Latter Rain

by Vanessa Miller

You forgot your first love.

  Isaac sat up and leaned against his bed with his head in his hands. Had he heard wrong? “Lord, you know that my first love was the streets. Your Word told me to come out from among them, so that’s what I tried to do.”

  Go back.

  Isaac wanted to be obedient, but he was weak in that area. All he could remember was standing over Mickey, contemplating killing him and stealing his drugs.

  I am stronger than your strongman. I will be with you.

  For hours after God’s declaration, Isaac lay on the floor praying and crying. He would stand in the gap for the hustlers, pimps, and thieves of the world. This was his assignment from the Lord. He was not meant to pastor a multi-million dollar church or collect honorariums from speaking engagements. God showed him that he was a street preacher.

  He wallowed on the floor a while longer, praying that the end of this journey would not find his soul in hell. But if he did not do the will of God, where would his soul find rest? “I’ll go, Lord. Send me.”

  38

  When Isaac arose from prayer, the moon had descended and the sun ruled the day once again. As he got off the floor, he looked to heaven. “The law of your mouth is better to me than thousands of coins of gold and silver.” The words from Psalm 119 wouldn’t let Isaac go, so he had surrendered to them.

  He opened the bedroom door and walked into the kitchen. Nina was at the stove, putting on a pot of grits. Donavan was sitting at the table.

  Nina gazed at Isaac with longing in her heart. They were still. Saying nothing, meaning everything.

  Isaac broke the silence. “I’m not going to take the job Bishop offered me.”

  Donavan’s head popped up. “Are you crazy, Dad? Didn’t the man offer you a million dollars?”

  Isaac held up his hands. “He only said that it was possible to make a million. The church would only pay about a hundred thousand.”

  “Hello, middle class. Good-bye ghetto. I’m tired of living in this neighborhood anyway,” Donavan told him.

  Isaac laughed. “This neighborhood is my assignment.”

  Nina gave him a questioning look as she grabbed a spoon out of the utensil draw and stirred the grits.

  What could he say? He was tired of trying to relate his hell experiences to people. Nina would probably understand, but Donavan ...

  “Last night, God spoke to me. I’m supposed to minister to people that are on the street. The same streets I wanted to forget all about.” A smile of pride overtook his face as he looked at Nina. “But you didn’t forget. No, you never let our past go or forgot that people are hurting on these streets. That’s what your writing is all about.”

  Nina’s mouth hung open. “You’ve read my books? You never mentioned it.”

  Laughing again, he told her, “Of course I read your books. Can’t wait for the next one. And don’t think I don’t know that Johnson Smalls is me. Just be glad that I can’t testify against my own wife.”

  “Wife?” Donavan and Nina said in unison.

  He looked to Donavan. “Shut up, boy. This is grown folk’s business.” Turning his attention back to Nina he said, “You heard me.” He strutted over to her, took the spoon out of her hand and looked deep into her hazel eyes. “We were meant to be together, Nina. God put us together from the beginning. I need you, baby. Will you please marry me?”

  She tried to speak. He put a finger over her lips.

  “Now, when we first got together, we weren’t saved, nor thinking about the Lord. I had tons of money and could give you anything you wanted. I don’t have that kind of money anymore. And I don’t know what the future holds. I can’t give you guarantees of riches. But, I can guarantee you that my life, now and forever, is submitted to God.”

  Tears creased her eyes. “It’s never been about the money, Isaac. I—I ...”

  He wiped her tears with his hands and covered her mouth with his lips. Lips that said, “I love you, girl. Can’t make it without you.” And with her own lips, Nina responded.

  “Oooh! Donavan yelled and pointed at his mother and father.

  Nina broke away from Isaac’s hold, picked up the spoon and stirred the grits. “Sit down, Isaac. Breakfast will be done in a minute.”

  Isaac turned her back around to face him. “You didn’t answer my question, Nina. Will you marry me?”

