Army of One

by A. K. Henderson

  She snatched away, folded her arms, and rolled her eyes.

  “Look, shawty, don’t play with me. You know I got you, and you know I don’t care about having no kids right now, but you need to understand that it’s going to have to happen eventually. You just need to stop being so extra right now. I don’t appreciate that at all.”

  Jelisa didn’t respond; she just looked away.

  “Look at me. You love me?”

  She whispered under her breath, “Yeah.”

  Shamar reached out, pulled her close to him, hugged her, and kissed her on her forehead.

  They walked back into the living room and sat down. Sandra had a satisfied look on her face. As much as she questioned their relationship at times, she knew that there was something about the two of them together that worked.

  Shamar never stopped thinking about that incident. Since he wasn’t the type to fight about stuff, he didn’t bring it up. In addition, with the deployment coming up, he didn’t want to leave on a sour note.

  The plane hit some turbulence, which snapped him out of his daydream. He looked over at Omar and nudged his arm. “Hey, bruh, you think she gon’ be cool while I’m gone?”

  Omar shrugged his shoulders and lifted his eyebrows. “I don’t know, man. You know her better than I do. You tell me.”

  It was finally starting to hit him. What if Jelisa did do something stupid? He had seen a lot of soldiers’ wives creep on them while they were deployed, but he always thought Jelisa was too smart for that because she had everything she needed. He never put anything past her, though. He always suspected she had stepped out. No woman was that loyal. But since he couldn’t prove it, he let it go. Being around so many people having issues with their marriages made Shamar reconsider his views on a woman’s ability to be faithful.

  “Dawg, don’t let that stuff get to you. She’ll be straight. Just make sure you keep in touch with her so she never feels like you’re unreachable, feel me?”

  Shamar nodded his head in agreement. He didn’t like feeling vulnerable, but most dudes he knew got that way when it came to the mothers of their children. Things were starting to seem more realistic the more he thought about the kinds of temptations Jelisa might have to face in his absence. “Yeah, you right. I’m trippin’. This stuff is stressing me out, man. I just don’t want any surprises, feel me?”

  * * *

  It didn’t take long for the word to get out that Jelisa would be coming back to the city. She wasn’t at all worried about what people would think about it because it would only be temporary, assuming they made it through this deployment. There was one person who took this time as an opportunity to finally get what he wanted: Donny, the owner of the Platinum Designs Barber Shop and Salon, where Jelisa used to work on the west side. He was a very calculated person; everything he did had its purpose. He didn’t believe in coincidences. He was able to adjust to any situation. He didn’t think twice about offering her a chair when she asked to come back.

  The previous week, Donny had overheard Lanette, one of his stylists, talking to a customer. The shop was busy, and the smell of hot irons and oil sheen filled the air. With music playing in the background, it was buzzing, even for a Monday.

  “Girl, you know Shamar is going to be gone for a whole year, right? I don’t know how Jelisa gon’ do it,” the customer said, smacking her lips and shaking her head.

  Lanette hated to be in the middle of a mess, and she didn’t have anything against Jelisa. She replied, “Girl, that’s they business. I don’t have nothing to do with that. He’s taking care of her anyway, so I don’t see what’s so hard about it. All she gotta do is wait for him to come home.” That was simple enough for her; it didn’t call for all the extra stuff, and she wasn’t going to add to it.

  As they continued to talk, Donny continued to listen and started to plot how he was going to conquer Jelisa. She had shut him down so many times and stated on more than one occasion that Shamar was all the man she needed. Donny knew him from the streets, so he wasn’t too convinced that she actually knew who he really was. He wasn’t trying to rat him out, but he was so tired of hearing everyone say how good Shamar was to her. Donny was determined to knock her down one good time to prove she wasn’t as committed as she thought she was. To him, women were only prizes that went to the most cunning and skilled players; there was no room for emotions. Something he often said to himself was, “Emotions will get you killed.” So if it was true that he would have Jelisa all to himself for a year, he was going to take her for all she had and make her feel good about it.

