don’t
give
a
DAYYAM!”
Then
he
looked
at
Vanessa
as
she
stepped
out
of
the
cart.
He
grumbled
under
his
breath,
“You’re
married,
but
your wife is Hawaiian-looking. This is who you got your ass kicked
over,
ain’t
it?
Should’ve
called
me,
son.
I
would’ve
vouched
for
you.”
I never considered the owner of my company to be one who
would
provide
a
playa
alibi.
I
just
said,
“I’ll
be
alright.”
He
had
this
look
on
his
face
as
he
said,
“If
you
holding
down
that bad ass redbone you got at home and this nice little chocolate
tasty,
tender
here,
I’m
sure
you
will.”
Vanessa got too close for us to keep speaking under our
breaths.
Mr.
Washington
spoke
to
her
before
I
did.
“Hello,
young
lady.
My
name
is
Russell
Washington.”
Vanessa turned on the charm and did her little curtsy and
returned
the
greeting,
“Hello,
Mr.
Washington.
My
name
is
Vanessa.”
“Well,
aren’t
you
a
breath
of
fresh
air
today?”
Vanessa
shined
her
teeth
as
she
blushed
and
said,
“Thank
you,
Mr.
Washington.
Today
is
my
birthday.”
He
began
to
make
his
exit
and
said,
“Oh,
that’s
wonderful.
Happy
birthday.
Hey,
I’m
gonna
let
you
talk
to
Eric.
He’s
been
up
all
night,
so
don’t
give
him
the
business
too
hard.
Eric,
when
you
finish,
take
off
until
Monday.
I
don’t
want
to
see
hide
nor
hair of
you.
Get
some
rest.
I’ll
hold
it
down
until
then.
Ya’
know
I
got
that
thang…”
I
said,
“Be
careful,
Mr.
Washington.”
He
looked
back
and
said,
“I
will.
Oh,
and
be
ready
to
put
that
demo down when you get back. Busters, know what I
mean?...Young
lady,
enjoy
your
birthday.”
She thanked him. He smiled genuinely and then exchanged that
smile for a counterfeit one. He gripped the white boy security
guard on the back of the neck and they drove away. Nessa and I
143
could
hear
Mr.
Washington
ask,
“You’re
new
here,
right?
Like
your
job?
Um
humh,
I
see.
Want
to
keep
it…?”
Nessa
asked,
“What’s
up
with
all
that?
Homeboy
all
stressed
out.
He
looks
halfway
drunk
and
he’s
out
in
his
pajamas
at
3:30
p.m.
Somebody
need
some
booty
to
release
some
tension.”
I looked at her. She was trying to be funny and suggestive. I said,
“Booty
doesn’t
always
relieve
tension.”
“Shit,
for
me
it
does.
You
can’t
tell?”
She
twirled
around.
The
dress was kind of skimpy, but I used to buy that stuff because I
liked seeing her in it. Then I really liked seeing her out of the dress.
My tastes have matured over time.
She
said,
“I
brought
your
pager.
Either
you’re
hustling
again,
you got some chicken heads on the side, or something because this
thing
is
hot.”
I didn’t
comment
on
that.
I
just
said,
“Just
give
me
the
pager,
Nessa.”
She snatched her hand away and acted like she was going to put
it in her bra. I tilted my head and cut my eyes to let her know that I
didn’t
feel
like
playing
sex
games.
She
asked
seductively,
“How
do
you
ask
Mama
nicely?”
“Nessa,
stop
playing.”
She
threw
the
pager
to
me
and
said,
“Here,
then.
Take
your
old
funky
pager.
Are
you
coming
back
to
finish
me
off
right
tonight?”
“No!”
“No?”
“No,
Negro.
What
part about
that
don’t
you
understand?”
“Hmmh,
you’re
a
fag.”
“I
wasn’t
a
fag
earlier.”
“No
sir,
you
were
not.
Or
you
had
it
well
hidden.”
144
“Nessa,
I
need
to
get
back
to
work.”
“Ain’t
nobody
stopping
you
from
working.
The
man
told
you
to
take off until Monday. Today is Wednesday. That means there can
be a whole lot of Vanessa time between Wednesday and next
Monday.
Plus,
you
need
to
get
your
story
straight
on
what
you’re
going
to
tell
Ms.
Thang.”
I looked at her and thought, If you don’t
get
yo’
ass
away… but
instead,
I
said,
“I
don’t
need
an
accomplice
to
synchronize
a
lie,
thank
you.”
“Whatever.
Suit
yourself.
Why
are
you
back
up
in
here
anyway?
You
just
left?
I
thought
you
were
so
tired.”
I
didn’t
have
to
tell
her
anything.
I
mean,
she
didn’t
have
a
gun
to my head, but I talked while I worked to hurry time and keep her
libido from raging. Well, I tried to keep her libido from raging.
When I told her the value of the lost merchandise, she almost
flipped. She discretely screamed and looked around like she
wondered
if
anybody
was
looking,
“Boy,
did
you
say
twenty-nine
million
dollars?”
I
confirmed
and
verified,
“Yup,
and
that’s
wholesale
value,
plus
the
trailers
themselves.”
She rubbed her legs like a cricked and
said,
“Ooh,
Bingo,
you
did
it,
baby.
I’m
about
to
cream
my
panties.
And
he
wants
you
to
find
all
that
stuff?
How
much
is
he
gonna
give
you?”
“No,
slow
your
roll,
Nessa.
He
wants
me
to
keep
it
from
happening
again,
but
I
don’t
know
about
how
much
my
cut would
be.
We
never
talked
about
it.”
“Is
that
what
he
was
talkin’
about
a
demo
getting
put
down?
Don’t
lie.
He
said
buster(s).
I
thought
he
said
Buster
at
first.
I
know
you,
you
gon’
round
up
some
head
busters
to
get
the
stuff
back.
You’re
a
fool if
you
didn’t
discuss
your
cut
first.
Hmh,
you
must’ve
gone
soft.
The
Bingo
I
know
always
settles
the
money
first.
‘Hold
the
money,
Nessa.’
Remember
that?
I
do.
You
betta
get
in
there
and
work out the ends—the divid-ends. Oooh, I told you, Bingo. I can
feel it. I can feel it. I can feel it. if he just gave you $250,000, do you
145
know what we could do with that type of money in a lump sum,
legal? Fuck some sleep. When you get finished, you need to get in
there
and
negotiate.
Hell,
if
you’re
that
tired,
I’ll
pull a Lewinsky
and
suck
your
dick
under
the
table
to
keep
you
awake.”
“Wa,
huh?
Oh,
you’re
French,
now?
What’s
up
with
this
oui,
shit?”
“We,
nigga!
You
and
me!”
I had to straighten her opportunist ass out quick, fast, and in a
hurry. I said,
“First
of
all,
WE
don’t
work
here.
Second,
if
I
do
it,
it
won’t
be
no
damn
vacation,
so
you
might
want
to
call
the
cruise
director
and
ask
them
to
let
you
off
the
pirate
ship.”
I thought I had checked her. Instead, I got checked. She checked
my drawls
and
said,
“Whatevuh,
nigga!
I
been
riding
stowaway
through the Bermuda Triangle along with hurricanes, tidal waves,
and
all
sorts
of
shit,
and
in
all
this
time
I
haven’t
jumped
overboard.
You
might
want
to
save
that
shit
for
Sheila.
I’ve
been
riding with your slick ass for eighteen years to the day. You damn
near
killed
my
own
big
brother,
I’ve
seen
you,
and
I
lied
to
the
cops
and
on
the
stand
about
it.
It’s
time
for
Nessa
to
be
on
the
promenade deck, ordering drinks and shit from Isaac and playing
shuffleboard.
I
don’t
think
homegirl’s
gonna
make
it
when
she
sees
that look in your eyes and on your face while you got a gun in your
hand. Fuck a Bonnie and Clyde, dawg. Nessa and Bingo, come
through
on
niggas
like
Kaiser
Sohze.
I
signed
up
for
it
ALL.”
The look on her face when she said that spoke volumes for so
many other things that had crossed my mind. I had been impressed
by some of the insight Bev had, but nothing had been
consummated, so there was that air of intrigue—but that was
really all it was—had I chosen to cut it off right then. Vanessa, on
the other hand, was concrete—reinforced concrete—with steel
bars and expansion joints. I was really the scarecrow playing with
fire when it came to Vanessa. The irony of the situation would be,
who in their right mind could call her a gold digger or anything like
that? Nobody could doubt that she paid her dues with me, and she
was the first person to announce that she had arrived to claim her
prize. Different thoughts were flashing through my mind at light
speed about all the lies that I had tried to cover and how they
146
would interact with the new ones I seemed to be creating on a
daily
basis.
If
she
wasn’t
good
for
anything
else,
I
have
to
admit
that she has always been very good for making me think.
Sometimes the thoughts came after the inciting incident, but
hindsight is better than no sight. Then, the obvious – or what
should have been the obvious – ran through my mind. I asked her,
“Hey,
are
you
on
the
pill?”
She looked at me like I was crazy and
said,
“Did
you
see
me
take
a
pill?”
“Don’t
play,
Nessa,
dammit!”
“Who
said
I
was
playing,
Bingo,
dammit!?”
I was sick with myself. I asked her the stupidest question on the
planet,
“Well,
what
if
you
get
pregnant?”
“What
if?
Shit, you only got two things to consider—boy, girl, or
both..”
“That’s
more
than
two.”
“So
kill
me.”
I
wanted
to.
I
didn’t
have
a
rebuttal
for
her.
She
said,
“I
won’t
get
pregnant.
It’s
not
time.”
“Time?
The
fuck?
Time
for
fuckin’
is
time
for
gettin’
pregnant…”
“No
it
ain’t,
Einstein.
You
let
me
worry
about
that.
Now,
bring
your ass over there slipping and wanting to ride bareback next
week
and
you’ll
get
more
than
boiled
eggs
for
Easter.
But
listen,
we
need
to
talk
about
the
money.”
I
wrapped
up
and
started
loading
the
tool
box
and
said,
“No.
I’m
finished.
I
need
to
talk
about
some
sleep.”
I
packed
up
the
boxes
and the rest of the tools. I turned the remote control device on and
operated all of the fences from my laptop. Everything was up and I
was on my way home. Guilty conscience, baggage, enlightenment,
and
all.
I
kissed
Vanessa,
although
I
knew
I
shouldn’t
have,
and
went home.
On the drive home, I came to the beginning of understanding
that my emotional life and involvement with Vanessa resembled
147
our experience at junior year Homecoming, just played over and
over again in different ways and with different scenery. I had gone
steady with her all throughout high school; everybody knew she
was my girlfriend and vice-versa. She knew I would step out and
dibble
or
dabble
in
this
one
or
that
one’s
panties,
but
I
always
came
back to her. Usually the case would be that I considered being with
somebody else because somebody was new to the school, and all
the dudes were competing for
the
new
cute
girls’
attention.
Or,
I
would meet some girl somewhere who seemed to be nice and a
change of pace from some of the recourse of the things I had done
to Vanessa. Every now and then, I felt like I was missing out on
something, but the reality of my constant return to Vanessa was
that after I had dealt with somebody else to whatever level of
intimacy, I always came to the same old conclusion—that I was
comfortable and content with Vanessa. I knew her, and I knew
what to expect from her. For junior homecoming, she and I both
got on our hind legs about two weeks before the dance, and
decided
to
‘break
up.’
I
acted
like
the
dance
was
no
big
deal;
I
wished later that I had gone. Actually I wished immediately after
the dance was over that I had not only gone, but had taken her as
my date. She went alone. She got all dressed up and decided that I
wasn’t
going
to
ruin
her
happiness.
One
of
the
dudes
from
the
neighborhood
came
by,
and
he
and
I
got
high.
He
really
wasn’t
even anybody I should have been hanging out with. Any of my
friends or even teammates were at the dance where I should have
been.
About
one
o’clock
that
night,
I
walked
by
Vanessa’s
house
and
saw
that
the
light
was
on
in
her
and
Florence’s
room.
I
went
to
tap
on the window. I kind of stood on my tiptoes to peek in the glass,
and I saw her sitting on her bed looking like she had just finished
crying. She was wiping her make-up
off.
Florence
wasn’t
there.
I
tapped on the window and startled her a little. She turned around,
looked, and whispered,
“Who’s
out
there?”
I
tapped
again,
stood
back,
and
said,
“Nessa,
open
the
window.
Nessa,
it’s
me,
Bingo.
Open
the
window
before
somebody
calls
the
police.”
She
came
to
the
window
and
said,
“Go
home,
dummy.
I
don’t
feel like being bothered
with
you
right
now.
You’re
probably
high.”
148
I was still a little high, but the buzz had begun to wear off, and
seeing her crying was immediately sobering. I crept closer to the
house as a car passed and the lights glared around the side of the
house. I had my back to the wall and I looked up to
say,
“Come
on,
Nessa.
Open
the
window.”
“I’m
not
opening
no
window.
