“Wow,” was all that escaped from Amirah’s lips. She hadn’t expected Mateo to be able to pull out all the stops. She expected this to be a low-cost affair where they would get a few snacks or a light meal and then be off to their next adventure.
“Plus, they didn’t want all that food that had been prepared for the other party to go to waste, so we will be taking home whatever fruit we don’t eat.”
Amirah shook her head in amazement—not only at God’s favor, but at the lengths that Mateo went to, to treat her special. “This is really nice.”
“I do whatever I have to do to make sure that you are treated nicely. Hopefully, this will allow you to see a nicer, softer side of me.”
Amirah’s mind traveled. If Mateo did all of this during courtship, she could imagine what he’d be like as a husband. She hadn’t intended to think that far ahead, but she could see romantic dinners like this in her future with him.
“After dealing with those children all day, I want you to enjoy yourself. No pressure. Enjoy the food, good conversation, and anything else you want, Amirah.”
She smiled as she stood up and got a plate of mixed fruit and watched as Mateo did the same.
Beneath all of that hard exterior is a kind, gentle-hearted man, Amirah told herself as she returned to her seat. By the time they were finished with grace, the waiter had returned to take their orders.
“I just want the strawberry and chicken salad,” Amirah ordered.
“Aww,” Mateo expressed after hearing her order. “You can do better than that.”
“I don’t each much for dinner,” Amirah defended. “I usually eat a heavy breakfast and light meals and snacks throughout the rest of the day. Plus, I had chicken and dumplings for lunch, and I don’t want to eat anything else heavy for the rest of the day.”
“Understood. I’ll have the same, with a glass of lemon-lime sparkling water.”
“A drink for you?” the waiter asked Amirah.
“Sparkling water is fine, something with a berry flavor,” Amirah added to her order.
“Coming right up.” The waiter finished writing the rest of their order and left the room.
“So how do you feel?” Mateo asked once the door was closed. “I want to make up for our last date, to make this one special and one for you to remember me by.”
“I’d say you were doing a good job.”
Mateo smiled and nodded his head. They ate in silence, and Amirah sat and took it all in. She didn’t expect to find a man this nice on His-Love.com. Her original plan was just to make friends and to network. Getting close to a man or falling in love wasn’t part of the equation.
Within minutes, the waiter brought in their food, and they enjoyed their meal in silence. Soft, classic R&B music made its echoes in the background. Babyface, Toni Braxton, Regina Belle, and Luther Vandross took turns crooning love songs.
“This is so romantic and tempting,” Amirah spoke up.
“I’m sorry.” Mateo picked up a handheld device and pressed a button. Within seconds, silence filled the room. “I guess I should have had them play Fred Hammond or something.”
“No, it’s not that either,” Amirah said. “I just know me, and I know where that music can take me.”
Mateo wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin. “I can respect that. Everyone has their boundaries. What you can handle, another person may not.”
Amirah nodded her head. “Understood.”
“You want me to play some gospel?” Mateo asked.
“No, I’m good.”
They ate in silence. Once their meal was over, they bypassed desert. They ate more of the fruit and talked about the Word. As she listened to Mateo speak, she found that she had more in common with him than she realized.
Mateo tipped the waiter, and they each had a healthy box of fruit to take home. Amirah was really feeling Mateo and could see herself enjoying another date with him—and she couldn’t wait.
Chapter Twenty-four
Home Run
Yes! Mateo thought as he had intentions to drive home. Dinner at David’s Table was a success, and he was well on his way to making things permanent with Amirah.
The old him tried to make an appearance, to let Amirah know how he felt about her physically, but Mateo shut it down quick. Mind over matter, Christ over body. In his heart, he knew that if he followed God’s plan, Amirah would be his as his wife.
Mateo decided to take a detour. No, he decided not to go straight home but to another place he once called home. He found himself getting closer to West Asheville, where I-240 crossed Patton Avenue and merged with I-26. He took I-26 east and got off at the Hill Street exit. He could see the lights on in the apartment complex.
Even as the day was getting later, several of the residents found something to celebrate. He turned onto the street that led to its entrance. Mateo felt the discernment that going into the complex was not a good idea, but he ignored it.
Before long, he’d driven over two huge speed bumps that had makeshift spikes built into them and nodded his head at the security guard, who was sitting down and fully engrossed in a T. Styles urban horror novel. His old self was reawakened and started to spit game at the beautiful lady whose sandy blond hair and caramel highlights emphasized the features on the right side of her face.
She was a beauty, but she wasn’t Amirah. Their eyes met for a moment, and behind her irises he felt a spirit that would bring him nothing but trouble if he engaged her. As fine as she was, she wasn’t worth losing Amirah over.
He made it past the entrance of the apartment complex and drove past the community center that greeted the residents and visitors at the entrance. Old memories of misusing its purpose came to mind, but Mateo knew he wasn’t getting tempted by that.
He drove down the rows of two-story townhome-style apartments and could see the neighborhood children laughing and playing, not having a care in the world. They darted across the street without looking both ways for cars. The older ones cursed and said things he didn’t have to courage to do when he was their age.
