Chapter One

Sheeba Marguerite Parker wants love. She seeks it. She craves it. But there’s just one problem—she’s a PK. That’s right, a preacher’s kid.

It was Thursday evening and Daddy promised me that we would be on the road to Helsman by 12:00pm, but we weren’t. He promised me that he wouldn’t make a big fuss about me leaving in front of the congregation, but he did. I consider crying a big fuss�"humongous. And I couldn’t help but think that his sermon about fornication and sexual immorality was one of his last parting gifts to me. I say one of his last because I knew he had one more recitation request up his sleeve.

“Can we pray for you baby?” Elder Johnson’s request snapped me away from the last recitation scene I envisioned in my head.

“Of course,” I said, standing to my feet and walking into the circle that was partially formed in front of me.

After spending eighteen years of my life in church, I knew the routine. This wasn’t the first time the elders had prayed for me, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.

“Lord we thank You for Your grace and mercy,” said Elder Johnson. “We thank You because You are the Son of the most high God.”

“Yes Lord,” said, a voice from behind me.

“We thank You because You are King of Kings and Lord of Lords.”

“Amen,” said, a voice from in front of me.

“We humbly come into Your presence today Lord and ask that You cover Sheeba, her mother, and Dr. Reverend Parker as they travel to Helsman College. We ask that You keep them safe and healthy as they make their way through the highways and byways to drop off their youngest baby Sheeba.”

“Thank you Jesus,” said, a man’s voice from the right of me.

“We ask that You keep Sheeba enveloped in the eternal love, peace, and joy that only comes from You Lord. Sheeba has been trained in the way that she should go, but we ask You Lord to convict her spirit when she deviates from the path of righteousness.”

“Hallelujah,” screamed, a voice from the left side of me.

I knew by the way Elder Johnson was praying that we were going to be there a long time. I tried to stay present in the moment and focus on the words he spoke but I couldn’t. Every thought I had after a minute into the prayer was about the rented SUV parked out front�"filled with all of the new clothes, room decorations, school supplies, and knick-knacks I begged Daddy to buy me. I thought about Helsman, how it would look in person and how crazy it was that I was traveling across the country to go to a school I’d never visited. My heart began to speed up at the thought of being alone and not knowing a soul. However, before I could have a full-fledged panic attack, the elders’ voices collectively rose loudly to my ears.

“Amen,” they said in unison.

“Amen.” I opened my eyes and smiled. “Thank you all so much.”

One by one each elder hugged me and gave me a quick impartation of wisdom. A majority of it was the standard get good grades and stay out of trouble�"well that was until Elder Jones.

While looking into my eyes, he placed both of his hands on my shoulders. “Keep your head up, eyes open, and legs closed.” My eyes grew two sizes bigger, but he just chuckled. “What? I listen to a little Tupac,” he said grinning. “Only his political and socially conscious stuff of course.”

“Mmmhmmm,” I said smiling. “Only his political and socially conscious stuff, huh.” Because “Wonder Why They Call You B***h” clearly fits into those two categories, I thought to myself.

After the last elder left the pulpit, I scoured the room for Daddy�"looking for his white blazer in the crowd. I didn’t see him among the sea of talking people headed for the exits, but I knew exactly where to find him. You see, Daddy was a perfectionist. After every service, he disappeared to his office and watched a playback of his sermon on video. Our videographer was so efficient, that the tape was on Daddy’s desk, waiting for him, before the service was over.

Sometimes I wished Mommy had put her foot down and told him that watching the playback right after service was extreme and could at least wait until the next day. I didn’t understand. Why was there always more work to be done? Why couldn’t we leave when the congregation members left? I wanted us to go home and sit in front of the television screen and watch a movie or play a board game. Be a regular family for once.

“We will never be a regular family,” Daddy said, one day after hearing me spew my “regular family” diatribe to Mommy. “I didn’t become a nationally recognized preacher by being regular.”

“I’m sorry Daddy,” I said, trying to extinguish the fire I had started. “I just meant�"”

“I know what you meant. You want me to be mediocre. You want this family to be mediocre too, don’t you?”

“No sir.”

“I tell you Sharon,” Daddy said, looking at Mommy, “these kids get the mediocrity gene from you not me.”

I never brought it up again�"well not if I knew there was the slightest chance Daddy would hear me. Mommy said we had to be understanding and compassionate because Daddy had a lisp when he was younger. She said he watched the tapes to see if the lisp was coming back or if it was detectable. After every service, I heard him ask Mommy if she heard anything. Mommy always said no, but I didn’t think he truly believed her until he watched the tape for himself. Mommy didn’t seem to mind his lack of trust�"usually retiring to her office to answer church mail while he shut himself inside of his office. I, on the other hand, tried to temper my aggravation and fatigue by lying in the balcony pew humming church hymns until Daddy retrieved me at twelve or one o’clock in the morning.

