by Joy, E. n.
Leon stopped at the threshold of the doorway to greet Mama with a kiss and hug before proceeding inside before her. Unlike usual, Leon was dressed fairly well on this evening. He was also clean shaven and sported a nice looking, well overdue haircut, which seemed to take at least five years off his hardened and deeply furrowed face. He slowly chewed on a stout, unlit cigar, as he stood tall in the middle of the living room floor. He barely acknowledged the rest of us sitting on the couch, except with a brief nod in our direction, before immediately turning his attention to Mama.
He seemed to have put on a few more pounds to his already mammoth frame, but it looked to be more like muscle mass than fat. Even as he stood handing Mama a lovely bouquet of red roses, his peaceable look did little to put the three of us at ease. We knew all too well how unpredictable the big man's moods could be.
"I wish that for once we could have this place to ourselves," he complained. "C'mon, baby, let's go and catch a movie or somethin', all right?"
"Ya know what, Leon?" Mama said in a tone that hinted she was about to decline. "I thank you for the roses and all. I really do, but I've got to pass. I'm so wore out. I'm fixin' to go lay down. So let's just get together tomorrow," Mama suggested.
Leon's response wasn't so gentle. "See, I try to do something nice and you reject me." His tone picked up.
Mama just shook her head. She looked at me as if recalling what we'd just talked about. "Why are you always so negative when you come around here? It's just not right, Leon. You and I have a relationship, but this is my home and I can't just let you keep disrespecting my home and family like this." Mama pushed the flowers toward Leon. "So here; take your flowers back and enjoy your movie."
Leon's face frowned with displeasure. "Listen up, woman. I ain't got no time for ya foolishness tonight. I ain't come all this way up here for nothing. So get ya self together and let's bounce. Don't lemme have to tell you twice."
By now Leon was talking so loud that I'm sure all the neighbors could hear him through the screen door.
Mama spoke back sternly before taking her seat on the couch among Fatima and me. "Goodbye, Leon," she said without batting an eye.
Leon could tell she meant business; that she wanted him to go, and more than likely, to never return. "C'mon, Angie. Stop playin' with me and let's go now. I ain't got time for this tonight."
"I said, bye, Leon."
In a huff, the now infuriated Leon tossed the long stem roses forcefully against the door before snatching it open with anger. Before walking out on to the porch, he stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Mama one last time. "You gonna learn one way or another on how to treat a man with the proper respect that's due him." The burly brute turned once again after descending down the steps a ways and stormed back up them, kicking the screen door furiously, startling us all.
By now Montel was on his way to the porch. Montel stood before his glowering adversary. "Leon, look man, I've watched you cold disrespect my mother. I'm sorry, but you're getting up outta here today." Montel cracked his knuckles. "Now, we can do this the easy way and you can walk outta here on your own, or we can do it the hard way, and you can get carted up outta here on a stretcher. The choice is yours."
Leon gritted his teeth and squared his wide shoulders while sizing up the much younger man standing before him. He smirked, backed away slowly, then went to his truck and drove away.
Fatima was so shaken by the turn of events that I had to wrap my arms around her in a comforting hug in order to quell her sobbing.
Mama rose up from her seat to face Montel after he entered the house from the porch. "Look, Montel, I appreciate you taking, care of your mama, but my business is my business, and you don't have to come to my rescue every time, okay?"
"Mama, I'm sorry, but I just can't let that cat disrespect you. I'll be darned if I'm gonna let anybody hurt you."
Mama could see the hurt in Montel's eyes. She walked over to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Look, son, I know I've been going about dealing with Leon the wrong way, but so have you. Actually, I don't think it's either one of us who should be dealing with him at all."
Montel and I waited to see if Mama was going to tell us who the mysterious person was that should be dealing with Leon. The wait wasn't long.
"We both need to let go and let God." Silence fell over the room, a strange but peaceful silence, such as only the kind that words of wisdom can bring.
"Yeah, Mama, you're right," Montel agreed. "We both talk about God, but do our actions speak louder than words?"
