The Stones We Cast

3. Ezekiel

Icouldn’t move. Paralyzed, stuck, trapped in my bed with a dark looming figure standing over me and another at the foot of my bed. It took me two blunts and three and a half cups of strawberry Fanta mixed with promethazine, and four apple jolly ranchers to feel numb enough to go to sleep. Thoughts clouded with drugs pumping through my system leaving it impossible for a nightmare to break my dirty sprite coma.

Drugs weren’t strong enough to stop my nightmares.

My nose flared, tears pooled in the corner of my closed eyes and my body convoluted feeling the lick of a tongue prickled with small spikes licking my hands. I tried to scream, my mouth was bound. Tried to release my arms and hands from the chains that had me bound, my body was pushed down.

These weren’t your average nightmares. Jolted out of your sleep, gasping for air, and able to lay back down and sleep peacefully for the remainder of the night dreams. These nightmares weakened me and terrified me. I’ve never been oblivious to the supernatural spiritual realms of this world. Damn sure never had second-guessing thoughts of whether demons were real or not. To experience them on this level, scared to go to sleep because the uncertainty of whether I would wake up and see another day felt slim to none.

Why was this happening to me?

“Fuck.” Bracing myself on my hands and knees, gasping for air, body covered in sweat and shaking. I went from feeling someone was strangling me to falling off my high-ass Alaskan bed.

Shit didn’t make sense.

Snatching my ringing phone off the nightstand, I sat back against my bed ready to reach under my pillow and grab my gun. But who would I shoot? There was no one here but me. I was losing my fucking mind.

“Hello.” Even my voice sounded different. Hoarse and strained. The fact that I felt like someone was strangling me in my nightmare and woke up hoarse with a soar throat. Nah, this wasn’t right. This wasn’t normal.

“Ezekiel, are you okay, honey?” Of course, it would be my mom to be the one to call and break me out of my nightmare.

Clearing my throat as best as I could, I checked the time and groaned. Blackout curtains always gave me a false sense of time. “Yes, ma’am. I slept with the fan on last night. I’ll see you at church.” I knew why she was calling. Only three people were programmed in my phone to bypass my DND settings, and one of the other two was my brother, who was probably on his way to church.

“Okay, baby. See you soon.” She hung up, and I slowly stood to my feet. Fully coherent and aware of my surroundings, I looked around my room foreignly trying to find the source of the snoring. Under my covers was a curled up body that I forgot about. The more I stared at the rise and fall of the covers, hearing the burly snores, my level of pissed off had me snatching the covers off Candice, wanting to push her ass off the bed. Ain’t no way she laid next to me and didn’t feel or hear me fighting for my life in my sleep.

“Candice.” Jumping up out of her sleep from the thunder of my voice, she looked like a crazed naked maniac with wild eyes and hair.

“What? What happened?”

In this moment I felt pure disgust staring at her naked body. Doing as she begged me to yesterday, I used her body to help block out and try to help aid in a night of good sleep. Her sex didn’t do anything, nor her purpose of being here. The more I stared at her the angrier I got.

“Did you hear me talking in my sleep?”

Wiping the crust out her eyes, she nodded. “Yeah, and you were shaking too.” She yawned, mouth wide open, and I stepped back to avoid getting knocked in the face by her gruesome morning breath. “Sweating and all that. Just a weird experience. I thought maybe you were having a bad reaction to the liquor from last night.” She can’t be that dumb. She can’t be that delusional to admit that she knowingly let me struggle even when she thought it was an allergic reaction. Ain’t no way her brain cells are that dull.

I guess it’s fuck me. Fuck if I die. She was going to lay next to me regardless.

Fucking useless.

Counting backwards from ten, I needed to get her out of my sight. Fists gripped tight, I took a deep breath. “I’m going to take a shower. When I get out I need you to be gone.”

“What… why, Damien?” For the first time, I flinched hearing her call me that. Since I started my life as an adult entertainer, that’s been my alter ego. Never had a problem answering to it… until now.

“Leave.”

“Are you really upset that I didn’t do anything when I heard you talking in your sleep? You’re kicking me out over a fucking dream? Grow the fuck up. It’s not that seri… ahhh!” She jumped back, head hitting the headboard trying to run from me.

