Love Me or Miss Me

by Dream Jordan

  “I’m too fly to cry,” said Naleejah. “No dude is worth my tears.”

  “I hear that,” I agreed. “Let it roll off your back—oh hey, could you do me a favor and bring my backpack with you?” I suddenly thought to ask.

  “Girl, I threw that piece of junk away.”

  It took me a full minute to process what Naleejah had just said.

  “You did what?”

  “I threw that sorry knapsack away, what?”

  “You mean in the garbage can?”

  “Where else is it going to go, silly?”

  “But who told you to throw my bag away?” I asked in disbelief.

  “Calm down, calm down, there was nothing inside of it. I checked it twice.”

  I was speechless.

  “Dang, Kate, I’m letting you keep the pocketbook I gave you!”

  “But why didn’t you ask me first?” I demanded, anger rising up to my throat. “How could you throw away my bag?”

  “I thought I was doing you a favor. The thing looked like it was ready for the trash can. Now you have a better bag on your shoulders, what?”

  “Well did the trash get taken out yet?” I asked in desperation.

  “Oh my gosh!” Naleejah exclaimed. “Is it really that serious?”

  I grew quiet. I had to. I was holding back a storm. It wouldn’t be pretty if I opened my mouth.

  “Listen, Kate, I promise to buy you a new knapsack, okay? Please don’t trip over this.”

  I was tripping inside. Twisted inside. Felt like I’d just lost my best friend. I’d had that knapsack for as long as I can remember. I was so angry, hurt, shocked at Naleejah’s nerves. But as hard as it was, I had to calm myself down and count to ten. I still needed Naleejah to clear things up with Lynn. If I said what was really on my mind, Naleejah would never speak to me again.

  “Kate, I’m really sorry, all right? I’ll be there soon … okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, okay.” I gave her my address. Click. Hung up the phone, and exhaled a mouthful of fire.

  Lynn was already downstairs when Naleejah rang the bell. Before I could reach the bottom step, Lynn bum-rushed the door. I hung back and watched.

  “Hi!” Naleejah chirped to Lynn.

  “I’m sorry, young lady, but Kate didn’t ask me if she could have company.”

  “Oh, I’m just here to drop off clothes,” said Naleejah, wearing her famous smile. I inched toward the door and waved at her.

  “Hey, Kate!” Naleejah busted into a goofy smile.

  Lynn swiveled around to face me, and then turned back around to face Naleejah’s father, who was now carrying a garbage bag jam-packed with clothes up the porch steps.

  Full of smiles, Mr. Mackie introduced himself and then said, “So I hear there’s been a bit of confusion about Kate’s makeover.”

  “No, no confusion at all,” said Lynn, creasing her eyebrows.

  I wanted to slap the lie out of her mouth.

  “Well, I would invite you in,” Lynn continued, “but I wasn’t expecting company—”

  Mr. Mackie interrupted Lynn with a careless wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’m just here to drop off these clothes.”

  At that moment, Ted rolled up and introduced himself.

  “You mind taking these off my hands?” asked Mr. Mackie, holding up the giant bag to Ted.

  “No, not at all.” Ted handed me his newspaper, and then he grabbed the bag.

  “More clothes for me,” I explained, beaming.

  Ted flashed me an I believed you all along wink, and then he said his good-byes, and dragged the bag inside. Lynn followed his lead, looking all stupid in the face.

  Bam! Take that, Lynn.

  Mission accomplished.

  I thanked Naleejah and her father. Her father hopped inside their little red hoopty. Naleejah stayed behind and started tugging at my arm. “Can you come with me to the laundry?” she asked. “I could use some help.”

  “Sorry, I—”

  “I don’t expect you to touch the dirty clothes—just help me do some folding, please?”

  “I can’t,” I said. “I have to stay here. Tisha’s coming over … don’t you have your father to help you out?”

  Naleejah jerked her head back. “Please, picture him helping me out with anything. My dad is just dropping me off, then he goes off to do whatever the hell he does and comes back for me when I’m done—but it’s okay, I’ll handle it. I always handle it.”

  “Oh, all right,” I said, feeling bad for her. “See you later, then—maybe around five o’clock?”