However, tonight was going to be different�"it had to be.

 “Daddy you promised,” I said, opening the door to his office. Like I suspected, he was sitting behind his desk with the lights off watching a playback of his sermon. “You know delaying taking me to Helsman is not going to change the fact that I’m going,” I said, flipping the lights on.

“I know,” he said, turning around to face me. “But I was hoping prolonging it would allow you to see how crazy this is Sheeba. You’re going to a place you’ve never been.”

“That’s because you and Mommy wouldn’t let me visit.”

“Because we didn’t want you to go.”

“I know Daddy, but I didn’t get in anywhere else.”

“Which is still a shock to me because of your grades.”

“Daddy we’ve been through this so many times.”

 “You’re right so I’ll just ask you one more question. Are you sure about this?”

“I am Daddy,” I said, conveniently failing to mention the mild panic attack I had just a few minutes ago. “Now can we go please?”

Daddy looked at me�"inhaling and exhaling deeply. “Yeah, go get your mother while I finish up here.”

                       ***

If I had any doubts about my decision to go to Helsman, they all dissipated when Daddy drove down Phelps Street. The Men of Belhouse, in their suits and ties, looking like younger versions of Daddy, was the first thing I saw. My heart leapt inside my chest just thinking about my goal of falling in love. With so many prospects, how would I ever choose? As soon as we saw the boys, Daddy’s eyes started watching me in the rearview mirror. I avoided his eyes�"knowing that my eyes, dancing with excitement, would give me away.

“That’s Belhouse College Daddy,” I said, pointing straight ahead.

“It’s awfully close to Helsman isn’t it?”

“Unfortunately,” I said, feigning disgust. “But they can’t get on our campus unless they have an ID, and they have to be off campus at a certain time.”

“Oh, I know,” Daddy said, turning onto Helsman’s campus. “I talked to President Lockett last week. She assured me that the campus was secure.”

Oh she did huh, I thought to myself. My face and neck grew hot at his revelation, but I suppressed my anger. I smiled inside because his time dictating my life and checking up on me would be over soon.

“That’s wonderful,” I said smiling. “I’m glad you had a chance to talk to her. But I don’t want you to worry. I know I’m here to get an education. I won’t even be over there.”

“I know that’s not true now, but you better make it true,” Daddy said, stopping the SUV behind the procession of cars waiting to drive through the gate. “I’ll be watching, and God will be watching,” Daddy said, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

Good luck with that, I thought to myself. I’m sure God will be watching, but unless He miraculously gives you twenty-four hour video surveillance of me, you’re out of luck buddy.

“I’m serious Sheeba,” Daddy continued, letting the car inch forward. “If I find out you’ve been over there, you’re going to be on a first class flight back to Pasadena so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

“John that’s enough,” said Mommy. “Let’s not ruin this day for her.”

“It’s not enough Sharon. We just got that new endorsement deal and the church is finally growing again. We literally can’t afford to go through the same stuff we went through with Taylor. Matter of fact, looking at all these walking sperm banks makes me want to turn this car around right now.”

“Daddy please,” I said, leaning in between the driver and passenger seat until I was looking at the side of his face. “Daddy look at me.”

“What do you want Sheeba?” Daddy asked, turning his face toward me.

“Have I ever disappointed you?”

“No.”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Daddy.”

“No, you’ve never lied to me Sheeba.”

“And I’m not going to start now. I promise, at this moment, in front of you, Mommy, and God that I will never step foot on that campus. Besides I’m not going to find anyone close to Dr. Reverend John Christopher Parker anyway, so why waste my time.” I threw my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “I’ll always be your baby girl Daddy.”

“I know. I just want the best for you Sheeba.”

“I know,” I said, removing my arms from around his neck and looking at Mommy, who was crying. “Mommy don’t cry.” I said, rubbing her arm. “It’s alright.”

However, to tell the truth, it wasn’t all right. I understood that Mommy and Daddy loved me but at some point they had to let go. I was eighteen years old. And contrary to what Daddy believed, and what I lead him to believe, I was no longer his baby girl�"mainly because I was no longer a baby. The umbilical cord had been cut eighteen years ago, but Daddy didn’t seem to understand that.

“Good morning sir,” Daddy said, to the security guard standing in the booth in front of the gate. “My name is Dr. Reverend John Parker, and I’m here to move my daughter into her dorm room.”

