Little Ro reflected on what he'd just heard, leaving himself numb to any type of respect for Roland Sr. or his legacy. I can't believe that! Why did I even let him tell me that garbage? Then he gonna lie and say my no good cheating father said he loved us. Yeah right! That's a joke. If he loved me, my sister and my momma so much, he wouldn't have been cheating in the first place.
His plans for having a good time later were halted as he sat on the porch infuriated, not knowing what to do next. As he simmered, he suddenly had the strange desire to not remember what Deon had put on his mind. It was only one way he could do that and it was to buy something to drink, after all, it seemed to work for his mother all the time. When she was depressed, which was often, facing the troubles of the world, that closet hidden bottle took the edge off and often seemed to put his mother in a much better and mellower mood. So slowly getting up brushing off his designer blue jeans, Little Ro headed down the block toward the corner liquor store where he was stopped by, of all people, Salena, who darted out the alley way after tricking with some old man in a red Ford F-150.
"Hey now, Little Man," Salena smiled, showing her rotten teeth as she squinted, taking notice of all the similarities and characteristics her once upon a time lover and his son had in common.
"Oh, hey, Ms. Jackson." Little Ro tried giving her a small amount of respect since he and Deon were now in business together. "How you doing?"
"I'd be doing a whole lot better if you could just spare me a little bit of change so I can get something to eat."
"Come on now, Ms. Jackson, I know your son got your pockets straight enough to get a sandwich, so go pull that hungry routine with the next mark buster."
"Listen, baby." Salena, now feeling like she and Little Ro were on good terms, placed her hand onto his shoulder. "Deon don't be giving me no money. He think I'm gonna blow it on getting high."
"And is he wrong?"
"Naw, but I'm a grown woman." Salena, already buzzed, clutched the five dollar bill she'd just worked for in the alley. "He can't stop me from doing what I do no matter how much he tries. He ain't nothing but a hypocrite. I mean, look at him running around here playing big bad dope man all week, then trying to drag my black behind to church with him on Sunday."
"What?" Little Ro was shocked as they continued to walk into the store's crowded parking lot. "Did you just say Deon be going to church?"
"Yeah, I said church. Every Sunday now for a month or so he waking me up thinking I'm going with him. He even claims he's getting baptized this week."
"Wow, that's deep," he replied. "But right about now I need for you to do me a small favor."
"Anything for you." Salena was elated he was coming to her for assistance. She knew that when anybody wanted anything from her, they paid for it. But of course, she would do anything to help out Little Ro anyway. "What you need, Angel Face?"
Little Ro reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp fifty dollar bill and handed it to Salena. "Go in the store and buy me a drink."
"You want a drink?" she couldn't believe what the once goody two shoes had said.
"Spare me all the judgmental stares and do what I asked you! And, oh yeah, you can keep the change."
"Good looking, sweetheart. Momma got you." Salena happily went into the store so that she could cop Little Ro's poison for comfort, and soon after, with the change he so graciously was allowing her to keep, she would cop the poison of her choice.
What seemed like hours slipped by as Little Ro, who admittedly was not a drinker, attempted to drown his sorrows by nursing the fifth of Hennessy Salena had purchased on his behalf. Throwing rocks at his mother's empty flower pots, which served as perfect targets, the young man sat posted on the third step from the top yelling out at times obscenities and cursing the name of God, and yet Deon had been racing off every Sunday to go be in this so-called God's house.
Little Ro was confused and his emotions were running wild. I hate my father! I hate him and everything about him, echoed throughout his mind, consuming him with an intense fury and rage he had never felt before. I'm glad that disrespectful bastard is dead! Good riddance! I hope he's burning in hell.
Several of Arnita's long time neighbors came onto their porches to see what all the commotion was about at the house that was normally quiet, up until lately. They'd all taken notice of Little Ro's increasingly blatant and sometimes rude behavior but dared not bring the unexpected change up to Arnita pertaining her precious baby boy's demeanor since she seemed to be suffering from the same un-Christian like transformation in her own lifestyle. They were both keeping late hours, had strange cars stopping by at all times of the night, and not to mention Little Ro hadn't volunteered to cut any yards in weeks.
Seeing the young man acting distraught, Mr. Martin, seventy-one year old neighbor, former friend and lodge brother of Roland Sr., held on tightly to the black steel handrail making his way off his porch and across the street to console Little Ro.
"Hey now," he smiled reassuringly. "Do you need to talk to someone?"
"Naw, Mr. Martin. I'm good." His breath reeked of liquor as he stood to his feet, almost losing his balance.
"Well you don't look good, Son. Why don't you come on over to my house, put that bottle down, and let my wife fix you a plate of food?"
"Naw, I done told you, I'm okay." Little Ro tried stashing the half drunken bottle of Hennessy behind one of the flower pots as he wildly waved his arms, dismissing Mr. Martin. "You can go on and just leave me alone. I don't need nobody's help."
"All right, all right, all right." Mr. Martin reached in his back overall pocket and got out a small travel size Bible. "I'm gonna do just that, son, because I see that you are intent on going down the road of self destruction and defiance to the word of the Lord Our God. But while you taking that hard, bumpy and unfortunately often traveled journey to damnation, take this along with you for comfort, 'cause it ain't never too late to turn back on that road."
The last thing Little Ro wanted to hear about was God. "Mr. Martin, leave me alone! And stop calling me son. I ain't got no Daddy. He ain't care about me, my sista or my momma! He left us."
"Yes, son, that's true, I'm not your father, but remember this," he preached with a tone of certainty in his voice. "If you trust in the Lord, He'll never abandon you. And as for Roland Sr., I bet my last dollar he's up in heaven missing you every passing day. So try to be the best you can be and make him proud." With his quick, fiery filled sermon concluded, Mr. Martin while humming one of his favorite hymns, "Onward Christian Soldiers," headed back to the security of his front porch praising the name of Jesus.
Little Ro licked his lips and leaned back, reaching for his bottle, defiant in the advice he was just given. Raising it to his lips, he glanced down at the Bible Mr. Martin left on the bottom step as he took another long swig.
Mr. Martin watched the young Roland and shook his head, saying under his breath, "That child needs to take his self back to church and submerge his soul into the teachings of the Savior instead of drinking that sinful juice the Devil uses to trick folks to join his Army of the Wicked." Mr. Martin shook his head again, wondering what was gonna become of Little Ro if he kept on the path he was traveling.