ODDS OF LOVE

Episode Two

                                                                  DuBuis : The Past

St. Matthew's Baptist Church was settled like a squat redbrick elderly grandfather on the corner of U Street between a small Chinese carryout restaurant Manny's where Mrs. Woo fried up the greasiest and most delicious fried chicken wings and French fries slathered with Mumbo sauce and a liquor store / grocery / check cashing store that served as the central meeting point and gossip zone for the residents in Ward Eight Southeast Washington DC which was one of the poorest and most neglected by the city neighborhoods. Neither business was open today though. Not on that particular  sunny August day with its almost overwhelming DC humidity and stifling heat. Both business owners , the Woos and Miss Fern Harper , had sadly swung the CLOSED signs on their establishments today like all the other businesses on the street. They were all closed out of respect for a friend. The street was in deep mourning. So was one family. 

The church was nearly overflowing with masses of black clothed people of many different races who settled on the hard wooden pews , fanning themselves with the church fans that showcased either the face of Jesus Christ or Dr. King. Some were wailing with much intense grief. A few were on their knees praying loudly to God almighty above for answers. Why was the question asked by many that day in St. Matthew's. The church choir in their red and gold choir robes belted out a rousing version of Amazing Grace. 

Nine year old DuBuis Lane was named by his father for WEB DuBuis who had been his favorite writer. Marvin Lane was not what anyone would call a successful man. He was not a rich man. He was not a prominent man. But he had loved to read everything. He considered books both a privilege and a honor. He had not graduated high school because he had dropped out of school at sixteen to take care of his widowed mother and four siblings. He worked any job he could find and that would take him on. He did construction. He did cooking. He bagged groceries at a local A&P occasionally. He had never ever dreamed of going back to get his GED and applying to college. He knew in his heart of hearts that there was only one way he would ever exit the most violent and destructive housing project that existed in Chocolate City. The city called it Washington Terrace. The residents of Ward Eight called it Project W or sometimes just Hell. Project W was where Marvin had married his beautiful Godfearing high school sweetheart Jenessa and where they were raising their three children. Project W was where his only son DuBuis had slept in an empty dresser drawer when he was born because in those early days they couldn't afford a crib. Marvin could have been like his brothers. 

Edward and Panther got out of Project W the only other way they knew how to.  But the two men returned to Ward Eight that day to sit in the hard pews in their fancy expensive designer suits , polished shoes and mirrored sunshades. They returned home to see their older brother off to Paradise. To give him a proper homecoming. The men looked like some high class suburban Maryland middle class businessmen but all in the church knew exactly what they were. And what they did to make their money. They cut their eyes at the men discreetly and whispered to each other behind the quickly swirling in the stagnant heat fans. 

Thugs.

Punks.

Dope peddlers.

Corrupters of youth.

The two men Marvin and Jenessa had never allowed near any of their children especially their only son. Eddie and Panther never once had crossed the threshold of Apartment C103 where the family lived. Yet they were there today. They left the posh Georgetown penthouse apartment they shared to brave the hushed whispers and near blatant stares. They would have walked through gunfire or hellfire to bid farewell to their brother. The hero. 

" I never thought , dreamed , we would be burying Marvin , " Mrs. Odessa Jenks Lane sobbed profusely and uncontrollably as her trembling old lined hands pressed a well worn lace trimmed white hankie to her lips. Tears rolled down the solemn acorn brown face that many said was the very picture of Marvin's own. " My boy was good ! So good ! He was a good boy. Not like Edward and Percival's bad tails. I gave those two up to the Lord long ago. I pray to the Lord to redeem and save their souls. But I gave them up ! They no good. Marvin...... Marvin...... my baby boy..... "

Jenessa Reynolds Lane lifted up her bare jet black braided head proudly. She refused to wear a hat. It was far too hot for such foolishness. Marvin hated her in a hat anyway. It was a very good turnout. A good homegoing for a good man. Her husband had been deeply loved. Her arms reached out to pull her weeping daughters Faith and Sylvia closer to her in a protective and maternal move. Marvin looked real nice in his box. That undertaker from Forbes and Son made him look so dignified in death. In death White people did well by Black people. That suit fit him nice too. It had nearly broke her to have to ask that arrogant Panther with his cold cruel eyes and smirking lips for any of his dirty bloodstained money but she needed something nice to lay Marvin out in. His old church suit had a stain on it from that blueberry pie he had ate at the church picnic last summer. She couldn't put him in that suit. No. She couldn't. 

She cast an eye on their son who sat on the other side of Faith , holding her little chubby hand. The boy worried her. He refused to cry. Not once. He was too busy taking care of her and his little sisters. He at nine helped her pick out a casket. He straightened the apartment for when company came by with food. Jenessa wanted to snatch him up by his shoulders and shake his narrow behind good. She wanted to tell him to cry. She wanted to tell him he was not a little man. He was only nine. He was only a child. A child whose father had just died. 

Marvin died saving some foolish White woman from the fancy Montgomery County Maryland suburbs. She blinked back tears of sadness and anger. Some silly woman slumming in the ghetto got herself mugged outside the Woo carryout where Marvin worked as a dishwasher. The White woman survived and was home safe in Bethesda with her husband and children. Marvin The Hero got a knife in the heart. He died instantly and alone on the sidewalk. And the idiot MPD cops didn't have a clue who had did it or really even cared. 

" Go see your daddy , DuBuis David , " she said with a heavy weariness dragging down her voice. Lord have mercy it was too hot. Marvin would hate this. He hated being hot. 

DuBuis took a deep noisy hesitant breath inward and then exhaled it. 

" Boy , little boy , I told you to go say goodbye to your daddy. You hear me ? Your daddy adored you. Go over and see how nice the undertaker made him look in his new suit. "

DuBuis squeezed Faith's hand. He stood up and moved too slowly towards the polished oak wood casket where the body rested forever. The box was surrounded by so many huge flower wreaths that his nose tickled. He felt like sneezing. He felt so old right now. Not nine. He didn't want to say goodbye. 

Not to his Pop. 

He swallowed harshly as he stood before the box. 

That don't look like Pop. That look like some White man. It looked like a stranger. Pop was big and strong and dark skinned. Like him. Everyone said he looked just like Pop. Marvin's clone they teasingly called him. A rush of hot tears suddenly fell from his eyes. 

He didn't want no box one day when he died. He wanted to be burnt up when he died.