Man of the House with cover

I would have liked to hear her finish that statement. Anthony
cut
 her
 off
 and
 said,
 “Oh,
 we’re
 the
 home
 team,
 so
 you
 have
 to
 wear
 
white
 with
 purple,
 not
 purple
 with
 white.”

Bev
 said,
 “Alright. Look for me in the stands. You know I used to
be
 a
 cheerleader?”

Why? Why, God, was I being tempted like that? I was about to
bust already. Then thinking about her in a cheerleading outfit went
too far. I almost punched the gas and drove over her toes. I had to
go. I told her we needed to get home to prepare for the game.
Anthony was charged up. So was I, which was all the more reason
we really had to go.

At home, everybody had on white and purple. Sheila was
looking sporty as hell. She had on some tan khaki shorts, an air-
brushed Panthers t-shirt, and a purple and white Adidas sun visor.
She
 had
 my
 sweats
 and
 jersey
 all
 set
 out
 and
 Anthony’s
 uniform,
 
too. My jersey was a big version of the team jersey. Sheila set out
shorts and a t-shirt for Anthony to warm up and still in for Brandy.
I backed the truck up to load all the gear we needed to keep Brian
settled,
 Makayla
 content,
 Maritsa’s
 butt
 from
 hurting,
 and
 every
 
piece of equipment known to the baseball world for Anthony. I
changed clothes, and must say I was looking rather sporty myself. I
had a brand new Panthers hat and my shades. Anthony brushed
his teeth for the 90,000th time. The man at the tattoo place told him
to put Vaseline on the tattoo to make the colors shine and show
well in the sunlight. He had plenty of Vaseline on his hands, ready
to rub it in until I warned him that greasing the ball was cheating.

He
 argued,
 “But
 my
 tattoo…”

I led him to the bathroom, and we washed his hands with every
soap we could find to get all of the grease off. He was bent out of
shape.
 I
 had
 to
 ask
 him,
 “Do
 you
 want
 to
 show
 a
 tattoo
 and
 get
 
disqualified for the whole tournament? Not only you, but your
whole
 team?”

He relented, but he definitely was not happy about it. He knew
that his team was eliminated from the tournament last year.
Maritsa
 came
 to
 the
 rescue.
 She
 said,
 “Here,
 I
 have
 lotion.
 I’ll
 rub
 it
 
on
 in
 the
 truck.
 Now
 let’s
 go.”

193

His
 eyes
 lit
 up.
 He
 kissed
 her
 and
 said,
 “Thank
 you,
 Grandma.”
 
He gave the signal for her strike out—two taps to the shoulder, one
swipe across the chest, and a move that looked like a blown kiss.
She
 gave
 it
 back.
 Then
 she
 stopped
 him
 and
 said,
 “Hey,
 don’t
 
forget…”
 She
 gave
 him
 another
 signal.
 It
 looked
 like
 she
 scrubbed
 
her hands, did paper-rock-scissors, and pointed back to herself
with her thumb. He straightened his face like he had been scolded
and nodded his head.

After
 he
 walked
 away
 and
 she
 got
 the
 lotion,
 I
 asked,
 “What’s
 
that
 signal
 for?”

She
 sang,
 “No-thing,
 Mijo.
 Don’t
 be
 so
 nosey.”
 I
 left
 it
 alone.

At the game, we all found comfortable seats and got some
drinks. People started to show up. One man had a grill attached to
the trailer hitch in his truck, and he was doing some serious tail-
gating by the time we drove up. People were even offering to buy
some
 of
 his
 bratwurst
 sandwiches.
 I
 wanted
 one,
 but
 couldn’t
 bring
 
myself to admit that somebody had out-thought me. I was envious.
My microscopic objective was to find out wherever he bought that
grill, get one, and have it painted purple and white by the next
week. The coach and team showed up, and they started warming
up.
 Anthony
 pointed
 Brandy
 out,
 but
 he
 really
 didn’t
 have
 to.
 She
 
was all dolled up; reminded me a lot of Vanessa in our early days.
The whole situation also reminded me that I would need to brief
my son on a few things, just in case he was seriously trying to be
smitten
 with
 Brandy.
 But,
 I
 had
 to
 admit,
 she’s
 a
 cute
 little
 girl.
 
She’s
 well-mannered
 and
 looks
 like
 butter
 wouldn’t
 melt
 in
 her
 
mouth. Her parents were with her. I assumed they were split up,
but I got my face cracked when Wes introduced himself, Brandy,
and
 ‘my
 lovely
 wife
 of
 eighteen
 years,
 Corintha.’
 I
 thought
 to
 
myself, You double-crossing so and so. Then, oh dayyam. I
remembered that Bev was on her way, too. It was going to be a
three-ring circus in the stands. I wanted to pull Sheila aside and tell
her
 everything,
 but
 I
 didn’t
 have
 time.
 Things
 happened
 so
 fast.
 Bev
 
came wearing a pair of purple running tights and a long, white tank
top that was tied in a knot on her right hip. The knot showed just
enough
 booty,
 without
 panty
 lines
 I
 might
 add,
 to
 keep
 everybody’s
 
wives upset for their husbands, boyfriends, or whoevers staring.

194

Sheila just shook her head in disbelief and whispered to her
mother. I wanted to know what they were saying.

Bev
 sat
 down
 and
 greeted
 everybody,
 like
 she
 wasn’t
 pleased.
 
Corintha looked fit to be tied; Wes looked nervous as hell. Bev put
her hat and shades on so nobody could see her facial expressions
and cheered Anthony. Brandy cheered and he ate it up. What a
ham. I mean, HAMMMM, with a big salty bone in the middle. I was
about to burst because of all the supposedly subdued tension going
on, and for once, I was not the center of it all. Then, like a bolt of
black lightening, Nessa rolled up.

Nessa AND Florence, who was the Grinch that could steal my
Christmas even in the middle of the summer. Nessa walked up and
was wearing her latest fashion creation. She had a jersey that
looked
 just
 like
 mine
 and
 Anthony’s.
 She
 had bought a grown-ups’
 
pair of uniform pants and obviously had them altered to look like
low-rise capri pants. They were tight, too—not paint on tight, but
they
 were
 coochie
 cutters
 for
 sure.
 She
 bit
 into
 some
 of
 Bev’s
 
attention. Her jersey was a number four, and when she turned
around,
 I
 saw
 that
 she
 had
 ‘Grimes’
 on
 the
 back,
 too.
 Florence
 wore
 
damn
 near
 Daisy
 Dukes.
 She’s
 a
 little
 shorter
 than
 Nessa,
 but
 with
 a
 
big ole booty, a little bitty waist, and a fluffy little rack of titties that
make her look like
 she’s
 newly
 pregnant
 or
 a
 damn
 good
 hooker.
 
Anthony saw his cheering section gathering, and he hammed it up.
All we needed for his head to blow up to the size of the Goodyear
Blimp
 would’ve
 been
 for
 my
 mother
 to
 show
 up.
 But
 then,
 the
 next
 
best thing showed up—Auntie
 Fay.
 I
 couldn’t
 remember
 the
 last
 
time I saw her in shorts and a t-shirt, but she there, looking like a
real
 sports
 fan.
 I
 was
 glad
 she
 got
 there
 because
 she
 wasn’t
 going
 
for any nonsense, and the situation definitely had the potential for
there to be some. Everybody greeted, made their introductions,
and got comfortable.

Auntie
 Fay
 knew
 Wes
 and
 Corintha.
 That
 didn’t
 surprise
 me.
 She
 
has been to every church in Houston, twice. Plus, after listening to
Bev tell it, Wes makes his way around to other congregations to
sow his oats. Auntie Fay would never come right out and say
anything crass in public, but she would give anybody the what for
and who with, if they felt their chest getting a little too big, in
private. She had a few nice hints or funky comments on the sly for

195

Wes, though. I thought, Oh, you have to be a creep to have Auntie
Fay riding your tail like that. she said her peace and gave a nice,
funky,
 ‘jump
 if
 you
 really
 need
 me
 to
 cut
 your
 throat’
 look
 to
 him.
 
He popped right in line. Corintha seemed to enjoy or take some
sick pleasure in seeing another woman put her husband in check
where
 she
 obviously
 couldn’t.
 It
 looked
 like
 somebody
 slammed
 a
 
steel
 gate
 between
 them
 after
 that.
 They
 didn’t
 even
 touch.
 I
 just
 
wished I could have hard all that Auntie Fay said to him under her
breath because I know it was juicy. I knew I was dipping too hard,
when Sheila had to tap me on the leg and get my attention. That
little nudge drew my attention back to Vanessa. I had my jersey
made specially; she must have tapped Anthony about where we
went last weekend. The problem in the appearance of the whole
thing was that she and I looked like Twinkies, and anybody looking
from the outside in would automatically think that we were
married. She even had that damn promise ring I gave her on her
wedding band finger.

The ring was an actual engagement ring. I had gotten it from a
smoker way back in the day. We thought it was fake, but my
homeboy A-Plus’s
 mother
 worked
 for
 the
 jewelry
 department
 at
 
Neiman Marcus, and she had it appraised. I was feeling particularly
pussy-whipped at the time and gave it to Vanessa. The next day, I
woke up and figured out what kind of image I had given her, so I
asked for it back. Needless to say, I never got it back, and when she
wants
 to
 cause
 a
 nice
 little
 bit
 of
 confusion,
 she’ll
 wear it. If
anybody
 asks,
 she
 is
 more
 than
 happy
 to
 tell
 other
 women
 that
 it’s
 
a half carat princess-cut solitaire and that I gave it to her. Then
when
 somebody
 says,
 ‘Girl,
 he
 must
 love
 you.
 How
 long
 have
 you
 
been
 married?’,
 she’s
 quick
 to
 act
 humble
 and
 coy
 and
 say,
 “Oh,
 no;
 
we
 never
 married.
 He’s
 married
 to
 Sheila.
 Sheila,
 show
 them
 your
 
ring.”
 Of
 course,
 Sheila’s
 is
 a
 little
 smaller.
 Vanessa,
 Vanessa…

I tried my luck. I leaned to her subtly and asked through gritted
and
 smiley
 teeth,
 “Where
 did
 you
 get
 that
 jersey?”

She
 answered
 me
 the
 same
 way,
 “Don’t
 start
 no
 shit
 out
 here,
 
Bingo.
 I’m
 here
 to
 support
 my
 son.”
 Aaarrrgh.
 I
 wanted
 to
 punch
 
her little delicious ass right in the nose.

196

So there I was, surrounded by Auntie Faye and Maritsa behind
me. Makayla was on my right side. Sheila, on my left, had Brian in
her lap. Brandy and Bev were at the end. Nessa was down in front
of me with Florence on her left next to Wesley and Corintha, who
was trying to get away from him as much as possible without
making a spectacle of it all. By my standards, I was the only man in
the whole bunch. Wesley sat there looking like a petrified little
bitch.
 Corintha’s
 jaws
 were
 right,
 and
 it
 didn’t
 help
 the
 situation
 
that Florence started flirting and trying to make her little play for
him. His wolf fangs were peeking out of his lips, too. That would
serve both he and Florence right for them to end up in the bed
together. He would die to know that she would screw or suck
anything for a dime piece, and she would die to hear him preach
the gospel to her after beating up her guts. The visual was too
much. I had to stop thinking about it. Auntie Faye sat there,
peeping
 it
 all.
 I
 couldn’t
 say
 too
 much
 because
 I
 must
 have
 looked
 
like the cat with the canary feathers in my mouth when Bev and
Nessa showed up. I forgot my pimp of the year speech as I sat there
with my wife, my woman, and my ho.

The sun was beaming, and it was already 85 degrees at 11:00

a.m. Something was going on in the dugout. I was
distracted by the ice cream truck music. Makayla saw me looking

and
 lost
 her
 mind,
 “Halado
 dulce!
 Oooooh,
 quiero
 helado
 dulce,
 
Papa.
 ¿Puedo
 tenerlo,
 Papa?”
 She
 pulled
 at
 my
 sleeve
 and
 begged,
 

“Daddy,
 please.”
 She
 wanted
 a
 snow
 cone
 actually,
 but
 when
 Nessa
 
and Florence looked at her like she was speaking Marsian, I
translated,
 “She
 wants
 ice
 cream.”

Florence was in her rare non-inebriated
 form,
 but
 that
 didn’t
 
stop
 her
 from
 being
 funky.
 She
 said,
 “Well,
 go
 get
 her
 some
 before
 
she
 explode,
 witcho
 CHEAP,
 stingy
 ass.” Vanessa pinched her. I
wanted to punch her square in her jaw. I had visualized doing it so
many times. Since I was about nineteen, I had just wanted to steal
on
 her
 so
 hard.
 Makayla
 didn’t
 stop
 pleading
 until
 I
 said
 I’d
 get
 it
 
for her. As I got up to walk,
 Sheila
 said,
 “You
 might
 as
 well
 get
 one
 
for
 everybody.”

Vanessa
 added,
 “Yeah,
 Bingo,
 you
 know
 what
 I
 like.”

Florence
 said,
 “Act
 like
 you
 know.”

197

Vanessa checked her with a look. I just swallowed it, turned to
Auntie
 Fay,
 and
 asked,
 “Auntie,
 any
 special
 requests?”

She
 said,
 “No,
 baby,
 I’m
 fine.”

“Auntie,
 if
 I
 buy
 you
 a
 Popsicle,
 will
 you
 eat
 it?”

“Of
 course,
 baby.
 You
 know
 folks
 don’
 got
 beat
 for
 throwing
 
away
 good
 food.”
 She
 was
 hinting
 at
 the
 time
 I
 got
 beat
 for
 scraping
my plate in the toilet to keep Mama from making me pick it out of
the trash. I just laughed. She was teasing me in love. I had told
Sheila that story; Vanessa knew it, too. We all laughed at my
expense.
 I
 asked,
 “Okay,
 then,
 Auntie,
 what
 would
 you
 like?”

“Oh,
 anything.
 I
 trust
 your
 judgment.”

I
 asked
 Sheila
 and
 Maritsa,
 “Baby,
 Ma,
 anything
 special?”

Sheila
 responded,
 “Just
 get
 us
 what
 you
 get.”

I
 asked,
 “Bev?”

“Oh,
 I’m
 fine.
 Go
 on.”

“Brandy,
 Wes,
 Corintha?”

Brandy
 said,
 “No
 thank
 you,
 Mr.
 Grimes.
 I’m
 the
 Candy
 Girl.
 I
 
have
 candy
 for
 me
 and
 Anthony.”
 Vanessa
 cut
 her
 eyes
 back
 at
 me.

Wes
 said,
 “Here,
 I’ll
 come
 with
 you
 Eric,
 to
 help
 you
 carry
 it
 all.”
 
He
 looked
 back
 at
 Corintha
 and
 said,
 “I’ll
 get
 you
 something.”

She
 didn’t
 respond.
 That
 nigga
 was
 trying
 to
 get
 off
 the
 hot
 seat.
 
He went with me. I spent twenty-three dollars at the ice cream
truck. Wes and I made small talk on the way there and back. He
wanted to know how I knew Bev and Florence. Some people
 don’t
 
know when to stop pressing their luck. I told him that Nessa was
Florence’s
 sister
 and
 Bev
 was
 a
 neighbor.
 That
 wasn’t
 what
 he
 
wanted to know. He really wanted to know who I was with and
who I was getting with or not. I left him hanging. When we got
back, I started to hand out all the ice cream and stuff. I had my back
turned to the field. Anthony was arguing with his coach. Auntie Fay

198

noticed
 it
 first.
 She
 pointed
 and
 said,
 “Oh,
 no
 indeed.
 Go
 put
 a
 stop
 
to that right now. We will not have no insolent
 children.”

