Born at Dawn (27 page)

“So, you ran off to Virginia to become a cook,” Marvin said, putting his feet on the table. “You could've stayed here for all of that.”

Cynthia shot him a look that stung like a dart. “I'm not a cook. I have my own restaurant. People do not tell me what to do. I tell them what to do. I couldn't do that here.”

“Why not?”

“Your garage, the boys, and . . .” Cynthia paused. “And the beatings, Marvin. I was too wounded to work toward making a dream come true. All I wanted to do was live to see the next morning.” Cynthia returned to her salmon.

He kept his head bent. He did not want her to see how much he needed her. There had been difficult times like parent-teacher conferences, first dates, and even a pregnancy scare in which he would have appreciated some backup. In order to survive burying his son, he needed her now he thought as he recalled their vows, for better or worse, in sickness and in health. Right now, he needed the woman who carried his name and bore his seed.

Crumbs of feta cheese danced in a circle around Mar-vin's salmon burrito. The scent of the basil traveled deep within his nostrils, causing his chest to expand. The dry rub Cynthia whipped up for the salmon exploded in Marvin's mouth as he bit into the burrito.

“Dang, girl, you learned how to do this in VA? James, you better come out here and get yours before I eat it all,” Marvin shouted.

“I'll go tell him the food is ready.”

Cynthia wiped her hands on the napkin she'd placed beside Marvin's plate and walked to the boys' room, her hips bouncing from side to side; silently she bewitched Marvin with her new confidence and stride. The girl he'd fallen for at a college party had grown into a marvelous woman.
Why did it take me so long to notice?

“Jimmy, the food is ready,” she announced to an empty room. “Marvin, he's gone,” Cynthia said clutching her face.

“Gone? What do you mean gone?” Marvin asked between bites.

“Gone as in not present, was here but is no longer. Where would he go, Marvin? I don't like this, especially with the circumstances surrounding Keith's death.”

“He's not going to get shot in broad daylight. This isn't the wild, Wild West, you know, and he's not that type of boy. Pour me something to drink.”

“Something to drink?” Cynthia marched right up to the side of the table, folded her arms across her chest, and began tapping her foot. “Something to drink? Marvin, you're not even going to bother looking for him?”

“Cynthia, if I ran out each and every time one of these boys stormed out of here, I wouldn't have this,” he said, patting his paunch.

“Marv, I would really feel a lot more comfortable if you looked for him.”

“There are officers on every corner of the neighborhood. May I have something to drink please?”

“Marvin,” she bellowed.

“Let me finish eating first.” Marvin inhaled what remained of his burrito then washed it down with a glass of homemade iced tea.

Marvin took off, kissing Cynthia on the cheek like it was old times.

His first stop was the officer at the corner who was so engrossed in counting the cars that whizzed by him Marvin could have blown his head off.

“Officer.”

“Huh?” the officer said, startled by Marvin's voice.

“Officer, have you seen my son, James? He's the brother of the boy who got shot. He's about six three, chocolate, kind of skinny.” Marvin noticed the blank stare he was receiving and took out his cell phone to show him a picture of James.

“Oh yeah, I saw him, but I have no idea where he went,” the officer said, scratching behind his ear.

“What good are you doing the community if you're standing here not even paying attention?” Marvin preached, regretting having backed the police commissioner's decision to lock down the block. Marvin pushed his way up the hill toward Amsterdam Avenue. A few of James's teammates lived on Amsterdam, so Marvin figured he would begin his search there.

Crossing the light at Amsterdam, the lights shining from within the doors of Mount Carmel caught his eye.
Church lights on in the middle of the day? Maybe he is in there,
Marvin thought.

Marvin opened the doors to Mount Carmel. The sanctuary doors were wide open. Pastor David stood in the middle of the floor speaking to some gentlemen seated in the first three rows. Marvin took a seat in the shadow of the seventh row and struggled to hear what was being said.

