Tyrant

by Tiana Laveen

  Listen to that shit. These kids listen to some dumb ass music. The lyrics are just silly!

  Placing her oversized gray leather purse and two grocery bags full of food on the kitchen counter, she grabbed the mail that her sixteen-year-old daughter must’ve brought in after arriving home from school. Nita began sorting it, fearful she may run into an overdue bill. She tried to stay on top of everything, but at times, money was tight.

  “Junk mail… bill… bill… coupons…” She tossed the mail down, then removed her long light gray coat and placed it on the back of one of four small yellow chairs in the kitchen. “Tisha!”

  No answer.

  I swear, if I was telling her I had tickets to see Cardi B. or Megan Thee Stallion, she’d be down those steps and racing to me before I could even finish the damn sentence!

  Nita opened the grocery sacks and pulled out a gallon of milk, butter, a bag of oranges and apples. She then carried two boxes of cereal, spaghetti, marinara sauce, and a carton of frosted strawberry Pop-Tarts to the pantry. As she was doing so, her daughter burst into the kitchen jamming hot Cheetos into her mouth as she swayed her skinny body to and fro to the beat. The girl’s long dark brown braids, threaded with pink and blue yarn, danced about her face as she twirled around like some Soul Train dancer.

  “Hey, Mama! How long have you been home?” she said around a mouthful of food. Nita grimaced at her child and placed her cellphone on the charger. “What?” Tisha asked with a smirk.

  “Girl, I’ve been calling you for over ten minutes. Turn that shit down! If I wanted to hear some little girl pretending to be grown, talking about all the haters, dollars, diamonds and men she got, I’d watch a soap opera!” Tisha smacked her lips, walked away, turned the music off that had been playing in the living room. She came back to lean on the kitchen doorframe, still munching on her salty cheddar snack. “Is your homework finished, girl?”

  “Almost. I have a book report due in a few days so I started on that.”

  “Where’s Olive?”

  “She’s upstairs now reading. What’s for dinner? Oh! Oh! Mama, can we have some Taco Bell?”

  “Tisha, I told you I’m not going to be buying a bunch of junk all the time. Watch, mark my words. You keep eating that shit and you are going to blow up like a balloon. You’re skinny now, but metabolism is real. And slow once you hit thirty,” she teased.

  “Taco Bell isn’t junk!”

  She rolled her eyes at the girl.

  “I can make homecooked meals at a fraction of the price and it’s much healthier. I’ve got you and Olive covered. You’ve got some pasta and—”

  “But Mama, Taco Bell is healthy! It’s got all the four food groups. Check this out… Cheese for dairy,” she began to count off her long fingers, “the shell is bread, the beef is the meat, and lettuce and tomato are the veggies and fruits! It’s a one stop shop for nutrition!”

  Nita burst out laughing and playfully swung a paper towel roll in the girl’s face. Tisha grinned, but kept right at it.

  “Pleeeeeasssse, Mama!” Putting her hands together as if in prayer and jumping up and down, she really put on a show. “Mama, I won’t ask for any pizza, burgers, nothin’ for a whole week if you let us get it tonight.”

  “A whole week, huh? I believe that like I believe the president cares about Black people. And now here comes the part where you ask for my car keys and drive your behind over there with my radio blasting so loud, it’ll sound like you’re providing the music for a block party, like your name is DJ Tisha Turntables on the Wheels of Steel!”

  “Well, I’m known to—”

  “Well, I’m nothin’.” She jammed her finger in her daughter’s direction. “I will let you go to Taco Bell, Tisha, but you better not mess around with that radio. I have gotten back in my car too many times to count after you’ve been in it, turned on the car, and my damn eardrums were practically bleeding on account of you. In fact, don’t even turn it on. Act like it doesn’t exist. Stay off your phone, keep your eyes on the road, and bring me all of my change back. You better not be a penny short. Don’t stop anywhere else either, no joy riding, no showing off for any boys, all the mess you like to do.”

  “All right, Mama.” On a huff, Nita reached for her purse and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “What do you want from there?” Tisha asked.

