Church Boyz 1 (Rod of the Wicked)

by H. H. Fowler

  Ellie smiled, as she helped her son out of the back seat and picked up his lunchbox. “Not really,” she told Lori. “Me and ‘lil man have been doing this for a while. We love to walk. It ain’t done us a thing but made our legs stronger.”

  Lori thought that was the craziest thing she'd ever heard. “I can help you get a car, if you want. My husband–”

  “You're so sweet, really,” Ellie said, her voice making her sound younger than her twenty years. “But we’re fine. Besides, I don't even have a license.”

  “Awwh, poor thing,” Lori sang pitifully.

  Ellie chuckled. “It's not that bad, Ms. Lori. We'll survive. We have been surviving just fine. We have food, a roof over our heads, and we have each other…”

  “Well, if you need anything else, please don’t–”

  “Bye, Ms. Lori.” Ellie grabbed her son's hand as if social services was about to take him away from her. “Come ‘lil man, say bye to your favorite teacher…thanks again Ms. Lori, by God’s grace, we’ll see you tomorrow…”

  Ellie hurried ahead, pushing her son in front of her. She wanted to get inside before she broke out in tears, as she'd been doing these last couple of months. The loneliness, the boredom, the neighbors; everything was getting to her. She hadn’t told Lori the truth; the walk had gotten to her a long time ago. She just didn’t want Lori getting into her business. It was the same routine every day – walk ‘lil man to school, catch the bus to work, pick up ‘lil man after school, and then walk back home. It amazed her how her life had changed in five years. She’d gone from a hot-blooded, irresponsible teenager to a mother who wanted the best out of life for her son.

  However, she couldn't do this single-mother stuff on her own anymore, not if she had to live in this God-forsaken house without her sister. But it was just not the house. It was the memories that lingered. Not one day went by when she didn’t think about lil man’s father and what could have been, had her sister not chased him off, as she’d done with all of the men she’d ever dated. It was part of the reason why she was so depressed. It seemed as if everyone she loved had packed up their bags and walked out of her life.

  Shanny, you promised me, Ellie thought, as she kicked off her shoes and sank her tired body down on the mattress. You promised that you would come back for us. Can't you understand how much we need you? Momma gone, papa no way around, and my job at that clothing store sucks. I don't even have a good enough education to look for something better…look at this house. It's so old; filled with so many difficult memories…

  “Mummy, you crying again?” ‘Lil man had seen his mother cry all week and in his little mind, he wondered if his mother had a running faucet lodged between her eyes.

  Ellie looked at him as he stood at her bedroom door, melting her heart with those puppy eyes. She hadn't realized her tears had pressed through her long lashes. She'd hoped ‘lil man hadn’t noticed, but he was as smart and as perceptive as his father. Because very little escaped their attention.

  “Come here,” she sniffed, patting the space in the bed next to her. She'd redecorated her sister’s room with all of lil man's favorite action figures, but he still refused to sleep in it by himself. “One day,” Ellie told her son. “Mummy won't have to cry so much. I'm working on getting us out of this place.”

  ‘Lil man seemed to be running Ellie's words through his precocious mind. “What's wrong with this place?” he asked her.

  “Oh honey.” Ellie kissed him on his forehead. “It’ll take me all day to explain. You are too young to understand…”

  “Understand what?”

  “The reason why mummy is so sad,” Ellie tried. She noticed a slump in his shoulder, which meant something she said hadn't been interpreted the way she intended. “What's wrong, baby?”

  “You cry because of me? You don’t want me anymore?”

  Ellie pulled him closer to her, and looked him dead in the eye. “Don't you ever say stuff like that, okay? I love you, and you mean the world to me. I can't imagine living my life without you. Mummy love you, you understand that? I would do anything for you and I would die if anyone tries to take you away from me…”

  Shanny, I can't stay here a day longer. Why did you have to leave us and go live in Tampa? What's there that is more important than us? Visiting us twice a month and giving us money is not enough.

