There had been too many problems to count when James’ mother died. They had piled up, one after the other. First, the Pastor had been sick. The devil had him in a chokehold and prevented his voice from rising any higher than a pinched whisper. The funeral was postponed for a week until he was able to speak in full sentences. James wanted nothing more than to have it over and done with, but to have anyone else speak at his mother’s service seemed like a betrayal that he couldn’t compromise on.

The second had been his mother’s own blood. In spite of the fact that most of the family resided in Saint Louis, to wrangle them all together for the funeral had been a near impossible feat. The younger ones, the teenagers and children of cousins could hardly be bothered to travel ten minutes to the first Mercy Hills to pay respects to the woman who had taken care of most of them since they’d been old enough to latch onto their mother’s breast. Asking them to go twenty minutes more to the new location? Inconceivable. To pry them away from their phones, friends, and computers for a few hours had been a terrible offense in their eyes, but once they were all seated in the pews buttoned up and freshly scrubbed, they settled down and soaked in the somber atmosphere. It wasn’t as easy with the adults. 

James was Loretta’s only child. In her last year of life, she may have forgotten that fact, but he’d been the only one to visit her every day when she was hospitalized, the one to shoulder the bills that remained long after the bed she’d become bound to grew cold. That didn’t stop her siblings from cropping up to attempt to steal the entirety of the service from him. Arrangements had to be made to make sure that the funeral fit everyone’s schedule; it couldn’t happen on a Tuesday, because Auntie Dorothy had her roller skating classes that she just couldn’t miss. Monday through Friday before 3 pm was impossible for cousin Neena because her son Bryce couldn’t afford to miss a day of school if he wanted to get into an Ivy League college, not to mention that he didn’t need to take that sort of emotional distress with him. Had it been his choice, he would have simply told them not to come at all, but to have the whole family there was one of the last things he felt he could do for his mother.

When a date and time was finally settled upon, suddenly everyone had something to say about the location, the catering, and how James was doing it all wrong. He was hardly able to cope. It had taken Shanice shaming them and threatening to disinvite them completely for them to act right; even then, they spent the wake grumbling and moaning about his choices. He hadn’t spoken to any of them since, and family dinners and cookouts had become a tense event. 

 The thing that ate at him the most was that he was unable to host it at the original church. His mother hadn’t ever even set foot into newer Mercy Hills. It’s construction concluded just a little after she’d died, the building located just two blocks away from the old one. He knew without a doubt as soon as he and Shanice entered that she would have disliked it. She’d been in love with the scarred wood at the old church, the mildewed smell that was ingrained into the very bones of the building and the way the windows ached and whined on particularly windy Sunday mornings. It seemed to always be on its last legs, and Loretta liked to say that it was God’s will alone that kept it standing. This new place was too shiny, with its white paint and brand-new pews. It looked like every other church you saw on the tv, and she would have thought it lacked character. 

Now he was there again, only it still wasn’t his turn in the casket. 

“Don’t let yourself forget: God has a plan and a reason for everything, son. He will never put you through something, anything that he ain’t gave you the strength to overcome.” It was almost a mirror of the speech Darnell had given James when his mother died, only this time James lacked the courtesy to even pretend that he believed what the Pastor was saying.

“Yeah, sure. We all set for the 24th?”

The man nodded. For most of his adult life, he’d been able to stand head-to-head, toe to toe with James; now it was generous to say that Darnell reached his shoulder. It made him sick. 

“Yes, of course. You don’t have to worry about a thing further. It was nice to see you again, son, and although I do offer my sincerest apologies for the reason that we have been brought back together, it is always a blessing to have another soul return to the church.”

James stared at the spot between his eyes. When he found that he had nothing else to say, he offered up only a nod in return. He turned to leave, his mind already down the road. 

“And James?” 

He paused but didn’t turn around for fear of what his face would portray. “Yes, Pastor?”

The office was silent and the old man’s bones creaked audibly as he struggled to rise from his chair. “Do come by again. Your mother was a beloved member of this congregation; I’m sure she would rest easy knowing her boy kept up her hard work.” 

For the first time in a while, James went somewhere other than work or home after the meeting. He went to the gym. 

The young woman behind the desk hardly looked at him as he scanned his disintegrating ID card. He was on autopilot as his feet steered him to where he knew the men’s locker room was.

He took to the indoor track first. There could have been someone running beside him the entire time and he wouldn’t have noticed. Instead, he focused on the cool, slick fabric of his basketball shorts against his thighs. He landed hard and heavy on his heels, pushing off of his toes with such a force that it nearly hurt. 

His lungs began to burn much sooner than he’d anticipated. The plump firmness of his belly jiggled offensively when he ran. It told him that it had been too long since he’d worked out, but he’d convinced himself that he was still on top of it; as he stooped over, his hands clasping his knees, he felt the need to scream with breath that he didn’t have. Bodies were so soft, so pliable, so brittle. What was the point in having one if all it was going to do was break when you needed it the most?

Pastor Rolland had been more surprised than James himself to find him sitting in his office that morning. Yes, they had spoken on the phone about it, but the conversation had consisted of flimsy questions, speculative talk and vague questions. James had been dubious to even set a date to meet; to say out loud that he was still on the fence about his daughter’s funeral taking place at the church was as unnecessary as it was impudent.

In the end, he’d gone ahead and selected a plot of land for her on the property and that had been that.

The rhythmic thumping of the speed bag calmed him enough that he felt the fist around his skull start to loosen. He licked his lips. Tasted sweat. Fished a hair from his tongue with fingers that left behind a taste like rust. 

It was over too soon.

When he dropped his shoes off in the kitchen, Isaiah sat at the kitchen table, his back to the front room. He jumped at the sound, twisting around so fast that the chair rocked on it’s already unsteady legs. James had already decided not to speak to him. Isaiah crossed the line first.

“I need a suit for the funeral.”

James began throwing open cabinets. With each one that revealed itself to be empty, he cursed himself more and more. Of course, they were empty; he was the only one that filled them, and when was the last time he’d done that? 

“And what that got to do with me?”

“I need money for it.” His voice was flat. It irked James.

He slammed a cabinet. “So get a job, nigga. I don’t understand why we having this conversation. Get to the damn point.”

Isaiah was silent for a moment. “I got one. But I only been at it for a week; it ain’t enough time to get a nice one. I’ll pay you back.”

The admission was enough to halt James, if only for a moment. What kind of job would hire a kid that didn’t have any skills besides lighting up and sleeping was beyond him. How was he getting to and from work? The bus? Their routes didn’t extend outside of Saint Louis City, so that meant he’d likely gotten a crappy fast-food job of some sort. If so, where were the uniforms? He allowed the train of thought to carry on only until he remembered that he didn’t care. 

The house smelled like nothing. Shanice was nowhere to be seen. Sweat froze between his shoulder blades. 

He grunted. “Fine. The money will be on the table in the morning. Make sure it’s fitted; if you bring yo’ ass to this church saggin’, imma dog walk ya’ ass right then and there up out the joint.”

Next Chapter: 28