Status s-1

by Jordan Belcher

  “’Cause he likes you.”

  I started to ask her where she would get an idea like that, when I thought I heard a light tap on my front door. It was almost 11 o’ clock at night and I wasn’t expecting anybody. I went in the living room and got Gideon’s Walther .380 out his jacket. I clutched the black synthetic grip and jacked the hammer back.

  “Who is it?” I asked through the front door.

  Nobody answered me.

  I opened the door slightly and peeked out. The wind whistled and I could hear the rain pelting against the concrete.

  “Anybody?” Gideon asked from behind.

  “Nope. I thought I heard something, though.” I shut the door. “It sounded like a tap.”

  “Ain’t nobody about to come get you,” he said. I handed him his gun and he inspected it. “You actually put a round in it?”

  “I don’t play about my daughter.”

  “You know Rodrick just sent me here as a precaution, right? He thinks people think all these twisted thoughts just like him. If he had an enemy, he’d get whoever’s close to that enemy, like a family member. But people don’t think like that in real life. And if they do, they’d never actually follow through with those thoughts like him. Rodrick is crazy.”

  “Amen to that.”

  We had a seat on the couch and I asked him how he and Rodrick became friends—I had always wondered how they met because they were different in so many ways. I knew they met in prison, but that was the extent of it. He told me it was just by chance. They put Rodrick in a cell with him and in the beginning they barely said two words to each other. Over time, they started cooking meals together to save on money and found out that they both had an interest in the financial shows on CNBC. He noticed Rodrick becoming more fanatical about religion, trying to pressure him to read the Word with him and they started to get into arguments. Gideon was a believer, but not nearly as zealous. Rodrick decided to switch cells but they still had a mutual respect for one another. They promised to stay in touch upon release.

  I wanted to hear more. I loved prison stories! I asked him what he was locked up for; Rodrick told me felons didn’t like being asked that question but I didn’t give a shit. I wanted to know.

  Gideon hesitated. He seemed to be pondering where to start. “I killed my wife,” he said.

  I gasped.

  “Nah, I’m just playing,” he said, laughing.

  “OMG! You had me.” I shoved him playfully. “Were you ever married, though?”

  “Never.”

  Lightning flashed outside and the thunder followed, booming over the entire house. The lights flicked off and on, off and on. Twice.

  “Let me put Kylie to bed,” I told him.

  * * *

  After the second thunder blast, the lights went off and stayed off for good. Me and Gideon bumped into each other three times trying to find candles. We got three lit and placed them on the coffee table as we lounged on the couch in semi-darkness, getting to know one another.

  “I’m not addicted,” I said. “Addicted is a strong word.”

  “What would you call it?” he asked.

  “Obsessed.”

  He laughed. “And that’s better?”

  “Technically? Yes. If I was addicted, I wouldn’t be able to stop. I’d be sucking nutballs for internet access. I’m just obsessed with it. And I don’t even think I’m as obsessed as most people. I don’t post every minute on the hour. For the most part, I post three times a day—when I wake up, then sometime in the afternoon, and at night. Unless it’s something super important I have to post, I try to limit ‘em to three a day.”

  “That sounds like a lot to me.”

  “Trust, it’s not,” I said. “Why don’t you have a profile page? You got something to hide?”

  “Nah, that ain’t it. I just don’t want my business out there like that. That’s why I don’t understand this social media craze. What happened to a little mystery? Say, hypothetically, I was attracted to you and wanted to get to know you.” He put his arm around me. “All I would have to do is go to yo profile page and click on ‘info’ and there it is. There’d be nothing to learn or discover about you. What once was shared between two people trying to build an intimate relationship is now open for the world to see.”

  “But…” I pointed out, “…that can be considered a good thing. You already know enough about me by checking my profile to see if you like me or not. It eliminates people wasting their time. It’s impossible to put everything about yourself in a post, or even in a thousand posts. There are little things, little nuances and idiosyncrasies, that you don’t even know about yourself that your special someone will have to find out—good and bad. Your profile page is just a foundation, a snidbit of you, a starting point to even consider somebody. We need that nowadays. But niggas like you”—I poked him in the chest—“that don’t have a profile, ol’ off-the-grid-ass niggas, are high risk. What’s the real reason behind this off-the-grid-ness? Are you hiding a shameful character that would eventually come out if you made status updates? Does your life suck that bad that you don’t have anything to post about? Can you not afford internet?”

  “I’m balling,” Gideon said. “And my whole life is full of swag.”

  I laughed. “Not you. I’m just saying.”

  The candles flickered, and for a second I thought they were going to go out.

  “The only downside to it—and I have to admit—is the stalkers. I don’t want to start on how many niggas be in my inbox, even though they see I’m in a relationship with Rodrick.”

  “You can’t blame them, though. You’re sexy to death. How you gon’ be mad at them when that’s the basis of social media—connecting with good people, beautiful people. You got a good spirit too, and I know that comes across in your posts. I’m sure you be uploading pictures of your daughter and niggas is seeing the love you have for ya child, knowing if they were to have a child by you, theirs would get the same love. If I had a page, it’d be hard for me not to live in yo inbox. I’d be messaging you every five minutes until you respond. So I’m sure it’s hard on these brothas that wanna get at you, knowing you’re only a click away.”