Mama
is
gone
to
a
revival.
If
you
want to come in, walk through the front door, like somebody who
got
some
sense.”
Well
shit,
she
didn’t
say
her
mother
was
gone.
I
was
out
there
looking like a real prowler, and all the time she could have just told
me to go to the front door? Anyway, when I went to the front door,
she opened it quickly and I walked in. she stood there and asked
me,
“What
is
so
important
that
you
gotta
come
over here in the
middle
of
the
damned
night?”
I
kind
of
fumbled,
but
I
asked
her,
“How
was
the
dance?”
“What
dance?
Who
said
I
danced?
If
you
wanted
to
know,
you
should
have
gone.”
“Come
on,
just
tell
me
how
the
damned
dance
went.”
She stood there prepared to give me every piece of her mind
she could spare with attitude sauce dripped all over it. She said,
“This
ain’t
even
funny.
Get
outta
my
house.
I
was
almost
stupid
enough
to
describe
the
dumb
dance
to
you,
too.
You’re
not
gon’
keep doing me wrong. Maybe tonight was the lesson Mama been
telling
me
I
was
gon’
get
about
you.
sooner
shole
do
feel
worse
than
later,
but
it’s
over
now
so…”
I
begged,
“Come
on,
Nessa.
Just
tell
me
about
the
dance.
You
know how we do. Who looked crazy? Whose
clothes
didn’t
fit
or
whatever?”
She and I were pretty popular, and we usually criticized and
‘scored’
on
everybody.
Ya
know,
one
of
those
self-esteem salvaging
activities when people are really self-conscious about themselves
so they ridicule others?
Vanessa
didn’t
fall
into
the
usual
fold
of
that comment. She demonstrated her maturity and exposed the
lack
of
mine.
She
said,
“It
was
nice.
Even
Deanna
Bailey
looked
149
really good. Everybody always talks about her being big or
whatever, but she looked really cute. Her hair was the pretties out
of
everybody
there,
even
me.
Everybody
had
a
good
time.”
“Nobody
fell
off
their
high
heels
or
nothing?
Nobody
was
drunk?”
“Everybody
had
a
good
time
except
me.
Mr.
Kennedy
and
his
wife were there. Mr. Salinas even brought his girlfriend who is
black,
and
she
looks
like
she
is
on
a
soap
opera,
she
so
pretty.”
“Why
didn’t
you
have
a
good
time?”
“Don’t
play
stupid.”
“No,
serious,
Nessa.
Just
because
I’m
somewhere
else
don’t
mean you can’t
dance
and
have
a
good
time.”
“Dance
with
who?”
“I
don’t
know…shit,
dance
with
somebody
else—anybody—
somebody
who
didn’t
come
with
a
date.
Dancing
don’t
mean
you
have
to
go
home
with
‘em.
Matta
fact,
how
did
you
get
home?”
“Nice
of
you
to ask now. For your information, I took a cab
there, and I took one back. And for your infinite wisdom, there was
nobody
else
there,
but
me,
who
didn’t
have
a
date.”
I
couldn’t
believe
that.
I
asked,
“Nigga,
please.
Chico
had
a
date?”
“Yes.”
I
looked
at
her.
She
chuckled
a
little
and
said,
“He
might
have
paid
her,
but
he
had
a
date.
Besides
that,
I
don’t
love
Chico.
I
should
never
be
without
a
date
or
a
companion
for
anything.”
“Why
is
that?
Girl,
don’t
you
know
what
Juneteenth
is
about?
They
told
us
we’re
free.
You
don’t
have
no
slaves
and
you
don’t
have
no
kids,
so…”
“So
the
fuck
what?
I’m
supposed
to
have
somebody
who
says
he
loves
me…”
150
She poked me in my nose with her finger and pushed my head
back
and
continued,
“So I should never have to be or feel alone in
body
or
in
spirit.
Broke
up
or
not,
you’re
my
man.
Well,
I
guess
my
BOY-friend is more like it. People were looking at me like they
finally
waited
to
show
me,
I
ain’t
shit
because
I’m
with
you
and
now they had proof. All the dudes who heard we broke up and
asked
me
to
the
dance
looked
at
me
like
‘um,
that’s
what
you
get
for
being
sadiddy
and
turning
folks
down.’
”
I knew she was embarrassed. I was really goofy and immature
back then, so I felt like laughing at what she said. I was really trying
to
hold
it
in,
but
it
came
up
in
bubbling
chuckles
as
I
said,
“Nessa,
I
never
told
you
to
turn
anybody
down.
You
could’ve
gone
to
the
dance
with
somebody.”
She
didn’t
see
anything
funny.
She
gritted
her
teeth
and
said,
“I
didn’t
want
to
go
to
the
dance,
and
I
don’t
want
to
go
to
the
altar,
the
hospital,
or
no
gotdamn
where
else
with
nobody
else
but
you.”
That made me stop laughing. I straightened my mind and my
face
to
ask
her,
“How
are
you
so
sure
of
that, Vanessa? I mean
seriously.
We’re
not
even
out
of
high
school.”
“
‘Cause
I
know.
That’s
all
you
need
to
know.
If
I
get
pregnant,
you got me pregnant. If I get a disease, you gave it to me. If I ever
need a kidney or something, you better be the one to give it to me,
‘cause
I’ll
give
it
to
you.”
“What
about
when
you
go
to
college
and
all
that?”
“College
is
everywhere
in
the
country.
Even
if
you
went
to
somewhere like Morehouse, I can go to Spelman. Any other
questions?”
“Yeah,
just
one.”
“What?”
“Why
me,
Nessa?
I
really
ain’t
nobody.
So what I can throw a
baseball?
I
don’t
come
from
money.
Mama
been
busting
her
feet
all
our
lives.
Melvin
ain’t
nobody,
but
you
know
that
already.
If
me
and
Buster
and
Manny
make
it
out
the
ward,
it’s
‘cause
God
finally
had
pity
on
us.”
151
“You
and
Buster and
Manny
ain’t
all
tied
at
the
hip.
If
you
really
had your head on straight, you would know that throwing that
stupid baseball could get you and everybody you love—or I guess
supposed to love—outta
the
ward
for
good.
You
don’t
ever
have
to
look back. Or, if you do, it can be to teach somebody else how to
make it. Everybody else in school talking a good game about what
they want to do in the future, but you have the future right there
literally
in
your
hand,
dummy.
God
don’t
need
to
pity
you.
Or
if
he
do, it’s
because
you’re
so
smart
about
other
stuff,
but
you’re
too
stupid about knowing that you been blessed like my mama keep
telling
you.
And
don’t
act
like
your
mama
and
Auntie
Millie
and
Auntie
Fay
don’t
tell
you,
too.”
Vanessa has always been able to fully undress me emotionally
and leave me feeling so small., but I always have to say that 95% of
the time. She was correct in her assessments. They might be
slightly tinted by her motivations for delivering the message at
that time, but damn, she would be right on the money.
I tried to apologize to her, but there was no way to take it all
back. She always forgave me for everything, and I think that may
have been part of the reason why I stayed in my state of ignorance.
I used to really feel like I wanted her to just shut the hell up
sometime, but she was telling me the truth. I used to get upset at
her for stripping me down to where I needed to be. I was truly too
stupid to know what a gift of love she was giving me. I used to have
the dream about duct taping her mouth shut. That duct taping
thing later became a signature move for me before I shot
somebody.
I
don’t
know
if
I
had
told
Vanessa
way
back
then
that
I
was losing my mind if she would have stuck by me or pushed me
away. I know now that I even knew then, that she loved me.
I offered to help her out of her dress. She looked at me like she
knew I was trying to insinuate that she allow me to get her out of
her
clothes.
She
said,
“I’m
not
one
of
those
skeezers
you
tip
around
with.
I
don’t
let anybody but my boyfriend touch me. So, no. I can
take
my
dress
off
by
myself,
thank
you.”
I knew what that meant. She wanted definition that we were
back
together.
But,
she
wouldn’t
accept
it
if
not
presented
to
her
correctly.
It
wasn’t
just
the
lure of sex that made me act right. I
152
knew that she deserved the respect I needed to show her. I said,
“Vanessa,
will
you
be
my
girlfriend
again?”
She
looked
at
me
and
answered,
“For
right
now.
But
I’m
telling
you
that
I
don’t
plan
on
being
your
girlfriend
forever.”
I
asked,
“What
does
that
mean?
You’re
trying
to
give
me
a
contract
with
an
expiration
date?”
She turned and lifted her hair up for me to reach the zipper on
her
dress.
She
said,
“You
figure
it
out.
People
don’t
take
girlfriends
to
New
York
or
Atlanta
or
Oakland.”
Those were the cities of my favorite baseball teams. I loved
Dwight Gooden, Darryl Strawberry, Hank Aaron, and Ricky
Henderson. Those were the people I modeled my game skills after.
We went back to her room and
made
love.
That
wasn’t
the
first
or the last time I had crept up in there, but it was the first and only
time I got caught. Florence came home from her creep in the early
booty-butt
crack
of
dawn
hours.
I
was
still
naked
in
Vanessa’s
bed,
sleeping beside her. Florence whipped the sheets back and
smacked
me
on
my
butt
and
yelled,
“If
you
don’t
get
yo’
raggedy
ass
up
outta
here
b’fo’
Mama
come
home…”
I jumped up, and scuffled to get my clothes off the floor. She
stared at me while I tried to turn to the side to dress discretely.
Vanessa sat there in her bed with her knees bent into her chest, but
not in shame. She looked very confident and said to Florence,
“Damn,
girl
he’s
gettin’
dressed.
You
staring
won’t
make
it
happen
no
faster.”
Florence cut
her
eyes,
but
she
was
still
staring.
She
said,
“You
better
be
glad
I
don’t
tell
Mama.”
Vanessa
said,
“Heifer,
please.
You
need
to
come
up
with
a
reason why you were out so late yourself. And you left with a bra
on, so you can just shut right on up. Your secrets are safe with me,
just like MY secret is safe with you. Now if you got something else
to
lose,
go
on
and
trip.
I’m
still
seventeen;
just
turned
seventeen.
You’re
old
enough
to
get
your
own
little
spot
and
be
able
to
have
153
over, or come and go, whoever or whenever you want. Now, you
said
something
about
telling
Mama.
What
was
it
again?”
Florence
tried
to
get
funky
and
say,
“He
need
to
get
his
little
yella
ass
on
home.”
Vanessa
defended,
“You
shole
staring
long
enough
to
know
he
ain’t
yella.
He’s
caramel.
And
he’s
mine,
so
you
can
leave
until
I
see
him to the door. You should be hungry or something. Go fix
something.”
What did I learn from all that? And what lessons have been
preserved or not preserved to make me feel that we have been
replaying this whole scene out over and over in different ways?
Well,
many
times
people
don’t
want
to
fully
accept
their
first
option because we think there is more or better available in the
future.
It’s
like
that
old
adage,
‘As
soon
as
you
get
together with
somebody, everybody who seemed to be paying you no attention is
interested
in
you.’
I
always
wondered
what
else
was
out
there,
and
I neglected so many of the blessings that were right before my
eyes. The worst part about my revelation about Vanessa was that
by the time I could truly see her in the light and splendor for all
who she was and was not and appreciate it, I had fallen in love
with Sheila. I have not fallen out of love with Sheila, and I am sure
that Vanessa would never want to hear that I learned to appreciate
her influence in my life, because I had to grow up to receive all the
blessings of being married to someone else.
154
Chapter 15
I
was
sure
that
my
arrival
at
home
after
being
at
Vanessa’s
and
work all day would be no less of any action-packed crowd pleaser,
but by the time I had gotten everything finished, put away, and got
to my truck, it was already rush hour. Houston rush hour is no
joke.
I
didn’t
make
it
home
or
even
to
my
neighborhood
until
almost 4:50. I drive by the baseball
diamond;
I
saw
Anthony’s
bike
chained to the fence, so I knew he was there. I pulled into the
parking lot that is closer to the diamond and saw him at the plate.
He looked just like me. He had his hat twisted to the back and had
his sleeves rolled up over his shoulders, just like I used to do. I
thought to myself, Your
mother
must
just
sit
around
and
tell
‘when
your
daddy
was
little’
stories.
I honked the horn to let him know I
was there. His face lit up. He waved and started showboating just
like me. He pointed out to where he would hit the ball. I saw an old
clip of Babe Ruth when he pointed out to left field and hit the ball
over the high fence at Wrigley Field. I picked that up and it became
one of my moves. It was obviously something Anthony copied from
me, who copied it from somebody else. On offense I wanted to be
Darryl Strawberry or Hank Aaron. I wanted to be like Ricky
Henderson stealing bases, and I wanted to throw smoke like
Dwight Gooden. In real life, I was screwing my life up just like
Dwight and Darryl. The little Mexican boy pitched to Anthony. He
was a good pitcher. Alvarez y Hernandez. Everybody in town
always goes to watch him pitch. He looks too young to be in
Anthony’s
age
group,
but
he
can
sling
the
rock
like
an
old
man.
