Something Noble

by William Kowalski

  I knock several times, but there’s no answer at first. I was ready for that too. She probably thinks I’m a cop.

  “Who is it?” a voice finally says from inside.

  “Miz Johnson, my name is Linda Gonzalez. Can I talk to you?”

  “What you want?”

  “I need to talk to you about Terrell Jones.”

  “Terrell? The hell with Terrell!”

  “I agree,” I say. “Miz Johnson, I need your help bad. Can I please talk to you a minute? I have to ask you something about your boy LeVon.”

  For a while I don’t hear anything. Then the door opens. She stands before me, a tiny black woman with frazzled hair. She doesn’t look too good. She’s some kind of user, I think. Maybe not the hard stuff. Maybe just booze. But she’s not holding down a nine-to-five, that’s for sure. She’s blinking like she hasn’t seen daylight in a while.

  “What you wanna know about LeVon?” she demands.

  “I need to find him,” I say. “Terrell and I had a child together sixteen years ago. His name is Dre.”

  “If you woulda come to me first, I woulda told you stay away from Terrell Jones,” Angelique announces. She puts one hand on her hip, and her head starts bopping side to side. “That fool ain’t nothin’ but trouble.”

  “I know that,” I say. “Here’s the thing. My son needs blood. And he has a rare blood type. Same kind your son has.” I just told my first lie in years. It doesn’t feel great. But it’s only a little one. And Angelique isn’t really listening to me anyway. She’s the kind of person who only cares about her own problems.

  “Yeah? You need to find LeVon? Good luck. Only time I ever see that boy is when he wants money. He ain’t been around lately ’cause I got none to give him. As you can see.” She spreads her arms out, as if to show me her entire life. I look past her into the house. It’s a mess. There’s hardly any furniture. Just a bunch of trash. And lots more empty bottles.

  “How old is your son?” I ask.

  “He’s eighteen. No, wait, he’s nineteen now.”

  That means Terrell already had a son when he met me. I never knew that, of course. He didn’t say a word.

  “Terrell never told me about you,” I say.

  “Where he at? He owes me child support.”

  I tell her where Terrell is at. “Good luck getting it,” I add. “He never paid me a dime either.”

  Angelique stares me up and down. For a moment I think she’s going to get hostile. I’m her rival in getting child support from Terrell. But then her expression changes.

  “What do I care? Ain’t neither of us ever gonna see a dime from that deadbeat,” she says.

  “Yeah, you’re right there,” I say. “Some guys oughta just be kept away from women.”

  “I’ll tell you where LeVon hangs,”she says. “Go down to the projects here. The one with the big fountain out in front that don’t run anymore. You see a bunch of punks hanging around, one of them is LeVon. That’s where he is every day.”

  I know exactly where she’s talking about. It’s one of the most notorious places in the city. Shootings, stabbings, drug deals, you name it. It all goes down at the Fountain.

  Normally it’s the kind of place I would steer away from. But if Dre’s life depends on it, I’m going in, full steam ahead.

  “What’s he look like?”

  “Tall like Terrell. Face just like him too. You know Terrell, you’ll know LeVon.”

  “Thank you, Angelique,” I say. And as I turn to leave, I add, “Good luck.” Because I think she needs it even more than I do.

  “Hey,” she croaks as I’m walking away.

  I turn again. I already know what she’s going to ask.

  “You think you could help a sister out? I’m in a bad way. Look at me.” She stares at me with a zombie’s eyes. She’s holding her hand out, and it’s trembling. “Terrell left me high and dry,” she says.

  Yeah, nineteen years ago, I want to say. What have you done for yourself since then?

  Instead I reach into my purse and give her my last five dollars. I seriously cannot afford to do this. And I know she’s just going to drink it. But I feel like I owe her something.

  She snatches the money out of my hand and sticks it inside her bra. She doesn’t even say thank you. She just scuttles back into the house like a crab into its shell, and the door slams shut.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Every big city has housing projects like ours. It’s where they stick the people who can’t afford to live anywhere. Everyone here is getting money from the government somehow. Welfare, food stamps, rent subsidy, something.

  All these safety nets are a good thing. But they were never meant to keep people going forever. They’re just supposed to use them until they can stand on their own. Yet poverty is a state of mind. And that’s the hardest thing of all to change.

  I know, because I grew up in a place just like this. And I was on welfare until I was twenty-six years old.

  The big fountain Angelique was talking about is still dry. The city put it in a while ago to give the kids a place to cool off in the summers. It gets pretty hot around here. The buildings block all the breezes.

  But then they turned the water off to save money. I guess they figured they were already spending too much on the people of the projects. So now the fountain is just a big concrete bowl where people gather day and night. It’s full of needles, bottles, crack pipes, and all kinds of other nasty stuff. And sitting around the edges are a bunch of young men who by this time next year are going to be either six feet underground or behind bars.

  A single woman would be out of her mind to walk into this scene on her own. As recently as last week, I would have been too scared to do it. But I have a new purpose now. I need to find LeVon.

