Let the Church Say Amen Read online

  Simon nodded. “Well, stop by tomorrow after one, okay?”

  “Yes, sir, after one. See you then.”

  Simon watched as Juan made his way down the steps of their front porch. He stood at the door trying to gather his composure. He and Loretta seldom fought. She was a good, obedient wife. Except when it came to the kids. That’s the only time they ever argued. No matter what any of them did, they were still angels in her eyes. Rachel came home with not one, but two babies, and Loretta still treated her like a little girl. And David. He disgraced them at the church, stole from relatives, and had been to jail. But still, it was like she couldn’t see it. In all his years on this earth, Simon had never felt compelled to strike a woman. But at that very moment, he felt like knocking some sense into his wife’s head.

  Simon inhaled slowly, trying to dissolve his anger. “Loretta, you were wrong. We agreed we weren’t going to give that boy anything else …”

  “But—”

  “Anything!” Simon stomped his foot as he spun around to face his wife. “I’m going to get my money back, although I’m sure he probably done smoked it up or shot it up by now.”

  Simon left Loretta standing in the living room as he walked down the hall and into the den to get his shoes. The family pictures adorning the hallway reminded him of happier times, back when his children were still small and causing him little grief.

  Simon glanced around the immaculate den. Loretta had done wonders decorating their home. Several full-grown ivies sat in plant holders across the den. The burgundy curtains matched the sofa, loveseat, and recliner that she had picked out all by herself. African art hung from each wall, just enough to add a touch of class and not overdo it.

  A great homemaker. A wonderful wife. And a mother who couldn’t see the forest for the trees when it came to her children.

  Simon spotted his shoes sitting neatly in a corner. He snatched them up, slipped them on, then made his way back to the living room. Loretta was standing quietly by the window. She turned when she heard Simon enter. Her eyes looked apologetic.

  Simon couldn’t bear to look at her right now. She must’ve sensed his anger because she didn’t say a word as he grabbed his car keys and headed out the front door.

  Simon grumbled to himself the entire drive to his son’s run-down apartment. David was staying with some woman who lived in public housing near one of the local universities. Simon had been there only once before, when he was trying to retrieve his sister-in-law’s TV that David had stolen. Of course, it was gone by the time Simon arrived, much like he figured this money would be. But Simon still had to go. He had to give David a piece of his mind about using Loretta.

  Simon navigated his 1993 burgundy Mark VII into the dilapidated housing area. Trash was scattered throughout the complex. Boards covered many of the apartment windows, and graffiti was scrawled across almost every building. Children were playing among broken beer bottles and God only knows what else. Being there saddened him very much. Not because of David, but because hard-working families had no choice but to live there.

  David had a choice. He could’ve made something of himself. So what if he couldn’t be a professional football player? He was still good enough to coach high school somewhere. He was a standout player in high school, an All-American. Any of the high schools in town would’ve been proud to have him. But no, after his injury, he decided to drop out of college and turn to drugs.

  Drugs were the worst thing that ever happened to their community. It had devastated Simon to watch his oldest son spiral downhill. Every time David shot up, or smoked something, he lost a piece of himself. David had never been the model son, like Jonathan, but Simon had hoped he would make something of himself. That was a dream Simon had long ago given up.

  Simon looked around for building seven. If he remembered correctly, the woman, whose name he didn’t even know, lived in apartment 709. He eventually found it, swung into an empty parking space, and threw the car in park.

  Simon noticed three men hanging outside the building eyeing his car. He shot them a stern look. Any other time he probably would’ve stopped and tried to spread the word of God to them, but today he was on a mission.

  Rap music blared from the other side of the door. That devil, gangsta music didn’t do anything but add to society’s problems, Simon thought. He banged on the door. It took several minutes before a red-eyed David opened it.

  Simon’s mouth fell open. David was shirtless. A pair of baggy jean shorts hung from his thin frame, exposing his navy blue underwear. There were dark spots all over his arms and his face looked hollow and empty.

