Flawbulous

“I don’t need you to be my pastor right now! I want you
to be my husband.”

Lawson, Reginell, Angel, and Kina watched with concern as Sullivan moped around her formal dining room in her nightgown, her hair disheveled, clutching a glass of wine, the day following Christian’s graveside memorial and her release from the hospital.

“Sullivan, you have to eat something,” insisted Angel. “This isn’t healthy.”

Sullivan didn’t heed the warning. She opened the wine cabinet and snatched down a bottle of Riesling. “How many times do I have to tell you people that I’m not hungry?”

“I see you’ve been quite thirsty,” Lawson noted. “That bottle is almost empty.”

Sullivan fumed. “What do you want me to say, Lawson, huh? I just buried my child. It should be understandable that I’d be a little sad and want to numb the pain.”

Angel draped her arm around Sullivan. “We know you’re having a rough time, but you don’t want to go down this road again, Sully. Your drinking didn’t solve anything before. It just made everything worse. Look at what abusing painkillers cost me. It’s not worth it.”

Sullivan clenched her teeth and released a deep sigh.

“I’m not you, and this isn’t like before. I’m in control now.”

Lawson looked down into the empty glass. “Are you really?”

Sullivan cut her eyes toward Lawson and refilled her glass.

“Sullivan, maybe this was for the best, you know?” suggested Angel. “Chances are that Christian would’ve had a lot of lifelong complications and developmental delays.”

Sullivan slammed the glass down on the dining room table. “Do you think I would’ve hesitated to spend every day of my life taking care of him? It would’ve been my honor to do that. He’s my child, my miracle baby.”

Angel attempted to calm her. “I know you wouldn’t have, but perhaps God didn’t—”

Sullivan cut her off. “Angel, don’t tell me about God right now. I swear, I don’t want to hear one more thing about God and how this is His will or how we shouldn’t question Him. I can’t hear that right now.”

Lawson interceded. “The Bible says, ‘Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.’ God is here to comfort you, Sully, if you let Him.”

“Yeah?” Sullivan lifted up her wine bottle. “Well, so is this!”

“Sullivan, I know it’s difficult, but drinking isn’t the solution. Your son is gone, but you still have a daughter and a husband who need you,” Kina said, lecturing her.

“How is Charles holding up?” asked Reginell.

Sullivan shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

Lawson was dismayed. “You guess? What do you mean? Haven’t you asked him how he’s coping with losing his son?”

“You know Charles, Lawson.” Sullivan rolled her eyes. “He lets the Lord handle everything.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure he needs his wife too. Sullivan, you’re not the only one who lost a child here. Your husband needs the same love and support that you do,” cautioned Lawson.

Sullivan disagreed. “Charles doesn’t need me.”

“How can you say that? He adores you!” insisted Reginell.

“Really? So it was adoration that told him to ignore my wishes and kill my baby?”

“Sully, you know that’s not fair! You can’t blame Charles for what happened,” said Angel.

“Why not?” Sullivan fired back. “Charles was the one who insisted I drive across town to meet him, despite the fact that I told him I wasn’t feeling up to it.”

“He was trying to surprise you!” exclaimed Kina.

“Charles also knows I hate surprises. He made the decision to have the doctors take the baby, even though he knew keeping him in the womb even a few days longer could mean the difference between life and death.”

“Yes, it could, for Christian and for you! You can’t seriously fault the man for loving you so much that he refused to risk your life, even to the point of risking his own son’s life to save yours. You should be thanking him for loving you that much,” maintained Lawson.

“I don’t need you telling me how to treat my husband, and I don’t need any of you to tell me how I should grieve the loss of my child. I lost that baby, not you! I carried that child. I painted his nursery. I picked out baby names. I felt him kick. I sang to him. I had dreams for him and for our family, and I was the one who lost him. All those dreams and that nursery and that life I was planning were shot to hell in an instant by my own husband making a split-second decision, so don’t you dare stand there and tell me how I should feel, how I should grieve, or what I should do!” Sullivan emptied the bottle of wine into her glass and tossed it back.

Angel shook her head. “It breaks my heart to see you in so much pain.”

Sullivan released a deep sigh. “Angel, you can’t begin to imagine what kind of pain I’m in and what this feels like.” She looked up, fighting back tears. “You’d think I’d be used to losing people by now. My father walked out on me, not once, but twice. Seven months after I found my grandmother, I lost her to a heart attack. For all practical purposes, I lost my mother when my baby sister died. My God, when is enough enough?”

Angel, Lawson, and Kina rallied around Sullivan in a group hug.

“Sully, you’re going to get through this,” Angel promised her. “And you don’t have to do it alone.”

