Page 2 of Deacon

Marvin and Patricia Stephens have never tried to talk me out of my decision to leave Ribax, and I’m grateful for that. Yet. I can also appreciate the love they have always shown me whenever I come home during the brief stints I’ve taken over the year. Neither of them knew the real reason I fled the state the second I could legally do so. I only told them I wanted to see what life had to offer elsewhere. Being the amazing parents they are, they helped me find housing and paid my rent for a year.

Dad said the money came from the college fund they started for me as a baby. Despite having exceptional grades throughout high school that could get me into any college I wanted, I didn’t apply to a higher education institution. After working several dead-end jobs, I quickly changed my mind. I enrolled in community college, taking all my coursework online because I’m not social enough to attend in person. I obtained an associate’s degree in human resources roughly three years ago.

“Having my only child back home is one of the greatest answers to my prayers God’s given. I just don’t want to suffocate her before she can settle in good,” Dad says, bringing me out of my thoughts as Mom waves him off.

The two of them have been here all day helping me set up my apartment, and I’m grateful for their assistance more than they know. Not only did they help me get everything situated, but they walked in with bags and bags of groceries and other essentials Mom felt I would need.

“I love y’all. Thanks for being the amazing parents you are. I couldn’t have gotten this done so quickly without you. Now I’ll be able to sleep easily tonight and be ready to start work tomorrow,” I say before Mom can respond to Dad because it could potentially delay their exit. I’m expecting Robyn at any minute.

“Why am I sensing that you’re kicking us out without actually saying the words?” Mom asks with her hand resting on her waist while giving me a pointed look.

A smile creeps on my lips as my eyes bounce between my parents before Dad nods and grabs Mom’s hand.

“Let’s get out of here, honey. I need you to rub me down with some?—”

“Please don’t finish whatever you’re about to say. Ewe. Kill the visual, Jesus,” I say dramatically.

“Baby girl, after a hard day of heavy lifting, your momma wi?—”

“Stop, Marvin. You’re gonna scar the poor girl,” Mom says, laughing and cutting Dad off with a gag while covering my mouth as Dad starts laughing.

*ding, dong*

The sound of the doorbell on my Ring camera has me lifting my phone to see who’s at my door.

“That’s right. Make sure you always check that camera before answering the door,” Dad says.

Nodding, I walk to the door to let Robyn in after her image shows on the camera, allowing me to grant her entry into my space.

“Girl, what the fu—oops. Hey, Mom and Dad,” Robyn starts before seeing my parents and changing her words.

“Should have known it would be your narrow behind. No wonder my daughter was trying to rush us out of here. From your attire, I already know what’s on the agenda for tonight. Behave yourselves,” Mom says as she and Dad make their way out the door, pausing long enough to hug and kiss Robyn.

“I thought they would be gone by the time I got here. Whew, Mom sure knows how to chastise us without blinking, doesn’t she? Go get ready while I raid your cabinets and fridge because I know they got you together.”

“You already know. I won’t have to grocery shop for at least a month. I love that for me.”

Leaving Robyn to it, I head toward my bedroom to shower so the two of us can hit a bar or something for some welcome-home drinks.

Lord, I hope this girl doesn’t get me into any trouble tonight. I want a peaceful reentrance into the city.

“Cover him,Father. Protect him. Guide him. Return him to his rightful place in You. I trust you. I believe your word concerning him. I—” Mom’s words become distant as I lay my phone on my pillow and walk to my bathroom.

Unlike my parents and sister, I don’t subscribe to being a Christian, which is much to Mom’s dismay. At least every other week or once a month, she calls to pray over the heathen son who won’t let God into his heart and life. I’m what many in the church community call a CME saint because my attendance is usually only for Christmas, Mother’s Day, and Easter. Mom and Dad are a part of the deacon and deaconess board at Pursuing His Glory Ministries, which makes my lack of church visits bad in Mom’s eyes. It also doesn’t help that my sister, Miracle,attends church on a weekly basis and is also a minister at the place where she is a member. I blame Miracle for some of my torture because she lives out of town, which leaves me to be the child our mother focuses on the most.

Several minutes later, I return to my room, pick up my phone, and shake my head at the words leaving Mom’s mouth.

“Oh God, cover Prynce when he rips and runs around the city on that death trap with those people he likes to hang around. Do it, Jesus. Prick Prynce’s heart so h?—”

“I hate to cut you off, Ma, but I got an important call coming in, and I have to get it,” I say, cutting her off lest I subject myself to another thirty minutes of this prayer call.

“Why I ne?—”

“Let him go, Shirley. You’ve been praying and covering him for the last forty-five minutes. I’m sure even God needs a break from this rambling petition. He heard you, and He will answer in His timing.” Dad’s deep voice sounds through the receiver, causing a low chuckle to leave my mouth.

I can always count on Paul Redmond to jump in and rescue me from Shirley’s wrath, and I appreciate him. While Paul Redmond is known as Deacon Redmond inside the sanctuary, he has never once taken a stance on how I choose to live my life. Whenever Mom goes on a tangent, and Dad has to reel her in, he says one statement that reels Mom in… “Remember Jeremiah 31:2-4, Shirley.”

“Fine. Be safe, Prynce. I love you,” Mom says.

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