His
cousins,
Domingo
and
Hector
Fuentes,
are
Anthony’s
nemeses
in
soccer. Alvarez y Hernandez pitched a no-hitter last year to knock
Anthony’s
team,
the
Panthers,
out
of
the
bracket
to
advance
and
represent the city of Houston at the Little League World Series.
That day, he caught Anthony slipping on the first pitch. Anthony
needed to concentrate and take the boy seriously. The boy put a
curve out there, and Anthony swung like he was trying to catch
butterflies.
Then
the
boy
used
a
knuckler
to
1,
2,
3,
get
Anthony’s
ass out of there. I was a distraction. Anthony pouted and pounded
his bat on the ground in frustration. He looked at me in shame. I
pointed to my temple to signal to him that he needed to think. He
pointed to his temple and nodded his head to show me that he
understood. I honked again to let him know that I was leaving, and
pointed to my watch to let him know it was getting late. I honked
155
again to let him know I meant business. He pointed his bat to the
scoreboard. Oh, okay. I saw it was the seventh inning. He was
telling me that the game was almost over and that he would be
home soon. Okay.
As
I
passed
Bev’s,
I
waved.
I
didn’t
need
for
her
to
see
me
all
beat up. She was setting her sprinklers out, looking delicious, of
course. She waved back and smiled. I drove on home. At 2933 Tres
Logos, my house, all three garage doors were open. That mean
Maritsa was there. She has never been able to get just one door to
open automatically by itself. They are all on separate units, but for
some odd reason, her remote control opens all three doors. I
pulled up in front instead of driving around back to park. Sheila
was in the front yard with the water hose, spraying Makayla. Brian
was being a brat. Maritsa was holding him while he rested his head
on her chest and sucked his thumb. He looked like he was playing
in the water at first, but had gotten cranky as he started to lose his
daily bout with the evening sandman. Makayla had on a little
ballerina-looking outfit. When they saw me drive up, Maritsa
smiled and pointed
as
she
said,
“Mira,
esta
su
Papa.”
I got out of the truck, and Makayla turned to me and yelled,
“Hola,
Papa!”
The
kids
speak
Spanish.
Brian
can’t
speak
back,
but
he responds. Even Anthony is almost fluent because of Maritsa.
When she got close to me,
she
said,
“¿Ojala,
Qué
paso,
mijo?
¿Tenia
una
lucha?
¿Quién
te
peleaste?”
That
immediately
caught
Sheila’s
attention. Her greeting smile fell. She rushed to me and asked
Maritsa
to
take
the
children
inside.
Tears
began
to
fall
from
Sheila’s
eyes. She asked,
“Eric,
what
happened?
I
was
trying
to
get
in
touch
with
you
all
day.
Who
did
you
fight?”
I must have really looked like shit. She stared at me like I
appeared ready to die.
I
said,
“It’s
no
big
deal.
Sheila,
I’m
tired.
I
have
so
much
to
tell
you,
but
I
am
sooo
tired.”
Her nurse instincts kicked in. She wrapped her arms around me
to
hold
me
up
and
help
me
walk
as
she
said,
“No,
baby,
you
stay
awake. This could be a concussion, or you could have brain
swelling
or
internal
injuries.
You’re
not
sixteen
anymore,
and
156
fatigue
after
trauma
can
mean
a
lot
more
than
you
think.
We’re
going
to
the
hospital.”
I
had
to
calm
her
and
say,
“No,
baby,
it’s
not
that
serious.
I
just
need
some
sleep.
I
have
to
lay
down
because
I
never
got
any
rest.”
We
walked
inside
and
went
straight
to
our
bedroom.
I
didn’t
get
one boot fully unlaced before she went fully off. She tried to yell
without
fully
yelling,
“What
the
hell,
Eric.
You look like somebody
attacked you with a running lawnmower. You remind me of when
you
came
to
the
hospital
all
swollen
and
bruised.”
That description put a whole new spin on my interpretation of
the
extent
of
my
injuries.
I
didn’t
think
they
were
so bad. Ms.
Caldwell obviously did; so did Mr. Washington. I shoved my other
boot off with my foot and laid back into the pillows. Sheila asked,
“Who
did
you
fight?”
I
took
a
deep
breath
and
said,
“Vanessa.”
Sheila’s
mouth
fell
wide
open.
Her
eyes bulged big as saucers.
She
asked
desperately,
“Oh,
Eric,
you
didn’t
hurt
her
bad,
did
you?
Where
is
she?
She
didn’t
call
the
cops?”
“No,
she’s
fine.
I
didn’t
touch
her
back.
She
got
all
upset
and
went
off
on
me.”
Sheila was relieved, but then became infuriated and yelled,
“About
what
this
time?
And
who
the
hell
is
she
to
attack
you
for
whatever
it
was?
I
don’t
care,
she
has
no
right
to
do
this
to
you,
for
any
reason.”
“She
didn’t
like
how
I
responded
when
she
told
me
she
planned
to get pregnant
with
Anthony.”
“She
what?”
“Yeah,
today
was
her
birthday
and
she
called
me
to
make
a
bunch
of
confessions.”
“Today?”
“Yeah.”
157
“That
bitch
came
to
my
house
clowning?
She
don’
crossed
the
lie
now…”
“No…”
“No? She
came
to
your
job?”
I
didn’t
answer
that
one
quick
enough.
Sheila
drew
her
own
conclusions
and
demanded,
“What
were
you doing over her house in the middle of the work day? And why
wasn’t
she
at
work?”
Although I was legitimately exhausted, I felt like that was the
perfect time to conveniently become too tired to respond.
158
Chapter 16
I
fell
asleep
and
didn’t
move.
When
I
woke
up,
it
was
strangely
still
evening
time.
I
sat
up;
I
wasn’t
dressed
any
more.
I
was
sore,
and it felt like I had a hangover. Right after I sat up Sheila walked in
with laundry. She was dressed differently. I must have slept the
whole twenty-four
hours.
She
smiled
at
me
and
said,
“Well,
well,
welcome
back
to
the
world.”
She
didn’t
know
it,
and
I
knew
she
didn’t
mean
to
offend
me,
but
that
comment
reminded
me
of
the
day when I came out of the coma. That was what Auntie Fay said to
me,
‘Welcome
back
to
the
world.’
This
time
was
different;
I
didn’t
have
to
go
through
therapy
and
recovery.
I
didn’t
feel
like
jumping
right up, but I knew if I had to, I could. Sheila sat next to me and
hugged
me.
I
kissed
her
and
proclaimed,
“I
love
you,
Sheila.”
I
laid
into her receptive arms, and she kissed me back. I felt like I had my
third
chance
at
life,
and
I
knew
I
couldn’t
blow it.
Bev and Vanessa were right. Something was getting ready to
change or happen for me, and I could feel it myself, then. Sheila
asked if I was hungry and if I wanted to eat in bed. Hell yeah, I was
starving.
But,
then….no.
I
had
a
better
idea.
I said,
“Sheila,
I
have
to
go
to
the
ward.
If
I
hurry
up,
I’ll
make
it
in
time
to
eat
dinner
at
my
mama’s
house
tonight.”
She
laughed
in
disbelief
and
asked,
“Who’s
eating
dinner
at
your
mama’s
house
tonight?”
“Me.”
“Boy,
please.
Your
mama
will
kill
you.
If
she
comes
home
from
usher board meeting and finds you on her doorstep, you are
D.O.A.”
That kind of hurt, but it was true, or a safe assumption at the
least.
I
defiantly
said,
“I’ll
have
to
see
that
for myself.”
“No,
you
won’t
let
sleeping
dogs
lie.”
“No.”
I did jump up with zeal and went to the shower. Sheila was
stunned. All she could say as I passed her with a determined aura
about
me
was,
“But,
Eric…?”
159
When I came out of the shower,
I
was
still
wet
so
she
couldn’t
tell what was water or what was tears. I had one of those soul-
cleansing cries in the shower. I grabbed some clothes from the
laundry
basket.
As
I
dressed,
she
said,
“Vanessa
called
yesterday.”
I continued to dress
and
asked,
“And?”
“Had
a
bunch
of
apologies.
Sounded
more
like
she
was
trying
to
probe me for information. She wanted to know if Anthony had seen
you.”
I
asked,
“So
what
did
you
say?
Did
she
ask
to
speak
to
Anthony?”
“I
didn’t
say
shit.
Anthony
was
still
playing
baseball.
That’s
all
I
needed
to
say.
I
let
her
do
all
the
talking.
Plus,
I
didn’t
need
to
hear
none of her mess. I want to hear your side of the story first before I
say
anything
to
either
of
you
about
it.”
I
asked,
“Hand
me
my
shoes,
please?”
“Did
you
hear
what
I
said?”
“I
heard
you…”
“Okay,
and?”
“Do
you
want
the
short
version
now,
or
the
long
version
later?”
“Well,
seeing
as
you’re
already
dressed,
I
guess
I’ll
wait
for
the
long, undressed
version
later.”
She
had
a
peculiar,
inviting
look
on
her face. My wife is a real woman in all senses of the word. I
decided right then that I had to stop all the madness and do
whatever I had to do to put everything and everybody in their
respective places.
Sheila
didn’t
think
it
was
a
good
idea
at
all
for
me
to
go
to
Mama’s
unannounced,
but
she
tried
to
encourage
me
to
be
strong and as confident as I could be. She started fussing over me
to make sure I was presentable. She brushed my hair and treated
me like it was my first day of school. We walked downstairs into
the kitchen, and the kids and Maritsa were eating. Well, Anthony
and Makayla were eating. Brian was throwing his food. When they
saw
me
walk
in,
Anthony
immediately
started,
“Daddy,
you
missed
160
it.
I
put
Alvarez
over
the
fence
twice
today.
I’ll
be
ready
for
the
Yellow
Jackets
on
Saturday.”
I scrubbed his head with my hand, smiled at him, and said,
“Good.
Just
stop
showboating
and
play
your
game.”
He
conceded,
“Yeah,
he
got
me
yesterday.”
I looked him in his eyes. He has always looked so much just like
me. That day, it was like looking at myself, though. I said to him,
“Don’t
worry.
Sometimes
we
have
to
get
beat
to
know
how
to
come
back.”
He looked at me like a grown man and
asked,
“Hey,
Daddy?”
“Yes,
Anthony.”
“Mom
scratch
you
up
like
that?”
I was feeling pretty good, but Sheila knew that comment hurt.
She
squeezed
my
hand
for
strength.
I
responded,
“Yes,
uh…yes,
she
did.”
He looked me in my eyes to see if I would lie to him. He put his
fork
down
to
concentrate
as
he
asked,
“Did
you
hit
her
back?”
The
tears
burned
as
they
rolled
down
my
cheeks.
I
replied,
“No,
son.
No,
I
didn’t
hit
her
back.”
He
had
a
look
of
resolve
on
his
face
as he turned back around and asked Maritsa if he could be excused
from
the
table.
She
asked
why
because
he
wasn’t
finished eating.
He
said,
“I
gotta
call
Aunt
Florence.”
I
asked,
“What
do
you
have
to
say
to
Florence
that’s
so
urgent?”
He looked upset and very angry. He started to cry, and it hurt me
really bad to see it. he sniffed to get himself together and said,
“Tell
her
she’s
wrong.
She’s
always
got
something
to
say
about…”
Sheila
said,
“No,
Anthony,
sweetheart.
That’s
not
the
way
to
handle
that.”
Maritsa
said,
“Anthony,
look
at
me.
That’s
not
right.
You
know
I
won’t
tell
you
anything
wrong.”
161
He argued,
“But
I
get
tired
of
her
always
running
her
mouth.”
I
tried
to
interject,
“Son,
Florence
is
an
adult,
your
elder…”
He must have really been witness to some vile things she had
said about me. He had never been disrespectful to Sheila, Maritsa,
or ever tried to buck me. I was terrified because I saw a rage in my
son’s
eyes,
and
I
was
familiar
with
it.
That
was
the
look
Vanessa
talked about Sheila being afraid of when I would have a gun in my
hand.
Anthony
didn’t
cower
to
me
one
bit
when
he
declared,
“She
don’t
act
like
it.
The
next
time
she
gets
high
and
wants
to
get
in
my
face
and
talk
all
slick,
I’m
going
to
punch
her
in
the
mouth!”
God, that scared me. Not only that he thought it, but he was
vocal and forthright about it. Sheila looked at me in desperation.
I had to do something. It took all of whatever I have inside me to
say,
“No.
no,
you
are
not.
And
don’t
ever
let
me
find
out
that
that
even
crossed
your
mind,
ever
again!”
I
didn’t
know
where
or
at
exactly
what
age
I
went wrong—if it
was at twelve years of age or not, but I was determined to nip his
detour in the bud before it ever became a question. I told him,
“Finish
eating.
You’re
going
with
me.”
He
sat
back
down,
picked
up
his
fork,
and
asked,
“Where?”