  The tears that were only creasing her eyes seconds before were now rolling down her face. Nina shook her head. “I can’t give you an answer right now, Isaac.” She wiped the tears from her face, then said, “Let me pray about it. I’ll give you an answer, but I need to know if this is what God wants me to do.”

  Isaac could understand that. They had been through a lot in the years that he had known her. Isaac was ashamed of a lot of the things he had done to Nina; especially the time he put his hands on her. He stepped away from Nina, not wanting to pressure her. He grabbed a biscuit out of the pan on the stove and took a bite. “This is enough for me. I’ve got somewhere to go this morning. I’ll probably pick up something on my way.”

  She stopped stirring. “Where are you going?”

  He smiled. She hadn’t said “I do.” She hadn’t actually accepted his proposal for that matter. But she was already wanting to know his comings and goings. He could have pointed this out to her, but decided to let it go. “I’m going to see Mickey this morning.”

  Nina looked nervous. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Isaac?”

  “I’m not sure about a whole lot of things right now, but I think I need to do this. I feel like this is the direction God is sending me in.”

  “Just don’t get yourself arrested before the wedding,” Donavan joked.

  Isaac headed toward the door. “I’ll be back this afternoon.”

  Nina followed and caught up with him on the porch. “I—Isaac, I don’t know if you were serious about what you said in there or not. But you do remember that ...” she looked down at her feet, “I can’t have any more children.”

  Isaac lifted her chin. Their eyes met. “I’m only going to say this once, Nina. Charles is a fool. He kissed her soft moist lips. “See you when I get back.”

  39

  Walking toward the visitor’s area, wicked memories reeked havoc on Isaac’s mind. Mickey had been fifteen years old when Isaac gave him his first job as a runner.

  They met at the BP station on the corner of Salem and Grand. “Help me out, Isaac,” Mickey had begged him. “My mom is selling her food stamps to buy dope while me and my sister starve to death. You’ve got to give me a job. How else are we going to eat?”

  Spoony had shown Isaac the ropes when he was a little younger than Mickey was at the time. Isaac thought, why not give the kid a break? Throw him some change so he can eat while his trifflin’ mama was firing up her crack pipe. “Okay, kid. Meet me right here every Friday morning around nine. That was the start of it.

  At fifteen, Mickey worked harder than any of Isaac’s other runners. Most of his other runners were either on crack themselves, or smoking tree-loads of marijuana.

  The only problem Isaac had out of Mickey was when he told him to stop selling to his own mother.

  Mickey became angry and told Isaac, “Her money spends just as good as anybody else’s.”

  “That’s not the point,” Isaac had tried to reason with him. “She’s your mother.”

  Mickey’s beady little eyes rolled upward. “She’s a customer.”

  Isaac threatened Mickey. “If word gets back to me that you sold another piece of crack to your mother, you are through working for me.”

  Other than Mickey’s mama drama dysfunction, he and Isaac worked well together. Isaac had even given Mickey his own territory before he went off to jail. That piece of territory sprouted into Mickey’s crazed need to have it all.

  Isaac had taught his protégé well. Maybe Mickey was right when he suggested that Isaac wanted him dead because he was tired of looking at himself.

  Taking a seat in the visitation room, Isaac waited fo
r them to bring Mickey out. What am I supposed to say to this man, Lord? His anger over what Mickey had done to his family had not totally subsided. But they were going for the death penalty; Mickey would pay the ultimate price for his sins. What was left for Isaac to hold over his head?

  Isaac heard the familiar clang of the prison doors opening and closing. Mickey was escorted into the opposite room. They would communicate through a glass divider. “How you doing, Isaac asked when Mickey sat down.

  “I’ve been better. How are things going for you? Is the family doing okay,” Mickey asked as if he had nothing to do with any problems Isaac’s family had.

  “Yeah, Mickey, they’re doing fine,” Isaac said in a calm, even voice which belied his true happiness concerning Nina and Donavan’s state of well being.

  Sadness invaded Mickey’s eyes and he slumped in his seat. “I’m real sorry about—you know—what I did. I just didn’t think they mattered all that much to you. I wouldn’t have hurt you for the world, Isaac.”