  “Just bring me back one soft chicken taco and one of those little cheesy potato side dish things they have, you know what I’m talking about… I’ll make some soup here at home to go with it.”

  “Cool. Let me ask Olive if she wants to go.” Nita nodded then watched her daughter jam the crisp cash in her front jeans pocket before vanishing back up the steps. She started to wipe down the counters and try her best to decompress from the long work day. She reached for the radio on the counter and smiled when ‘No Rhyme No Reason’ by George Duke began to play on the smooth jazz station.

  Oh, I love this song. It’s been a long ass day… Goodness…

  As an administrative assistant for U-Haul, who also helped in customer service, she could be really tried at times. Like when people called to complain, or when the management got on her very last nerve. I don’t get paid enough for this mess. I can’t curse them all out like I want to, but I sure like fantasizing about it!

  Minutes later, Tisha returned with her jacket on and phone in hand.

  “Olive is going to stay here at the house. I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay.” Nita handed her daughter the car keys. As Tisha reached for the backdoor knob, she tugged at the girl’s pale pink satin Adidas jacket and pulled her close. “Baby, has she spoken to either of her parents yet?”

  Tisha lowered her head for a spell and shook it.

  “No. I think her father was taken to the hospital again. That’s what she said her aunt told her. And her mom still hasn’t called.”

  “Hospital? This goes from bad to worse. This isn’t like Holly. I mean, she and I weren’t best friends, but I knew her well enough to say that this is out of character. I just wish I would have known sooner. The poor girl was being bounced around like a ball.”

  “I know. She didn’t want to bother anyone about it. She was staying with her grandparents this final time but felt uncomfortable, as you know. Olive keeps a lot of stuff in or pretends like it’s no big deal so to be honest, sometimes I really don’t even know how she really feels, Mama, even with as close as she and I are.”

  “Fair enough. Honey, she may not know how she really feels, either. Things like this can be complicated.”

  “Thanks for letting her stay here, Mama. I’m glad she’s here. At least she seems to be happy. For now.”

  Nita sighed.

  “I am too… it’s a damn shame. She’s such a sweet girl. You girls have been friends for so long. I never would’ve thought her mother would’ve disappeared like this. I hate to keep saying that, but I’m still in shock. Holly hadn’t taken anything in years, not even a drop of wine. At least that’s what her mother said.” Tisha shrugged and her complexion deepened. “Regardless, my main focus right now is Olive. How’s she doing in school? Emotionally, that is?”

  “She has good and bad days. Sometimes she just kind of zones out.”

  “I wish she’d talk to me more, but I know these things take time. Y’all will be seventeen in no time, and in a minute, she’ll be able to live on her own if she so chooses. Her best bet may be to get in a college dorm room since neither of her parents seem to be trustworthy. You both need an education.” Tisha grimaced. “I’m serious, Tisha. I know you think college is a waste of time, an outdated notion, but not everyone can become a millionaire off YouTube makeup and celebrity gossip video uploads! You have to have a backup plan. Lord knows she’s seen enough of what not to do. With her father being in and out of prison for so long, she really has nothing to fall back on. She needs a support system. She’s had it rough. With both of y’all being only children, there are advantages and disadvantages to that, too. At least you have each othe
r though.” Tisha nodded in agreement. “All right, go on and get your dinner.”

  The girl threw her arms around her mother’s neck, pulled her close, and squeezed tight.

  “Ohhhh, girl… don’t go getting all mushy on me.” She patted her daughter’s back and relished the embrace, smiling sadly. In that moment, she recalled what it had felt like to hold her as a little baby… Time sure had flown by.

  “I’m just glad I have you, Mama. Her mother was there, now she’s got nobody. One parent is better than none at all.” Nita’s smile slowly dissipated. “I couldn’t imagine bein’ in her shoes. You and Daddy aren’t together, but you both take care of me. She didn’t have any of that. She’s like a sister to me… I don’t care that she’s White. I still call her my sister because we don’t have to look alike to be close and love each other like that.”

