The Retreat 2

by Dijorn Moss

Genres: African American; African American Christian

Synopsis

The Four Brothers of God are back! Quincy, Chauncey, Jamal, and Will have become inseparable as a result of last year's men's retreat, but will the very same event that brought them together be the event that drives them apart?
Quincy and Karen have come a long way since the affairs that nearly cost their marriage, but will their daughter's sudden departure from school drive their marriage to the brink?
Chauncey is determined to find a wife, but his exploration of online dating and the social networks just might lead him astray.
Chantel and Jamal have postponed their wedding to enroll in premarital counseling, but as old issues resurface, they are questioning whether they have made the right decision.
Finally, Will is fighting desperately to gain custody of his younger brother. Will he be able to save his brother from a toxic environment?
Once again these men are at a crossroads and will have to lean on God and each other to survive; but instead, they just might allow pride to drive a wedge between them.

Release date: November 1, 2012

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

Four Weeks until the Men’s Retreat . . .

Chauncey was not sure if online dating was the most Christian way of courtship, but he had met a lovely Christian woman online who seemed to have exactly what he desired in a wife. Therefore, Chauncey found himself at M & M Soul Food on a Friday night. He occupied a table next to the window, which would allow him to spot his date, Regina, when she arrived. She was well versed in the scriptures; she did not watch TV, except for TBN, All My Children, and reruns of Martin. Finally, and this was not the most important factor, Regina was Foxy Brown fine. He had declared that this year he would find his helpmate and fulfill his God-given purpose of being a minister. Chauncey had concluded that the reason that Pastor Dawkins did not admit him into the ministers’ class last year had little to do with him dealing with his brother’s death and more to do with the fact that he wasn’t married.

Chauncey knew that Pastor Dawkins would not allow another unmarried man to enter his ministers’ class. The position of minister was too powerful for a single man to handle, because he would have to offer counsel to a lot of troubled women—beautiful women, young ladies with hourglass frames—and that would open the door for the devil to come in. Lately, Chauncey felt that Greater Anointing church had been flooded with scandal, and the best way to weather the storm was to bring the leaders back to the principle that it was better to marry than to burn.

An invitation to the ministers’ class wasn’t the sole reason why Chauncey had decided to date. He longed for companionship. What man would not want to be comforted in the arms of a beautiful woman like Regina? Her photo on the online dating site had a black-and-white background, which only enhanced her glamorous appeal. The Bible was clear when it stated that it was not good for a man to be alone, and while Chauncey enjoyed the company of both his single and married friends, he could not avoid being alone sometimes. He would come home to an empty house every day, and that feeling pricked at his heart.

Chauncey sat nervously inside of M & M Soul Food Restaurant. He had chosen the M & M in Carson because Regina lived in Hawthorne, so the location was neutral for both parties. Chauncey especially liked that the restaurant was right next to the 91 freeway, which would make his drive back to Long Beach much easier. While he waited for Regina to arrive, Chauncey pulled a pocket-sized Bible out of his inside jacket pocket and reviewed some of his highlighted passages in Proverbs.

He focused mainly on the passages that dealt with a virtuous wife and the wisdom that a righteous woman brought to a man. It would be nice if he could bring a date with him to Jamal’s wedding. It was 6:45 P.M., and Regina had agreed to meet him at 7:00 P.M. Tardiness was a deal breaker for Chauncey when it came to anything, especially dating. Regina had fifteen minutes.

Lord, I pray that my date finds her way to the restaurant and that she arrives on time, because I know that your Word declares that we should do things decently and in proper order. That includes showing up to dinner on time. I also pray that she will be a respectable woman that will not try to rush things. Above all, that she will be the woman that you would have for me. In Jesus’s name I pray. Amen!

Just as Chauncey concluded his prayer and lifted his head, a woman entered the restaurant. Chauncey wondered what a woman her age was doing out by herself. Only a few streaks of black hair remained on this woman.

“Hello, Deacon McClendon. I’m Regina.” Regina extended her hand when she arrived at Chauncey’s table.

