Saint And Sinners (114 page)

*

A few days later…

S
aint sat in
the study in his home with a soft blaze warming the room. It was Sunday, 5:17 P.M.,
and dinner would be ready soon. Xenia had baked a rotisserie chicken, and the smell
made his stomach warble in voracious anticipation. The aroma of sweet, glazed carrots,
buttery cornbread, French cut string beans with almonds and home-made rice pilaf caused
his mouth to water and wonder about the size of his helpings.
Will I get enough?

This is what I get for not eating lunch…

He picked up his glass of water and took a hearty sip, then set it back down. He’d
been so busy earlier in the day running errands, he simply hadn’t taken the time to
grab a light lunch or anything substantial at all.

Moreover, he looked forward to this meal all the more because Xenia had an important
meeting early Monday morning at the station, so they wouldn’t be having breakfast
together. Instead, it would just be him and the children until the nanny took them
off to school and he drove to the credit union, also known as the Rainbeau Knight
Headquarters, now officially moved to New York. The L.A. office was still running
strong, and the blessing was, the transition proved much smoother than initially surmised.
Over the past few days though, he’d had a lot of time to think.

He’d taken some days off for the holiday season, as well as to decompress after what
he and his family had endured. It was time to slow down and smell the roses. He realized
the other day, as he casually watched Dakarai reading a book about ancient Egypt,
his boys needed a word from him, just as much as Isis.

Hassani was changing and growing every second into a person that, in some respects,
Saint knew all too well. He recognized much of himself inside of his son and at other
times, Hassani seemed a foreign entity, forging ahead in life and trying to make choices
about who he was, to determine and live according to his convictions. This would be
an ongoing process, because a wise student of life never graduates. There is no degree
to obtain, no ceremony to culminate the end of the learning and testing progression.
Life is a college, and the day you graduate is the day you die, for each twenty-four
hour period is a class, some of which will be passed with flying Rainbeau colors,
others one will fail abysmally. Saint removed a pad of paper from his office drawer.
The smell of the rich wood wafted past his nostrils as he closed the thing back. Plopping
the white notebook on the desk, he opened it up to a clean sheet. He closed his eyes
and took a deep breath, picked up his black ink pen and began to write:

To my sons, Hassani and Dakarai,

Today is January 3
^rd
. The holidays have just passed, and we’ve been in New York for less than a year.
Thus far, we’ve encountered our share of growing troubles, aches, and heartbreak.
We’ve also endured, gathering strength, fortitude, a sense of family and togetherness,
and the understanding that the weakest link sometimes is ourselves. By the time you
read this, you both will more than likely be teenagers. I debated on writing you each
a separate one, but realized that I would tell you each similar things, so it would
be futile and pointless. Of course, my advice to my children is tailored to your individual
personalities and particular desires and well-being; however, I pride myself on being
consistent and reliable both in my business dealings and in my most important roles
of all, those of a husband and father.

Just so you are aware, I have written Isis a letter as well. Hers was separate from
yours because my advice, confessions and words to her had to be a little different
from the message I have for the two of you. Now, I pray that, when you are reading
this, I am still alive. I had a beautiful dream one afternoon, which alluded to the
possibility that I would be though you never know, sometimes my dreams are not premonitions
but simply what they are to many people: dreams that will not aid, change or predict
the future. Either way, I’m glad that you have this in your possession, because I
want to talk to you two young men about me, your father. I want to get candid with
you, just as I have done your entire lives. To me, the ultimate expression of love
revolves around honesty and compassion. I have handwritten the letters to place a
bit of my own spirit into them. There is something about sitting down and using a
pen and paper that evokes an old-school nostalgia, but also allows you to see a bit
more of my personality, if you are the perceptive sort. Now, let’s begin.

Hassani, I show no favoritism towards my children. However, you are my first born,
and that fact alone holds a special place in my heart. You are the first child that
I ever created and watched enter the world. I know this for a fact because one of
my gifts, which I discovered right after you were conceived, is that I know almost
immediately when I’ve procreated. Xenia and I were not married long when you were
fashioned inside of your mother’s womb. I will be honest with you, Hassani. I was
not initially mentally prepared for fatherhood right before you were created. There
were some things going on that involved my life being in jeopardy, and all of that
caused me to give pause when faced with such a role. Still, I did want children, and
I knew your mother was the perfect woman for me to have them with, although the timing
was an issue.

After the threat to my life was resolved, I immediately let your mother have her greatest
desire, and that was to bring a baby into the world. While you grew within her, I
discovered that I could love even deeper than I could ever imagine. Though I hadn’t
seen or held you yet in my arms, I could feel your very soul when I’d place my hand
on your mother’s stomach. I dreamt about you more times than not, and I was just as
excited as your mother the day you were born. When I held you for the first time,
Hassani, I cried a million tears of joy. I knew I’d die for you if I had to. I’d sacrifice
it all, so that you’d have a chance to fly in this world.

