Remember Who You Are

Ch 39-41

Chapter Thirty-nine





The skin on her legs stretched tight enough to be painful. The only thing that hurt worse than her swelled feet was her aching back. Carrying thirty extra pounds on her petite five foot frame any longer than she absolutely had to, was cruel and unusual punishment. Tut, Jr. was three days past due.





Summer Tutweiler had been confined to bed rest for the past six weeks and it was tearing her family apart. John, her husband, was carrying the stress for the family, while Summer carried the baby, and he was close to a breaking point. Sometimes Summer was scared for him and other times she was scared of him. His inability to close a deal was gnawing at him like a cancer. Coupled with that, was her inability to help at home, the usual stresses associated with being an expectant family, and Tut’s temporary management job at the hairstyling salon.





Summer’s midwife called to let her know that her obstetrician had scheduled her for labor inducement in two days if Tut Jr. continued to be stubborn. Just like his dad, Summer thought. Picking up her cordless phone; she hated having to cancel her cell phone contract because they needed to reduce costs; she called her mother. One thing for sure, she thought, my memory was getting some exercise by having to actually remember people’s telephone numbers again.





“Mom? Hey. It’s me.” She paused and listened.





“The baby is fine Mom. That’s why I called. Dr. Sullivan is going to induce labor the day after tomorrow if nothing happens before then.” She listen to her mother.





“We packed weeks ago. And, of course, I want you there. You’re my mom.” Pause.





“No, I haven’t told him yet. He gets mad when I call him on his cell so I am just waiting until he gets home.” Pause.





“Mom, of course, he wants this baby. No, don’t you worry…” Summer heard Tut’s car door slam in the driveway.





“Mom, I have to run. He’s here. Bye.” Not giving her mother time to respond, Summer replaced the phone on its base and leaned back against her pillows. She unmuted the television and pretended to watch a game show.





Summer heard her husband come in the back door and she heard the door close. She could often anticipate his mood by how hard he closed the door, how loud his footsteps were coming down the hall, or how long he took before coming in to see her. The last one was the worst. Lying in the bed with him in the kitchen or family room increased the dread. She knew sometimes he resented her for being pregnant and being unable to help with the chores or the finances; but she also knew he loved her. Although he was relatively quiet, Tut was taking a long time to come in and check on her. Must be bad news.





“You want something to drink or eat while I am in the kitchen?” He called out, startling her.





“No thank you baby. I am fine.” Two days ago had been terrible. He had come in to see her, and she asked him to refill her water pitcher. Bottled water was too expensive. He exploded. She could have told him when he came in; all she had to do was call to him. That way he did not have to make an extra trip back to the kitchen. She didn’t respect how hard he worked or how much stress he was under. After refilling her pitcher, Tut did not come back into the bedroom until he brought her dinner. Last night, he was contrite and sweet. He realized how badly he had treated her and, although he did not apologize, she knew he was sorry.





Summer heard Tut open and close the refrigerator door and then she heard a cabinet door slam shut. Must be bad news, she thought. Steeling herself to smile when she wanted to cry took all of her self-discipline and control. Still, she was shaking.





Tut stomped down the hall and into the bedroom. He looked exhausted. His tie hung loose, and he looked like he had been drinking. There was a wild look in his eyes she had never seen before. “Hey baby,” she said, hoping she used the right tone of voice so as not to anger him. He looked ready to explode.





He stared at her for a second. She was not sure he recognized her. Suddenly he sat at the foot of the bed; sometimes he would kiss her first. Today would not be one of those days.





Staring at her with that wild look, Summer was afraid to breathe too loud.





“I lost my job.”





The stress was too much. Summer unleashed a flood of tears. Covering her face with her hands, she knew there was no stopping; she knew she just had to cry it out.





Tut was not in the mood for her crying. His jaw clenched in anger. Whether at himself, her, or the world, Tut did not know and did not care.





“You’ve been waiting on this. Don’t lie.”





“W-w-what?” Still crying, she had trouble following his train of thought or of responding in a coherent manner.





“You’ve been waiting on me to get fired. You knew I would let you down. You knew I would fail.” He accused. His voice increased in volume as he spoke.





She could hear his anger, bitterness, and disappointment. She had to keep him calm. “No baby. I had faith in you. I still do.” She knew she looked a mess. No makeup for weeks and she always looked ugly when she cried; not like some of those women who had pearl tears cascade down perfect cheeks and whose eyes filled with tears that melted even the hardest hearts.





“Yeah, right. Just admit it. You knew I would fail. Your dad has always thought I was a failure.”





“Baby, my dad never said anything like that about you to me.”





