“So, you and Miss Casey Haughton got along pretty good, I hear?” he asked, surprising Junior. “Received a call this morning. Still don’t know how she got the number.” He laughed. “She told me you were special. I never met her, personally, but I heard about what happened to her. How are you holding up?”
Exhaling in defeat, Junior sagged his head.
“Man…sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe,” he said. “But I wouldn’t have made it this far here at Medgar without Casey. She’s the one that’s special. Not me. I’m just a broke kid from Philly.”
Pausing, Brother Gay nodded in sanction of him.
“Your humility is out of this world, Junior,” he said. “Do you love her?”
“W-What?!” Junior stuttered.
“Now, don’t get cute with me, son.” His tone straightened. “Do you or not?”
Turning pink with teenage awkwardness, Junior’s stomach began to boil as his soul rose from the depths of him, dancing inside of his body at the thought of Casey’s impact on him. Looking for words, Junior found none.
“You do, don’t you?” he pressed. “That’s OK, son. Love is good a thing. I’m not accusing you of being in love. Loving someone and being in love are two different things.”
Relieved, Junior exhaled again as Brother Gay laughed and touched him on the shoulder.
“Don’t ever wait to tell someone you love them.” He handed Junior a row of quarters from his pocket. “The opportunity that exists today may not be here tomorrow. Enjoy your lunch.”
On his way to make a phone call, Junior stopped at the door.
“Oh, one last thing,” Junior asked. “Yo, whatever happened to Mrs. Hawkins?”
Brother Gay approached Junior at the door.
“Like I told you, she moved on,” he said. “To the House of the Lord. Passed away while you were out. See what I mean? Life moves fast.” He clasped Junior on the arm. “Why don’t you make that call to Casey?”
Heeding Brother Gay’s advice, Junior pulled out the receipt with Casey’s phone number and approached the payphone outside of the school’s cafeteria. Unfortunately for Junior, there was a line of six students ahead of him. The closer Junior got to the phone, the more the “L” word became a reality, and the more nervous he became. As soon as he reached second in the queue, the bell sounded, ending lunch. Discouraged, he returned to his class on the fourth-floor. As Junior approached the door with a look of defeat, Brother Gay stopped to ask him about his recent phone call.
“Line was too long,” said Junior. “I’ll call her later.”
Brother Gay reached into his pants pocket and handed Junior his cell phone for him to use. He scrolled to his recent calls to highlight Casey’s number, raised the antenna on his brick phone, and passed it to Junior.
“My nighttime minutes don’t start until six.” He eyeballed Junior. “Can you make it quick?”
Armed with Brother Gay’s cell, Junior raced down to room 328 where he and Casey used to meet and placed a call. When she didn’t pick up, junior started to leave, dejected. But just then the phone rang and when he answered, it was Casey.
There, in his secret hiding space, Junior revealed to Casey what had been on his heart.
“I love you, Casey,” he told her. “I should’ve told you the other night when you stopped by, but I was too nervous. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or for things to get awkward. But you’ve done so much for my life. I just can’t imagine life without seeing you every day. You’re my best friend…hello? Yo…are you there?”
“You know you just killed me with that, right?” She chuckled into the line. “Got me cryin’ and stuff – you know I don’t like to cry, J. Only for you. And I love you, too. Of course. How’d you convince Brother Gay to let you borrow his cell?”
“I told ‘em what was on my mind,” Junior charmed. “He said ‘love shouldn’t wait.’”
“Nope,” she sighed. “So, what are you doing Friday? We should go see the tree at Rockefeller Plaza. Wanna go?”
“Man, my folks ain’t gonna let me go to no New York! We barely leave Brooke’s Rowe, let alone Philly. Plus, it’s expensive.”
“Will you just ask, please? Let me know by tomorrow. If so, I gotta get bus tickets.”
After the two hung up, Junior’s heart felt lighter as a smile appeared on his face. He loved Casey, and she loved him back.
