Begging for Change

by Sharon Flake

  Su-bok pulls loose strings from her shorts. “Ling and my father sit and talk Korean all day long,” she says, standing and waving to some boys who are breaking their necks to check her out. “In one way I’m like Mai,” she says, “English is good enough for me. Comprendes?” she laughs.

  The three of us sit here for a while. Then Mai says it’s time to leave. Before she takes off, I ask how her lessons are going. Su-bok answers for her. “She has to spend one hour a day speaking Korean with me and Ling.”

  Ling looks both ways before she crosses the street. She sits on Mai’s lap and traces her tattoo with her little fingers. “Can I get one of these?” she asks.

  “You ain’t black,” Mai says.

  Ling looks like she don’t know what Mai’s talking ’bout. “A little bit. I have to be a little bit black, if you’re my cousin. Right?” she says, staring at her arm.

  Su-bok reaches her arms out to Ling. “I’ll get you a tattoo. One for little kids. The big ones hurt. Right, Mai?”

  Mai looks down at her arm. “I guess,” she says, standing up to leave.

  Firecrackers. That’s what Odd Job’s got in his hands when he knocks on our front door.

  “Ain’t they illegal?” I ask, picking up a long, skinny red one, and rubbing some of the powder off. “People lose their eyes and fingers all the time with these things.”

  Odd Job squeezes my nose. “Party pooper,” he says, heading for the refrigerator. Pulling a tub of no-name ice cream out a green plastic garbage bag and putting it in the freezer.

  “The Fourth of July without fireworks is like cake without ice cream. Useless,” he says, heading back out the door and down to the backyard.

  I go to my room, open the window and sit on the ledge with my legs hanging out. It’s nine o’clock at night, and our party is just getting started. Momma calls it our It’s About Time Something Good Happened to Us party, in celebration of the new place we’re moving to.

  Our yard looks like one of those department store windows. Momma’s got red Christmas lights strung along the inside of the wooden fence; circling our tree and twisted around some of the branches. Long thin poles with cups of fire hanging from ’em are stuck in the ground. Red, white, and blue Christmas bulbs are stacked in clear plastic bowls on three tables she borrowed from Miz Evelyn. And all the people who come in get a red, white, or blue shooting star drawn on their cheeks in glitter paint by Ja’nae.

  We ain’t never had a party before. But people are gonna be talking about this one forever. Momma cooked up a storm. Grilled chicken, burgers, and hot dogs. Made potato salad, fruit salad, and a tuna mold shaped like a cat. Mai’s mom brought over egg rolls and fortune cookies. Dr. Mitchell went to the bakery and brought cakes and pies. Me and Ja’nae made lemonade, iced tea, and Kool-Aid. Sato brought over six cans of warm red pop, but I didn’t crack on him. It’s the thought that counts.

  I swing my legs just over my window ledge. Feel the hot air blow over me. Close my eyes and smell the lavender blooming like crazy all over our backyard.

  Ming and Ja’nae are sitting by the fence, pointing up at the fireworks that the city just set off. Odd Job is playing spades with his girlfriend Donyell, Momma, Dr. Mitchell, Ming’s mom and dad, Su-bok, Ling, and Miz Evelyn from across the street.

  Sato and Ling are playing with Couch when Sato points at me and says, “I’m coming up,” with Couch following behind.

  My bedroom is a mess. You can see dirty socks, jeans, and T-shirts shoved under my bed from when Momma told me to clean up earlier. But I don’t try to straighten things now. I reach over, dim the lights, and hope Sato don’t trip over nothing.

  Couch licks my fingers when I pat his head. Sato sits down next to me. “Man,” he says pointing up at the sky, “why can’t we have fireworks all the time?”

  I nod my head up and down. I look over at him and see red and white lights in his eyes just when more firecrackers explode way up above us.

  Sato tells me to move closer to him, then he puts his arm around my shoulder. I look down to see if Momma’s watching. She’s busy showing Ja’nae her plants. Odd Job’s busy telling Dr. Mitchell that he needs to stick to doctoring ’cause he sure can’t play no cards, so them two ain’t paying me no attention, neither.

  Sato asks me about Zora. How come she ain’t here. I tell him she’s at her mom’s for the weekend. Her mother’s planning a trip to London and Zora gets to go.