Mama thought for a minute and then said solemnly, "I know that I need to rededicate my life to Christ. How 'bout you, son? Huh? What about you?"
Without verbally answering, Montel allowed his actions to speak louder than his words. He extended both his hands; one to me and one to Mama.
"Let's all join hands and seek God in prayer," Mama said.
Mama, Fatima and I stretched forth our hands until we were all linked together. As we all closed our eyes and hung our heads, Mama began to pray. This was a first for the family, and I must admit, the hush that fell over the room was so powerful, that I secretly hoped it wouldn't be the last.
Chapter Ten
We must have praised God on that humid night in August '99 for well over an hour. Even I danced a holy gig for the very first time. I felt completely care free. Carefree from all other worries or distractions, and I could tell by the shared reactions that so did everyone else.
Afterwards we embraced each other, silently recognizing how deeply we were touched by the spirit. Mama sank down into the couch, exhausted from expressing her love for Christ in such an energetic way. Montel walked out onto the front porch in the warmth of the southern California evening to be alone with his thoughts. Fatima gave each of us a warm hug before returning home for the night.
I began to reevaluate my own young life. I began to study the Bible regularly and even replaced my beloved gangsta rap CD's with those of contemporary gospel artists such as Kirk Franklin, Fred Hammond and Yolanda Adams.
Days later, I was going about my daily chores when I realized that Montel hadn't gone out back into the yard to work out as he did daily. It seemed sort of strange to me because he never neglected his exercise routine. Mama and Miss Shante were upstairs in Mama's room discussing Leon and one of his latest meltdowns. As I climbed the stairs, I couldn't help but grow angrier and angrier as I heard the details of the garbage man's physical assault of my mother.
"I am really going to leave Leon for good this time; you'll see," I heard Mama cry to Miss Shante. I felt sorry for my mother because I felt that she was finally sincere for the first time.
I heard Montel stroll through the front door, not uttering a word to any of us as he made his way upstairs and into the room which had been his before he'd moved out with Miss Shante. Only a couple seconds later did Montel walk back down the stairs. Miss Shante took off downstairs to catch up with her man. As she ran downstairs, me and Mama were close on her heels. The three of us darted across the living room floor and through the open door, and onto the porch.
The porch and the front yard were silent and empty. There was no sign of Montel anywhere. Mama looked beside her toward Miss Shante, who smiled back weakly. "Pray for Montel, Shante. Please pray for him, and for me. I know his silent treatment and attitude is because of silly ole me. Something tells me that he's gonna go after Leon for hitting me. I know my child, Shante," Mama confessed while shaking her head. "He's gonna go after Leon, and who knows what he might do?"
Miss Shante held out her arms, and she and Mama hugged each other real tight. "That boy has come too far to backslide now," Mama cried. "Lord knows I don't wanna see my baby end up back behind bars because of me."
The silence of the porch was broken by our mother's bitter sobbing, in conjunction with Miss Shante's own. The two women embraced one another for what seemed like an eternity, crying together for a man whom we all loved. As for me, I simply leaned forward over the wo
od railing, staring out across the street as dusk settled upon Compton.
"Mama, I think I might know where Montel is," I said. "He might be at Mr. Larry's place. Mr. Larry will be able to talk some sense into him. So, I'm gonna take a walk over there. I'll be right back."
As I walked briskly down Santana Block, I paid only scant attention to shadowy images of cats hanging out, shooting dice and loitering near the local liquor store. A couple was even pan handling for beer money. Passing Mr. Lee's convenience store, I noticed a late model Lincoln Town car cruising slow and sinister in neutral. Immediately, my heart began pounding and I quickened my pace a bit more. The tinted window rolled down just a tad.
"Cee-Lovah! It's me. Montel, c'mon. Hop in!"
A strong sigh of relief left me as I turned and crossed Bowed Lane toward the grim looking vehicle. The back door opened wide and I stepped into the spacious inside. Two of my brother's homies sat in the back guzzling down Old English malt liquor while another of his old Reaper buddies drove the whip, puffing on a half smoked blunt that fogged up the interior with its hypnotic smoke.
