by Dijorn Moss
Once Will entered the parking lot, he did not have any trouble spotting Jamal’s Camaro. The sound the engine made when Will turned on the ignition let the driver know that this car was not built for an amateur. Will was not an amateur, and his past as a car thief proved that he could handle a car. If he found himself in a tight spot, he had the tools to maneuver out of it with the right kind of car. Will sped out of the parking lot and raced along Long Beach Boulevard. It was a long shot that his mother was at the house in Will’s vision. It was a chance he was willing to take, though.
The house Will used to go to with his mother when he was a kid could’ve been a crack house or a friend’s house. So long as his mother and sister were there, Will couldn’t care less. It took Will about ten minutes to get to Artesia, and when he reached the street, he made a sharp left toward the area where the 710 and the 91 crossed. Will had just got past the freeways when he saw a liquor store and a small neighborhood to the right. He made a right turn, and at the end of the block was the brown house he had envisioned.
It would’ve been a shame if Will had used his mind to tap into forgotten memories and pull forth an image of a hot spot for his mom, only for his mom not to be there. Will parked the car along the side of the street facing the house. The house was at a dead end, so Will would have to do a U-turn to get out. As he approached the house, Will could tell that it had once been a luxurious two-story. Now it would be a prime location for inner-city dramas and horror films.
Will arrived at the door and gave a solid knock, which might have been misinterpreted as coming from the police. Will heard rumbling and the sound of things being rearranged.
“Who is it?” a woman yelled from the other side of the door.
“It’s Will, Carroll’s son.”
More rumbling ensued before the door opened and a heavy woman with gap teeth smiled at Will. “My, my, you’ve turned into one fine young man. You don’t remember me, do you? I’m your Auntie Pat.”
“I’m sorry I don’t.” What Will did remember was that he didn’t have an auntie named Pat. “Is my mother here?”
The woman didn’t answer. She just opened the door wider and extended her hand for Will to come in. Will had thought his parents’ house was foul-smelling, but their house didn’t have anything on this place. He entered the living room, and there was his mother, in the same position as in his memories, on the couch, high.
“Hey, baby,” his mom said with her eyes half closed.
“Mom, where’s Elisha?”
“She’s running around here somewhere.” She pointed lazily in a random direction.
“She’s in the back room, just past the stairs.” The heavyset woman pointed Will in the right direction.
Will made his way toward the back room, and along the way, he passed a couple that had forgotten to close the door before they got into having sex. The smell grew worse as Will reached the back room, where his sister was. Will opened the door and nearly tripped over the numerous toys on the floor, and there was his sister, Elisha, asleep. Peaceful. He didn’t want to wake her, but he didn’t want her to stay in that house any longer. He grabbed Elisha in his arms and walked out of the room and made his way back toward the living room.
“Mom, we’re getting out of here. Where’s Elisha’s car seat?”
All Carroll did was laugh and rub her nose.
“Mom!”
“What do I need with a car seat? I ain’t got no car. I ain’t got no home, neither. I needed the money,” Carroll mumbled.
“Them crackers put her out and didn’t care that she had a family,” the heavyset woman said.
Will could not put his baby sister’s life at risk. If he was caught driving an infant without a car seat, then he would go to jail and the car would be impounded.
“I have a car seat,” the heavyset woman said.
“Could I borrow it? I’m taking them home with me.”
The heavyset woman went upstairs, and Will switched the arm he held Elisha with and used his free hand to grab his mother by the arm.
“Let go of me!” Carroll said, stumbling around, trying to free herself.
“Mom, we’re going home, and that’s it!”
Will would have to make two trips due to the limited space the Camaro offered. Elisha was his top priority, so Will proceeded to install the car seat in the passenger’s seat His mother stood on the sidewalk, barely able to stand. Will prayed that his mother would be there when he got back, but for right now he had to think about his sister.
Will knew that when Quincy let him stay at the condo, the condition was that the family drama did not follow him. Will broke that promise today, as his mother lay on the couch, oblivious to what was going on in the world around her. Elisha walked around the apartment, getting into all kinds of mischief, which Joshua had to clean up.
“Mom,” Will called and gave her a firm shake.
“What? What?” Carroll opened her eyes and looked around the room. “Who are these guys?”
“This is Jamal—Will pointed—“my best friend, and this is Pastor Dawkins, my pastor.”
“Hello, ma’am. Your son called me over,” Titus said.
“Mom, I want you to get some help, and Pastor has a program that can help you get clean.”
“I don’t need no help,” Carroll snapped.
“Mom, it’s time.”
Will believed that the word time was one of the most powerful words in the English language. Time was the one thing that Will was certain that everyone would run out of! Will regretted how he had used his time for the first part of his life, but he remained convinced that he would make good use of the time he had left.
The front door closed, and Will recognized the sound of quality dress shoes as they tapped on the marble floor. Quincy entered the living room in his custom-made suit, minus a tie.
“What’s going on here?” Quincy said.
Will’s eyes stayed locked on Quincy’s eyes as Quincy acknowledged everyone in the room. “Q, can I talk to you in private?” Will asked.