A huge smile spread across the security guard’s face. It was the same smile everyone got when my father introduced himself, and the person on the receiving end of the introduction, registered who he was.

“I know who you are sir,” the security guard said, extending his hand. “My mother loves you. We stream your sermons on the Internet every Sunday.”

“Well I appreciate it brother,” Daddy said, shaking his hand through the open window.

“I know this may be inappropriate,” the security guard said, releasing my father’s hand, “but can I get a picture with you? My mother would kill me if she knew I met you and didn’t get a picture.”

“Of course,” Daddy said smiling. “You all don’t mind do you?” Daddy asked, turning around to look at Mommy and me.

“Of course not dear,” Mommy said smiling.

I didn’t respond. I mean who was Dad trying to fool. I hoped it was the security guard and not us because we already knew the truth�"well at least I did. Those were the moments Daddy lived for. He relished in the reverence, respect, and attention that came with being Dr. Reverend John Christopher Parker. Sometimes, I thought it was the only reason he preached. Before our church became a mega church, I knew why he wanted to preach the word of God, but now I wasn’t so sure. Everything had become about our image�"what we wore, what we did, how we talked, and how we behaved. Our image was the reason Taylor was shunned after she refused to have an abortion. That’s when perfect, smiling Sheeba was birthed. Perfect, smiling Sheeba did everything perfectly. She was always polite, nice, and of course�"smiling! Unfortunately, she was always on call, and after all of those years, I was sick of it.

After taking pictures with the security guard, and some of the parents waiting in line behind us, Daddy climbed back into the driver’s seat.

“So what dorm are you looking for?” the security guard asked, pushing the button to open the gate.

“Herman Howard.”

“Oh that’s HH. You’re going to drive through the gate and take the first right. It’s going to be the first building on your left.”

Dad shifted the gear into drive. “Thank you sir. And tell your mother I said hello.”

“Will do.”

Daddy gently pushed the gas pedal and drove through the gate slowly. As the gate closed behind us, I smiled�"lifting up my shirt to cut the invisible umbilical cord and silently saying goodbye to perfect, smiling Sheeba. She was officially on hiatus�"not to be seen or heard from at least until fall break.

When Daddy turned the corner and pulled in front of HH, the RAs were already outside waiting to greet us. The two-story building that I would call home for the next year looked old and small.

“Is this the dorm?” Daddy asked, when he saw it. “This can’t be it.”

“This is it. Look at the sign,” I said, flinging my door open and jumping out of the back seat. “Oh I’m sorry,” I said, to the girl dodging my door. “I promise I was not trying to hit you.”

“It’s okay,” the young girl said smiling. “My name is Melanie. I’m one of the RAs for HH. What’s your name?”

“Sheeba Parker,” I said, reaching my hand toward hers. “It’s so wonderful to meet you.”

While shaking her hand, I wanted to slap myself. You are no longer perfect, smiling Sheeba. Stop it!

“I don’t know why I asked for your name. I know who you are. We’ve been waiting for you. Wow, you’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“You look just like your pictures!”

Great, there goes my anonymity. “Wonderful!” I said, feigning a smile.

 “Are you ready to check in?”

I nodded my head�"not knowing exactly what she meant. “Sure.”

“When you get inside, just go to the registration table. They’re going to ask for your name, give you some paperwork to fill out, and give you the keys to your room.”

“Okay, great.” Mommy and Daddy climbed out of the car�"still immersed in their private conversation. “I’m going to check in,” I said, looking at both of them.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” asked Mommy.

“No, I’ll be okay.”

I turned around and took a few steps toward the building before feeling a hand on my arm. “Sheeba.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Melanie standing behind me. “Did you need to tell me something else?” I asked, turning around to face her.

“No, I just really want to meet your dad,” she said whispering. “Do you think he’ll mind?”

“Of course not. He would love to meet you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Melanie turned away from me and took one step toward Mommy and Daddy.

“Pssssst. Melanie,” I whispered. “Make sure you ask for a picture. He loves taking pictures.”

“Really,” she said smiling.

“Oh yeah.”

I watched Melanie slink over to Mommy and Daddy, introduce herself, and pull out her cellphone before walking into the building. Like I suspected, the building was old�"probably built in 1817 when the college was founded. The once white floors were worn and dingy�"no amount of washing or bleaching would ever get them back to their original color. The blue walls were covered in flyers looked like they hadn’t seen a fresh coat of paint in years. And the humidity I’d hope to escape followed me inside.

“Are you going to turn on the air conditioner?” a girl in front of me asked one of the RAs sitting at the registration table.

