"You all be careful going home." Mr. Mercer warmly greeted as he hugged two women that attended his
church before sending them on their way out the front door.
Once he shut the door, the man turned to see Deacon Hawthorne taking a collection of pots and pans
into the kitchen. Without even looking around at the empty living room, Charles followed the deacon
and noticed him placing the heavy pots in the refrigerator.
"You don't have to do that, Brother." Charles smiled while going over and dipping dirty dishes into the
already filled sink.
"Well, if it doesn't get done now, then it never will." Hawthorne modestly replied before shutting the
refrigerator door.
Chles carried on in his washing duty as if his longtime friend was not even there beside him at all. He
scrubbed and scoured one dirty dish after another, even the ones that were already virtually spotless to
begin with."Boy, that sure was some good macaroni and cheese Sister Rozell brought over."
Hawthorne gaily commented from out of nowhere.Sparking back to life, Charles chuckled without
taking his eyes off the dishes he was cleaning, "Yes, sir, it was sure was."There rested a tidal wave of
silence in the kitchen. It was so encompassing that even Charles himself could feel the weight of it
bearing upon him. Page 287"Charles, why don't you stop that for now?" Hawthorne implored. "You can
do that later."Gradually, Charles took his hands out of the warm, soapy water and began to dry them off
with a rag that was lying on the counter to his right.With his hands clasped together, the deacon keenly
asked, "When do you think the police will ever find out what made that man kill Isaac?"Charles
continued on drying his hands while taking unsettling glances back and forth from the deacon to the
wet towel he was using."Brother," Charles reacted in a low tone, "there isn't a degree of investigating
the police can do that will bring my boy back. I got folks all over telling me to sue this person and that
person for millions and millions of dollars. Everyone wants to riot for my child, thinking that's the right
thing to do. Believing that will bring Isaac back. They're only doing it for themselves because they're
already mad at the world. They're searching for an outlet; something to fight for. Not one of them even
knew my boy.""Well," Hawthorne sighed, "at least he's in peace now. That's all that matters."Charles
slowly placed the wet towel back onto the counter before turning to a window and looking out at the
dull, grey sky."What about Lynnette and Isaiah, Pastor? How can anyone explain to that little boy what
happened to his father when he grows up? It's just a doggone shame." Hawthorne pitifully
frowned.Charles pulled himself away from the window and simply answered, "I guess we'll have to wait
and see, Lord willing."Deacon Hawthorne reached out and hugged Charles, patting him on the back
saying, "Are you gonna be alright, Brother?" Page 288"I'm just fine." Charles grimaced from the other
side of Hawthorne. "You tell Clara that her marble cake was darn good, as always.""I sure will, Pastor."
The deacon said as he walked into the living room and put on his coat. "Now, if you need anything, just
call us. Clara and I are gonna be home for the rest of the day."With a humble grin, Charles said, "I think
I'll be just fine. You be careful out there." He added before opening the front door.Charles watched with
bated breath as the deacon carried on out to his maroon Cadillac before closing the door. Inside the
house was a sudden, claustrophobic silence; not even the usual leaky faucet in the kitchen could be
heard dripping.With a pair of heavy, sluggish legs, the man began a solemn tour of his own home.
Above the fireplace sat Isaac's picture that was placed next to his mother's. Gently, Charles positioned
his son's frame to where it sat perfectly straight.From the mantle he dragged on into his bedroom,
dropped down to his knees and folded his hands together. But instead of closing his eyes, he kept them
open and rotated his head slightly to the right to where all he could see was his closet door that was
slightly ajar.There was a prayer in the back of his throat waiting for the perfect opportunity to escape. It
was just sitting and festering, like a dead animal on a searing hot day, not wanting to budge a single
inch.The man allowed only his thoughts to do all of his speaking for him. He was angry at himself for
not taking his own son more seriously, but rather than explode into a vicious, house-wrecking tirade like
he desired, he caged it all inside. The rage, the tears and even the prayer to God were locked up
securely while his hands remained tightly clutched the longer he gazed endlessly on at the closet. Page
289After five whole minutes of kneeling, Charles got to his feet and resumed his tour. As he exited his
bedroom, the man captured a glimpse of the living room and the couch and recliner where both he and
Isaac would sit every Sunday afternoon during football season. How the living room would come alive
with the uproars of men whooping and hollering back and forth over who had the better team, The
Browns or The Raiders.Once the celebrated image melted away, Charles just happened to turn to his
immediate left to find himself standing right in front of Isaac's bedroom. The man carefully shoved open
the door to find the bed unmade, as usual. Along the walls were posters of O.J. Simpson and Bruce
Lee. Charles made his way inside and began to make the bed from top to bottom. As he fluffed the
pillows, Charles couldn't help but to look over to the other side of the bed to notice Isaac's record
collection lying next to the wall. Out of all the albums that were displayed, the man managed to catch
sight of Marvin Gaye's, I Want You, and the album cover's artwork. For a brief moment, Charles
squinted and cracked and very subtle grin before he laid the pillows down onto the bed.Before he could
even turn away, he glanced over at the nightstand to see a framed picture of Isaac, Lynnette and Isaiah
that was placed next to the lamp.With pouty lips, Charles picked up the frame and longingly stared at
the three happy people. He affectionately recalled how proud he was of Isaac when he told him that he
and Lynnette were getting married. How much Isaiah resembled his father; from the smile all the way to
the hairstyle was like watching Isaac grow up all over again.Without giving another glance, Charles
placed the picture back down onto the nightstand and began for the doorway. As carefully as he could,
Charles shut the door behind him before standing perfectly still inside the hallway. By the position of the
shadows he could sense that nightfall was drawing nigh. Much to his chagrin, twilight would arrive...in
only a few hours' time.
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