I knew exactly what was on her mind. She almost stood as she
pointed
 and
 said,
 “Tell
 that
 boy
 he
 better
 not
 make
 me
 come
 down
 
there
 with
 me
 a
 switch.”

I finished handing all the ice cream off and went to see what the
deal was with Vanessa in uninvited tow.

199

Chapter 17

Brandon,
 the
 third
 baseman,
 hadn’t
 shown
 up.
 The
 coach
 said
 
he needed Anthony to play short stop so Damon could play third
and Justin could pitch. Anthony is a much better pitcher than
Justin, but the coach argued
 that
 Justin’s
 defense
 was
 terrible.
 Plus,
 
with
 Justin
 in
 the
 batting
 rotation
 as
 short
 stop,
 they
 didn’t
 have
 
any power in the middle of the batting order.

Anthony
 wasn’t
 trying
 to
 hear
 any
 of
 that.
 He
 argued,
 “No,
 
coach. I have to pitch and bat
 last,
 like
 my
 dad.
 I’ll
 pitch
 a
 no-hitter
then
 ride
 him
 over
 the
 fence
 to
 win.”
 He
 pointed
 to
 the
 tattoo
 on
 
his
 arm
 and
 said,
 “See,
 look.
 Lil’
 Bingo.”

Coach pulled me aside and explained it. His theory made perfect
sense. There was no guarantee that Anthony could throw a no-
hitter,
 and
 the
 other
 team
 didn’t
 have
 power,
 but
 they
 had
 four
 
good placement hitters who would tear Justin up at short stop. I
told
 Anthony,
 “Hey,
 listen,
 son.
 You
 have
 to
 play
 short
 stop
 today.”

He
 stood
 firm
 and
 said,
 “No,
 Dad.
 I’m
 the
 pitcher…the
 leader.
 I
 
don’t
 want
 to
 lose.
 Justin
 can’t
 pitch
 as
 good
 as
 me.
 He’ll
 give
 up
 a
 
bunch of grand slams. I can keep them from scoring.”

“So
 what?
 You
 can’t
 be
 the
 whole
 team.
 The
 TEAM
 needs
 you
 at
 
short.”

“Well,
 I’m
 not
 playing
 short.
 Brandy’s
 here,
 and
 I’m
 not
 trying
 to
 
be dirty from digging grounders and stuff. I told her I was going to
strike
 out
 some
 guys
 for
 her.”

“So
 you
 don’t
 want
 to
 play?”

“Nope.”

“Okay,
 fine.
 Take
 that
 damn
 uniform
 off
 and
 go
 to
 the
 truck.”
 I
 
twitched the remote control and he heard the alarm chirp. I turned
to
 walk
 away.
 He
 stood
 there
 in
 shock.
 I
 yelled
 back,
 “Auntie
 Fay
 
will
 be
 down
 here
 with
 her
 switch,
 and
 I’m
 whuppin’
 that
 ass
 when
 
we
 get
 home!”

He
 ran
 to
 cut
 me
 off
 and
 said,
 “Wait,
 Dad.
 What
 about
 the
 home
 
run
 and
 stuff?
 I
 want
 to
 win,
 like
 you
 said.”

200

“There’s
 more
 than
 one
 way
 to
 win,
 Anthony.
 If
 you
 wanna
 
show
 people
 you’re
 a
 star,
 show
 ‘em
 you
 can
 play
 all
 positions,
 like
 
you
 can.
 That’s
 a
 leader.
 That’s
 a
 winner.
 Otherwise,
 you’ll
 end
 up
 
like
 me.”

He looked so confused. He saw the tears forming in my eyes and
said,
 “But,
 what’s
 so
 wrong
 with
 that,
 Dad?”

I
 sucked
 my
 tears
 back
 and
 said,
 “Anthony,
 you’re
 barely
 a
 
young man. You might not understand it all, even if we keep giving
you bits and pieces of what went on. At twelve, it might seem cool
how
 I
 did
 things.
 That’s
 because
 you
 might
 not
 know
 any better. At
twenty-two, you might hate yourself and feel so separated from
any and everything you thought you knew that you hate yourself
and everything about you. At thirty-two,
 when
 you’re
 supposed
 to
 
be mature and wise enough to look at the big picture, that might
only
 show
 you
 that
 you’re
 left
 wondering
 how
 to
 get
 back
 into
 
God’s
 game.
 Don’t
 make
 the
 same
 mistakes
 I
 made,
 son.
 You
 might
 
not
 understand
 it
 right
 now,
 but
 I’m
 not
 Melvin.
 You
 can
 trust
 me
 
to give you good advice. Play shortstop today. Win. Come back to
pitch
 against
 Alvarez
 next
 week
 to
 advance
 to
 the
 regionals.”

All of that was taking place on the field for everybody to see but
only Anthony, Vanessa, and me to hear. She stood there watching
and listening with no input. After a while,
 I
 really
 couldn’t
 see
 him
 
because
 my
 tears
 blurred
 my
 vision.
 
 I
 wasn’t
 trying
 to
 make
 a
 
scene but I knew I was making one and it was okay as long as I
didn’t
 make
 a
 spectacle.
 
 Finally,
 Anthony
 conceded,
 “Okay,
 I’ll
 play
 
it.”

I looked at his face.
 It
 didn’t
 look
 right,
 so
 I
 grabbed
 him
 by
 the
 
arms
 and
 said,
 “No.
 to
 the
 truck.
 Come
 on.
 I
 won’t
 let
 you
 come
 out
 
here
 and
 dog
 it.
 It’s
 not
 about
 love
 for
 the
 game.
 This
 ain’t
 even
 
about the team anymore. This is about you and love for yourself.
You must have
 a
 sense
 of
 pride
 and
 honor
 in
 the
 things
 you
 do.”

Vanessa
 interrupted,
 “You’re
 sure
 somebody
 to
 talk.”

I
 held
 Anthony’s
 arm
 tight
 and
 turned
 to
 look
 at
 her.
 I
 said,
 
“She’s
 right,
 Anthony.
 She’s
 been
 right
 about
 a
 lot
 of
 things
 about
 
me.”
 I
 barely
 held
 back
 the
 tears
 when
 I
 continued,
 “Anthony,
 pay
 
very close attention. Vanessa, I apologize for all of the things I did

201

to you or the promises I broke to you and for the love you feel
cheated
 out
 of.
 From
 now
 on
 I’ll
 be
 honest
 about
 who
 I
 am
 or how I
feel,
 even
 if
 it’s
 a
 sacrifice
 to
 us
 both.
 He
 knows
 about
 your
 
birthday.
 No
 more
 sex.
 No
 games,
 no
 nothing,
 okay?
 That’s
 all
 I
 can
 
do
 and
 it’s
 all
 I
 pledge
 to
 do.
 This
 is
 life
 and
 it’s
 not
 a
 game.
 I’m
 
married
 to
 Sheila,
 and
 I
 don’t
 plan
 on
 that
 changing. I love you, but
I was too immature to know how to love you, or what it felt like to
be in love with you, so you can blame all of your deficiencies in our
relationship on me if you like. Son, if you make a habit of giving up
or acting out because things
 don’t
 go
 your
 way,
 you
 WILL
 be
 like
 
me,
 in
 more
 ways
 than
 I
 wish
 for
 you
 to.”
 I
 pulled
 my
 jersey
 up
 to
 
show
 him
 the
 scars.
 “The
 only
 war
 I
 went
 to
 was
 right
 here
 in
 my
 
own
 mind.”

That’s
 it,
 that’s
 all
 I
 had
 to
 confess
 to
 her
 or
 to
 him
 without
 
going into details that none of had time or the liberty to get into at
the moment. At that moment there could be no more shame or
manipulation through blame or accusations of wrong doing.
Anthony
 looked
 at
 me
 and
 said,
 “Okay,
 Dad,
 I’ll
 play
 it.”

“You
 gonna
 play
 it?”

He sucked his tears in, too, and nodded his head. He pointed to
his
 tattoo
 and
 said,
 “Gonna
 play
 it.”

I gave him a big hug and dragged Vanessa back to the stands.
She
 pulled
 away
 and
 skipped
 back
 to
 him
 and
 said,
 “Oh,
 I
 almost
 
forgot.”

She
 gave
 him
 a
 piece
 of
 candy.
 I
 didn’t
 know
 those
 little
 pants
 
had pockets, but they only had room for something small like that
little candy, anyway. She ran to catch back up to me and asked,
“You
 weren’t
 really
 going
 to
 make
 him
 quit,
 were you?
 He
 doesn’t
 
have
 to
 play
 shortstop
 if
 he
 doesn’t
 want
 to.
 He
 plays
 other
 sports,
 
and
 there
 will
 be
 other
 games.”

I
 just
 said
 dryly,
 “Shut
 up,
 Vanessa.”
 I
 couldn’t
 believe
 she
 was
 
so
 obtuse.
 Well,
 actually,
 I
 could,
 but…

She
 continued,
 “Who’re
 you
 talking
 to?
 Don’t
 get
 sassy
 and
 
brand new because your little wife and mistress are out here. Yeah,
thought
 I
 didn’t
 peep
 that?
 I
 know
 you.
 I
 have
 dealt
 with
 other
 

202

bitches
 trying
 to
 step
 on
 my
 toes
 for
 eighteen
 years.
 You
 ain’t
 
gonna
 change.”

I
 just
 tried
 to
 ignore
 her
 and
 sang,
 “Shut
 your
 mouth,
 Vanessa.”

That
 only
 made
 her
 turn
 the
 heat
 up
 more.
 She
 argued,
 “I’m
 not
 
shuttin’
 up.
 If
 I’d’ve
 spoke
 up
 a
 long
 time
 ago,
 I
 might
 be
 me
 sittin’
 
up there with a little girl and a new baby in my lap. Ooooh, you
make me so sick. And to think, I thought I wanted to go through all
this madness again with you. You better hope I get my period next
week.”
 My
 knees
 almost
 buckled.
 She
 walked
 on
 into
 the
 stands
 
like nothing was wrong.

When I got back, Sheila asked what was going on. I explained
the whole short stop thing. She also wanted to know what Vanessa
and I argued about, but she asked discretely. Auntie Fay busted in
discretely
 and
 said,
 “Same
 ol’
 bag
 o’
 tricks,
 huh,
 nephew?
 
Sometimes,
 it
 ain’t
 all
 the
 man’s
 doin’.
 Just
 wait
 it
 out.
 Don’t
 lend
 
energy to it thinking about it or discussing it. Just wait on the
Lord.”

Vanessa
 obviously
 wasn’t
 satisfied
 that
 she
 had
 not
 gotten
 a
 rise
 
out
 of
 me,
 or
 that
 I
 didn’t
 clown.
 She
 took
 her
 jersey
 off. She had on
a purple sports bra that fit very well. As the players took the field,
she
 stood
 and
 cheered,
 “Alright,
 Panthers!”
 She
 was
 clowning.
 She
 
pulled
 a
 ball
 cap
 and
 some
 other
 things
 out
 of
 the
 gym
 bag
 she’d
 
brought. She twisted the cap back like Anthony and me, and put on
a
 batter’s
 glove
 and
 wrist
 bands
 and
 a
 pair
 of
 shades
 that
 were
 
exactly like mine. I knew she had the Bingo tattoos on her chest
and on the small of her back. She had another one just below the
front waistline under the shaved pubic hair and slightly above the
pelvic bone. You have to have your face in a very peculiarly
compromising position to see it. Sheila had heard about them, but
never seen them before. For as dark as Vanessa is, her tattoos were
vibrant that day. She acted like she paid me no mind, and that was
fine with me. The rest of us talked, cheered, and enjoyed the game.

Anthony played the hell out of short stop. He was on the ground
digging grounders, jumping to grab balls off the high hop, and
shooting runners out at first and second. He turned double plays.
Every play, he was focused and ready. He waited with feet wide
and center of gravity low, pounding the web of his glove with his

203

fist. Click, the ball went his way. He covered it and flipped it to
second,
 but
 Josh
 couldn’t
 turn
 the
 double
 play
 because
 he
 bobbled
 
the ball coming out of his glove.

At the ball
 field
 in
 the
 third
 inning…that’s
 when
 it
 happened.
 I
 
wasn’t
 sure
 if
 it
 was
 an
 out
 of
 body
 experience
 or
 what.
 Everything
 
went quiet and played in slow motion for everybody else, but real
time
 motion
 for
 me.
 I
 saw
 the
 looks
 on
 everybody’s
 faces.
 Anthony
 
waved at Brandy and rolled the candy around in his mouth.
Vanessa was down behind the dugout, squatted down, pounding
her
 fist
 mimicking
 Anthony.
 Brian
 was
 sleeping
 in
 Sheila’s
 lap,
 and
 
Makayla was stuffing her mouth with popcorn. Sheila was like the
only other person who was in tune. She winked at me. Everything
was
 perfectly
 clear,
 and
 although
 my
 mother
 wasn’t
 there,
 I
 knew
 
exactly where she was. She was at the church down on her knees,
sobbing and praying for my soul. I could hear her whimpering and
the indistinguishable sound of her voice squeaking into her clasped
hands. I looked back over to Sheila again. A spark of light splashed
a blinding prism of colors into my eyes. The sound of the bat
hitting the ball snapped everything back into sync. Josh flipped the
ball to Anthony to tag the bag. Anthony ran in celebrating, and
although Vanessa and everybody else was cheering him and the
team, he looked at me and pointed to his tattoo.

He sat patiently in the dugout waiting for his turn to bat. I
looked up into the sky to see only one little cloud and the sun
shining so bright. I wondered if Buster and Manny could see us. I
began
 to
 cry.
 I
 heard
 Anthony
 say,
 “Mom,
 I
 need
 candy.”
 Vanessa
 
looked back at Brandy and reached for a piece of candy. She looked
at me and then smiled at Anthony to relay the candy. Sheila wiped
my
 face
 and
 said,
 “It’s
 okay,
 Eric.
 God
 loves
 you
 best,
 and
 we
 love
 
you
 next.”

I nodded my head; she kissed me. Auntie Fay patted me on my
back and rubbed it in, like people do for little babies. I heard Auntie
Fay
 say
 under
 her
 breath
 and
 praying,
 “Thank
 you
 Lord,
 yessssss,
 
yesssss, salvation and redemption are available for the faithful.
We’ll
 carry
 them
 until
 they
 can
 carry
 us.
 Yessss,
 Lord.
 Thank
 you.
 
Thank
 you,
 Jesus.”

204

When Anthony came up to bat, there were to men on base. The
pitcher pushed and got behind in the count—three balls and no
strikes. Anthony was patient and poised. The pitcher threw a good
strike to wake Anthony up out of his arrogance. The next pitch was
too low, and Anthony caught him slipping. A dinger to right field.
The two runners made it home, but Anthony got caught at third. It
looked like a home run but fell just inside the fence. He thought it
was
 gone
 and
 didn’t
 hustle,
 so
 the
 coach
 held
 him
 at
 third.
 I
 could
see that he was sick. Deion Sanders, Bo Jackson, Derek Jeter all had
turned in-the-park homers. I used to tell Anthony how it was so
much better than even blasting one over the fence because it said
that you beat the pitcher and the rest of the team. I saw the look on
his face; he was in the zone. He still had candy in his mouth. He
wasn’t
 standing
 up
 on
 the
 bag.
 He
 was
 itching
 to
 test
 the
 pitcher
 
and the catcher. He measured his lead off the bag; he was
determined to score. Corey was at bat. Coach gave Corey the signal
to bunt. The ball came down the pipes. It was a good pitch to bunt
because it was off speed. Corey turned and got ready in time. Pop!
The ball popped up instead of staying down. Corey took off
running. Anthony should have stayed at third to force pressure on
the pitcher to have to watch first and third bases, but when he saw
the pitcher running to dig the ball and looking toward the first
base, he took off as fast as he could toward home. I stood and
yelled,
 “Drive,
 Anthony!”
 He
 ran
 in
 like a locomotive with a full
head of steam. Then right at the last second—actually not soon
enough—the pitcher flipped the ball backwards to the catcher. The
ball
 went
 over
 Anthony’s
 head
 as
 he
 slid
 head
 first.
 When
 the
 dust
 
cleared,
 the
 umpire
 yelled,
 “He’s
 out!!!”