Brown pools of terror infuriated me. She thought my anger had to do with a dream. She thought I needed to grow up. My anger had nothing to do with those things. It had everything to do with what she didn’t do.

Yes, it was insanely impossible for me to think that she knew what I was dealing with, but she laid right next to me and let me suffer when all she had to do was wake me up. Selfish. Candice ass was fucking selfish. She came over to get what she wanted - dick and evidence to share with her following that she laid next to me. I got a reality check about the fucking company I keep.

Blowing this whole fucking shit show out of proportion and exaggerating. All of it could kiss my ass starting with her.

As calmly as I could, I asked her to leave for the last time. “Get your shit and get the fuck out of my house. Don’t question me, don’t say another fucking word. I want you to leave. Do you understand me?” I could only imagine the morph of insanity on my face that made her tremble with fear and eyes cloud with tears.

“Yes.” She whispered, keeping her eyes on me while gathering her clothes and getting dressed faster than it took her to take them off. “Can we…” Two steps her way and her mouth shut and feet moved towards my front door and out.

Before my mother could call me back, I made my way to the bathroom to get ready.

With the amount of sex, alcohol, drugs, and weed I smoked yesterday, there was no way I should be sober or functional right now. Managing to shower, dress, and grab a damn apple before leaving my house. All with no signs of my inebriation a few hours ago shows the demonic power that once held me captive but the power of God’s mercy.

Mount Evergreen saw my face at least three to four Sundays a month, unless I was out of town. Part of my attendance had to do with my mom. She barely asked much of me these days. Her main request was that I sit in one of the pews at church and come to Sunday dinner. For her, I came. Put my pride aside and sat through one of Bishop Cambridge’s sermons that condemned everything about the lifestyle I lived.

This Sunday wasn’t any different. The parking lot was full. Greeting committee welcomed me inside with inviting smiles. Tunnel vision on my destination ahead. Avoiding eye contact with the women who, unsurprisingly, were all too familiar with the curve of my dick. A quick three second pause at the main entrance doors before walking towards the side steps up to the balcony where most of the famous people sat out of respect for Bishop. Nothing felt more awkward than sitting front pew with a punch of eyes on you, ignoring the sermon, and trying to sneak pictures.

Annoying and disrespectful.

Taking my usual corner seat with a straight view of the pulpit, I sat back, and it finally felt like I could breathe. My burdens of what I saw sleeping were no more. This was the other part of the reason I made it a habit to come. In these church walls, the things that burdened me were of no existence. It’s here where I felt empowered as a man. However, by the same token, I often wondered if I was making a mockery out of God.

Only coming to him when I felt weak and needed to wash myself free of all my past sins to start a new week collecting fresh ones. I was raised in the church. Believed in God like the next bible thumping saint. Was even baptized right here in the baptismal pool. None of that stopped me from drifting away like I have. So caught up in the fast life. Money and women. Power and greed.

“Life was never meant to be easy. It’s filled with adversity, trials, and tribulations. Filled with fighting for your sanity and discouragement.” Pacing back and forth, Bishop tugged on his beard looking down at the floor. “I never wanted this life. Life of accountability. Life of a shepherd. Back in the day, I was king of the streets.” In some capacity he still is, but I’ll let him be great. “I reigned supreme. I loved what I did until it turned on me and tried to kill me. I wanted God to love me in the streets. I prayed always. Prayed for God to protect me and my brothers. Protect my wife and kids. Protect me while I’m handling business.”

Shifting in my seat, his testimony triggered my conviction, making me uncomfortable. Daily I made those same prayer declarations he did. To hear him admit that he was once in my shoes gave me an awareness that I wasn’t alone.

“In gun fights. Street wars. Doctors telling Aziza that it’s a miracle I made it. Got me questioning why. Why save me, God? Why continue to spare my life? What purpose can you give me that I can’t give myself? I had the money. Had the diamonds. Had the houses and cars. Life was full of luxury. So, what benefit would I gain by leaving all of this behind to follow you? If I’m the leader of my castle out here in the streets, what makes you think I’m going to leave my throne to now be bound by rules?” He chuckled to himself, the congregation on their feet.

“The last time I was in a street war I was shot over twenty times. Bullets hit everything but my organs. My wife was on life support. My sons.” His voice became shaky. “My brother was pronounced dead. My only living sibling is dead. My wife expected to die. My sons…” Every time he spoke about his kids, emotions rocked him hard, making him unable to finish. “I’ve never shared this with anyone but God is pushing me too. Whomever this is for, I hope your heart is open to receive it.” At that moment Bishop lifted his head and his eyes looked until they landed on me.

