Xen wasn’t struggling in her class, but he did need help keeping his fingers on the home row keys. The daily exercises were helping, and Amirah felt that by the end of the semester, Xen would be typing fast with a little practice.
“Did the little street boy get out of the hospital yet?” Marjorie asked as she sat at the table, pulling out the trade paperback copy to After the Feeling by T. N. Williams.
“That’s cold, Marjorie,” Amirah pressed as she pulled out her own copy of the book. She could see that she was not as far into the book as Marjorie and that Marjorie had already highlighted the book with pink and green highlighters so she could identify passages for their upcoming discussion.
“No, it’s not,” she continued as she turned the pages of the book, pulling out her green highlighter to cover another passage. “I’m not at all happy that the boy body-slammed him in front of the Barnes & Noble like that. I’m thinking about your health and safety and what else Turner Mustafa Spartenburg may have up his sleeve.”
“Oh, thank God you are okay.” Aja and a few other members of the book club rushed Amirah as if she had returned from a trial by fire. As crazy as Turner was, many in the group believe she had.
“I’m fine. It’s Mateo who could really use your prayers right now. He needs to heal and get better so he can continue working on being the man God has called him to be,” Amirah affirmed.
She had hoped that the other women weren’t as judgmental as Marjorie. She knew they could be outright anal in their treatment of the characters in the books they read and the developmental skills the author used to bring their stories to life. Mateo wasn’t a book, and she didn’t want him analyzed like one.
“Well, before we start the meeting,” Sarai said, “let us all touch and agree with Amirah and pray for Mateo right now.” Sarai helped Amirah get situated in the chair. “Reach out to two women right now, and everyone else, grab a hold of our sister Amirah.”
Amirah was amazed at how quickly the women banded around her and touched her shoulder, her forearm. A sister had her palm on the crown of her head.
“Father God, the ladies of the Essence of Prayer Book Club come to you right now with a Word of prayer for Mateo.” Sarai interrupted her prayer when she realized she’d forgotten Mateo’s last name.
“Mateo Valdez,” Marjorie chimed in.
“Yes, Mateo Valdez, Lord. We are praying for Mateo Valdez, and we are not just asking for you to be the doctor and the Father we know you to be in the hospital, but we ask that you move his heart in kindness, so that he may forgive Turner for the damage he’s inflicted on him. And God, while we’re at it, we ask for healing for Turner as well, and forgiveness so that before he leaves this earth, he repents of his sins and comes to know you, oh Father God. We pray for all gangsters and heathens, be they behind bars or in the streets. Deliver them from the traps Satan has set before them, and it is in your Son Jesus Christ’s name we pray. Amen.”
“Amen,” the group of women said.
“It is well,” Amirah whispered as she wiped tears from her eyes.
“This is how a book club meeting is supposed to start,” Sarai pointed out. “We read and heavily advocate for godly books on Facebook and Twitter, but who are we if we can’t stand before our sister and let her know that we will pray with and for her in her time of need?”
“Amen,” Aja chimed in.
“Let me turn this over to Marjorie before I start preaching a sermon in here.” Sarai took a seat next to Amirah and pulled out her iPhone. “Y’all, I fell asleep in bed reading again, and my husband rolled over on my Kindle.”
“Again?” Aja asked from behind them.
“Yeah, girl, this is the third one. I’m making him get me the Kindle Fire after we get our bills paid next month. I heard the device can do a lot of things, and I can keep up on His-Love.com as well.”
“Speaking of His-Love.com . . .” Marjorie brought their conversation to the floor. “Anyone else besides Amirah and Aja have a His-Love.com update they want to share?”
“You mean I can’t talk about my husband joining the networking group and trying to be everyone’s friend?” Sarai asked, rolling her eyes but trying to keep from laughing.
“No,” many of the women of the group responded and then busted out in laughter.
“Darn.” Sarai snapped her fingers and joined in the laughter.
