Prayers for a Son

Jaliel Roads shoved in the door to his new home. The dilapidated apartment that his brother, Michael, had found for him as a “temporary residence” was probably far more welcoming than the prison cell he had lived in for these past eight years. As soon as he stepped across the threshold with his duffle bags in hand, a faint smell of ammonia wafted to his nose. Dust was settled across the kitchen countertop and tiny rat droppings and dead insects were scattered across the small floor space.

After sharing a cell with a convicted rapist who constantly asked him questions like “Do you remember what it felt like?” or “What do you think they are doing with their lives now?”, any place could make him feel at home though. And after having to fight for his life at least a hundred times in the last eight years while just working out in the yard or eating his dinner, anything could make him feel at peace.

To think I am reduced to living like this, all for her… all for nothing now, he thought to himself.

He had actually found himself thinking this exact thought many times over in the years he spent imprisoned. He probably thought this very thought every night as he lay awake on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, kept awake by the endless cackling and pounding of the other inmates and the taunts of the prison guards.

“You would be lucky to survive your full sentence here, Pretty Boy,” Samson, the nightshift guard had said when he had first arrived. “You don’t look like the type to be hangin’ with this lot and normally ‘round here your kind gets easily broken. In more ways than one…”

Samson had an annoying habit of laughing at his own jokes and his hoarse guffawing was an even greater annoyance. Of course Jaliel never found him to be very amusing, but their conversations together were often informative. The talks of the guards and the occasional bit of T.V. viewing the inmates were allowed were their only connection to knowing what was going on outside. That and the visits… Like the very same visit that broke his heart.

Jaliel remembered that day. He couldn’t remember the exact date or even the season but he remembered everything else from the outfit she wore that complimented her so well as she sat on the other side of window, to the look in her face as she looked him in the eyes and told him it was over…

All for her…

His mother had always told him that the girl was trouble, but he had grown up with her since childhood and he knew her better than anyone. And plus, he was in…. lust.

It felt like love to him especially after so many other relationships he had been through where he would use a girl for the moment and leave her, but somehow Shay was different. He couldn’t leave her out of some form of deep-seated emotions but it was more of a physical connection they had and an understanding. She got him in ways that no one else could, not even his own mother or his brother.

From his teen years to adulthood, when he was out clubbing, hustling, or just trying to find some kind of high, his family would be in church. His mother was never oppressive. In fact, she was pretty laidback with her parenting style. Compared to most church mothers she was, in a sense, pretty cool. But she would always admonish him on his actions, saying that he would “lead his life to ruin on his own but only with Jesus could he be saved.” Jaliel would always laugh silently to himself at that and merely declined on her offers to go with him into prayer. His brother was always the good child, the one willing to do whatever their mother said, and always the overachiever. Jaliel always mused that that must have been the reason his brother was the one with the gorgeous wife, two kids, and the little house with the white picket fence in the white neighborhood. It was a wonder that they were twins.

In fact, his brother had been with him on that night at the bar. Neither Michael nor his wife was a drinker but they were cool people to hang out with in some settings. Shay was also with him, as they were attempting to double date.

Shay, of course, was not “wifey material” in any sense of the word but she was always great to have around. Except in that particular instance when Claudius, or C.J. as he was better known, came around and things turned for the worse pretty fast.

At first he and Shay were enjoying their drinks and laughing it up with his brother and sister-in-law, and then Claudius came over to their table out of nowhere trying to instigate a fight. Claudius had been Shay’s ex and possibly her “other boo” during her time with Jaliel. He was over possessive and often confrontational, and being built like a professional offensive lineman he could easily intimidate any other male in the neighborhood. Jaliel had had a number of run-ins with C.J. in the past, but this particular one went too far.

Claudius was apparently inebriated and angry to see Shay with Jaliel that night. After interrupting their conversation and making a few derogatory remarks to Shay and Michael’s wife, Asia, he attempted to drag Shay out of the bar. Jaliel had instantly reacted by swinging a bottle over Claudius’ head which only caused him to stumble. Jaliel had attempted to leave quickly after that but Shay decided to stay to look over Claudius which only led to the two of them arguing right outside the doors.

Michael had attempted to persuade him to leave without her, but Jaliel was not the type to lose a girl to another man. In the short time that they stood outside debating over the next plan of action, Claudius had regained consciousness and charged outside to tackle Jaliel to the ground and pound on him.

Jaliel remembered the feeling of suffocation with Claudius’ weight upon him and his fist slamming into his face and chest. He remembered his brother attempting to pry Claudius off of him while Asia and Shay stood over them screaming. He remembered the feeling of the cold steel of his army knife between his fingers as he slipped it out of his back pocket. He remembered the blood pouring out of the multiple stab wounds he had inflicted running over his fingers and the blade. He remembered the look in Shay’s eyes as the police arrived to arrest him…

Without even realizing it, being trapped in his daze by the flooding memories had caused him to wander right into the tiny bathroom of his new living space. It was surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the place. It had a small bathtub with a shower head, a green tiled floor, a small dingy sink and an average-sized mirror that hung open to show the small medicine cabinet which had two small purple pills still left on the tiny shelves from the previous owner, who must have left in rush from the looks of the place.

Jaliel closed the cabinet to examine himself in the mirror. He was clean shaven now, a clear complexion, low-cut hair, broad shouldered, basically the type of man women would swoon for. The eight years imprisoned had dulled the luster of his eyes though. He no longer had the youthful, mischievous look that had allured so many in his prime. He seemed aged now, broken… Just like old Samson had said.

He chuckled slightly to himself at the thoughts that were beginning to invade his mind now and at the same time a small tear ran down his cheek, and then another, but he quickly wiped them away and looked back to the mirror.

“If this is what life is for me now there’s no reason feeling sorry for myself,” Jaliel found himself saying out loud not even knowing who he was talking to. “I could have taken my life plenty of times but I know I have too much to live for. There is purpose in all of this.”

Without even bothering to go back to the living room to retrieve his duffle bags, Jaliel made his way into the dark bedroom where an old bed was already made up for him. His old bed from his mother’s house. It was the only piece of furniture in the whole place. Michael had said that the rest of his things would be brought in during the week. Jaliel understood why Asia wouldn’t allow him to stay in their home with the kids around, but his own mother? This must have been her way of getting him on his own feet by his own means. He couldn’t blame her. In truth, she probably understood him better than anyone else his whole life...

He collapsed on the bed, his head was spinning slightly. He was feeling exhausted just thinking now but he couldn’t go right to sleep. So, he sat up and knelt down beside his bed, folded his hands and bowed his head down. His mother had always said it helped, and during his time in the pen it truly did. The words flowed out of his mouth as he prayed out loud, alone in the dark with no one to hear his words but God…