As he drove further in the hood, he could see a young man dressed in baggy clothes, his pants falling off of his behind to reveal the name of the athletic apparel brand that made the body-hugging orange boxer briefs he was sporting. Mateo saw a big, white masculine hand pass some folded greenbacks to the young man, who put them in a smaller pocket above his pants pocket. The young man looked in Mateo’s direction, nodded his head, licked his lips, flashed his grill, cocked a grin, and got in the old-school white Buick.
Mateo knew what time it was as he watched the car drive off. He closed his eyes briefly to say a prayer for the safety of the young man and the driver of the car. Mateo prayed that no incurable impurities passed between them.
Ahead, Mateo was drawn to the old school Jermaine Dupri joint that he’d produced for Nelly. In the midst of it all, he could see Turner’s huge, action-figure body sitting comfortably on the hood of a remodeled, dark-colored Crown Victoria. While some of the ladies were scantily clad, a few looked just as hard, if not harder, than the men they pretended to be. From a distance, one couldn’t distinguish one from the other. One guy, who was obviously high off that Molly, was dancing and stripping by the car. One of Turner’s goons pushed the guy away from the group, and like a determined young buck who was fighting for his woman, the man went back into the group.
Mateo wasn’t pleased that all of this was going on in front of his mama’s house.
Mateo and Turner locked eyes as he cut off the car engine.
I’m not going to let this punk keep me from seeing my mama, Mateo thought as he stepped out of the car and walked toward his old residence.
The inner man wished he had listened to the discernment he had earlier, but he couldn’t run. He wasn’t about to provoke Turner any more than he had by showing up.
“What brings you here?” Turner hopped off the Crown Vic and walked toward him, his balled right fist being cover and massaged by his left.
“I came to see my mama. What you here for?” Mateo walked closer to the crowd. He was going to have to get through them to make it to her house. The street lights were on, and if this was the mama he had back in the day, she’d have been standing at the door waiting for him with a belt.
“I guess that body slam wasn’t good enough for you.” Turner stood over him and tried to push him back. Mateo held his ground and looked Turner in the eye.
“I’m still here,” Mateo responded confidently as he continued to walk around Turner and head to his destination.
“Well, you know, dead people walk and talk all the time,” Turner bragged as he put his arm around Mateo. Turner leaned over and whispered in Mateo’s ear, “I’d hate for your next trip to be in a body bag, son.”
Mateo faced him and looked him dead in the eyes. “You will go to hell in one before I’m called home to my Maker.” Then he grinned.
Turner was pissed off. Mateo held his guard and tried to find all of his nemeses discreetly without taking his eyes off Turner. All were still present and accounted for.
“You and that Hammer seem so sure of this God you’re serving.” Turner got in his face again. “If this God you got is so big, why do I rule the world?”
“You really think this world is yours?” Mateo replied. “Satan has your mind warped even worse than I thought. The evil-doer is only using you for a period of time. When he’s done with you, you’ll be disappointed in who your ‘successor’ is.”
Turner chuckled and laughed, but he moved out of the way to let Mateo pass through the crowd. They parted on each side like Moses used the staff to part the Red Sea.
“I am Turner Mustafa Spartenburg,” he bragged. His drunken nature became apparent as he slurred his last name. “I’m going to live forever.”
“I pray that you do.” Mateo made it to the front door of his childhood home. “I pray that forever for you means an eternity in Christ and not a lifetime of torture and pain.”
Mateo knocked on the door. He could hear Turner mimicking and cursing him. Like the followers they were, his crowd of cronies and crowd pleasers gave their support by laughing and clapping. As Mateo knocked on the door again, he thanked God for getting him out of that situation unscathed, and that despite ignoring the warning from God to turn around, his Maker saw it fit to keep him in one piece.
“Hijo!” Mateo’s mother was excited as she hugged her son.
“Sí, Madre, es mío.” Mateo entered her home safe from harm.
Not only was he being comforted by the arms of his mother, but he was being protected by the arms of God.
Chapter Twenty-five
La Casa
Inside Mateo’s mother’s home, he could smell the arroz con pollo that she had cooked earlier. The pot of red kidney beans made its presence known too—along with the jalapeño pepper. He couldn’t tell whether his older brother had been over, but he knew his young sister was around the apartment complex somewhere.
He didn’t even want to know what she was doing. Julio and Luisa were into mischief, which would explain why they were both MIA during Mateo’s two visits to the hospital. In Luisa’s case, she was still a teenager and was acting her age, but Julio had a few years on Mateo and should’ve known better.
“¿Quieres comer?” His mother led him into the kitchen. “I have some mango and pineapple juice in the refrigerator.”
“No, I’m not hungry.” Mateo answered the question his mother asked him in Spanish. “Where’s Julio and Luisa?”
His mother smacked her lips and mumbled something in Spanish that translated to Luisa being a whore in someone’s home down the street. She went on about how disappointed she was because she didn’t raise her daughter to disgrace her name, nor did she honor her sons being hood rats.