“Oh no,” the RA said smiling. “This is a freshman dorm. There are no air conditioners.”

“No air conditioners,” the girl repeated, with tears in her eyes.

“Yeah, it’s tradition.”

“Tradition,” the girl said, storming pass me�"no doubt going to share the news with her parents.

Unlike the young girl, I decided not to tell Mommy and Daddy about Helsman’s tradition of facilitating heat strokes. Besides, Daddy didn’t need any more ammunition to take me back to Pasadena�"especially since the car was still packed. Therefore, I quickly filled out the necessary paperwork and made my way back outside where Mommy and Daddy had loaded the first round of my things onto the trolley cart.

“You got your keys?” asked Mommy.

“Yep.”

“How did everything look inside?”

“It looked good,” I said smiling, anticipating Daddy’s reaction to the lack of air conditioning, and from what I could see, elevators as well. Everyone I saw moving in was using the stairs, and I knew it wasn’t by choice.

“Okay, let’s go.” Daddy pushed the trolley cart up the ramp and into the threshold of the building before stopping. “Why is it as hot in here as it is outside?” he asked, looking at me and then at Mommy.

I opened my mouth to tell him, but before I could get the words out, he stopped a young girl walking pass us with the letters “RA” emblazoned on the front of her t-shirt.

“Excuse me young lady, is the air conditioner on in here? I’m about to have a heat stroke.”

“I’m sorry sir,” she said smiling. “Because this is a freshman dorm there is no air conditioning.”

“Since when does being a freshman have anything to do with air conditioning?”

“It’s tradition,” she said.

“Tradition,” Daddy repeated, no doubt surprised by her answer. “Thank you.”

Daddy waited until the girl was outside of the building before he turned to look at me. “Sheeba go in the car and get my cell phone. I’m calling President Lockett.”

“Why,” I shrieked.

“Because I just wrote a fifty thousand dollar tuition check and donated another five thousand dollars. There is no way you’re staying here without any air conditioning. End of discussion, go get my phone.”

“No, Daddy just�"”

“No. I see the humidity is already getting to you. Did you just tell me no?”

“No, I mean yes. Daddy listen. I have to make friends with these girls. I don’t want to come across as if I’m better than them. Like it’s okay for them to live here without air conditioning, but it’s not okay for me.”

“It’s not okay for you, and you are better than them. I work hard so you can be.”

“Daddy I’m just saying that I want to be like everybody else. I don’t want to be different or better here. I just want to fit in.”

“Honey,” Mommy said, caressing Daddy’s shoulder. “Just let her try it out. We can buy her a couple of box fans before we leave.”

“Fine. The temperature is set to Hell in here, but if you want to try it out, okay. But just remember that this is your doing. Don’t call me complaining.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Alright, so where are the elevators?”

“That’s the other thing,” I said, looking at him. “They don’t have any.”

Daddy tilted his head backward, closed his eyes, and inhaled and exhaled slowly.

“Just pray Daddy,” I said laughing.

Daddy opened his eyes and looked at me. “Oh no, you don’t want me to pray, because if it gets to that point, you’ll be going back to Pasadena with your mother and me.”

“I was just joking Daddy.”

“Don’t joke with me. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

Daddy was angry. I was skating on thin ice, and I knew it. If one more thing happened, I would be on the road back to Pasadena. Daddy’s threats were never idle. If he became angry enough, I knew he would do it.

“God please help me,” I said, underneath my breath, leading the way up the stairs to the second floor. “201 is this way,” I called out to Mommy and Daddy walking out of the stairwell, both of them holding opposite sides of the trolley cart.

“Girl,” Mommy said, out of breath with sweat glistening on the tip of her nose. “You better be glad I love you.”

“Everyday,” I yelled, running down the hallway to the first door at the end of the hall. This is it, I thought, looking at the three numbers etched into the door.

I reached for the keys in my pocket, but stopped, when I realized the door was already open. Sunlight was bursting through the sides. I pushed it away from me and walked into the room. A girl jumping on the bed with headphones on turned and looked at me.

“Oh rand,” she said, pulling the headphones down around her neck and jumping off the bed. “You must be my roommate. My name is Belle. Well, my government name is Annabelle, but do I look like a girl from the eighteenth century to you?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“My grandmother says it means lovable, but I don’t think it fits for a variety of reasons I won’t bore you with just yet. What’s your name?”

“Sheeba.”

“Rawrrr,” she growled. “Me likey.”