“I could see in his face. I was never good enough for his princess. Was I? Was I ever good enough for you?”





“Baby, I love you. I have since the first time I ever you. You are my man and always will be.”





He stared at her again. Suddenly, moving much quicker than one would expect from a man his size; he stepped around the bed and was right beside her.





She screamed in terror and fell away from him in the bed. Curling into a fetal position, she put up one arm to block any blows.





He stood looking at her for just a moment and then dropped to his knees. “Oh God.” Placing his hands over his face in shame, she could hear him repeating “Oh God, no.”





Still not trusting that she would not be hit, she stayed in her fetal position but lowered her arm. “Tut?”





Lowering his hands, she could see he had been crying. He’s ugly when he cries too, she thought.





“I am so sorry Summer. I am so sorry. You thought I was going to hit you? I was coming over to kiss you. Calling me ‘your man’ was the perfect thing to say.” He was breathing hard labored breaths that he forced out of his body. “I have never hit you baby. I couldn’t hit you. Baby, don’t you know? Don’t you know that everything I do is for you and Tut Jr? You deserve better than this. You deserve better than me.”


Oh my God, she thought. Rising up, she took her small arm, wrapped it around her husband’s broad shoulder, and pulled him down into her lap. “Oh baby.” She absently stroked his hair while she said a short prayer. She tried to bend over and kiss his head but Tut Jr. was in the way.


With a gasp, her water broke.


 


Chapter Forty





Wesley pulled into Simon’s driveway and the first thing he noticed was the freshly cut grass. Through his open car window, the smell was intoxicating. Wes sat in his car and just breathed deeply for a few minutes; Sugar Ray Norcia providing musical backdrop. Wes leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Devouring the rich succulent aroma of freshly cut grass, time and space faded away, the hard, real world retreated and Wes had a moment of peace and contentment.





“Hello friend Wesley. Are you sleeping?”





Wesley cracked open his left eye to see Matthew’s smiling face mere inches from Wesley’s. Surprisingly, Thad stood behind Matthew, his skinny arms crossed, and cocked an eyebrow. Can everyone do that except me, Wes asked himself, with a shake of his head.





“Hello my friend Matthew.” Looking at Thad, Wesley smiled and said, “Hello my friend Thad.” Wesley opened his car door and levered himself out of the car. “What are the two of you doing her together?”





Before Matthew could answer, Thad blurted, “We’re not together.” Wesley hid his smile. “Did you cut Simon’s grass Matthew?”





“Yes I did friend Wesley. Friend T-t-thad h-h-has b-b-been w-w-w-eed-wh-wh-whacking.











Wesley saw the strange car in the driveway as he moved past his own personal odd couple. From what Mamie had relayed in their telephone conversation, Wesley expected the car belonged to Lori. He knew that Lori had accompanied Simon to his psych eval as his acting attorney today and from Mamie’s tone of voice, Wesley feared the results. Since the motion had been filed, Wesley had visited Simon as least twice per week, as had Doc and Hilda Kirby, and between the three of them and Mamie, had worked diligently with Simon to improve his mobility, strength, and vocal abilities. However, collectively, they had no effect on his temper, his stubbornness, or his attitude. Wesley walked into the house. As he feared, Lori____, Mamie, and Simon were all in the family room together but each might as well had been sitting alone. Simon’s scowl spoke volumes, although the turned down end of his mouth may have contributed to that. Lori was glowering in her chair, the first time Wesley had ever seen her without a smile on her face, and to Wesley’s eyes, Mamie looked disgusted.





All three looked up when Wesley entered the room. Mamie was the only one who smiled. Simon shook his head and waved at Wesley in a “shooing” motion. Lori sat back in her chair and exhaled deeply. She knew Wesley would be on her side. “This is a motley crew if I have ever seen one. Did your dog die?”





No one laughed.





Mamie stood and with an automatic gesture, smoothed the apron she was not wearing. She moved to Wesley and planted a feather-light kiss on his cheek. Wesley noticed she struggled when she walked. Her gait was tenuous, unsteady. Caring for Simon was taking its toll on her. Moving in with Simon had initially proven beneficial to Mamie. Her desire to help others not only facilitated Simon’s recovery but also provided more purpose to her life than living alone had. Physically, Wesley noticed when Mamie stopped using her walker and he hoped she could continue to function without it. Seeing her today made Wes realize that Mamie was a temporary fix for Simon. Soon, thought Wesley, the crippled would lead the crippled. Mamie may need someone to care for her. The thought of losing Simon and Mamie to the nursing home sent cold chills down Wesley’s back.





“I have apple pie. Who’s interested?”








As Mamie shuffled into the kitchen to prepare pie and coffee for everyone, Wesley asked, “Okay, what happened?”





