“Not anymore,” my father said. “You get your things and get the hell out.”
“Daddy, that’s not necessary,” I tried.
“This is not a house of sin and what I say goes,” my father said so harshly it came out in a whisper and I knew not to say another word. I just looked at Justin standing there alone to let him know I was feeling his hurt. “Go!”
“So, you don’t want me here?” Justin said and now he was crying, too.
“If I get up from my seat, so
help me Jesus, I will remove you from this house myself.” My father slowly backed up his seat, and I sat stunned, knowing this was more anger coming from him than any of us had known. His eyes were already red and I could see the veins bulging in his neck.
“Fine,” Justin said. “I’ll go. But I’m still a member of this family and some day you will all have to face who I am. Do you think you’re the first family to go through this? Well, you’re not. And you won’t be the last. None of this changes who I am. Don’t let it change you.”
“Justin,” I called, getting up, when he turned to leave but my father banged his fist so hard on the table this time that I flinched.
“Don’t you dare follow him,” he ordered me and at once, I realized I was in my father’s house. “No one moves.”
Justin looked at me and I looked back sympathetically. I could hear our mother crying. I was too overwhelmed with the pain at both sides of the table to choose a side to fight for. I loved my brother and he was hurting. But I also loved my father and I knew, even in his anger, he was hurting, too.
Justin walked into the house. And no one moved.
“What are we going to do, Jethro?” my mother asked. “We can’t just let the boy leave like that. He’s too upset.”
“Let him go.” Jr shrugged. Then, smiling maniacally as if nothing had happened, he reached past May and picked up a corn cob and began to chew on it. “Anybody hungry?” he asked.
“Don’t be a jerk, Jr,” I said, pushing my plate away from me.
“One less brother in this family for me to worry about,” he said. “Yeah... . That’s two girls and one boy now. Right, Dad? Or is it more?”
“Don’t say that,” I said, not understanding how Jr could be so cruel to everyone. “Daddy has nothing to do with this.”
“Hush, Jr,” my mother pleaded.
“Oh, that old man doesn’t scare me anymore,” Jr managed between bites of his corn. “If he wasn’t so busy running around out in the street with his other son, maybe this one wouldn’t be so fucking soft. You know?” Jr looked at me with ice in his eyes.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Stop it, Jr,” my mother demanded. “That’s enough.”
I looked at my father on the other end of the table and he was sitting back and staring at Jr.
“I don’t know, Journey,” Jr went on and pointed his half-eaten cob at my father. “Ask your father about his other son. About how all these years, he’s been lying to us.”
“What is he talking about, Daddy?”
“You shut your mouth,” my father said venomously.
“No, you shut your mouth,” Jr snapped, slamming down the cob. “I don’t have time for this shit anymore. I’m tired of this family’s crap.” He leaned in toward the middle of the table. “Old Jethro here has had his very own secret family right under our noses. Right at the church. Right in the pulpit.”
“Jr, stop it,” May tried now, but Jr only pulled away from her.
“It appears,” Jr went on, “that Jack Newsome isn’t a Newsome at all. He’s a Cash. The oldest of the Reverend Doctor Cash’s sons. And the next in line to the throne.” He laughed.
“Oh, Jr,” my mother said. “Why couldn’t you just shut up?”
“Jack Newsome? He’s what?” I looked at my father again for a sign of dissension.
“He’s your brother,” Jr said, and with the last word it sounded as if he’d finally felt some vindication in his exposure.