Although I had just met Belle, I knew she was completely off her rocker. A good kind of crazy. She seemed like the friend I’d always wanted to have�"eclectic looking, gothic, bold, wild, independent, and free. Not someone selected and approved by my parents to hang out with me.

“So what’s the 411 on your parents?”

“The 411?” I asked confused.

“Yeah, the information, low down, scoop, steelo.”

“Oh, well my dad is a preacher, and my mother is a lawyer. She doesn’t practice too much anymore, just some pro bono work on the side.”

“Crap, you’re a PK?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Well this is not going to work,” she said, pointing to her baggy, black, chained jeans, ripped halter-top, and combat boots.

“What’s their position?” she asked, pulling her halter-top over her head.

I turned around embarrassed. “Their position.”

“Yeah, like where are they?”

“Their coming down the hall.”

“F**k!”

I could hear drawers being opened and closed behind me. And the combat boots that were once on her feet were thrown across the room. What is she doing? I thought to myself.

“You can turn around now.”

“Are you decent? Because although I have b***s, I really don’t want to see yours again.”

“Yeah, I’m decent,” she said laughing.

I turned around and saw her, standing in front of the mirror hanging on the inside of her closet door, removing the black lipstick with a wet wipe.

“Whoa, you look�"”

“Just like you.”

“Exactly. We could be twins. Why did you change your clothes?”

“Because we’re cut from the same cloth Sheeba,” she said, adjusting her pink cardigan with rhinestone buttons.

“What, you’re a PK too?”

“Sorta. Well…no not really.”

“Sheeba,” Mommy called from the hallway.

“It’s show time,” Belle said, walking toward the door.

“I’m in here,” I yelled out to Mommy.

Mommy and Daddy walked into the room with the trolley cart, and the Belle I initially encountered disappeared. Fresh faced with no signs of heavy eyeliner, black lipstick, or crazy hair, she introduced herself to my parents like a girl from the eighteenth century.

“You must be Sheeba’s parents. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

Daddy and Mommy smiled from ear to ear�"taking turns shaking her hand. She put them at ease with her pleasing address, demur demeanor, and soft, delicate voice. Her charade would have alarmed me if I hadn’t spent the last few years of my life playing the role of perfect, smiling Sheeba.

“I’m Sheeba’s mother, Mrs. Parker.”

“And I’m her father, Dr. Reverend John Parker.”

“It’s nice to meet both of you.”

If Belle knew who my father was, she didn’t lead on. I looked at his face�"anticipating the acknowledgement and accompanied praise and awe. However, it never came. I could tell that it bruised his ego�"no doubt causing him to conclude that he wasn’t working hard enough if she didn’t know that he was one of the most famous preachers in the world.

“Do you want me to help you unpack?” Belle asked me after a few seconds of awkward silence.

“Sure.”

“Well, perfect,” Dad said, reaching in his pocket for his keys. “You ladies stay here. I’m going to buy the box fans and finish unpacking the car.”

As soon as Daddy left the room, Mommy, Belle, and I had what Mommy called good ole fashion girl talk. Mommy briefly played inspector gadget�"asking Belle where she was from, what her parents did, and what brought her to Helsman.

She rattled of the answers as quickly as Mommy asked the questions. “The south, their retired, and because it’s one of the best all-girls schools in the country.”

Sensing she was uncomfortable, I quickly changed the subject. “Mommy, don’t Belle and I look like twins?”

“Definitely, I thought the same thing when I saw you both standing side by side. But it goes further than the clothes,” Mommy said, looking at Belle then back at me. “You all kind of look alike.”

“Well, if we do look like twins, I’m the better looking one,” Belle quipped, her mood lightning.

I watched Belle closely as her and Mommy assembled and stacked my storage containers and discussed the pallet and texture of her cardigan with more excitement and enthusiasm I would ever have regarding the subject. I couldn’t tell if the conversation was authentic or if Belle was still in character. However, one thing I did know was that she was withholding something�"especially when Mommy and Daddy said their final goodbyes.

“Alright Sheeba,” Daddy said, releasing me from his arms.

“Are you serious Dad?”

“What?” Belle asked confused.

“Well, my wonderful father here makes me recite Hebrews 13:4 and 1Corinthians 6:9 anytime I’m going to be out of his sight for an extended period of time.”

“Oh you mean, marriage is honourable in all, and the bed undefiled: but whoremongers and adulterers God will judge.”

“And,” Dad said, looking at Belle amazed.

“And know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God. Be not deceived: neither fornicators nor idolaters; nor adulterers, not effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind.”

“See Sheeba, that’s how it’s done,” Daddy said.

 I smiled at him then at Belle. “Indeed.”