Religious Love (2 page)

             
I was at church getting ready for a good time in the lord. I walked over by the brown and gold alter to pray; setting the atmosphere for a great visitation from on high. I got up when the music came on and sat at my seat.

              I sat down, opened my King James Bible and laid it in my lap. I saw him come into the tabernacle. Just like I knew it, he sat down right beside me. I politely smiled, grabbed my bible and moved over to the left side of the church far away from that devil.

              When service had started; he made sure he was the loudest thing in the building. He was yelling, shouting and pretending to have the Holy Ghost. It got so bad that the Pastor stopped churched and had security throw him out after he refused to accept Jesus as his Lord and Savior.

              I will admit that his persistence was funny and noticed, yet I could not respond because he was an unclean man. I didn’t want to get dirty. I had fought so hard to be celibate and not on a man’s thing -to –do- list. I dismissed the thoughts that played in my head.

              The next day I was outside braiding hair. That’s how I transitioned my profession of dirty living into making ends meet honestly.  Me and a couple of associates sat outside with our young ones and watched the outdoor humor. We really didn’t need any TV, something was always happening in Riverside Bradley.

              On this particular day, I was happy but deep down on the inside; a seed of loneliness started to bloom. While braiding my client’s hair I wondered, looking back on all the wrong that I dished out in my life. The questions I asked myself left me thinking and almost teary eyed. Was I good enough to be in a real relationship? Could he handle everything about me? Would he love my children and protect them? Would he be faithful to me and only me? I thought about it and came up with the answer, hell no.  If he did he’d probably be crazy, ugly or something other than normal. You see; that’s what dysfunction will train you to believe.

              My thoughts were rudely interrupted by him. I wanted to teach him some manners but instead I heard him out.

              ” Excuse me. How much do you charge for some straight backs?”

              I looked up and tried not to let my body language speak for me;” 20 bucks.”

              “I got next if you can squeeze me in your schedule.” This man asked of my services.

              I needed the money; “Yeah I can do that sir.”

              He sat outside playing dominoes with the rest of the hood. He kept watching me as I was on my last braid. I felt like he was undressing me with his eyes as they traveled up and down my covered body.

              “You can come on now,” I cleaned the brush out with the comb.  He came and sat down in the chair.

              “Thank you,” he handed me the 20 bucks.

              “You’re welcome Sir.” I grabbed the money and put it in my brazier.

              As I went to comb his hair an odor oozed from his scalp. His hair was so dirty that I could have planted a full-fledged garden on his scalp.

              “The name is Harold.”

              “It’s nice to meet you Harold. My name is Denien.”

              He looked down on his black pants. It was not winter but dandruff the size of snowflakes drizzled in his lap.

              “Is that my hair?” He asked with embarrassment.

              ” Can you wash my hair for me? I’ll give you an extra twenty dollars.”

              I shook my head left to right. I knew Harold would have to come into my house to get his wig done. That was not happening because I had daughters and even though he was just getting his hair-do; I didn’t need project assumptions nor my good being evil spoken of.

              “Look, I’ll wash your hair but you can’t get it washed in my home. I’ll go to yours and give you a full treatment.” I explained to Harold.

              He told me to come over to the towers across the street in about an hour. I reached into my brazier, grabbed the 20 and proceeded to give it back to him.

              “Here you can pay me when I get done with your head.”

              “You keep it Denien. I trust you. I live on the fifth floor; apartment 8.” He got up and went his way.

              I went over to my home girl’s house to see if she could babysit my little ones for a couple of hours. She agreed, and I went home to gather my duffle bag full of hair supplies. I said a quick prayer of protection and went over to the towers.

              I walked into the Towers clutching my bag like a million dollars was inside of it. I approached the old timer’s security desk. I looked at the pleasantly plump gentleman, gave him my ID and signed in on the visitors list. I looked around the lobby waiting for the guard to hand me back my identification card.

              I gazed around the room looking at bread and clothes on the table that read, ‘
please take’
. It was at that moment I realized; it was a freaking old folk’s home. I hoped that Harold was at his father’s house. The people in The Towers usually were elderly, on crack, selling crack or loitering. That was one of the many reasons, I prayed for them at the bus stop that sat in front of the building every morning.

              The guard buzzed Harold’s apartment letting him know that he had a visitor. Harold gave him the okay and hung up the phone.

              “Here you go ma’am,” He said as he picked up a doughnut, dunked it in some coffee and smashed on it until all that was left to do; licked the entire residue off of his powdered fingers. “Thank you sir, have a nice evening.”

              I walked up the stairs because the elevator was out of service. It gave me an additional attitude by the way some of the homeless men, and women were in the stairwell getting high on dope.

              When they saw who it was that opened the door; their hands went behind their backs out of the respect that they had for me. I put my head down; I was ashamed in the same manner as they were toward me.

              I walked down the hallway. I could hear my shoes sing with each step and my heart was beating so loud like serious base in a car. I stood outside of Harold’s door at least five minutes before I decided to knock on the steel brown door.

              “Who is it,” He asked. As if he had no idea that I was supposed hook up his hair.

              “Denien,” I replied hesitantly. I knew what my discernment was telling me but instead of running like hell; I entered his home.

              When I walked in the smell of steak and potatoes filled my nostrils. I sat my bag on the futon looking at this bachelors pad.