  “Will you be done with your friend by then?” asked Naleejah in a jealous tone.

  “What friend?”

  “Tisha.”

  I chuckled. “Tisha is my social worker, silly.”

  “Social worker?” Naleejah repeated. “What’s that all about?”

  “I’ll explain it later.” But no, I wouldn’t.

  “Mm, that’s a relief,” said Naleejah, smiling. “I thought you were having me replaced as your homegirl already.… So, what time will you be through with Tisha?”

  “Don’t know, she said she’ll be here around—”

  “BERTHA, COME ON!” Naleejah’s father interrupted. His head was stuck out the car, his hand motioning wildly for her to hurry up. But wait. Did he just call my homegirl Bertha—or was I just hearing things?

  I didn’t have time to ask Naleejah, because at the sound of her father’s booming voice, she had already sprinted to the car, hopped inside, and waved good-bye.

  Oh well. I’d ask her later.

  I plopped down on my front steps, closed my eyes, and leaned my head against the railing, waiting for Tisha.

  * * *

  Tisha pulled up in her adorable white Volkswagen. She looked so fly inside of it; I wanted a car just like hers. She hopped out, radiating fabulousness. Had her hair cut in a short bob, and she was rocking a stunning yellow summer dress and gold strappy sandals. She sashayed up to the porch, knowing she was all of that.

  “Work it out,” I said, smiling. “Rip the runway.”

  Tisha spun around like a model and said, “Watch out, now!” Then she gave me a hug and asked if I wanted to talk outside or in. She should’ve known out. This didn’t need to be a group discussion. I ran back inside to get a cushion for her to sit on the porch steps.

  But after I told Tisha everything, a group discussion it was going to be. It had to be, Tisha claimed, because there’s two sides to every story. Oh well. I went back inside and told Ted that Tisha wanted to speak to them. Then I escorted Tisha into the living room and made her sit next to me on the love seat. I grabbed a random throw pillow just to hold on to. Two minutes later, Ted and Lynn walked in. They sat side by side on the opposite couch.

  First thing out of Lynn’s mouth: “Kate, I don’t understand. Why did you have to get Tisha involved? I thought we settled this already.”

  “But I didn’t ask her to come over,” I protested, making sure my eyeballs were under control.

  Lynn acted like she didn’t hear me, then turned to Ted and said, “Do you see this? She’s getting everybody involved. First she has her friend’s father come over, and now she’s got Tisha coming here—on her day off!”

  Ted reached over to pat Lynn’s hand and said, “Baby, please calm down.”

  Yeah, Lynn, get back in your cage.

  Tisha raised her index finger. “Listen, I chose to come here on my own. Let’s not make this a big deal. Now can we move on?”

  The discussion began. But we didn’t get far. Lynn suddenly went off on a detour, hyperventilating like she always does. “I try so hard with these kids. So, what am I to do? You act too nice to them, and they take advantage of you. You give them tough love, and they call their social workers on you. Do you know how many children I had to have removed because they couldn’t handle the freedom I gave them? I mean … my fault for knowingly taking in an at-risk child.”

  Tisha broke in again, this
time in a much sterner voice. “Now why would you say that in front of her?” She jutted her chin toward me. “Kate, do me a favor and go upstairs. I’ll call you back down in a second.”

  Gladly.

  When I was called back into the living room, Lynn avoided eye contact with me. Tisha must’ve ripped Lynn a new one, Brooklyn-style. Go, Tisha, represent!

  Tisha said a few more choice words, and then the drama was finally over. I walked Tisha to her car and thanked her for coming through.

  “Kate, get in the car.”

  I was confused. Tisha was wearing the same stern face she had reserved for Lynn. Why?

  I hopped inside her ride.

  Tisha tilted her head and stared at me for a second, then said, “You know you’re not a hundred percent innocent. You have some responsibility for this. Lynn told me that you didn’t ask for permission to get your hair done and bring new clothes into the house.”

  “Well … I didn’t think I had to,” I said. “It’s my hair … and to me the clothes were just hand-me-downs.”

  “Even so, you could’ve told her.”

  “Okay, true.”

  “Always take responsibility for your actions,” said Tisha. “You know you owe Lynn an apology, right?”