Montel lounged beside the bandanna wearing driver, listening to the mesmerizing, violent gangsta poetry of Eazy E as he took the blunt from the driver's fingers and inhaled the potent smoke deeply. When he turned to face me, I could see that he was extremely high with glassy, reddened eyes and a serene but serious bearing. A black bandanna covered his head in a Tupac style wrap and he held an ebony hued banana clip in one hand while he puffed on the blunt with the other. An A.K 47 lay silent and menacing across his broad thighs as he sat up front.
The blunt passed around the car several times, which I surprisingly refused to partake of. Talk of the bloodletting and redemption rattled throughout the darkened Lincoln as we crept slowly down the dimly lit streets of our Compton neighborhood. Assault weapons were being loaded all around as my brother and his homeboys discussed a drive-by shooting. Montel had completely returned to his psychopathic roots; the same ones that had landed him behind bars in the first place. This was now a Compton gang banger. A death-dealing rider who brought dread to all the residents of the hood. Total recall of Montel's Reaper past had now fully taken control of his very being, and it wasn't pretty to look at.
Palm trees, willowy and dark, breezed past the partially open window as we cruised down the street toward Leon's house, which was about a half mile way. Montel flicked the remainder of the blunt out of the passenger's side window into the dark void beyond before adding a handful of hollow tip shells to the banana clip he held loosely.
"I just wanted to get your attention, that's all," Montel said to me. "But I think you'd better go on back home, 'cause this ain't no place for you to be right now, feel me?" Montel filled the clip with rounds.
I was disappointed in my brother for the first time in my life, and I felt that I had to let him know how I felt. "Montel, man this ain't you, Black. You're better than this, dawg. This ain't gonna solve nothin'. It's just gonna make things worse. For you especially!"
"Do you think I care? I been to the pen before. I can survive. That ain't no problem. And I'd rather go back to prison than to let some punk, mark hit on Mama!" Montel snarled with anger. "I tried, Cee, I really did. I made a lotta positive changes in my life, and I'm proud of that. I know that what I'm about to do is wrong, but I ain't letting this ride, Cee, 'cause Mama ain't never gonna leave Leon for good on her own. And who knows what he'll do to her next?"
As I listened to Montel's response, I got even angrier with him. "Dawg, you a sucka. How you gon' come here from prison talking all of this righteous, Zen master stuff and now you gonna flip the script and go back to bangin'? Not only have you confused the heck outta me, but you should be ashamed of yourself for being such a hypocrite!"
Montel slammed the full clip into the bottom of the assault rifle angrily, then he turned in his seat to face me. "Look, boy, you'd better calm down before I calm you down!"
"Forget you, dawg. I'm gonna speak my mind, playa," I snickered. "Watcha gon' do about it? Shoot me, too?"
"Who do you think you're talking to, Cee?" Montel replied deep and guttural. "Get out, Cuz!"
Before I could utter another word, I felt the swift painful sting of my brother's open palm hard on the left side of my face. He then had the driver pull over abruptly to the curb and he himself yanked me from the back seat, tossing me out onto a nearby lawn before squealing off in a wake of white burning rubber. The town car was deathly silent as it moved down the street.
Chapter Eleven
Even though my body ached and I staggered about with groggy unsteadiness, I was determined to prevent my big brother from ruining his life by making this most horrible of choices. I steadied myself and began to move quickly up Myrrh and Willowbrook, pass the Heritage house, which stood out dark and forbidding amongst the shadowy cluster of palm trees surrounding it. The faint flutter of a police copter overhead mingled with the distant wail of squad car sirens brought me a slight sense of dread for several minutes before I regained enough composure to proceed. After about fifteen minutes or more, I saw the tricked out Lincoln roar past me down Willowbrook, seemingly back to our house.