“I’ve always been a stubborn goat. Prideful. Ego twice as big. Laying on that operation table, I coded twice. Twice. That second time God gave me an experience that forever changed my life. An out-of-body experience. He gave me a full 4D view of myself lying on that table. Took me to the room where my wife was. Took me to the cold room where they had declared my brother dead.” He paused, skipping over whatever happened to his sons. “Then God showed me this life unknown to me.

“My children were happy and thriving. My wife healed and was more beautiful than the day I met her just glowing in our love. My brother, breaking generational curses. Everyone connected to me was living with no fear of looking over their shoulders. There were no illegal businesses connected to my wealth. But then he showed me death and suffering. What would happen to my family if I continued to live the way I did. See, I thought the life I was living was my purpose. Ruling the streets. That ain’t a simple job. I took care of my community. I put money in men’s pockets. I paid for medical bills. How was what I was doing not being a good steward to God? He gave me a choice. Either leave that life behind me or give my life to him? If I didn’t, everyone around me would perish. Sounds crazy, right? Cause why would God allow others to suffer because of my stubbornness?

“Every one of you has a God-given purpose, and free will to decide to accept the call when you’ve been chosen. There are people connected to your obedience. Living in the world, I was leading people to hell and not towards righteousness. God had to break me down and show me that the enemy likes to play these tricks and mind games. Just because money is in your bank account doesn’t mean it came from God. See, the enemy likes to create these illusions that you’re better off without God because you’re not suffering like someone who is following God. Who said following God brings suffering? The enemy blinds, but God gives light. Them weapons form but they aren’t prospering. Who said believers are poor? Let me tell you something, God never intended for his children to be poor but rich because how else can you help another in need? Travel where he needs you to go to be a witness to someone else?”

Church went crazy. The band played music, and the atmosphere changed. My heart was pounding like crazy.

“God’s blessing is keeping his hands on you, covering you even while you are out there selling your soul. You’ve never had one disease in a world where AIDs and HIV are still prevalent. The conviction your feeling is God, and the war some of you are fighting in your sleep is the enemy. God is trying to save you and call you to peace and righteousness. Sacrifice all these worldly riches and accolades. Ask yourself - what profits a man to gain the world but lose his soul? What have you gained living the way you do? Do you have peace? Do you have love? Do you have vision? When I was in the streets, all I saw were the streets. My vision was small and my understanding had me thinking that I’m the man.” He clapped his hand and hopped around.

“You know what I gained by being in the streets? Stress, always feeling like someone is after me, a looming constant danger over my life and the lives of my loved ones. I had no peace. That was a foreign concept to me. I had love, yes, but it came with hardships. Sacrifices that weren’t equal.” He slowed his walking, took a set on the first step, and waited until the church got quiet and the members seated.

“I miss it. I won’t lie because I do. I miss the adrenaline, but that’s it. Two years straight, I went to a funeral every weekend. That’s over a hundred people close to me dying. Friends, guys I grew up with. Men on my payroll. Relatives. Every time I prepared my heart to heal from mourning, it was breaking again. I had no peace. I had no more tears to shed, I became numb. It wasn’t easy walking away from everything I had ever known. Sometimes I was Lot’s wife constantly looking back. Mourning my old life until God asked me Why don’t you trust me with your future like you trusted me to keep you alive in your past?” The church got crunk all over again. Some running around. Some crying and shouting.

All I could do was sit there with a big ass smile on my face. I felt joy and happiness. These people’s worship was contagious, and I loved sitting in the midst of it. Contrary to how I lived my life, I found peace in the presence of God.

“So many of you think that you can’t be successful living right with God. Who in the hell told you that lie? I’ve never seen the righteous forsaken. Never. Success God’s way doesn’t come with tarnishing your image or selling yourself. It comes with peace, clarity, and longevity. Trust me, I know. I’m rich in favor. Rich in peace. Rich in the flexibility of my limbs. I’m rich in having a sane mind. Glory be to God.”