  “Stay here, baby and watch TV,” Ellie instructed. “Mummy will be right back.”

  Ellie went to the linen closet and pulled out their only suitcase, which was torn on one side, but still had another year's use. She dragged it into the bedroom and then tossed it up on the bed.

  “Okay, ‘lil man, help mummy pack our things.”

  ‘Lil man grinned, nostalgically reminding Ellie of his father. “Are we going away?” he squealed.

  Ellie smiled at his excitement. “Yes honey, we are definitely going away. Far away from this place.”

  Now all she had to do, Ellie thought nervously, was call her sister and convince her of her brilliant idea.

  30th Street

  Dominic believed he would never make it in the entertainment industry as an actor because he couldn’t successfully hide his true feelings. If he was angry, confused, or even hurt, all of it showed in his expression and in his body language. And as much as he wanted to appear as if everything was smooth, calm, and together; for the sake of his boy, Sanchez, (especially now that his sister was in town), he simply couldn’t do it.

  He couldn’t ignore that Abraham had just admitted to having sex with a prostitute and that he seemed to be at peace with it. How would he explain this to Sanchez, who was just starting to like the guy? He would never believe him, then again, maybe he would. Sanchez was more on the liberal side. He would probably say that he understood, and that Abraham was a man like they were – who possessed the propensity to fall into the weaknesses of the flesh.

  But Dominic didn’t want to hear that. What happened to the part in the scripture where it said, “And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them?” Abraham had pounded that into their heads, along with many other scriptures that blatantly disapproved of sexual immorality. Now here he was not reproving anything, but happily indulging in the sadistic pleasures of his flesh. Bishop Paxton wouldn’t be too pleased to discover that his youth minister was nothing but a hypocrite in a black cassock. It would, no doubt, devastate him to the core, as it’d done to Dominic. But Dominic was thankful he had Tayah to talk to about this, because he felt he would have become extremely angry if he had to deal with this on his own.

  He swung his car into the Fox Fire apartment complex and texted Sanchez, telling him that he was downstairs in the parking lot. He’d promised Sanchez and his sister that he would take them to see a movie after his last class ended. They had some time to kill, so they stopped at Applebee’s to grab a bite to eat. A’moree had transformed herself into softer version of Rihanna, with her stylish wig and randy-looking outfit, which was tight around the curvy areas of her body. Dominic had to ask the Lord to keep his mind holy every time he looked at her. Her body held enough power to make a man sin in his sleep.

  After they had ordered and had been eating for a few minutes, she popped her first question at him.

  “So Dominic, what it is that you do?” She slowly sipped her fruit punch through a straw, and kept her eyes on him at the same time.

  He shot his boy, Sanchez a disapproving look. “As much as you run your mouth, I thought you would have filled her in already.”

  “I tried,” Sanchez grinned.

  “And what happened?”

  “She said she’s a big girl and that she could ask you herself.” Sanchez raised his palms to Dominic. “I’ve learned not to cross my sister when she’s going after something.”

  A’moree let out a giggle. “Boy Sanchez, you better stop. You ain’t right at all.”

  “For real, dawg. My sister would steamroll anyone if they messed with what she wants.”

 
“Don’t listen to him,” A’moree said, playfully punching her brother. “I’m not the monster he’s making me out to be.”

  “Trust me,” Sanchez emphasized, opening his eyes big. “I know what I’m sayin’.”

  Dominic chuckled at how well A’moree and Sanchez seemed to get along. “Well, if you really must know, I'm a musician at our church.”

  “Awwh, c'mon, bruh! Tell her everythin'.”

  “That's what I'm being paid for.”

  Sanchez turned toward his sister. “A’moree, listen to me. He's not just a musician. He's the best they've got. This boy right here can make an organ talk!”

  “Thank you, Sanchez…”

  “On top of that, he runs the whole youth department!”