Later, when Junior’s parents arrived to pick him up from school, he asked if he could see the Christmas lights at Rockefeller Plaza with Casey on that Friday, just a few days before Christmas. Surprisingly for him, Sandy didn’t say “no”. She told him “hell no”. New York was too far away for him to stray from home during the Christmas holidays at age fourteen without being accompanied by either of them. Senior doubled down in agreement. He said that New York City was twice the size of Philly and “full of crazy-ass motherfuckas worse than the ones we got here in Brooke’s Rowe.” As a consolation, Sandy offered to extend an invitation to Casey to come by the house for a chaperoned pre-Christmas dinner.
“Why do I need an extra chaperone with Casey?” asked Junior. “She’s over twenty-one.”
“Because girls are much faster than boys!” said Sandy. “We don’t know that woman that well, Junior. Suppose she tries to kidnap you? Take you somewhere in an alley up there and nobody knows where the hell you are?”
“Man, Casey ain’t gonna kidnap nobody. That’s crazy!”
“Hey!” Senior howled, pounding onto the wheel. “What did your mother just say?!”
Sulking the rest of the way home, Junior avoided his parents for much of the night. With his lips buttoned, he floated around the house in anger over the ruling. Disappointed, he decided to make a sacrifice by not eating dinner that night. Instead, he loaded his belly with a bag of stale popcorn from beside his bed and a flat can of Coca-Cola on his nightstand. Later, as Sandy entered to kiss him goodnight, Junior returned a lipless kiss to his mother. As he went to brush his teeth for the night, he passed by his daddy in the hallway outside his bedroom. Senior glared at him throughout the awkward confrontation, refusing to back down from the Mexican standoff. As Junior attempted to squeeze by, Senior eventually moved to the side.
“New York my ass,” Senior muttered as Junior went by.
In the bathroom mirror, Junior contemplated breaking the unfortunate news to Casey that their plans for New York had been canceled. Unable to find the words, he returned to his room window, threw on his Walkman, and frowned into the chilly, Philly night.
True love hurts sometimes
like new shoes out of a box.
Some shoes fit just right.
Some shoes don’t fit at all.
Some shoes last a lifetime,
and some shoes only a nighttime.
Yearn a love that feels good
to stand and walk in
with warm cushy soles
that escort you to your dreams.
—LEONARD G. ROBINSON JR.
Ten
It was just after 3 a.m. Thursday morning when Junior awoke to Sandy busting through his bedroom and turning on his room light. With her favorite plaid suitcase in one hand and her winter coat in the other, she ordered Junior out of bed. “Get dressed! We’re leaving!”
Junior, still bleary from the abrupt disturbance, rose out of bed to fetch the closest pair of wrinkled jeans and hooded jacket he could find. He barely got one leg inside his pants before Senior came gliding up the staircase in a wrath. Knocking pictures from the wall, his wide nostrils flaring like a rabid bull, he charged after Sandy who was attempting to take the one thing he had left in this world, his surviving son and namesake, Junior. “Fuck you!” he hollered.
“Fuck me?! Nigga, fuck you!” Sandy screamed back at him. “I should’ve never married your sorry black ass!”
Half-awake, Junior thought he was seeing things that morning, as he watched his daddy go to his nightstand and retrieve his .38 revolver. With his finger on the trigger, Senior pointed
it at their bedroom television set.
“I’ll shoot every TV in this motherfucka!” he threatened. “You ain’t takin’ my son!”
“You ain’t gonna shoot shit!” dared Sandy. “You ain’t got the heart!”
For the life of him, Junior couldn’t understand why his mother would say such a thing knowing his daddy was a lunatic. Sweat glazing from his greasy forehead, Senior fired one round into their thirty-two-inch, color television inside their bedroom. Sparks danced and sizzled inside the mangled box for nearly a minute before a teepee of smoke withered the air. The shot startled Junior awake as Sandy ducked behind Junior’s dresser. Her eyes were as big as a goldfish.
“You’re a crazy son of a bitch!” Sandy gasped.
From the master bedroom, Senior continued his rampage throughout the house as Sandy carefully followed behind her unstable husband. Senior didn’t shoot any more TVs that night, but he lifted the living room couch over his head and punched a hole through the drywall. Their tiny rowhouse began to cry as dust fell onto the rug. Soon after, he grabbed the keys to his pickup truck and marched outside as Sandy went running after him.