No, you’re not! The Regina that Chauncey knew from all those online chats through Christianmate.com was a five-foot-nine-inch mocha cutie-pie. Her profile picture had confirmed that fact.

“God bless you,” Chauncey said as he stood up and shook her hand. He shook her hand with both hands because that was how he was raised. He was raised to be a gentleman. He also maneuvered around the table to her side and pulled out a chair for Regina, and the elderly lady sat down.

“Such a gentleman.” Regina scanned the restaurant and donned a pleasant smile. “I love this place. Sometimes I come here with my girlfriends from church.”

“So do I, um . . . This is somewhat awkward.” Chauncey sat down and folded his hands.

“Really? How so?” Regina asked.

“Well, you’re not what I expected,” Chauncey replied.

“I look just like my picture.” Regina tried to strike a pose similar to the one in the picture on her profile.

“Forty years ago, maybe.” Chauncey covered his mouth. He did not mean to say what he thought.

“Excuse me?” Regina cocked her head to the side with her hand on her hip.

The horrified look on Regina’s face told Chauncey that he had said enough. Awkwardness set in, while the sound of food being fried and tables being bused dominated the atmosphere. The giddy conversations at the neighboring tables helped ease the tension in the room. It was not long before the waitress approached with pen and paper in hand.

“Have you guys decided on what you’ll be having?” the waitress asked.

“I just don’t know what I want.” Regina picked up her menu for the first time and started to scan it.

Chauncey seized the moment to ask the young lady an important question. “Do you, by any chance, have a senior citizen’s discount?” Chauncey said, with the menu covering his mouth to muffle his words.

“I’m sorry. We don’t,” the waitress replied, shaking her head.

The look on Regina’s face indicated that Chauncey had been unsuccessful in his attempt to hide what he and the waitress were talking about.

“I’ll have the liver and onions.” Regina closed the menu.

“I’ll have the fried chicken dinner with greens, mac and cheese, and corn bread,” Chauncey said. He did not take his eyes off of Regina.

The waitress collected the menus and made her way to the kitchen. Moments later she came back to drop off two glasses of water.

“So I’m not what you expected?” Regina said before she took a sip of her water.

“It’s not that. It’s just that I wonder how long ago it was when you took that profile picture.”

“Why does it matter?”

“It matters because I thought that I was going to meet a woman my age.”

Regina’s online dating profile said she was ninety-nine. That was not anything new. Most women put ninety-nine as their age for their online profiles. Chauncey took it as a polite way of saying, “It’s none of your business how old I am!” But as he sat across from his date, he wondered if Regina was literally ninety-nine.

“Why? How old are you?” Regina asked.

“Thirty-eight,” Chauncey replied. “How old are you?”

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you that it’s rude to ask a woman her age?” Regina cocked her head to the side in disbelief.

“Here you guys go.” The waitress came over with two hot plates in her hands. She sat the plates down.

“It’s also rude for a woman to lie about her age, and it’s a sin.” Chauncey grabbed his corn bread, broke it in half, and started to eat after a brief moment. He promised to repent later for not praying.

“Are you kidding me? I can’t believe this is how you really are,” Regina said.

“You know that I’m about walking the narrow path of righteousness. I’ve been up front and honest, unlike some people at this table.”

“Yeah, that’s not the only thing that is narrow about you. I believe age is only a number, and you’re as young as you feel.”

“Did you get that from a Cracker Jack box? I’m serious. How silly is that? Age in this country means everything, from getting your license to being able to vote to being able to run for president. It also means being able to cash a Social Security check and go play bingo at an Indian casino.”

Regina must’ve read the expression on Chauncey’s face, because she put her head down and ate some of her food before she spoke again. “I’m sixty!”

Chauncey swallowed hard and waited for his throat to clear before he proceeded. “Excuse me? Sixty? I must not have heard you correctly. You must’ve said forty.”

“Yes, sixty. Six zero. It’s hard to find a good man my age.” Regina shrugged her shoulders and took a bite of her liver and onions.

Much less an alive one, Chauncey thought to himself. The devil was truly a liar, and he was ugly. He had infiltrated the online dating scene and had caused perversion to come into the heart of this vulnerable old woman.