The crowd went off. There was no way that kid caught the ball
and
 brought
 it
 down
 to
 make
 the
 tag
 in
 time.
 Anthony’s
 hand
 was
 
across the base, and the guy tagged him on his back. Vanessa was
going off. Florence joined the booing section. I was
 mad.
 I
 didn’t
 
like anybody cheating my son.

Anthony
 picked
 himself
 up
 and
 didn’t
 even
 brush
 off
 his
 chest.
 
He mean mugged the pitcher and stared down as he mouthed to
him,
 ‘Every
 time.’
 The
 boy
 mouthed
 back,
 ‘Come
 on.’

Anthony growled at him and pointed to the tattoo. The way I
saw it, he was safe. It seemed that way to everybody else who saw

205

it,
 too,
 and
 they
 were
 outraged.
 Anthony
 didn’t
 look
 distraught.
 He
 
picked
 up
 Corey’s
 bat
 and
 trotted
 in
 to
 the
 dugout.
 I
 went
 down
 to
 
ask him why he didn’t
 listen
 to
 his
 coach.
 He
 said,
 “Coach
 isn’t
 a
 
pitcher.
 I’m
 the
 leader.
 We
 have
 to
 play
 to
 win.
 I
 had
 to
 make
 him
 
respect
 us,
 Dad.
 It’s
 just
 the
 fourth
 inning.
 We
 won’t
 make
 it
 with
 
just
 two
 runs.”
 He
 was
 right.
 Coach
 overheard
 him
 talking
 and
 
decided to listen and changed the usually conservative game plan.
From then on, every time somebody got on base, Coach sent the
runner.
 The
 more
 aggressive
 game
 plan
 knocked
 the
 pitcher’s
 
nerves off. He was too worried about stolen bases to pitch well. Not
only that,
 but
 Anthony’s
 team
 had
 a
 few
 pretty
 quick
 kids.

The Panthers were ahead 8 to 4 in the bottom of the eighth
inning. Coach was trying to hold the lead, so he told everybody to
try to get base hits and nobody swing for the fences. The plan was
to get on base and advance runners one by one and/or steal
everything
 that
 wasn’t
 nailed
 down.
 Anthony
 followed
 directions
 
and got on base. Corey batted behind him, and they were on
second and first, respectively. Mark struck out. Justin flied out, but
Anthony sacrificed to third. Tommy was up. All he had to do was
get on base. Damon was their big stick, and he could drive
everybody home and really widen the gap. Anthony held his foot
on the bag that time and just waited for Tommy to try to lop it over
the second
 baseman’s
 head,
 but
 he
 blew
 it.

The kids were okay. They jogged in and got ready to take the
field. Their morale was still okay, but I knew Anthony could have
closed the thing up if he was pitching, where Justin had struggled
and
 the
 score
 wasn’t
 worse because of his teammates. If Justin took
any chances, he could blow a good four-point lead really quick. The
Panthers stood there anxious as Justin fell behind quickly and gave
up two quick runs back to back. The momentum began to shift. We
were all on the edges of our seats. The only person who was upset
was
 Brian
 because
 he
 couldn’t
 seem
 to
 get
 everybody
 to
 be
 still
 or
 
quiet so he could get his nap. Auntie Fay got a little restless, too,
and she finally took Brian out to the truck and turned on the radio
and air conditioning. I knew if Brian could talk, he would have said,
“
 ‘Bout
 time!”

Justin was rattled. Anthony kept yelling at him and pointing to
me. Justin fell behind in the count again. His arm was a noodle, but

206

he was still trying to throw heat like his arm was fresh. I told
Anthony so many times how he would have to use off-speed
pitches when he was fresh to save his control and strength down
the stretch. Obviously nobody had shared such information with
Justin. The Yellow Jackets were stinging his butt every time. I heard
a
 faint
 cry
 in
 the
 back
 of
 my
 head,
 but
 I
 didn’t
 know
 where
 it
 came
 
from.
 I
 heard
 it
 again.
 The
 voice
 said,
 “Help
 me.”

I
 looked
 around
 and
 there
 it
 went
 again,
 “Help
 me.”
 It
 was
 
Justin. He was in way over his head. I went down to the fence, and I
talked to him through prayer. I told him how to throw the special,
“Just
 get
 it
 going
 fast
 enough
 to
 drop.
 You’ll
 only
 have
 to
 throw
 six
 
times.”
 He
 tried
 it
 the
 first
 time
 and
 the
 kid
 foul-tipped it. The
second time, it didn’t
 drop.
 One
 ball
 and
 one
 strike.
 Then,
 I
 felt
 like
 
the phones went dead, but I stayed right there for him. He threw it
again; it spun and dropped. Strike two. He had it. He threw it again.
Strike
 three.
 Got
 ‘em
 outta
 there!
 There
 were
 two
 guys
 on
 base.
 
The next batter came up, and if he drove the two guys in, he could
tie it. That would cause the game to go to extra innings. Justin
didn’t
 have
 any
 extra
 innings
 in
 his
 arm.
 If
 the
 kid
 homered,
 they
 
could
 win
 it.
 Justin’s
 first
 pitch
 went
 into
 the
 dirt.
 It didn’t
 have
 any
 
life to it. Still, the Panthers cheered him on. He threw a not-so-fast
ball that was a lucky strike. He threw a curve ball that was foul
tipped. He tried to throw the special, but the boy hit it. It was a
looper
 right
 over
 Anthony’s
 head.
 He and the left fielder raced to
the ball. The two kids on base scored. Because Anthony was out of
position, there was no relay man. Even if he had been in position,
that kid was hyped up and moving, and they might not have caught
him. The kid sprinted for home. His coach was at third, swinging
his
 arm
 around
 and
 telling
 him,
 “Go
 home!
 Go
 home!”
 The
 boy
 
sprinted for the win; he had a jump on the Panthers. As he rounded
third base, Anthony still had the ball in his hand. He took three
running steps and launched a missile to home plate. The Yellow
Jackets
 coach
 yelled,
 “Slide,
 slide!”
 The
 kid
 dipped
 his
 shoulders
 as
 
Terrance caught the ball. They both tumbled and everybody
waited. Terrance rolled over with his glove in his chest like he was
hurt. Sheila jumped up to run out there. Everybody started running
to him. Terrance held the ball up in the air and the umpire yelled,
“He’s
 out!”

207

In the tenth inning, Phillip opened up with a lead-off double.
Mark struck out. Justin grounded out. They walked Tommy and
pitched out to Damon to load the bases for Anthony. As Anthony
saw it all happen, he was on deck and ran back to the fence and
said
 to
 Vanessa,
 “Mom,
 I
 need
 candy.”
 She
 gave
 it
 to
 him,
 and
 he
 
went out there and grand-slammed. Vanessa was possessed. She
was
 jumping
 and
 screaming,
 “That’s
 MY
 baby!
 I
 love
 you,
 Eric
 
Grimes.
 Be
 good
 to
 Mama
 and
 I
 swear
 Mama’s
 gon’
 be
 good
 to
 you,
 
boy!”

They had to go back out there and close it. While they were on
offense, I talked to Justin vocally. I told him to rely on his
teammates. I told him to throw high so all the balls would ground,
and then if he got in trouble, the high balls would set up the special.
The first kid grounded out straight to first. No problem. The second
kid grounded, but the ball caught a wild hop
 over
 Josh’s
 head,
 and
 
the runner stood up at second. There were runners on first and
second. Justin tried the special, and the batter hit it straight to
Anthony, who tagged the runner from second trying to go to third.
The next kid took Justin high and over the fence for two runs. They
were back within two. There were two outs, but nobody on base.
Justin
 was
 in
 the
 dumps.
 The
 next
 batter
 up
 was
 the
 Yellow
 Jackets’
 
pitcher. The Yellow Jackets fans were losing their minds. This kid
was kind of like Anthony normally would be, or Alvarez is for the
Scorpions. Justin hung his head. The Yellow Jackets pitcher went to
the plate looking fresh and confident like he owned Justin. Justin
tried to get himself together. He threw a curve. Bink. The boy hit a
line drive to
 Justin’s
 left
 side.
 Justin
 is
 a
 lefty,
 so
 he
 had
 to
 reach
 all
 
the way back across his body and make the quick focus to catch the
ball. It happened so quickly. They ran out on the field and tackled
him to celebrate.

Boy, was it stressing, but I got more out of the experience than
just watching baseball. I realized that I could see that just having
the opportunity to live, enjoy my wife and children, eat well,
maybe throw up a fence around the yard to keep a few mutts—was
a valiant life. All of the ups and downs even out in the end, or even
if
 they
 don’t,
 God
 gave
 me
 a
 life
 for
 one
 purpose—to live.

208

On the way home from the game, everybody was talkative and
happy. I tried to join in, but the comment about I better hope
Vanessa got her period really had me. The truck was full. Sheila
and I rode in the front; Maritsa, Brian, and Makayla were in the
second row, and Anthony and his inflated head and gear took up all
the
 back.
 Vanessa
 wasn’t
 going
 to
 punk
 me
 like
 that.
 I
 felt
 confident
 
that even if Sheila discovered my liaison with Vanessa, she would
be upset but still forgive me. But, I also knew that a baby in the mix
would really add a new dimension to things that had really started
to
 turn
 for
 the
 better.
 I
 didn’t
 even
 see
 it
 coming,
 either.
 Vanessa
was almost out the door and at the last minute, I got weak and
allowed her to wedge her foot in the crack to keep the door open. I
knew
 I
 wasn’t
 setting
 the
 right
 examples
 for
 Anthony,
 and
 there
 
were no excuses to make for that. Bev had all but cut her own
throat.
 I
 didn’t
 know
 if
 she
 would
 feel
 like
 I
 planned
 for
 Wes
 and
 
Corintha to be there, but at least I had the alibi of Anthony and
Brandy’s
 little
 puppy
 love
 romance.
 Humh,
 I
 wondered
 what
 my
 
mother would say about all that was going on. I was daydreaming
and not paying attention to the road.

Sheila
 raised
 her
 hand
 to
 my
 chest
 and
 screamed,
 “Eric!”
 I
 
jammed on the brakes and just barely missed hitting a little boy
riding a bike. Everybody in the car was silent; other drivers
honked their horns. The little boy skidded his tires and fell down
on the ground. He obviously had tried to brace himself for the
impact. I thought I had hit him, so I jumped out of the truck and ran
to see what happened. Sheila went into super nurse mode. He
wasn’t
 hit,
 but
 he was shaken up a little. When I grabbed and
hugged
 him
 and
 picked
 him
 up,
 I
 wasn’t
 sure
 who
 was
 more
 
afraid—him or me. I held him in my arms. He was maybe only
about five years old, and I wondered where his parents were or
who was watching him ride his bike. This little boy was
outside…by
 himself…alone.
 Then,
 it
 happened
 again.
 As
 I
 hovered
 
over him, somebody tapped me on my shoulder. I looked around to
try
 and
 see
 what
 Sheila
 wanted,
 but
 nobody
 was
 there.
 It
 wasn’t
 
Sheila. The sky was so clear and the sun was so bright. Nobody had
to say anything; I totally understood. Children, no matter how they
are
 conceived,
 are
 a
 gift.
 The
 crowd
 didn’t
 disperse
 for
 some
 time.

A lady from the neighborhood knew the little boy and began to
scold him for not being more careful. I had to defend him. When we

209

got back in the truck, Sheila was driving. Maritsa said,
“Everybody’s
 okay.
 Make
 sure
 you
 settle
 that
 in
 your
 mind.”
 I
 was
 
shaken, there was no doubt, but that little scare solidified a few
things in my mind once and for all. When we got home, I pulled
Maritsa aside and asked her to watch the children for a couple of
hours. She agreed, and Sheila and I got in the car and drove. She
asked,
 “Where
 are
 we
 going,
 baby?”

“Lincoln
 Avenue.”

Then
 she
 asked,
 “How do
 you
 know
 your
 mother
 isn’t
 busy
 or
 
gone?
 Are
 you
 sure
 this
 is
 such
 a
 good
 idea?”

I trusted in every little bit of God that I ever believed in or knew
of
 and
 said,
 “I
 have
 some
 confessions
 to
 make,
 and
 I
 need
 you
 there
 
to be a witness. I know Mama is home. She is there waiting on
Auntie Fay to give her the play-by-play.”
 When
 we
 pulled
 up,
 the
 
front door was open and the screen door was pulled to. I
swallowed a big frog in my throat as Sheila and I walked to the
door. She rang the doorbell. Auntie Fay answered and yelled back
to
 Mama,
 “It’s
 happening,
 Sissy.
 Look!
 He’s
 right
 here
 at
 the
 door!”

Sheila walked in, hugged Auntie Fay and Mama, and sat. Mama
told
 her,
 “Sheila,
 dear,
 there
 is
 some
 of
 that
 kiwi
 apple
 juice
 that
 
you like in the fridge.”

Sheila
 said,
 “It’s
 okay,
 Ma-dear. We had plenty to drink at the
game.”

Mama
 looked
 at
 me
 and
 said,
 “Fay
 said
 it
 was
 a
 good
 game.
 Said
 
Tony’s
 gettin’
 big
 for
 his
 britches.”

I jumped right into my confessions. Skip all the small talk. I said,
“Mama,
 Anthony
 has
 only
 done
 the
 things
 I
 haven’t
 paid
 enough
 
attention
 to,
 to
 correct
 him
 for.
 But
 I
 didn’t
 come
 here
 to
 talk
 about
 
him. I have some confessions to make to you, Auntie Fay, and
Sheila,
 most
 importantly.”
 My
 tears
 started
 to
 roll.
 I
 sniffed to catch
my
 nose
 from
 running.
 “Sheila,
 I
 brought
 you
 here
 and
 please
 don’t
 
think
 I’m
 saying
 these
 things
 before
 Mama
 and
 Auntie
 Fay
 to
 
embarrass you. Vanessa and I had sex on her birthday a few days
ago.
 She
 didn’t
 have
 to
 force
 me,
 and
 I
 could
 have
 left,
 but
 I
 can’t
 
take it anymore. I have to tell you because I refuse to let it go any

210

farther.
 I
 can’t
 let
 her
 take
 me,
 her,
 you,
 or
 any
 of
 us
 any
 farther.
 
Today
 she
 told
 me
 that
 I
 better
 hope
 she
 gets
 her
 period.
 I
 don’t
 
know what that will mean for any of you, but I do know what that
will
 have
 to
 mean
 for
 me,
 if
 she
 is
 pregnant…”

“Patrick.”

“Yes,
 Mama.”

“You
 do
 know
 that
 when
 Satan
 talks
 to
 you,
 you
 can
 say
 no,
 
don’t
 you?”

I just listened.

Sheila
 said,
 “Ma-dear, I knew something had gone on. I know
him.
 He
 has
 a
 woman
 who
 is
 interested
 in
 him.
 She’s
 a
 neighbor.
 Do
 
you
 remember
 what
 we
 talked
 about?
 They’ll
 cut
 him
 up
 and
 try
 to
 
divide
 him
 if
 they
 can.”

I
 didn’t
 want
 for
 things
 to seem like I was deflecting all of the
responsibility to everybody else.

Mama and Auntie Fay looked at each other and Mama teared
up.
 Auntie
 Fay
 said,
 “You
 have
 to
 tell
 him.
 If
 you
 think
 it
 will
 hurt,
 
just think about how much more is going to be damaged for
keeping
 this
 secret.”

