Читать книгу Play The Game - Doug Dixon - Страница 16

I met Reggie at Bible study and he introduced me to several other members of the church. He took me into one of the offices in the back and had me fill out a membership form and a request for baptism for Brandon. Afterwards, we talked about other church activities that I could get involved in once I became a member. Reggie seemed very spiritual, often quoting scripture at the right moment to help me understand more of what my purpose should be as a child of God. It was comforting being in his presence because he was so positive. Before leaving, I took an extra application for Curtis. Since his arrest, the church he grew up in pretty much had turned its back on him and I thought this would be a way to get our family on the right track.

It was late by the time I finished my meeting with Reggie, so he insisted on walking me to my car. We continued our casual conversation until we reached my car.

“So, sister, you’re all set. I’ll make sure we get your papers processed as soon as possible. Someone from the church should contact you by the end of the week.”

“Thanks, Reggie. I wish my boyfriend had been able to come with me, but he had to work,” I said, slightly embarrassed by the lie I’d just told.

“I’m looking forward to meeting him. I hope we can get him involved in our mentor program,” he replied.

I nodded.

“Well, have a safe drive home, sister, and if you need anything, just give me a call,” he said.

I made it home, and Curtis was sitting on the couch watching TV, drinking a beer as Brandon played with his blocks on the floor.

“What’s up, baby?” he said as I walked through the door.

Brandon dropped what he was doing and followed me to the kitchen.

“Has Brandon had dinner?” I asked.

“I gave him a piece of my sandwich about an hour ago.”

“Damn, Curtis, that’s not dinner. Why didn’t you heat up the spaghetti in the refrigerator?” I asked.

“I didn’t know if that’s what you wanted him to eat for dinner,” he replied.

Frustrated, I heated the spaghetti and fed Brandon before giving him his bath and putting him to bed. I got the church membership application and sat next to Curtis, who by now was lying on the couch with about three empty beer bottles on the coffee table in front of him.

“I got everything set for Brandon to be baptized and I also brought you a membership application to fill out.”

“A membership application for what? Besides, I’m already a member at a church,” he replied.

“Yeah, but you never go. You said yourself that they treat you like shit.”

“So what? My mother is still a member, my grandparents are members, and so are all my cousins.”

“I’m saying do this for Brandon,” I insisted.

“Do what for Brandon? This is about him being baptized, not me becoming a member.”

“I thought maybe we could do this together as a family. Then maybe we could become more involved in other things. Maybe you could mentor other kids or something.”

“What?” Curtis laughed. “A mentor? Girl, please. I ain’t got time for no shit like that. I’m trying to get paid. Besides, I got problems of my own to deal with.”

“So, you’re saying you’re not going to join?” I asked.

“Hell, no, I’m not joining.”

I tossed the application on the table in front of him and walked away. “I give up, Curtis.”

I got in bed at around nine o’clock and watched a movie. Curtis turned off the TV, got in bed next to me, and pulled me close to him.

“You still mad at me?” he asked.

“You know what, Curtis? I don’t give a shit anymore. I’m trying to do the right thing and all you do is shoot me down, so I give up. From now on, do what you want, but I’m going to do what I think is right for me and Brandon.”

“C’mon, baby. Don’t act like that. Trust me, we’ll be okay,” he whispered as he kissed my neck. “I know you want what’s best for Brandon, but I want what’s best for all of us. You handle that end and trust me, and we’ll be okay. Give me a few more months to get my business affairs together and I’ll show you,” he continued as he caressed my body. His words had no meaning but his touch turned me on. He somehow knew the right buttons to push when I was pissed off at him.