Chapter 10: Melvin

Melvin made sure he was standing at least ten feet away from the door of The Doughnut Shop. The place was operated by two sisters who were pure b*****s. Melvin couldn't count the number of times they had run him away from their place of business. Hell, all he did was stand by the door so he could ask their customers for their change as they were leaving. He didn't see a thing wrong with it. The way Melvin saw it, Wilamena and Darvetta had already made their money off the customers, and so what business was it of theirs to be concerned with what the customers did with the remainder of their money after they left The Doughnut Shop.

Melvin had to pick one side of the door to stand down from because the first time Wilamena and Darvetta spotted Melvin walking after a customer, Melvin knew they would be on his a*s and the last time they threatened to just call the cops on him if he did it again. Melvin didn't want trouble. Essentially, he could only ask the people who passed him for money since it would not be within view of the sisters. Every time the door opened, Melvin felt like he was at a craps game, and he felt the same pang of disappointment every time someone went the opposite direction, like he had lost a game.

That day only five people passed him, and of the five, only two people gave him any change, totaling at a whopping $3.68 cents. It was a long way from $20, the amount Melvin had convinced himself he would need to chase the ghost of a high he had. If he could scrape up $20 before his previous high left him altogether, he could stop the feigning for more crack. He just needed $20 to smooth the rough edges out.

At the rate he was going, Melvin began to panic. It was important that he got the crack while he was still high, or he'd only be chasing the high all over again. He racked his brain about how he could quickly get the money and came up with nothing. He was just about to sail a few cuss words when he saw Rebecca Tabernacle coming down the sidewalk opposite him. His heart almost leaped. Mrs. Tabernacle was known for her generous heart, and furthermore, she had known Melvin since he was a child.

Typically, Melvin would have been ashamed to allow Mrs. Tabernacle to see him so disheveled. He needed shave and a haircut, and his clothes weren't clean. In that moment, Melvin did not give a damn about his appearance or Wilamena and Darvetta seeing him talk to someone outside their store.

"Mrs. Tabernacle," Melvin said jovially as he approached her.

"Melvin, is that you?" Rebecca asked, stopping in her tracks and peering at the thin frail man standing ahead of her.

"Yes, Ma'am, it's me, Little Melvin from Lemack Street," Melvin said with a smile.

"Well, it's been much too long, child! How have you been?"

"I've seen better days,"

"Haven't we all? But don't fret, when He returns, we will see those better days again,"

"Yes, Ma'am"

"Well, you take care child,"

"Mrs. Tabernacle, may I trouble you for a minute?"

"I've always got an ear to listen and a mouth to pray. What is it?"

"I've been down on my luck for a terribly long time now, and--well, I can't even afford the very basic things. I'm awfully hungry, and I was wondering if maybe you could spare a couple of dollars so I can eat? Typically, I'd be too proud to even ask, but my belly is rubbing against my backbone right about now,"

"Don't be ashamed. We all fall down. I'd be happy to buy you breakfast. Come on inside and get something. On me,"

"Well, I wasn't really in the mood for doughnuts. I actually had my mind on a ham, egg, and cheese sandwich from the Tiger Mart down the street,"

Mrs. Tabernacle raised her eyebrows, and asked, "Oh, yea?"

Melvin suddenly felt as if he were shrinking. He was cussing himself for doing it totally wrong.

"I would think a hungry man wouldn't care what he ate, as long as it was edible."

Melvin smiled sheepishly, and suddenly felt like a child.

"Now, come," Mrs. Tabernacle commanded gesturing Melvin to approach the door.

Melvin held the door opened for Mrs. Tabernacle then entered the shop himself. Immediately, he heard the raspy voice of Darvetta.

"Mrs. Tabernacle!" Darvetta exclaimed, "Is this man bothering you?"

"I told you we would call the cops on you," Darvetta said to Melvin before allowing Mrs. Tabernacle to answer.

"Wilamena!" Darvetta screamed to the back, causing her turkey neck to jiggle, "call the cops!"

"What?!" Wilamena screamed back up front, "I can't hear you!"

"Come here!" Darvetta screamed, her bright face beginning to redden

"Now, Darvetta, is all this really necessary?" Mrs. Tabernacle asked, confused by what was taking place.

"Mrs. Tabernacle, please be patient," Darvetta asked, overly attempting to sound professional, "we have a----small matter to attend to, and I'll be with you directly."

Mrs. Tabernacle threw her arms in the air, and then sat down in a stool at the counter.