  Sato’s sitting so close to me I can’t even look up, or I’m gonna be staring right into his nose. So I swallow, then clear my throat, and wonder if my breath stinks.

  We sit there, stiff as the poles holding the fire in the backyard. Then he leans over and tries to kiss me. I turn away, and ask Couch if he’s hungry. “For some ribs or barbecued chicken,” I say, rubbing his tail.

  Sato leans over. “All those flowers your mom planted,” he says, pointing around the whole yard, “make it look like your yard don’t even belong around here,” he says. “Like somebody stole it from Pecan Landings and is hiding it here.”

  My eyes follow his fingers. I smile when I see the row of orange begonias I planted by the fence the other day, and the pink, white, and red rosebushes that been growing like crazy all summer. “That bushy thing that looks like weeds is lavender,” I tell him. “And the blue stuff over there crawling all over the fence is morning glory.”

  Sato takes my hand and points to a corner of the yard with tall things growing in it. “What’s that?” he asks.

  But he tricks me, and before I can answer him he kisses me—right on the lips—just like Ming and Ja’nae. I ain’t never been kissed before.

  When I open my eyes, he’s staring straight at me.

  “Your eyes is supposed to be closed,” I tell him, kicking my legs out like I’m high up on a swing.

  He’s smiling. “Why?”

  “Because.”

  “Well, I like mine open,” he says, taking his arm from around my shoulder and holding my hand.

  I kick my feet out again. “Who you kissed before?”

  He rubs the little hairs over his lip. “Just you,” he says soft and low.

  I feel his fingers cover mine, and his lips get close again. My heart is tick, tick, ticking in my chest. My head is spinning, for real, from the sweet smell coming from the cologne on his neck and the flowers in the yard.

  “Sato! You crazy, boy?” Dr. Mitchell says, just when Sato’s soft lips touch mine again.

  Sato stares down, then over at me, then down into the yard again.

  “You! Down here! Now!” Momma says, jumping up from the table. Shaking her fist in the air.

  Everyone in the whole yard is staring up at us. “Busted!” Ming yells out.

  “Man!” Sato says, helping me off the window ledge and holding my hand all the way to the front door. I stop him in the vestibule. “They gonna jump all over you,” I say, talking ’bout Momma, Odd Job, and Dr. Mitchell.

  “That’s all right,” he says, looking me right in the eyes. “You was worth it.”

  Before Sato even gets one foot in the backyard, Odd Job grabs him by the arm and says he needs to talk to him a minute. Momma got me over here in the corner saying that it’s not right for a girl to have a boy in her room. “I know you think it was only a kiss,” she says, tucking my hair behind my ear. “But remember, you are just fourteen. There will be plenty of time for things like that when you’re older.”

  I tell Momma that she can trust me. Then I go over by the bushes near the fence, close my eyes, and remember how good it felt being kissed by Sato.

  “Sato’s your boyfriend,” Ling says, sneaking up on me. Reaching out her arms so I can pick her up.

  Dr. Mitchell is minding my business again. Pinching Ling’s cheeks, and saying, “Raspberry’s too young to have a boyfriend.”

  “She kissed him. Like this,” Ling says, taking off her glasses, pushing her lips out, then pressing ’em to my cheek so hard it hurts. “Ouch,” she cries, holding her mouth. “I bit my to
ngue.” She tells Su-bok she wants a Band-Aid.

  Su-bok is with Ja’nae and Ming. “You don’t need a Band-Aid, Ling,” she says, coming over and looking inside her mouth. “Stop bugging me.”

  “You say mean things, just like Mai,” Ling says, squeezing my neck tight.

  When Sato walks over to us, Ling almost jumps outta my arms trying to get to him.

  He got his arms stretched out to her, but his eyes on me. “Don’t fall,” he says, yanking her by the cornrows Ja’nae put in two days ago.

  Su-bok takes a swig of soda, then says she wishes Mai was here.

  Mai is on punishment for smart-mouthing her dad again. Su-bok stands up on a crate, and looks over the fences at Miracle and ’em. They been hanging out there for the last three days. Partying half the night. Setting trash cans on fire and playing music so loud Momma almost called the cops. I asked Momma not to say nothing to ’em. To just let us move from ’round here and not think no more about ’em. She said that wasn’t hard. She was tired after all that nonsense with Shiketa. “Besides. I gotta think about you. I’m not here all the time. Don’t want Miracle starting up with you while I’m gone.”

