Saint And Sinners: The King Angel Child of New York

by Tiana Laveen

  Pam glanced over at Saint, offered a tight smile and turned back to Xenia.

  “If someone pulled me aside eleven, twelve years ago and told me this would be my life, I would have never believed them. I never even considered dating a man that wasn’t black, yet here I am, happier than I’ve ever been, with a biracial man that is half Korean and half Egyptian.” She laughed sadly. “I have three wonderful children from this man.” She shot Saint a loving glance. He caught it and winked at her. “And, with all of that, with how beautiful my marriage is, how wonderful he treats me, we still have our challenges.”

  “All couples do,” Mama Pam interjected, looking down at her lap.

  “Yeah, but sometimes our challenges are a bit different than most, Mama. You see, Saint is a complicated person. He appears easygoing, but there is so much more going on that no one else knows. I’ll get into that in a moment. Let me tie all of this together before I get off track.” Xenia shut her eyes briefly and sighed. “If you believe in God, Mama, which I know you do, then what I’m about to tell you shouldn’t be too hard to believe, too farfetched. You believe in angels, too. That’s why I brought up Grandmamma. Mama, Hassani’s eyes change colors because his father’s eyes change colors, too. It is hereditary and he just happened to get that trait.”

  “Oh.” The woman grinned sheepishly. “Well then, that explains it.” She sat a bit higher in her seat. “Okay, that’s fine. I’m gonna go ahead and take a look around now.” She nervously reached for her purse. “This house, from what I’ve seen, is real nice!”

  “Mama Pam.” Saint ran his hand affectionately along her back. “We both know you know that’s not the end of the story. You don’t need to be afraid, okay?” He reached low and kissed the trembling woman’s cheek.

  “Saint is…different, Mama. The names, how it happened, all of that is not important, and you might just find it confusing if I got into too much detail. Let’s just say, he has abilities that most other people don’t and due to those abilities, sometimes he gets…emotional. Those emotions show in his eyes. I have seen every color of the rainbow in that man’s irises, even purple now!” Xenia pointed at him and grinned, though her expression was tinged with sorrow.

  “Hassani is exhibiting these traits. I honestly wasn’t aware his eyes were changing colors, just like I admitted. From what I was told, that would not happen until he was grown.” Xenia hung her head and sighed. “Maybe it’s kind of like puberty, you know, his body is testing it out. I don’t know. The traits aren’t consistent right now, he is too young, but one day, he more than likely will be just like his father. Mama…what I’m trying to say is, Saint is psychic.” Xenia looked down at the floor, no doubt shocked herself that she just came on out and said it.

  Pam shot Saint a look, her mouth hanging open like a mailbox flap full of junk mail and small packages.

  “Ain’t no such things as psychics!” She slapped her palms against the counter. “You charge $12.99 a minute, don’t cha?!” The woman cackled. “Tell me my future, Saint! Or do I need to wait for you to get your crystal ball and wrap yo’ head in a silk scarf? I’ll wait!” she chided, turning red in the face as she continued to guffaw.

  Xenia smiled and turned away, busying herself with some dishes in the sink. She was now laying the ball in his court. It was time for him to jump in and make a jump shot, try his hand at it.

  “Well, Mama, we tried. Don’t ever forget I attempted to tell you,” Xenia said, pushing forward her last ditch effort, as she clutched a glass with soapy hands.

  “So now,” Pam said, “Hassani psychic too, huh? He got tha gift and he know how to use it! Y’all some damn fools!” She was practically falling off her chair now, laughing so hard she could barely contain herself. “Fine, don’t tell me then! As long as he can see, and he okay, that’s all I care about.”

  “Mama Pam, Xenia and I are not playing a game.”

  “So you and my grandbaby psychic, huh? If that was true, I should kick both of y’all asses to Kingdom Come because I needed the numbers to the lottery years ago!” Pam was delirious with hysterics.

  Saint began to laugh as well, then reached for her glass of water that she’d discarded like an old lover. Dipping his finger into the glass, he then lifted it high, allowing the small drip of water to flow down his digit.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Pam asked between chuckles.