Lawson began praying. “Lord, we come standing in intercession for our sister Sullivan. Lord, only you know the depths of her pain and how heavily it weighs on her heart, but we know that you strengthen us and uphold us with your righteous hand, because your Word says so. We know that we can cast our cares unto you, because you care so deeply for us.

“Lord, be a comforter to Sullivan, Charles, and Charity right now, during their hour of need. Let them be revived by your Word. Help them to remember that Christian’s body is gone, but his spirit will live forever and they will see him again. Remind them that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us when we get to heaven.

“We thank you for being our refuge in a time of sorrow. We thank you for Christian and for the joy he brought to the people who loved him. We thank you for your wisdom in all things, including the things that we don’t understand. We honor and praise you forever. Amen.”

The circle broke up. Angel hovered over Sullivan. “Do you feel better now?”

“I appreciate everything you all are trying to do for me, really.” Sullivan paused. “But nothing is going to fill this void in my heart, nothing except having my son back, and that’s never going to happen.”

“No, but you will be happy again,” reasserted Angel. “Who’s to say God won’t bless you and Charles with another baby?”

Sullivan shook her head. “I don’t think that’s in the cards for us. Christian was more of a miracle baby than Charity was. At least she was conceived naturally. We had to resort to in vitro for Christian. I don’t think either one of us wants to go through that again.”

Reginell scooped up her purse. “Maybe we should get out of here and leave Sullivan to deal with this in her own way. Besides, I’m not feeling so good.”

“Are you in pain again?” asked Kina. “The medication still isn’t helping?”

Reginell shook her head. “Not really.”

“Reggie, you really need to go get that checked out,” Angel advised her.

“I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. Mark insisted on it.”

“Good!” replied Lawson. “I’m glad somebody has been able to get through that thick skull of yours.”

“Are you going to be okay here by yourself?” Kina asked Sullivan.

“I told you I’m fine. Time alone to think and to process everything is exactly what I need right now.”

Lawson slid into her jacket. “I think being alone is the last thing you need, but I know when I’m not wanted, so . . .”

Angel hugged and kissed Sullivan on the cheek. “You call me if you need anything, all right? I don’t care what time. If you need to talk or cry or you want someone to come sit with you, you call me, you hear?”

Sullivan smiled weakly and nodded.

Kina squeezed Sullivan’s hand. “The same goes for me, Sully. Let me know if I can do anything.”

“Actually, you can, Kina. Do you have Desdemona’s number? She gave it to me at the hospital, and I must’ve put it down somewhere. I’d like to give her a call.”

“Sure.” Kina reached into her purse for a pen and paper and scribbled Desdemona’s contact information for Sullivan.

“Thanks.” Sullivan tucked the number down into her pocket. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I think I’m going to lie down for a few minutes and try to get some rest.”

“You take care of yourself, Sullivan,” said Lawson. “Take care of Charles and Charity too.”

“Did I hear my name?” asked Charles, entering the room with Charity in his arms.

Angel hugged him. “How are you holding up?”

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God,” said Charles, reciting scripture.

“Amen to that,” said Kina.

Sullivan rolled her eyes and lifted Charity out of her father’s arms. “I’ll take her. I want to spend a little time with my favorite girl before she goes down for her nap.”

“And that’s our cue,” noted Lawson. “We’re going to get out of here. Please know that we’re praying for all of you, and you can call day or night if you need anything.”

The ladies filed out, leaving Sullivan alone with Charles.

“That was nice of them to stop by,” said Charles. “I’m sure having them here put a smile back on that beautiful face.”

“Why would it?” Sullivan snapped. “Do you think having a few girlfriends over would erase the fact that I just buried my child?”

“No. I was hoping that it would take your mind off of it for a little while.”

“Well, it didn’t, okay? Nothing will.”

Charles spied Sullivan’s empty wine bottle. “Except that, maybe?”

Sullivan held her daughter close to her chest. “It’s how I cope with things, all right? You deal with things your way, and I’ll deal with them my way.”

“Our way should be the Lord’s way, Sulllivan. No good can come of you drinking again.”

“Can some good come of me losing my son?”

“Yes, if you let it, if you open your heart to see what the Lord wants us to learn from this or how our loss could help somebody else going through this same struggle.”

“Can you stop for five minutes?” shrieked Sullivan.

Charles was confused. “Stop what?”

“Being on the pulpit and talking to me like you’re Pastor Webb! Charles, I don’t need you to be my pastor right now! I want you to be my husband. I want you to understand what I, your wife, am going through.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, sweetheart.”

“No, Charles, you want me to pretend for you! You want me to act like all I have to do is throw up a few prayers, shed a few tears at a graveside funeral, have a few laughs with the girls, and everything will be all right. Well, Pastor, everything is not all right!” Sullivan thought before going on. “And I can’t tell you when it will be or if it ever will.”