Don't Blame the Devil by Pat G'Orge-Walker

least the food didn’t spill out of the containers.” Jessie stifled an urge to laugh. The deacon’s story of unwittingly getting involved in a stranger’s situation that left him less than blessed was funny.
    â€œIf you really want a story, you should’ve been out on a call with me last night. I’m telling you, if I have another night like last night, I’m taking off my badge and going upside some heads over there in Crown Heights. Hot as it is and young folks running all over the place over on Lincoln, turning on fire hydrants and slashing tires. Don’t make sense.” Jessie had almost fifteen years on the police force and every other week he threatened to take off his badge.
    â€œListen, something came up and I got to handle it quickly. I promise it shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours. Go ahead and start eating. If I’m not back in time, then start the Bible study.” Deacon Pillar tried to say everything in a way where it wasn’t a complete lie; a little deceptive, but not a complete lie.
    â€œI guess it’s okay,” Tamara said as she gathered the food to take to the kitchen. “Sister Marty’s working late anyhow. And, as usual, I don’t have a date. Actually, I could have one—I just don’t want one….”
    The deacon tuned Tamara out. His mind had gone elsewhere. Have mercy. I’d almost forgotten about Marty. And then the deacon realized he’d left Delilah alone for a little too long.
    The hair on Deacon Pillar’s neck suddenly rose and he knew why. He raced to close the door just as Delilah came barreling against it. It was almost a head-on collision.
    â€œStop with the games, Thurgood,” Delilah barked as she started to knock on the door. “I need to use your bathroom and there’s no negotiation.”
    â€œDeacon,” Jessie asked slowly, “who is that? What’s going on?”
    â€œUhhhh…” That’s as far as the deacon got before Delilah, encouraged by the urgency of her situation, pushed the door open.
    Delilah didn’t bother to check out whether there were others there or not. She hadn’t thought that far.
    â€œI don’t need this crap!” Delilah almost tripped when the heel of one of her latest knockoffs became stuck as she tried to cross over the threshold.
    Delilah wanted to move out of the doorway, but couldn’t get the heel of her shoe to twist back into place. So she simply took it off. With one tiny foot bare, Delilah entered and stood defiant and lopsided.
    She and the deacon had shared a lot in the past, but none of it compared to the Twilight Zone moment they shared then.
    Delilah took one look around the living room and fainted, which was also something the deacon wanted to do but couldn’t.
    As Delilah slowly came around she peeked through heavy false eyelashes and found she couldn’t see as clearly as she could hear.
    Jessie folded his arms and stared. It took him a moment to believe his eyes and another moment to find his voice. “What the hell is she doing here?” Jessie’s angry question shot around the room, and if it had been a loaded gun, Delilah would’ve been dead. “Lord, please help me. I don’t believe this is happening. And you’ve laid her on my sofa.”
    If Delilah had wanted to pretend she was still unconscious, she couldn’t have. Deacon Pillar, the bald-faced liar, was literally water-boarding her as he wrung a soaking wet cloth over her face. He looked as though he enjoyed it.
    â€œI just don’t know what to say, Brother Jessie. This is the woman I tried to help. I had no idea you were so against me bringing another woman here unless it was Sister Marty….”
    Delilah ignored the deacon’s feeble attempt to throw her under the bus. Instead, she watched her son with curiosity as Jessie’s eyes glared in her direction. She was sure she could almost