Dominion

by Randy Alcorn

  He glanced down the side streets at broken-down houses and lawns the size of pocket handkerchiefs. There on his right stood the rotting carcass of Zolar’s shopping center, one of the last old-time mid-sized stores. Abandoned for at least fifteen years, the building still advertised bargains on faded colorless signs in the window.

  “Thirty-nine cents a pound?” Jake asked. “Wonder what that was.”

  The numbers on the sun-bleached yellow tagboard were barely visible, the name of the product having long ago disappeared. Petroglyphs on glass, the remains of a civilization that once prospered, but now lay in ruins.

  Clarence turned right on Jackson Street. About every fourth house was well kept, with flower gardens looking to Clarence like oases in the desert. But most of the houses on this street had sagging roofs, peeling paint, and weed-choked lawns. Some of the driveways were littered with junk—rusted sheet metal, rotting plywood, abandoned appliances. Clarence pulled up to number 920. He scanned his sister’s house, noticing the dull gray duct tape on her bedroom window facing the street.

  Something else I need to fix.

  Felicia and Celeste, Dani’s twin five-year-olds, ran out in synchronized fashion, yelling “Uncle Antsy, Uncle Antsy.” Both forty inches tall and forty pounds soaking wet, they jumped into his extended arms and he curled them like dumbbells, holding one in each arm effortlessly. He lifted them up high like a shoulder press, while they clutched his arms, giggling hilariously. He proudly displayed the girls for Jake, who smiled broadly, nodding his approval.

  Clarence waved to Dani, who was working on the left side of the house, tending her little rose garden, a stark contrast to her neighbor’s, ramshackle and grown over with weeds. Though they’d reached their peak two months ago, under Dani’s watchful eye the last of summer’s roses still barely held on.

  “Hey, little sister!” Eyes on Dani, Clarence passed the girls to Jake like two sacks of potatoes. Surprised, Jake grinned, and they touched his face with immediate familiarity. Any friend of Uncle Antsy’s was a friend of theirs. Clarence made a beeline for Dani.

  “Hey, big brother!” Dani’s girlish smile spread like a wave across her round moist face. Her skin was smooth except for one blemish on the right side of her throat, a discolored scar left by another jagged beer bottle that same Mississippi night.

  Jake watched as Clarence lifted Dani off her feet, him laughing, her giggling. He envied Clarence for having this kind of relationship with his sister.

  “Jesus is my best friend,” Felicia announced to Jake, as if this was the most important thing he could know about her. It seemed to Jake only yesterday his own daughter Carly, now nineteen, was just this size.

  When Clarence introduced Dani to Jake, she reached out her hand. “I’ve heard all about you,” she said with a toothy grin.

  “Not as much as I’ve heard about you.”

  They went in and sat at the kitchen table. Clarence wondered if she’d ever get a new one. He’d offered to buy her one many times, but she’d always refused. She poured them both a berry-red glass of Kool-Aid. The ice clanked against the glasses as they talked.

  “Where’s Ty?” Clarence asked.

  “Who knows? I’m havin’ trouble with that boy, Antsy. I know he loves me, but he’s fourteen and he just won’t listen to his mama. The boy needs a daddy.”

  Clarence nodded.

  “I’ve put an ad in the Trib lookin’ for one,” Dani glanced at Jake with a deadpan expression. “Course, maybe I shouldn’t have included my picture.” A low squeal of a laugh came out of Dani, rising to a crescendo. Jake smiled. He liked her already.

  “You look great, Sis,” Clarence said, despite the rapid aging of her face, the gray hairs and extra pounds.

  Tyrone, wearing a blue durag, swaggered in the front door. His teenage sensors detected the presence of adults, and he made a quick turn toward his room.

  “Ty, get over here—it’s your Uncle Antsy,” Dani called. “And his friend Jake Woods. From the newspaper.”

  Ty came out mumbling something under his breath, maintaining steady eye contact with the floor. An eighteen-year-old independence rose out of this fourteen-year-old boy, who disappeared immediately after his command performance. Clarence noticed the distinctive blue of his bandanna.

  “What’s he doin’ wearin’ Crip colors?”