People liked to say God had a sense of humor when it came to the way He aligned things to happen in your life. That’s not a sense of humor, that’s intention. I should’ve been hungover in my bed, sleeping the day away. Instead, I’m alert and here, listening to a sermon that felt very intentional to my circumstances. From the beginning of Bishop’s sermon to the end, it was all done with grave purpose. Being here sober minded was intentional by God because He needed me to hear the warning. At least that’s what I took from it.

His message was a warning, and I was uncertain of how I’d even begin adhering to it with how deeply I lived my life so far from the cross.

* * *

“Uncle Ez,can you take me to Sky Zone for my birthday?” Using me as her personal jungle gym, my nine-year-old niece Halle balanced herself on my shoulders while her ten-month-old brother, JD Jr. used my arms and chest as his drum set. After church, I spoke to my family and followed them over to my parent’s house for Sunday dinner.

My brother and I made a bet that we wouldn’t make it an hour before my dad started his usual shit. He barely acknowledged my presence at church. I was used to his disappointment. It’s been a part of my life since I got injured in college and his dreams of having a son in the NFL were destroyed. Forget about me, the one who had to physically and mentally adjust to the narrative that I’ll never play again. This man mourned and continues to mourn like my injury happened to him.

“We can go wherever you want to go.” My niece and nephew were my heart and soft spot. Unlike my dad, my brother Jeremiah never turned his back on me or allowed what I did for a living to alter his love for me. No matter how many times my dad spewed insults, his position as my brother and best friend never changed.

“One day you’re going to learn to listen to me, son. You better stop letting your daughter hang around him before she becomes a low-budget prostitute.” Ah, there it is. The first insult of the day.

“What have I told you about talking like that around my kids?” Leann, Jeremiah’s wife, came around the corner from the kitchen with her apron on, a spatula in one hand, and a bowl of whipped cream in another. “I don’t give a flying frog’s ass what Ezekiel does for a living. He will always be in my kid’s life because I made that choice. At least he knows how to separate business from personal, unlike your ass. Baby, get your daddy, ‘cause I’m getting really tired of him casting stones like he’s so holier than though. Let me go finish this pie before I end up hurting your feelings. It’s always the biggest hypocrites that got so much shit to say.” Leann was by far the least fan of my dad’s and made it her business to make it known that she didn’t like him.

Her disdain started with his lack of urgency when it came to caring for my mom. He wanted everybody to do their part but had every excuse why he couldn’t do his. The most effort he put into anything was exercising his damn gums, running off at the mouth about how much of a disgrace I was.

In all her five-foot glory and as beautiful as she could be, Leann spoke her mind. When my brother first started dating her almost fifteen years ago, I warned him that Pompano women were different. A different bread than Broward women. She graduated from Ely High School. That right there said it all. She grew up a fighter protecting those she loved. That extended to us, extended to me.

“Pick your battles, Pop.” That’s all Jeremiah said, never taking his eyes off the TV.

My mom, on the other hand, sat curled up on the couch, humming, and smiling. All of her kids and grandkids were under the same roof. That’s all she cared about. Not my dad running his mouth. All she wanted was her kids present, and we gave it to her.

“Food is ready,” Leann announced.

Since my mom got sick, the tradition of our dinners slightly changed. It went from my mom and Leann in the kitchen to Leann cooking every other Sunday and us catering the others. We made sure the places we catered from were mom’s favorite. She loved it. Looked forward to this one day all week.

My brother said grace and plates were passed. Mom sat at one end and Dad at the other. The four of us conversed while he sat there, all sour-faced. No one paid him any attention, not even his grandkids. He always tried to suck the joy out of a space but it was hard to do that when the others in the room weren’t falling for his typical bullshit.

“Oh Ezekiel, before we head to my appointment on Tuesday, do you mind picking me up a little early so we can have breakfast at Another Broken Egg? I absolutely love their biscuits and grape jelly.” My mom could have whatever her heart desired.

“Absolutely, and if you’re up to it, we can ride through Butterfly Park so you can see the new botanical garden.”

Squeezing my hand, she leaned over and I met her the rest of the way so she could kiss my cheek. “I love you, baby. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, ma.” She never had to. I loved her more than anything in this world.

“Well, since everyone is all cheerful and jolly. Let me go get dessert. I had it specially made.” We all watched my dad get up and go in the kitchen.

“I’m telling you right now, Jeremiah. If your father is up to his usual shit, I’m cussing his ass out and going home. You and your big head kids can spend the night here with him.” Leann played no games and spared my brother no foul.