“Grandma’s
house.”
I guess that broke the tension for him. He kind of laughed with
his
mouth
full
like
he
didn’t
believe
me.
At
first
I
was
going
to
go
alone, but then I had a bright idea. I could kill two birds with one
stone. He hurried to finish eating. His cheeks were full like a little
chipmunk,
so
Maritsa
wouldn’t
excuse
him
from
the
table
until
he
ate like he was civilized. I drank a glass of juice and nibbled a little
from
Sheila’s
plate
while
Anthony
washed
his
hands
and
went
to
his room to get his cap.
He
still
didn’t
believe
that
we
were
going
to
Mama’s
house.
He
kept
punching
me
in
the
shoulder
and
asking,
“Seriously,
Daddy,
where
are
we
going?”
“Just
get
in
the
truck.”
162
Makayla
saw
him
with
his
cap
on
and
screamed,
“I
wanna
go!
I
wanna go!”
Anthony
walked
back
over
to
her
and
said,
“We’re
going
somewhere
for
men.
You
can’t
go.
You’re
still
a
squirt.”
She
pouted,
“I’m
not
a
squirt.”
He
kissed
Maritsa
and
Sheila
on
their cheeks. Before he fully turned away, Maritsa pulled at his
shorts
to
stop
him
and
say,
“We’re
gonna
talk.”
He was shamed by her admonishment. He just nodded his head
and accepted his fate. We got in the truck and I drove off. He was
silent most of the way. He knew his way from Sugar Land to the
ward, and he seemed very surprised that we were making a
beeline
straight
to
Mama’s
house.
But
when
we
got
to
Lincoln
Avenue,
Mama’s
street,
he
had
a
funny
look
on
his
face.
He
knew
where
he
was;
maybe
he
just
didn’t
believe
I
was
going
inside.
When I pulled up in front of the walk, he looked shocked and
puzzled. He kept looking around like he expected something to
happen. I got out of the truck; he sat there dumbfounded.
I walked around the truck and looked back at him and said,
“Come
on.”
He was used to me dropping him off, if I ever took him. Usually
Sheila or Vanessa took him or came to pick him up. They were both
welcomed
and
allowed
inside
where
I
obviously
wasn’t.
He
stepped outside the truck door to see me open the gate and go up
the walk. He asked me, “Daddy,
you’re
going
in?
For
real?”
“Yeah.”
He
tried
to
trick
me
and
said,
“She
ain’t
home.
Come
on,
Daddy,
we’ll
come
back
another
day.”
I
knew
she
was
there.
I
said,
“Yes,
she
is.
Mama
just
got
home
from usher board meeting. Hear that? That’s
‘No
Ways
Tired’
playing
on
a
record.
You’ve
never
played
a
record
before.
That’s
her
ghetto
burglar
alarm.
Nobody
who
don’t
feel
like
being
preached
to
better
come
over
here.
Anyway,
Mama
is
here.
I’m
getting ready to knock on the door unless you want
to.”
163
He closed the truck door and tried to reason with me as he
approached. He still kept looking side to side down both ends of
the
block.
He
said,
“Nawl,
Daddy.
Grandma’ll
lose
her
mind.
She
already
gets
mad
quick
when
she
don’t
take
her
medicine.”
“What
medicine?”
“Her
medicine.
She
takes
a
lot
of
medicine.
Mama
Sheila
brings
it
for
her
from
the
hospital
so
it
doesn’t
cost
so
much.
You
didn’t
think
this
out.
We
should
come
back.”
I was trying to figure out what he was saying and what he
wasn’t
saying.
Anthony
grabbed
my
hand
and
tried
to
drag
me
away
and
said,
“You’re
my
dad,
but
I’m
the
man
of
the
house
over
here,
and
I’m
the
man
of
the
house
at
Mom’s.
I’ll
come
back
this
weekend
and
start
setting
it
all
up.
This
isn’t
right.
We’re
coming
back.”
He began walking back to the truck. I let his hand go and
stopped
walking
back
with
him.
I
didn’t
know
if
I
had
ever
heard
anything as painful as my son declaring that he was the man I
wasn’t.
The picture became crystal clear. That was why I hated Melvin
so much. He put that load on my shoulders way before I was
prepared
to
accept
it,
and
I
messed
up
a
lot
of
people’s
lives
trying
to get the combination of responsibilities and reasoning right. I
walked
to
my
mother’s
door
and
right,
wrong, or indifferent, I was
going to face all my demons, even the ones I had created for myself,
right there, on that night. I was about to knock when Anthony ran
up
in
front
of
me
and
said,
“No,
Daddy.
Let
me
do
it.”
He wedged himself between me and the door and rang the
doorbell.
Mama
called
out,
“Who
is
it?”
“It’s
me,
Grandma,
Tony.”
Mama
rushed
to
open
the
door
and
said,
“It’s
late,
baby.
How’d
you
get
her
and
where’s
your
key?”
Her
smile
dropped
when
she
saw me behind him. She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside
like she needed to protect him from me. After he was inside, she
164
stood in the doorway. It was awkward to say the least. She looked
worn over the years. She had lost weight and had gained a lot of
gray hair since the last time I saw her up close. From what I could
see, the house still looked the same inside. We stood there staring
each other down, and I wondered if she was taking mental pictures
of
me
like
I
was
of
her.
I’m
sure
she
wondered
why
I
was
so
tattered.
She broke
the
silence
by
saying,
“Mr.
Grimes.”
My
eyes
were
too
dehydrated
to
cry
any
more.
I
said,
“Mama,
do
you
think
you’ll
ever
love
me
again?”
She
looked
straight
through
me
and
said,
“God
loves
you,
Patrick.”
Only Mama and Auntie Fay still call me by my middle name.
I
asked,
“What
about
you?”
She
said
sharply
and
didn’t
cut
me
any
slack,
“It
wouldn’t
matter
because
you
don’t
love
yourself.”
“It’s
always
mattered,
Mama.”
She
looked
back
at
Anthony
and
said,
“Go
get
me
your baby
pictures
off
my
dresser.”
He
looked
funny,
but
he
walked
away.
He
didn’t
get
it
at
first,
but
I
did.
He came back with a puzzled look on his face. He was pointing
and
said,
“Grandma,
there’s
never
been
a
picture
of
me
as
a
baby
on your dresser.”
She
made
her
point.
Even
if
I
didn’t
claim
him,
that
didn’t
give
me
the right to exclude him from her life or from his. I tried to defend
myself
by
saying,
“That
was
a
long
time
ago,
Mama.”
She pointed her finger in my face and jumped at me. She scared me
and
I
flinched
when
she
said,
“No!
Eternity
is
a
long
time,
Patrick!”
She was cutting me in half, and I knew where she was going. I
was brave enough to stand there and deal with it, but I wished
Anthony
didn’t
have
to
see
it.
But,
no
matter
what I needed to go
165
through,
it
would
be
worth
it
so
my
children
didn’t
have
to
grow
up with the emotional and spiritual issues I did. Mama is only
about five-foot three, maybe four, and she might weigh one
hundred
twenty
pounds
soaking
wet,
but
that
didn’t
stop her from
snatching me up by my shirt and pulling me inside with one hand.
She slammed the door with the other hand, and threw me down
into the Victorian chair by the door. She stepped right in my face
with
a
loaded
gun
finger
pointed,
and
scolded
me.
“You took
people’s
lives,
Patrick!
Then
before
you
could
repent
and
try
to
redeem
yourself,
you
STOOD…BEFORE
GOD!
AND
YOU
TRIED
TO
THROW…YOUR
OWN
SOUL
AWAY!
You
don’t
ever
have
to
answer
to
me
for
that.
I’ll
take
the
blame
for
a
lot
of
the
things
you
did
trying to be like Melvin, but you best know that mortals do not
make decisions over who lives or not. So whether you sold your
soul or threw it away, YOU got bigger problems than worrying
‘bout
me…”
Anthony
tried
to
interrupt
and
say,
“But
Grandma,
remember
you
said
if
he…”
She
looked
back
with
the
shut
up
look
and
said,
“Shhhhh,
Tony!”
I
didn’t
know
if
or
how
else
to
respond
because
she
was
right.
So much more could have been said, but she really covered it all
with just that little bit. I stood up, hung my head, and pulled the
door to walk out. On my way to the truck, I passed Auntie Fay
coming up the walk. I barely noticed she was there. She stopped
me
and
wiped
my
tears;
I
didn’t
even
know
I
was
crying.
I
had
gotten all the way to the gate
and
hadn’t
felt
myself
take
one
step
or walk down the porch steps. My arms felt limp at my sides as
Auntie
Fay
hugged
me
and
whispered,
“Millie,
I
hope
this
is
what
you
were
talking
about.”
She
hugged
me
and
prayed
up
to
the
starry sky. She whispered to me
in
my
ear,
“She
loves
you,
baby.
She’s
gonna
do
everything
she
can
to
save
the
one
child
she
has
left.
She
would
give
you
her
soul
if
she
could;
that’s
what
mothers
do.
That’s
what
women
are
for—to sustain life, to keep balance,
and keep the world going. You need to recognize that in how you
deal
with
women.
You
can’t
defile
what
God
created.
Do
whatever
you
have
to
do
to
fix
whatever
you
broke.
Don’t
worry
about
what
Melvin did. James and Manuel are with God, baby, so let Him take
care of His business and you take care of yours. Earn your soul and
166
God’s
graces
back.
Give
your
mother
the
opportunity
to
feel
like
she
hasn’t
failed
the
reason
God
put
her
on
this
earth.
You
have
time;
she’ll
be
waiting
for
you.
She’s
always
been
waiting
for
you.”
I didn’t
know
what
I
was
going
to
ask,
but
I
said,
“Auntie
Faye…?”
“Shhh.
Don’t
question
it.
Have
faith,
Patrick.
You
were
dead
and
God sent you back for a reason. Dead, Patrick. I saw it with my own
eyes. No vital signs, no breathing, no nothing for more than fifteen
minutes.
That’s
no
medicine,
baby,
THAT
IS
GOD!
HE brought you
back
for
a
reason,
okay?
We
love
you.
Now
go.”
She kissed me like she did at the hospital. Then she turned to
Anthony
and
said,
“Somebody
better
get
down
here
and
give
me
some
sugar
before
I
have
to
go
cut
me
a
switch.”
He
ran
to
her
and
gave her a big hug and kiss. He must have known she was on her
way.
She
asked
him,
“Can
you
help
your
Daddy
make
it
home
safe?
He looks like he got delivered over here in a couple of different
boxes.”
She
smiled.
When I got to the truck, I looked back to see my mother in tears
and she looked nervous. She always bites her bottom lip when
she’s
nervous.
She
and
Auntie
Fay
stood
there
on
the
stoop
until
we got in the truck. I tried to keep my eyes on the road and
maintain focus on them through my rear view mirror—as they
stood in the doorway—until we were gone around the block.
The
ride
home
was
silent
until
Anthony
asked,
“So
what
Aunt
Florence
said
is
true?”
“What
did
she
say?”
“You
killed
some
people.”
I could have killed Florence right then, seriously. How dare she
tell
him
that,
but
I
had
to
be
honest.
I
admitted,
“Yes,
I’ve
done
a
lot
of
things
I’m
not
proud
of.
What
else
did
she
say?”
“That
you
and
Mom
still
mess
around.
That
you’re
gonna
come
live with us one day, and that
you
shot
Uncle
Dodo.”
167
“Alright,
let
me
set
the
record
straight.
The
people
I
killed
were
trying to kill me, or had killed somebody close to me. Dodo was
mad because Nessa and I used to fight. When he came home from
prison, he told everybody he was going to torture me for the way I
used to treat Vanessa. Vanessa and I used to—and as you can see—
still do crazy things to each other and ourselves. Um, oh yeah. I
love your mom, Anthony, but we are not going to be together like
me and Mama Sheila are. I only have one wife, and that hopefully
won’t
ever
change.
I
have
to
work
harder
to
make
sure
that
is
clear
to your mother. Sometimes I have given her mixed messages about
what I want from her. Now, I know for sure that although she will
be disappointed, I have to make that clear. And Florence only
knows one time that she can be sure of, when she actually can
verify me and Vanessa doing anything. Of course, everybody must
assume
that
we
did
it
some
time
after
that,
because
that’s
how
we
got you. As for right now or recently, Florence can shut up because
she
ain’t
seen
us
doing
nothing.”
“But,
do
you?”
I briefly contemplated whether to disclose that with him. The
reason
I
finally
did
was
because
I
couldn’t
risk
his
trust
and
confidence if he knew otherwise.
I
said,
“Yes,
well,
not
frequently.”
“Yesterday,
for
her
birthday?”
“Who
told
you
that?”
“Nobody
had
to
tell
me.
That’s
what
she
wishes
for
every
year.”
That
took
my
breath
away.
I
couldn’t
believe
I
was
sitting
there
asking him
that,
but
I
did.
“She
told
you
that?