I
 asked,
 “What
 secret?”

Auntie
 Fay
 said,
 “Shush,
 Patrick.
 Listen.”

I
 didn’t
 know
 what
 to
 expect.
 Sheila
 looked
 like
 she
 knew
 what
 
was
 going
 on,
 but
 Auntie
 Fay
 gave
 her
 the
 ‘shut
 up’
 look.

Mama
 said,
 “Vanessa enticing you is not about love or even sex,
Patrick.
 It’s
 about
 control.
 Part
 of
 it
 is
 a
 problem
 you
 made,
 but
 I
 
made
 it
 a
 lot
 worse.”

I
 asked,
 “You?
 How
 you…?”

Auntie
 Faye
 said,
 “Shsh,
 Patrick.”

Mama
 continued,
 “Vanessa
 lost
 control over her own emotions,
and she is looking for you to give her that control back. But you

211

don’t
 have
 it,
 and
 you
 didn’t
 take
 it
 from
 her.
 It’s
 something
 that
 
she does not understand that she never really had for herself, so
she never really lost anything. Even if she gets pregnant twenty
more
 times,
 it
 wouldn’t
 do
 anything
 to
 better
 her
 cause,
 and
 as
 
much
 as
 you
 contribute
 to
 it,
 you
 won’t
 do
 anything
 but
 take
 away
 
from your own ability to get yourself together. Trust me, Patrick, I
know.”

I
 didn’t know
 what
 to
 say.
 I
 stumbled,
 “But,
 Mama…”

She
 cut
 me
 off
 and
 stunned
 me
 when
 she
 said,
 “Patrick,
 Melvin
 
wasn’t
 your
 father.
 He
 was
 Manual
 and
 James’s
 father.”

I
 had
 never
 been
 so
 confused
 in
 my
 life.
 I
 asked,
 “How,
 Mama?
 
Why would you say something
 like
 that?
 We
 all
 look
 just
 like
 him.”

“No,
 baby.
 You
 like
 just
 like
 YOUR
 father.”

“Then,
 who’s
 my
 father
 if
 it
 wasn’t
 Melvin?”

“Michael.”

I looked at Sheila. She looked back at me and winked.

Mama
 said,
 “Michael
 Grimes,
 baby.
 Your
 father’s
 name
 is
 
Michael
 Grimes,
 Melvin’s
 older
 brother.
 When
 I
 couldn’t
 have
 
Michael, I settled for his brother, who was a totally different
person.
 Melvin’s
 acting
 crazy
 was
 because
 he
 always
 knew
 that
 I
 
really
 didn’t
 want
 him.
 He
 knew
 that
 I wanted the child I was
carrying
 to
 be
 his
 brother’s
 child,
 but
 he
 didn’t
 know
 that
 you
 
actually
 were.”

“But,
 Mama…I
 mean,
 but
 why,
 uh…if
 you
 wanted
 to
 be
 with
 the
 
brother,
 why
 couldn’t
 you
 be?”

“Because
 he
 was
 married.”

“To
 who?”

“Didn’t
 matter.
 To
 his
 wife
 and
 that’s
 all
 that
 mattered.
 There’s
 
no
 such
 thing
 as
 stealing
 somebody’s
 man.
 You
 can’t
 even
 borrow
 
‘em.
 All
 you
 can
 do
 is
 sacrifice
 so
 many
 precious
 parts
 of
 your
 own
 
self
 trying
 and
 making
 a
 fool
 of
 yourself
 for
 it.
 You
 can’t build trust

212

from deception. Do you even hear how crazy that sounds? So, if
Vanessa gets pregnant, and even if you and Sheila split up, how
would
 Vanessa
 feel
 if
 you
 still
 picked
 somebody
 else
 or
 just
 didn’t
 
pick her? To feel like she has some measure of control, she has to
test you, pull at your heart. What does she do—wait
 til’
 the
 baby’s
 
birthday
 or
 the
 anniversary
 of
 the
 day
 you
 all
 met?
 It’s
 gotta
 be
 
something like that—something
 both
 of
 y’all
 can
 play
 off.”

I knew what my mother was saying, but I never knew she knew
stuff like that. I was surprised.

Sheila
 interjected,
 “Vanessa’s
 birthday.”

Mama
 asked,
 “When—last
 week?
 Wednesday?
 Oh,
 she’s
 slicker
 
than I thought. Okay, Vanessa. But hold on. Sheila, you remember
when Patrick was sick? I said something to her, and she took that
as her fire to show me, and maybe she has really dug her feet in so
deep
 that
 she
 can’t
 see
 past
 that.”

I was super confused. I wanted to know how anybody thought
the two subjects of Vanessa and me messing around and Melvin
supposedly
 not
 being
 my
 father
 were
 related.
 I
 asked,
 “Mama,
 
where are you going with all
 this?”

My
 mother
 looked
 around
 for
 a
 second
 and
 then
 said,
 “I’m
 not
 
sure what happened to Michael. He used to come around now and
then and ask about you after Melvin passed. It was awkward
because he would try to avoid certain questions or topics while
trying to squeeze me for information about you. But, he stopped
asking and stopped coming by. Just kind of fell off the end of the
earth about six months ago. I never kept information on how to be
in
 touch
 with
 him,
 so…”

Sheila interrupted and said,
 “Because
 he
 found
 me.”

Mama
 and
 Auntie
 Fay
 both
 said
 simultaneously,
 “Huh?”

Sheila nodded her head and looked up at the ceiling to
remember.
 She
 explained,
 “He
 looked
 like
 Melvin.
 Knew
 a
 lot
 of
 
information that only people close to you all should know, but it
didn’t
 make
 sense.
 Why
 would
 somebody
 leave
 his
 child
 and
 his
 
would-be wife or significant other for their brother to care for and

213

be
 involved
 with?
 It
 didn’t
 make
 sense
 until
 now.
 I
 didn’t
 believe
 
him. He came back again and again until
 I
 had
 to
 threaten
 him.”

Auntie
 Fay
 said,
 “He’s
 persistent.
 I’m
 surprised
 he
 hasn’t
 been
 
back.”

I
 asked,
 “But,
 baby,
 why…I
 mean,
 why
 wouldn’t
 you—of all
people—Ms. 100% disclosure—tell me that? I can understand that
Mama and I are barely on speaking terms, but why not you? And
Auntie
 Fay…?
 Y’all,
 this
 ain’t
 right.”

Auntie
 Fay
 began
 to
 address
 me
 but
 Mama
 cut
 her
 off.
 “No,
 Fay.
 
Let me tell him. He needs to hear this from me. Patrick, Michael
was married, and like Vanessa, I knew that all along. Your father
was
 ‘the
 catch’
 back
 then,
 but
 I
 wasn’t
 who
 he
 wanted.
 Well,
 no,
 I
 
wasn’t
 who
 he
 felt
 was
 good
 enough
 to
 marry.
 I
 let
 him
 define
 my
 
image of my own womanhood. People do this comparison thing
where
 they
 don’t
 know
 who
 they
 are,
 so
 they
 look for somebody
who is supposed to be gifted or wise in some way, and we use
them
 for
 a
 measuring
 stick.
 I
 didn’t
 go
 into
 the
 deal
 with
 my
 own
 
description
 of
 who
 I
 was
 or
 who
 I
 should’ve
 been,
 so
 I
 let
 what
 
Michael said be the do all and end all of who I was. I ended up
doing
 the
 same
 thing
 to
 Vanessa.
 I
 told
 her
 she
 wasn’t
 worthy
 of
 
being with somebody like you. That concreted in her mind that you
were the person to make the decision of her feminine value, and as
far as she is concerned, somebody like Sheila is only an
inconvenient challenge to overcome. I thought the same thing
about
 Michael’s
 wife.
 Millie
 used
 to
 tell
 me
 to
 stop
 chasing
 folks
 
who,
 when
 I
 turned
 around,
 didn’t
 chase
 me
 back.”

I could hear my Auntie Millie say something like that.

Auntie
 Fay
 said,
 “Sheila,
 the
 day
 you
 compete
 with
 Vanessa,
 you
 
get
 pulled
 into
 the
 mess
 head
 first.”

Sheila
 defended,
 “I
 don’t
 compete
 with
 her,
 Auntie.
 I
 just
 let
 her
 
do her thing. I only say that she has to respect me and my
children…oh,
 and
 my
 house.”

Auntie
 Fay
 said,
 “Sounds
 good,
 don’t
 it,
 Sissy?
 Remember
 that
 
one?
 As
 long
 as
 she
 don’t
 do
 this
 or
 that.
 Know
 what
 you
 just
 did?
 

214

You just laid the terms of the contract down for the fight. All you
need
 now
 is
 for
 somebody
 to
 call
 Don
 King.”

Sheila
 tried
 to
 recover,
 “No,
 Auntie,
 there
 has
 to
 be
 some
 limits.
 
I
 only
 take
 so
 much.”

Auntie
 Fay
 commented,
 “Soooo
 wrong,
 but
 I
 know
 why.
 Your
 
father passed, what—about
 six
 years
 ago?”

“Yes.”

“You
 never
 saw
 your
 mother
 with
 anybody else or knew of any
affairs
 or
 anything
 like
 that,
 did
 you?”

“Nooooo.
 Neither
 of
 my
 parents
 were
 having
 any
 nonsense
 like
 
that.”

Auntie
 Fay
 asked,
 “Who
 did
 your
 mother
 have
 to
 fight
 to
 
establish
 that?”

Sheila
 answered
 sharply,
 “Nobody.
 That
 was
 automatic.”

Mama
 joined
 in,
 “No
 it
 wasn’t.
 It
 was
 something
 that
 was
 built
 
and
 developed
 on
 a
 daily
 basis
 that
 wasn’t
 laid
 on
 your
 back
 like
 a
 
burden,
 but
 also
 wasn’t
 explained
 to
 you
 as
 a
 lesson
 for
 your
 own
 
relationships. Most girls spend time to figure out what ticks their
competition
 off,
 and
 when
 they
 don’t
 get
 enough
 of
 that
 
information, sleeping with your man always works, or so they
think. When I got pregnant with Patrick, I marched right on in the
church with my scarlet letter on my chest and made the biggest
fool of myself. I was talking big and bad, and all Francine said was,
‘If
 you
 need
 help
 with
 that
 child
 or
 any
 other
 that
 you
 may
 have
 out
 
of
 wedlock,
 I’m
 woman
 enough
 to
 give
 it
 to
 you
 without
 
reservation.’
 Messing
 around
 with a man who is or even claims to
be in a relationship with another woman is never a blow to her if
she
 understands
 who
 she
 is.
 I’ve
 never
 enjoyed
 having
 my
 own
 
dedicated man. If I did have somebody and he could not be faithful
to only me, I need to know that as soon as possible so I know that
there are obvious potholes in the road that either need to be fixed,
or
 I
 need
 to
 find
 a
 new
 road
 to
 travel.
 He’s
 my
 son,
 and
 I’ll
 tell
 you
 
this right here with him listening—if
 he’ll
 cheat
 on
 you
 for
 any
 
reason, you need to know that as quickly as possible. And if

215

somebody like Vanessa or anybody else is willing to put up with
that
 and
 take
 him
 off
 your
 hands,
 you’ll
 be
 better
 off,
 and
 the
 
examples
 you
 set
 for
 Makayla
 and
 Brian
 will
 be
 better
 off,
 too.”

I felt very insecure about the insight Mama and Auntie Fay were
giving
 Sheila.
 I
 guess
 I
 didn’t
 know
 what
 to
 make
 of
 it,
 and
 I
 didn’t
 
have a rebuttal for any of it. They must have known how
uncomfortable
 I
 was
 with
 them
 because
 Auntie
 Fay
 said,
 “Get
 that
 
look off your
 face.”

I
 asked,
 “Who?”

“Who?
 You,
 that’s
 who!
 This
 stuff
 won’t
 be
 threatening
 you
 
when
 you
 get
 your
 act
 together.”

I felt like saying, Shit,
 if
 y’all
 keep
 going,
 there
 may
 not
 be
 an
 act
 
for me to get together. Sheila had this strange look on her face. I
had always been content that she would accept certain things and
be demonstrably objectionable to others. I knew what she would
go
 for
 and
 what
 she
 wouldn’t;
 I
 always
 played
 my
 cards
 within
 
those limits, and things rolled right along. Mama and Auntie Fay
were tightening the scope of the limits I had to work with, and I
didn’t
 know
 how
 that
 would
 affect
 my
 marriage.
 Sheila
 was
 too
 
silent
 for
 me.
 I
 asked,
 “So.
 Where
 do
 we
 go
 from
 here,
 Sheila?”

She
 didn’t
 even
 answer
 my
 question.
 She
 immediately
 
addressed
 Auntie
 Fay
 and
 asked,
 “So,
 I’m
 supposed
 to
 let
 her
 wipe
 
her
 feet
 on
 me
 to
 prove
 I’m
 confident?”

Auntie
 Fay
 said,
 “Not
 at
 all.
 You
 set
 a
 standard
 for
 yourself
 and
 
for
 anybody
 who
 you’re
 involved
 with
 and
 you
 don’t
 compromise
 
that.
 Lonely
 and
 alone
 are
 two
 different
 things.
 Honey,
 I’m
 a
 lot
 
older
 than
 you,
 and
 when
 I
 find
 the
 one
 I’m
 looking
 for
 and
 he’s
 
ready
 to
 be
 with
 me,
 I’ll
 be
 soooo
 prepared,
 and
 the
 wait
 will
 be
 
worth it. The longer I take to know myself, the easier I can spot
who
 is
 or
 who
 ain’t
 right
 for
 me.
 Girl,
 now
 I
 can
 sort
 through
 a
 
room full of men like a bag of pinto beans. I used to get
twisted…Lord
 just
 saw
 it
 fit
 to
 not
 catch
 me
 up
 in
 my
 mix.”

Mama interrupted, “Fay
 wasn’t
 hard-headed
 like
 me.”

216

They
 smiled
 at
 each
 other.
 Auntie
 Fay
 said,
 “Yeah,
 but
 she
 
thought she was cute, honey. Walking around in sundresses she
knew
 Mama
 was
 gon’
 kill
 ‘er
 about.
 Child
 even
 went
 and
 got
 her
 a
 
up-style hairdo and some high heels
 at
 seventeen.
 Walkin’
 around
 
the place looking like La-deee-dah. Thought she was Diahann
Carroll
 or
 somebody.
 We
 couldn’t’ve
 told
 her
 nothing
 if
 she
 
would’ve
 learned
 to
 sing.
 Ohhhhh
 honey,
 that
 would’ve
 been
 a
 
mess.”

Sheila
 asked,
 “So
 what
 am
 I supposed
 to
 do
 about
 Vanessa?”

Auntie
 Fay’s
 voice
 went
 to
 a
 high
 pitch
 as
 she
 said,
 “Who
 said
 
you need to do anything? HE needs to do something about himself,
and
 Vanessa
 can
 handle
 her
 own.”

I wrinkled my face in astonishment. Not that the pressure was
on me, but because they were acting like I knew what to do. AND,
we
 never
 finished
 talking
 about
 this
 Michael
 thing.
 I
 asked,
 “So.
 
What’s
 all
 that
 supposed
 to
 mean?
 I
 told
 Vanessa
 today,
 even
 in
 
front of Anthony, that all that was in the past. What else can I do
now
 instead
 of
 waiting
 and
 letting
 my
 actions
 show
 and
 tell?”

