“The Passion of Sean Gillain” Full-Length Chapter Preview
FLASHBACK (United We Stand, Divided We Fall)…
One would think and hope that the drama regarding my father’s intense confrontation with me and my grandparents’ boycott against any events centering around Jessica and/or Ra’Keem would remain behind closed doors.
Unfortunately, you’d be wrong.
Because in Adams Falls- in Twiggs County where people knew one another, to be exact…gossip tends to run like a raging river. And it wasn’t long before the community had their opinions regarding the boycott against Horace and Maeve as well as two of their star children.
Some of them were supportive for me. “Your mama and papa knew what they were doing when they placed you in your grandparents’ care when you were a baby, Sean,” Deacon Eldridge said to me after Sunday school (the day after Grandpa Emmett and I went fishing instead of attending one of Ra’Keem’s athletic workshops). “And I’m not too surprised on how your family acts all self-righteous with their riches and status. Like the Good Book says, boy, so say I: pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall. You keep your mind on the farm and your schooling. God has a plan for you.”
“I really never liked your sister’s fashion line nor her reality-show appearances on TV,” Mrs. Candler, my tenth-grade literature teacher, remarked when she learned that I didn’t watch Jessica on TV on one occasion. “She’s too flashy and arrogant for her own good. Her twin brother’s no better. My daughter went to UGA with him and she heard some things that I shouldn’t tell you. You’re doing good for standing your ground, Sean. Keep your head clear and your feet on the ground, and you can’t go wrong.”
Then you have the ones who…well, they mean well. But they prefer status over sensibility. “Your brother Ra’Keem’s going places, boy,” Coach Waddell said to me at lunch, him being surprised to know that I never preferred college or professional football. “He’s leading the Falcons to a strong season, and he’s making a difference in middle Georgia. You may not like him or anything, but he wants to reach out to you. Put aside those differences and pettiness for once. You’d be surprised on what you can experience when you let winners like him lead you to the right path.”
“Sean, it’s unhealthy for you to spend too much time with your grandparents,” Ms. Taylor (the school counselor) said when she learned that I wasn’t bonding with my parents as I should. “I know that you have your strong opinions about your parents and how they expect so much from you with wanting you to be outgoing and all. And it’s normal because you should have a life of your own outside the farm. Try calling them up sometime and let them arrange a day with you. No matter what, Sean, your parents want what’s best for you.”
Please! If Horace and Maeve Gillain really wanted what’s best for me, they would’ve have supported my dreams for helping out at ValleyStone Farms and the general store.
And as for my parents, Ra’Keem, and Jessica themselves? The invites and carrot-and-stick routines kept coming, yet my grandparents and I stood our ground.
Jessica wanting me to join her and her party-centric friends for a summer in Tybee Island with paid expenses? I was already planning activities for the church’s Vacation Bible School.
Ra’Keem wanted me to join him and Dad in New York for a guys-only weekend for the MLB All-Star Game? Grandpa and I were talking about plans for expanding the land to include cotton crops and we sat down for an interview for GPB.
The guilt-trips (“Come on, Sean. This really has to stop. You owe us this to bond with us.”), not-so-subtle jibes (“You really don’t care about this family, don’t you?”), and emotional blackmail (“Think about Jamal and Monica. They might think you resent them by snubbing all of us.”) never stopped and yet I wasn’t going to kowtow until Mom and Dad started seeing me as an equal.
“Sean, you know that you’re being unfair right now,” Mom said over the phone after refusing to join her and Jessica for dinner in favor of attending a nearby church’s choir anniversary. “Really, do you really think that you can achieve something out of this boycott? Your grandparents have brainwashed you into accepting the hillbilly life when you have so much to offer.”
“Mom, you’re the one who turned your back on Grandma and Grandpa because you weren’t satisfied with your background as if you were ashamed of them,” I replied. “No wonder that Uncle Jace and his family hate you because you think that you’re too good for anyone who didn’t share your vision.”
“That’s different because I knew I was meant for more. I never liked living in Adams Falls, and I don’t like it now. You, on the other hand, have this chip on your shoulder because we prefer your younger and older siblings over you.”
And there it was, the truth as clear as day. “You really think that?”
A pause. Then, “As much as I hate to admit it, it’s the truth. Sean, in life there are three kinds of kids: the ones who are naturally gifted and are willing to show it, the ones who have to work twice as hard in order to be taken seriously, and the ones who just don’t fit the ideal no matter how hard they try. And sadly, you fit the third category. But it’s up to you whether to be tied down to rocks and sink to the deep where you’ll drown or ride the coattails on the ones who want you to come out on top.”
“And your point?”
“End this boycott and start showing up to Ra’Keem and Jessica’s events and gatherings,” Mom answered plainly. “Next school year, you transfer to Southwest or Westside where your father and I can keep a closer eye on you and train you to be a winner. Come on, Sean. Don’t you think that you owe this family some loyalty, or are you really too good for the parents who brought you to this world?”
I inhaled deeply. “If being a hillbilly means being too good for living life in the fast lane, then so be it. And for the record, you and Dad may have brought me into this world but it was Grandma and Grandpa who have raised me to be practical and even-minded,” I replied. And before Mom could even reply, I ended the call.
I turned to my grandparents who heard the whole conversation. “You guys,” I began.
“No need to say another word, Sean,” Grandpa cut me off. “The boycott still stands as long as you say so.”
I nodded. “United we stand, divided we fall.”
“Amen,” Grandma echoed before the three of us hugged, the sounds of country living humming in the summer evening.
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