“Well, I’ll go,” Marjorie said. Everyone sat up quickly and leaned a little closer to hear what their leader had to say. “Y’all are dead wrong,” she said, which made everyone laugh again. “I think I may have found someone. We are going at a tortoise’s pace, but I’m all right with that. God’s plan is God’s plan.”
“Amen,” the group responded.
Amirah listened as Marjorie talked about her much older man, and she wondered who he could be. She noticed that more men were registering, to the delight of some of the women, but she didn’t investigate. She’d enjoyed her time talking to Mateo via their chat sessions up to their date. She was making the most of things by spending time with him in the hospital.
Amirah felt good that they prayed not only for Mateo, but for Turner too. She didn’t know Mateo well, but it was good to know that she was part of a group that cared for everyone’s soul. Regardless of what he’d done, Amirah was praying for Turner too.
Chapter Twenty
Jesus to the Back
Mateo was out of the hospital in a matter of days, which was a blessing considering his injuries. He suffered a severe seizure, a broken rib, and other bruised internal organs and spine.
He was home resting, listening to Pastor Cummings’ sermon on forgiving your enemies. He enjoyed hearing the older, Southern Baptist–style preacher deliver a fire-and-brimstone conviction that brought him to tears.
In the back of his mind, Mateo wondered if—no, when—he should get even with Turner. That body slam knocked him out, and he still couldn’t remember what happened that caused the man to scoop him up and toss him around like a rag doll. Mateo never knew so much pain in his life. This was worse than being shot.
How was he going to pay for his second trip to the hospital in a matter of months? Turner and his boys were responsible for him being shot, and now he had to take two thousand milligrams of ibuprofen every four hours to attempt to ease the pain caused by the trauma to his back.
Mateo was angry and rightfully so. His MacBook was gone, and so was the three hundred dollars he’d given Sonic. He was happy that Sonic was able to put the money to use removing two more letters from that satanic bastard’s name from his back. Still, that didn’t ease the pain he felt.
His smooth stroll was now slowed down a few paces. At times, Mateo thought his mind was blanking out, and he couldn’t control the sudden shaking of his arm. He knew what God said, but he would be lying if he didn’t admit that he wanted to kill Turner and ensure that he’d die a gruesome death. The old him would’ve had the spirit to do it; but Pastor Cummings’ message and God’s strong but humbling voice were weighing on his heart, cautioning him that forgiveness was the best answer.
Mateo walked past the mirror, and he saw his slowly healing face. He could see remnants of the black eyes he had. His lips reminded him of a botched lip augmentation. Instead of nice and full, they looked like water balloons on the verge of bursting. His right cheek was still puffy and slightly red. The only thing Mateo thought looked decent on him was his hair—and the way Mateo was feeling, even that was in question.
I’m gonna kill that fool, Mateo vowed and cursed himself for not being the better man in the fight. He didn’t care that Turner had a height and muscle advantage over him. Mateo cared about winning.
Mateo went under his bed and pulled out a small black box, one that was slightly smaller than the shoe box his size nines came in. He took out his keys, and the small brass lock key stood out like a sore thumb. He used that key to open the box, and he pulled out a shiny black Glock. He’d stolen it years ago from a wannabe thug, when he used to run a
group trying to initiate locals into the MS-13 gang. They thought they’d get put on if they committed a rash of crimes and terrorized the city of Asheville, but they were no match for the city’s police force and the county sheriff’s department.
Every year he promised himself that he’d get rid of the gun, but someone or something would cause an anger to rise in him, and he’d keep it in the box . . . just in case.
“Ay, Mateo.” Sonic burst in with his key, and Marvel wasn’t too far behind. The thought crossed Mateo’s mind to hide the gun, but what was the use? The expression on Sonic’s face revealed that he saw it, and Marvel turned his eyes away quickly. He’d seen it too.
“Mateo, come on, man,” Sonic voiced as he begged Mateo for the gun by extending his hand. “We’ve come so far on this journey with Christ.”