She
wants
sex
from
me
for
her
birthday?”
“No,
she
wants
you.
Not
just
you-know-what.
You
gon’
tell
Mama
Sheila
you
did
it?”
“If
she
asks;
I
have
to.
Remember,
if
you’re
too
ashamed
to
tell
something, you don’t
need
to
be
doing
it.
If
Sheila
wants
to
know,
I
have
to
tell
her.
If
she
doesn’t
ask,
that
won’t
excuse
me
from
being
wrong. Just sometimes, and there are very few times when, you
don’t
tell
things
to
get
them
off
your
chest
if
they
will
be
more
168
harmful to the person hearing the confession. Sheila has never
done anything to me or against me to deserve hearing something
like
that
voluntarily.”
He
absorbed
what
I
had
to
say
and
oddly
enough,
didn’t
have
any more questions. He fell asleep in the truck before we got home.
I
carried
him
from
the
garage
to
his
bedroom.
He
wasn’t
a
baby
any
more, but he was still my baby, the baby I wished I had carried and
held when he was a hand baby. Time really does fly. He had gotten
big in twelve years.
Sheila waited for me and was up reading when I crawled in bed.
She
received
me
and
said,
“We
don’t
have
to
talk
about
it.
If
it
comes up later and you feel comfortable discussing it, we will. Now
come
here…”
That’s
a
woman.
169
Chapter 16
Whoever said ignorance was bliss, lied. I had been ignorant of
so many things for so long, and I was constantly in the dumps
about it. I laid down in the bed; Sheila helped me out of my clothes
and brought me a cool rag for my face. I laid there with the rag on
my face and
eyes
closed
for
I
don’t
know
how
long,
just
thinking
about everything. I felt like I was in the matrix. Sheila came back
into the bedroom with some food and a handful of vitamins. She
said,
“Here.
You
haven’t
eaten.
You
can’t
run
your
body
down
like
this. You might feel normal or okay, but people truly interested in
you can tell when you are worn or when your body has been
abused. It even shows up in your facial expressions and the
slightest
of
mannerisms.”
I took the towel from my eyes and thought about what she said.
I could tell how worn Mama looked. Then it hit me—the people
from the Yankees could tell how worn I looked way back then. I
was used to the subtle changes in my appearance over time, but to
them
who
hadn’t
seen
me,
I
looked
like
I
was abused and worn
down. Over time, my behavior and conduct had eroded Vanessa,
too,
possibly
to
the
point
where
she
felt
like
she
couldn’t
be
cooperative with anybody else. Wow, Sheila. And I thought all that
Bev had to say was something profound. But, hold up. What Bev
said was profound; she just missed a piece of it herself. Sheila
didn’t
have
to
do
all
the
mechanical
things
like
iron
my
clothes
or
whatever.
Bang! Then it hit me. I felt like I could hear Auntie Millie
speaking to me from heaven. She used to always tell me to watch
how I interacted with Vanessa or other women or even
relationships
in
general
because,
‘How
you
get
‘em
is
how
you
gon’
lose
‘em.’
I
gained
Vanessa’s
love
and
affection
in
youth
and
ignorance, and that was exactly the cause of why we were still
dysfunctional.
I
met
Sheila
in
a
caregiver’s
capacity,
and
she
has
loved me from day one. If I lose her or she gets taken from me,
that’s
the
only
way
I’ll
let
it
happen.
I’ll
be
right
there
by
her
side
faithfully like she was for me.
Bev? All that sexy and witty presentation is well and good, but
bottom
line
is,
it’s
deceptive,
and
if
she’ll
come
to
me
170
underhandedly, then what would happen when the next better
man came along? That kind of made me think about how some
women say things
like,
‘You
know
I
don’t
usually
do
this’
or
‘I’m
not
that
kind
of
girl…’
when
they
are
butt
naked,
know
you’re
married
or involved, and/or even got their lips and tongue wrapped around
your dick like a popsicle. Yeah, sure, just keep sucking and stop all
that
damned
disclaiming
of
what
you
don’t
do
or
who
you
are
not,
while
you’re
doing
it.
Oh shit, Shazzam! There it was, all in a nutshell. Prison, no
prison, soul or not, I had killed some people, and until I die, I will
always be a killer. That didn’t
mean
I
needed
to
continue
doing
it,
but
I
didn’t
need
to
keep
running
and
trying
to
hide
from
things
I
had done in the past that were never going to change. As for
shame,
I
wasn’t
exactly
sure.
Oohh, then like zoom, bang, boom, the visions started hitting
my brain. Suddenly I felt like the Zhin, Ying and Yang, Maat,
philosophy master. Bev was bright about some stuff, but she had it
just a little bit distorted. One thing she was going to do was help
me
become
a
better
man;
she
just
didn’t
know
what
the
payoff
was
going to be for me and Sheila and the marriage and relationship I
already had and that I was already happy with. As far as Vanessa,
there was some serious work to do. I remembered what Bev said
about not being able to forget about Jared until she started to get
herself straight and then set her sights on me. Vanessa and so
many other people had permanent open wounds that I had
inflicted upon them. I had to do whatever I could to help her heal
and
be
delicate
in
methods
so
she
didn’t
feel
finally
rejected
or
played off. Vanessa is a good person and will make somebody a
very nice wife. She will need to, like I had to, stop trying to force a
round peg into a square hole in our relationship, but gather all of
the experiences she has taken from such a massive education and
use them somewhere else. There is a man out there who has
complementary offsetting life experiences who will mate up so
well with her, just like there was somebody else out in the world
for me. I had to let everything I knew in life go to find Sheila. I
hoped
that
Vanessa’s
transition
wouldn’t
be
so
painful,
but
even
if
it had to be, I also prayed that it would be equally rewarding.
171
Mama and Auntie Faye, you too, Auntie Millie, were all correct.
Salvation was available for me. I needed to find it and begin to
redeem
myself
and
restore
the
joy
of
God’s
graces
to
all
of
the
people
I
had
stolen
it
from.
I
didn’t
know
who
was
alive
and
well,
or who was on the verge of death or what. I suddenly felt nervous
and anxious like I was super late for something or like there was
something
going
to
happen
if
I
didn’t
hurry
to
prevent
them.
I
didn’t
know
where
to
start,
but
I
knew
I
would
have
to
be
on
top
of
my game for the rest of my life. I knew for sure that my hardest nut
to crack would be Vanessa. She would rebut anything I said or did
to
try
to
hold
on.
If
I
told
her
I
wasn’t
good
for
her,
she
would
say
something like I was the only person for her, good or bad. And I
better not try to pawn her off on anybody else because she would
interpret that as me trying to pimp her or something. At that point,
I
couldn’t
be
so
proud
or
arrogant,
in
any
way,
to
say
‘I
got
it.’
But,
I
was
proud
enough
of
myself
to
say,
‘I’m
gonna
get
it,
and I
won’t
stop
until
I
do
totally
have
the
senses
to
get
my
life
back.’
I
slept
pretty
well
and
didn’t
even
remember
my
dream.
In
the
morning, Sheila woke me up with some loving that kicked off a
beautiful day. As I lay in the bed glowing with my legs crossed at
the ankles and my hands locked behind my head like I had really
done
something
and
feeling
like
a
king,
the
king’s
responsibilities
began to hit me, too. Sheila walked in. Under her robe, she was
naked as a newborn, but I could see that she had bathed as her
Friday morning ritual. Calgon, or one of those, takes Sheila away on
Friday
mornings.
That’s
her
private
time.
When
I
turned
my
head
to look at her, I could see that she had a giant bouquet of flowers.
The smell covered the room in a matter of seconds. I sat up as she
sat
on
the
bed
next
to
me
and
said,
“Hey,
Loverboy.
Somebody
sent
you
flowers.”
That caught me off guard. For a second, I had let my mind
wander back into chaos of thinking about that Michael mess. Then,
my second guess was Vanessa trying to be funny. Third, but such a
long shot, would be Bev. That is something she might try to get off
on the low-low,
but
she
hadn’t
seen
that
I
was
all
beat
up.
Mama
or
Auntie
Fay?
Nah.
They
don’t
waste
time
with
the
florist;
they
go
straight to the Lord and cut all the shucking and jiving out. Then, I
smirked. Sheila. Okay. I thought to myself, I’ll
play
your
little
game.
172
I thought it was something she did as a surprise; she handed the
card
to
me
and
asked,
“Who
are
they
from?”
like
she
didn’t
know.
I
said,
“Damn
that
must
be
$200
worth
of
flowers.
If
I
glue
that
down
onto
Anthony’s
go-cart,
they’ll
call
it
a
florist.
Let’s
see.
‘Get
well
soon.
Every
day
is
a
new
opportunity
to
enjoy
life.’
Signed,
Ms.
Shirley
Caldwell.’
”
Sheila
leaned
over
to
take
a
big
sniff
and
said,
“Ummm,
they
smell
so
good.
Who’s
Shirley
Caldwell,
baby?”
I
thought
she
would
be
jealous,
but
she
wasn’t
at
all.
I
explained
to
her
why
Mr.
Washington’s
wife
uses
her
maiden
name
at
work.
She
said,
“That’s my
kind
of
woman.
How
sweet.
See,
you
can’t
beat
that.
Growing
old
with
your
love?
People
always
say
you
shouldn’t
get
your
honey
where
you
get
your
money.
That’s
trash.
When
you
and
that
person
have
the
same
common
goal,
that’s
the
only
person you need watching
your
back.
You’ll
have
to
invite
them
to
dinner
soon.”
That went a lot smoother than I ever expected. My heart was
light and my head was clear, so I also took the opportunity to be
voluntarily forthcoming about the events of the past two days, and
I only withheld the sex part between me and Vanessa. I told Sheila
about
what
happened
at
Mama’s;
I
told
her
about
why
Florence
and
I
don’t
get
along;
I
told
her
about
me
shooting
Dodo;
I
told
her
about the other shootings, and I tried to completely purge myself
of all the skeletons that haunted me for so long. She was stunned,
but
she
listened.
When
she
eventually
spoke,
all
she
said
was,
“If
you’ve
been
running
from
all
that
all
this
time,
you
should
be
spiritually
and
emotionally
exhausted.”
I was nervous about what else might go through her mind. She
stood and started pacing. Then she stopped and began to think
vocally.
She
said,
“Ooooh.
Okay,
Vanessa.
Come
on.
Um
hmm,
I
got
something
for
that,
too.”
I
asked,
“What
are
you
thinking?”
She ignored me. She began
pacing again and put her hand over her mouth like she had
discovered
something
funny.
She
said,
“Oh,
shit!
I
almost
got
caught slipping for real. A diversion. Now, the key is to find out if
it’s
a
coincidence
or
collusion.”
173
She was thinking, smirking her face, and wagging her finger in
the air, kind of like Auntie Millie would do if she busted us doing
something
we
weren’t
supposed
to
be
doing,
but
we
thought
we
could
get
away
with
because
Mama
wouldn’t
be
home
yet.
Kind
of
like the time I decided to try to make donuts at home, and she
came over after I had cleared up all the mess and we had eaten the
evidence.
We
weren’t
smart
enough
to
know
that
grown-ups or
just people in general could smell the sugar and baking in the air.
Sheila
asked
me,
“All
men
love
a
good
cat
fight,
right?
Your
mother said something to me when you were in the hospital. It just
now
hit
me
what
she
meant.”
She
stopped
to
think;
then
her
face
lit
up
and
she
looked
frightened
as
she
said,
“Oh,
shit!
He’s right!
Michael.
Dammit,
how
do
I
get
in
touch
with
you?”
I
sat
up
fully.
She
had
caught
all
of
my
attention.
I
asked,
“Okay,
what’s
the
deal
on
this
Michael
dude?”
“I
can’t
tell
you…I
mean,
I
don’t
know
enough
about
him
to
say
right now. Trust me; you have to trust me. I apologize for not
paying closer attention. Give me a chance to do my homework
before
I
say
anything,
okay?
Trust
me,
sweetheart.
I
won’t
let
you
down.”
She started crying uncontrollably, and I had to just be patient
and trust her like she asked. It was hard to do because right when I
thought the issue had been put to rest, there it was again. I tried to
change
the
subject
orally
and
in
my
mind
by
saying,
“My
mother
never
visited
me
in
the
hospital.”
Sheila looked at me
funny
and
asked,
“Who
do
you
think
gave
you
the
archangel
Michael
necklace?”
“I
thought
you
did.”
“No,
Baby.
I
can’t
take
credit
for
that.
I
just
put
it
around
your
neck. Your mother brought that for you. Auntie Fay insisted that
she
didn’t
sit there and watch you die and torture herself. She
wasn’t
going
to
leave.
She
didn’t
eat.
She
knelt
by
your
bedside
day
and night and prayed. They had to sedate her and drag her out of
there.
If
you
think
your
Mama
left
you,
you’ve
been
so
terribly
wrong all this time. She and Vanessa got into a big argument the
174
second
day
you
were
there.
