But in the end she is as bitter as poison…Proverbs 5:4a
Khalil and a group of young people from Holy Rock bowled several games, with Khalil’s team losing. Khalil sat around at the end of the last game. A couple of the girls flirted with him, which he was used to. He wasn’t into any of them but he wouldn’t deny that he had shared the bed with quite a few females from Holy Rock, not to mention girls from around other places. He was a good looking guy if you asked the women. His smooth, deep dark melanin skin, flashing smile, and charming personality wooed the ladies.
His mom was wrong when she told him he had all the freedom he needed at home. That was quite the lie. From time to time he sneaked females in the house, which was easy to do because the five thousand square foot house simplified things for him. He also had access to a one-bedroom casita that was on their three-acre property. The only time it was in use was when his parents had a number of guests at the house. His father had caught him a time or two when he was entertaining females in the casita, but Hezekiah basically gave his son the thumbs up when he saw that Khalil was occupied. Having his own spot would alleviate any unwelcomed guests or embarrassing interruptions. He didn’t have to do anything but move his clothes and other personal belongings into the fully furnished one bedroom loft he found in downtown Memphis. The loft had a spectacular view of the mighty Mississippi. He couldn’t wait to pick up his keys next week and move in.
Khalil tuned out the girl sitting next to him whispering in his ear and zeroed in on an attractive, somewhat older looking female a few lanes down from where he was situated. When he was a teenager and heavy into the streets and drugs, he messed off with a few older women. He found them more to his liking because they seemed to be more grounded, realistic and not all hung up on getting married or pregnant. The ones he bedded had a little cheddar and helped support his drug habit. He didn’t miss being involved with drugs and crime, but he did miss the perks that came along with being involved with an older woman.
Khalil was glad, with the help of his parents, that the drug and crime fueled life he lived as a teen was behind him. He was thankful that he had wised up enough to get clean and sober. He never wanted to go back down that path again. He often shared his story with teens at church, especially during the teen summits his mother implemented at Holy Rock when she worked with youth. It felt good being sort of a mentor for younger people.
When his father first talked to him about sharing his testimony of deliverance with other young people, Khalil balked at the idea. He was far from being a speaker unless it was to talk up on some drugs. But, much like Hezekiah, he had the charm and charisma to captivate an audience.
Hezekiah kept pressuring Khalil to talk to the youth and Khalil kept bucking against the idea, until one Thursday evening, during a teen summit for at risk youth and adolescents, after constant prodding from his mother, he reluctantly approached the podium and began sharing his story. When he finished and went to take his seat, the auditorium full of young people stood on their feet awarding him with a standing ovation. Khalil felt invigorated at that moment and was pleased that perhaps he had helped to make a positive difference in someone’s life. It was also at that moment that Hezekiah felt the prompting of the Holy Spirit to place Khalil in the position of assistant youth director. It was a decision that Hezekiah had not regretted. Within a year of being off drugs, and living in Memphis, Khalil had made a complete about face.
When his father promoted him to Youth Director of Holy Rock a few months ago, Khalil knew that it was nothing short of a miracle for his life to be as magnificent as it was now. He smiled as he reverted his thoughts to the mysterious woman at the end of the lane. Slightly pushing off the girl who had been all up in his ear, Khalil excused himself and walked toward the woman when he saw her get up and go to the food court by herself. Game on, he thought.
Khalil increased his pace when he saw her retrieve her beverage from the automated dispenser, turn around, start walking with it…and then drop it. One hand rose in frustration mid-air, a menacing frown instantly replaced the tempting smile he’d seen minutes earlier.
After three, maybe four, giant leap-like steps, Khalil was at her side offering his assistance. “Let me help you with that.”
She looked at him and her smile accentuated her large, perfectly made up brown eyes and arched brows. The lady didn’t object to Khalil’s offer. “Thank you,” she said, her voice soft but less confident than he would have imagined.
“What was in your cup?” Khalil asked.
“Sugar free lemonade.”
“Sugar free lemonade, huh. Yeah, I’m sure you’re plenty sweet already. I’ll be right back.” Khalil walked past her, went to the restaurant counter, and informed one of the restaurant employees about the mishap. He returned shortly, thereafter, with another lemonade. “Here you go,” he offered, extending the cup toward her.
She received it with a smile. “Thank you again. That was so nice of you. My name is Dee.”
“I’m Khalil,” he countered. “Anytime, Dee.”