  “Why?” I whined. “Do I have to?”

  Tisha gave me one look, and I knew the answer was yes. “Okay, I feel you, but still, she didn’t have to ransack my room like a crazy crackhead.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Tisha. “I already lit into her about that.”

  “Yeah, I could tell.” I wanted to giggle, but Tisha was still looking serious in the face.

  “See, Kate, you have to make sure you’re always on point,” explained Tisha. “Don’t give Lynn any reason to come at you. You’ve been doing so well so far.”

  “Yeah, if it wasn’t for you—”

  Tisha cut me off. “Stop saying that, ‘if it wasn’t for me’ crap. I don’t want to hear that.”

  “Well … nobody else cared about what I did until you came along.”

  “But you have to care about yourself,” said Tisha. “What if I never came along?”

  I had no answer for this.

  “Kate, remember the day you told me you wish you were never born?”

  I paused. The memory was painful. “Yes … I remember.”

  “And what did I tell you?”

  I muttered, “That I’m here now, so I might as well do something worthwhile.”

  “And what else?”

  “Always go for greatness.”

  I bent my head low, pretending to be preoccupied with my stubby nails. I didn’t want to cry. Not in front of Tisha. I had to be strong.

  “Life’s hard enough already,” Tisha began, “don’t make it harder for yourself. It’s not your fault you’re in foster care. You didn’t do anything wrong. But it will be your fault if you don’t do anything right with your life. Understand?”

  Tisha was right. I mean, why hit the rock and become a crackhead when I could hit the books and become a CEO instead? But still, I felt sad and uninspired at the moment.

  I turned my head to look out the window. Now I really wanted to cry. There’s always been a part of me missing—times I wished I didn’t have to wake up in a stranger’s house every single year, times I wished I didn’t have to wake up ever again. It’s hard to feel like you don’t belong anywhere, or to anybody, and—well—it’s just hard, and I wasn’t sure if Tisha fully understood my pain.

  But of all people, I didn’t want to disappoint Tisha. She’s always telling me that I’m strong, and that I shouldn’t dwell on my past, and that I should live for my future. It sounds good in a speech, but it’s really not that simple.

  Tisha tapped my knee. “Listen, girl, I’m not trying to sit here all day and watch you feel sorry for yourself. I got me a hot date, and you’re blocking.”

  A smile crept across my lips. I turned around to face Tisha. She reached over to rub my shoulder. “Kate, I deal with twenty kids at one time, and you’re the one I’m checking for … on my weekend, at that? Come on, now, what does that tell you?”

  I shrugged, feeling all shy, and suddenly … kinda special.

  “So, I’ll see you at my office on Tuesday?” Tisha asked.

  “For sure.” Tuesday was the day I was to meet my new law guardian. I didn’t even know I had a lawyer until Tisha told me. Nice to know I had someone to protect my legal rights, even though I didn’t feel like dealing with anything that had to do with court right now. If I could help it, the next time I planned to be in court was when I was being emancipated from the system.

  But I was looking forward to spending more time with Tisha. She always took me to Baskin-Robbins after our business was complete, and I loved that part. I knew she wasn’t supposed to be bonding with me so deep, but that’s just how Tisha rolled. She says I’m special, and I accept that.

  “You better be on time,” Tisha warned.

  “No doubt.… So is my lecture over?”

  Tisha playfully pushed my arm and said, “Don’t make me put you in a headlock.”

  “Nah, you look too fly to be fighting.” We laughed. I hugged Tisha good-bye and hopped out of her car. She sped down the block like she had a hot date—well, that’s because she did. I’m sorry, but I still have to say: If it wasn’t for Tisha, where would I be? Listen, she had a hot date, and she was still checking for me? How could I not be touched? Quite a few social workers I’d dealt with treated me like I was just a paycheck and a pain in the butt, like they couldn’t be so bothered with me—leaving me to wonder why they chose to work with kids in the first place. Why not work with adults whose hopes and dreams are probably already dead? But whatever.

  I went back inside the house. First things first. Apologize to Lynn. I didn’t want to do it, but it had to be done. I found Lynn in the living room with Ted. Perfect, now he could witness me taking the high road.