  Isaac believed that, in some sick twisted way, Mickey meant what he said. “I’m trying to let the whole thing go, Mickey. I forgive you.” Just saying those three simple words—words that Isaac had denied every person who had ever wronged him—sent a wave of peace oscillating through Isaac’s very being. He could do this—God’s will.

  For the first time in a long while, Isaac wished he knew what kind of madness went on in Mickey’s childhood to cause his mind to snap. Isaac wished he could have helped rather than been the catalyst that brought him where he was today. “Has any of your family been to see you, Mickey?”

  He shrugged. “My crackhead mom came out here. She put on a good crocodile tear show, then she asked me to tell her where I keep my money.” Mickey sat up in his chair. “I spit on her.” He laughed. “Well, I spit on this glass, but she got the message.”

  Isaac was silent, still trying to figure out what to say to this man.

  Mickey snapped his finger as he asked Isaac, “Hey, remember when Ray-Ray tried to take your turf?”

  Isaac nodded.

  “That fat fool thought he could take some of your turf. Man, I wish I could have seen his face when you came down on him with some of that Black on Black crime.”

  This was his chance. Come on, Isaac don’t blow it. “Do you know what I wish?”

  “That you would have shot Ray-Ray, instead of Keith coming off like the hero.”

  Isaac shook his head and let the pain of life show through his eyes. “I wish I could go back to that time. Wish I could have just left it alone like Keith suggested. I wish that Ray-Ray were still alive.”

  Confusion spread across Mickey’s face. “Why would you wish a dumb thing like that?”

  “Because, Mickey, hustlers don’t get special treatment in the hereafter. If you die in the game, you wake up in hell.”

  Mickey put his arms behind his head and relaxed. “I live in hell everyday. The hell you speak of would be like a Jamaican vacation.”

  No sense trying to talk Mickey out of his pleasant hell vacation. He would believe that nonsense until he burst through that great hot tunnel. The agony of life without God—no turning back, no second chances—would convince him that he’d been wrong.

  “Mickey, have you ever thought about God and His great love for us?”

  “Please man, don’t make me cuss you out. God played His last joke on me when He gave me that crackhead for a mom.”

  Isaac thought about his father and his hatred of him. He came to the conclusion this morning that he wasn’t the only one who’d experienced tragedy. He had to let it go, and let God work a new thing in his heart. Move on, and quit hating everybody. “Okay, you didn’t start out with the best, but God loves you. And He desires only good for you.”

  “News flash, Isaac. I’m off God’s Christmas list.”

  Isaac wondered if things would have been different had he tried to talk to Mickey about the Lord the day he was released from jail. He was wondering about a lot of things lately. Like, had it really been God’s will for him to leave with Bishop Sumler, or had God sent Mickey to him? He had been so busy trying to get away from his former life and trying to become a better person that he didn’t think about what Mickey or anyone else like him needed. Looking back over the years that he’d been out of prison, Isaac realized that he hadn’t become that much better. Yes, he loved the Lord, but he still harbored so much unforgiveness in his heart. Sighing heavily, Isaac tried again. “God forgives our sins, Mickey.”

  Mickey waved him off. “Look, man, you might need all that weak kneed bowing down to Jesus stuff to ease your guilt, but I’m all right with who I am.”

  Isaac stood. “Do you mind if I visit you from time to time?”

  “You are welcome anytime. But do me a favor. Leave Jesus on the cross when you step in here.”

  40

  Isaac didn’t know what to expect from his visit with Mickey, but on a scale of one to ten, he’d call it a disaster. Feeling down and wanting to punish himself even more for the sins of his past, he pulled his car into an empty lot on the corner of Broadway and Riverview where he first started his business. He got out of the car and stood at the corner; the very spot he had proclaimed as his Promised Land. The very place he ruled like he was some kind of god.

  Since accepting the Lord into his life, Isaac hated driving by the area. He had hoped and prayed that Nina would move so he never would have a reason to be on this side of town. But maybe this, too, had been in God’s plan. Maybe he was supposed to drive by this place and be reminded of the sins of his past.