              “You ready?”

              “Soon as I get done eating; have some grub.” He offered.

              “Oh, no thank you. I already ate,” I refused.

              “I’m not one to eat everyone’s cooking.”

              He tossed me the remote control.

              “I’m not a dog,” I responded.

              He grabbed the napkin, wiped his greasy hands, got up and handed me the remote. “No, you’re not a dog.”

              “Thank you.”

              “You are welcome.” He said as I flicked to the Word Network.

              I heard him sigh while smacking on the last bit of his supper. He washed his dish and went into the bathroom to wash his hands.

              He came out with a towel and his personal shampoo, “I’m ready Dee. I hope you don’t mind me calling you Dee. I’m good with messing up names.”

              “Sure,” I walked over to the sink and got the water ready, for me to do my job and get the hell out of dodge.

              He took his shirt off, the brother was cut up! It took everything on the inside of me to not keep looking at his perfect abs and his well molded ken doll abdomen. I prayed on the inside for the Lord to cover and keep his child.

              He approached me. My body tensed up by his energy. He was tall, well put together and his grey eyes had me wanting to learn the story behind them. His skin was blemish free and his torso was the same, he looked like an airbrushed model.

              He bent over the sink drenching his funky hair with hot water. My short height made it difficult. I got as close as I could and my breast touched his back. At that moment, the heat from his flesh had begun to wake up mine as it yawned with tingling sensations. I cleared my throat.

              “Are you alright?” He asked.

              “Um yes I’m fine. It’s probably my allergies.” I said.

              “Okay allergies,” he said knowing that I was omitting the truth.

              I got done rinsing and conditioning his hair. We went over to the table and I quickly braided his hair. When finished I handed him a mirror from my duffle bag to look at the master creation.

              “Girl nice” He said as he looked at the cornrows from all angles.

              “Thank you,” I put my belongings back in my pink bag and headed toward the door.

              “Why are you leaving so soon?”

              “I got other things to do,” I answered his question.

              “Things like what?” He asked as he tied the black doo rag around his head.

              “That is none of your business!”

              “Dee. Why are you so cold?”

              “I’m not cold Harold. I have to get back to my girls.” We went back and forth with one another.

              “I was just hoping you could stay awhile; I need some company.” He implied.

              “Company, I’m quite sure that you have someone who can keep you company besides me.” I explained to Harold.

              “Well can I at least walk you home?”

              “I guess,” I agreed.

              Harold put his shirt back on and toted my bag across the street as he walked me home. It was pitch-dark; someone’s bad ass kids had broken the streetlights with some rocks.

              We got to my place, and I unlocked my door.

              “Thanks for walking me home, I appreciate it," I said.

              I opened the door, walked in and he started to follow me inside of my home Stop right there;” I told him.

              I put my forefingers in his chest. “I don’t know you like that to be in my house! That was the whole purpose of me going to your spot in the first place.”

              “Again I apologize, I just thought that maybe,” He paused.

              “You thought wrong,” I gave him my card and closed the door in his face.

**********

              I called Tamika and asked her to let the girls spend the night. We talked on the phone about Harold’s attempt to get to know me better than his new found person of interest.

              If I may be totally truthful with you ladies, I was really trying to get my life back in order. All of that other mess was the least of my worries. I had spent the majority of my life in some meaningless relationships because I was afraid of being alone. My fear was growing into the old lady with a house full of cats. Would I even make someone a good partner? I had done so much wrong in my life. I guess all the hurtful relationship was my Karma and it would make me suffer until the day I’d die. I went to bed with those thoughts in my head almost on the brink of a deep depression.

***********

              Over the course of six months, it never failed. Harold would take his hair down the same day I would give him some infamous cornrows. He had become my number one client. The more I would work on his hair; the more it began to grow down his back.

              The more time we spent together; we developed a plutonic friendship. That was good for me because I had a male friend that I could hang out with, without any strings being attached. There were even times that I would spend the night over his house. We would just laugh and talk about life.

              Of course, I had to explain to some of my associates every now and again that Harold and I were just friends. It got so bad where one of them requested that I proved it by hooking the two of them up. I had no problem in doing so; Harold wasn’t biting her request.

              That same day I went over Harold’s house. This time it was different when I arrived at his home. Harold was on a mission that night. It was that same night that I opened Pandora’s Box.

              He had the place looking like a romantic scene in a movie. He opened the door holding a dozen yellow stemmed roses. I looked at them and I started to get mushy, no one had ever done anything that nice for me.

              “Welcome beautiful,” He said with a smile on his face.

              “You didn’t have to do that Harold,” I walked in and took the roses.

              I inhaled the scent of the beautiful aroma and sat them on the table, “Thank you!”

              The ladies in the room whispered, that was so sweet.

              “Yeah it was very sweet of Harold.”

              “I need everyone 21 and younger to go downstairs with your parents.” I requested because what I was about to say was far too much for their innocent ears to hear.

              “Aw man,” They said as they got up and ran down the stairs.

              I got up and walked to the door and yelled, “Don’t ya’ll get dirty!”

              “Yes ma’am,” Voices echoed in agreement to what I had spoken.

              I sat back down, took a deep breath as I opened up to one of the most supernatural experiences that I ever had in my lifetime.