Your
mother
told
her
she
wasn’t
woman enough to accept or take on the responsibility of being
married to a man as special as you and she needed to get her own
soul in order first.
She
told
Vanessa
that
she
wasn’t
trying
to
offend
her, but she needed to warn her that she was getting in over her
head.”
“Nessa
never
told
me
about
that.”
“Who
would
want
something
like
that
ever
repeated?
Oooh,
alright.
I’ll
admit
that I kind of need to back up off Vanessa at times.
She
must
have
really
dug
her
feet
in
after
that
because
she
didn’t
argue.
She
leaned
over
and
kissed
you,
covered
Anthony’s
little
head,
and
walked
out.
I
didn’t
think
I
heard
what
she
said,
but
now
I do. She
told
your
mother,
‘Even
if
he
don’t
make
it,
I’ll
show
you.’
”
“What
else
did
Mama
say?”
“I
don’t
know
if
I
should
tell
you.”
“It
was
that
bad?”
“Well,
I’m
not
sure
if
it
would
be
wise
not
to
tell
you,
either.”
“It
can’t
be any
worse
than
what
she
said
to
me
last
night.”
Sheila
filled
her
cheeks
with
air
and
exhaled.
She
didn’t
respond.
I
asked
again,
“Damn,
is
it
that
bad?”
“Okay,
listen.
You
can’t
say
anything
until
I’m
finished,
and
this
was
almost
nine
years
ago
when
I
heard
it,
so
it’s
not
a
direct
quote.”
I
thought
that
was
a
little
bullshit
because
Sheila’s
memory
is
excellent. She wins trivial pursuit contests
every
time,
and
she’s
got names of blood vessels and body parts memorized like they are
her relatives. But, I listened.
She
said,
“Your
mother
came
and
told
me
the
story
of
Lucifer.”
In my mind, I was like, Great.
My
mother
thinks
I’m
the devil.
175
Sheila
continued,
“Before
you
go
off
thinking
that
she
thinks
you’re
the
devil,
listen.
She
said
Lucifer
sat
at
the
side
of
God.
He
had horns on his feet that made music when he walked. God
showed him things nobody else ever saw, and he thought he could
be God. He was the protector of the mountain of God and guardian
of
sacred
places.
Uhh….perfect.
Yeah,
yeah,
he
was
perfect,
um
what
else?
Yeah,
Ezekiel
28:17
‘His
heart
was
lifted
up
because
of
beauty though corrupted thy wisdom by reason of brightness.’
She
talked about how beautiful you were as a child and how it seemed
like
you
would
equalize
all
the
hell
that
Melvin
put
her
through…”
She stopped in her tracks. Something went through her mind
that had to be a landmark discovery. I knew
it
when
she
said,
“Oh,
my God. She knew. She always knew. They knew, too. Everybody. I
can’t
believe
it.
He
let
his
brother…”
I
interrupted,
“Sheila,
what
are
you
talking
about?”
“Don’t
talk,
Baby.
Don’t
talk.
Just
let
me
finish.
She,
your
mother,
took all the blame for putting that on your back and for not
protecting you from the vanity of your own immaturity. She said
she bragged about so what if she was inadequate in whatever
ways,
look
how
beautiful
of
a
child
God
gave
her,
and
that’s
how
she felt accomplished. But she said she set you up for failure in
certain ways. She read Isaiah 14:9-16. Get the Bible. See, Baby, they
were mocking him after he had fallen from grace. She said after she
put you so high, almost like Lucifer, people couldn’t
wait
to
tear
you down and have you at their levels of misery. And you were like
Daniel,
crying
out
and
thinking
God
didn’t
hear
your
prayers.
Go.
Turn the page to Daniel 10:9-14. She said you were like Daniel.
Yeah, here it is. See? You thought your prayers
weren’t
heard.
That’s
why
she
gave
you
the
archangel
Michael
necklace.
You’re
a
leader of people. God heard you and always has, and no matter
what
you’ve
done,
redemption
is
available
for
you.
But,
she
couldn’t
help
you
once
you
tried
to
throw
your
soul away. No
matter what she could do, it would never explain you throwing
your soul away. Your mother thinks there are a lot of people who
recognize
your
potential,
but
if
it
seems
that
they
can’t
be
part
of
the
celebration
of
your
blessings,
they’re
gonna try to keep you
down
until
you
promise
to
provide
for
them
as
well.”
176
That
would
explain
Mama’s
contempt
for
Vanessa.
Sheila
continued,
“She
also
said
that
there
are
people
who’ll
recognize you and try to position themselves in your life to seem
like they were incidentally walking along the path to you realizing
your greatness or even try to make minimal contributions to say
you
owe
them
something
later.”
Mama would probably hate Bev on sight.
“She
said
not
even
she
was
entitled
to
bathe in the lather of
your greatness because God gave it to you, and her lot in life was to
cultivate it in you without having to demand something in return,
but before anything happens, you have to get your identity
together spiritually. She thinks, or thought, that when you do that,
things will change and improve gloriously for everybody around
you.”
I sat there listening for more, but Sheila was finished. She said,
“I’m
done.
Now
you
can
speak.”
I
just
said,
“There’s
nothing
to
say.”
“You
don’t
have
any
questions?”
“After
thirty-three
years
of
confusion?
No,
strangely
not.”
“So
what
are
you
going
to
do?”
“Right
now?”
“Yeah,
right
now.
Later,
whatever…”
“Make
love
to
my
wife.”
I reached to hug her. She playfully
resisted
and
said,
“Get
away,
you
horny
thing!”
I
looked
her
in
her
eyes
and
said,
“Let
me
show
you
what
it
feels
like to make love to a man who just got the chance to get his soul
back.”
She kissed me and leaned her head back to let me snuggle into
her
neck
as
she
said,
“You’re
lucky
Mama
is
downstairs.”
177
After about two hours of the most intense, non-stop sexual
satiety, Sheila rolled over onto her stomach, listless and panting. I
thought she wanted to change positions, and I got ready
to…
She
said,
“Eric,
baby,
I’m
so
sore.
Let
me
rest.”
Shoot, I was just getting ready to kick my demonstration into
overdrive. She looked like she had been de-boned and filleted. We
lay there together. She moved her head slightly to face me with
glazed
eyes
and
said,
“Eric,
you
can’t
do
me
like
that
and
expect
me
to
go
to
work
every
day.”
I
asked,
“Do
you
like
what?”
She
rolled
her
eyes
and
said,
“Do
me,
like..??
Umm,
I’m
hesitant
to
say
it,
but
it’s
like
you’re
possessed.”
I
thought
I
had
done
a
little
sunsha
(something).
I
said,
“I
feel
like
I’m
twenty
again.”
“Well,
if
you
were
doing
that
to
Vanessa
at
twenty,
I
know
why
she’s
crazy.”
That brought it back to mind. Vanessa. I had to put an end to her
plans right away, so I got up and headed for the shower. I called
back
to
Sheila,
“You
going
to
work
or
not?”
She
didn’t
answer.
I
turned
the
water
on
in
the
shower,
and
walked back over to the bed to ask her again if she was going to
work. She was sound asleep, and the look on her face said it all.
I went back to the shower. The soap smelled better, richer. I
could hear the water droplets splash against my face. I leaned
under the shower head to feel the refreshing water on my head;
the heat and pressure drummed a steady roll on my head. I stood
there under the cascade for almost twenty minutes. I thought
about how to do what I needed to do for me and hurt as few people
as possible. I had heard enough times, from different people, in a
variety of ways, to be sure that Vanessa was not going to freely
accept being exiled from my inner circle just as I made this break-
through.
I
really
didn’t
know
how
useful
to
the
entire
outlook
of
things
Bev’s
perspective
could
be,
but
I
was
determined
to
find
out.
The Michael
thing
was
and
wasn’t
a
big
deal.
I
resolved
in
my
mind
178
to trust Sheila, and whatever came of it was fine. That way, I could
functionally eliminate it, not ignore it.
I scrubbed my body thoroughly. I wanted a new, fresh start in
as many ways as I
could
get.
I
didn’t
have
much
to
shave,
but
I
did
a
little sunsha. I planned to go with Anthony and get a haircut, too. I
got out of the shower, dried my body, and put lotion and powder
on. Sheila had awakened and came through the door.
I
said,
“Hey,
I’m
in
here.”
She
walked
right
past
me
and
said,
“Excuse
me,
sweetheart.
I
wouldn’t
disturb
you,
but
I
gotta
pee.”
She
was
creeping
and
limping bent over at the waist.
I
asked,
“What’s
wrong
with
you?”
She pushed me aside and rolled and cut her eyes at me. She said,
“You
know
what’s
wrong
with
me.”
“What?
It’s
not
that
time
of
the
month.”
“Did
I
say
it
was
that
time
of
the
month?
Move
and
let
me
use
the
bathroom.”
I
stood
outside
as
she
moaned
and
grunted,
“Oh,
I’ll
kill
you if
you
ever…”
The
toilet
flushed
and
the
water
in
the
sink
rushed,
so
I
couldn’t
hear
the
rest
of
what
she
said.
She
limped
back
out
and
said,
“My
cervix
is
not
a
trampoline.”
I knew what she meant. Maybe I had gotten a little carried
away. I said,
“Okay,
I
guess
I’ll
take
it
down
a
few
notches.”
She smiled through her soreness, stared at my naked lotioned
and
powdered
body
and
said,
“Hmm,
you
better
not.
Just
give
a
sister
a
little
fair
warning
so
I
can
prepare.”
I laughed. She kissed me, laughed, and winced almost all at the
same
time
as
she
said,
“Tell
Mama
I’ll
be
down
in
a
few
minutes.”
“So
I
guess
that’s
a
no
on
you
going
to
work?”
179
“Going
to
work
today?
No,,
I
don’t
think
that
would
be
too
wise.
I
wouldn’t
be
able
to
focus.
What
do
you
have
planned
for
today?”
“I
gotta
go
interview
some
people
for
the
security
project.”
“You
digress
that
fast?”
“No,
I
don’t
digress
that
fast.
There’s
a
better
way
to
solve
the
security issue at the compound, help people get good jobs, and
minimize
heads
getting
busted.”
“So
you
do
agree
that
some
heads
might
get
busted?”
“Well,
maybe.”
She
mocked
me,
“Well,
maybe.
See,
that’s
not
what
you
need
to
do,
then.”
“No,
there
are
other
ways
to
get
the
same
effect,
by
a
different
means.”
“How?
According
to
you,
Mr.
Washington
doesn’t
seem
like
he’s
too
anxious
to
take
another
loss
like
that.”
“Oh,
he’s
not,
but
I
planted
a
seed
in
his
mind,
so
I’m
responsible
to
make
sure
it
doesn’t
grow
wild.”
“How
are
you
going
to
do
that?”
“Um…I
guess
I’ll
start
by
praying.
Second,
I’ll
approach
it
with
my
eyes
open
and
have
faith.
Then,
I’ll
listen
to
what
the
spirit
tells
me.”
“And
if
you
get
impatient
or
feel
like
it’s
not
working?”
“Wait.”
“Wait
for
what?”
“No.
I’ll
wait.”
That
must
have
sounded
good
to
her
because
she
didn’t
question me or have any other response. We walked out to the bed,
and she sat back on it and smiled real big as she watched me dress.
180
I was fired up and feeling real good about myself. I had a confident
feeling about me that was totally different from my old arrogance.
My
body
felt
young
and
fresh,
and
I
didn’t
have
a
clue.
If
the
spirits
were talking to me right then, it was all in sign language because
although I felt like a five-year old kid physically, with all the energy
in the world, mentally I felt stupid as a box of rocks. From the way
everybody was talking, I was expecting to walk outside on a clear
summer day, get struck by a big blast of lightning, and shake it off
like I was breaking down the cabbage patch. I had done a little
something
in
the
bed
to
Sheila
but
I
wasn’t
feeling
like
a
mutant
or
anything like I thought I would. Somebody had jipped me of my
super powers that were supposed to come along with all the
awakening,
or
at
least
that’s
how
it
always
went
on
TV…
I tested myself to see if I had any new powers. I tried to call
Maritsa telepathically to see if she could make waffles for me.
When I got downstairs, she and the kids had already eaten, and the
dishes were done. Brian was pushing his little walker toy and ran
into my toe. It hurt. I clinched my teeth, smiled, and picked him up.
I pulled his shirt up to blow air bubbles on his stomach. He leaned
his head back and laughed. I did it again; he laughed heartily. I put
him on my shoulders and spun him around. Maritsa and Makayla
walked
up
behind
me,
and
Maritsa
tried
to
warn
me,
“Hey,
Mijo,
he
just….ate.”
Too
late.
He
spit
up
in my hair, but it was cool. I laughed
and wiped it off. Maritsa leaned me over in the sink, washed it out,
and helped me get cleaned up.
Makayla
was
leaping
and
jumping
around
demanding,
“Daddy,
watch.
Mira,
Papa.
Puedo
bailar.