Lori pointedly looked at Simon. Simon looked at the ceiling. Wesley crossed his arms and waited. In a battle of wills with Simon, Lori was defeated before the contest started. “That man,” Lori pointed at Simon is determined to lose this case.





“B-hut-b-up. Bitch.”





“Simon!” To his benefit, Simon looked chastened.





“What happened Lori?”





“Yesterday, he had Mrs. Black call each one of his kids and tell them he did not want to see them for Thanksgiving. My understanding is that the family used to all get together here.”





“Can’t say I blame him,” said Wesley.





Lori exhaled forcefully. “Look, Simon can do as he wishes. But when the people who filed the motion to declare Simon incompetent are the same people that Simon dis-invited to Thanksgiving and those same people call the psychiatrist yesterday reporting on his mood swings and his irrational behavior and then,” here Lori’s voice rose, “that same defendant went into the psychiatrist’s office for a psych eval and promptly told the psychiatrist to…”





“f*** off,” Simon cut Lori off.





“f*** off,” repeated Lori.





“f*** off?” asked Wesley.





“f*** off,” repeated Simon. Wesley covered his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.





“Don’t you dare laugh. This is serious. And trust me; the interview went downhill from there.” Lori sat back in her chair again and crossed her arms.





“That young man, Thad, has been a blessing. He’s been by every week to help out.” Mamie carried a tray with slices of apple pie into the family room and stopped. Surveying the group of angry people, she said, “I guess you heard about the evaluation,” Mamie cackled.








The pie and the visit were finished. Thad and Matthew had been invited in to share pie and everyone avoided sensitive subjects. The visit broke up when Casey came by to take Matthew home. Wesley offered to drop Thad off at home.





The two friends rode in silence for a few minutes. “Man, what’s wrong with him?”





“Who? Matthew? You think there’s something wrong with Matthew? I think he is perfect the way he is. I’m working hard to be the perfect Wesley and I would love for you to become the perfect Thad.” Wesley paused and looked hard at Thad. “You could be amazing.”





Chapter Forty-one





Wesley absently clicked his pen open and shut in rhythm with Brahms’ Fourth Piano Concerto as a cool fall rain splattered itself against his office windows. He was not a person who automatically hated rain; on the contrary, one of the best things about North Carolina was seasons. The state had four. Sometimes all in the same week. But Wes was restless, and the rain discouraged him from being active. Cold rainy days deserved hot cocoa, roaring fires, and good books. Whoever invented work probably hated cocoa.





After two hours of class prep, Wesley deserved a break. The biddies would be by about lunchtime and he needed to give them some attention – having missed the last couple of weeks of the quilting bee. With Tut, Jr. having been successfully delivered; Wesley hoped his baby quilt would be ready by Christmas. After lunch with the biddies, Wes’ itinerary included a trip to see Simon and Mamie. Ever since Simon’s psych eval Wes had been spending more time than usual with Simon. Between Doc Kirby, Mamie, and himself, Simon was showing slow, but steady progress. Wes prayed it would be enough.





Closing his presentation folder for school and then closing his laptop, cutting off Brahms in mid-chord, Wesley remembered that his day ended in the classroom. Teaching brought balance and joy to Wes’ life. Although there were only a few students that showed interest, or even paid attention, that was enough. He loved the interaction, the questions, the futile attempts by the students to get him off-topic and send him on a tangent. Wesley loved tangents.





Standing and stretching, Wes stared out the window. Rainy days made him lazy, and he knew that if he did not get a burst of energy he would drag all day. Moving around his desk, he made an executive decision to drag all day. Wes stuck his head out of his office door just in time to see Susie lean over and lightly kiss Charles Loftin on the lips. Frozen with indecision, wishing he could unsee what he had just seen, mixed emotions swirled in confusion and turbulence in Wesley’s mind. He wanted to tease the couple and simultaneously; he wanted to allow them their privacy. Wes felt protective over Susie, and not sure how he felt about Loftin; he also knew that Susie could take care of herself. All of this only took a second; stifling a grin, Wes cleared his throat and entered her office.





Susie jerked back as if she had been electrocuted. Blushing furiously, she plopped back into her office chair and tried to act as if nothing happened. Loftin, unflappable as usual, cocked an eyebrow at Wesley as if to challenge him to comment. “Good morning Reverend. I didn’t hear you come in,” said Wesley.





Loftin smiled and said, “Good morning Reverend. Just let me say that I can be sneaky when I want.”





Wesley could not resist the opening offered by Loftin. “Of that, I have no doubt. And it looks like you are not alone.” Pausing just a moment to torture Susie, Wesley continued, “I didn’t mean to interrupt, your, uh, conversation, but Susie, do I have anyone coming by today?”