  “Oh, just getting my finger wet so this will go a bit quicker. You see,” Saint calmly cleared his throat. “I discovered that, if I use a conductor, I can read people a bit faster. My friend Lawrence taught me that not too long ago. Of course, that is awkward and most people don’t want you to get them wet, but I’m sure since you think this is some snake oil show, a gimmick, a joke being played on you, you’d oblige me.”

  “Get me wet, huh?” The woman grinned at him mischievously, making him recoil in his seat at the sickening sexual innuendo.

  “Oh, Mama!” Xenia cried, her face wrapped in obvious disgust.

  “I’m just kiddin’! Just like you two, shit! I can’t play, too?! Well, y’all ain’t no fun!” She began to laugh again until Saint touched her heart, the water from the tip of his finger leaving a dark mark on her shirt, and looked deeply into her eyes.

  “Be open…open your mind for me,” he whispered into her ear, keeping Isis steady on his lap.

  “Okay, you’re goin’ too far now. Ain’t nobody got time for this shit, Saint.” Her smile quickly faded as she fixed him with narrowed eyes, up close and personal. She began to squirm in her seat, obviously feeling mighty uncomfortable once she realized the ‘jig’ wasn’t being called to a halt.

  “You better make time for it…” he said sternly. And at that point, the woman gasped and shot backward in her seat. He could see in her eyes that she could feel it…the energy passing between them. Her eyes widened with fear and her lips quivered as he poked a bit harder.

  “Think of something, an incident, a place, a thing. Whatever you wish Mama Pam, think of it clearly, and I will tell you what you are pondering.”

  She swallowed and clutched his arm, as if fearful she may tumble over. The woman’s apprehension was clouding the whole matter, but he grasped desperately at bits and pieces, anything he could hold in his psychic grip. He prayed it was enough to give her what she needed, so that they may all move on with their lives…

  “You just thought, ‘This whole family is crazy and Saint’s been drugging Xenia.’” Saint laughed loudly, but not too loud that he didn’t hear the woman gasp. Pam covered her mouth, as if a burglar were in the house and she were hiding in a closet not wishing to be discovered. “Now come on, Mama Pam.” Saint bit into his lip and smirked at her, his eyes growing more heated as he relished the moment. “Give me something specific…”

  “Sweet, merciful Jesus in the rapture! Your eyes! They’re blue! They just turned blue, damn it!” she blurted, pointing at him disbelief. Her own dark browns jumped from his face over to Xenia’s, then back to him. Xenia kept her back turned, continued to wash the dishes as if nothing at all were taking place…

  “Take a deep breath and relax…just relax. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Saint ran his hand up and down her arm. It was time he conducted the relaxation techniques he’d learned so many years ago in college on his mother-in-law. He was afraid her poor heart might not be able to take much more. “Now, come on, give me something, anything…” he encouraged once he sensed her heart rate returning to normal. And…there it was.

  “Ahhhh, beautiful, Mama Pam. I have it now. She was a striking woman, just like her daughter and granddaughters. Your mother had sandy brown hair. She was tall, pretty as the sun rising in the mornings on a summer day and staunchly independent. You saw her in your mind just now, probably a notion due to Xenia’s explanations. In any case, she wasn’t the best mother though…but she tried.” He smiled sadly, feeling fragments of Pam’s childhood, things he’d never seen before. “Regardless, you loved her so very much. Now, to show you that I didn�
��t get that information from Xenia, I’ll dig a bit deeper. I’m inside your mind. Don’t fight me, don’t run away…let me stay here for just a moment.”

  Pam gave a timid nod.