“Where you goin’?! Don’t nobody want your dumb ass but me!” She marched behind her salty husband, talking shit. From his room window and with one leg hanging from his jeans, Junior watched his parents argue in the middle of Kennedy Street. At one point, Sandy picked up a piece of brick from their garden and threaten to bust Senior over the head. Ignoring her, Senior started up his truck and left. Soon after, the cops arrived with flashing lights and sirens loud enough to wake all of Brooke’s Rowe. Later, Junior found out that a concerned neighbor had phoned the police. The argument between Junior’s parents had begun over Christmas lights.
On his way to school that morning, Junior rode next to his mother without a word, careful not to set her off. It took nothing to set Junior’s parents ablaze. Over money, they’d tear into each other like ravenous wolves. Over him, he worried next time they might kill each other. For Junior, it was all the more reason he realized he hated Philadelphia – and why a break to see the tree at Rockefeller Plaza in New York sounded to him like a voyage around the world.
When Sandy’s Buick arrived at his school, Junior leaned over to kiss his mother on the cheek and told her he loved her. The night before, he had thought about smooth-talking his way into visiting New York with Casey. After the blow-up between his parents, however, Junior decided to settle for pre-Christmas dinner at the house with Casey. All that was left on his mind about Friday’s dinner was to hope that a roach wouldn’t show up to celebrate.
As Junior went to get out of the car, Sandy called him back to the door.
“I’m really sorry about last night, Junior,” she apologized. “We shouldn’t have been actin’ like two animals. That’s unacceptable, and I’m sorry – for both of us. Have a good day, OK?”
Junior kissed his mother again and then walked into Medgar. After all that, have a good day? He laughed to himself.
Remove every cloud from the sky.
Give me the sun.
Let it shine bright over me,
shadowing my every move,
illuminating my awakened soul
from the horrendous cold night.
LEONARD G. ROBINSON
Empire Lie
In the afternoon before Junior’s class was dismissed, Brother Gay passed around a blank sheet of paper to each of his students and asked them to write down the name of a relative or friend close to them. Junior wrote: Senior, Sandy, Lawrence, then added Casey. Brother Gay asked every student to hold the paper high so he could walk around and see these names. When he got to Junior, he glanced at Casey’s name and smirked at him. He then asked each student to crumble up their paper. The kids enjoyed this part of the lesson. Some made makeshift joints or paper airplanes while others did as was instructed. Brother Gay then challenged the class to straighten their papers. Junior’s OCD kicked in immediately. He worked overtime as he attempted to unbend the sharp creases – all to the amusement of his peers. Brother Gay walked over to him and placed a hand on Junior’s shoulder to stop him.
“As you all can see,” said Brother Gay, “Brother Junior here is serious about restoring the things most dear to him, as evidenced by his resiliency.”
Junior got the joke and stopped.
“But you can’t restore what’s taken away from you!” Brother Gay raised his voice as he circled around the room. “That’s how a victim feels! Crumbled. Lost. Dead to the world! They’ll never be the same, no matter how much you try; the hurt will always be there. Think about that when you’re out there in the street. Look down at the papers in front of you with the names of the people dearest to you, young brothers and sisters,” he continued. “What paper is your name on? Will it be a diploma or a death certificate before your twenty-first birthday? Which one?! Take control while you can.”
Most of Junior’s class didn’t get Brother Gay’s dry sense of humor, but Junior did. To some, Brother Gay was just an uppity cat with a fancy vocabulary who referred to God as “Allah” and overused analogies. Like Casey, he was crazy about Junior and the direction of most young black boys there at Medgar Evers Secondary School. Despite his candor, he commanded the attention of Junior’s class with his realness and diction. Unlike Mrs. Hawkins, he talked to his students and not at them. One morning, Brother Gay was summoned into Mr. Levy’s office, leaving his steaming cup of gas station coffee unattended. Junior’s classmates eyed one another, seeing who would be the first to welcome Brother Gay to Medgar. Surveying the room, not a single student left their seat. Shortly thereafter, Junior’s teacher returned and finished his unsoiled beverage.