Hassani—and this goes for you as well, Dakarai—I want you two to travel your own path.
I don’t want you to try to be like me, or feel pressure to measure up to this image
of what you believe I am. I want all three of my children to be their own person and
voyage much farther than I ever did and could even imagine. Hassani and Dakarai, you
are my sons, my boys. And it takes me, as your father, to teach you how to be men.
Your mother can’t do it. Your teachers can’t, either. I am your first introduction
to what a man is and how he behaves. Through me, you see an example set forth. I’m
not perfect. I told Isis this, too. I will mess up along the way. I will do and say
things that will not be beneficial to either of you; however, I hope and pray that
those instances are rare, versus the norm.

I am a flawed man because I’m human. But my love for you isn’t flawed in the least.
Hassani, you are exceptionally talented. You have a natural compassion for others.
In that regard, you are much like your mother. You also have beautiful supernatural
gifts that will continue to grow in strength as well as number. If the Creator allows
it and you as well, I’d like to help you along the way. Recently, you’ve come into
contact with a young man named Angel. Initially, I was quite resistant. My first priority
is to maintain the safety of your mother and you, my seeds. If I see anyone that I
perceive to be a threat to your safety and longevity, I act accordingly. Now, with
that said, I also have pride, which as I’ve tried to explain to you, can be debilitating.
I am rather possessive, Hassani. I don’t mind sharing money, gifts, material possessions—but
when it comes to my wife and children, I do not like giving one ounce to anyone else.
It is not that I believe I own you; it is because I love you so much, I want you all
to myself. It is selfish. This is my own cross to bear.

Something inside of me told me what Angel wanted the moment I looked deeply into his
eyes for the first time. The day I came up to your school, with the knowledge that
you had been taking off from school, I knew he was your Guardian. I knew someone had
found my son and claimed him. Powerful, multi-tiered Angel Children often have this
effect on others. People will gravitate towards you. Some of these people will not
be well-intentioned. Others will be in awe of you, and simply want to draw close.
My Guardian alerted me to this phenomenon recently as well. However, due to what was
going on in my life, where I lived and other factors, I was not as observant about
it. As far as a Guardian is concerned, usually, it is someone less psychically powerful
than the person they are guarding, which is the opposite of what we expect of bodyguards,
such as those in the entertainment industry.

I have come to realize why this is so. Hassani, as multi-tiered Angel Children, we
think a bit differently about life than your average person, and we need someone to
keep us more grounded and realistic during our formative years. A civilian that is
a Guardian, or a less-gifted Angel Child, can do just that. Your uncle Jagger had
your uncle Lawrence, and I had Bomb. Lawrence is Jagger’s peer, but it was still a
perfect match and in some way, Lawrence now serves as my Guardian, too. He is multi-tiered,
but his personality is thus that he quite frankly, is less volatile and level headed
during emotional situations. The norm, however, is typically that the Guardian is
at least a few years older than the Angel Child. Still, as my examples show, this
is not always the case.

Despite how I treat Angel, Hassani, I care for him very much. The reason why I get
on him, and sometimes it is in jest, is because I need for him to mature and not take
things so nonchalantly when it comes to your protection. In many ways, Angel is rather
immature and destructive, and that is because he did not have a good role model during
his most formative years of personality development. No one was there to tell him,
‘Hey, this is wrong’, as well as, ‘Hey, you are doing a great job!’ I am not his father,
nor am I trying to be. It is against our bylaws, unfortunately, for me to interfere
with him in that capacity. However, I do have the right to give him advice from time
to time and to step in if I feel he is putting you in harm’s way. Regardless, the
two of you chose one another, and there is nothing I can do about that, nor would
I wish to at this time.

He has a lot of potential, and even if he hasn’t told you, he really does love you.
He is a popular child, and part of his popularity is due to the fact that he bucks
authority; he is a fairly good looking kid with a lot of personality and charisma;
he is charming, bright, talented, and rather street slick. He could be anywhere in
this city, yet he wishes to spend a lot of his time with you because he simply can’t
help himself.

Guardian Angel Children are like that, though. Your mother is also more aware than
I gave her credit for. She, too, has known what Angel is about and what he has been
doing, so despite him trying to butter her up, she has his number. I can’t help but
smile as I write this—he is one funny cat. Anyway, you can come to me too, Hassani.
I will always be here for you, as well as your mother, when it seems everyone else
has let you down. And trust me, there will be days when you feel rather alone. It
is part of the territory, part of who we are and our mission in life. We feel alone
because we are so different from many others due to our gifts. Please stay encouraged
and know that you were created to do great things and change the world! I do want
to give you a bit of sage advice. Please be mindful of your brother’s and sister’s
need to have you active in their life. You have a tendency, and you always did quite
frankly, to act more like an only child. You live in your own world and go off on
your own, but there is no doubt in my mind how much you love your brother and sister.
You are very kind to Isis more times than not, and I need for that to continue. You
are the oldest, and with that comes some level of responsibility. You have natural
leadership qualities, thus, you must not barricade yourself every time the going gets
tough. You are prone to being clam-like during these phases, so just remember, it
truly is just a phase, a season in time. You are too important to me, your mother,
your siblings, this entire country and the world, to do that on a continuous basis.
You must take a breather but return better and stronger. This will be your personal
battle, your tendency to withdraw from society when you feel overwhelmed. As long
as I have breath in my body, I will help you overcome this.