  Dominic waved him off. “Now you’re just talking plain nonsense.”

  A'moree kept sipping her sweet fruit punch. “So, you're the youth pastor or something?”

  “Nawh. I just help out.” Dominic tried to hide his distaste for being associated with Abraham's role. If they knew what he knew, they would realize leadership wasn't something anyone could handle. “Too many responsibilities. Too many expectations.”

  “But you should see this Negro in action,” Sanchez said as if he were campaigning for Dominic's seat in the White House. “If Abraham wasn't my boy, I would have given Dom my vote. He's that good. Everyone loves this guy.”

  “Man, enough with the accolades,” Dominic grinned. “I don't think A'moree wanted a resume.”

  “That's where you're wrong, sweet boy.” A'moree swept a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I love to know everything about my man. These days, I need to know what I'm getting myself into.”

  Sanchez jumped up and gave his sister high five. “You're on fire today, baby girl. School him on how it’s done.”

  Dominic shook his head. “It's hard to know when you guys are being serious.”

  “One thing you'll learn about Bahamians is that we love to laugh,” A'moree said. “We'll laugh at anything, but don't let that fool you. When it’s time to be serious, trust me, you’ll know. We are passionate about a lot of things. From politics to the way we like our conch salad…”

  A’moree paused as the waiter set their food before them. She grabbed some fries and stuffed them in her mouth. When it came down to satisfying her belly, she made no apology for it. She secretly touched one of Sanchez’s legs under the table, giving him the signal to make himself disappear. He got up and made a beeline toward the restroom, to give Dominic and his sister a few moments of privacy. It was enough to get the ball rolling. His sister was a brazen twenty-year-old female who knew how to use her mind on men. If there was one woman who could help Dominic get over his obsession for Tayah, it was A’moree Aliyah Dixon. She had a proven record of accomplishment.

  “So, Dominic, do you have a girlfriend?”

  “Whoa! Now where did that come from?”

  A’moree giggled at his expression. “It’s just a question, silly.”

  “Well, if you must know, I’m not involved with anyone at the moment.”

  “Do you have your eyes on anyone?”

  Dominic’s mind went immediately on Tayah, but he shoved away whatever feelings came with that thought. She was off the market and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

  She batted her long lashes at him. “The question is, Dominic, how would you prefer your woman?”

  Dominic cracked a smile. “From now on, I have to be careful of how I choose my words.”

  Above them in the ceiling, Lauryn Hill’s song, “Ex-Factor,” crooned into the speaker, switching the mood dramatically into a more soulful feeling. A’moree had a habit of staring, which at times unnerved the heck out of Dominic.

  “I love your smile,” she said. “It shows you have confidence.”

  “Do you mind if I ask how old you are? You seem so young.”

  “I said I love your smile. You’re not gonna say thank you?”

  Dominic didn’t know how much more of this he could sit through without being affected by her magnetic charm. “Thank you, A’moree.”

  She giggled. “I’m twenty. How old are you?”

  “I’m twenty-four.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Why is that perfect?”

  “You do know girls mature faster than boys, right?” She pulled her cherry out of her glass, allowing it to fall slowly upon her tongue. “We should be on the same level.”

  “A’moree, I’m a Christian.”

  “Do I make you nervous?”

  Dominic looked around for his boy, Sanchez, but he was nowhere in sight. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “So am I.” She chewed the cherry as if she’d picked it from one of the trees of Eden. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “To be honest, you’re pushing too much at me right now. I just met you yesterday.”

  A’moree shrugged. “Okay, cool with me. At least, I know that you’re nothing like my brother.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “When Sanchez told me he was a Christian, I laughed at him for ten minutes on that phone.”

  “He is trying,” Dominic offered in his boy’s defense.

  “You don’t know Sanchez. That boy loves women. I would not air his dirty laundry, but trust me, you’re nothing like him. You’re husband material. He’s not.”