Mama
 answered,
 “Oh,
 Tony.
 We
 almost
 forgot.
 We,
 I
 mean
 you,
 
can’t
 let
 him
 sit
 in
 the
 background
 on
 this
 issue
 because
 even
 if
 he
 
loves Sheila, all children want to see their natural parents together.
He
 and
 Vanessa
 might
 innocently
 play
 off
 of
 each
 other’s
 fantasies
 
just because of the unknown. There is too much history between
you and Vanessa, Patrick. Anthony has to see for himself that the
best thing for you and Vanessa, real or imaginary, is to be separate.
See,
 you’re
 not
 there
 at
 her
 house
 to
 see
 her
 ups
 and
 downs
 of
 
being disappointed in relationships, and what Anthony sees in his
mother’s
 eyes
 is
 how
 delighted
 she
 is
 to
 mention
 your
 name.
 You
 
know,
 I
 don’t
 doubt
 at all that she loves him. I know that she will
do
 all
 she
 can
 to
 care
 for
 him,
 even
 if
 you
 couldn’t,
 Patrick.
 But,
 she
 
brings him by, and she has extended the olive branch to me so
many times and in so many ways because regardless of all the
other issues, that
 suits
 her
 purposes.”

I
 must’ve
 sounded
 like
 a
 big
 dummy
 when
 I
 said,
 “Huh?”

Auntie
 Fay
 smacked
 me
 on
 the
 back
 of
 the
 head
 and
 said,
 “Boy,
 
you
 ain’t
 payin’
 attention
 all
 this
 time?
 Vanessa
 has
 to
 come
 with
 

217

something better, not just her over Sheila. The whole picture. She
gotta be good with all the kids, me, Sissy, and whole deal. Know
what?
 She
 ain’t
 gon’
 get
 pregnant.
 She’s
 already
 been
 through
 that
 
part
 with
 you,
 and
 she
 knows
 that
 don’t
 work.”
 Auntie
 Fay
 started
 
thinking and mumbling. Then
 she
 said,
 “Um,
 humh,
 oooohhh,
 
honey
 child,
 I
 feel
 like
 Tony.
 What’s
 that
 he
 said,
 uh….oh,
 yeah,
 she
 
posted
 me
 up.
 Girrrl,
 she’s
 starr-rong. Here I was, thought I had
things
 under
 control
 and
 she
 don’
 brought
 me
 a
 glass
 of
 hot
 horse
 
piss, and I drank it like
 it
 was
 lemonade,
 fresh
 squeezed.”

I
 laughed
 at
 Auntie
 Fay’s
 facial
 expression.
 Sheila
 kind
 of
 
giggled, too.

Auntie Fay stood and applauded Vanessa in her absence. I asked,
“Why
 are
 you
 clapping?”

“
 ‘
 Cause
 your
 girl
 got
 game.
 Sissy,
 you don’
 messed
 and
 stepped
 
back
 in
 it.
 This
 ain’t
 even
 about
 you,
 Patrick.
 This
 is
 about
 YOU,
 
Sissy. You called that girl out, and she walked out of there with her
little baby in her arms, and she is going to show you not only that
she is a woman, but also that
 she
 is
 the
 woman
 you’re
 not.
 Patrick,
 
you
 know
 how
 people
 say
 ‘sins
 of
 the
 father’?
 Well,
 this
 is
 sins
 of
 
the
 mother.”

Mama dropped her head. She knew it, and when I looked at
Sheila, I could see that she and Auntie Fay seemed to be on the
same page about the notions in their minds. Sheila confirmed my
intuition
 when
 she
 said,
 “And
 Vanessa
 will
 kill
 her
 last
 child
 to
 
prove
 it.
 Maybe
 not
 in
 body,
 but
 in
 spirit,
 and
 she
 should’ve
 
protected
 her
 baby
 from
 the
 beginning.
 It
 all
 makes
 sense
 now.”

It
 wasn’t
 all
 making
 sense
 to
 me
 yet.
 I
 asked,
 “Will
 somebody
 
explain
 it
 to
 me,
 then?”

Sheila
 said,
 “She
 wants
 your
 mother
 to
 affirm
 that
 she
 is
 a
 better
 
woman.
 Vanessa
 can’t
 move
 on
 until
 your
 mother
 confesses
 that
 
she was wrong about what she told her in the hospital room. Time
won’t
 cure
 it.
 
 You
 haven’t
 even
 seen
 it,
 and
 it’s
 probably
 so
 second
 
nature
 to
 her
 now
 that
 she
 wouldn’t
 believe
 anybody
 who
 could
 or
 
would tell her that she was wrong. On the surface, every piece of
the puzzle works, whether they are independent or combined. She
should
 support
 all
 of
 Anthony’s
 activities.
 She
 should
 get
 along
 

218

with you. She should be cordial with me. She should come over
here and occasionally look after your mother. She should be
involved with Auntie Fay. Nobody can fault her for doing what she
does,
 and
 it’s
 why
 you—well
 maybe,
 well
 we’ll
 talk
 more
 about
 it
 at
 
home—but probably the reason why you feel so indebted to her
that you have sex with her. She let everybody define what their
expectations of her are or could be, and she has surpassed them.
By
 her
 standards
 or
 even
 ours,
 she
 deserves
 it.”

I
 said,
 “That’s
 what
 she
 said.”

Sheila
 remarked,
 “Yeah,
 I
 don’t
 doubt
 it.
 Everything
 about
 how
 
she acts demonstrates that she feels entitled to you and anything
about
 you.”

I
 asked,
 “So
 now
 what?
 What
 are
 you
 proposing—that
 y’all
 
share me? Look at how stupid that even sounds. What should I
do—cut
 myself
 in
 half?”

Auntie
 Fay
 said,
 “Yes.”

“Huh?”

Sheila
 asked,
 “What?”

“Yes.
 Cut
 him
 in half,”
 Auntie
 Fay
 said
 matter
 of
 factly.

Mama
 knew
 what
 she
 was
 talking
 about,
 but
 I
 didn’t.
 Maybe
 
Sheila
 did,
 but
 I
 knew
 that
 she
 wasn’t
 down
 for
 no
 man
 sharing.
 
Mama
 said,
 “I
 Kings
 3:20-28.
 Cut
 the
 baby
 in
 half.
 You
 can’t
 force
 
people to admit to things
 they’re
 holding
 onto
 dogmatically.
 Right
 
or wrong flew out the window when you shot yourself and I put
the
 blame
 on
 her.”

“But,
 mama,
 I
 never
 said
 that
 was
 Vanessa’s
 fault.”

“I
 know,
 but
 I
 implied
 that
 to
 her,
 and…she
 won’t
 be
 able
 to
 
open
 her
 eyes
 and
 see
 it
 for
 herself
 until
 she
 forgives
 herself.
 That’s
 
what
 we,
 and
 mainly
 I,
 have
 to
 do.”
 While
 she
 was
 talking,
 I
 thought
 
about what Vanessa said about Bev. Damn, I would have to make
sure
 she
 didn’t
 feel
 like
 Bev
 was
 a
 threat
 or
 an
 obstacle either,
because by their estimation, that would make her tighten down
even harder.

219

I thought what Bev had to say was some serious info. I felt
stupid because the knowledge I needed to avoid all of the mess I
was in had been virtually at my disposal for so long, but I was
never wise enough to ask about it. What she said had me feeling
like she had really put me down with some emotionally scientific
shit. Pssshhh. Bev, please. And I had a whole new respect for
Vanessa;
 she
 really
 didn’t
 seem
 so
 crazy
 or
 like
 some
 lifelong
 fatal
 
attraction
 with
 a
 cause
 any
 longer.
 I
 knew
 I
 couldn’t
 disrespect her
or
 underestimate
 her,
 though.
 Then
 there
 was
 Sheila.
 I
 didn’t
 feel
 
like she was so anxious to divorce me or to go through a big blow-
up. The situation kind of went without saying that she would not
condone any infidelity in any way. The part that almost got by me
was that in listening to her, Mama, and Auntie Fay talk about
women’s
 definitions
 of
 their
 own
 womanhood
 and
 self-esteem, I
almost missed the boat in figuring out the fact that I was using
people like Vanessa and/or Bev to define my manhood, and neither
of them could claim to know man or womanhood. I thought the
fellas at the meeting would be interested to hear all that was going
on, but to tell it all, nobody else would get a chance to talk. I
couldn’t
 get
 ahead
 of
 myself,
 though.
 I
 needed to satisfy even the
slightest
 little
 bit
 of
 curiosity
 about
 this
 notion
 that
 Melvin
 wasn’t
 
my father. Not that it would really matter much at that point
because by my opinion, all of the damage had been done. But at
least,
 I
 didn’t
 have
 to
 worry
 about
 if Michael was somebody Sheila
was dealing with—well,
 I
 assumed
 I
 didn’t.

I
 asked,
 “Okay,
 Mama,
 so
 how
 is
 it
 that
 you
 are
 so
 sure
 that
 this
 
guy
 Michael
 is
 my
 father
 but
 Melvin
 was
 Manny
 and
 Buster’s
 
father?”

Mama
 looked
 at
 me
 and
 asked,
 “Honey,
 who’re
 you
 
questioning?”

“Come
 on,
 Mama.
 There
 must
 have
 been
 some
 confusion
 or…”

“Or
 nothing.
 The
 confusion
 was
 that
 I
 couldn’t
 steal
 a
 man
 with
 
sex.
 Period.”

I
 asked,
 “So
 how
 did
 Melvin
 come
 into
 the
 picture?”

Auntie
 Fay
 said,
 “Ain’t nothing
 to
 hide
 now.”

220

Mama
 explained,
 “Melvin
 was
 a
 year
 younger
 than
 Michael,
 and
 
they
 always
 competed.
 When
 Michael
 wasn’t
 making
 the
 moves
 I
 
wanted him to, I tried to make him jealous by messing with his
little
 brother.”

“And?”
 I
 asked.

“And?”
 she
 said.

“Yes,
 and
 what
 else
 happened?”

“He
 let
 me.”

I
 said,
 still
 confused,
 “Ohhhhkaaaaaayyyy?”

“And
 I,
 like
 other
 people,
 got
 so
 used
 to
 it
 that
 after
 a
 while,
 I
 
convinced myself that what we were doing was normal. Melvin
always knew I really wanted to be with somebody else. Some of
him acting stupid was because he started out really wanting to be
with
 me,
 but
 he
 knew
 that
 I
 really
 didn’t
 want
 to
 be
 with
 him.
 Kind
 
of like what would happen if you were with Vanessa and after you
want her, your actions would clearly show that you wanted to be
with
 somebody
 else.
 That’s
 why
 he
 and
 I
 were
 always
 into
 it.
 
Everything
 about
 me
 said
 I
 didn’t
 feel
 like
 he
 was
 the
 man
 that
 his
 
brother was and nothing he did was good enough. The real issue
was and still is to this day that your actions will tell how you really
feel about a person. People get treated like hussies because you
feel
 like
 they’re
 a
 hussy,
 and
 they
 might
 even
 let
 you
 convince
 them
 
that they are. Let me tell you something—I was still messing with
Michael long after I knew he was married. People find all kinds of
ways and reasons to justify doing wrong, but we all know that we
can’t
 plant
 rocks
 and
 grow
 corn.
 That
 goes
 for
 your
 soul
 too,
 
Patrick. MY soul, also. Millie used to be on my and Fay so hard
about
 doing
 things
 we
 were
 going
 to
 regret
 later,
 but
 I
 didn’t
 want
 
to listen. My problems turned into your problems, and by the time
I thought I could halfway get me together, so many other things
had
 already
 been
 set
 in
 motion.”

“So
 why
 didn’t
 you
 just
 tell
 me…or
 tell
 us?”

“Why—so there could be a separation made between the three
of
 y’all?”

221

“Why
 would
 there
 need
 to
 be
 a
 separation
 between
 us?”
 I
 asked.

Auntie
 Faye
 spoke
 up
 to
 address
 Sheila,
 “Sheila,
 you
 didn’t
 tell
him,
 did
 you?”

Sheila
 answered,
 “He
 came
 to
 me
 from
 out
 of
 the
 blue.
 I
 don’t
 
invite
 turmoil
 into
 my
 house…”

I
 interrupted
 them
 and
 asked,
 “Mama,
 you
 stopped
 Anthony
 
from
 saying
 something
 the
 other
 day.
 What
 did
 he
 want
 to
 know?”

Mama
 kind
 of
 scoffed
 and
 said,
 “Tony.
 That
 boy
 is
 a
 real
 piece
 
of
 work.
 Thinks
 he’s
 gonna
 save
 the
 world.”
 She
 bowed
 her
 head
 
and began to cry.

“Nuht
 unh,
 Sissy,”
 Aunt
 Fay
 said.
 “Don’t
 chicken
 out
 now.”
 She
 
started
 to
 sing
 in
 her
 tears,
 “
 ‘When
 I
 wake
 up in the morning light,
and
 the
 sunlight
 hits
 my
 eyes…it’s
 a
 lovely
 day.’
 Remember,
 Millie
 
said
 Mama
 always
 used
 to
 tell
 her
 that
 if
 we
 don’t
 look
 for
 the
 
truth,
 it’ll
 look
 for
 us…”

Mama lifted her head slightly and barely squeaked out of her
mouth,
 “Can
 we
 do
 this
 later?”

Auntie
 Fay
 said,
 “Remember
 that
 time
 the
 man
 sold
 you
 them
 
bracelets? Genuine gold-plated; made that big ole green ring on
your
 arm
 that
 took
 us
 a
 week
 to
 scrub
 off.
 The
 Lord
 won’t
 put
 
nothing
 on
 you
 that
 you
 can’t
 handle.”

Mama
 said,
 “Well,
 I
 guess
 He
 must
 think
 the
 world
 of
 me.”

Auntie
 Fay
 got
 tough
 on
 her
 and
 said,
 “Yeah,
 to
 whom
 much
 is
 
given,
 much
 is
 required.
 Tell
 ‘em.”

Mama
 sucked
 her
 tears
 up
 and
 said,
 “I
 told
 him
 that
 if
 or
 when
 
you confess your sins out of your mouth and accept God as your
own
 Savior
 then
 redemption
 is
 always
 available.”

“For
 you
 too,
 Sissy,”
 Auntie
 Fay
 said.
 “Stop
 being
 holed
 up
 in
 this
 
house. God will understand you being somewhere besides work or
the
 church.”

222

Sheila
 asked,
 “Ma-dear, you know Anthony would love to see you
at
 a
 baseball
 game?”

She
 asked,
 “Think
 so?”
I
 couldn’t
 hold
 it
 in.
 I
 said,
 “I
 know
 I
 always
 would’ve.”
For the first time in a long time, my mother reached over to give
me a hug. Sheila had always been an angel to me. My grandmother
passed before I was two years old. I had an explanation why I
never knew my maternal grandparents. That hug from my mother
made all the difference in the world of how I saw myself and the
world.
 I
 didn’t
 know
 how
 to
 articulate
 it
 at
 the
 time,
 but
 Mama’s
 
hug felt as though my soul was being given back to me. I sat there
in
 tears,
 in
 my
 mother’s
 arms,
 feeling
 like
 the
 little
 boy
 who I never
felt like I ever was before. Hopefully, Mama also felt like she had
succeeded.
 I
 discovered
 that
 she
 had
 been
 told
 through
 people’s
 
words
 and
 actions
 that
 nobody
 wanted
 her
 or
 that
 she
 didn’t
 
matter, and the only place she ever found value was at the church. I
hadn’t
 made
 the
 efforts
 to
 show
 her
 that
 she
 had
 always
 been
 
somebody to us as well. Everybody needs to feel wanted and
everybody deserves to feel loved. I never felt so close to Vanessa,
whether I had caused the issue or promoted it. But one way or the
other, I was responsible to do what I could to help her be better
just as she had helped me.

223

Chapter 18

I
 was
 fully
 drained
 of
 all
 emotional
 energy
 at
 Mama’s
 house.
 