  “You’re exactly right. Loving someone and true friendship have nothing to do with that superficial stuff. Just another scheme to divide the world. Now go on. It’s getting late. I don’t like you out alone after dark. I want you to hurry on back so you can finish your homework and I can check over it.”

  “Okay, Mama. I’ll be right back.”

  The door swung open and the screen door slammed hard against the frame. Nita closed and locked it, grabbed her iPad from the kitchen drawer and sat down at the table. After taking a deep breath, she opened up her email to send a group message:

  Hi everyone. Just to let you all know, Olive is still living with me and LaTisha. The police know she’s here and I have obtained the legal paperwork to keep her for the time being, so that’s at least settled now. Some of you have asked about her recently so I am giving you an update: Olive has moved around from house to house as you know, but now she’s with me and my daughter until the end of the school year. That’s the new timeline. She will not be moved again, even if her legal custodian, her mother, shows up.

  Olive has expressed she doesn’t wish to be uprooted again. She’s old enough to make that decision. This is the 3rd month of her stay with me. She’s a sweetheart and is a typical teenager, LOL, but has not been any trouble and is helpful when possible. She does isolate herself sometimes. I imagine she is feeling a lot of emotions that many of us have never had to deal with. Prayers help, but so does action.

  I am not getting any financial support from either of her parents or other people in her family, and that’s fine, but if any of you wish to contribute any food or money for her clothing, toiletries, school fees, etc. I would greatly appreciate it. I am a single mother and I have my own child to feed. I understand that the Missing Person’s Report for Holly is still in affect but due to her past history, this could end up in a bad way.

  Let’s pray that it doesn’t. No one has spotted her and from my understanding, she has family and friends all over Michigan, not just Detroit and Saginaw. Holly could also be in Indiana, Ohio, or Kentucky according to her neighbor. Olive’s father hasn’t been in her life much and the latest news about him is that he is in the hospital. I don’t know if that’s true or not and I am not certain for what reason, but that’s what I was told.

  I asked Olive about her father and she stated that she has been in communication with him but she has not heard from him recently. That’s about all I know as of now. Thank you all so much for your concern, prayers and support.

  Nita Percy

  She hit send and set her iPad down. Folding her hands over one another, she got quiet and could hear Olive laughing in her daughter’s room. Perhaps she was watching a funny video on the computer or talking to her boyfriend, a guy she’d been dating the past couple of weeks. Nita stood up, stretched and yawned, then fixed herself a pot of coffee. Soon, the sound of her daughter pulling back up into the driveway broke her train of thought.

  It’s hard being a parent. The hardest job I ever had and I started at sixteen. I was young and foolish, got pregnant not thinking of the ramifications of it, so I was still a child myself. I’ve made mistakes along the way. No parent is perfect, but I’ve done everything I could to provide for my baby, regardless of her father and me being so young when we had her. God makes a way. We just have to meet Him half way. I’m not trying to judge you, Holly, but how could I not? That’s your baby! How could you just up and leave her like that? I imagine addiction and depression make it all the worse for you though. I’ve never had that problem, so it might be unfair to judge you based on something that’s never happened to me. I guess it’s easy to condemn others for a sin that doesn’t tempt us, right? Still though, I couldn’t imagine being away from my child that long… Holly, how could you do something like this? I hate when I overthink like this.

  Nita took a deep breath and tried to shake her emotions but simply could not. Her frustration had been building and building.

  I sit somewhere and my mind just goes crazy. I guess I feel betrayed and confused. You seemed like you had your life together, back on track. I guess looks can be deceiving. You and I were cool, Holly. You coulda told me if something was wrong. I hope you are still alive because trust me, the thought has crossed my mind that you may not even be living anymore. Olive said one night you told her ‘goodnight’ and the following morning, you were nowhere to be found. Forget about me and what I think of you. What’s most important right now is your daughter. You’ve broken that girl’s heart. I pray that this ends well, but I have a bad feeling about it… She deserves better. So much better…

