Chapter 8
Ezekiel
I remember the day Bishop tried to warn Celeste about Isaiah, I was only nine years old.
Back then, Saint Mercy felt much bigger than it does to me now.
The hallways felt longer way longer, and the shadows felt much more darker.
One of the biggest mistakes that many adults made, especially the ones in my life, was that children didn't listen, but they were gravely wrong.
As I snuck through the church one late afternoon, I heard voices coming from one of the secret rooms that are hidden behind the old choir storage area.
Not a lot of people knew those rooms existed and it was assumed I was one of those people, but that wasn’t true.
I wasn't like most people. My curiosity always set me apart from the rest and as my parents would always say, me being curious was one of my worst habits.
And being curious caused me to get my ass beat many a times before I knew how to do it without getting caught.
I pressed my ear against the door so hard my temples started hurting. I was listening and trying to figure out what the things I, as a child, should’ve never been listening to meant.
"You're almost out of damn time, Celeste. Nah, I don’ gave you more time than I should’ve as is. I ain’t got much more time left to give ya."
Even as a child I could recognized my uncle, Bishop Dubois’ voice.
In the sanctuary, he sounded more controlled, but behind closed doors he always sounded cold as ice.
I heard footsteps nearing the door, that caused me to run and tuck myself in one of the crevices in the wall a little ways down the hallway.
I heard the door open, and the voices got a little louder.
Slowly I poked my head out and I saw Celeste Sinclair standing just outside the door, her arms folded across her chest.
She didn’t look upset, or scared, she looked nervous…very nervous.
“Ion know what to tell you Bishop.”
"Well, he’s not letting up. He’s doing way too damn much," Bishop rebutted.
"There’s nothing wrong with what he’s doing.”
“Like fucking hell it ain’t!” Bishop’s voice sounded like the roar of a lion to my young ears.
I quickly tucked my head back as my stomach turned in knots.
Bishop wasn’t the person you wanted to piss off and from the sounds of it, he sounded pretty pissed off at Celeste and Isaiah to me.
I had no clue what they were talking about but whatever it was, it was serious and maybe it wasn’t to Celeste, but it was to Bishop.
And what it was, I knew just from how I was feeling that it wasn’t something that I, nor anyone else, were supposed to know.
"All Isaiah found is some of the Whitmore files. And from what I saw, there was really nothing even there."
Even at the young age of nine, I knew the words Whitmore files, mattered a great deal.
Even though I really didn’t know what the Whitmore files contained exactly, whatever they were, it had to be very important to our family.
At the mention of the Whitmore files, I peeked my head around the corner again.
"Yo ass better destroy them, Celeste. You hear me!”
“Well, I can’t do that Bishop.”
“Well, Ion give a damn if you do it or he does it, but it better get done! And I mean that motherfucking shit."
"He doesn’t even know I know he has them."
"Do it look like a give a fuck about what he knows! I know you better figure something the fuck out." Bishop stepped out of the room and walked up to her. "Cause if his ass keeps digging, he's gonna regret it. And if he utters a word of what he finds that’s his ass."
Celeste's face went pale as she backed up from Bishop. “What’s that supposed to mean?"
"It means your husband is going to force my hand. He has no damn idea, the pandora’s box he’s playing with. The information in those files I WILL NOT let get out. Do you fucking understand?! I feel like the nigga trying me because of us."
The look on Celeste's face showed that she understood, and she understood whatever he meant very clearly.
For the first time ever, she now looked scared…
better yet, she looked more than scared, I saw real terror in her eyes.
I was standing next to the storage room where they stored the candles and sage blocks.
When I heard footsteps heading in my direction, I turned the handle on the door and thankfully it opened.
Just as I stepped inside, I kept the door cracked and as I peeked out Celeste walked past the room, with Bishop following closely behind her.
Thankfully neither one of them looked in my direction nor noticed me. To this day, I never forgot the look on her face. Even now, over twenty-three years later, I still remember that look of pure fear.
My phone vibrating on my desk made a loud noise that interrupted my childhood memory. Looking down I shook my head when I saw that it was my mom calling.