  * * *

  That Monday morning after dropping Mya off at daycare, Jelisa headed back to work. She had been planning for a week to come back after helping Shamar prepare to leave and packing up his stuff to go into storage. It was chilly outside; this wasn’t the type of Monday she was particularly fond of. The fall weather brought a sort of depressing mood to the morning. Jelisa woke up with an attitude, so having to go into work on a Monday when all of the other shops in town were closed irritated her. But Donny was also a hustler, so it made sense to him to be the only shop open, and it worked.

  The cool air stalked her as she walked from her car to the front door of the shop. She hoped that Donny was already there, as it would save her the trouble of fumbling with her keys in the cold. Sure enough, there he was standing with his back turned toward the door with Meek Mill playing loud on the stereo. As she walked through the door, he didn’t even notice that she was standing behind him. She found herself admiring him as he danced from side to side until he noticed her in the mirror.

  “Hey, what’s good, baby girl? When did you get back?”

  His grin coupled with his Polo cologne caught her off guard. She got chills out of nowhere, but she caught herself and shook it off.

  “Hey, Donny, what’s up? Yeah, I got back yesterday. What’s going on for today?” she asked, walking into the back room to put her coat and bag away. As she bent over, tucking her bag in the corner of the room, Donny stood in the doorway with his head tilted sideways. She could feel him standing behind her, so she peeked over her shoulder and smiled. “What you looking at? Boy, you better go somewhere.” Jelisa thought it was cute how he often checked her out. She would sometimes flirt back with him, but she always made sure he knew where to draw the line. Donny stood five feet eleven inches with dark chocolate skin and 360-degree waves that perfectly circled his head. His chiseled chest flexed as he went back to sweeping. Jelisa again found herself admiring his athletic build, which was somewhat hidden behind his white tee.

  “So soldier boy’s gone, huh? What you got planned to do with your time now that you don’t have anyone to spend it with?” Donny asked, toying with her as he turned down the music.

  “I’ve got enough on my plate with my daughter. I don’t have time for nothing else. Why you so concerned about what I’m doing anyway? Don’t you have a woman?” She knew where he was going with his line of questions; but the sting of Shamar being gone was still fresh, so Donny didn’t stand a chance.

  What she didn’t know was that Donny was a patient predator. Having been around the military lifestyle before, he knew it was only a matter of time before the distance would be too much for her. When that time came, he’d be more than ready for it. “Aww, baby girl, you know I’m just messing with you. Why you always gotta bring my ol’ lady into it? I thought we were better than that.”

  Jelisa was no longer amused. She was more concerned about how long it would take for her to hear from Shamar. Just as she thought about it, her phone rang. But it wasn’t him; it was her mother, Sandra. Disappointed, she slowly pressed TALK and answered the phone. “Yes, Mama, what’s wrong?” she said, thinking Sandra was being her typical nosy self.

  “Jelisa, you better lose that attitude, little girl. So, listen here, I need you to help me with something.”

  Jelisa grew a disgusted look on her face as she anticipated what her mother’s next words would be. Whenever Sandra wanted t
o borrow some money, she would start the conversation with “So, listen here.”

  “What, Mama? How much do you need? Ugh!”

  Sandra could hear the attitude in her voice, but she had no problem asking for what she needed. “Look, I need some help with the gas bill. I only have a few dollars. Can you take care of it for me?”

  This was one of the reasons Jelisa didn’t want to stay at home with her. She knew that the family would try to take advantage of her getting Shamar’s military pay. Sandra would never admit it, but she actually felt like Jelisa owed her after all of the sacrifices she had made raising her. Not wanting to talk in front of Donny, Jelisa went into the back room and grabbed her purse and jacket. “Donny, I gotta make this run real quick. I have an appointment at eleven, but I’ll be back before then. You need me to pick up anything?”

  He shook his head no and watched as she prepared herself to go out. She walked to the car, regretting she even answered the phone.