Sunday morning was too raw on my nerves to go to church like I
thought I wanted to. Anthony was all over me to tell him what
happened,
 but
 I
 didn’t
 know
 if
 I
 could
 be
 trusted
 to
 give
 a
 full
 
depiction of what went on. I remembered what was said, and I
understood
 how
 all
 the
 pieces
 fit
 together,
 but
 I
 didn’t
 know
 that
 I
 
would be able to explain it all to him and do so in a way that I could
satisfy the full ambit of his curiosity. I kind of chickened out and
took
 the
 easy
 way
 out;
 I
 decided
 to
 take
 him
 by
 Mama’s
 after
 she
 
got out of church. When we got to her house, she strangely wasn’t
 
there. We waited for her to come for more than an hour, but she
didn’t
 show
 up.
 I
 was
 hungry,
 and
 Anthony
 had
 a
 hungry
 look
 on
 
his face, too, so we decided to swing by the rib shack.

He and I were making complete countrified fools of ourselves
eating ribs, potato salad, and baked beans. He wanted sweet potato
pie, so we wobbled out of the truck to go stand back in line to get it.
I got a surprise when somebody grabbed Anthony from behind,
gave
 him
 a
 knuckle
 rub
 on
 his
 head,
 and
 asked,
 “Ay,
 lil’
 dude,
 
whatchu
 doin’
 over
 here
 while
 yo’
 Grandmama
 ain’t
 home?”

When I turned to look and see who it was, my eyes almost fell
out
 of
 my
 head.
 Sick
 said,
 “Ay,
 O.G.
 Bingo…hey
 this
 is
 your
 lil’
 dude?
 
You
 didn’t
 say
 your
 son
 was
 Mac-a-Roni
 Tony.”
 Sick
 leaned close to
me
 and
 spoke
 under
 his
 breath
 and
 said,
 “You
 ain’t
 worried
 about
 
people
 gettin’
 at
 this
 lil’
 dude
 is
 you?
 A
 nigga
 would
 have
 to
 be
 a
 
fool to try some shit like that. O.G. Tat and A-Plus called the hands
off
 on
 him
 waaaay
 back.”

I looked at Anthony to see if he heard that; he did. The look on
his
 face
 said
 it.
 He
 said,
 “I’m
 okay
 no
 matter
 what,
 Dad.”

My insecurities were eating a hole in my confidence. Sick smiled
and tried to reassure me that things were okay; I leapt out on faith
and
 tried
 to
 play
 it
 off
 by
 asking,
 “Hey,
 where’s
 Bizzie
 and
 Fats?”

“Aww,
 they’re
 probably
 over
 at
 the
 cages
 shooting
 some
 hoops.
 
Sunday afternoon is all the time we got to hang out nowadays.
Brothers
 tryin’
 to
 get
 square
 and
 make
 ends
 meet
 ‘stead
 of
 meetin’
 
the
 end.”

224

Hearing that brought back to mind what Mr. Washington and I
talked
 about.
 I
 said,
 “Sick,
 round
 me
 up
 a
 bunch
 of
 smart
 head
 
busters, you hear me? Smart head busters. Tell everybody to meet
me at the cages in an hour. See if you can
 find
 Tat.”
 He
 looked
 at
 me
 
suspiciously.
 I
 said,
 “It’s
 cool.
 I
 got
 a
 new
 way
 for
 bros
 to
 come
 up,
 
legally.”

Anthony
 didn’t
 know
 what
 was
 going
 on,
 and
 I
 only
 had
 a
 vague
 
idea of what I was trying to accomplish, so I was going to play it by
heart because
 it
 hadn’t
 let
 me
 down
 yet.
 After
 a
 long
 period
 of
 
silence
 and
 listening
 to
 some
 music,
 Anthony
 asked,
 “Daddy,
 how
 
long were you going to try to keep me from knowing things that I
can
 hear
 on
 the
 streets
 every
 day?”

I
 faced
 him
 as
 I
 said,
 “Son,
 forget what I told you and all the
things your mother or Aunt Florence said. What do people around
here
 say
 about
 me?”

He
 sighed
 and
 said,
 “That’s
 a
 lot
 of
 stuff,
 Daddy.”

“Do
 you
 ever
 feel
 threatened?”

“Nope.”

“Anybody
 look
 at
 you
 funny?
 I
 mean,
 anybody?”

“Nope.”

“Anybody
 ever
 ask
 you
 about
 me?”

“All
 the
 time.”

“What
 about?”

“Everything.
 How
 you’re
 doing.
 When’s
 the
 last
 time
 you
 been
 
to
 Grandma’s.
 Miss
 Perkins
 always
 asks
 when
 you’re
 coming
 to
 
church…stuff
 like
 that.”

“Nothing
 else?”

He
 really
 surprised
 me
 when
 he
 said,
 “Daddy,
 how
 many
 times
 
and in different ways do you need to hear people tell you that they
ain’t
 mad?
 Mom’s
 not
 really
 mad
 at
 you.
 Uncle
 Dodo…uh
 Uncle
 

225

Phillip…doesn’t
 say
 bad
 things
 about
 you.
 Even
 Grandma
 only
 acts
mad at you because she wants you to come to church and stop
feeling
 bad.
 Know
 what?”

“What?”
 I
 asked.

“I
 knew
 about
 the
 scar
 before
 you
 told
 me.
 Way
 before.
 I
 just
 
wanted
 to
 hear
 it
 from
 you.”

“I
 think
 there
 are
 a
 lot
 of
 things
 a
 lot
 of people need to hear
from
 me.”

At the cages, everybody was there. I stepped in and Tat was
first
 to
 greet
 me.
 He
 said,
 “Look
 over
 there.”
 He
 pointed
 down
 to
 
the corner of the court where a bloodstain used to be. He knew
what he was talking about and
 so
 did
 I.
 He
 said,
 “That
 stuff
 only
 
remains in our minds. This is as much your neighborhood as
anybody
 else’s,
 whether
 you
 still
 live
 here
 or
 not.
 The
 things
 you
 
do affects us, like the things we do affects you. do your thang, boy.
A lot of us been waitin’
 on
 you.”

I hugged, kissed, shook hands, and greeted everybody. I was
nervous as hell, but they all received me as O.G. Bingo. I was always
nervous about being referred to as simply Bingo. My life and my
history were not so much past as I wished for it to be. Tat and I
talked between ourselves about what I wanted and why I had
asked for everybody to be there. He hiccoughed and was choked up
when
 I
 told
 him
 what
 happened
 at
 the
 job.
 He
 said,
 “Whoa,
 did
 you
 
say
 29
 million
 dollars?
 Man,
 don’t
 be
 bullshittin’me,
 Bingo,
 dawg.
 
Nigga,
 you
 tellin’
 me
 somebody
 put
 a
 lick
 down
 that
 tough,
 and
 I
 
didn’t
 know
 about
 it?
 Cain’t
 be.
 Nope.
 Jus’
 didn’t
 happen.
 Nawl,
 
Dawg.
 You
 cain’t
 get
 from
 Washington
 Trucking
 to
 the
 highway
 or
 
the freeway on the west side without coming through here. The
back of the compound cut off the east and the north. The esés in
the
 south
 woulda
 told
 me
 something.
 It’s
 more
 pieces
 to
 that
 
puzzle
 than
 you
 got.”

He
 teared
 up.
 I
 asked
 him,
 “What’s
 wrong,
 Dawg?”

He wiped his tears and said,
 “Boah,
 let
 me
 find
 the
 motherfucka
 
who
 moved
 2900
 dollars’
 worth
 of
 loot
 through
 the
 ward
 and
 I
 
don’t
 know
 about
 it.
 You
 said
 million,
 twenty
 million.
 With
 twenty-

226

nine
 million
 dollars’
 worth
 of
 cell
 phones
 and
 shit,
 I
 could
 call
 the
 
gotdamn moon, nigga.
 They
 got
 shit
 that
 don’t
 cost
 that
 much
 in
 
the
 trunk
 of
 the
 space
 shuttle.”

I was listening to Tat, and what he said really made me think
about what Mr. Washington said about it being an inside job. I still
didn’t
 put
 it
 past
 anyone
 to
 have
 rewritten the paperwork or
deleted files to make it seem like all of the merchandise had been
taken at once, when it had truly been taken over a period of time.
But then, the computerized files would have to be justified and the
railroad and trucking records would…yeah,
 to
 get
 that
 off,
 it
 was
 
definitely an inside job. When Tat calmed down, he asked the same
question
 Vanessa
 wanted
 to
 know,
 “Say,
 Bingo,
 keep
 it
 real
 with
 
me,
 patnah.
 What’s
 the
 count
 on
 MY
 take
 on
 all
 this?
 One
 solid
 lick
 
on the up and up could set me out there, and I could stop worrying
about
 a
 lot
 of
 shit,
 dawg.
 ‘T’s
 a
 lot
 of
 bros
 trying
 to
 come
 up
 on
 the
 
clean, and just something like five large could kick some shit off for
a
 lot
 of
 cats.”

I
 thought
 about
 it,
 but
 I
 hadn’t
 discussed
 all
 of
 that
 with Mr.
Washington. Maybe Nessa was right—that I needed to talk
numbers
 before
 I
 started
 out.
 But
 then,
 I
 rethought
 it.
 I
 said,
 “Tat,
 
instead of one big lick that could be burned up all at once, what
about
 stability
 over
 a
 long
 period
 of
 time?
 What
 about…?”

“What
 about
 what?
 Eating?
 Having
 a
 place
 to
 live?
 Putting
 
clothes
 on
 your
 shorty’s
 back?
 I
 don’t
 have
 to
 tell
 you
 that
 niggas
 
ain’t
 laying
 around
 in
 the
 cut…well,
 I
 mean
 most.
 But
 still,
 for
 the
 
most part, niggas just want to live and see their kids come up right.
It
 ain’t
 till
 folks
 get
 convinced
 that
 they
 got
 to
 crime
 to
 make
 it,
 that
 
they
 do
 and
 teach
 their
 kids
 that.
 That’s
 like
 getting
 married
 and
 all
 
that. You know, I finally got my shit on straight and me and Kiana
went on down to the courthouse.”

I
 was
 excited
 to
 hear
 that.
 I
 lit
 up
 and
 asked,
 “You
 got
 married,
 
dawg?
 It’s
 nice,
 ain’t
 it?”

He
 shushed
 me
 and
 said,
 “Yeah,
 nigga,
 it’s
 nice.
 But
 you
 ain’t
 
working at K-Mart announcing the damn blue light special so lower
your
 fuckin’
 voice
 some.”

227

I
 didn’t
 know
 what
 he
 felt
 like
 was
 so
 top
 secret
 until
 he
 added,
 
“I
 ain’t
 the
 only
 one
 who
 got
 more
 than
 one
 or
 two
 kids
 with
 more
 
than
 two
 or
 three
 babies’
 mamas.
 When
 the
 white
 man
 get
 
involved in your mix talking about child support, that shit be on
your
 back
 for
 twenty
 fucking
 years
 and
 that’s
 only
 if
 you
 got
 one
 
kid.
 Don’t
 forget,
 making
 money
 on
 paper
 might
 not
 be
 the
 best
 
thing
 for
 everybody.”

I thought about that and realized it was something I never had
to worry about. There was so much to consider. It really would
have been easier to know that some thieves had stolen the stuff,
and I just needed to round up some cats to get it back. I was
literally
 and
 figuratively
 scratching
 my
 chin
 when
 I
 asked,
 “Ay,
 Tat,
 
why did you send Sick
 and
 Bizzle
 and
 Lil’
 Fats
 to
 the
 Man
 of
 the
 
House
 meetings?
 I
 mean,
 why
 them
 and
 not
 others?”

“Everything
 ain’t
 for
 everybody.
 They
 got
 sense.
 They
 can
 get
 
something from it, and they come back telling people about it. I
know what you had to say; everybody heard about it. But, they can
only do what they can do, and you can only do what you can do. I
cain’t
 do
 a
 damn
 thing
 til’
 you
 tell
 me
 how
 to
 go
 find
 this
 loot-chie.”

I resolved it by asking him to get the best twenty-five cats he
could find to be ready to meet me at work the next day.

He
 asked,
 “Okay,
 but
 what’s
 the
 plan?”
“I
 don’t
 know
 yet.”
“You
 don’t
 know?
 You
 made
 a
 O.G.
 call
 to
 get
 everybody
 here
 to
 
show us the keys to life and then you tell us you left them in the
pocket
 of
 your
 other
 pants?”
“I
 gotta
 finish
 thinking
 this
 whole
 thing
 out.”
“Yeah,
 I
 think
 you
 do,”
 he
 said.

228

I
 was
 feeling
 very
 sporty
 on
 Tuesday
 afternoon.
 I
 didn’t
 know
 
what
 Bev
 had
 planned
 for
 me.
 I
 hadn’t
 spoken
 to
 her
 since
 the
 
baseball
 game,
 and
 I
 definitely
 didn’t
 want
 her
 to
 think
 I
 had
 set
 
her up, so I was very curious to see what she thought about the
whole adventure.

Sheila
 is
 my
 baby.
 After
 coming
 from
 Mama’s
 house
 on
 Sunday,
 I
 
felt like she had deciphered the whole female behavior code.
Tuesday was like Election Day for me, and she was my campaign
manager. she walked in the door and called out to me. I had
planned to go pick Anthony up from the batting cages and do a few
things before I left, but she insisted not. I said,
 “You’re
 gonna
 have
 
to
 pick
 up
 Anthony.
 You
 know
 that,
 don’t
 you?”

She
 said,
 “No.
 Vanessa
 is
 going
 to
 pick
 Anthony
 up
 and
 bring
 
him
 here.”

Vanessa
 hadn’t
 made
 it
 a
 habit
 of
 being
 at
 our
 house,
 so
 I
 didn’t
 
know if that was such a good idea. She is
 one
 of
 those
 ‘quick
 to
 
neck
 roll
 and
 snap
 a
 finger
 in
 your
 face’
 type-sisters, and she would
be
 defensive
 sitting
 in
 our
 house
 with
 Sheila.
 I
 didn’t
 know
 what
 
Sheila had in mind, but I was only worried a little bit. I trusted her,
and I felt like she was more than capable of handling herself
diplomatically, but Vanessa might resort to a guerilla tactic if she
felt
 threatened.
 I
 asked
 Sheila,
 “So,
 what’s
 going
 on,
 or
 shall
 I
 say,
 
what
 is
 GOING
 to
 go
 on?”

“Nothing
 that
 won’t
 happen
 for
 you
 and
 Ms.
 Bishop
 Jakes
 
tonight.”

I
 didn’t
 know
 how
 to
 take
 that.
 She
 gave
 me
 a
 new
 look
 out
 of
 
her
 arsenal.
 I
 smirked
 and
 asked,
 “What
 is
 that
 look
 supposed
 to
 
mean?”

She
 said,
 “It
 means,
 take
 care
 of
 your business,
 Sir.
 I’ll
 take
 care
 
of
 mine
 and
 meet
 back
 with
 you
 here
 at
 the
 bat
 cave,
 Robin.”

I
 laughed
 and
 asked,
 “Who
 said
 you’re
 Batman?”

“I’m
 not.
 I’m
 Batwoman,
 Robin.
 And
 it’s
 time
 to
 clean
 my
 cave.
 
Now, get your dusty little but upstairs and shower. I set your

229

clothes
 out
 and
 you
 have
 new
 cologne
 on
 the
 dresser.
 I’ll
 have
 your
 
dinner
 warm
 when
 you
 get
 back.
 Go.
 Move,
 scoot,
 hurry
 up,
 boy.”