  “Excuse me,” I began.

  They both looked up at me.

  “Lynn, I’m sorry I disrespected you,” I said. “I should’ve told you that my friend hooked me up with hair and clothes.”

  Lynn gave me an odd look, and then relaxed her face. She paused for a long time and then said, “Well … I should have asked you first.”

  I guess that was Lynn’s way of apologizing. I’ll take it.

  Chapter 14

  The next afternoon, Naleejah called to see if I wanted to hang out. Hell yeah. I needed to get out of the house, especially after what had happened yesterday. Lynn’s crack actions were forgiven, but not forgotten. It was best to stay out of her crazy way.

  “So, what you wanna do?” I asked.

  “Girl, it’s hot outside. I want to get wet.… I heard there’s a pool somewhere around here. You down?”

  “Nah, we can’t,” I said. “Marcy Pool is closed. But we can get wet on Chauncey Street. They always have a fire hydrant going.”

  “Fire hydrant? Is you crazy?” Naleejah exclaimed. “That’s mad bootleg! What would I look like playing in water out in the street?”

  “Like you were getting wet,” I snapped. Naleejah was forever worrying about what she looked like to other people, and she was getting on my nerves with that—not to mention rubbing off on me.

  I sighed. “Forget it. We can find something else to do.”

  “Oh, maybe we can—”

  Suddenly I heard Mrs. Mackie’s muffled yelling in the background. Her and Naleejah went back and forth for a long minute. I thought Naleejah had forgotten I was still on the phone. I was about to hang up, but then she got back to me in a huff. She called her mother the B-word then asked me if I could come with her to Restoration Plaza.

  “Why, what’s happening there?”

  “I have to pay the stupid electric bill—if I don’t, we’ll be in the dark. Don’t ask me how many times we’ve been in the dark before.”

  “Yeah, I’ll come with you,” I said. “What time?”

  “Soon as possible.… A
re you dressed?”

  “I can get dressed,” I said.

  “Well, call me when you’re ready.”

  I got ready. Hopped into Tammy’s clothes, hooked up my hair, threw on my hurting wedges, and wobbled out the house … wobbled back into the house because my feet were in serious pain. I could no longer fake it. Raggedy sneakers, back on my feet.

  Naleejah and I met up on Malcom X Boulevard. As soon as she saw me, she looked me up and down and said, “Oh no, girl, what happened to the shoes I gave you?”

  “They hurt … bad.”

  Naleejah scowled. “And you don’t own another decent pair?”

  “Yeah, I have another pair at home,” I snapped. “I just didn’t feel like wearing them today.” I wouldn’t call the penny loafers Lynn bought me “decent,” but I didn’t like the way Naleejah had just come out of her face, like I was so freaking pitiful and poor. So I had to play it off.

  “But what if we bump into some cuties?” Naleejah asked worriedly.

  “Then we’ll just have to bump,” I said. “Anyway, can we go now? It’s too hot out here to be messing around.”

  As we neared Fulton Street, I wondered if I would see Charles hanging out in front of Boys & Girls High, his favorite spot. I didn’t share my curiosity with Naleejah. She was on my nerves right now, talking about my leaning sneakers nonstop.

  Then again, I had to keep reminding myself that Naleejah was only trying to help me be the best that I could be.

  We walked on. No sight of Charles on Fulton Street. Oh well. Naleejah paid her bill. On our way back from Restoration Plaza, I peeped a shoe store’s window and saw a beautiful sight that made my heart flutter: a pair of black leather strappy sandals sitting regally on a perch, waiting to be worn by me.

  I pointed them out to Naleejah.

  “Oh yeah, now those are banging.” Naleejah said, “If you don’t buy them, I will.… But nah, I have enough shoes as it is. So you better cop those bangers, girl! Don’t front.”

  Cop them, how? I was saving my fifty-dollar gift certificate from Felicia to help out with my school clothes. And Lynn had already spent all she was willing to spend on my summer gear. I wasn’t about to ask Ted for anything. He was mad cool, but his wife was in control of his wallet. So, what could I do? Nothing but bypass the store. As we passed by the window, the sandals seemed to call at my back: Kate, please don’t leave me here.