by Dijorn Moss
“You didn’t have to have me.”
The statement caused Carroll to shake like she had chills. “I don’t believe in killing no babies.”
“No, you just believe in leaving them defenseless and uncared for.”
“What do you want me to say? Huh! Sorry? I’m sorry for ruining your life.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I want you to say. All I know is that I got a lot of anger and bitterness toward you that I’m trying to deal with.”
“The Bible talks about forgiveness.”
“Yeah, and you and I know that’s easier said than done. I could say that I forgive you, but that wouldn’t be true. The truth is forgiveness is a process, and I’m not ready to forgive you.” Will turned away from his mother, because his words felt like razors cutting at his throat.
“What does that say about your newfound faith if you can’t even forgive your own mother for the wrong I’ve done?”
“It says God is still working on me, but at least I know where my broken places are. For years I blamed my father for not being there, but the truth is you weren’t there, either. The only difference is Pop was in a small prison cell. You were right in this living room, withdrawn.”
“Talk to me in five years, when you’ve had enough disappointments, and see if you don’t turn out withdrawn.”
“Mom, I don’t hate you. I love you, and I want to forgive you, but it’s hard letting go when you don’t know what to do after you let go.”
How to let go? That was something that Will had struggled with for the past year. Christ wanted him to lay his burdens aside, but some burdens were so heavy that Will was afraid he would collapse if he let them go.
Will’s phone sounded with another text message alert. Jamal was outside in the alley, just as Will had instructed.
“Listen, Mom. I got to go. I’ll call you when I get Josh safely back to my place.”
Will’s mother did not respond. It was as if the whole conversation that had just transpired was a figment of Will’s imagination.
Will made his way to his old room, which he used to share with Joshua. It had a window that would pop off real easy. This was a time when Will wished his parents’ apartment had a back door. There was a narrow space between the apartment building and a barbwire fence. Will would have to drop down to the closed black Dumpster without being hurt. The impact of Will’s fall would alert his former gang members to his presence. Without hesitation, Will would have to make his way down the narrow pathway to the alley where he’d told Jamal to park.
Will wasted no time at all. He popped off the window, leaned it against the wall, climbed up through the open space, and positioned himself to drop down. Will jumped, and his feet absorbed the impact of a two-story drop onto concrete. As soon as Will’s equilibrium was reestablished, he dashed toward the silver Civic with factory-tinted windows. He had a small window of time to make it to the car without being spotted.
Chapter Thirteen
Chauncey
“She said she was coming?” Brother Mitchell said from his hospital bed.
That was the only statement Brother Mitchell uttered that did not reflect the anguish he suffered from lymphoma. Chauncey sat beside Brother Mitchell and wondered how the nurses were able to get so many injections and tubes into such a frail body.
“She said she was coming,” Chauncey said, but he knew that Brother Mitchell’s ex-wife had been saying that she was coming to see her terminally ill ex-husband for two months now. She had yet to make good on her promise.
“I don’t know what I’ll do if I leave here before I get to see my Patricia.” Brother Mitchell swallowed hard, and tears slipped from his eyes.
“Don’t get yourself worked up, Brother Mitchell. You don’t know what God has in store for you.”
“I do know. I’ve seen it in my dreams. God is so awesome, but my father told me a long time ago that a man should try to settle all his accounts before he goes home. I made peace with everyone but my Patricia,” Brother Mitchell said.
After the death of Henry, Chauncey thought that it would be therapeutic for him to join the healing ministry at church. He figured that the best way to deal with not being there for his brother in the end was to be there for others as they made their transition. Of course, the healing ministry had different aspects, but Chauncey made it a point to visit those who did not have much time left. In the past six months he had learned more from people who were at the end of their life than he had learned in all of his thirty-eight years.
“Did I tell you about the sixty-seven Mustang?” Brother Mitchell asked.
“What about it?” Chauncey asked, even though he had heard about the Mustang every day for the past month. He figured that elderly people remembered only a few precious moments. Brother Mitchell’s was a ’67 Mustang, which he used to take his then bride, Patricia, for rides in.
“I had this sixty-seven Mustang. It was candy-apple red with a white leather interior. I used to take Patricia for a ride, and she would get scared because I drove too fast. I used to tell her they didn’t build Mustangs to go slow.”
Chauncey and Brother Mitchell enjoyed a chuckle. Chauncey always seemed to find both humor in Mitchell’s story and concern, because it took a lot out of Mitchell to tell it.
“We’d go to the drive-in and not even remember the movie that we saw.” Mitchell turned away from Chauncey, as if he was lost in thought. “Why couldn’t that be enough? Why?”
Brother Mitchell’s rhetorical question referred to the woman whom he would eventually leave Patricia for and thus begin the second of three failed marriages. Patricia remained the woman whom he regretted leaving the most, and that was why it was so essential for Mitchell to make things right with her.
“Get some sleep, Brother Mitchell. She’ll be here soon enough,” Chauncey said.
Even with the disease tearing through his body without mercy, Mitchell was still able to look at Chauncey and convey that he did not believe the good deacon.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Chauncey said as he stood up to walk out.
