Another Sneak Peek

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Since Mom’s marriage to Ernie wasn’t fulfilling, I would have walked the halls of hell for her which, up until that point, I had been doing by entering into the crackhouses.  But those days had run their course.   Seemingly, it can be excruciatingly intricate and complex to break out of non-nurturing relationships when, in actuality, it is a single, solitary step off the path, I came to realize.  I never shared with Dean one word about these misadventures, opting instead to simply tell him I was spending the night over to Mom’s, which he always supported.

Over time, Mom had also come to borrow significant sums of money from me which I always forked over, no questions asked.  Of course, I never saw a plugged nickel pass back from her hands to mine.  I later learned she used the money in various ways to deal with Rinard’s drug habit, whether it be bailing him out of jail for drunk driving, paying for his car wrecks, paying off threatening drug dealers, paying for damage to walls in the house from his tantrums, footing the bills for rehabs he’d always walk away from, giving him endless supplies of money for countless broken promises, buying her own personal property back from pawn shops, the list went on.  When I learned from my cousin Spuddy that Mom was paying Rinard’s monthly child support to ex-girlfriend, LaNiece, Rinny, Jr.’s mom, with my money and had been for quite some time, it became abundantly clear to me that the wheels had fallen completely off.  I flipped.

“What do you mean you’re paying his child support, Mommy?  And with my money?” I asked one morning after returning to her house for the first time in well over a year.  My vow during Marcus Alexander’s jury verdict had been weighing heavy on me.  “Have you lost your mind?” I prodded.  She kept dusting living room furniture like it was another sunny Saturday morning.  Signs of stress were showing in her tremendous weight loss, though.  As she bent over, I could darn near see her rib cage through her shell.

“He’s your brother, Marzell.  And we are, after all, talking about Rinny, Jr.  That’s my grandson.  Your nephew.”

“What’s this ‘we’ business?” I asked.  “Who’s ‘we?’”  Of course, by now I knew full well who “we” was because I had been forking over the money that Mom, in turn, spooned out to LaNiece for child support and, knowing LaNiece, it just went to her weaves and claws.

“No matter what Rinard is doing or not doing, my grandson is not going to go without as long as I can help it,” she said, arranging the last six weeks of Jet Magazines on the cherry and glass end table I bought her a few years back for her birthday.  It used to be situated on the right living room wall but, after Rinny kicked it in, Mom had to move it to the left side of the room to conceal the damage.

“Listen to yourself, Mommy!  Rinard is never going to grow up as long as you keep enabling him and paying his child support.  That’s his obligation.  Kick him out the house and trust me, you’ll see how fast he can man up,” I urged.

“Marzell, you of all people know he’s a little slow.  He’s been slow ever since the rat poisoning.  I wasn’t going to go there, but now you’re making me.”  No she didn’t!

“Oh, so now we’re back to the rat poisoning.  Is that it?  The rat poisoning you guys tried to pin on me, and still trying to pin on me?  Mommy, how long are you guys going to ride that rat poisoning bandwagon?  Can we please get over that?  Lord knows I have!”  Suddenly, the iron pitchfork invaded my mind and I couldn’t keep from laughing.  If Molly Mead only knew the truth.

“This is not funny, Marzell” Mom cried, shaking a can of lemon pledge at me.  She grew visibly enraged.  “None of this is funny!”  I really got her goat because all the anger she should have directed at Rinard was now being directed at me, but this was nothing new.

“It is too funny, Mommy.  It’s gotten so far past the point of being ridiculous that it’s absolutely hilarious.”

“This is your brother we’re talking about.”

“And he’s become a joke, and if you keep on protecting him, Mom, you’ll be the punch line.”

“There is nothing wrong with Rinard.  You just have to be patient.  Not everyone discovers what they’re good at as fast as you, Marzell.  You were fortunate and blessed.  You gotta give him time.”

“Time!  Mom, you’ve given him too much time already.  That’s what’s wrong with him now.  You’re being way too lenient.  I see it every day.  Every day.  And trust me, he won’t get any better until you allow him to do better.  The way you are, he has no incentive.  No incentive whatsoever.  And why should he?  I mean, he’s got a mother that still pours milk on his cereal.  He’s what, 26, and you still treat him like he’s a baby?  Are you kidding me?  And if you give me that song and dance about rat poisoning again, I swear I’m going to scream.”

“Well, I don’t know what to do other than be patient with him,” she sighed, collapsing on the couch, the couch I paid to have professionally cleaned after Rinny peed all on it, one end to the other and back, because Mom wouldn’t give him money.

“I know, Mommy, but that’s not good.  It’s just not good for him.  I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s going in deeper.  I’m afraid he’s going in the direction of heroin, if he isn’t already there.  Last week I saw him out on the streets, and he smelled like a thousand whores.  On top of that, he had that metallic odor which is how my crack clients smell.  I almost puked.  I don’t know, Mommy.  I’m just saying.”

“Saying what?” she grouched back in her accusatory tone.  “Now don’t go getting all dramatic, Marzell.  He’s been out looking for work, for Pete’s sake.  Really, he has.  You know those construction sites are filthy.”

“Mom!  Stop it!  Just stop it.  That doesn’t even sound right.  And I know you don’t believe it, so don’t try to convince me with that, or yourself,” I insisted.  She looked dismayed.  Tears welled up in her eyes, but I was buying the sludge no more.  “And the next time Rinny gets into any trouble, and I mean any trouble, just let him dry out in jail.  Just let him dry out inside that cold, musty jail cell.  And if that doesn’t work, instead of praying for his soul, try praying he gets picked up real soon again and gets an even longer prison sentence, and let them send him up the river where he can wait it out even longer.  Then, by the time he gets out, his jonesin days for drugs will be behind him!  Do you hear me?  And maybe, just maybe, you can get your son back…and my nephew can finally have a father for the first time in his life!”

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