“Pastor, I hear you with all this ‘love of the Father' stuff, but my son is about fifteen, and I'm sure that he's losing his mind,” said a burly, dark-skinned guy. “He's got to be losing his mind the way he talks back to me, defies what I say, and he tried to flex his bird chest at me.” All the other men laughed. Even Pastor David chuckled a little bit.

“Be careful, Sean, not to condemn,” Pastor David warned the man. “You have to love him back to health and to a right mind to obey. You can't do that without Jesus in your life.”

“Amen,” a few of the men seated said following Pastor David's remarks.

“You can't do it unless you do it God's way. God doesn't beat us or threaten us into being obedient to Him; ‘with loving kindness have I drawn thee,' says the Lord, which is why the Word tells us to raise our children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Not with all our fury and big, bad, ‘do you know who I am' attitude when we have treated God the same way our children treat us. He said go right, you went left. He gave you a job, and instead of thanking Him, you complained about the location. He picked you up, and you are not willing to do His will.”

“All right, all right, Pastor,” Sean said, waving his hands over his head as if he was shielding himself. “You beat me up enough. Don't stone me with the Word. I'm going to give the little punk a break.” The other men laughed, including Marvin. “I'm going to try this loving kindness thing out.”

“You've done it your way already, and it's not working, so you might as well give God's way a try.” Pastor David looked down at his plastic wristwatch and back up at the men seated before him. “We have a few more minutes before we dismiss. I just want to extend a Mount Carmel welcome to you. The Holy Ghost bids you welcome in this place. Would you like to introduce yourself and tell us what brings you here, brother?”

Marvin stepped out of the shadows, his jaw tight, his fists balled and stood in the middle of the aisle face to face with Pastor David who outstretched his long arm toward Marvin inviting him to speak.

Marvin's Adam's apple jerked up and down as he took a hard swallow before addressing the men seated before him. “My name is Marvin, Marvin Barclay, and until last week I was the father of two boys; two beautiful boys. I know I shouldn't be calling boys beautiful, but they were, and now I am the father of one, and I can't seem to find that one. I don't want to lose any more than I already have. Whatever God wants me to do I will do to save my family.” Marvin fell to his knees and sobbed into his hands.

“Come on, brothers. Let's pray for him.” Pastor David went to the altar and got some oil. He poured it directly onto Marvin's head and allowed it to drip down the sides of his face. He placed his hand on the center of Marvin's head and squeezed it tightly as he prayed. “Dear Heavenly Father, you know this man, you know this family, and you know their struggles. I pray that you would break the yoke that the enemy has around his neck and the shackles that he has around their ankles so they would and could willingly serve you. Lord, I pray you would cleanse Marvin Barclay of his sins and cause him to stand uprightly before his family to lead them back to you in this troublesome time. Marvin, stand up.”

Marvin used his knuckles to push up off the ground. The layer of tears covering his eyes made it hard to see all the faces eagerly staring at him.

“The Lord is willing to perform a new thing in you, but you must be willing too; willing to accept him as your Savior and Lord over and above all that you do. Are you willing?”

“Yes, David . . . I mean, Pastor David,” Marvin said earnestly.

“Then repeat after me: ‘Lord, I accept you as my Savior. Jesus, I believe you are the Christ, Son of God, sent to die for my sins, and resurrected on the third day that I might live again. Please, forgive my every sin, and give me your Holy Spirit, Lord, so that I will not dwell in sin again. In Jesus' name. Amen.'”

After Marvin had repeated the prayer, Pastor David grabbed him and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you, Lord, for saving my friend.”

The clapping, shouting, and stomping that erupted from the men was loud enough to make someone passing by believe there was a full service going on.

“Somebody get this brother a tissue. I think he's having a breakthrough,” Sean shouted.

The men laughed and corralled around Marvin, greeting him and welcoming him to their church. They praised Pastor David for his down-to-earth and realistic approach to their lives and the Word of God.

