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“Crafty ass.”
She ignores my dry wit. “There are six of them?”
“Not by choice.”
“Your daughter knows them?”
“She knowsofthem.”
“Maybe it’s good to let her meet them. It will help her know your background—where her father comes from, what makes you, you, Phoenix. It will give her a deeper background of your father, and what makes you tick.”
“I don’t care.”
“I think you do. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Quite frankly, I don’t even knowhowI ended up here—”
She cuts me off. “Let’s get to your story. How about we start with your relationship with Tamryn and your journey together? We can talk about your daughter’s birth and go from there.” When I look at her with hesitation, the doctor presses forward. “I’m just trying to help get you to your resurrection,” she says softly.
“I never said I want—”
“You are a phoenix; it is what youneed. Now, instead, let’s start from the beginning, shall we?”
Chapter 2
Phoenix age 14
“Abroken spirit and a contrite heart, they will not despise, they will not despise; You desire truth in the inward part, a broken spirit in a contrite heart.”
I listen to my mom sing as she stands in the kitchen, washing the dishes, making dinner or both. I’ve heard her sing this song more than a few times when I was growing up, but i notice she has been humming it to herself a lot lately.
“Hey, Ma,” I say coming in from school and kissing her cheek.
She smiles at me. “Hi, honey. Go wash up for dinner, it will be ready soon.” She turns back to the dishes and continues singing.
“What does that song mean, Mom?”
She pauses, stirring the sauce simmering on the stove, and thinks about my question before she answers. “It means, sometimes we need to let go of ourselves, what we want, what we think, to seek after God in all his truth, and good things will be added after. But we have to have a repentant heart before we seek—”
“Phoenix! Stop singing that damn song! I’m tired of hearing it. Drop it, okay!”
We both look at the man sitting across the room from us, who appeared not to pay much attention before because he was on his phone, talking to somebody; whatever he was saying did not sound good. In fact, it sounded pure evil, like he was making plans. I didn’t even realize I was singing it with her, but maybe that is why Mom kept singing—to ward off that evil.
My mother waited until my father went back to his conversation, taking his attention off of us, before she lowered her voice. “Phoenix, whatever happens, I need you to promise me you will remember these things that I say. I love you. God loves you, you are a child of God, and we will bring you back from whatever temptations, curses, or whatever happens after your eighteenth birthday, I swear Son.”
“Mom, what does that even mean? You are scaring me.”
My mother glances at my father to make sure he’s otherwise distracted before she drops her voice again. “I am not trying to scare you. I'm trying to prepare you for what is going to happen. There will be some things you don't understand, but we know all things work together for good for those who love God and are called according to his purpose—all things will be explained. I will see you again, Phoenix, I will.”
“Mom, don't leave me, you’re fading, I can't see you; where are you going?”
“Keep a broken spirit and a contrite heart, Son.”
“Who are you talking to?”
I shake my head. I’m standing alone in a cold kitchen with no love or warmth.
I turn and look up at my father, who stomps toward me, his phone conversation now finished. He sees me talking to nothing but shadows. My mother has disappeared into those shadows.