“Relax. I’m not going to kill him today.” Mateo checked the clip to see if it was full. “But I can’t promise I won’t try if I see him tomorrow.”
“Mateo, think about Amirah,” Marvel suggested.
Mateo thought about her. The horror he heard in her voice as she called for help. The agony he saw on her face for the brief second he was able to look her in the face before his body took that descent. Mateo thought about her long and hard. He wanted to be her man, and he wanted to be able to protect her.
Turner was a cancer, and he spread his filth to his victim’s families, friends, and whoever else they loved. In the back of his mind, Mateo realized that in order for Turner to have known he was at the Barnes & Noble, he had to have been following Mateo or had one of his goons trailing him. They had probably been watching him for some time.
If they were watching him, who was to say they weren’t watching Amirah? True, they’d just met, but did someone follow him inside the store and see him sitting with her? They’d been in Barnes & Noble for more than two hours, long enough for someone to take a few pictures of the two of them together and trail her to her house, or to the school where she worked. That meant the students she taught, as well as everyone at Shiloh Christian Academy, were in danger. Whoever was being paid to watch Mateo was probably watching the motel, too, looking to see who was coming to visit and how long they were staying.
Turner was the vindictive type. This past spring, he’d hounded Sonic for leaving him and harrassed Hammer for stepping in. Turner hunted both of them down until Mateo, Sonic, and Hammer ended up getting shot.
“This has to stop, and Turner needs to be stopped,” Mateo finally voiced. All the thoughts battled in his head, and this conclusion for revenge won over his heart by a landslide.
“I know I can’t stop you.” Sonic lifted up his shirt and showed him his bullet wounds. “Let me remind you what revenge did to me. Think about that before you walk out of here with that gun.”
Sonic pointed to each of the bullet wounds he had received over the years of being in Turner’s company and when he tried to leave. Then he lifted his right leg to show off the one there. That did nothing but infuriate Mateo more and motivate him to find Turner and put an end to his breathing.
“You’re not the only one walking around with miscellaneous holes in your body.” Mateo brushed past Sonic as he put the Glock behind him in his waistband. “I got somewhere to be. Close my door when you leave.”
The looks on Marvel’s and Sonic’s faces did not go unnoticed by Mateo. His plans weren’t to shoot Turner at that very moment. For him, the Glock evened the odds and gave him leverage he didn’t necessarily have. Mateo didn’t want to admit that the odds of him beating Turner in a fair fight were slim to none.
In his mind, he felt that if he had to face Jesus and talk to him about the gun in question, he’d have the perfect answer: “Look at him and look at me.”
Satan would’ve accepted that answer. God wouldn’t, and Mateo knew it.
Mateo took out the keys to the Lincoln that he was still “borrowing” from Hammer and pressed the button to unlock to the door. He still couldn’t get Hammer to let him drive one of the cabs, but after running an errand for the old man, he never asked for the keys back and told Mateo to keep gas in it until he needed it.
Mateo hadn’t expected he confrontation between him and Sonic and Marvel. Now he knew it was just a matter of time before Hammer confronted him about the gun. Having the weapon was a direct violation of his rental agreement and could cause him to get kicked out of the motel and lose his job. With a few more years before his felonies fell off, Mateo legally couldn’t possess a gun of any kind either. Mateo knew the risks, but he couldn’t afford not to bear arms. He was willing to risk it all, including the extreme possibility that he’d be right back in prison if he was caught with the Glock.
Mateo didn’t have to go to work right away, and he didn’t have a friend that would lead him into trouble that he could hang with. Finding a new place to hide the gun wasn’t an option either.
And going after Turner wasn’t a smart move, at least not without a plan.
Mateo needed time to decide what he was going to do and how he was going to keep the gun and everything he needed to survive. As he pulled out of the parking lot of Heaven’s Inn, he didn’t have a clear direction on where he was going, but he knew he needed to be on the road to somewhere.