  “Hey. Cops,” Su-bok says.

  Ming tells her to move over and he stands on the chair behind her. Sato just opens the gate. “To get a better look.”

  Momma’s inside with Odd Job and Dr. Mitchell getting more food and ice. So we all sneak out, even though Mrs. Kim and Miz Evelyn say we shouldn’t. It’s Miracle, in trouble again. Some boy is holding her hands behind her back. Telling her to cool down ’fore the cops haul her away. When she sees me, she goes off. Starts cussing. Asking us what we looking at. She’s yelling at me, saying she still gonna kick my butt for getting her girl put away.

  Ja’nae’s the one who says we need to get Ling back inside. Ling keeps asking what the girl did wrong. None of us answer her.

  “Hey, Miracle,” Sato yells. “You gonna need a miracle to get outta this one.”

  I pop him on the head, and ask him if he trying to get me killed.

  Momma comes out front too and so does Dr. Mitchell. He’s standing behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist. “A young girl like that, what does she have to be mad about all the time?” he says, taking Momma’s hand and pressing it to his cheek.

  We all walk back inside after the cops settle Miracle down and tell her she better make sure she don’t find no more trouble tonight.

  Momma tells all of us to get a glass or can of something ’cause she wants to make a toast. “To good times . . . and good friends,” she says, holding her can of red pop up in the air.

  Ming’s got his right arm wrapped around Ja’nae’s neck. He touches her glass with his, then to mine and Sato’s too. “Yeah,” he says. “Here’s to all that stuff you just said.”

  At midnight, we set off the fireworks. Ja’nae, me, and Ling hold hands and run around the yard in circles holding sparkles high in the air. When mines burns out, I go get another one. Sato’s right behind me, whispering. “I liked it . . . kissing you.”

  I take a deep breath. I look at all the pretty lights in the yard, and listen to everyone laughing and talking. “Me too,” I say loud enough for even Momma to hear.

  It took us all week to clean up from the party. That’s okay, though, ’cause I ain’t never gonna forget how much fun I had. Ja’nae and ’em are still talking about it. Asking me when I’m gonna get off punishment for kissing Sato. I tell ’em that I don’t know. Momma ain’t saying just yet.

  It’s different now, between Sato and me. When we at Odd Job’s, he stares at me all the time. I can feel his eyes on me even when my back is turned. Every once in a while, Odd Job grabs him by the ears. “I ain’t paying you to stare at Raspberry, boy. I’m paying you to work.” Then Odd Job comes over to me and smiles. “Now you done ruined him for good,” he says. “His mind used to be on work, now it’s on you. Might have to fire that boy.”

  I tell Odd Job not to do that. Sato is making money so he can give some to his mom. “It ain’t his fault—”

  “That you’re so pretty,” Odd Job says, pulling me by my hair. I wore it down today. It’s sticking to my neck, itching me in all this heat. But Sato says he likes it this way.

  Sato’s soaking wet with sweat. On our way home, he stops by an open fireplug and sits down under it. His sneakers bubble up every time he takes a step. “Feels good,” he says, squeezing water from his shorts while we walking.

  I’m trying to think of something to say to him, but words won’t come out my mouth. All I do is smile. All he does is stare at me, then look at the ground. A few blocks away he stops and points. “Ain’t that your dad over there?”

  My heart starts pounding. I look up. There he is, sitting on the curb. Leaning against a big plastic trash can. Legs spread wide open. Head down. No shirt. No shoes. No shame, I think.

  “That cop’s gonna bust that bum’s head wide open,” some man says, like he just can’t wait for it to happen.

  I look over and see a cop car pull up, lights flashing.

  “I hope he don’t crack your father one with that nightstick,” Sato says to me.

  “Let’s go,” I tell him. But my feet ain’t moving.

  Sato takes my hand. “Maybe he’s hurt or something.”

  “Drunk, or trying to come down from that mess he been taking,” I say. “You staying? I’m not,” I snap.

  We start walking. Sato’s still looking back at Daddy.