  “Dad. What’s up?” David grinned widely, his eyes still half closed.

  Simon felt a twinge of sorrow for his son. It quickly waned, however, when he peered inside and noticed the syringe lying on the coffee table.

  “So is this how you prepare for your classes?”

  Simon pushed his way past his son and into the apartment. The smell of incense clogged his nose. A woman was sitting on the tattered sofa watching Jerry Springer. Her stringy hair was matted to her head. She, too, was frail, with dazed eyes. She looked up as Simon barged in.

  “What’s up, Pops?” She giggled before turning back to her program. It was obvious she was just as high as David.

  “Dang, Mama told you about me going back to school?” David shut the door. “I told her I wanted to tell you.” He continued grinning. Simon felt himself getting sick as he looked at his son’s brown teeth.

  “Boy, don’t you lie to me. You might fool your mama with that nonsense, but I know you ain’t in nobody’s school!”

  “See, there you go again, not having any faith in me.” David laughed as he plopped down on the sofa next to the woman. “And why you being so rude? Tawny here spoke to you and you just ignored her.”

  Simon looked at the woman who was staring at the TV, but not actually watching. “David, I didn’t come here to engage in conversation with you or your lady friend. I told you a hundred times, you are not to ask me or your mother for one brown penny.”

  “But I needed the money. Don’t you want me to finish school so I can be a big hotshot like Jonathan?” David leaned back, crossed his ankles, and lifted his legs up on the coffee table.

  “David, I want a lot of things for you. But as I’ve told you before, I’ve washed my hands of you and turned you over to the Lord.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s right. I keep forgetting. The Lord is goin’ come down here and turn me around. You hear that, Tawny?”

  He nudged her. She tried to lift her head away from the TV, but it seemed like it was too huge an effort. She finally just muttered something and turned her focus back to the screen.

  “The Lord is my savior!” David jumped up and started dancing around the living room like he had the Holy Ghost, as he sang, “My rock, my rock, my sword and shield. He’s my wheel in the middle of the field. I know he’ll never, ever let me down!”

  “Stop it! Stop it right now!” Simon hissed. “Don’t you dare mock the Lord in my presence!”

  David stopped dancing, but the smile never left his face. He leaned in toward his father. “Sorry, good reverend. Look here. Tell your God that I don’t need nothing from Him but a couple of dollars in my pocket so I can take care of myself. I don’t need no saving or nothing else.”

  Simon glared at his son. He wondered what had he done wrong in his life to deserve a child like this. He had always tried to live a good, clean Christian life. Even as a young man, he was honest, respectful, barely ever told a lie. So why was he being punished this way?

  It must be a test, Simon finally deduced. God is testing me and my strength. Simon composed himself. “Where is the money your mother gave you?”

  David pointed toward Tawny. “Sorry, Dad, looks like school’s gonna have to wait another semester. Tawny here has a bad little habit and she just took my money to feed it. Don’t worry, I done already straightened her out and she says it won’t happen again.” He wobbled as h
e stood there, trying to fake an apologetic look.

  Simon felt like it would be useless to argue. David was hard to talk to when he wasn’t high. Anything Simon said now would be in vain. He leaned in toward his son. “You listen to me and you listen good! You stay away from my house. You stay away from Loretta, from all of us. The devil is working through you and there is no place for you in our lives. When you have cleaned yourself up and turned your life over to God, then and only then should you darken our doorstep again!”

  Simon turned and stomped out of the apartment. He heard David mutter, but he didn’t even try to make out what he said.

  Simon took a deep breath as he eased back into the car. He started it up, but closed his eyes before backing out. “Lord, I’m leaning on you like never before,” he prayed. “Save my son. Please, Lord, save my son.”

  5

  RACHEL SLAMMED the phone down. She had been calling Bobby every ten minutes for the last three hours and he still wasn’t answering. It was three o’clock in the morning. All the clubs close at two, so where else could he be?

  Rachel decided to call her best friend, Twyla. Twyla’s boyfriend was Bobby’s cousin. Maybe he knew where Bobby was.