  “The woman, your mother, was sitting in a black chair, her hands clasped around the seat. You see, this is so beautiful because the very first time I read your daughter…” He glanced at Xenia. “When I told her who and what I was, she thought of this same woman, your mother, and how she missed her so. She thought of a teddy bear the woman had given her and here you are, thinking of her sitting in that chair. That was the last time you saw your mother alive. She was sitting in that old, black chair with the bottom half gutted out. It was a cheap old thing, but she looked downright majestic in it. And…the last thing she said to you before you left her house was, ‘I’m sick, but don’t you worry. God won’t take me until I get one more plate of pinto beans and onions…’ That was her favorite. Anyway, when your mother said that, you laughed and went straight home to make them for her, because you loved your mother despite her ways…but when you returned with her food, it was too late. Strange thing was, you never told anyone that, as you drove back over there, you had a funny feeling. You knew you’d find her dead.”

  Pam hollered out, her eyes immediately burst with tears. The poor woman came undone. Saint quickly placed Isis down as things were now at a fever pitch. He got to his feet and broke the woman’s fall when she slipped from her chair, screaming until she fell unconscious.

  “Mama!” Xenia threw a fistful of spoons down into the sink.

  “Xenia!” he yelled out, snapping his fingers as his wife rounded the counter.

  “Mama! Mama!” Xenia slapped her palm against the woman’s rounded face.

  “She’ll be okay, baby, just get me that glass of water on the counter!”

  A few moments later, the woman’s face was covered in liquid and her eyes rolled back and forth in her head as she leaned against Saint’s chest on the ground.

  Isis pointed to the woman’s face. “Water, Daddy! Wet water on Nana! She wet!” The girl giggled.

  Xenia plucked her daughter into her arms, holding her tightly while Saint helped Pam get to her feet. He placed her back in the chair, giving her a moment. Everyone remained quiet.

  Then, Mama Pam took hold of her cigarette, which was now broken almost in two.

  “Okay, so uh, you one of those psychic people…” she finally said, staring down at the counter, her face constricted in angst. “…And Hassani got tha shit, too. I do have one important question though.”

  “Of course, anything.” Saint scooted closer to her.

  “It’s the same damn question I had before all of this started!” she screamed angrily. “Why didn’t you give me the lotto winning numbers, Saint? You knew damn well I was up there every Sunday wasting my money!” She grasped her purse and angrily thumped him across the head as if he were some crazed man trying to rob her.

  “Mama!”

  Saint grinned and rubbed his sore cranium. He’d taken a second too long to duck, so she’d gotten him…stole his peace of mind.

  “Mama Pam!” He smirked, continuing to rub his throbbing head. “I don’t have the winning lottery numbers. It doesn’t work that way and even if I did, I could get in big trouble about something like that… It’s hard to explain but, yeah…” He chuckled. “It doesn’t work like that.”

  “I need to smoke a damn cigarette right fuckin’ now! ’Scuse me for all this cussin’ in front of the baby but people’s eyes changing colors, talkin’ about my mama, and Angels and money I fuckin’ threw away that I didn’t have!” She snatched a fresh cigarette and a cheetah print lighter; her white one distributed no flame. Heading towards the back of the place, she slid the door open, exposing a patio area. She kept her back towards them as she no doubt drowned in deep emotions she wasn’t prepared to experience. Slamming the door behind her, she lit up, the back of her body in view as Xenia cast glances his way.

  “Well, that went better than I expected.” She burst out laughing, then dumped the remaining water from the glass into the sink as Isis sat happily on the counter next to her, kicking her legs back and forth.

  “Yeah…I have a funny feeling. Somewhere in her mind, she will dismiss this eventually. It is too much for her to deal with, Xenia.” He shook his head. “I could feel it. She knows it’s true though. She knew something like this was going on before she even asked, but she didn’t want to believe it. She doesn’t want to accept it…and she’ll find some way out of it. That’s fine though.”

  Xenia nodded in agreement.

  “I think so too but like you said, she knows we are telling the truth, and that’s all that matters.”

  “Well, truth is subjective. She is going to sit down and figure out a way later to dismiss all of this, baby. She will convince herself we played a practical joke on her, even though she never told you what her mother said to her, right before she died. My eyes turned blue, I let her see that on purpose, but she’ll find an excuse for that as well. She’ll figure she did tell you about her mother, she just doesn’t remember. It’s cool though…” He shrugged.

