bags left little room for anything else.
I clenched my teeth. “What is all this? Where am I supposed to fit my suitcases?”
“I’m sorry, Big Sissy.” Tiffany used her usual term of endearment for when she was trying to butter me up to beg, or calm me down from whatever trouble she’d caused. “I forgot to take them out before I came, and didn’t want to be late picking you up. I could only imagine how tired you were and didn’t want you waiting at the airport.”
Since logic didn’t make sense to Tiffany, I didn’t bother to mention that I’d e-mailed my flight information a month ago and that she’d had plenty of time to not only remove her junk, but get the car cleaned too. “Just how long have you been driving it, Tiffany?”
When she smiled a weak smile and did her eye deflection thing, I realized I didn’t want to know. I let out a deep breath and got into the front seat, leaving her to fight to get the suitcases into the trunk. I tried not to imagine what my house would look like when I got there. When Moms had begged me to let Tiffany rent my house while I was gone, she promised to have a housekeeper come in once a month to keep it clean. She also said she’d check it on a regular basis to make sure Tiffany’s packrat habits weren’t getting out of control.
When Tiffany finally got the bags in the trunk and got in the car, I looked over at her. “Is my house a wreck too?”
“Of course not, Trina.” She rolled her eyes like I was crazy for asking. “Moms had that cleaning lady come yesterday. She said she wanted it perfect when you walked in the door.”
I lay back on the headrest. That was Moms. Always thinking of the details. Maybe she wasn’t really sick. Maybe she was just at my house with my favorite foods on the stove, a “Welcome Home” banner in the foyer, waiting to yell surprise when I walked in the door. I smiled, hoping that was the truth Tiffany was hiding.
When Tiffany pulled out of the airport onto the freeway, I grabbed the door handle. “Hey, why so fast?”
She frowned and glanced over at me. “I’m not going that fast.”
I looked out the window and it felt like we and all the cars around us were flying. Each time someone changed lanes in front of us or beside us, it seemed like they were going to slam into us. My stomach tumbled and my knuckles turned white from gripping the door handle.
“What is wrong with you? They don’t drive in Africa?” Tiffany stared at me then back at the road.
They had talked about this in my re-entry class, but I didn’t imagine it would be this bad. “I think I’m gonna be sick. I’m just gonna close my eyes until we get home.”
It felt like Tiffany zigzagged all over the road at a hundred miles an hour. I prayed silently until I felt her slow down and pull off the freeway.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. Sorry. Thanks for coming to get me by the way.”
“Of course, Big Sissy. I missed you and couldn’t wait to see you. I never thought I would miss you so much when you were gone. Made me realize how much I love your ol’ tail.”
I hoped she was being genuine, but growing up with Tiffany had taught me that any niceties always came with a price. I’d find out what her verbal affection would cost me later. “I love you and missed you too, Tiffy. You know you my baby girl forever.” I rubbed her arm, and we shared a smile.
I jumped when her cell phone rang.
“Dang, girl. You ain’t ever heard a phone before?” She pulled it out and her face lit up when she looked down at the caller ID. She flipped it open. “Yeah, I got her. Wait ‘til you see her. She look a trip. Nappy afro, no make-up, hairy legs, wearing some homemade-looking clothes with Jesus sandals. She ain’t funky, though. I’m glad she didn’t give up her deodorant.”
I laughed and smacked Tiffany’s arm. “Is that Moms? Give me the phone.” I wrestled it out of her hand. “Moms?”
“Hey, Tree. How’s my world traveler?”
Moms had called me Tree since my adolescent growth spurt. She said it was the perfect name for me because it was short for Trina and also accurately described my tall stature. She said I got the tall genes from my dad. I couldn’t remember him being exceptionally tall. He left when I was five and Tiffany was three.
“Wonderful, Moms. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
The few seconds of hesitation before she answered said more than Tiffany’s eyes had. “Of course I’m okay. I just wanted you and Tiffany to have some time to bond.”
For Tiffany to lie to me was the norm, but for my mother to lie? My stomach churned and not from Tiffany’s driving. “Time to bond? Moms, you know I wanted to see you the minute I got off the plane. Why—?”
I stopped myself. Whatever was so bad that had kept her from coming to the airport didn’t need my guilt trip added to it. “You’re right, Moms. It was good to see my baby girl when I got here.” I knew that would warm her heart. It stressed her out that me and Tiffany didn’t get along. “We’ll be up to Baltimore as soon as I drop off my bags and get a shower. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Me too, Tree. I missed you bad. You know