  “Get up,” the cop says to Daddy. “You can’t stay here.”

  Daddy starts throwing punches. Out comes the nightstick. Next thing you know, the cop whacks him upside the head. Blood runs down the side of his face.

  “Don’t hit my father!” I scream, running over to him.

  “Girl,” another police officer says, holding my hand up in the air, “you better calm yourself.”

  I’m not afraid of him. “He’s sick. Why you hitting him just ’cause he’s sick?”

  Daddy’s blood is so dark it almost looks black. It’s all over the place. On his shorts. Dripping onto the concrete. Squished between the gloved fingers of the other cop trying to cuff him now.

  I bend down and whisper in his ear. “Daddy. It’s Raspberry. You hear me?” I say, taking the tip of my shirt and wiping blood out his eye.

  He lifts up his head and looks at me with one eye. “Hey, baby girl.”

  The cop pulls me by the arm. “This your father?”

  I nod my head yes. Watch another cop car pull up to the curb, lights flashing.

  “Well. You can visit him at County. He’s going to jail.”

  Traffic on Madigan Street ain’t hardly moving. Everybody is staring at us. A man in a gray suit and gray sunglasses yells out his window, “Lock the drunk up.”

  I look down at the blood on my shirt and my sneakers.

  “Raspberry,” Daddy says, when they get him to his feet and make him walk over to the squad car. “I love you, Raspberry Girl.”

  I look at him. He ain’t wearing shoes and his feet are black and blistered. My stomach flips. My mouth tastes like acid. Next thing I know, vomit is coming out my mouth and nose. The cop is cursing, saying this is the way his whole stinking day has been going.

  I can hear Daddy cursing at the cops, saying to take his cuffs off so he can make sure that I’m all right. They shove him in the car anyway.

  Soft, warm fingers start to rub my back and shoulders. Then a woman says for me to relax and just let it all out. “You’ll feel better when you’re done,” she says, handing me a bunch of tissues. She wipes my face and mouth, opens her half-empty bottle of water and hands it to me. I shake my head no, at first. Germs, I think. But I take and drink it anyway. Every drop.

  The woman walks off and leaves me when another policeman comes over and asks, “Is he really your father?”

  I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Yeah,” I say, feeling Sato move closer to me.

  “Get in,” the cop tells me, opening the door. �
��I’ll take you both home.”

  I look at him. “Home?” I say. “But he don’t live . . .”

  The cop smacks his lips. “He goes with you or he goes to County. Loitering is an offense. I can lock him up or take him home. What’s it gonna be?”

  The tall cop is me and Daddy’s color, with moles all over his face. He looks hot in his tight, blue uniform. Mad, too.

  “Raspberry,” Daddy says, begging me. “All I need is a little time to clean up and sleep this off.”

  I think about my money. How he ain’t mind stealing it from me before. “No,” I say, turning my back on him.

  “Let’s go, buddy,” the cop says, pushing Daddy.

  “Raspberry,” Daddy says. “Please?”

  My tongue rolls over my teeth and I smash my lips together when I feel myself ready to say for him to come go with me.

  “I’m gonna quit. For real I am,” he says, staring over at me.

  My father has the prettiest eyes when he ain’t on that stuff. “They the color of honey, with splashes of green,” a lady at the grocery store told him once. They cloudy now, like the eyes of the old, slimy fish they try to sell you at the market, long after they shoulda trashed ’em.

  “Momma ain’t gonna like you coming to our place,” I say, giving the cop the name of our street.

  The policeman tells me to get in the car. Sato too. In a few minutes, he’s pulling up to our place. He don’t even help me get Daddy to the door. Me and Sato do that.

  “We coulda locked him up,” one of ’em says, leaning out the car window. “You caught us on a good day, I guess,” he laughs. The woman on the police radio starts talking. The siren and lights go on. The car pulls away from the curb and goes up the street real fast—almost hitting somebody’s car—trying hard to get off our street.

  “You can’t stay here!” I say to my father.

  He’s crawling to the top of my bed. Rolling onto his stomach and pushing my hand away when I say he’s gotta go.

  We just got here, but I already changed my mind about helping him out. Momma’s gonna find out and go nuts again. Then she ain’t gonna trust me never, no more.