Page 56 of Turned Out by His Hood Mentality 2

“I’m about to head out, Davidson. Is there anything you need me to do?” my wife, Melody, came into my church office and asked me.

I looked up from the computer monitor, and my eyes landed on her. I’d been giving my wife the silent treatment for a while now. If we’re going to be technical, I would say that I’ve been acting like this toward her since her birthday, which was a little bit over two months ago. It was to the point that I really thought I wanted a divorce, which was odd because I loved this woman more than anything.

She was with me before I even had a dollar to my name. She was with me when I would be outside, preaching in the middle of the projects because I couldn’t afford to open my own ministry. When it came to my wife and me, we always moved on one accord, especially with our children. Half the time, I made the rules, said what things would be, and my wife would just roll with the punches, as she should!

I was a man who went over and beyond to provide for my family. I’ve always been an amazing father, and although my God says that no one is perfect, I make sure that I perfect my craft every day for being a husband to her. Melody and I don’t dwell on materialistic things because we never want to make it seem like we are praising possessions more than we are praising our Father, but I still make sure that my wife has everything her beautiful heart desires.

Two months ago, I’d woken her up to a beautiful Mercedes E350 because I knew how much my wife has wanted that car, so I went ahead and made it happen for her. You would have thought that after the outrageous amount of money I spent on that car, the least she would have done was have my back with our disrespectful daughter on the night of her birthday party, but she didn’t! She sat there and let Normani talk crazy, and on top of that, she had the nerve to stay there after I announced that I was leaving.

A wife doesn’t move like that. Whether I am right or wrong, she was supposed to take sides with her better half. Even after not having my back that night, she still sees Normani, and the most disrespectful thing she has done yet was going to meet up with this Billionaire thug!

I was a pastor who loved my God. I would serve my Father until the day I no longer had any breath in my body, but I wanted this thug out of my daughter’s life. It was one thing for her to be tempted by this man and be led astray, but to foolishly marry this man and to be pregnant with his child, it broke my heart.

I liked to think of Normani as my special child. It was actually me who named our last daughter Normani because of its meaning. Normani meant gift of God. I just knew that Normani would be me and Melody’s special gift. With Naomi, my wife had all types of crazy morning sickness, she was always fatigued, and the last trimester of her pregnancy, the doctor had her on bed rest.

Fast forward, years later, and Melody gets pregnant with Normani. That pregnancy was smooth sailing. No sickness, no pain, no nothing. Even the delivery was a success. I don’t want to sound like I have favoritism toward either of my children, but Normani has always been my baby. It doesn’t sound like a nice thing to say, but I’ve always loved Normani just a little bit more than I did my wife and Naomi. She was such a smart girl too. A little, tiny thing, but at such a young age, there were so many people calling her a prodigy.

She never was disrespectful, although I know I rode both of my children during their childhood because I wanted them both to be better than me. Any other child would have snapped a long time ago, but I always applauded Normani for never doing that. I went from having this sweet little, innocent girl, to having someone I didn’t even recognize anymore, and I knew it had everything to do with who she was dating. I wouldn’t say who she was married to because that marriage was a joke!

“No. The only thing that I need you to do is to excuse yourself. I have one of the young deacons coming in shortly, and I am getting ready to have a conversation with him. Thank you,” I spoke to my wife.

Instead of doing what I’d just told her to do, she closed the door and walked over to the desk. I knew she was angry when she raised her pocketbook and slammed it down on the table. My wife reminded me of Normani in a lot of ways. Well, she reminded me of the Normani I knew before she lost her everlasting mind. Both were so little in stature, and the two have always been so soft-spoken. I looked into my wife’s eyes, and just like the past few times that I’ve looked at her, I saw a lot of hurt in them.

“Davidson, I’m sitting across from you right now, and I’m letting you know that I am tired! Your wife is tired! Now, I haven’t spoken up because I thought that it would hit you eventually, and you would realize that you are the one that’s wrong. You are the reason why our family is slowly breaking apart. Our daughter no longer coming to church and to our home on Sundays is because of you! You sit around and judge Normani for dating who she wants to date, and you bad talk her because, to you, she’s sinning!