  As she started it up and headed down the road, Sandra began to explain why she needed the money so badly. “Look, you know I don’t even like asking you for money but I really need this. I promise I’ll pay you back.”

  Jelisa took the phone away from her ear and looked at it in disbelief. “Mama, stop making promises you know you can’t keep. If you were able to pay me back, you wouldn’t be asking for it in the first place. Now, I gave you eight hundred dollars before I left to go see Shamar off. What did you spend that money on?”

  Sandra got quiet; that was an indication that something else was up.

  “Mama, don’t play with me. I can’t keep giving you money every time you ask for it. You gotta—”

  Sandra interrupted her, “You really gon’ do this to me after all I’ve done for you? Watching your child, picking her up and dropping her off. So what I ask you for some money every now and then? Hell, it’s the least you can do since your father . . .” She caught herself and let out a sigh.

  “Since Daddy what, Mama? Why do you always have to bring him up whenever we get into it? You were the one who caused problems between y’all, not me.” Jelisa was a few minutes from the house when she decided to bypass it and drive out to Pete’s.

  “Jelisa, just forget about it! Never mind, I’ll figure something out. Keep your money.” Sandra was like a highly trained FBI agent; she had an awesome ability to manipulate people into doing what she wanted. But Jelisa was genuinely shaken up by the argument. She always felt like Sandra hated her and treated her worse than anyone else because she reminded her so much of Pete. She loved her mother; but, too often, doing things for her put her at odds with Shamar. He told her all the time not to let her family use her; but with him being gone, her family was all she had.

  “Mama, whatever, I’ll see you when I get home. I can’t do this right now. Good-bye!” She quickly hung up before Sandra could get another word out. “I can’t stand when she does that. God!” she said out loud. The guilt trip Sandra had just laid on her brought her to tears and left her torn between helping her mother and respecting Shamar’s instructions to not let herself be used. “How am I going to explain this to Shamar? He is going to have a whole fit.”

  A few minutes later, she pulled up to Pete’s house. As usual, he was sitting on the porch smoking his pipe. Jelisa took a couple of seconds to gather herself. As she walked up the sidewalk, Pete straightened himself up in his chair. Seeing her put a huge smile on his face. “Hey, baby, what’s going on with you? What’s the matter? You look like you’ve been crying.”

  As much as she tried to disguise it, he saw right through her. “Nothing, Daddy. Me and Mama got into it again. You know how that goes.”

  Pete nodded his head and motioned for her to come onto the porch. “I know what you mean, honey. Well, your mother is a different kind of woman. She is still hurt by the things I did and how I left. Go on and have a seat.” The air was cool and gentle. The morning sun beamed on her just enough to keep her warm. “You know, your mother and I tried to shield you and your sisters from the drama we had going on. Raising four girls wasn’t the easiest thing for me, and I know I wasn’t the best example.” His eyes started welling up as he continued. Jelisa didn’t know if he was about to cry or if the wind blowing was causing it. “I put your mother through hell; and with you being strong-willed like me, I knew she was taking her hatred of me out on you.”

  Jelisa could hardly remember her childhood but what she did remember still carried a sting with it. “Daddy, I know you guys thought we didn’t know what was going on, but we did. I just hate that she blames me for you leaving.”

  Pete took another puff from his pipe and let out a harsh cough. “There’s a lot you don’t know, and it’s not really my place to tell you. But I will say this: my mistress was the one thing that ruined our marriage. I couldn’t think straight whenever she was in the picture. I know that you girls didn’t deserve that, and I wish to God I could take it back.”

  She hated when he used the term “mistress” because it wasn’t another woman he was referring to. He was talking about his heroin addiction. Pete didn’t like to admit that he had a drug problem. It was more comforting for him to say he had some commitment issues.

  “Daddy, I just feel like she’s using me. It’s hard enough trying to cope with Shamar being gone, but to have to put up with this is too much. I’m going to have to get my own place; and even with that, I know she’s going to try to stop me because she won’t be able to say I owe anything.”