“Why the deception?” Chauncey asked.

“I wasn’t being deceptive. That picture on my profile is me.”

“From a very long time ago,” Chauncey added.

“Do you base things off of looks?” Regina asked.

“No, I base things on whether or not I have to pick you up from your home or from a convalescent home.”

Just then, Regina flung a heap of food into Chauncey’s face. The juice from the onion-littered gravy stung Chauncey in the eyes, and he could not see out of one eye.

“You’re the most disrespectful man I know,” Regina said as she got up and stormed out of the restaurant.

“That says a lot, considering you were probably there at the Last Supper,” Chauncey shouted with one eye open.

Chauncey was humiliated. He could hear the snickers coming from some of the patrons in the restaurant. He had half a mind to call the police on her, but who would take him, a man assaulted by liver and onions, seriously.

Three Weeks until the Men’s Retreat . . .

Will thought of a lot better places to die than in the middle of his parents’ living room. For the third time in his life, Will felt the edge of his father’s .380-pistol pressed against his forehead. That equaled the amount of hugs Will had received from his father, and that surpassed the amount of kisses by three. There were two things Odell did not tolerate: weakness and disrespect. The two previous times Will’s father had put a gun to his head was to drive out weakness. Tonight was for a lack of respect shown by Will. Tonight Odell planned to teach his oldest son a lesson right in front of the whole family.

“Whew. Look at those eyes, ice cold. Not even Jesus could change that.” Odell let a grin sneak out from his poker face.

Will knew his father wouldn’t pull the trigger. His father was a disturbed individual, but even Odell was not sadistic enough to kill Will in front of his mother and baby sister. Twenty years of life had taught him how to react to his father’s empty threats. This was a test to see who, between Jesus and Odell, had the most influence over him. Will couldn’t look rattled, and he couldn’t show fear.

“Go ahead. Pull the trigger.” Will eyes did not betray him.

“Do you hear that, Josh? That’s how a punk talks. That’s how a little boy talks. That’s the sound of weakness,” Odell said to his youngest son, who sat at the table with an ice pack over his face and fear in his eyes.

“I don’t need a gun to prove I’m powerful,” Will replied.

Odell’s smile evaporated, and Will braced for impact. His father could never handle an intellectual debate. Odell always punctuated his arguments with his fists. A chill swept over Will at the horrors that awaited his baby sister, Elisha.

“Man, you ain’t going to keep using my brother as a punching bag, neither. I promise you that.” Will balled up his fists as tightly as he could, prepared to strike.

“It’s nothing, bro. It’s whatever. I got out of line, and I’m straight now,” Joshua said.

Will had given his life over to Christ a year ago and had moved out of his parents’ place as a result. In that short time, Odell had managed to initiate Will’s brother Joshua into the family business of stealing cars. Will had sat in that same chair five years ago with an ice pack over his cheek, grateful that his father had taught him how to be a man and how to conquer the streets. Will didn’t remember what he had done back then to cause Odell to teach him a lesson with his fists. In time, Joshua wouldn’t remember what he had done, either, to take a beating from their father. Will knew his influence over Joshua had diminished.

A tear progressed down Will’s bronze cheek, and rage overcame his father. The tear caused more damage than the threat. Odell removed the gun from Will’s forehead and tucked it behind his back, into his pants. Odell hesitated for a moment before he gave Will a two-handed shove.

“Dad!” Joshua jumped up from his seat and dropped the ice pack. He made a move toward Odell but froze when Will regained his balance. Will did not need his little brother to fight his battles.

Odell had gotten weaker and slower since his release from prison. Will remembered when his father could push him from one side of the room to the other. Odell also had a right hand like a heavyweight boxer, but Will barely moved after his father’s push. Odell left the right side of his chin open for an attack. Will was faster than his father remembered and could get in two punches before Odell even knew what hit him. One thing kept the surge of emotions that rumbled inside of Will at bay, and that was his faith. Which strength packed more power? Will’s physical strength or his spiritual awakening? Will chose the latter and unballed his fists.