  “That’s what I been tellin’ you, Antsy. I just don’t know. He says those colors aren’t a gang thing any more. Some people say it’s so and others say it ain’t. Truth is, I’m losin’ him to the hood. He’s startin’ to run with bangers. I think he’s a wannabe. He’s losin’ his straight A’s. Studies are slippin’. Boy needs a daddy, or at least a man he can look up to. Don’t know what to do, how to stop it.”

  “We’ve been over this a hundred times, Sis. Move! Just get out of here. I’ll set you up with a down payment. I’ll find you a place out by us.”

  “Out in the burbs? They’re not for me.”

  “You need to live someplace safe, that’s all I’m saying. Doesn’t matter where, as long as you can keep the kids away from the bad influences.”

  “Oh, no bad influences in the suburbs? Come on, Antsy. I’ve never lived in the burbs, and I don’t think I could. Folks there don’t know each other—you’ve said that yourself.”

  “And in the city you’re likely to get knifed for pocket change by somebody you’re on a first-name basis with, is that what you want? If that’s what it means to know folk, I’d rather not know anybody.”

  “It’s not like that, Antsy. Folks here look out for each other. We’ve got lots of problems, that’s true, but it brings us together. Me, I just got to find a way not to lose my son.”

  “You want Ty to stay out of trouble, off drugs, out of the gangs? You’re gonna have to get him out of here. Change his environment. That’s the way it is.”

  “Things are gettin’ better. Councilman Norcoast has a new plan.” Dani ignored her brother’s rolling eyes. “It’s a good plan. I’ve been at the sounding board meetings. We can turn this thing around if we work together. Why don’t you move in on my street, Antsy? There’s some houses for sale.”

  “I’m surprised they aren’t all for sale. Who’d want to live here?” Clarence saw instantly he’d hurt her. “Sorry, Sis. I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “I really appreciate you comin’ over every week and spendin’ time with the kids,” Dani said. “But if your family was nearer and Ty knew he could talk to you, watch you, maybe then…We need all the role models we can get, big brother. The community needs people like you.”

  “Stop thinking of the community and start thinking about yourself and your children. Don’t you see, Sis? The city belongs to drunks and druggies and users and pimps and gangbangers. They’ve taken over. That’s why your big shot Councilman Norcoast doesn’t live in a hood like this. Why would he? And why would I move somewhere just to triple bolt my door every night and hope some lowlife with a sawed-off shotgun or an Uzi doesn’t blow open my door and rob me blind? What’s the point?”

  “The point is giving back to your people, helping the neighborhood, brother.”

  Clarence hated this conversation, as much as he’d hated it the dozens of times they’d had it before. He shook his head and kissed Dani on the cheek, as if to say “We’re never going to agree, but I love you.” He looked at Jake. “Time to go to work. If you think you’re man enough to keep up with me, I mean.”

  Clarence and Jake started tearing out the badly worn living-room carpet. They followed with odds and ends chores, Jake fixing a leaky faucet while Clarence measured Dani’s bedroom window for a replacement.

  At four o’clock Jake peered out the living-room window, watching the street. There she was. Janet, looking tentative and studying the street numbers, crawled up in Jake’s lapis blue Mustang.

  “See ya, Dani. Nice to meet you,” Jake said.

  Dani gave Jake an unexpected hug. “Bye, Jake. Thanks so much for your help.”

  “Come
on out and meet Janet,” he said to her. The women chatted a few minutes, then Jake got in the driver’s seat. As he pulled off, he rolled down the window and called out, “Later, Antsy.”

  Clarence glared. “Later, Jakey.”

  On their way back up the porch steps Dani said, “You can’t give up on the city, big brother. You can get me out of here, but who’s gonna get out the Hills up on Jack Street? And the Devenys over on Brumbelow? And Mr. Wesley and his children on Moffat? And old Hattie Burns right across Jackson? We need men like you, Clarence.”

  “Geneva tells me you’ve been talking about getting us in here. Well, you may be able to push her buttons, little sis, but not mine. My dream’s the same as always. A house in the country, even farther out than where we’re moving in three weeks— but hey, it’s a start. Beautiful fields and trees and flowers and horses and peace and safety for my children, that’s what I want. And I want it for you too, Sis. That’s not such a bad dream, is it?”