Estoy
una…um,
una…uh…”
Maritsa
helped her say ballerina in Spanish. I was glad Maritsa knew
because I would have had to smile and try to play it off like I did
and
then
go
back
to
ask
Sheila
later.
Maritsa
must’ve
made
those
little ballerina costumes for Sheila back in the day because they
were almost too small for Makayla; she looked like she was welded
into them, and we would have to beat her to get her to take them
off.
It
was
funny
because
all
the
dresses
Maritsa
made
for
‘my
only
granddaughter’
have
that
Cinco
de
Mayo
look. We should just have
bought stock in the company that makes the panties with the little
ruffle
bottoms
because
Maritsa
doesn’t
believe
in
dresses
without
all
the
little
ruffle
stuff.
It
wouldn’t
surprise
me
at
all
to
see
her
wear something like that herself.
She
complimented
me,
“Hey,
181
Mijo, you look good. I mean, like better than normal; definitely
better than the other day. What did you do—wrap your head in
some
mummy
rags?”
I
bent
over
to
kiss
her
on
the
neck
and
cheek.
She pushed me away softly and said,
“Hey,
slick.
I
don’t
mess
around
with
married
men.
Find
me
somebody
single,
and
that’s
a
different
story!”
I
teased,
“You
need
to
enjoy
your
retirement.”
“I
don’t
know
what
you’re
talking
about.
I
do
enjoy
myself,
but
I
raised four kids and buried a husband. I got a party license in three
states.”
Anthony
walked
in
and
asked,
“Who’s
going
to
a
party?
Hey,
Dad.
Hey,
Grandma.”
He
kissed
Maritsa,
bonked
Brian
lightly
on
the
top of the head with his fist, and pushed Makayla as he said to her,
“Move,
squirt.”
Makayla
defended,
“I’m
not
a
squirt,”
as
she
pushed
him
back.
Maritsa
answered
Anthony,
“You
remember
what
we
talked
about
this
morning?
You’ll
have
a
party
next
month,
if
you
get
your
act
together.”
He accepted being lightly admonished and tried to change the
subject
so
the
motion
didn’t
get
seconded.
He
said,
“Yeah,
next
month
is
okay,
but
next
year,
I’ll
be
an
official
teenager.
Look,
Dad,
I’m
already
getting
a
mustache.”
I looked closely. There were only about three wild hairs on his
whole face—one was a fallen eyelash; I think the one close to his
lip was a long nose hair, and the last one just might have been dirt.
I
hated
to
break
the
news
to
him
when
I
said,
“I…I…don’t
see
it,
son.”
He got close and said,
“Uh
hunh,
Dad.
Look
close.”
I
took
a
closer
look; still nothing.
Maritsa
licked
her
thumb,
tabbed
across
his
lip,
and
said,
“No,
sweetie,
that’s
dirt.”
We
laughed.
He
sulked
and
said,
“That’s
not
funny,
Grandma.”
182
She
said,
“I’m
honest
because I love you. Plus, Anthony, shaving is
like
driving.
After
you
have
to
start
doing
it
all
the
time,
you
won’t
like
it
so
much.”
He
looked
skeptical
and
said,
“Nunt
uhn,
‘cause
then
I’ll
look
just
like
Dad.”
That
made
me
feel
really
good
inside.
He
asked,
“Hey…”
He
was
motioning
something
behind
my
back.
Out
of
the
corner of my eye, I caught him pointing. When I turned around to
see him, they both got on either side of me and played monkey in
the
middle.
He
tried
to
play
it
off
and
continue,
“Yeah,
uh, Daddy,
hey, they got this place that Grandma and me saw in the mall that
does
tattoos
for
kids.”
I saw the whole play coming from way down the road, but I
decided to let him make his sales pitch before I killed it. I listened
and
then
I
said,
“Anthony,
son,
you
are
way
too
young
for
a
tattoo.”
“But,
come
on,
Dad.
I
have
a
big
game
tomorrow,
and
it’s
not
permanent.
If
I
get
it
today,
it
will
be
dry
by
tomorrow
and
you’ll
be
able
to
see
the
colors
really
well
in
the
sunlight.”
Maritsa
added,
“It’s
made
from
natural
vegetable
dies.
It’s
only
gonna
last
for
three
weeks.”
“Yeah,
Dad,
just
three
weeks.
Come
on,
Dad.
I’ll
pitch
a
no-hitter
like
you
did.
Mom’s
gonna
bring
me
some
candy.”
He
squinted
and
mumbled under his breath to keep Maritsa from hearing him say,
“Plus,
Brandy’s
coming.”
My
son
was
getting
big.
I
imagined
that
Vanessa would get nostalgic and set up the figurative campfire and
tell
him,
‘Back
in
the
day,
your
father
and
I’
stories.
He must have heard that story. I was in the 11th grade. Vanessa
had long since been my full-time girlfriend. She wore my
letterman’s
jacket
and
sweater
more
than
I
did.
As
a
matter
of
fact,
she still has them both. She clipped all my newspaper articles and
made scrapbooks. She was a one-person fan club. At the regional
playoffs, we played Austin-Sam Houston. I owned them. I had a
nice bag of four solid pitches. I had a slider, a curve inside and low,
a 92 miles per hour fast ball, and the Bingo special--my adaptation
of a knuckler that I could not get to sit still. It started out still, like a
knuckler, but it rotated right about twenty feet from the plate and
dropped. I threw it with just enough heat to make it elusive, but I
183
didn’t
have
to
throw
my
arm
out
to
keep
using
it. The Bingo special
was
nasty.
It
was
so
nasty,
that’s
when
the
Yankees
wanted
me
straight out of high school. In the first two games of the five-game
series, I flawlessly pitched a total of fourteen innings. My pitch
count
stayed
low,
and
they
didn’t
get
one hit off me. Ramón and
Paul got generous and sloppy, but we won each game. Sam
Houston brought their best pitcher in for game three to try to
avoid
the
sweep.
I
wasn’t
even
supposed
to
pitch
until
game
five.
Paul threw a couple of wild pitches and loaded the bases in the
first inning. Coach snatched him, walked over to me, and said,
“Warm
up
that
arm,
Grimes.”
I
was
looking
like,
‘Hey,
what’s
up
with
that?’
The worst pitcher we had in the rotation, Jeff, walked out to the
mound and started giving up wood from his first pitch. Luckily, the
three
guys
he
let
hit
him
flied
out
and
they
didn’t
get
any
runs.
I
knew
what
was
coming.
We
didn’t
get
any
runs
in
the
first
inning,
either. No problem; I knew what I had to do on defense. I was
taking them three and out, three and out, three and out. Their
pitcher and I were both on top of our games. I used to eat cherry
Jolly Rancher candies at home and lemon at away games. Our
school
colors
were
red
and
gold.
Because
Nessa
was
my
“Candy
Girl,”
she
was
in
charge of keeping the candy coming. The only hit
in the game was my bunt in the seventh inning, but I got stranded
on second. I only got there because I stole it. Top of the 9th inning,
Nessa gave me a piece of candy and blew me a kiss. I stood on the
mound to watch the signal from my catcher. He was signaling
down
and
away.
I
knew
I
was
a
little
tired,
and
I
didn’t
have
confidence in my fast ball. I knew it might get beaned down third
base line, and he would be in scoring position. No down and away;
I
didn’t feel comfortable with that. I knew I had to punk that dude. I
rattled the candy in my mouth and thought about him being able to
pull my down and away curve. Nah, that consideration was gone. I
rattled the candy around my teeth again and gave my nod. The
batter was smothering the plate; I slung a nuclear missile right for
his head. Ninety-four miles per hour, and it was my fastest pitch
ever in high school. He closed his eyes and ducked just in time to
keep from getting his head knocked off. Mike, the catcher, was
looking for the ball to be low and away. It hit the fence in the
backstop and the crowed jumped, -‘Oooh.’
Coach
came
to
the
184
mound
and
yelled
at
me,
even
though
he
knew
it
wasn’t
a
wild
pitch. He knew I had better control than that.
I
didn’t pay attention to what he said. Homeboy took it
personal,
and
I
wanted
him
to.
‘Stop
smothering
the
bag,
Pussy,
or
get
hit!’
I
threw
him
my
curve
inside…got
him!
One
ball,
one
strike.
I threw him the curve again. He foul tipped it. One ball, two strikes.
I got the strike, but I was pissed off that his pussy ass even got
wood on me. I threw him a fast ball in the zone and he foul tipped
me again. One ball, two strikes again. I was excited. My shoulder
started
to
sting
and
spasm.
I
didn’t
know
if
I
had
pulled a muscle or
if
it
was
just
the
rush,
but
I
knew
that
I
couldn’t
tell
Coach
because
he
would’ve
pulled
me.
I
wanted
to
take
that
chump
with
my
Bingo
special,
but
I
didn’t
know
if
I
could
keep
it
still
long
enough
to
make it effective and throw it fast enough
so
it
didn’t
look
like
a
softball
toss.
Plus,
I
had
to
bat,
so
I
couldn’t
throw
my
arm
out.
Screw it. I rolled the candy around in my mouth and let it rip. My
special. It left my hand still; I watched it. On, on, go on now, spin. It
started to tumble right on time. The bottom dropped out of it. He
swung for the fences. I closed my eyes and held my breath. When I
heard
the
pop
of
the
ball
hit
Mike’s
glove
and
not
the
bat
hitting
the
ball, I opened my eyes, pumped my fist, and thought, Yeah, take
your faggot ass back to the dugout and cry, Pussy!
Tommy batted first. He swung like somebody stabbed him in
his back, it was so stiff. He was at 0-2 in a flash. Their pitcher threw
some high and outside garbage that looked more like a field goal
than a pitch. Tommy swung at it, too. He tried to check his swing,
but the third base umpire called it a strike. Dammit, Tommy. I
watched from the dugout. A.P. was up on deck. I tried to signal to
Vanessa to give me a piece of candy. She turned the bag upside
down to show me they were all gone; she knew I was mad. I
bugged my eyes at her, and she ran toward me at the fence to say,
“You
don’t
have
to
pitch
anymore.
So
there
was
only
one
piece
left,
and
I’m
eating
it.”
I
said,
“But
I
gotta
bag,
Nessa.
Damn!”
“I’m
sorry.
I
don’t
have
time
to
go
get
some
more.
You’ll
have
to
bat
without
it,
unless
you
want
this
piece
out
of
my
mouth.”
“Yeah,
give
it
here.”
185
While
I
talked
to
her,
A.P.
had
struck
out
that
fast.
I
didn’t
even
get to swing to warm up. I walked
out
to
the
batter’s
box
and
dug
in. The first pitch came low and fast before I was really ready.
Steeee-rike!
I
didn’t
even
step
out
of
the
box.
You
always
step
out
of the box to break tension and loosen fatigue. I just rattled the
candy around my teeth and parked it in my lower jaw. The pitcher
nodded his signal back and nodded again. I knew his wind-up. He
stepped
out…extended…he
released.
The
ball
was
high.
It
came
out
of his hand spinning backward like he had greased it. It was
wobbling. He probably
had
Vaseline
on
his
arm
all
day.
That’s
alright, Pussy. Watch this. I planted y back foot back a little farther
than normal. The ball was falling fast from the high and inside to
the low and away corner. I shifted my hips and shoulders and
swung with all my might. When I heard the wood hit the ball, I
knew I pulled it. I felt the impact of the bat, and I knew it was a
solid
hit.
But,
it
was
so
bright
and
there
wasn’t
a
cloud
in
the
sky,
so
I
couldn’t
see
where
the
ball
went.
I
just
took
off
running.
I
was
moving like Ricky Henderson. When I got past first base, the crowd
exploded. I looked around, and I knew it went over the high left
field fence. I pulled up to a job and circled the bases. My team was
waiting for me at home plate. I wanted to bring up the issue of the
greased
ball,
but
they
said
they
couldn’t
find
it,
and
it
didn’t
matter
because we won anyway. It was a matter of principle to me. I never
had
to
cheat
to
compete
or
win,
and
I
didn’t
want
anybody
cheating
me.
When I got home, I told my mother that I hit the game-winning
home run. She was on her way to the police station to pick up
Manny and Buster because somebody made an anonymous tip and
identified them as the boys who hit the lick at the pawnshop.
Whoever it was lied. Buster and Manny
didn’t
pull
that
lick;
Buster
and
I
did.
A
lot
of
things
about
what
or
how
I
saw
‘justice’
or
righteousness changed after that. I had to get my hustle on to get a
lawyer for my brothers. That son-of-a-bitch was crooked, too. He
sold my brothers out. I was doing everything but killing people to
get the $8,500 to pay him, but he convinced my mother that it was
best if they pled guilty and got probation. I told him I knew for sure
that
Manny
wasn’t
involved,
but
he
kept
on
saying
that
they
had
a
security camera
tape
that
got
Manny’s
face
real
good.
That
was
impossible
unless
their
security
camera
was
in
my
mother’s
living
room. Not only that, but video camera footage back then was
186
terrible.