“You can’t promise that,” Mitchell replied.
Chauncey prayed over Mitchell, as he’d done since he first started visiting him, and then walked out of the room. Chauncey walked down the hall with a spirit of heaviness in his heart. He couldn’t believe that in some ways, he envied Brother Mitchell. Chauncey would not wish any kind of disease on even his worst enemy, but Brother Mitchell had experienced something that still remained both elusive and obscure to Chauncey: true love.
Even though Brother Mitchell was responsible for the collapse of his marriage, Chauncey still marveled at how Mitchell recognized who his true love was and what true love meant. Throughout his life, Chauncey had less than a handful of girlfriends, and he used the term girlfriends loosely. In actuality he’d dated only a couple of women for a short time, and the thought of never having a girlfriend was too much for Chauncey to bear. Two things that weighed heavily on Chauncey’s heart were that Brother Mitchell might die while waiting for his ex-wife to show up and that Chauncey might die without anyone to call on.
He arrived at the elevator and watched as it counted down to his floor. He then looked at a distorted image of himself in the still mirrored doors when the elevator arrived. Fittingly enough, the steel doors split open and so did Chauncey’s image.
Chapter Fourteen
Will
“This is a bad idea,” Will said from the passenger seat.
“Oh yeah? And driving out here all by yourself is a brilliant idea? Listen, I don’t want to spend this drive arguing over whose plan is dumber. That’s like arguing over which handcuffs feel more comfortable,” Jamal said.
Will leaned back in his seat and stared at the backdrop of the city. At night the city of Los Angeles could be awe-inspiring. Skyscrapers, the Staples Center, a mountain range that led into the valley. Will understood the allure of the city and why so many came to try their hand at stardom. But there were
some areas that not even Los Angeles’s skyline could illuminate. West of the 110 freeway lay blocks of abandoned buildings, which were emblematic of an impoverished landscape.
Will still had a few contacts from his old stomping grounds that knew everything that went down with the Untouchables. Joshua and his crew were making noise around town, Will discovered. That was the problem with today’s gangsters: they talked too much. Not only was his brother a member of the Untouchables, but he had also assumed Will’s old responsibility of stealing cars. Josh wanted to be like Will, but he was not. Joshua and his crew were being sloppy. Will detested his old life, but he at least had a little more polish in his time as a car thief.
He got word that Joshua and his crew were at a house party. Will found out that Joshua spent a lot of time at the Crenshaw mall. The reason why Joshua hung out so far from his home was beyond comprehension. Will learned that some girls who Joshua had met at the mall had invited Joshua and his crew to the party. That only added to his brother’s foolish thinking. He was a long ways from home and did not understand the territory. Will had to get him back.
Will’s thoughts switched from his brother to the conversation he had had earlier with his mother. Will had many regrets in his life, and among them was his relationship with his parents and his failure at being a good role model for his brother. Joshua had grown up watching Will handle business, make money, and collect respect. How naive of Will to believe that his one year of being saved would cause Joshua to abandon his present course.
“Let me ask you something.” Will turned to a focused Jamal.
“What’s up?”
“Do you believe the Bible when it says that the sins of a father affect several generations?”
“Yes, but I also believe that the generational curse ends when someone takes a stand and says, ‘Enough.’”
Will prayed that he would be strong enough to take a stand and protect his family. He didn’t want to lose his brother, but Joshua had gotten entangled in a web that only God could pull him out of.
“Listen, J, you know what the get down is at these functions? Nothing good goes down.”
“I know,” Jamal said.
“You know? What do you mean, you know?”
“I’ve attended so many wakes that resulted from an out-of-control party.”
“Man, you got everything going for you. You’re about to get married,” Will said.
“Proverbs seventeen, seventeen. ‘A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.’ It’s easy to be your friend when we’re shooting pool, chopping it up. But here right now is where you need me the most.”
They arrived at a green and white flat that faced the street. The sidewalk was packed with guys drinking and smoking. Will knew this was the place, because his muscles started to tighten up. Jamal parked across the street, in front of a barbershop. They had to be quick. This was not a neighborhood in which to park a luxury car.
“Last chance.” Will did not even turn around to look at Jamal.
“I’m not going home, nor am I going in there without a word of prayer.” Jamal bowed his head, and Will followed suit. “Lord, don’t let us get shot or killed. Amen!”
“Amen!”
The two men exited the car and jogged across the street, avoiding oncoming traffic on the four-lane street. They made their way past the guys standing in the front yard. The backyard was accessible through a narrow walkway that had piles of junk lined up along the sides. The junk was indiscernible at night.
The junk impeded Will’s progress. As he drew closer to the music, he heard Chris Brown’s latest song blasting from speakers. Teenagers were grinding their glistening bodies against each other. In October the nights were cooler, but the warmth of the summer still lingered. But nothing could beat the heat that existed between the boys that danced with the girls and the girls that ground against each other. Will searched for Joshua on the dance floor, but he didn’t find him. Will looked along the walls, and all he saw were different groups of guys huddled together, plotting, waiting for something to happen next.