Melvin didn't speak. He wanted Thing 1 and Thing 2 to make complete fools out of themselves before he let them know he was a legitimate customer this time. He smirked at the big one, with her dramatic antics. She was acting like it was some five star joint. Melvin had a few items from the place before, and he couldn't lie it was damn good, but damn, it wasn't like the president was stopping there to eat.

Finally, Wilamena appeared through the threshold of room located behind the counter.

"Darvetta! What's going on? Why are you yelling?" Wilamena asked partly concerned, but obviously annoyed, but the exasperated looker on her face.

"I was trying to tell you to call the cops. Look who's here," Darvetta said dryly, pointing at Melvin.

"Melvin?" Wilamena asked, clearly out of patience, "Look, man, I don't know what you don't understand. We don't need no crack heads hanging around here. Now, I have to call the cops to prove to you how serious I am,"

"That won't be necessary," Mrs. Tabernacle interjected, rising from her seat.

"Mrs. Tabernacle, you don't understand, this man is a constant nuisance," Wilamena said.

"I understand clearly," Mrs. Tabernacle said, "I understand that often times you'll find that you have more in common with those you look down upon than you think. I remember not too long ago, before the Lord blessed you with this shop and lucrative business, you used to go shop to shop selling your doughnuts to the customers of those shops. I could have easily told you that you couldn't piggy back off my clients and to find your own, but did I? No, I promoted your products, and referred you to people,"

"So I understand the reason why it is not appropriate for Melvin to ask your customers for money--and I'm sure he will not be doing that anymore, right?"

"I have a feeling that even if Melvin were selling an actual product that he would still receive the same treatment. It is your business of course, do as you see fit. I only beseech you ladies, to remember from whence you came. How successful would you be if it were not for people like myself who afforded you the opportunity to build clientele? While Melvin---is not necessarily being helpful by harassing your customer, he is still a child of God, and deserving of better treatment."

"With all that being said, put the phone down. I am the reason Melvin is inside. I offered to buy him breakfast,"

Melvin folded his arms over his chest and rested his weight on to one leg. He looked down as he shook his head, but did not hide his smirk.

"Mrs. Tabernacle, this is how they always treat me, and I've never done anything to them," Melvin said pathetically.

Mrs. Tabernacle gave Melvin a quick glance before saying "I don't know about all that Melvin,"

Mrs. Tabernacle approached the counter to place her order. Melvin slowly took the place in. He had only been inside a few times, but never paid attention to its appearance.

It wasn't fancy or anything, with its mint green walls and black and white decor. The Doughnut Shop's retro decor brought back many childhood memories to Melvin, especially the jukebox in the corner. Melvin always loved playing them as a child. It reminded him of a lighter and care-free period of his life. Like a moth to a flame, Melvin was drawn to the jukebox. He felt the cool glass as he looked at the selections: Al Green, Earth, Wind, & Fire, and even Prince!           Melvin began to think perhaps Wilamena and Darvetta were not so bad after all; how could anyone with this taste in music be bad? Melvin reached in his pocket, but instantly stopped, breaking him out of his reverie. The jukebox cost $1.50 per selection. Melvin was nowhere near close to his goal of $20, so he couldn't have even spared a quarter. His inability to enjoy even the simplest things, a song, brought a heavy realization rushing back to Melvin about why he was even in the Doughnut Shop in the first place: crack. It had completely taken over his life, and the sad part was smoking crack was not even fun to Melvin anymore. It was now necessary.

Melvin wept on the inside as he rested his forearm against the jukebox. He wept for his struggles, for his yearning to stop using drugs, and for his voracious appetite for crack. The drug had literally turned into his very being. It was all he lived for. Everything he did for the past ten years had been centered on his need for crack. Any work or critical thinking skills he may have performed was solely a means to his next hit. This is why it was especially painful for Melvin to look at Earth, Wind, and Fire's "Fantasy". It was his absolute favorite song for a couple reasons.

For one, it was the song that played in his mother's Cutlass Supreme the night he lost his virginity to Lisa-Faye Duncan. Lisa-Faye was pretty and tender, but she had certainly been around the block. The things she did to Melvin had him wondering to the day about what ever happened to her, and she was certainly his benchmark lover for a very long time before his the memory of exactly how her love cave felt began to fade, leaving him unable to compare her to other lovers.

All Melvin knew was Lisa-Faye made him feel good in every kind of way, not just physically. Although the encounter would be their first and last, Lisa-Faye had given him two things no other person had: sex and serenity, and for that, she would always be remembered. Thinking of Lisa-Faye brought Melvin to the second reason he loved "Fantasy": it was the last song he heard before he left home to attend Stanford University. His life was never the same again.