  He knelt on the street he had once ruled. As cars passed by, Isaac received questioning glances, but he was not ashamed. God had been too good to him. God had decided to love Isaac even when he wasn’t thinking about the Lord. God had forgiven him when he thought he was beyond redemption. “Lord, I give this land back to you. This place will no longer be a promised land for drug dealers, prostitutes and thieves. In this place, the kingdom of darkness will come to know you and your marvelous light. In Jesus name, I promise that to you.”

  When Isaac finished praying, a red Navigator with tinted windows and spinners rounded the corner. The SUV looked just like the one Mickey tried to give him about three years ago. The guy that leaned his head out the window, trying to see what Isaac was doing, was Johnny Homes. He had been one of Isaac’s runners back in the day, just as Mickey and Lou had been.

  Isaac waved him over, thinking that the car was some sort of sign from God. Johnny pulled up next to Isaac’s car. The two men clasped hands.

  “Ah, man, it is good to see you,” Johnny said as he got out of the car.

  Isaac hugged him. “I wondered how things turned out for you.”

  “I’m holding it down.” Johnny strutted a bit so Isaac could see his diamond bedecked hands, velour Rocawear jogging suit and Airforce Ones.

  Isaac wanted to tell him that the outer man was looking good these days. But, what was it like for him late at night? Could he sleep? “Sit down with me for a minute.”

  Sitting on the hood of his car, Isaac waited for Johnny to join him. He looked around at the desecrated land and wondered how one man could solve so great a problem.

  The hood of Isaac’s car sank in a bit as Johnny joined him.

  “You look a little down. I hope you ain’t trippin on that madness with Mickey,” Johnny said.

  Isaac looked at Johnny, but said nothing.

  “I mean, come on, Isaac. It was time for somebody to bring that psycho down. The rest of us didn’t want to mess with Mickey.” Johnny shook his head in amazement. “I should have known that it would take the great Isaac Walker to come back here and take Mickey down.”

  Lord, give me the words. I don’t know how to break this down to him.

  “So what are you planning to do now? You gon take over the turf Mickey left?”

  “Yeah,” Isaac told him with a smile. “I plan to take over your territory also, but not the way you think.”

 
Johnny jumped off the car.

  “Sit back down,” Isaac commanded him.

  Johnny obliged, but he scooted farther away from Isaac.

  “Look, I’m not out here to kill you and sell your drugs.” As he said the words, Isaac could hear the Lord once again telling him, I am stronger than your strongman. “I want to take over this area by introducing you to a better way.”

  Johnny stretched out his arms and embraced the ghetto. “This is the only way I know. What else you think I’m gon’ do?”

  “Have you ever wondered what it would be like to live in peace? To walk in your home and lie in your bed without worrying about some guy killing you while you sleep?”

  “Isaac, you know better than I do, that’s just a part of the game. You want to hustle, prepare to die young. I’m just trying to live it up before my time comes.”

  “How long have you known me, Johnny?”

  “About ten, fifteen years.”

  “I’ve always been straight up with you, haven’t I?”

  Johnny shrugged. “Yeah. We all know. You real—what you see is what you get with you.”

  “Then can I tell you a little bit of the truth I know?”

  Johnny nodded.

  Isaac told Johnny that all hustlers go to hell. And that many of the guys they ran the streets with are down there right now, wishing, hoping and screaming to get out. But there was no out once in. No amount of apologies for not knowing the truth will save a hustler from his final fate. Then Isaac told him about God’s love and how he could avoid eternity in hell.

  “Man, if this God of yours loves us so much, why is all this stuff always happening? I mean, you can turn on the news any given day and babies are dying, homies getting murdered and jacked for everything they got.”

  “This is a dangerous world we live in, but God did not make it like this. God gave man the ability to choose. Unfortunately, we choose to pick up a gun faster than we pick up a Bible.” Isaac shrugged. “You can’t blame God for that.”

  “To tell you the truth, when Mickey’s rampage started, I went to The Rock one Sunday.”