“I should’ve kept y’all in the iglesia,” his mother answered aloud, referring to the church.
“Madre, you can’t fault yourself for how any of us turned out,” Mateo commented. “And besides, I go to Guiding Light Ministries now.”
That put a smile on his mother’s face. It wasn’t a Catholic church, but his mother was well pleased. “I can die an honorable woman knowing that at least one of my children is going to heaven.” She gave him another hug. “This gives me motivation to continue to pray for the other two.”
“Aw, Madre.” Mateo hugged her back. “You know you love us.”
“I do.” She went into the refrigerator and pulled out the pot that Mateo was sure held the arroz con pollo. Even though he had just told his mother he wasn’t hungry, she had fixed him a plate anyway, along with a smaller plate for herself. “You come to my house looking hungry, like you haven’t eaten in days.” She placed what he presumed to be his plate in the microwave.
“Naw, Ma.” He noticed the past-due bills that floated across the dinner table. Mateo knew that ever since she’d fought off cancer when he hit puberty, money was always tight around the house. When Mateo and Julio ran the streets, they brought back what they could to help her out; yet they shared the same fate millions of families in America had, drowning in debt.
“I just came from a date with a nice young lady,” Mateo told her. “I think I’ll bring her by in a few weeks; let you meet her.”
“I hope she’s a nice woman.” His mother placed his plate in front of him. Then she went to the other side of the table, across from him. “I hope she’s better than that woman of the night Julio is probably entertaining upstairs, or that married woman I seen you chasing around like a dog in heat.”
Mateo shook the guilt from his head. He hated that his mother hadn’t thought good things about him and that he kept her worried. The last time he’d seen his mother was a month before he’d gotten shot at and met Hammer. The woman in question and his mother were arguing outside of the woman’s husband’s house, while Mateo was pulling the woman he was sleeping with back in the house so they could do more of the same.
After reflecting, he tried to recite, in Spanish, the small blessing his mother tried to teach him. He knew he’d said it right when the smile appeared on her face.
The last time Mateo had seen Julio was a few days after he went to prison. Julio was on his way out for good behavior. His sister still wore the uniform of the Catholic school their mother forced her to go to, hoping that she wouldn’t turn out to be a hooligan like her older brothers. That hadn’t worked.
“She teaches at Shiloh Christian Academy,” Mateo boasted proudly, hoping to put a smile on his mother’s face. “Her name is Amirah.” Just mentioning her name brought a smile to his own face.
He smiled when he succeeded. His mother’s face lit up like the sun, and Mateo took great pleasure in that. “I approve. You better not corrupt her,” his mother warned as she waved a finger in his face. He hated how his mother could split personalities within seconds. “Los profesores there are good Christian teachers. If I weren’t a devout Catholic, I would’ve sent Luisa there, but I didn’t know.”
“Ma, you can’t hold on to how the three of us turned out.” Mateo reached for her hand. He hoped a glimpse into his eyes would ease her pain. “Julio and Luisa will come around; I promise.”
As if on cue, Mateo heard the stairs creaking. From the pace of the descent, he could tell that whoever was coming down the stairs was running.
“Julio! You better get that whore out of here!” his mother yelled loud enough for the security guard to hear her at her post.
“Ma! I just came down to use the bath—Mateo!” Julio shouted excitedly and hugged his brother in the chair.
“Boy, go put some clothes on!” their mother fussed. “Mateo come in here with a shirt and a tie, and you come dancing out of here with your l
ittle jalapeño dancing out of your boxers.”
Mateo was shocked.
“Ma!” Julio turned away from Mateo and adjusted himself. That’s when Mateo noticed that all his brother had on were some boxers. Mateo shook his head. “Why I gotta be a little jalapeño?”
His mother waved her hand and then pointed to the bathroom. Julio went to the bathroom to do what he needed to do, and when he came out, he had a white towel wrapped around his waist.
“See, Mateo? This is what I put up with.” His mother scooped up the yellow rice. “Every day, Julio and I fight about him walking around the house naked or near naked and whatever woman he bringing over this house, thinking this is his house. It’s the same three or four dumb girls who think my son is God’s gift to them. If they only knew what I know.”
“Ma, please don’t do that,” Mateo begged, knowing where his mother was going to take the conversation. Julio went upstairs, and he was calling out something profane to his guest in Spanish. Their mother shook her head.
“We know your brother gets one of them crazy checks ever since he came back from Iraq. Half the time he can’t act right and forgets where he is. I wish the Army would take him back and fix him, but he refused to go to the VA. The two of you went in and out of jail and juvenile detention like it was your second home. At least he had an excuse.”
“Why I gotta leave?” A random female interrupted their mother as she and Julio made their way down the stairs and to the front door. She was barely dressed, and Julio was stuffing her clothes in a plastic grocery bag.
“Because my brother is here and our time is over.” They heard Julio trying to explain to the woman as he opened the door and sent the girl on her way. “I’ll have to come to your house in a few days.”
Try a Little Tenderness Page 15