"Ma’am." I answered, as I heard her let out a heavy sigh.
"Lord have mercy, Ezekiel."
"What now?"
"Oh, you know exactly why I'm calling, son."
"Let me guess…August sent you."
"You’ve always been much smarter than most people I know." My mom smirked.
Of course, my father told her about our conversation.
That was one of the guarantees that came along with him.
Whatever went on he always pillow talked with my mother.
He trusted her to a fault, and to me that was one of the signs of weakness he had.
I didn’t trust anyone but the dead with my emotions.
Being weak wasn’t in me and he was the main reason why.
As I looked out of my office window, I noticed that storms clouds were gathering in the distance, yet it still looked bright and sunny outside.
"You know he was going to tell me bout y’all getting into it, right.”
"He got into it with his damn self. It was just a conversation to me."
Delphine laughed. "A conversation, son?” my mom chuckled, “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Play with me like that!"
My mother was the only person in the world that was capable of coming at me like I was still a child. She was also the only person that I’d let get away with it.
"He was the one that got all upset. All out of order." I rebutted as I locked my office door, then headed out of the church.
"Really Ezekiel.”
"He started it, ma."
“He’s stressed and worried.”
“That’s personal.”
“Now, watch yourself, son. Thirty-two years old or not, he’s still your father. You know how he can get.”
“Right. And I’m not a kid anymore. He can try it if he want too.
Childhood was taken long ago because of him and this family’s secrets.
I have a right to feel how I feel and disrespectfully can’t nobody say or do shit to me about it.
” I rebutted as I headed toward the front gate of the cemetery.
All I saw were rows on top of rows of weathered headstones, ancient live oak trees with Spanish moss hanging low and thick, and blankets of history.
“First off, you ain’t the only one holding this family together… You know how your father gets when he’s worried.” Her voice, now much softer than it was when I first answered.
But that didn’t surprise me. Anytime I mentioned my childhood, or there lack of, she always backed down and with good reason.
“I can’t do shit bout him worrying. All August Dubois does it worry.”
"Well, I’m witchu when you’re right, son."
“And you choose to let that be your problem, ma. The difference between you and I, he don’t control what I do with the information I know…Only I can do that. The nigga could never have control over me again."
There was a pause that I wasn’t surprised by because the last thing she wanted was to get into it with me about our family’s past. They both were guilty of putting way too much on me as a child.
She sat back and allowed for a lot of shit to go down without doing a damn thing about it when she had more than enough power to do something…
even til this day she holds more power than August, she didn’t know it or was too afraid to show it.
I smiled as I walked between two rows of graves, periodically glancing down at the ones I prepared for their burials. More interested in remembering their buried secrets than hearing about my father worrying.
"First off, that’s not fair to say. You were too wise beyond your years as a child.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Some of this you walked right into. Had you stayed in a child’s place, you wouldn’t have had the burden of carrying around so much.”
“That’s your story.” I rebutted smirking.
“He’s just afraid she’s going to find something." She responded and I didn’t have to ask because I knew she was talking about Noa.
“No question bout it. She’s not stopping til she does just that.
” I said as I looked out toward the far edge of the cemetery.
It was the oldest section on the grounds and the place that I was headed to.
“She’s making connections. She just might connect with someone who will lead her right to what she needs to know. ”
There was a long pause before she asked, "Did Isaiah find the truth?"
Her question caused me to stop briefly because she really wasn’t asking me a question, she was rhetorically giving me a warning. My mother knew the answer to that question just as everyone else knew.
“I can hear it in your voice…I know you better than you think, son. It’s heavy on your mind too cause I know you’re not insinuating that you’re going to tell her anything…right? You know way better than that. We might just loose it all if you do.”
“I’m not the person you need to be worried about. I’ve never been the weakest link.”
“You’ve also been obsessed with all things surrounding it, including her.” She included and she wasn’t wrong about that but again, that wasn’t by choice.
I let what she said sink in. Of course, I was obsessed with what happened to Isaiah and why Celeste left town. Kid or not, I saw firsthand why she left and I personally didn’t think any of them deserved what happened.