  She dialed Twyla’s number. A sleepy female voice answered after the third ring. “Yeah?”

  “Twyla, it’s Rachel. Are you asleep?”

  “What else would I be doing at four in the morning in the middle of the week?” Twyla grumbled.

  “It’s only three and Thursday isn’t the middle of the week. Look, is James there with you?”

  “Rachel, it’s late. Call me tomorrow.”

  “Twyla!” Rachel screamed. “This is important! Is James there?”

  Twyla’s voice perked up. “Yeah, girl. Calm down. What’s wrong?”

  “I need to know where Bobby is!” Rachel was getting frantic. The thought of Bobby with another woman was driving her to the brink of insanity. Bobby meant everything in the world to her and even though he hadn’t given her the time of day for the last year, she knew that eventually her love would prevail.

  “Rachel, how many times have I told you, leave that man alone. He already told you he don’t want you,” Twyla snapped.

  “Look, I didn’t ask for your advice, okay?” Rachel was pacing back and forth in her living room. Everything around her reminded her of Bobby, especially the sofa. They’d bought it for Bobby’s apartment back when Jordan was first born. Back when Bobby swore he was going to marry her. Back before Tony.

  “Don’t get smart with me,” Twyla responded. She now sounded fully awake. “I will hang up this phone on you.”

  Rachel took a deep breath. “Okay, okay; I’m sorry. It’s just, I need to find him … it’s … it’s Jordan. He’s sick.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “No, seriously. I need to get Bobby’s insurance information so I can take Jordan to the emergency room. Do you know where he is?”

  “What’s wrong with Jordan?”

  Rachel was trying her best to contain her irritation. Twyla was short-tempered and the wrong words could leave Rachel talking to a dial tone. “I don’t know,” Rachel said. “His, um, his breathing is funny.”

  Twyla let out a long sigh. “Hold on.”

  Rachel heard some rustling and James mumbling something in the background. It seemed like an eternity, but Twyla finally came back to the phone.

  “I had to go into the living room. James would have had a fit if he knew I was telling you this.”

  “Telling me what? What do you know?” Rachel was borderline hysterical now. She caught herself before she woke up the kids. She lowered her voice. “Where is that no-good dog?”

  “Rachel, what makes him a dog? The fact that he doesn’t want you?”

  “Just answer the damn question.”

  “Fine. He’s over Shante’s.”

  “Shante? Shante who?”

  “Shante Wilson.”

  “Where do I know that name from?”

  “The Shante that goes to your church. I think her parents’ names are Cleotis and Lethora Wilson, something like that.” Twyla yawned loudly, making sure Rachel knew she was interrupting her sleep.

  Rachel was shocked. “You have got to be kidding me? Yeah, they go to Zion Hill, but I haven’t seen Shante in ages. How does Bobby know her?”

  “I don’t know. Damn, why you asking all these questions?”

  “Look, I’m just trying to find out what’s going on!”

  “Rachel, let it go. It’s not like he’s cheating on you.”

  Rachel felt furious. First Bobby told her that he wasn’t dating anyone and then he goes out with somebody she knows! “Thanks, Twyla, I gotta go.”

  “Rachel, don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Yeah, whatever. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Rachel?”

  “What?”

  “Jordan’s not really sick, is he?”

  Rachel didn’t respond.

  “Rachel?”

  “What, Twyla? I gotta go.”

  “I don’t have no bail money.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll see you later.” Rachel threw the phone across the room and fell to the floor. “That bastard!” she screamed. “How could he do this to me?” Rachel buried her head in her hands and began sobbing. A tiny touch on her shoulder caused her to raise her head.

  “Mommy, why are you crying?” Jordan asked.

  Rachel reached up and pulled her son into her embrace. He looked so much like Bobby it wasn’t even funny. The same little cleft chin and sandy brown hair. Their eyes were even the same gray color. “Oh, sweetie. Daddy made Mommy cry again,” Rachel said as she held Jordan to her chest.