“You and your family are going to love it here,” Sean said, slapping Marvin on the shoulder. “Yo, Pastor, are you going to dismiss us or what? A brother like me has to get back to work.”

“You work next door, Sean,” someone said.

“That's beside the point. The foreman on job isn't Christian. He would love to have a reason to write me up, and I would love not to give him one.” Everyone laughed.

Pastor David raised his hand straight into the air for silence. “Brother Sean, since you're in a hurry, please close us out in prayer.”

After prayer and a few more handshakes and intense hugs, the crowd dispersed leaving Pastor David and Marvin alone in the sanctuary. Pastor David walked in circles around Marvin checking him out.

“How's Cynthia holding up?”

“How did you know she was here?”

“Sister Mildred told me the other night at the prayer vigil. James stopped in here earlier. I don't know where he went after that. This is hard on him. Marvin, I know you're new to this whole sanctified living thing, but your family has been in the war for a long time. You are seriously going to have to do some praying and fasting to get out from under this.”

“Fasting? As in not eating? Isn't that for professional Christians?” Marvin said jokingly.

“No, it's for all Christians. I'll walk you through it. I'll even fast with you. Maybe we can include the other brothers in the Love of the Father ministry. I teach that class four times a week. On Mondays and Wednesdays, we have a class in the morning for the brothers who work at night and a class at night for the brothers who work in the morning, so no one gets left out of the gospel.”

“Now that sounds more like it, but I don't see why you can't fast for me. While we're on the subject, I need you to do me a couple of favors.”

“Favors? You want me to do you a couple of favors, brother?” Pastor David asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Number one, if James comes back this way, please redirect him to the house. Two, since you're the closest thing we have to a family pastor, I was wondering if you would do Keith's funeral. Three, I'm not sure what Cynthia is going to do, but could you find some time to talk to her and get her focus back on being a wife.”

“Anything else, brother Marvin?”

“Yeah, one more thing. I'm sorry for talking crazy to you all those times. You forgive me?” Marvin asked, extending his arm like an olive branch.

“Already done,” Pastor David said, pulling Marvin in for a hug. “Are you focused on being a husband?”

“Yes, Pastor.”

“I'll come by tonight after my Love of the Father ministry meeting.”

“See you then, Pastor David.”

Marvin walked out of the doors of Mount Carmel feeling full of something he never had in his life: hope. He couldn't figure out why, but this whole Jesus thing had him feeling like jelly on the inside. He resumed his search for his only living son, singing the one church song he knew: “Jesus, I'll Never Forget.” He was full of assurance that if God was able to find him in all of his mess, He could find James on the streets of Harlem.

The sun was setting and not one Barclay man had walked in yet. Cynthia contemplated starting dinner. She didn't want it to get cold, so she decided to wait. She'd taken Marvin's post at the dining room window, trying to probe the crowd for Marvin's perfectly rounded head or the deep waves of James's Caesar. The vibration of her phone on the table disrupted the quiet of the apartment and her concentration. A number with an 804 area code flashed across the screen. Since she recognized it was someone from Richmond calling Cynthia gave up screening her calls and answered the phone.

“Hello.”

“
Mi amor,
I was wondering what I had to do to get in touch with you. You haven't returned anyone's calls.”

“Cheo, where are you calling me from?”

“From the
Sun
offices. Since you weren't answering my calls, I thought I might get you that way.”

Cynthia rubbed her hand against her chest, trying to relax into the conversation. “Cheo, you know this incident has really brought a lot of things to the surface for me, and when I get back we really need to sit down and have a conversation about . . . about . . . me.”

“What about you?”

“You wouldn't understand.”

“But I would be there. No matter what it is, whether you have a mother with a habit, a life-threatening disease, or six toes,” he said, laughing into the phone.

“Cheo, this is serious,” she said flatly.

“Then just tell me what it is. I can't take this back and forth, and maybe this is what we need to take our relationship to the next level.”