Will looked over his father’s shoulder and spotted his mother’s enlarged eyes as she observed the altercation. Before the argument turned physical, Will’s mother pretended to be transfixed by an episode of Good Times. Carroll, Will’s mother, usually stayed in such a drug-induced haze that Odell could fire a rocket launcher at Will and she would not even notice nor care.

Even if for once his mother was not under the influence of drugs, Carroll remained too mentally broken and emotionally bankrupt to broker a peace deal between her husband and son. She stayed high so that she did not have to face her reality.

“What kind of mother would sit there and let her husband put a gun to her son’s head? Let him beat on her youngest son and push the oldest without saying a word?” Will muttered. He refused to let his mother off the hook. Her silence was a greater offense than Odell’s actions.

“She ain’t got to do nothing but just sit there and watch TV, because I got this.” Odell pounded his chest.

Carroll said it all when she turned away from Will and resumed watching her program. She did not utter a word, and Will’s heart had an ache that accompanied each beat.

“Wow, I took care of this family when Dad was locked up, and you would rather him kill me than for once be a mother and protect your children?” Will remarked.

“She’s the reason why you’re so weak. All she did was spoil you and your brother,” Odell said.

“Really? When did she spoil me or my brother? When she left me alone in the house when I was five for a whole day? When she bought me a bunch of toys for Christmas and turned around and sold them for drugs two days later? And where were you?”

“I was playing my hand. Everything you are now and everything you believe in was given to you by the white man. I ain’t saying what I did was right, but I didn’t have a choice in the matter, now did I?”

“We all got a choice, and you should let Joshua decide who he wants to be with,” Will said.

“Joshua, get over here!” Odell’s eyes did not move away from Will.

Without hesitation, Joshua made his way over to his father and brother.

“Josh, tell your brother that you don’t want to go anywhere,” Odell said to Will’s baby brother.

“Bro, I miss you being here. I wish you were here and that we were a family again.” Joshua’s voice cracked under the weight of his words.

“Oh yeah? Let’s be a family again. Let’s let Pop use us as punching bags while Mom shoots up. Let’s all go on a lick together and get caught by the pos, and when Elisha is out of her training bra, let’s put her on the pole and make our family complete. One big dysfunctional family.”

Will could not harbor any ill feelings toward his brother. Joshua was scared, and Will wished Joshua could see that there was another way.

“You know I can’t, Josh. I’m trying to get my life together, and I can’t live like this anymore.”

“Then go. Bounce!” Odell gestured for Will to leave.

“Please, bro. I need you here,” Joshua said.

“I’m always going to be here for you, Josh. Just call me if you need me.” Will gave his brother a hug, and fear transferred from Joshua to Will. “I love you, Josh. Stay up.”

Joshua did not say anything, and Will remembered another one of his father’s creeds: the word love was said by women and sissies. Love did not have to be said if it was shown.

Will broke from Joshua’s embrace and sidestepped his father, who looked too annoyed to say anything. He walked over to his baby sister Elisha’s crib. Positioned next to the flat-screen TV on the opposite side from where his mom sat on the couch, Elisha lay sound asleep. None of the family’s melodrama disturbed her slumber. Will leaned in and planted a kiss on her forehead.

Will then walked over and kissed his mother on the cheek. The kiss he gave his mother was not the same as the one he gave Elisha. Elisha’s kiss was spawned out of the love Will had for his baby sister. Will kissed his mother out of habit. Once again Carroll remained passive when Will needed her to play an active role in his life.

“Bye, Mom,” Will said before he slid between Joshua and his father.

“Don’t ever, so long as you live, think that you can come up in here and tell me how to raise my seed. You hear me!” Odell said.

Will did not break his stride as he headed for the door. Before he opened the door, he took one last look back at his dysfunctional family portrait. Will then opened the door and closed it in a swift motion.

Once outside, Will tried to recall everything that had just transpired. He wanted to call child protective services, but a judge shouldn’t have to decide on family matters. Will wanted Joshua to stay with him, and Joshua wanted Will to move back home. If Will’s life was a game of chess, then he and his brother had just reached a. . .