  “You and your dreams, Antsy,” Dani sighed. “At least you could come to our church and teach a class or work with the youth. At least you could do that.”

  “It’s a long way to drive for church.”

  “How ’bout I cut you a deal, big brother? Instead of Saturdays, you come out Sundays to church, spend the afternoon with my kids. That way we’d see Geneva and Keisha and Jonah. The girls would love to hang with ’em. And you’d have your Saturdays all to yourself and your family out there in your suburbs.”

  Clarence acted as if he didn’t hear, turning to watch the commotion at the front door. Celeste and Felicia had arrived again, in tow from Hattie Burns. The old woman scowled at Clarence.

  “Now, Clarence, these little girls say you been readin’ them some stories. And they don’t want to finish the video they been watchin’ at Grandma Hattie’s. They prefer your readin’. Now if that don’t beat all!”

  She gave him a big grandmotherly hug. Hattie always reminded him of Mama, soft and warm and cuddly, but with more authority than smart boys ever wanted to challenge.

  “You goin’ to read about Asian?” Felicia asked wide eyed.

  “And Lucy and Susan?” Celeste asked.

  “And Peter and Edmund,” Clarence said. “Don’t forget the boys! Yeah, I brought the book along. When we finish it, there’s still six more books to go! How does that sound?”

  Both beamed ear to ear as he picked up The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. He’d started reading stories to them two years ago. Back then Ty sat and listened too.

  Clarence walked toward the big bedroom the twins shared with their mama. Meanwhile the girls ran to the living room to pick up the old brocade chair that had been Clarence and Dani’s mother’s prize possession. One girl lifted it on each side. Like throne bearers, they carried in the chair for Uncle Antsy.

  Felicia’s and Celeste’s own beds were tucked in the corner of their mother’s room. Three years ago when Clarence’s daddy still had the strength, the two of them had built a paneled divider for the girls to give them that closed-in cozy feeling kids like. Dani said she shared the room with the girls so they wouldn’t be scared at night. Clarence knew she needed the company too.

  Felicia proudly showed off her new lunch bucket with a big-eyed giraffe. “Isn’t it fine, Uncle Antsy?”

  “Finer than frog’s hair, Felicia.” He picked her and Celeste up and swung them together effortlessly around his head.

  “Have I told you how much you girls look like your mama when she was little?”

  They both giggled—he told them that every time he saw them. He slowly brought them down from near the ceiling, depositing them gently on the bed. Uncle Antsy was the biggest, strongest man on earth. With him around, they never had to be afraid.

  The girls took their place on Mama’s bed. Clarence read to them for nearly an hour, then the family ate pork chops, potatoes, and collard greens, Uncle Antsy’s favorite meal. Following the sweet potato pie and coffee, Clarence and Dani put the girls to bed. Brother and sister stayed up late talking about old times, growing up in Mississippi, the years in the Chicago projects, and the move to Oregon. Time got away from them. Geneva called at 11:20 to make sure Clarence was okay. He finally moved toward the door at 11:45, kissing his little sister good night.

  “Antsy…promise me you’ll pray about movin’ in here, or at least comin’ in for church. So you can keep in touch. I think it would do you a world of good too.”

  “You’ve got the tenacity of a pit bull, Sis, I’ll give you that.” Clarence suddenly shook himself loose, arms dangling, puttin’ on a strut and lookin’ like he owned the world.

  “Yeah, you right, Mama, do me a world a good. I could smoke me some hubba, sip me a forty, do a few speedballs. I get draped, put on lokes and a durag, dress down, and put in some work, huh? Yo, whatchu think, little sis?”

  He pulled his pants down low enough she could see the top two inches of his underwear. She slapped her hand over her mouth.

  “I be one bad hoodsta, hey? I mean, why play tennis out in the burbs when you can fly yo’ colors in the hood, grab a rosco, and go get dusted with the homies?”

  “Very funny.” Dani tried not to laugh, but she did. “Come on, Antsy. There’s more to life here than gangs and drugs, and you know it. I want you to promise me you’ll think about it.” She looked at him with those big pleading brown eyes.