Darvetta broke Melvin's reverie when she demanded to know what he wanted to order. Melvin was slightly annoyed, but also relieved in the same instance. He really did not want to travel down the dark road that led to his past because that would really cause him to go on a crack binge. Melvin approached the counter and looked up at the menu. He really wasn't even hungry. His ploy had just gone horribly wrong. Hell, he hadn't had an appetite for food in three days. Melvin figured he would get something the thought he would like to have later, when he was done with this episode of Crack Chronicles.

"Well?" Darvetta demanded dryly, but Melvin continued to be silent. A part of him wanted to annoy the s**t out of Darvetta for all the times she and Wilamena were so got damn nasty to him. He had to stop himself from smiling. Today he was the windshield and not the bug.

"Darvetta," he said overly polite, "I was looking for the raspberry jelly glazed doughnut, but can't find it."

Darvetta said, "That's because we don't have it. Can't you read? Did you see it on the menu?"

Melvin ignored Darvetta's rudeness. He wanted to agitate her a little more for all the times she berated and belittled him without knowing the first thing about him. Well, without knowing anything else about him, other than his drug addiction.

"Well, what kind of s**t is that?" he finally asked, becoming increasingly annoyed. All he wanted was a measly rock, and instead, he was there, attempting to order food he didn't even want, and he couldn't even do that successfully.

"We make our raspberry filling from scratch and it’s not raspberry season right now,"

"That's the most stupid s**t I have ever heard of. You all do not have patrons that expect gourmet food. You're in the hood, for Christ's sake! There are bars on all of the windows and doors. Raspberry is a common flavor. You know black people love anything flavored raspberry. Have you thought of how much more revenue you'd make just by selling this flavor all year long?!"

"Melvin," Darvetta said, cocking her head to one side and causing all the fat under of chin to change position, "you are a crack head, not a business man. If I want to know about cooking some coke or lighting a pipe, you'd be the first person I'd call for their expertise. I promise,"

"Otherwise, we got this," Wilamena chimed in, "we don't ned advice from someone who isn't even smart enough to stop killing themselves. Now, are you going to order or what? I'm ready for you to leave and never, ever come back,"

By the end of Wilamena's last sentence, Melvin felt his last nerve snap with a clean break.

"You, ugly, yellow, flat-back, turkey neck, stinking p***y b***h, "Melvin growled slowly through clenched teeth at Darvetta, who could only hold her mouth opened in shock. Wilamena and Mrs. Tabernacle, who were just as flabbergasted as Darvetta, remained still and silent, as they watched Melvin’s mad rant.

"How the f**k can you stand there and look at me with such contempt? Like you ain't f*****g Donnie Skipper, and he damn sure smokes dope. Hell, he uses whatever he can get his f*****g hands on, and I'm the Crack head King?  Hell, Donnie is the one who taught me how to cook dope, but I got a problem?"

“Not to mention Phyllis is your best friend.  And you been f****n her man.  For years.  But I ain’t s**t? Un-f*****g-believable!”

A pin could be heard dropped on cotton, and Melvin shook his head with satisfaction when Darvetta's face reddened and she immediately looked to floor. He felt twice the satisfaction when he saw Wilamena frowning at her sister with the contempt Darvetta had shown him.

He was so sick of these f*****g b*****s riding him as if they had no skeletons in their closets. Melvin didn't know if Mrs. Tabernacle knew of his drug habit before today, but hell the sisters had put his business on Front Street, and he looked the part. He may as well have owned it. Since everybody in the room knew his dirty little secret, it was time he stopped being a good little crack head, and be a real f*****g crack head. Hell, isn't that what everyone wanted to see? The irate, itchy, irrational, and energetic stereotypical crack head?

He wasn't high and he was no closer to getting high. That made him the maddest. And these b*****s were taunting him in ways they could not comprehend. They couldn't know the very word crack was a trigger for him. It didn't matter if someone was talking about the wonderful rock, or a damaged sidewalk, to hear it sent him over the edge. And those two b*****s had said the word over and over to him, as if they knew it would make him lose his mind until he got a fix. If this was what being a crack head felt like, then f**k it, he was a crack head today.