  Drego & Beno’s ‘Slatt Season’ blasted in the beat-up black Honda Accord. Hunter cracked the window as he drove through the slick streets of Detroit. It had been raining all morning, and it had taken about an hour and a half to arrive from Saginaw. That was record time in rush-hour traffic. His friends and family were spread between the two cities, just like so many others that he was cool with. Now he was back in the ‘D’. He had a love-hate relationship with Detroit…

  There were some cool places to go in the city, great clubs and the car shows were amazing, but he seemed to always run into trouble. For one thing, he stuck out like a sore thumb. He was six-foot-five, White, well-built, often wore hoodies and baggy pants, and wasn’t exactly facially expressive, as his grandmother would say. Most of Detroit was Black with pockets of Arabs. His boy Jeremy, a mixed kid who tried to act like he didn’t have a drop of Black in him, called them Sand Niggas. He tossed a little ash from his cigarette out of the window, but the flavor wasn’t quite right. In fact, it just didn’t give him the same pleasure it used to. He contemplated kicking the habit for good. Reaching for his cellphone, he dialed Kylie’s number.

  “Hey…”

  “Hey, what’s up, Wolfe. Are you on your way?” Her voice was choppy, as if she’d been crying.

  “Yeah. I left the house as soon as you called me like I told you I was. Borrowed my brother’s car to get here… Noah moved rooms yet? I should be at the hospital in about…” he checked the time, “fifteen minutes.”

  “Yeah, he’s already moved,” Noah’s sister stated.

  “All right, if he’s awake, tell him I’ll be right there.” He blew smoke out the side of his mouth.

  “I will. See you when you get here.” He disconnected the call. Less than twenty minutes later he was parking in the parking garage of Henry Ford Hospital off West Grand Blvd. Grabbing his wallet and phone, he made his way inside the main lobby.

  “Hey,” he said to the receptionist, a Black woman with coiled, salt and pepper hair. He leaned over the desk. “I’m a good friend of Noah Beemer. I’m supposed to see him today. He’s a patient here. Can you tell me how to get to him?” The receptionist looked him up and down. He couldn’t make out why. Another woman standing close also did. They shot each other an all-knowing glance, as if there was some inside joke he wasn’t privy to, then the one standing turned around, but not before he noticed a big smile on her face.

  The one behind the reception desk began to type on her computer and it wasn’t long before he was directed to ICU. When he reached the hospital door, he paused. T
he sound of the contraptions and devices made odd noises – like robots breathing and fucking hard against rubber tubes and metal. The white and light blue décor was almost blinding, and the bleach odor and strange smells made his stomach tighten. He took a step inside the room, then another. Lying there with his eyes closed in the hospital bed was Noah.

  Dark short hair, slight stubble and gauntness in his face. The sight said it all.

  Fuck… He looks like a fucking skeleton.

  Noah always wore his hair longer, at least to his shoulders. He kept a full beard, too, and he’d always had some weight on him. He’d never been a little guy. Until now. Now, he looked emaciated, a mere fraction of himself. A totally different person. The sound of a toilet flushing dragged his attention away from his friend. Out of the bathroom came Noah’s sister, Kylie, who was pulling at the zipper of her tight jeans.

  “Hey, Noah,” Her long, dirty blonde hair was parted down the middle and tucked behind one ear, showing a small diamond stud earring that looked a bit larger than the one in her nose. She offered a sad smile, paired with sparkling blue eyes. “You’re here.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. He stiffened as his personal space was trampled upon by the young woman. He looked to the side, back towards Noah, and didn’t hug back, uncertain what to do with his damn limbs or what to say. He wasn’t feeling affectionate, kind or loving. He wanted her off him. Now. The heat of her body, the sweetness of the scent of her hair, the way she held on far too long, too tight worked up his nerves. It wasn’t her fault, but he hated it all the same. With a gentle push, he released himself from her grip.

  “Come on over here and have a seat.” The young woman didn’t seem phased by his reluctance. Taking his hand, she led him to a blue chair. It was the same shade of blue of his and Noah’s prison jumpsuits…