  Xenia put her hand on his shoulder. “Did you read that, too?”

  He nodded. “I did…Pam doesn’t like to be vulnerable because she is petrified of being hurt. It’s understandable; she’s had a hard life. I saw glimpses of it, her fear, how she was treated as a little girl. Your grandfather, like your own father, was not a consistent presence, either. She’s strong, a survivor. She doesn’t have the desire to deal with this though. It’s too much. Regardless, she will continue to see things as the years pass, things she can’t explain away and then…she’ll have to deal with it. It won’t be me… She will see it from her grandchildren and she loves them too much to stay away from them. It’s going to be hard for her.” He hung his head, feeling a bit sorry for the woman, knowing what was to come.

  “Because loving Angel Children is always hard, Saint. But, people like me, like Mama, we can’t help it. To know you is to love you, and to love you is to know you.”

  He grasped her hand. “Thank you for that… And I love you for loving me, nevertheless…”

  *

  Chapter Nine

  “And this is where we used to play stickball…” Wearing a crooked grin, Saint pointed eagerly out of the window, savoring the view. He turned the corner and continued to make his way down Melrose, taking in the sights—some familiar, some not so much. Raphael cleared his throat, his dark eyes half slits as the nodding bastard fought sleep with both fists. He was losing, but Saint would jar him awake if he had to. He’d gotten the man out of bed at three in the morning and made him drive over to his home, stating this shit was important. Worst of all, he had no idea why’d he done it, but he felt compelled. When Raphael stood on his stoop, his shirt half tucked in and his face balled up like a prized fighter’s knuckles, he knew he’d better have a good explanation for this shit. His other prisoners, Lawrence and Jagger, who’d just got in town to meet with him, sat in the back of the car, gripping hot cups of drive-through coffee. The two men wore reddened eyes from lack of sleep and a desire to cause Saint bodily harm for interrupting their much-needed slumber. Now he had three grown ass men who together could put his ass in ICU if he didn’t watch his damn step.

  “Saint,” Raphael said sleepily. “If you don’t tell me why the hell you have me up this early in the damn morning, I’m going to punch you so hard in the back of the head, your damn eyeballs will pop out.” The man groaned and shuffled his legs about, digging his heels into the light gray carpeting on the floor.

  “Watch what you doin’ with your shoes, man! You groundin’ dirt into my car.” Steeped in anxiety, Saint held onto the steering wheel with both hands, his eyes darting back and forth while he observed Raphael practically doing the Harlem shuffle in his vehicle.

  Not my car…you can’t mess up my car, man!

  “Fuck! Yo! Car! Mothafucka!” Raphael half-joked as he stomped even harde
r, like a child having a temper tantrum.

  “Oh!” Saint smirked. “So now you want to pull a Dave Chapelle, a la Rick James, huh? You’ll find your ass on the corner, man and I’ll let all these mothafuckas out here,” he pointed out his window at no one in particular, “the damn dope fiends we keep drivin’ past, know that you got money in ya pocket and are just dying to give it away!” Saint goaded as he approached a red light.

  Raphael nodded and rolled his eyes, his head lulling to the side as if neck muscle control was no longer in existence for the man.

  “Saint.” Lawrence yawned. “You said you wanted to show us this building you were looking at, that you’ve become obsessed with. Can we see it, please? Jagger and I just got in town a few hours ago, and we’re really pooped. We’d love to see a tour of where you grew up later, but now is not the time.” The man spoke diplomatically, like some fucking schoolmarm reprimanding him for an extended ‘Show and Tell’ session of his pet turtle, Felix. Saint was tempted to lash out, to put the Indian in his place, but Saint knew he was biting his damn tongue and that Lawrence wanted to say so much more, but had handed him the sugar coated version. There would be no little Indian to put away in a cupboard. Lawrence spoke the truth versus screaming and hollering at him; he had to accept it as such. Saint scowled and held the steering wheel a bit tighter.