I was flabbergasted, but I kind of liked being bossed around. It
was sort of like a lightweight dominatrix feeling energy in the
room. Brian and Makayla were with Maritsa. I wondered if I could
get a little before they got there, but just as I had the thought,
damn. I heard all three garage doors roll up. Sheila knew what was
on my mind and she said, “Get
 your
 mind
 out
 of
 the
 gutter.
 We’ll
 
take
 care
 of
 that
 later.”

I
 responded,
 “You
 couldn’t
 know
 if
 my
 mind
 was
 in
 the
 gutter
 if
 
yours
 wasn’t
 somewhere
 nearby.”

She turned to go help Maritsa get the kids and all of their gear in
the house, but just before she got to the door, she twisted her neck,
cut
 her
 eyes,
 and
 said,
 “Get
 upstairs
 and
 strip.
 Turn
 on
 the
 shower
 
and
 I’ll
 be
 there
 in
 a
 second.
 Now
 go.”

Whooo-wee, I skipped off like a little boy on my first day to
school. I doubled each step and made it up the whole flight in just
seven steps. I walked into our bedroom to see that she had bought
me a new outfit and had it all lightly pressed and set out. It was a
new look for me—real yuppie looking. I had never seen a pair of
steel gray Dockers, and the shirt looked like something Tiger
Woods might wear. I sniffed the cologne, and it smelled very
mature and spicy. It was kind of light and clean, but smoky. The
bottle looked good enough that I would have bought it even if it
smelled like Windex.

I guess I was up there wasting time because Sheila burst in the
door
 and
 startled
 me.
 “I
 thought
 I
 told
 you
 to
 get
 naked
 and
 get
 
that
 shower
 going,”
 she
 said.

I
 turned
 and
 asked,
 “Huh?”

“Huh?
 You
 heard
 what
 I
 told
 you
 downstairs.
 Getcha ass outta
them
 clothes.
 You
 owe
 me
 something.”
 She
 stood
 over
 me
 while
 I
 
took my clothes off.

“What
 are
 you
 planning
 on
 doing,
 still
 dressed?”
 I
 asked.

230

She walked over to the bed, picked the clothes up, and laid them
on the dresser. She told me to close my eyes and count to ten. I did
and
 then
 asked,
 “Can
 I
 open
 them
 now?”

She
 said,
 “You
 better,
 because
 you’re
 wasting
 valuable
 time.
 I
 
need to get something you owe me and get back downstairs to
start
 dinner.”

I opened my eyes to see her butt naked with her hands on the
bed and her feet spread apart. I walked up to her and bet over to
kiss the soft, fluffy roundness of her ass as I palmed it. She said,
“Foreplay
 is
 for
 when
 we
 have
 more
 time,
 Eric.
 Handle
 your
 
business…no,
 handle
 my
 business.”

Handle it, I did. I pulled up behind her to touch and feel how
soft and wet she was. When I penetrated, it felt soooo damned
good. I threw my head back and slowly but strongly thrust in deep.
She rotated her hips back toward me and pushed her weight into
me.
 After
 that,
 I
 slipped
 into
 a
 spiritual
 fog,
 and
 my
 feet
 didn’t
 
touch back down until I felt her tapping and pushing on the front of
my thighs. I had never felt a buzz or a rush like that. Then when
she stood to face me and kissed me, I melted. She twisted me
around so that my back was facing the bed. Then she pushed me
back and climbed atop me just as my back hit the bed. She
straddled me and attacked me like a hungry lioness. She kissed and
sucked my neck and it felt so good. I was paralyzed, and she put it
on me. OOOOHHH! Right before she got up, she reached down and
scratched
 me
 deeply
 on
 my
 chest.
 It
 hurt
 and
 it
 bled.
 I
 asked,
 “Ow,
 
Sheila,
 baby,
 why
 did
 you
 do
 that?”

She put her index finger over my lips to shut me up and said
softly,
 “That
 is
 the
 last
 time
 any
 woman
 other
 than
 me
 will
 ever
 put
 
a
 mark
 or
 a
 finger
 on
 your
 body.
 Understand
 that?”

I just looked at her in wonder. She repeated herself and asked
me
 again,
 “Do
 you
 understand
 me,
 Eric?
 This
 is
 not
 a
 question
 of
 
sex. I demand to have a commitment of total dedication of all of
your life resources to ensure that we accomplish all of our dreams
and goals. I will support you in anything you ask of me that does
not jeopardize our success. If you feel like you owe Vanessa
assistance
 to
 recover
 from
 things,
 that’s
 fine,
 but
 we
 together
 will
 

231

work to achieve that so it happens efficiently and quickly and so
we
 can
 get
 it
 done
 and
 move
 on.”

I
 couldn’t
 say
 anything;
 she
 was
 right.
 I
 couldn’t
 even
 find
 what
 
I felt were the proper words that would effectively demonstrate
that
 I
 agreed.
 Okay?
 No,
 that
 wouldn’t
 do.
 She
 spoke
 up
 and
 said,
 
“You
 don’t
 have
 to
 say
 anything.
 Let
 your
 actions
 speak,
 like
 mine
 
will.”

I just kissed her and she kissed me back. She pulled me up to my
feet and pushed me to the shower. I got in. she turned the water
on,
 and
 the
 steam
 fogged
 the
 glass
 so
 I
 couldn’t
 see
 out.
 I
 could
 
hear her getting washed up, and before she left back out, she
shouted,
 “Eric,
 you
 are
 late!
 You’re
 going
 to
 have
 to
 hurry!”

I came out of the shower; the bed was stripped and made again,
and my clothes were back lying where they were when I originally
got to the bedroom. I got dressed and ready and went downstairs.
Everybody was in the kitchen, and Sheila was cooking. Makayla
was at the table coloring, and Brian was down on the floor with his
favorite toy car. I walked behind Sheila and kissed her on the neck.
She
 must’ve
 felt
 me
 coming
 because
 just
 as
 I
 stepped
 close
 to
 her,
 
she leaned her head to receive my kiss. Maritsa complimented me,
“Hey,
 Mijo,
 you’re
 looking
 good
 lately.
 Almost
 like
 you
 got
 a
 new
 
skin.”

I
 told
 her,
 “Yeah,
 I
 feel
 like
 a
 caterpillar
 coming
 out
 of
 the
 
cocoon
 to
 be
 a
 new
 butterfly.”

Makayla stood on her knees in the chair and turned to tell me,
“Ooh,
 look,
 Daddy.
 I
 made
 a
 butterfly.”
 She
 was
 coloring
 butterflies
 
in
 her
 coloring
 book.
 How
 coincidental.
 I
 kissed
 her
 and
 said,
 “Yes,
 
baby,
 that’s
 pretty.”

I
 turned
 to
 call,
 “Brian,
 give
 Daddy
 a
 hug.”
 He
 dropped
 the
 car
 
and quickly toddled over to me with outstretched arms to give me
a hug with a big smile on his face. I pulled his shirt up and blew
bubbles. He laughed. I did it again, and he laughed harder. I did it a
third
 time
 and
 he
 couldn’t
 stop
 laughing.
 I
 wouldn’t
 ever
 have
 to
 
have it defined for me in any other way that my life was complete.

232

I was getting ready to head out and try to cover on the highway
the ten minutes I had lost when the front door opened. Anthony
walked in and greeted me. I hugged him, just as Vanessa walked in
behind
 him.
 She
 looked
 nervous.
 I
 greeted
 her,
 “Hey,
 Nessa.”

She
 looked
 around
 and
 was
 suspicious.
 I
 said,
 “I’m
 gone.
 I’ll
 see
 
you
 in
 the
 morning,
 Anthony.”

He
 said,
 “I
 might
 stay
 up
 and
 wait
 for
 you,
 Daddy.”

“Okay,
 well,
 I’ll
 see
 you
 then,
 then.”

“See
 ya,”
 he
 said.

I leaned to kiss Nessa on the cheek. That surprised her. Sheila
had
 walked
 into
 the
 room.
 She
 greeted,
 “Hi,
 Vanessa.
 Come
 on
 in.
 
Anthony,
 are
 you
 hungry?”

As I walked out, I said,
 “Baby,
 I’ll
 call
 and
 let
 you
 know
 when
 I
 
leave
 the
 school
 so
 you
 don’t
 worry.”
 I
 closed
 the
 door
 behind
 me
 
and wondered what would go on after I was gone.

I got into my truck and I could smell myself. The new cologne
smelled good, and the scent quickly covered the air in the truck. I
pulled
 up
 in
 front
 of
 Bev’s
 house,
 and
 I
 could
 see
 lights
 being
 
turned off like she was waiting. I sat there in her driveway and
listened to the music. She ducked her head out of the door and
waved me to come in. we were already running late, and I would
only make it to the meeting after they had introduced everybody,
so
 I
 was
 anxious
 to
 get
 going.
 Plus,
 I
 didn’t
 want
 her
 to
 try
 to
 pull
 
any trickery and be in there naked or something like that. But then,
I thought about it. Maybe if she did pull a trick like that, I could let
it be defining and settle some of what could be confusion, so I
turned the truck off and hurried to the front door. I knocked. She
yelled,
 “Come
 in!”

I
 walked
 in
 and
 she
 said,
 “Eric,
 come
 back here. My hair is
caught
 in
 the
 zipper.”
 When
 I
 got
 into
 her
 bedroom,
 her
 hair
 was
 
caught in the zipper on her dress. Several questions ran through
my
 mind.
 First,
 why
 wasn’t
 she
 ready?
 Second,
 why
 wasn’t
 she
 
ready? Third, to get her hair out of the zipper, would she want me
to help her out of the dress? I tried to get the hair out, but it was

233

surely stuck. I asked her if she wanted me to cut her hair. She said
she wished there was another way to get the hair out without
cutting a big plug of it out of the back and middle of her head.

I looked around to see her gym bag packed, and I guessed she
was
 planning
 on
 changing
 at
 the
 gym.
 I
 didn’t
 know,
 but
 I
 knew
 not
 
to
 lend
 myself
 to
 opening
 any
 Pandora’s
 boxes.
 But
 then,
 I
 couldn’t
 
resist.
 I
 asked,
 “Bev,
 you’re
 not
 trying
 to
 seduce
 me
 or
 anything,
 are
 
you?”

She
 craned
 her
 neck,
 looked
 me
 in
 my
 eyes,
 and
 said,
 “Eric,
 I
 
have
 told
 you
 that
 when
 I
 come
 to
 you,
 I
 won’t
 have
 to
 hint
 or
 joke
 
around. If I want you that bad, I could be in here naked and you’d
 
just
 have
 to
 turn
 me
 down.”

I
 looked
 at
 her
 and
 said,
 “You
 act
 like
 I
 can’t
 turn
 you
 down.”

“You
 can’t.”

“Is
 that
 right?”
 I
 asked.

“Yes,
 it
 is.”

I
 decided
 to
 try
 her
 ass.
 I
 said,
 “Hold
 still.”
 I
 pulled
 the
 hairs
 
from the teeth in the zipper one by one until enough of them were
free, and then I could unzip the dress. I pulled the zipper all the
way down to her waist, opened it, unsnapped her bra, and said,
“Get
 out
 of
 these
 clothes.
 I’m
 tired
 of
 fuckin’
 ‘round
 with
 you.
 if
 dick
down
 your
 throat
 is
 what
 you
 want,
 that’s
 what
 you’re
 getting
 
ready
 to
 get.”

She turned around to look me in my eyes and stepped out of
her dress. She covered her chest with folded arms. I pulled her
hands and arms down to expose her bare titties. They were
luscious, but I was under control. She was nearly naked in her
bikini panties and shoes, and staring into my eyes. I looked back at
her;
 I
 didn’t
 blink.
 I
 pulled
 at
 the
 sides
 of
 her
 panties
 to
 pull
 them
 
down,
 and
 she
 let
 me.
 I
 really
 wasn’t
 going to pull them down or all
the
 way
 off,
 but
 she
 let
 me,
 and
 I
 kept
 on
 since
 she
 didn’t
 stop
 me.
 
She stepped out of them and kicked her shoes off. That confused
me
 to
 the
 point
 where
 I
 was
 barely
 horny.
 She
 wasn’t
 speaking,
 but
 

234

she had a strange look on her
 face.
 I
 didn’t
 touch
 her.
 Instead,
 I
 
asked,
 “Bev,
 is
 this
 what
 you
 want?”

She
 didn’t
 cry,
 but
 I
 felt
 like
 tears
 were
 being
 barely
 held
 back
 on
 
the other side of her eyes. She looked brave, kind of like a person
who had been desensitized to having guns drawn on them. The
silence
 was
 awkward.
 Then
 she
 broke
 the
 silence
 by
 saying,
 “This
 
is
 not
 what
 I
 want.
 It
 could
 be
 a
 product
 of
 what
 I
 want.”

“So
 why…why
 would
 you
 put
 the
 cart
 before
 the
 horse
 before
 
you know if there was even anywhere for the whole carriage to
go?”

“Eric,
 if
 this
 is
 how
 I
 get
 what
 I
 want…”

“It’s
 not.
 Bev,
 you
 are
 a
 beautiful
 woman.”

She
 cut
 me
 off
 and
 said,
 “Beauty
 is
 lonelier
 than
 you
 know.”

“But
 what
 happened
 to
 all
 that
 speech
 about
 being
 the
 best
 and
 
all that?”

She stepped closely into my intimate space, and I had to step
back
 to
 keep
 the
 separation
 between
 us.
 She
 asked,
 “Do
 you
 think
 
we’ll
 ever
 be
 real
 friends
 after
 this?”

I
 hadn’t
 forgotten
 my
 question.
 I
 didn’t
 let
 her
 avoid
 answering
 
my question,
 so
 I
 asked
 her
 again,
 “Bev,
 what
 happened
 to
 being
 
the
 best
 woman
 and
 all
 that?”

She
 said,
 “I’ll
 answer
 the
 question,
 but
 you
 tell
 me
 if
 we
 can
 be
 
friends.”

“Bev,
 really,
 we
 weren’t
 friends.
 We
 were
 acquainted
 and
 
familiar.
 Sex
 won’t
 make
 us
 friends.”
 I
 felt
 like
 I
 was
 at
 a
 car
 lot.
 I
 
had this strange feeling that she was trying to do me like the
salesmen at the General Motors dealership. The guy insisted that I
take a test drive. He let me open the Corvette wide up on the
highway and blast the stereo. When we got back, he told me about
all the benefits of being a Corvette owner and hyped everything up.
Then at the end, he told me that he could convince the sales
manager
 to
 lower
 the
 price.
 I
 didn’t
 want
 Bev
 to
 reduce
 herself
 to
 
lowering her
 price.
 The
 salesman
 was
 deflated
 when
 I
 didn’t
 buy
 

235

the
 car.
 I
 should
 never
 have
 been
 there.
 I
 had
 a
 family,
 and
 I
 didn’t
 
have the additional income to buy the car. Everything about that
car would have brought me more pain than joy, and it had nothing
to do with its quality.

I looked Bev in her eyes, stepped into her intimate space, and
said,
 “Bev,
 this
 will
 be
 the
 beginning
 of
 our
 friendship.
 You
 said
 you
 
understand
 love.
 You’ve
 taught
 me
 a
 lot.”
 She
 reached
 up
 to
 hug
 
and
 kiss
 me.
 It
 wasn’t
 a
 sexual
 moment;
 it
 was
 a
 sensual moment.
The kiss was short but intense. When she withdrew from the kiss,
that tear that had been held back escaped when she closed her
eyes
 and
 said,
 “Don’t
 leave
 me,
 J.”

I
 knew
 I
 couldn’t
 be
 what
 she
 wanted
 me
 to
 be
 before.
 After
 
hearing that comment
 escape
 from
 her
 lips,
 I
 knew
 I
 couldn’t
 be
 
the
 replacement
 for
 who
 she
 wanted,
 but
 I
 didn’t
 know
 how
 to
 help
 
her—and
 maybe
 that
 wasn’t
 my
 job
 at
 all—so
 I
 didn’t
 respond
 
verbally. I kissed her shoulders and caressed her body and knelt
down. She breathed and inhaled deeply as she grabbed my head
and spread her legs.