“What the hell did I do?” Jeremiah knew his wife’s temper wasn’t long at all. How she managed to be a principal of a high school, I have no idea. “And why my kids gotta have big heads?”

“Look at them and look at me.” She had a point. JJ and Halle had some big heads on them and it sure wasn’t a trait they got from their mother.

My mama was so tickled. “Jeremiah, just admit it. You have a big head. I know that more than anyone. I endured hours of excruciating pain to deliver you. I can still remember the pain of having to be stitched up like it was yesterday.” She shivered, making us all laugh.

“Alright, everybody. Here it is. Shay’s infamous carrot cheesecake pie with extra pecans and whipped cream.” Dad placed the round cake on the table and everyone gasped but me. “Ezekiel, it’s your favorite. Ain’t it nice?” Overly elated, he laughed and smiled. “She says the covering of the cake is fondant. It was needed to add all the decorations I wanted. Congratulations on your awards and continued disgrace on this family, Ezekiel.”

By decorations, he meant the words AIDS, HIV, STDS, WHORE, and PROSTITUTE. Fondant decorated money and condoms. Basically a mockery of what he depicted my life to be. A whole cake filled with nothing but slander and shame.

“Daddy, what does H…I…V spell?” Hearing my niece ask that question, I felt low. It hurt my heart and pained me to see my mother sitting there crying and my niece genuinely curious about the words on the cake. “Mommy, can you cut me a piece, please?”

“Damien, how dare you do this to our son?” My mom sobbed.

“How dare I?” Dad roared, glaring at me with more hate in his eyes than any father should have for their child. “How dare all of you sit here and pretend. Y’all can be blind and pretend to not see what he is but not me. Ain’t this what you wanted? Me to be happy. Well, I bought a damn cake to celebrate his embarrassment. Leann, be a doll and cut me a piece.” He sat down like he hadn’t once again ruined another dinner.

Jeremiah tried to stop Leann, but she was on a mission. “Sure. Honey, why don’t you take the kids to wash their hands while I start cleaning up here?”

My brother looked afraid. Not for his wife, but for dad. Listening to the one with most sense, he gathered his children and took them out of the dining room.

“I just love Shay’s cakes. She’s the best to ever do it.” When Leann rambled, it wasn’t good for anybody. “Ooou, and she added pecans in the middle.”

“I did good, huh? Ima eat this and then watch the Dolphins game. A perfect Sunday. Ain’t it, Ezekiel?”

I still hadn’t said a word or moved. I think my body was in pure shock that my father went this low. That he was so disappointed in me that he would go this far and cause this much embarrassment to not only me but my mother who hadn’t been able to stop crying.

“Mama, I…”

“It’s okay, Ezekiel. I’m… I’m going to go lay down.” Slowly, she rose and kissed my cheek. “Text me when you make it home, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She peered deep in my eyes and the weight of emotions sitting on my chest made it hard to breathe or think. “I love you, Ezekiel Donovan. You hear me. I love you. Always will.”

“I love…”

“Ahhh what the hell, Leann?”

She’d done what we all were thinking. Leann smashed the big slice she cut for him right in his face. Smeared it good. Went back and fisted more cake and smacked him with it.

“I’m sick and tired of you treating your son like he’s nothing.” Her voice cracked, chest rising and falling heavily. “I don’t care if he had sex with every elderly woman living in Century Village in exchange for their AARP benefits, that is your flesh and blood. He came from you. So what if he slings his dick for a living. He ain’t in jail, homeless, or around here begging you for shit. He’s a grown ass man capable of making his own decisions. You better be glad that I love your wife with all my heart because my children would never know you. I have no respect for you. Your wife is sick and all you can do is focus on Ezekiel when you should be concerned with spending time with your wife. Now, I’m going to help her wind down for the night. That kitchen needs to be cleaned so I suggest you get right to it.” Taking a napkin, she wiped her hands and allowed my mom to lean on her.

“Thank you, Leann.” Mom kissed her cheek and glared at my father. “And I suggest you and your cake find somewhere to sleep tonight cause it won’t be in my bed.”

It was time for me to go. My appetite had long disappeared, and being left in a room alone with my dad wasn’t a good idea. “I’m heading out. Love y’all.”