Chapter Twenty-one
Provider . . . Comforter
Amirah was thankful that Mateo was out of the hospital. She was concerned because she could tell that Mateo’s spirits were down. She offered to cook and clean for him, but he refused. Amirah didn’t press trying to meet up with him because she knew he was recovering and figured he wanted some privacy. She did the only thing she could do for him: pray and check on him periodically.
The backlash from her show was dying down too, and she was thankful for that. The memes continued to be spread throughout social media. The good thing was that the outside interest from those who didn’t seem to want Christ in their hearts seemed to vanish. Amirah couldn’t remember who’d done something foolish in the past week, but between them and the prejudiced people slandering President Obama for filth, she’d been given a break.
Amirah surprised herself and others because she’d been able to do the show after watching Mateo’s brutal attack. She used her platform to talk about senseless violence, and the heartwarming heart-to-heart talk with a paraplegic that used to think guns and violence were cool changed her perspective on life and God. She wished Mateo could’ve been at the taping, but Amirah told herself she’d get him a copy of the show and watch it with him later.
At the school, she lived up to her promise and let Xen stay in her room for a couple of minutes after school. She and Howard had been e-mailing back and forth throughout the day so that they could work out an arrangement where Howard would provide tutoring since he was Xen’s math teacher.
Xen had made good on his promise to be a better student. He was more focused in class and sought out help from her and his classmates. Amirah got reports on how Xen was turning in his work on time in other classes and his grades were improving.
Once Xen left the room, she made sure all of the computers and laptops were secured. She pulled out her cell phone and called Mateo. It had been a while since she’d seen him, and previous attempts to reach him by phone were unsuccessful.
“Hey, Amirah.” Mateo answered on the second ring.
“It’s good to hear your voice. Where are you?” Amirah put her laptop in her bag and got her nightly papers to grade together.
“I’m on my way to work, but I wanted to stop by Shiloh and see you for a minute.”
“Umm—” Amirah stammered, at loss for words because his request was unexpected.
“I’m not trying to stay at the school. Actually wanted to make sure you got home safely.” Mateo offered, “Maybe I can tell you more about what happened when our date ended.”
Deep down, Amirah wanted to know if Mateo was still a thug, and if he was, what he was into. She really wanted to believe that he’d left his past in the past and was walking forward in Christ. E
verything on his His-Love. com profile and in their conversation indicated that he had. His run-in with Turner would suggest otherwise.
Amirah couldn’t be around anyone like that. Not with the life she was living and the people she was involved with. She had her church family and her students and their families to consider. She couldn’t afford to take that risk.
“Well, I’m on my way to my church’s leadership group. If I leave now, we’ll be an hour early. Why don’t we meet there?”
“A’ight. I’ll see you in a couple of minutes.”
When Amirah made the suggestion, she was hoping that maybe a few people would be in the church. Once she got to the parking lot, she realized that she had forgotten the youth choir had rehearsal that day. They weren’t just preparing for Sunday’s service but for the youth conference that Amirah was taking them to in a few weeks.
She was pleased to see that Mateo was wearing his black-and-silver Burgers & Fries shirt and blue jeans and that he wasn’t stopping to pull up his pants every time he turned around. The big 3:16 belt buckle could be seen from a few hundred feet away.
This is a start.
As she looked at him closely, she could see the scars on his face were healing; his limp, more pronounced. She wondered if the man would need a cane in the near future.
“Hey.” He managed to smile.
She smiled back. “Hey, Mateo. I’m glad you came here.”
“Come on now. I always make it to church.” Mateo leaned in for a hug. Amirah obliged, and then she motioned for him to follow her to a side entrance to the church. From there, they entered into a small pre-school classroom. “Just have a seat at the table over there.”
“Thanks.”
Amirah made sure to lock the door behind her, and she walked to the other door and locked it too. She looked around and could picture the preschoolers she used to care for singing “Jesus Loves Me” and other songs. Their art projects decorated the room, along with scenes from the Bible.
Try a Little Tenderness Page 13