  So I hang back by the street for a little while, looking for a tall young man among the seven or eight who are hanging out by the fountain’s edge. Every once in a while some crackhead comes stumbling up and has a conversation with one of them. Then there is a whistle, and a little kid comes running out of one of the buildings with a bag in his hand. The dealer gives it to the crackhead. The crackhead gives the dealer cash. The dealer gives the cash to the kid. The kid runs back into the building with it, where he probably sticks it under a bed or something. This is how they make sure they have nothing on them if they get busted.

  So they have children running drugs for them. Great. Just my kind of people.

  LeVon is not too hard to spot. He stands about six inches above his fellow dealers. And the similarity to Terrell is obvious. What’s weird is that he looks a lot like Dre too. He’s got the same slope to his shoulders and the same loose way of moving.

  And there’s something else about LeVon that surprises me. I see it as I start heading in his direction. I don’t want to believe it at first. I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. But as I get closer, I can see it really is him.

  LeVon is the one who mugged me last year. Right in front of my own house.

  When I realize this, I don’t know if I can go on. The terror I felt that day washes over me in a cold wave.

  It was broad daylight, about three o’clock in the afternoon. I never saw him coming. I was unloading a bag of groceries from my car. When I closed the door and turned around, there he was. His knife was already in his hand. He was wearing a hat pulled down low. He held the knife casually, like he wouldn’t think twice about using it.

  “Gimme it,” he said.

  I knew what he wanted. I dropped my groceries and went for my wallet. He tried to grab the whole thing, but I backed up, shaking my head.

  “No,” I said. “Please. Just take my cash. Here.”

  I was so scared my hands were shaking. But I got my money out and handed it over. He looked me up and down, like he was trying to decide what else to take. That’s what really chilled me. The way he looked at me—like I wasn’t even a person.

  Then he was gone.

  I didn’t even bother calling the police.
No point. They’re not there to protect poor people from each other. They’re there to keep the poor away from the rich.

  So here I am, walking toward this person now. The guys on the fountain are just sitting there, waiting for something to happen. When they see me, they elbow each other. I go straight up to him.

  “LeVon?” I say.

  He looks at me. Then he stands up. I don’t think he recognizes me.

  “What up?” he says.

  “Are you LeVon?” I ask.

  “Who the hell are you?” he says. “What you want?”

  The terror of that moment comes back to me again. I remember how afraid I was that he was going to hurt me. I wasn’t worried for myself. All I could think about was Marco and Dre. I couldn’t leave them alone in this life. They had it hard enough already. They were all I thought about then, and they’re all I think about now.

  I lose my nerve. This whole thing is a mistake. Why did I think this would work? I can’t just approach a total stranger and ask him for a kidney. It’s insane. I’m an idiot.

  I turn and start to walk away, fast.

  But I should have known I couldn’t get away that easy. I can hear his footsteps behind me.

  “Hey!” he says. “Who are you? You better start talking right now!”

  And suddenly he’s in front of me. I realize there’s no walking away from this one. I’m in this far. I have to finish what I started now.

  It’s not for me, I remind myself. It’s for Dre.

  I take a deep breath and look him in the eye.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I have a son named Dre, a couple of years younger than you,” I say.

  “Yeah? So what?” he says. He’s reaching into his pocket. I know his knife is in there. Or maybe he carries a gun now. I need to talk fast.

  “Dre’s father is Terrell,” I say. “Same as your father. Dre is your half brother.”

  He stops going for his pocket.

  “So? I probably got lots of brothers. Papa was a rolling stone, you know?” He looks almost proud. I wonder how he can be proud of his father for abandoning him. Then I wonder if LeVon himself has any kids yet. I wouldn’t be at all surprised. People like him think it’s funny to knock a girl up and then take off.

  “Well, I used to know Terrell a long time ago,” I say. “And I just got back from seeing him in prison.”

  “Yeah? You one of Terrell’s hoochies, is that it?”

  I want to slap him for that. But instead I just shake my head.

  “I haven’t been involved with Terrell for a long time,” I say. “He left me high and dry. Same way he left your mama.”

  “Hmm.” LeVon doesn’t respond to that. “So what you want? Why you come by here? You a cop?”

  “No, I’m not a cop. I’m kind of like a nurse. But that’s not why I’m here. I just wanted to know if you wanted to meet your brother sometime.”

  “Why would I wanna do that?” LeVon says.

  The truth is, I have no idea. This whole thing seems crazier than ever. All I want now is to get out of here and go home. Dre and I will figure something else out. Maybe if we pray hard enough a donor will appear. Or some other kind of miracle will happen. I must have been nuts for thinking this two-bit thug was going to help me. Look at him. He can’t even help himself. Soon enough, he’s going to be dead. That’s what happens to all these punks. And I hate to say it, but part of me believes that the world is a better place without them. If only there weren’t so many more just waiting to take their place.

  But I also feel kind of sorry for LeVon. He looks enough like Dre that he brings out the mama in me.

  I think about how he must have felt when he was a little boy. He had it even worse than Dre. Not only was his daddy gone, his mama was probably already a drunk back then. I could imagine it all. Neglected for the first years of his life. Going without regular meals because there was no one to cook for him. Being left alone for hours at a time. Scared to death. Never going to school, or if he did, it was just for the hot lunch. Finally ending up on the street, where at least there were other human beings to connect with. Getting taken up into some gang or other. Finding a home. Feeling like at last he belonged somewhere. Learning how to take what he needed from the world. Getting good at it. Not worrying about getting arrested, because he knew as many people in prison as out.