Cynthia twisted her head from side to side crossing and uncrossing her legs considering what Cheo had just said. They would need to discuss this. She would be going through a divorce soon and possibly bringing a teenage son home with her or he'd be coming to visit at the minimum.

“Cheo, you know the reason I had to run off so abruptly was not just because someone in my family died, but my relationship to the person who died was extremely important. Cheo, I don't know how to say this. I'm not who you think I am, or what you think I am. Keith, my eighteen-year-old son, was murdered on Friday, and that's why I took off like that.”

Cynthia took a deep breath, waiting for the explosion to come after she uttered those words. Cheo's end of the line fell silent. All that she could hear was furious typing and the excessive amounts of screaming that went on at the
Sun
's offices. There was no way for her to know how Cheo took the news. She hoped she had not broken anything else with her confession.

“Come again, Cynthia? What happened to your who?” Cheo asked slowly.

“Cheo, this isn't something we should discuss on the telephone,” Cynthia whispered into the phone trying to calm Cheo down.

“Yeah, it probably isn't,” Marvin shouted from the foyer.

Cynthia cringed at the sound of Marvin's voice booming behind her.

“Cynthia? Cynthia, who is that?” Cheo shouted into the phone.

“Cheo, you know I love you, and your friendship means a lot to me, so I'm asking that you just bear with me through this. I didn't plan for any of this to happen, and now that it has I have to work it out. Do you think you can bear with me, Cheo?”

“No problem, Cynthia. I love you.”

“Thank you.” Cynthia pressed the red telephone icon to end the call on her cell phone and turned around to greet Marvin and James who stood beside him. Her hands shook as she tried to estimate how much of that conversation Marvin overheard.

“You found him,” she said, clapping. “I'm going to get dinner started. It will be done in a few minutes, okay, guys?”

Marvin and James both walked away from her without a word. Their posture and muted expressions reflected their disappointment. Cynthia knew they both had heard more than she wanted them to. Marvin retreated to the bathroom and James to the comforts of his bedroom.

Cynthia quickly made a plate for James and for Marvin hoping the delectable scent of the salmon she recycled from breakfast and sautéed asparagus would cause their disappointment to disappear. She carried them to the table resting the plates on her arm and their glasses of soda in her other hand. Marvin was the first to come out of the room. He ambled toward the dining room, peering ever so slightly into the kitchen before taking seat at the table with his hands folded in front of him.

“Bon appétit,” Cynthia said, curtsying as she placed Marvin's plate in front of him.

“Did you learn that in Virginia, too?” Marvin poked at her as she set James's plate down directly across from where Marvin was seated.

“No. I picked that up here watching
Barney
with the boys.” Cynthia snickered. “Close the window so the food doesn't get cold.”

“I don't know why you wasted your time setting him a plate. He isn't going to come out here and eat it.”

Shoving aside the fear of James not accepting her, Cynthia pushed open James's cracked bedroom door and stepped into his den. They'd changed the color of the walls. In all actuality, only one wall had been painted over; the one on Keith's side of the room was still painted powder blue. James had painted his side of the room ox-blood red.

The contrast shocked her but gave her the context for the life her boys had lived without her. Keith's
Jet
Beauties of the Week and
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit models smiled at Cynthia confirming what everyone had told her about her deceased son. He was obsessed with women and yes, it was her fault. The only thing that hung on James's side of the room was a photo of him and Cynthia taken when he was two years old.

Cynthia searched high and low in pursuit of at least one piece of the boys she'd left behind so she could put all the parts back together again. Cynthia felt James's eyes fastened on her, but whenever she looked down at him he looked away.

“The food is ready,” she announced before exiting the room.

At the table Cynthia took a seat beside Marvin and began eating as he sifted through the wild rice and rolled the asparagus around on the plate with his top lip turned up.

“Have you thought about what we are going to do about the funeral yet, Marv?”