  Jordan snuggled up close to his mother. “Daddy is always making you cry. I hate him!”

  Rachel sat sniffling and rocking Jordan back and forth. She jumped up after a few minutes, releasing Jordan, then racing to the hall closet where she pulled out a phone book. She flipped to the W section, then ran her fingers along the list of names under Wilson. “Come on!” She raced into the back bedroom and scooped Nia up in a blanket. She slipped into her house shoes as she headed toward the door.

  “Where are we going, Mommy?” Jordan asked.

  “Just come on.”

  “But, Mommy, I have my pj’s on.”

  “Boy, it don’t matter, just come on.”

  Nia was still sleeping as Rachel snapped her into her car seat. Jordan scooted in the backseat next to his sister. Rachel climbed in the driver’s side of her Ford Escort, started it up, and backed out of the driveway.

  Twenty minutes later, she was pulling up to Shante’s condo on 51st Street. There had been two Shante Wilsons in the phone book, but one of them was in Pearland, a suburb of Houston. Luckily, Rachel remembered hearing Shante’s parents talk about some property they owned not too far from the church. That had to be the place where Shante was staying.

  Rachel threw the car in park and looked in the backseat. Jordan was knocked out. She reached back and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Honey,” she said, shaking him. “Pumpkin, Mama needs you to wake up.”

  “Huh???” Jordan pulled his head up and rubbed his eyes. “Mommy, I’m sleepy.”

  “I know, baby. I’ll take you home to sleep in a minute. But we have to go see Daddy.”

  “But he made you cry.”

  “I know, but we still need to go see him so he can apologize to me. You want him to apologize, don’t you?” Jordan nodded. “Well then, do this for Mommy. You see that door with the big two and the five on the front.” Rachel pointed to the condo just in front of them. “I need you to go up and keep ringing the doorbell until somebody answers.”

  Jordan looked confused. “But, Mommy, I don’t wanna.”

  “Look, Jordan, Mommy needs you to do this, okay? Just go up there and ask for your daddy. I’ll take you to get ice cream tomorrow if you do it, okay?”

  Jordan looked at his mother. “Can I get chocolate with sprinkles?”

  �
�Two scoops.”

  Jordan smiled at the prospect of ice cream. “Okay.” He opened the back door and climbed out the car.

  “Mommy’s right here waiting on you.” Rachel rolled down the window so she could hear. They were right in front of Shante’s door. Luckily, her condo didn’t sit too far from the curb.

  Jordan grinned with a determined look and walked toward the condo. Rachel watched as he stood on his tiptoes and rang the doorbell.

  After a few minutes, a tall, heavyset woman wearing nothing but a T-shirt opened the door. Rachel frowned at the sight of Shante. That’s who Bobby was talking to the other night.

  Shante looked at Jordan with surprise. “Yes?”

  “Is my daddy here?” Jordan stood with his back straight. Rachel smiled. Make me proud, son!

  “Excuse me?” Shante said. She peered at Jordan. “What are you doing out here at this time of night?”

  “Is my daddy here?” Jordan repeated.

  “Who is your daddy?” Shante quickly looked around outside. Rachel ducked down in the car.

  “Bobby Edward Clark, the third,” Jordan pronounced.

  Shante noticed Rachel’s car.

  “Hold on.” She closed the door and went back inside. A few minutes later, the door swung open.

  “Daddy!” Jordan cried as he stretched out his arms for his father to pick him up.

  Bobby snatched his son up in his arms. “Jordan, what are you doing here?”

  “Mommy brought me.” Jordan pointed toward the car. Rachel cursed silently as she heard Bobby’s voice. She hadn’t really thought this thing through, but it made no sense to hide now. She eased back up into the seat. Bobby looked her way and started stomping toward her.

  “You crazy …”

  Rachel cut him off. “Now, now. We don’t curse in front of the children.”

  “Rachel, what the hell are you doing? Why do you have this boy out here at this time of night?”

  “He wanted his daddy.”