“Let’s go into the office.” Quincy headed to his former office, which was located in the room next to the front door.
Will followed Quincy to his office, and if the way a man walked was any indication of his disposition, then Will knew that his friend was beyond furious. Will entered the office, where Quincy had already assumed a position in the middle of the floor, with his hands on his hips and a look of disbelief on his face. Will closed the door to muffle their conversation.
“What the heck is going on?” Quincy asked.
“My mother and baby sister got evicted from their place. I found her at some crack house with my sister on the north side.”
Will could tell his statement hit Quincy like a punch in the gut. The last thing Will wanted was to be at odds with his friend, but God had made it clear in both Will’s mind and heart that he should go and get his family.
“Whew. That’s rough for your baby sister. So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” Will shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, you better figure it out, because you know our deal.”
“That’s my family, Q. I just can’t leave them out in the cold. You know that!”
“Your mother is a grown woman, and she has made her choices. Part of the problem is that no one has held her accountable for anything,” Quincy said.
Will had never proclaimed his mother to be a saint, but Quincy had no right to talk about her like she was trash.
“That’s my mother, Q. What’s the point of being a Christian if I can’t even help my own family?”
“The point is you realize that you can’t even save yourself, let alone anyone else,” Quincy said.
“I appreciate everything you have done for me, and I love you like a father figure,” Will replied.
“Hey, hey! I’m already feeling old enough these days.” Quincy scratched his goatee. “I know this is your mother, but for too long your family has held you down
and has made poor choices, which set you and your brother on the wrong path.”
“I know, but God had a plan and a path, and I now understand more than anything that God does not want me to abandon my family.”
“So what are you going to do?” Quincy asked.
“I’m going to get her help. Enroll her in a program and see what happens,” Will said.
“Are you prepared to face the challenges if you do all of this and it doesn’t work?”
The knock on the door was subtle enough to be overlooked if it weren’t for the fact that Will and Quincy had stopped talking. Will opened the door, and his mother was on the other side.
“I’m sorry, but I have to say something,” Carroll said
“No, you don’t, Mom. Just go back into the living room, and I’ll be there in a second.”
“No, I’m not. I’m your mother, and though I haven’t been much of a mother to you, I’m going to say something,” Carroll replied in a sharp tone.
Will’s stomach turned, because his mother had never been aggressive and Quincy never minced words.
“I appreciate all that you’ve done for my son, and I know that you didn’t have to do any of it,” Carroll began.
“Will is a good kid, and he loves you dearly. I hope you know that,” Quincy replied.
“He is.” Carroll shifted her eyes from Quincy to the floor.
“Mom, I love you, and I’m going to get you help. The church has this program, and you don’t have to pay anything for the program, and we will provide for you everything that you need to be delivered.”
Carroll didn’t say anything. She just wiped a solitary tear from her face. Will knew that his mother was moved by hearing words she had not heard in a long time: “I love you!”
Chapter Thirty-eight
Jamal
One Week until the Wedding . . .
Lately, Jamal had been reading all the Bible verses that related to courage. He had discovered that courage was the ability to carry out an action with confidence in spite of enormous obstacles. It took courage on both Chantel’s and Jamal’s part to walk up the driveway of the Atkinses’ home. Jamir took Jamal by the hand and walked slightly ahead, while Jamal kept a tight grip on Chantel’s hand.
“I’m nervous,” Chantel said.
“So am I,” Jamal replied.
“Poppa!” Jamir patted the front door.
Moments later Gerald Atkins opened the door, and his face did not reflect that he was happy to see Jamal and Chantel, but when he looked down, he lit up at the sight of Jamir.
“Hey, boy.” Mr. Atkins picked up Jamir and squeezed him gently.
Jamir was the closest Mr. Atkins would ever come to being with his son Clay on this side of life. Jamal understood how important it was for Jamir to be in his grandfather’s life and vice versa.
“Hey, Mr. Atkins. We were wondering if we could come in and talk,” Jamal said.
Mr. Atkins did not respond. All he did was step aside and extended his hand. Jamal allowed Jamir to lead the way. The boy walked into the house and made a beeline to the den area, where some of his favorite toys resided. Brenda Atkins, Jamir’s grandmother, was already in the living room, watching Dr. Phil.
“Hello, Mrs. Atkins,” Jamal and Chantel said in off-key unison.
Brenda Atkins was equally as shocked as her husband had been upon first seeing the couple.
“Good afternoon. God bless you,” Mrs. Atkins said.
Jamal and Chantel had a seat on the love seat, and when Mr. Atkins took a seat next to his wife on the couch, the room fell silent. Jamir played with the toy drum set his grandfather had bought him, which sat in the middle of the room. Jamir was the only thing that sustained a fragile line of connection between the two families.
“So what’s up?” Mr. Atkins asked.
Jamal didn’t know where to start. Between that night at the club where Jamal confessed that he had slept with Chantel while she was still with Clay, to this moment, there was no easy way to begin.