“We got to find Josh, quickly,” Will said, to which Jamal nodded in agreement.
The danger element came from the guys who were not dancing and instead had come to the party to drink, smoke, and cause mayhem. Will found his brother in the midst of those intent on doing the third thing. He and his two friends sat in chairs, while three girls his brother’s age grind up against them.
“That’s right, Li-Li. Do like how Momma showed you,” a middle-aged woman said, encouraging a girl, whom Will presumed was her daughter, to continue to grind against his brother.
Joshua broke out a knot of money, and he started to sprinkle the air with it as the girl in return swerved her butt. Joshua also took sips of a drink from a red plastic cup. Will did not want to speculate on what they had done to earn the money. Instead, he made a beeline to his brother and snatched him up by his arm.
“Let’s go,” Will ordered Joshua.
“Come on, man. Stop hating,” Joshua snapped. He fought to regain control of his arm.
“And I ain’t repeating myself, neither.” Will reestablished his grip on Joshua.
“You doing extras!” said the young girl who was grinding on Joshua.
“You doing the most. Where your momma at?” Jamal asked the girl.
“Right there.” The girl pointed to the voluptuous woman who had cheered her on moments before. Now the woman was on the dance floor, shaking her massive butt.
“Dang!” Jamal, Will, and Joshua said in unison.
“Come on. I’m trying to get a rub up on something.” Joshua turned to the side and hurled.
Will turned his attention to the contents of Joshua’s cup. He snatched the cup away from his brother and spilled some of the drink on his hand.
“Come on, bro,” Joshua slurred.
Will lifted the cup to his nose and smelled the strong liquid. He knew exactly what it was, a mixture of different types of alcohol and the energy drink Four Loko, otherwise known as FoLo and “blackout in a can.” Four Loko had four main ingredients: alcohol and the stimulants caffeine, taurine, and guarana. It came in 6 percent and 12.5 percent alcohol. Will would ring his brother’s neck later, but first he had to get him out of there.
“Our mom is at home, worried sick about you. I’m taking you home now,” Will said. He didn’t say another word.
He grabbed Joshua and made his way toward the front.
“Josh, where you going?” Peanut, Josh’s friend, asked.
“Home, and if you want a ride, you better come with me,” Will said as he continued to walk toward the front. Will dragged Joshua by his arm to the front yard.
“Let me go,” Joshua snapped, attracting the attention of the guys up front.
“Hey, if little man says let him go, then let him go or else,” one guy said.
The man dwarfed Will, but that did not scare him. The man had a half-empty bottle of gin in his hand, and that did not bother Will, either. What bothered Will was that between him and Jamal’s car were three drunken gangsters and a busy four-lane street. Even if they got past the guys, Will wondered how they would get away. Out of his peripheral vision he saw Jamal trying to figure out the schematics himself.
“Come on, brother. We’re just trying to take our little brothers home before it gets too late,” Jamal said, trying the Christian approach.
That did not move the guy.
“Dude, we ain’t got a problem with you, so step aside.” Will said, trying the street approach.
The guy refused to move, so Will moved him with a fist to the guy’s stomach. Jamal pushed the second guy into the third guy, which cleared a way for them to escape. They ran across the street. Joshua and his friend were ahead of them, but oncoming traffic caused the boys to zigzag. Will felt a sudden injection of fear, for he did not know how they were going to survive the scene. Just then, guns started to fire.
Will pulled ahead of Joshua and Peanut in t
he footrace to the car. Between the cars that sped toward them and screeched to a sudden halt and the bullets that whisked by, Will doubted his chances of survival were high. He didn’t hear any screams, so he assumed that no one had been hit, but the car still seemed too far away to get to. Even if they made it to the car, getting in it and getting away seemed like a near impossibility. Will reached the car first, but it was no good, because he did not have the keys.
“Will?”
Will turned around to see Jamal toss him the car keys. Will caught the keys and unlocked the car. By the time Will got into the car and turned on the ignition, Jamal, Joshua and Peanut were at the car, and the two-way traffic impeded the gunmen’s progress enough to allow Will and the others to escape. Will did not wait for his door to close before driving off. He sped up the street and ran a red light.
“God, I hope we don’t get stopped by the pos,” Jamal said.
“We’ll keep going up Western until we get to Florence. Then we’ll get on the one-ten from there,” Will announced.
Will eyed the speedometer. Between the different notorious gangs that occupied this area of West Los Angeles and the infamous LAPD, Will could not afford to get stopped on their journey back to Long Beach. Will had advised Jamal to take his Honda Civic and leave the Camaro, but the Camaro’s three hundred horsepower would have come in handy. Will made a sharp left on Florence and started to relax, but not too much. There was still a lot of territory to cover between Florence and Long Beach.
“We’re good, Will. Slow this bad boy down,” Jamal said while looking through the passenger-side mirror.
Will nodded. “Cool. I just want to get out of here.”
“I don’t feel so good, bro,” Joshua said.
“Josh, you throw up in my car and you’re walking home,” Jamal whined.