Brother Gay was the perfect balance of adult and mature youth, which made him relatable to the students at Medgar. For Junior, his new teacher was a blend of both his parents and Casey: he had an educated, take-no-prisoners attitude with an amicable spirit. His good-natured character would eventually thrust him into the crosshairs of Mr. Levy, who seemed more interested in recruiting robotic staff members to his infantry.
When the day ended, Junior climbed into Sandy’s car and asked his mother if she had heard back from Senior. The look on Sandy’s face told him that his daddy hadn’t called. Junior spent the remainder of the ride home wondering if his parents’ overdue breakup was a reality. For years, the Robinsons had flirted with the possibility of separating. After twenty-two years of marriage and the death of a child – all while living barely above the poverty line – a divorce seemed imminent.
Occasionally during the ride home, Junior attempted to make conversation with Sandy but failed miserably. Again, he thought of bringing up seeing New York with Casey but decided against it. Watching his daddy shoot out the TV the night before along with the silent car ride was convincing to Junior to let it go. Having Casey over for dinner, he decided, would be better than not having Casey at all.
As Junior and his mother turned onto Kennedy Street, Junior spotted his daddy’s truck parked in front of the house. A smile grew on his young face as he stared down Senior’s truck.
As soon as Junior and his mother exited the car, the door to the Robinsons’ house opened and Senior stood on the porch, glaring at Sandy as she gave it back. Unsure whether his parents would fight or make up, Junior positioned himself in the middle of his parents in case a brawl ensued. As they sized up each other, Senior walked down the stairs and over to Sandy as she slowly backed away, unsure what was on her husband’s mind. Towering over her, Senior pinned Sandy against her Buick; she cracked into an inviting smile as Senior smiled back and the two embraced and kissed. It was their first kiss since burying Lawrence the summer before. Just as their lips came together, the Robinsons’ phone began to ring. “Junior, get that, will ya?” Senior asked him, preoccupied with his wife’s reunion. In the kitchen, Junior looked down at his caller ID. The caller was none other than his big sissy, Casey. She was calling to confirm their New York appointment scheduled for the next morning.
<
br /> “So, what’d they say?” she asked him. “What time am I pickin’ you up?”
Disappointed, Junior breathed into the phone. “Maaaaan,” he began.
“Uh oh,” said Casey. “What happened? They shoot us down?”
“Shoot us down?” he laughed nervously. “Nah, I was saying ‘maaaaan’ as in, ‘Maaaaan, I can’t find anything to wear!’” he explained. “I-I’m good. I can go…yup. Can’t wait…Can you meet me at Medgar before the bell?”
“Of course. I’ll give Mrs. Robinson our itinerary in the morning. Yo, we’re gonna have so much fun, J., I’ve got a whole day planned for us. You’re gonna love it!”
After dinner that evening, Junior paced throughout his bedroom, knowing he had twenty-four hours left to live if his parents found out about New York. Right before bed, both Senior and Sandy entered his room to apologize for the other night. Holding hands, they assured Junior they would stay together and that the new year would be better. Sandy then kissed Junior on the forehead as Senior looked on proudly.
“Been a little rough, but things’ll get better for us, Junior – and you too,” he said.
Just as his daddy said that a moth landed in Junior’s belly as he attempted to work up the nerve to tell his parents of what he’d done. New York was a big city. Bigger than Brooke’s Rowe or any other part of Philly he’d seen. As his parents left the room for the night, Junior decided to spend the final hours before his execution indulging in his favorite pastime.
From the shoreline, I sea waves that gladly wave back at me.
I am ready to sail the world.
LEONARD G. ROBINSON JR.
New York
On Friday, December 22, 1995, Junior arrived at Medgar Evers Secondary School for his last day of class before winter break. As he mulled over the decision whether to go through with his big lie along the way, he kissed Sandy on the cheek and headed straight to room 454 to ask Brother Gay for advice. With Casey on the way to get him, there was still time for him to do the right thing.
“As an adult, as a teacher, and as a parent, hell no!” Brother Gay began. “However, as a friend, as a mentor, and a dreamer,” he continued, “it’s a great opportunity to see something new.”
Beyond Poetry Page 18