That
 really
 wasn’t
 going
 to
 happen.
 I
 grabbed
 her
 panties
 and
 
picked her foot up to pull them back up on her. She looked
ashamed. She would have died in ecstasy to know that in my mind
she was down on her knees giving me the royal treatment and
after that, I could just envision myself screwing her brains out, but
I
 stayed
 composed.
 I
 said,
 “Bev,
 we’re
 very
 late.
 Hurry
 and
 dress
 so
 
we
 can
 get
 on
 the
 road.”
 I
 walked
 out
 of
 her
 bedroom
 and went to
sit on the couch in her living room.

236

Chapter 19

I sat there for about four minutes, and she came out fully
dressed in her workout clothes, looking delicious as ever. I smiled
and
 said,
 “This
 moment
 is
 not
 something
 you
 have
 to
 be
 ashamed
 
of,
 and
 everything
 here
 will
 stay
 here.”

She
 looked
 at
 me
 and
 asked,
 “So
 Sheila
 came
 up
 that
 fast,
 huh?”

I
 tried
 to
 play
 her
 stupid
 by
 asking,
 “What’s
 that
 supposed
 to
 
mean? Sheila is at home. The only two people I see here are you
and
 me.”

“In
 body;
 but
 her
 presence
 is
 here,
 and
 you’re
 a
 different
 man
 
than
 you
 were
 two
 weeks
 ago.
 You’re
 a
 married
 man
 now.
 Two
 
weeks ago and last week, you were trying to gain information from
me. My girl zoomed up to the head of the class and now I might
need
 to
 shrink
 your
 head
 for
 information.
 I’m
 too
 lonely
 to
 
speculate
 for
 long.”

I appreciated the compliment and privately accepted it on both
Sheila’s
 and
 my
 behalf.
 I
 stood
 and
 walked
 to
 the
 door,
 and
 she
 
grabbed her things and followed.

Out the door and in the truck, we were quickly on our way. She
asked me to turn the music down, and we were in reversed roles as
we
 drive
 and
 she
 probed
 me
 for
 information.
 She
 asked,
 “What
 is
 it
 
about
 her,
 Eric?”

“Who?”

“Sheila.
 You
 know
 that
 I
 had
 the opportunity to peep the whole
gang
 at
 the
 baseball
 game.”

I thought she would have been more worried and preoccupied
with
 Wesley
 and
 Corintha.
 I
 couldn’t
 see
 her
 face
 because
 of
 the
 
shades and sun visor, but I guess Vanessa and all of the other
activities
 distracted
 me
 so
 that
 even
 if
 I
 could
 have
 seen
 Bev’s
 face,
 
I
 wouldn’t
 have
 had
 enough
 attention
 to
 concentrate
 on
 her.
 I
 
asked
 her,
 “So
 what
 did
 you
 see,
 or
 what
 do
 you
 think
 you
 saw?”

237

She
 giggled
 and
 said,
 “You
 and
 Vanessa
 have
 been
 all
 through it,
but
 she
 doesn’t
 know
 that
 you
 are
 changing
 and
 some
 of
 those
 
changes
 will
 greatly
 affect
 how
 you
 two
 interact.”

I
 said,
 “No,
 I
 think
 she
 recognizes
 that
 my
 life
 is
 in
 transition.
 
She
 just
 doesn’t
 want
 to
 be
 left
 behind.”

“Six
 in
 one
 hand, half
 a
 dozen
 in
 the
 other.”

“Why
 do
 you
 say
 that?”

“It
 doesn’t
 matter
 which
 angle
 you
 take
 to
 get
 to
 the
 same
 point.
 
She is and will feel like a loser. I threw my hat in the ring, and I feel
devastated
 already,
 and
 I
 don’t
 have
 a
 child
 with
 you.
 I
 haven’t
 
been through ups and downs with you, but I see what she sees, and
she may see even more because she knows you inside and out. I
haven’t
 been
 touched
 how
 I
 want
 to
 be
 touched
 by
 a
 man
 since
 
Jared. That is something we women need. She needs it, and like so
many other women, she will do so many desperate things to get it.
Rejection
 for
 me
 is
 no
 less
 painful,
 but
 I
 don’t
 have
 anywhere
 near
 
the investment Vanessa has. But my disappointment will subside
because the well of expectations was not as deep from the
beginning. So what that my desires may not be realized, but I
developed my identity and character prior to knowing you. You
finally pushing me away is going to be like taking Anthony from
her.
 As
 she
 sees
 it,
 you’re
 part
 of
 her.”

I heard all that, but I wondered quite often that if Bev knew so
much, why would she lend herself to all the complexities of dealing
with
 me?
 I
 said,
 “Bev,
 this
 really
 makes
 very
 little
 sense.
 I
 know
 
where Vanessa stands; I know where Sheila stands. But you, why
are
 you
 still
 trying
 to
 risk
 so
 much
 and
 possibly
 receive
 so
 little?”

She
 asked
 me,
 “If
 I
 gave
 you
 the
 choice
 between
 100%
 of
 ten
 
dollars
 or
 10%
 of
 one
 hundred
 dollars,
 which
 would
 you
 want?”

“They’re
 both
 ten
 dollars,
 so
 what’s
 the
 difference?”

She
 said,
 “The
 possibility
 to
 gain
 the
 rest
 of
 the
 ninety
 dollars.
 
That’s
 what
 Vanessa
 is
 holding
 out
 for.
 Look
 at
 all
 that
 she
 has
 
experienced with just a slight touch of hands. She sees all the
possibilities that could be if she ever got the whole hug she wants.

238

Her
 problem
 is
 going
 to
 be
 that
 she
 won’t
 discover
 that
 Sheila
 has
 
possession of that other ninety dollars. Judging from the way
you’re
 acting
 right
 now,
 Sheila
 is
 in
 full
 control
 of
 it;
 it’s
 all
 over
 
your
 face.”

I
 defended,
 “Well,
 I
 guess Sheila was the right woman for me at
the
 right
 time
 in
 my
 life.”

Bev
 snickered
 and
 said,
 “Don’t
 ever
 repeat
 that
 again
 if
 you
 
want
 to
 save
 yourself
 a
 lot
 of
 grief.”

“Why?”

“Because
 if
 you
 and
 Vanessa
 have
 been
 dealing
 with
 each
 other
 
for as long as you have, there had to have been plenty of right
moments
 along
 the
 timeline.”

I
 reiterated
 and
 emphasized,
 “I
 said
 Sheila
 was
 the
 right
 woman
 
at
 the
 right
 time.”

She
 remarked,
 “No
 matter
 how
 you
 phrase
 it,
 what
 you
 said
 
implies
 that
 Vanessa
 is
 or
 was
 the
 wrong
 woman.”

“She
 was.”

“Well
 then
 why
 did
 you
 keep
 her
 hanging
 around
 so
 long?”

“She
 kept
 herself
 hanging
 around.
 I’m
 not
 responsible
 for
 her
 
choices. Houston—hell, the world—has infinite numbers of men
around who would have leapt at the opportunity to be with her.
Plus, I could have died, and then she would have been forced to
either get herself together and be alone or deal with somebody
else.”

“And
 what
 about
 Anthony?”

“Anthony
 has
 very
 little
 to
 do
 with
 Vanessa
 and
 me.”

Bev
 argued
 with
 me
 and
 said,
 “That’s
 the
 part
 that
 men
 don’t
 
get. In our minds, your children have everything to do with the
relationship between us. So many women put men through child
support issues because they need the help with the children, but
then others come clean and admit that the visitation schedule

239

applies to them, too. I have a problem with being rejected, and I
don’t
 have
 a
 problem
 with
 it.
 but, I
 don’t
 have
 to
 look
 at
 the
 
physical embodiment of my rejection and force myself to split the
two
 loves
 that
 I
 intended
 to
 be
 together
 for
 the
 rest
 of
 my
 life.
 I’ll
 
come
 clean.
 Right
 here
 and
 now,
 I’ll
 come
 clean.
 If
 you
 and
 I
 ever
 
got together, I have done my best to prepare to be involved, fed up,
sick, or whatever else I would have to endure to be with you. I
want a child; I want your child. I want all of the complexities that
go along with being with somebody as blessed as you. so what,
somebody would call me a whore or home wrecker, but know this,
buddy boy—for however long in my life that you and I could enjoy
all the goods and bads, I would be better off than every other
woman sitting around single, mated, or even married who are
lonely as hell in their hearts. Love can seem like a game to some
people, but trust me, it is not. Nothing is ever really a game. Chess,
checkers, and even things like that are practice for life. Those so-
called games prepare people for life. Sheila is reigning queen on
your board, and that will be hard to accept for Vanessa or any
other
 woman
 who
 is
 interested
 in
 you.”

We
 were
 really
 arguing,
 and
 I
 couldn’t
 see
 why.
 There
 I
 was
 
trying to defend the fact that I was not perfect and make that the
reason why people should not want to be involved with me. It
sounded carr-a-zeeee.
 I
 said,
 “Bev,
 I
 am
 so
 screwed
 up
 inside…”

She
 cut
 me
 off
 and
 screamed,
 “You’re
 not!
 You
 might
 have
 been
 
at one time, but you are different now. If you were a woman, I
would
 say
 you’re
 pregnant
 from that damn glow coming off you.
it’s
 almost
 like
 you’re
 a
 new
 butterfly
 unfolding
 your
 wings
 and
 
waiting for them to dry. Everything about you, Eric—your colors,
how you feel and smell, is brand new, and people can tell the
difference in how you feel and how they feel, and like Vanessa and
me,
 everybody
 will
 work
 to
 be
 near
 you.”

She leaned back into the seat because she had slowly twisted
and gotten into my face as I drove. I admit that I was feeling a little
different—a little better—but
 I
 wasn’t feeling like what she
described. I glanced over at her and she had little beads of sweat
on
 her
 lip
 and
 forehead.
 I
 reached
 for
 a
 tissue
 and
 asked,
 “Beverly,
 
here.
 Is
 it
 that
 deep?
 You’re
 getting
 worked
 up
 over…”

240

“Life!
 The
 only
 thing
 worth
 dying
 for
 is
 living, Eric. Ask any woman
who
 can’t
 have
 her
 own
 children
 how
 defective
 she
 feels.
 And
 
whether they have to raise that one child alone or whatever, that
validation is worth getting your ass kicked or being impoverished.
Yes,
 it’s
 that
 deep.
 Disguise
 it,
 do whatever you will with it. Sex has
one main purpose, and everything else is secondary. Sex is for
procreation. I want it; every woman wants it. And in the times
when it feels financially or otherwise not feasible, we want to
practice the hell out of it so that when the time gets right, we can
have
 it.
 Any
 other
 questions?”

I
 said,
 “Yeah,
 you
 said
 that
 you
 had
 gotten
 pregnant
 by
 Wes.
 
That
 was
 your
 validation?”

She
 said,
 “no,
 that
 was
 proof
 of
 the
 fact
 that
 I
 had
 lost
 my
 rabbit
 
ass mind. God gave me a chance to bring life into the world, and I
gave
 it
 back.
 Now
 I’m
 dying
 to
 have
 the
 opportunity
 to
 do
 it
 again,
 
and
 I’m
 getting
 desperate.
 Strip
 all
 the
 pretty
 colors
 and
 words
 off
 
it and see my actions for what they are—desperation for trying to
have the best I can in the undetermined amount of time I have left
on this earth. I can concede that you are officially off the market,
but now I have to start my search over. That will be easier for me
than
 it
 will
 for
 Vanessa.
 I’m
 really
 not
 trying
 to
 wish you bad luck,
but
 I
 saw
 a
 woman
 pull
 out
 her
 big
 guns
 and
 couldn’t
 make
 a
 dent
 
in
 Sheila’s
 armor.
 Since
 Saturday,
 Sheila
 has
 done
 something
 to
 you
 
or with you that set your marriage so far out of reach that Vanessa
is going to compare herself and feel so inadequate that she might
damn
 near
 lose
 it.”

That had me worrying about Sheila and Vanessa at my house. I
wondered what the hell they were talking about and how long
Vanessa stayed. I was feeling more and more comfortable that Bev
had seemed to embrace the fact that Sheila and I were rock solid,
and
 that
 didn’t
 leave
 any
 room
 for
 Bev
 and
 me
 to
 be
 romantically
 
involved.
 I
 didn’t
 feel
 like
 she
 was
 trying
 to
 reverse
 the
 psychology
 
on
 me.
 She
 said,
 “Hey,
 we’re
 almost
 there.
 On
 the
 way
 home,
 the
 
topic will be all directed at me figuring out how to step up to where
Sheila is so when I do get a chance to have what I want, I can
celebrate.”

241

I wondered if that meant she would approach me again later. I
asked,
 “So
 have
 you
 taken
 your
 name
 out
 of
 the
 bid
 hat?”

“Child,
 please.
 Sheila
 got
 the
 damn
 bid
 hat
 on
 her
 head.
 My
 
name
 don’t
 matter.
 Now
 here’s
 a
 question
 for
 you
 to
 think
 about.
 If
 
I promise to not try to trap you or get pregnant or any of those
things that I, like every other woman, am capable of doing, will you
make
 love
 to
 me?”

WHOAAAAH!
 I
 said,
 “Bevvvv…”

She
 said,
 “The
 worst
 thing
 you
 can
 tell
 me
 is
 no.”

So many scenarios traveled through my mind. I finally settled
down
 as
 I
 pulled
 up
 to
 the
 gym
 to
 let
 her
 jump
 out
 and
 said,
 “No,
 
Bev.
 We
 can’t
 do
 that.”

She
 didn’t
 seem
 fazed.
 She
 grabbed
 her
 bag,
 put
 her
 hair
 back
 in
 
a
 sweatband,
 and
 said,
 “I’ll
 ask
 you
 again
 on
 the
 way
 back
 for
 
confirmation
 sake.
 See
 you
 in
 two
 and
 a
 half
 hours.”
 I
 sighed.

I drove up to the school parking lot and hustled to park and get
inside just before the custodian chained and locked the door. When
I
 walked
 into
 the
 meeting,
 everyone’s
 faces
 lit
 up
 and
 their
 voices
 
rounded
 in
 greetings.
 Don
 said,
 “Hey,
 bro’,
 we
 thought
 you
 weren’t
 
going to make it. You’ve
 missed
 the
 money
 minutes
 and
 the
 name
 
game,
 but
 you
 look
 like
 you’re
 dressed
 and
 prepared
 to
 take
 us
 off
 
the
 edge
 you
 left
 us
 on
 last
 week.”

Eric
 said,
 “Awe,
 Don,
 give
 the
 man
 a
 break.”

Sick
 stood
 up
 and
 said,
 “Ay,
 y’all
 gotta
 know,
 this
 cat is a helluva
nigga…oops,
 I
 mean,
 he’s
 a
 umm…a
 pretty
 spectacular
 person.
 I
 
told them about the demo you put down out at the trucking
company.”

Johnny
 said,
 “Eric
 number
 two,
 I’m
 impressed.
 Brother,
 you’re
 
carrying
 the
 flat
 for
 us
 and
 nobody
 had
 to
 ask
 you,
 and
 it’s
 easy
 to
 
see
 that
 you
 aren’t
 asking
 for
 praise.”

I
 didn’t
 feel
 like
 I
 had
 done
 all
 that
 much.
 Mr.
 Washington
 was
 
excited yesterday, but there was so much more to be done. I said,
“Well,
 before
 anybody
 gets
 too
 excited,
 there
 are
 a
 lot
 of
 things
 that
 

242