“Shall I remind you of Romans 3:23, where it states that all have sinned and fallen short of the glory! Davidson, every day of your life that you open your eyes, and you love our daughter a little less, and you frown upon her a little more, you are sinning! My daughter is happy! My baby is finally happy! I listened to her cry to me on the phone last night because it breaks her heart that her father is treating her this way and that her baby will not have a grandfather in their life.

“I will not allow my baby to feel as if she’s done something wrong. I will not allow you to make her feel like she has to walk around with this badge of disappointment because she hasn’t disappointed anyone but you! I tell anyone with ears who is willing to listen that my twenty-six-year-old daughter falls into the small category of black doctors in the world. My baby has a pediatrician, and she graduated in the top five percent of her college graduating class. She’s a best selling author.

“I can brag on my child until I don’t have breath in my body because she has made me proud! Where your love for her lacks, I will make sure that I’m pouring enough into her to make up for the two of us. You should be ashamed of yourself for treating your child like this. A child that we almost lost to sex trafficking!” Melody screamed at me.

I had never in my life seen my wife this angry. Instead of saying anything, I just sat back and stared at her. I saw the tears that had welled up in her eyes, but they never had the chance to fall.

“I don’t believe in divorce, but if this is what this marriage is coming to, please let me know, Davidson. We have been coming to the church for two months, riding in separate cars. You don’t think the members have caught on to what is happening? You are the one who is good at lying to your congregation, I’m not! I will not lie to these people about anything. I’m not happy. I hate the father that you have become and the husband too!” she spat, and then she headed for the door.

As soon as she pushed it open, one of the younger deacons was standing on the other side of the door. His name was Saint, and I needed to have a conversation with him.

When he saw my angry wife storming out of the office, he looked from me to her, and I could tell he was confused about whether he should still come in.

“Come in. Close the door behind you, and lock it,” I said as I stood up.

One look at Saint, and you could see that he was hard down. I remember two years ago when he joined the church. He came inside when I had about five minutes left to preach my sermon, and he took a seat right in the front of the church on the first pew. I remember what he had on. He wore a dingy wife beater, some sagging jeans, and a pair of dirty white Air Force Ones. He had those long, big dreads that would stick up on the top of his head, looking like a certified thug.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for young boys who resembled him to come into the church because

my church was right in the middle of the hood. Twenty or so years ago, I thought that was the best decision to ever take on, but these days, I just didn’t know. Long story short, Saint had given his life over to Christ that day, and he’s been in church ever since.

At only twenty-nine years old, he had done both jail time and prison time. I knew that for the right amount of money, he would commit a crime, which is where I would need him because I knew that I couldn’t carry it out by myself. Saint could act like he’s changed all he wants, but sometimes, I would have to pass the gas station that wasn’t too far from my church, and I’ve seen him hanging out with a certain crowd. I could easily tell they were up to no good.

“What’s up, Pastor Davidson? Everything alright with First lady?” he asked, swaggering into the room, still holding onto his bible.

Bible study had just ended about thirty minutes ago, and I’d been watching the cameras in my office, so I knew that just about everyone had left for the night. While he took a seat in the chair that my wife had just been sitting in, I sat at the edge of the desk.

“She’ll be alright. Never mind her. I have something important that I want to talk to you about,” I said.

There was a tattoo right in the middle of his face, between his eyes. I’ve never been able to make out what the tattoo was, but I was sure it had something to do with gang activity. Like always, his dreads were in that look that I hated, but he did have a clean line-up. He was dressed in the same black dress shirt and slacks he would wear to every bible study and the same run-down dress shoes. I could see many tattoos on his hands as he sat with them crossed.

“What’s up? I hope you ain’t mad about me coming to bible study late this evening. I just started my new job at Home Depot on Monday, and I didn’t get off until six. I had to take two buses to get here. My baby mama gotta use the car, so she can go to her overnight job cleaning the hotels. We just had our first baby, so we alternate. She watches her during the day while I work, and then at night, she drops her to her mama, so she can go to work, and I catch the bus to get my baby.

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