  “Okay,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender, almost touching the ceiling. “I promise.”

  “Great. I love you, big brother.” She kissed him on the cheek and gave him a bear hug. He’d always enjoyed her hugs, even when they were children.

  Clarence got in the Bonneville and drove down Jackson, the street now gleaming with a late summer sprinkle that cooled the night air to a pleasant chill. About every third streetlight didn’t work. Some had burned out, others were shot out, target practice for gangbangers. The street gleamed, black oil drawn out by the light rain.

  As he drove by houses, Clarence imagined residents going through the ritual of checking and rechecking the locks on their doors. Like tortoises withdrawing into their shells, many inner-city families withdrew into their houses shortly after dark to find refuge. He watched teenagers still on the streets, some on foot, some on dime-speed bikes, some driving, including a few he was certain weren’t old enough. As he turned on to Martin Luther King, he saw graffiti tags everywhere, reminding him of wolves marking their territory.

  He thought about Tyrone. He had to help Dani, to keep Ty from running with those young hoodlums. Yeah. He’d make sure of it.

  Clarence drove past a police car with two uniformed officers in the front seat. His whole body stiffened, and he exchanged wary glances with them.

  “Boom! Boom! Boom!” He winced, hearing behind him the muffled noise of successive backfires that seemed to go on and on. Or was it gunshots?

  The cops pulled a U-turn and headed toward the sound. Clarence considered turning around himself. But why? If he turned around every time he thought he heard a gunshot in this part of town, he’d never get home. He drove a mile farther, heard a siren and watched another police car and then an ambulance fly by.

  I don’t care what you say, little sis. I’m going to get you out of here before it’s too late.

  Clarence turned to his favorite Christian radio station. He listened to the preacher say, “God wants his children healthy and happy. Claim his promises for you, and he’ll send his angels to protect you. He’ll make you prosper, and he won’t let harm come your way.”

  Thirty minutes later Clarence turned into his driveway east of Gresham. Suddenly he hit the brakes, startled. A bluish figure paced frantically under the front porch light.

  Geneva? It was after midnight.

  He saw his wife’s contorted face and shoved the Bonneville into park before it stopped. He jumped out of the lurching car and bounded up the porch steps.

  “What’s wrong? What’s happened? Are the kids all right?”

  “Oh, baby.” Geneva so
bbed. She hugged him tight, clung to him. She was trying to tell him something, but Clarence couldn’t understand her.

  “Calm down, Geneva! Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I got a call. From Hattie Burns. It’s Dani.”

  “What? What happened?”

  “She’s been shot. Dani’s been shot!”

  “I’ll stay with the kids. Call me!”

  Clarence didn’t hear Geneva’s frantic voice. He’d already hopped in the car and jammed it into reverse as soon as she’d said, “Emanuel Hospital.”

  “Be careful,” she begged as the hedge obscured her view of the screeching Bonneville. She prayed he’d make it to the hospital in his car rather than an ambulance.

  Clarence drove toward Emanuel in a blur, immersed in a fog of thoughts and images and questions and pleadings to God. The farther he got into the city, the more the artificial lights bombarded him, on the one hand illuminating what was out there, on the other obscuring it.

  The streetlights bounced off his car’s metallic finish, creating a reddish glint. The SSE was sporty, expensive. More than they could afford. He thought of how meaningless the car was in the face of what was happening.

  What is happening?

  What was it the health and prosperity book said this morning? “Serve God and he’ll always take care of you. Count on it!”

  O God, take care of her. Please make her all right. Please.

  He ran three red lights getting to the freeway. Holding it to seventy, he hoped to escape being pulled over by the police. When he finally got off at the hospital exit, he came to a stop and waited impatiently for red to turn green.

  Why wouldn’t she listen to him? Sure, the suburbs weren’t heaven. True, half the time you didn’t know your neighbor. He might be an embezzler or tax evader or adulterer. Maybe his kid smokes dope and cheats in algebra and his wife’s in alcohol rehab. But at least they just gossip about you or at worst bash in your mailbox. They don’t shoot you.