I could have walked back home if I'd wanted to, but instead I hailed down a passing taxi in order to get to our place as soon as possible. By the time the taxi pulled up along the curb to our home, I could see both of Montel's homeboys' rides as well as Leon's car parked on the street, not far from each other. I hurriedly paid the driver his fare and sprinted with breakneck speed up the winding sidewalk and across the steps. When I entered the house, Montel stood alone, without his homeboys who had obviously been waiting for him in the car, in the living room area. Sitting on the couch next to Mama was Leon. Miss Shante sat in a chair across from them.
I stepped to Montel, motioning with my head for him to take a walk with me outside into the night where he could reconsider his motives. He brushed me off nonetheless.
"Cee, I got this, dawg. I know what I'm doin', all right. You just take Mama and Shante next door to Shante's crib while I handle my business with old Leon here. After that, everything will be gravy." Montel cracked the knuckles on his thick fists loudly while glaring at Leon, who in turn glared back with equal animosity.
I shook my head defiantly after hearing Montel's words. I then reached to take hold of him but stopped just short of touching him.
"Do what I said, Cee," he reiterated.
Mama was talkative and unmovable at first, but after some heavy duty coaxing by Miss Shante, she reluctantly left with me and Miss Shante, still demanding to know what actions concerning Leon would be carried out in her absence.
As we exited the house, I just had to see for myself what was going down. Perhaps there was a chance I could still talk Montel out of doing something stupid. So I told Mama and Miss Shante to go ahead while I stayed, returning back into the house.
Montel's eyes were locked with the older, burly Leon. "Look, Leon, I really don't wanna go there with you, Cuz, but you're making it real hard for me not to. That's my mother you've been putting your hands on. I'm telling you to your face that you're never gonna hit my mother ever again."
Leon stood before Montel, moving only slightly as he slowly twirled a toothpick back and forth in between his sun chapped lips. Then he took the toothpick from his mouth and moved just a bit closer to Montel. "What goes on between ya Mama and me is our business and is of no concern to you or nobody else." Leon stood mean mugging the young, chiseled man-child in front of him. He really didn't want to tangle with the ex-con in all honesty. He even backed up a few paces as a result. Unfortunately for him, this was what his adversary was waiting for.
The two men stood their ground, watching and waiting, waiting and watching, as the chestnut encased grandfather clock ticked away loudly. Then the inevitable happened; quick, fast and in a hurry. I didn't even see it coming, leaving me no time to try to play interference.
There was the rumble of muscular bodies colliding together violentl
y, while simultaneously crashing into furniture all across the room in the process. When the tumultuous thirty-five seconds finally ended, Montel rose up staggering briefly, but of no worse for wear except for a split bottom lip, which leaked crimson as he wiped it clear upon the back of his hand. The same, however, could not be said of Leon as he lay groaning on the floor in a beaten, bruised and bloodied heap.
I had to admit, I was somewhat relieved by the fact that Montel had decided to go man to man with Leon versus straight out shoot him.
"This didn't have to happen like this, Leon, but you left me no choice, man," Montel said gently as he collapsed down on the floor, leaning his broad back against the wall opposite the prostrate form of Leon. "Lord Jesus, have mercy on my soul! I come to you now seeking your face for forgiveness and mercy."
I couldn't believe it as I stood there listening to Montel begin to pray for forgiveness.
"And while you wash me in your blood, sweet Jesus," he continued, "please remember poor Leon here for he's your child, too. Give him a mind to praise your name, Father."
The look on Leon's face was that of a stunned man; a man who couldn't believe that his enemy was praying for him. I was stunned too as I watched Montel hang his head and close out his prayer.
Slowly he rose to his feet and walked over to Leon who was still lying there. He bent down and took the big man in his brawny arms and hoisted him like a baby, carrying him over to the couch where he placed him down onto its soft cushion. He went out onto the front porch where scores of neighbors had gathered around outside of their homes, apparently drawn by the loud arguing and fisticuffs. Eventually, after realizing nothing more was going down, the two dozen or so neighbors shuffled back inside their homes, leaving Montel alone with his thoughts.
"S'up, big homie?" I asked while taking a seat on one of the wicker chairs on the porch that was facing the street. "Looks like you gave Leon a serious beat down back up in the crib."