"Yea, you thought no one knew. I bet even Wilamena's a*s didn't know your fat a*s was taking money out the register to give to Donnie for his fixes. How do I know, you ask? Because I help Donnie smoke the s**t. Who do you think pushes Donnie up to even f**k your fat a*s for some money? And not just some money, I'm talking at least a yard each time,"

"But Wilamena, you would know that because you're too busy sucking m***********s off for a dollar in the back of this shop. I bet you be glazing all the doughnuts, don't you?"

"That's why it surprised me that you don't sell raspberry doughnuts all year round, as much as you will do for a dollar. And I hear you are really, really talented. I should have come to get my dick sucked, but as we all know, I love smoking crack, so I can't quite keep a dollar handy,"

Melvin knew he had them by the short hairs. Now everyone was exposed, and no one had even expected it.

"So with all that being said, I say unto you, Stinky and Guzzler, while you are judging me, remember these streets don't love nobody, and will throw dirt on anybody. It's not what you do. It's not even about how you do it. It's really about not letting anyone find out what it is you do, so buy some Listerine and Massengill , and get off my got damn, motherfucking back,"

"…no f*****g raspberry doughnuts…" he muttered as he stormed out the shop.

Melvin wasn't just mad. He was what Walterboro locals would call “shittin’”; an incredibly high level of anger. All he wanted was some f*****g crack. He had wasted his time and almost let those b*****s blow the piece of a high that remained from when he was smoking earlier that day. Melvin shoved his hands in his pockets and angrily kicked a piece of debris into the street.

He was enraged and desperate. Melvin felt all of his frustrations bubbling up inside him  and he didn’t know if he were more upset about not having any money, or how condescending those Sweat Hogs were to him back at the Doughnut Shop.  Suddenly, he yanked his hands from his pockets and flailed his arms in the air as if he were boxing an invisible opponent.  Then, Melvin took his belt off and struck the light pole in front of him over and over again.

"F**k!" he yelled, as he whipped the pole. He didn't care who saw him flipping out. People would talk about him regardless. All he wanted was drugs in large quantities. If he could get a 20 piece, he wouldn’t even play with it by cutting it into smaller pieces. He would light the whole rock and savor how near death he was.

Melvin grew tired. His arms were burning and he was angry he had to accept defeat. Sweat dripped down his forehead and his back and he was winded. He wiped the sweat from his furrowed brow and turned around to see Mrs. Tabernacle standing before him, face as hard and expressionless as a stone.

Suddenly, he was ashamed. He had truly shown his natural born a*s not only in front of a woman he respected very much, but a real woman of God. Melvin had known her ever since he could remember, and he felt as small as an ant. He really regretted allowing Mrs. Tabernacle to view this side of him, but he still wanted crack.

Mrs. Tabernacle approached him silently and handed him a white bag.

"Maybe that'll calm you down once you finally come down," she said even toned.

Melvin continued to shrink.  He knew this wasn’t the Melvin Mrs. Tabernacle remembered, and he could see the disappointment etched in her hardened face.  She had always told him what a great head he had on his shoulders; that he was going to be a very great man one day.  He wondered how she felt about having to eat her words because right now, he was a great fool.

He was no longer a boy-wonder.  He was no genius; he just knew a lot of s**t that was absolutely useless to him now.  He was a drug addict; an unapologetic drug addict.  He did what he had to in order to cope with everyday life; to silence the ghosts of his past; the failures; the mistakes; the wrong decisions; the life he should have had.  He simply couldn’t imagine having to face the unbearable agony of accepting the part he played in f*****g his life up.  No one understood that.  No one cared that he was a real person.  Other than Mrs. Tabernacle.  She was a genuine person, and now, he had behaved like a maniac in her presence.

"Mrs. Tabernacle, I'm so sorry you saw all that," he began to say, but Mrs. Tabernacle held her hand up, and shook her head, indicating she did not want to hear anymore.

"Take the food and eat," she said firmly.

Although, her tone was now slightly icy, Melvin could not believe the goodness of this woman! To still be kind to him after he just assaulted her precious, sanctified and Holy Ghost filled ears! He had acted like such a donkey, and she still cared if he ate or not. When he had truly behaved like a crack head, she did not shun him. His eyes welled with tears of many emotions.

Melvin was convinced perhaps, Mrs. Tabernacle was his angel on Earth, and perhaps she could get him clean! Oh, God bless her! He thought silently as he watched her walk to her car several feet away.

"Oh, and Melvin," she said as she opened the driver door.

"Yes, ma'am?" Melvin asked, hanging on to her every word.  She was going to say a prayer for him!

"For Christ's sake, stay off that f*****g s**t!" she commanded before getting in the car and driving away.