Susie sat with her hands folded in her lap and looked down at her desk – avoiding Wesley’s gaze. “No one at all. The biddies will be here at noon and I thought you were going to Simon’s after that.”





“And you would be right. I will be in the parsonage if anyone needs me. But I do plan on being here for the biddies at lunch. With baby Tut being born, I need to check on the progress of his quilt,” pausing just a moment before he left Susie’s office, Wesley added, “I trust I can leave you two alone?” Smiling to himself, he closed Susie’s door behind him to Loftin’s booming laughter.








Ten minutes later, Wesley was in his recliner holding Lucky. “You know what I need?” Lucky’s nose was less than an inch from Wesley’s.





“I need a doughnut. Do you need a doughnut? Can dogs eat doughnuts?” Hearing the patter of rain against the window reminded Wesley of the weather and he said, “But I’m not going out in that mess just to get you a doughnut. No matter how much you fuss.” Lucky licked the tip of Wesley’s nose.





“That’s not gonna work.” Wesley sighed melodramatically. Sitting alone with Lucky on a cold rainy day was therapeutic, he thought. Everyone needed a dog.





“Well,” said Wesley. “If we are not going out to get doughnuts then we have to have them delivered. And who better to deliver doughnuts than a cop?”








“That was such a good idea.” Gary Meade pulled a small piece off a glazed doughnut and tossed it to Lucky – who caught it.





“I think Lucky agrees.” Wesley paused and took another large bite, finishing his second doughnut.





Happily for Wesley and Lucky, Gary Meade was not too upset at being linked with doughnuts and needed a mental break so he was able to take time from work and buy two dozen doughnuts for the three of them. Reclining on Wesley’s sofa, Gary tossed bites in the air and missed his mouth every time. “I wonder if doughnuts are bad for dogs?” mused Gary.





“I wonder if they are bad for cops?” retorted Wesley with a sly grin as he watched Gary miss his mouth again.





“Hey! You can’t tempt me and the criticize me!”





“Why not? You should have been stronger,” said Wesley between bites. Lucky barked so Wes tossed him a piece.





“If you tell my boss, I’m gonna blame you.”





“Go ahead. You will still be the one in trouble.”





“Speaking of Rebekah, she loves helping out on Sundays.”





“Good to know. I think the girls love having her there.”





Gary tossed Lucky another bite, missed his own mouth again, and said, “I really do need to get in better shape.”





Wesley laughed. “Either start tomorrow or step away from the Krispy Kremes today.”





Gary sighed. “Start tomorrow, I guess. Next time you need to have a craving for bran muffins.”





“Lucky hates bran muffins. Besides, I have it on good authority that Krispy Kremes are served in heaven.” Both men chuckled, enjoying their easy camaraderie.





“Another reason to go to heaven. Seriously though, you seem to be in pretty good shape. How do you do it?”





“Well, you know I run. I try to get in between fifteen and twenty miles per week. Besides that, and my calisthenics, I guess it’s just good genes. Or luck.”





“Calisthenics?”





“Yep. Fifty pushups, fifty crunches, and fifty squats every morning.”





Gary nodded thoughtfully. “I can do that.”





“Then why don’t you?”





“Shut up Rebekah.” Both men laughed. Wesley popped the last bite of his third doughnut into his mouth and reached for his fourth.





“How many are you eating?”





“How many do we have?” Gary Meade laughed at Wesley’s retort.





“So, good genes?” asked Gary as he took a big bite of number three.





“Yeah, I think so. I don’t remember my parents but both my maternal grandparents were tall and lean. Like tough pieces of wire. They had a farm and a huge garden so we ate fresh as possible and, of course, Grandma canned for the winter.”





“That brings back memories. We didn’t have a farm, but we had a garden and a couple of chickens. I remember when tomatoes started coming in we had tomatoes with everything. Biscuits and gravy for breakfast with a couple of slices of tomatoes.”





Wesley laughed. “Dat dere’s gud eatin’. We had that or fried eggs and ‘maters then tomato sandwiches with mayo and salt and pepper for lunch and stewed tomatoes for dinner.” Both men laughed and remembered simpler times.





“They tasted better back then too,” added Wesley as he finished another doughnut. Having lost count and hoping Gary was not keeping track, he decided on one more.





“Corporate farming gives us year round tasteless and nutritionless food.”





“Here’s to corporate farming!” Wesley brandished his doughnut like a wine glass.





“Cheers,” Gary grabbed a doughnut and thrust it skyward.





“I need more milk.”





Lucky barked.