“Every time I come to pick Jamir up, I wonder if today is going to be the day when I finally come inside and have an overdue conversation about Clay,” Jamal said, and he drew a blank stare from the Atkinses. “Clay and I were like brothers. No one took his death harder than me.”
“I doubt that,” Mr. Atkins said.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” Jamal paused to try to gather himself after the poor choice of words. The tension was building. “There’s not a day that passes when I don’t wish that I had that moment back. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but that is one mistake I wish I could have back.”
The women started to wipe their eyes over the loss of Clay. Mrs. Atkins cried over the loss of a son. Chantel cried over the loss of a lover. Both men were locked in a tense stare down.
Jamal felt like he was trying to make an ice sculpture with a plastic knife. He searched for the right words that would convey his deepest sincerity and found his stream of consciousness quite shallow.
“I love him, and I didn’t want to hurt him. But I can’t deny my love for Chantel. Even though what we did was wrong and we betrayed someone we confessed to love, I’m learning to let go of the burden of Clay’s death.”
“This is what you wanted to come in and talk about?” Mr. Atkins asked. “You wanted to come into my living room and tell me that you don’t feel responsible for Clay’s death!”
“I’m not saying that!” Jamal replied.
“Then what are you saying, Jamal?” Mrs. Atkins asked.
“I’m saying that I’m not going to walk around feeling condemned for a mistake I made years ago. What I did was wrong, but Clay chose to respond by getting into that fight. I would’ve let him beat me up and be over with it.”
“You knew that Clay was a hothead. Why on earth would you tell him at a club, of all places?” Mr. Atkins asked.
“I don’t know what I was thinking. I just know that I couldn’t lie to him anymore.”
“He loved you,” Mrs. Atkins said before she looked at a sobbing Chantel. “Both of you, and you two broke my son’s heart.”
“I loved your son, even though he didn’t always treat me right,” Chantel replied.
“So that makes what you did okay?” Ms. Atkins asked.
Jamir crossed the floor in between the battle lines and climbed under the love seat, next to Chantel. He had a toy in his hands, and Jamal was reminded that this was not about him and Chantel. This was about Jamir.
“If you feel so guilty, why haven’t you said something before? Why now?” Mrs. Atkins asked.
“Because I was too scared to face you. I was so guilt ridden, and when I discovered that Jamir was not my biological son, that made matters even worse.”
“You didn’t call, and you didn’t visit. We loved you like a son, and it was like we lost both of you at the same time,” Mrs. Atkins said.
Jamal did not know that the Atkinses felt that way about him. A lot of families talked about loving and treating their friends like their family, but the Atkinses truly did see Jamal as a son and were hurt that he left them alone with their grief.
“I learned that guilt and condemnation are tools used by the devil to keep us from moving on with our lives. I loved Clay, and if the roles were reversed, I would be devastated, but I would still want Clay to be happy. I love Jamir like a son, and I will raise him to be a better man than me. Though Chantel and I were wrong for what we did, I love her more than any other woman on this planet, and I want to spend the rest of my life with both Chantel and Jamir. And I don’t want you guys to hate me.”
“We don’t hate you. I just wish that Clay had been around long enough for you to influence him,” Mr. Atkins said.
To say that Mr. Atkins’s words threw Jamal off was an understatement. For years Jamal had walked in the shadow of the mighty Clay. Up until his death there was nothing that Jamal possessed that Clay envied.
“He was talking to me about how you had joined the church and had star
ted to make a change. He even thought about possibly making a change as well. I really wanted to see what a changed Clay would look like,” Mr. Atkins said.
Tears leaked out of Jamal’s eyes without a forewarning. He would’ve loved for his best friend to give his life to the Lord. They would’ve been brothers in Christ. Shame covered Jamal’s face, and he buried his face in his hands. He recognized the warm hand of Chantel rubbing his back and the small, cold hands of Jamir touching his hand. But the firm hand that Mr. Atkins placed on his shoulder lifted the weight that Jamal felt. Jamal lifted his head to find Mr. Atkins with tears in his eyes.
“I think we all have been living in the past, and with this little one right here—Mr. Atkins pointed at Jamir—“we need to come together as a family and raise him, because I know that’s what my son would’ve wanted.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jamal said.
Gerald didn’t response in words, but in actions. He gave Jamal a hug, and Mrs. Atkins joined in and gave them all a hug. For the first time in years, joy permeated both the Atkinses’ home and everyone’s hearts.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Titus
This was the first time Titus would be traveling with his wife, Grace. This would be Grace’s first trip to Atlanta, and Titus wanted to make the trip special. He did not know how his wife would handle traveling with him. Titus was aware of the change in seasons. Takeout had been replaced with full-course meals. A cold bed with extra space was now warm and occupied. Whenever Titus traveled with his relatively young staff, he would enjoy their youthful lifestyle. They would live out of suitcases, stay up virtually all night, and then live off of their caffeine drug of choice.
“Are you nervous, babe?” Grace said as she emerged from the bathroom in a cotton candy nightgown.