  Pete cleared his throat and turned and grabbed her hand. “Look at me, Jelisa. You have to do what’s best for you and your family. Now, there is a reason why I didn’t have a problem with you marrying Shamar. I know he comes from a good family. His dad and I used to be neighbors, and I got drafted with his uncle. Now, don’t you let your mother convince you to do anything that will disrespect your husband. That’s one concept she never understood. She let your grandmother push her to do and say things no woman should ever do or say to her husband. So you go get your own place, and you do right by that man and support him while he’s gone. He needs you more than you think. You hear me?”

  She contemplated what he was saying and she was grateful that he had taken the time to talk with her honestly. But time was getting away from her, and it was close to 10:30, so she needed to head back to the shop. “All right, Daddy. Well, I love you and thank you so much for listening. I appreciate it. I’m going to do what you said. Pray for me. I have to get back to the shop.” They both stood up and hugged each other and Pete walked her to her car.

  As she drove off, he hoped she would really take heed of his words. He knew she was just as stubborn as he was and sometimes had to learn things the hard way. For now, there was nothing he could do but pray. He went and sat back on the porch and hoped everything would get better for her.

  Chapter Three

  Block

  Life for Block was just as rocky as it was for Shamar, even though they grew up in different cities. While one of his best friends was on the other side of the world fighting in a war, Block, whose real name was Darron Foster, was just coming home after losing a war with the judicial system.

  It was the middle of the day about six months before Shamar had headed to basic training. Thirty-three-year-old Darron sat on a bench in the Indiana state prison courtyard, watching as the cars passed. The streets they rode down were the same ones he used to run when he was a teen in the late eighties. He was three days from being released after serving half of a thirty-year bid for manslaughter. The bright sun beat down on his broad shoulders as he sat with his back turned away from the rest of the population, the reason being he didn’t want any of the other inmates to see the anxiety that covered his face. It was the same look he displayed in the municipal courtroom fifteen years ago as the prosecutor gave an account of the events that put him there.

  District Prosecuting Attorney Michael Hanson stood before the court, facing the jury and holding a sawed-off shotgun. Darron sat with a dead stare that
intimidated every juror in the room, dressed in a black tailored three-piece suit, his hair pulled back into a bushy ponytail with a razor sharp line that outlined his thin beard. His dark chocolate skin was smooth and flawless, and there was nothing about this young man that fit the stereotypical description of a killer. His friends and family knew him as Dee Block or Dark Block, a nickname he had picked up one summer after visiting family in California. He had never been exposed to so much sun before, and when he returned to Indiana, he was the darkest anyone had ever seen him. The eighteen-year-old high school student was mere months from graduating when he found himself caught in the middle of an argument between his sister and her boyfriend.

  Attorney Hanson spoke loud with conviction, trying to appease the audience. The jury of middle-aged white men and women who were supposed to be a jury of his peers sat with their minds already made up. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I’ll ask that you would close your eyes and go back with me to the night in question. After a night of partying, drinking, and smoking, the deceased Joshua Townsend and his longtime girlfriend, Latoya Foster, got into an argument over a rumor that he had cheated on her,” he said.

  This theatrical performance the DA was putting on could have won him an Oscar. The jury was putty in his hands. He continued, as he paced across the room, “Imagine this young man Joshua, an all-star high school football player, is your son. He and Ms. Foster are going back and forth, yelling and screaming accusations, and suddenly things get out of hand. Young Joshua, trying to keep Ms. Foster from striking him, accidently smacks her in the eye, and she falls and hits her head on the corner of a coffee table. She is knocked unconscious, and blood is seen on the floor. Now, Joshua, terribly remorseful, attempts to wake her up by lightly slapping her cheek. In comes the defendant, Mr. Foster, her younger brother, who is twice the size of Joshua. He asks no questions. Instead, he pulls out a sawed-off shotgun from behind the living room couch and shoots Joshua in the chest as he turns around to try to explain what happened. With no concern for the lives of anyone else in the house, Mr. Foster takes the life of a young man who was only guilty of accidently hitting his girlfriend.”