  There are thousands of kids like LeVon in this city. Millions in the whole country. It’s not right. Not right at all.

  “What’s your favorite home-cooked meal?” I ask LeVon.

  See, I know how to get through to a boy. Sometimes it’s just all about the food.

  “Why you wanna know that?” he says.

  “Because I was thinking you could come over for dinner sometime. Meet Dre. And my other son, Marco. He’s just six. You all might like getting to know each other. And we could share a nice meal.”

  LeVon stares at me like I’m an alien from another planet.

  “So, what’s your favorite thing to eat?” I ask.

  He gives me a funny half smile. And just like that, I’m not afraid of him anymore.

  “Roasted chicken and grits with gravy,” he says.

  “Yeah? Well, you come by sometime, I just might make that for you. If you give me enough notice.”

  “Yeah, but why?”

  “Just because. Why does there have to be a reason?” I feel like a big liar. “It’s not right, you guys living so close and not even knowing each other. You could hang out. Become friends.”

  “Lady, I don’t know who you is, but you crazy,” he says. He doesn’t sound mad anymore. He sounds entertained.

  “Here, LeVon,” I say. I take a piece of paper and a pen out of my purse and write down my address for him. Now I know I’m crazy. This is a horrible idea. At least I don’t have anything worth stealing. “You come by here sometime. We’ll have us a real nice dinner. We can hang out, eat, you can play Xbox with the boys. It’ll be fun.”

  LeVon is practically laughing now. It’s like I just told him the best joke in the world.

  “Sure, okay, lady,” he says. “Sounds great.” He rolls his eyes.

  “Just do me one favor,” I say, looking at the other guys sitting around the fountain. “Keep that address to yourself. This is just for you. I don’t need every scumbag in the city showing up. Understand?”

  LeVon looks surprised. Maybe I shouldn’t have called his friends scum-bags. But I forgot to be afraid of him, and my real self shone through for a moment. That’s what surprised him. He sees I’m not just another cowering victim.

  At least, I hope he does.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “You did what?”

  Ernest’s voice goes so high I think he’s going to crack a window. We’re in my bedroom, talking. It’s the first time he’s been in here since we split up, and it’s going to be the last too. Ernest has been watching Dre and Marco for me. I brought him in here to tell him what just happened with LeVon. I don’t want the boys to hear.

  “I had to,” I say. “I had to reach out to him. I can’t ask him over and then not tell him where I live. He’ll come when he’s ready.”

  “Yeah, but Linda,” says Ernest, “if this guy is as dangerous as you say he is, you just invited him to break in and rob you.”

  Ernest doesn’t even know that LeVon has already robbed me once. I wonder what he would say to that.

  “There’s nothing to rob!” I yell. I wave my arms around the room. “Take a look. What do you see? I got a clock radio. Some clothes. A picture of Jesus on the wall. Go out in the living room. I got an old television and an Xbox. That damn Xbox is the most valuable thing I own. It’s worth more than my car! And he can have that. Maybe then the boys will spend more time on homework.”

  “What if he breaks in anyway?” says Ernest. “Then what do you do?”

  “I guess I gotta worry about that when it happens,” I say.

  “Look,” says Ernest. “I’m willing to help you through this. I said I would and
I mean it. But you gotta check with me first before you do things like this. You’re just making things worse.”

  “I don’t have to check with you about anything. Besides, I told you, Ernest. LeVon is probably the only person in the city who can help Dre. Maybe the only person in the whole world, for all I know. I got no other choice. I just need to get through to him.”

  Ernest can see I’m starting to get upset. The thought of losing Dre is killing me.

  “Yeah, I know,” he says. “I understand. But listen. You gotta let me stay here tonight.”

  “What? Uh-uh. No way.”

  “What if he comes here at two in the morning, trying to get in?” Ernest says.

  “Ernest, you’re the one who’s always trying to get in,” I say. “You’re always looking for some way to get back together with me.”

  He looks sheepish.

  “So?” he says. “Can you blame me?”

  Well, he’s got a point there. We never want anything as bad as the thing we had and didn’t appreciate.

  “I wouldn’t mind so much if you weren’t the one who left in the first place!” I say.

  “That’s not true,” he says. “You threw me out!”

  “I had no choice!” I say. “She was calling the house ten times a day! I got my self-respect, you know! I told you, I can put up with a lot, but not with that!”

  “Baby, not a day goes by I don’t wish I could take it all back,” he says.

  “Why did you do it anyway? Was I so boring? Were you sick of me?”

  “No, no,” he says. “I’m just…weak. She came onto me. I couldn’t help myself. It’s not like I was looking for it. You gotta believe me. I was faithful to you, Linda. But when a woman throws herself at a guy like that…” He shakes his head. “It’s pretty hard to say no. It’s just the way we’re wired.”

  “That’s the dumbest excuse ever,” I say. “You have a brain, don’t you?”