“Well,” Marvin said, finally taking a bite out of one of the asparagus spears, “Bridget mentioned a—”

“Bridget?” Cynthia interrupted cocking her head to the side. “I'm not paying for a funeral that Bridget wants.” She rolled her neck and threw him a look that said, “Negro, are you crazy?”

Marvin put down his fork. He appeared to be readying himself to tackle this argument head-on. “Nobody asked you to pay for anything,” he barked at Cynthia.”You came in here dropping your card and your financial stats like someone was supposed to be impressed, Ms. Hathaway. I didn't say we were going to do what she wanted. If you had given me the chance to finish my sentence, all I was going to say is that she mentioned stopping by a funeral home on Lenox Avenue.”

“Well, then you should have just said that.” Cynthia rolled her eyes and folded her hands against her chest waiting for the old Marvin to spring into action.

“You know you have an awful lot of attitude when you should be gracious. Bridget was here when Keith died, and she was going around touring funeral homes when I didn't have the strength to or know where to find you,” he said, pointing in her face. “She's been more of a mother to Keith than you have.”

“I brought that boy into this world. I spent thirty-two hours in labor trying to get him here. You can't be more of a mother than that,” she said, throwing her napkin in Marvin's face.

Marvin balled the napkin up and clenched his hand into a fist tightly. “You know my first instinct would be to bust you in the head just like old times, but . . .” His hand shook. “But I am not the same Marvin you left here. The years have done something to me, Keith's murder has done something, too, and God has done something to me. I pray He gives me the strength and the opportunity to show you the change in me.”

Just then James crept into the dining room. From the corner of her eye Cynthia watched James. He stood behind the empty chair in front of his plate and looked down at his father then glanced at Cynthia before cautiously scooping up his plate.

“You are not eating in your room. Dinner is to be eaten at a table. Have a seat,” Cynthia said firmly, reminding James that despite the fact that she had been gone for six years she was still his mother.

“I'm just changing my seat, Ma.”

“You sit right there where I put you,” Cynthia commanded, her eyebrows and blood pressure raised.

“Yes, ma'am,” he said through clenched teeth.

Based on the way that James' hand shook as he raised his fork Cynthia could tell having to stare at Marvin made him nervous. It also made her aware she wasn't the only parent present who needed to be forgiven. Cynthia's seating arrangement was divinely inspired to strengthen the stitch of thread that held them together.

“Jimmy, your father tells me you've become quite a basketball player.”

“I have,” he said, smiling like the six-year-old she left behind. “I've been in the newspaper and everything. I was even on
SportsCenter
.”

“
SportsCenter?
”

“Yeah. What have you been up to?” he asked causally as if he was talking to an old friend.

“Well, I opened a restaurant.”

Marvin interrupted Cynthia's monologue before it got underway with laughter. “She's a ‘restaurateur,'” he said, making air quotations. “She's some kind of big shot in Virginia. That's what she left us for, you know.” Marvin leaned to the side to withdraw Cynthia's business card from his back pocket. “Take a look at this,” he said, flinging the card across the table to James.

James took stock of the little black card and embellished gold letters. He flipped the card over and over, glancing at her.

“You see that? Cynthia Ann Hathaway. She isn't even your mother. She isn't even my wife,” Marvin exploded.

“That's not true, James. My decision is not a reflection of how I feel about you or your brother. It was about how I felt about me and your father and this marriage.” Cynthia shifted her gaze in Marvin's direction. “Marvin, I see you were able to resist the temptation to slap me, but you're not saved enough to let a verbal butt whooping pass by.” She turned back to her son locking eyes with. “James, I am so very sorry—”

A knock on the door interrupted their family dinner. Marvin nodded, directing James to go get it. “Who is it?” Marvin asked, chowing down.

“The devil in a blue dress,” James said as he opened the door for Bridget.

Cynthia brought her fork to her mouth and rested it on her lip. “I wonder how this is going to play out,” she whispered.