The
lawyer
kept
saying
he
didn’t
want
to
take
it
to
trial;
they should have. Nobody caught Manny and Buster with the
money
because
I
had
switched
it
at
Vanessa’s
job.
They
didn’t
have
the pistols because I threw them in the water at Galveston. We
both had on Astros hats and glasses; anybody in Houston could get
an Astros hat. But Mama trusted the lawyer, so my brothers pled
guilty because they were minors. We were told that they would get
a
year’s
probation
and
be
released
to
Mama.
They
didn’t
get
probation; they got sent to Boystown for eleven months. Mama
was mad; I was mad. they were terrified, and when they came
home, we were all emotionally mixed up.
Melvin
told
me
I
wasn’t
shit
if
I
let
people
get
away
with
doing
stuff
to
my
family,
like
we
weren’t
his family. That might not have
been the very beginning, but it was definitely a majorly
contributing factor to the whirlpool of negative and violent actions
we participated in. After a while, I was rumored to have been a
participant
in
several
crimes,
so
the
Yankees
didn’t
want
to
take
a
chance on me. Everybody said if I stayed in shape and out of
trouble, they would come calling the summer after my senior year.
I never again heard from them or anyone else in the baseball
world.
When
the
lawyer’s
body
came
back
washed
up
on
the
beach
in
Galveston with three .45 slugs in his head and duct tape on his
mouth, somebody must have snitched because they pulled me in.
Vanessa lied for me from day one to day one thousand that I was
with her and we had a flat tire. She still had the flat in her trunk to
prove it and the receipt for the gas, but that was really Buster who
changed the flat and who the gas station man saw. He was riding
with
her
because
I
was
mad
at
her
and
hadn’t
spoken
to
her
in
two
days. A lot of people thought they knew I did that and a lot of other
things. It almost seemed like a city-wide crusade to get Buster and
Manny to get at me. It all escalated and got out of hand.
Boystown
wasn’t
just
for
boys.
They
took
people
up
to
twenty-
one years old. Buster was just fifteen and Manny was thirteen.
They came back with conflicts with cats who were trying to turn
them into fags and all sorts of stuff. My guilt had me spastic. If
Manny
said
somebody
tried
to
mess
with
him,
I
put
a
plug
in
‘em.
This nigga named Hampton was running around talking about how
187
much of a killer he was. I put everybody on notice that if any,
ANYBODY’S
name
came
out
of
my
little
brother’s
mouth
and
it
didn’t
sound
right,
they
better
skip
town
or
come
up
dead.
That
punk Hampton came to the ward like he was grim. I grabbed him
like a kidnapping off the playground and dragged his soft ass into
the back of a van we rented from some smokers. I duct taped him,
put my .45 up to his butt, blasted him. Then I put the other two in
his head after he twitched and contorted for about ten minutes. I
gave
him
a
‘Buckwheat.’
So
much
happened
so
fast.
I was sure that Vanessa only told Anthony the pleasant parts of
the stories, but I also worried that Florence was always
conveniently around there to augment the picture. I could see the
wheels spinning
in
Anthony’s
mind,
trying
to
figure
out
how
to
duplicate all of the accounts Vanessa had given him. He wanted to
do
it
all
just
like
I
did,
but
I
didn’t
want
him
to
do
things
like
I
did
at
all. I needed to find a way to explain to him how things happened
without
lying
to
him
or
leaving
parts
out.
I
also
couldn’t
risk
confusing
him
because
different
ends
didn’t
meet
up.
All
of
that
went through my mind as he stood in the kitchen with a big smile
on his face, asking me for a tattoo.
I
asked
him,
“Let’s
just
say
I
say
yes.
What
do
you
want
to
get,
and
where?”
He
looked
at
me
like,
‘Did
you
even
have
to
ask
me
something
like
that?’
He
said,
“You
got
Bingo
on
your
arm.
I’m
gettin’
Lil’
Bingo on mine. You have to go to, so it comes out exactly the same.
The
man
told
me
to
bring
a
picture
of
yours,
but
I
want
you
to
go.”
I wondered—Vanessa, Vanessa, Vanessa, what else have you
told
him?
I
said,
“I’ll
have
to
call
Nessa.”
He had that base covered, and I should have known that. he said
“She
said
it’s
up
to
you.”
It
figured.
I
asked,
“Okay,
then,
how
much
does
it
cost?”
“Thirty-five
dollars.”
I
exclaimed,
“Thirty-five dollars?! Damn, boy, for twice as much
you
can
get
a
permanent
one.
That’s
a
lot
better
bargain.”
188
He asked,
“Really?”
I
shouldn’t
have
said
that.
His
eyes
looked
like,
‘Well
okay,
let’s
get
that
one.’
I
hurried
to
cover
that
track
and
said,
“Noooooo.
No,
never mind I even said anything. Just get your stuff and get in the
truck.”
He cheered and turned to go get his shoes and cap and told
Makayla,
“Hurry
up
and
get
your
shoes
and
stuff,
squirt.
We’re
going
to
get
a
tattoo.”
She lagged behind him like she was getting a tattoo as well,
yelling,
“I’m
not
a
squirt!”
While
they
were
gone,
Maritsa
asked,
“You
haven’t
eaten
yet,
have
you?”
I
wondered
if
my
telepathy
got
through.
I
said,
“No.
You
know
waffles just popped in my mind for some strange reason. What
about
you?”
I smiled at her suggestively. “Me
too,”
she
said.
I was really feeling like I had pulled off some nice shit. She
reached
into
the
freezer
and
pulled
out
a
box
of
little
kids’
frozen
waffles. She knew they were for Makayla. The box even had the
little cartoon characters on there. I
didn’t
honor
the
sarcasm
with
a
response; she could barely hold her laughter in. she pinched me on
the cheek and picked up Brian, who was smelling foul about the
butt.
I
volunteered,
“You
fix
that.
I’ll
fix
myself
something
to
eat.”
The rest of the day was wonderful. Anthony got his tattoo.
Makayla got a little one, too. Anthony and I got haircuts. Makayla
didn’t
want
a
haircut.
We
went
to
Stark’s
Barbershop,
and
he
hooked us up. All evening, Anthony walked around the house
looking in every mirror. He must have brushed all the enamel off
his
teeth.
Sheila
said,
“Lord,
were
you
that
vain
when
you
were
his
age?”
“Worse!
I
was
the
pretty
boy
in
the
ghetto.
Everybody
else
was
dark
and
had
nappy
hair.”
“Good
God,
he’s
gonna
be
a
monster
in
high
school.”
189
I
had
to
concede
and
say,
“All
of
this
is
because
Brandy
is
coming
to
the
game
tomorrow.”
We teased him all night about Brandy. Then, before he went to
bed early to get his beauty rest, she called. What did she do that
for? I dogged him. I mean, I dro-o-ve him. I put the steering wheel
in his back and stepped on the gas. Every time I passed him, I
would
ask
something
like,
“What
does
Brandy
look
like?”
Or
“She’s
a
chicken
head,
ain’t
she?”
I
loaded
my
insult
basket:
“She’s
probably bald-headed
and
missing
one
eye.”
“She
got
so
many
teeth
missing
that
she
can
whistle
by
smiling
and
inhaling.”
“She
betta
not
have
a
curl.”
“Tell
her
to
not
come
on
the
bus
and
try
to
use
the
same
transfer
to
get
back
home.”
He was really getting the business, and even Makayla got in on
it.
she
said,
“Brandy
can’t
even
dance.”
That
was
her
best
insult.
“Go
ahead,
you
can
tell
me.
Is
she
a
chicken
head?
I
just
need
to
know
to
prepare
myself
ahead
of
time,”
I
teased.
He looked
at
me
like,
‘Yeah,
right’
and
answered,
“No.”
I
asked,
“Does
she
make
good
grades?”
He
defended,
“All
As,
just
like
me.”
“What’s
her
last
name?
They’re
probably
too
broke
to
even
have
a
last
name,”
I
asked
jokingly.
“Tatum.
And
no, they’re
not.”
It
just
couldn’t
be.
Oh,
my
God.
Say
it
ain’t
so.
I
just
knew
that
as
big
as
Houston
was,
this
couldn’t
be
a
coincidence,
so
I
asked,
“What
are
her
parents’
first
names?”
He
held
the
phone
after
he
asked
what
her
parents’
first
names
were.
He
said,
“Corintha
and
Wesley.”
190
I almost fell out and hit my head. What a small world. The
pimpster extraordinaire had a daughter. How about that? But then,
I thought, Hold on. I have a daughter. Hmm, that was interesting
enough to send my dipping and joking ass to bed in reflection of
some
stuff
I
had
done
to
folk’s
daughters
back
in
the
day.
It
also
made
me
remember
the
fact
that
Vanessa
is
somebody’s
daughter.
Bev,
too,
and
more
importantly,
Sheila
as
well.
But
it
didn’t
stop
me
from putting down another mean demonstration in the bed on
Maritsa’s
daughter,
and
she
loved
every
bit
of
it—pain, soreness,
and all.
The next morning, we all got up and ate and had a nice
breakfast gathering. Brian always had a strange propensity to
throw his food, but that day, he ate more of it. I still felt good and
bubbly from the inside. Anthony and I went to wash the cars.
Instead of busting our knuckles, I decided to stop being cheap and
take them to the detail shop and save the quality time. I was
learning.
I
drove
by
Bev’s
house
both
times
to
and
from
the
car
wash. She was out there, bent over in her garden, looking as good
as
ever,
but
I
wasn’t
so
anxious
to
pounce
on
her
like
I
used
to
be.
I
thought that was an improvement on my character and maturity. It
was a silent and very private moral victory. Control felt good.
Before that day, my fangs would have been hanging out. I honked
and we waved; she waved back. When we came back by, she
flagged me down to stop. I pulled over and whoa Nelly!
She stepped up to the truck. I had only ever seen a glimpse of
her cleavage one time, and that was the last Tuesday. But that day,
she had a t-shirt n that was quite thin, and a bra that was more of a
serving tray. All I could think of was Sir Mix-a-lot’s
‘Put
‘em on the
Glass’
video.
She
wasn’t
playing
fair
at
all.
I
tried
to
think
if
she
had
that shirt on when we went by the first three times. She greeted us
both, but spoke to Anthony first. I bet his little dick was hard, too.
She
said,
“Hey,
lil’
man,
you’re
looking sharp. Your dad take you to
get
a
haircut?”
Oh,
that
just
made
his
day.
He
started
cheesing.
Then
she
asked
me,
“Hey,
can
you
drive
Tuesday?
I’m
gonna
take
my
car
to
the
Toyota
place
to
get
the
lights
repaired,
AGAIN!”
I
said,
“The
key
is
to
learn
how
to
park
and
slow
down.”
191
She
smiled
and
said,
“Well,
professor,
as
soon
as
you
get
ready
to
offer
some
driving
lessons,
I
guess
I’ll
be
ready
to
back
this
thang up, park, and get all of my up and down, front to back, side
view
and
all
the
rest
of
that
on,
won’t
I?
What
do
you
have
going
on
for
the
day?”
I guess it would have sounded very weird for me to try to shush
Anthony, especially considering all the times I had covertly used
his commentary for an ice-breaker. She was doing the same thing
back.
He
came
to
the
rescue
and
said,
“Basketball.”
We
didn’t
have
any
classified
secrets
to
hide
from
her,
but
after
I
thought
about
it,
that
wasn’t
the
best
answer.
No
biggie;
he
didn’t
know. I just figured it to be more prudent to prevent certain
energies
from
colliding,
namely
Vanessa
and
Bev.
Plus,
I
didn’t
want to have Sheila peep the whole scene and me have to explain it
later.
Alas, my little attention-seeking son innocently and
unassumingly hung me out
to
dry
by
saying,
“I
have
a
big
game
today, Ms. Bev. Look what Daddy got me. See, just like his. If you
come,
I’ll
strike
somebody
out
for
you.
You’ll
have
to
know
the
signal.
Um,
lemme
think…if
you
see
me
touch
my
hat
and
then
my
ear and then two times on
my
chin,
that’s
for
you.
Like
this,
watch.”
He did it and she smiled at him. She did it back, winked at him,
and
said,
“A
strike
out
for
me.
Only
me,
right?”
“Only
you.
Mom
and
Mama
Sheila
and
Grandma
already
know
their
signals.”
Bev asked,
“You
don’t
have
a
signal
for
your
dad?”
“Every
pitch
is
for
my
dad,
but
I
just
have
to
signal
who
else
is
with
him.”
Bev
said,
“Alright,
then.
Let’s
see
it
work,
baby.”
She
winked
at
me
and
did
the
signal
and
said
to
Anthony,
“You
are
a
mess.
Boy,
if
you
were
only
ten
years
older…”
192
The words you are searching are inside this book. To get more targeted content, please make full-text search by clicking here.
Man of the House with cover
Discover the best professional documents and content resources in AnyFlip Document Base.
Search