  Dominic’s eyes moved up and caught Sanchez trotting back to their table, his face as animated as it usually was. Inwardly, Dominic breathed a sigh of relief.

  Sanchez gave Dominic one of those naughty looks. “So, should I book a room for tonight? I could sense the devil was messin’ around in the convo…”

  Dominic laughed. “I can’t believe I’m friends with you.”

  “Without me, boy, your life would be boring as hell. You better believe that!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Please follow me, Mr. Benjamin,” a lab technician told Phillip.

  They walked quickly through the reception area and down the hall to the elevator, which would take them to the third floor, and to Dr. Roger Valoom’s office. The technician opened a giant oak door and beckoned to Phillip, who’d, for some strange reason, brought his vibrant stride to a halt.

  “This way, Mr. Benjamin,” she said with a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to look so terrified. Dr. Valoom will be with you shortly.”

  “Thank you,” Phillip managed, as he took a seat on a leather couch.

  As he waited on Doctor Valoom, he took the opportunity to assure himself that the result of his test would be favorable. His fears would be put to rest, and he would have no need to question his manhood anymore. He looked around the office a bit, pleased to see several certifications displaying Doctor Valoom’s name, which he’d gotten from the Internet. If his wife weren’t so hell bent on having a baby, this procedure would have been the last thing to cross his mind. She had wanted them to book the appointment together, but he was a man who didn't take well to surprises. That’s why it was extremely important for him to plan these first few sessions without her, and depending on how they went, he would decide what course of action to take.

  Soon, Doctor Valoom shuffled in, offering a quick greeting to Phillip before he squeezed his pudgy body behind his desk. He placed his specs on the bridge of his nose and then proceeded to open Phillip's file.

  “The results of your sperm and semen analysis are in,” he said rather nonchalantly. He glanced up at Phillip, his eyes indicating that he had little trust in the forms filled out by some of his patients. “I don't know too many single men lining up to find out the status of their fertility.”

  “Well, I guess I happen to be in the minority.” Phillip didn't care for small talk. He simply wanted to know the results of his test. He kept his eyes glued to the specialist, trying to predict the outcome of something that could change his life forever. “So, is it good or bad news?”

  “It depends on which way you look a
t it,” Valoom said. “Two things. Your sperm density is unusually low…”

  Phillip sat up straight. “What does that mean?”

  “Meaning your ejaculate holds less sperm per milliliter than normal. Sperm density is measured in the millions, which means a normal ejaculate is about twenty million or more sperm per millimeter with a total of eighty million.”

  “How much less are we talking about?”

  “I'll get to that.” Valoom flipped over to the next page. “I see some problems in your sperm motility. One hour after ejaculation, at least fifty percent of your sperm should be motile and moving in a straight line. Progression is rated on a scale from zero to four, with four being the highest…”

  Phillip didn't know if he could listen to anymore of this. His heart felt as if it were beating under the soles of his feet. “Where do I fall on the scale?”

  Valoom peered up from his glasses. “One, which means your motility is not good.”

  “One?” Phillip stood up and turned his back to the specialist. “You're saying I can't father a child?”

  “Don't panic,” Valoom said. “These are only the results of the first sample. You will need to test again in a few weeks.”

  “For what? I don't need to hear this twice.” Phillip spun around with suspicion covering his face. “Are you sure those results are accurate?”

  “Mr. Benjamin, when we evaluate a man's fertility, we consider each aspect of the semen analysis. We look at the whole picture. Each aspect either contributes to fertility or lessens it. But the outcome is not written in stone.”

  Phillip felt a glimmer of hope “That means the results are inaccurate.”

  “No, the results of the first sample are accurate. Our technicians are well trained. I'm saying, it is possible to correct this condition. But you will have to come in for further testing.”

  “Be honest with me, doctor,” Phillip said, keeping his eyes locked on Valoom. “In your professional opinion, what is the likelihood of the results coming out the same?”