  I blushed. But with it being so dark, I knew he didn’t notice. I started biting my clear-coated pinky nail, smiling at how good his words felt. Deep down I knew I was a good woman, but I had wondered if anybody was paying attention. I knew Rodrick wasn’t.

  Suddenly, Gideon pulled on my wrist and popped my fingernail out of my mouth—and replaced it with his lips.

  Magically, the candle lights fluttered out.

  His lips consumed mines, nearly sucking all the juice out. I placed my palm against his chest with just enough pressure to let him know I didn’t want this.

  “What?” he asked breathlessly.

  “Gideon, I’m sorry. I’m with Rodrick. I can’t do this to him.”

  “He does it to you.”

  “I don’t care. I’m not that type of girl.”

  He cleared his throat and gave me some space. “I know… yeah, I know… and my apologies. I misread some signs or somethin’. My internal GPS must’ve malfunctioned.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “And I won’t tell Rodrick.”

  “I wouldn’t care if you did.”

  It was awkward for a minute or so in the total darkness. Then I told him he was welcome to stay up and watch TV on my iPad if he wanted. I found it in my bedroom and brought it to him; it cast a bright white glow of light on his face that made him squint.

  “Thank you for staying here to protect me,” I said.

  “Any time,” he responded dully.

  I went up to my room and closed the door.

  Laying on my bed, I thought about what just happened. Fact: my baby’s daddy’s friend just kissed me. Fact: I have no idea where that came from. Fact: he was a good kisser. Or was that an opinion?

  My mind was racing and I ran my fingers through my hair. He tried to eat my face! It was funny and so fucked up
at the same time. I knew I did the right thing by pushing him away. I was in a relationship with Rodrick—as unstable as it may be, but still officially committed per The Site—and there was a strong possibility that Gideon and Deja were secretly messing around.

  Out of curiosity, I pulled out my phone and went to the Missouri DOC website and typed in Gideon Byers’ name. He said he was joking about being locked up for killing his wife but I just wanted to be sure. When his face popped up, I gasped. He had a beard in his mugshot, and braids—two characteristics I wasn’t that fond of in men. He definitely cleaned himself up since he’d been released.

  When I scrolled down to his charges, I saw one count of trafficking drugs, two counts of narcotics possession, and one count of unlawful use of a weapon. No murder charges.

  -

  Angela youngandfly Serrano: my boo kept me safe through the storm last night. XOXO—with Rodrick Al-Bashir.

  August 16th, 8:45 a.m.

  CHAPTER 8

  The lights were back on in the morning. My phone was dead so I hooked it up to the wall charger and let it build up. On my way to Kylie’s room, I heard two men downstairs laughing. I peeked in on my sleeping baby girl, then trotted down the steps.

  “Rodrick, when did you get here?” I asked.

  “A few minutes ago,” he said. He gave me a hug and a kiss. “The Lord brought me home.”

  “I see. Hopefully the Lord will keep you home.”

  “We can only hope. One only knows what He has in store for me.”

  I glanced at Gideon. He hadn’t looked at me at all. “Good morning, Gideon.”

  “Good morning,” he said dryly.

  He’s still upset with me, I thought. But hopefully he would come back around and we’d have the same relationship before the attempted kiss. I would continue to be nice to him and respect him like I always had.

  As I plopped down in between them on the couch, Rodrick told me they didn’t charge him with anything. The detectives just asked him questions for a few hours and made him sit in a holding cell even longer. Even though they let him go, he still wasn’t out of the water. He said they could still charge him later on down the line if they discovered any new evidence. All they had now was internet speculation and the last comment Kenneth Murberry posted on Rodrick’s wall before he was murdered.

  My gut feeling told me that he and Gideon were responsible. But one thing I didn’t do was ask questions. I didn’t want to know anything and I didn’t want to see anything either.

  “Then there’s still a chance my parole officer can violate me for coming in contact with the police,” Rodrick said. “That’s if he finds out. I’ll have to go back and finish off the rest of my time. But I’m not gon’ worry about it. I already put it in God’s hands.”

  “How much time you got left on your sentence?” I asked him.

  “Seven months,” Rodrick said.

  “That’s not that bad. What about you, Gideon? Are you still on parole?”

  “Yeah,” Gideon replied. “But I’ll be done with it in two more days.”

  “Damn, that’s good. Are you gonna celebrate?”

  He nodded. “I already got something planned.”

  “Tyesha, go get dressed,” Rodrick said to me. “And while you up there, wake up my baby girl. We’re all going out on this beautiful Saturday morning to eat a nice breakfast at the Isle of Capri. Maybe splash a little bit on the crap table too. My treat. It’s not often I get to do somethin’ nice for the ones I love. I try to show my appreciation as much as I can.”

  Gideon gave him dap and I one-arm hugged him before racing up the steps. It was times like these that reminded me why I fell in love with Rodrick. He was so appreciative and generous. Whenever he tried to give me large amounts of cash, though, I would turn it down or do one of two things: put it up for his daughter’s college tuition, or put it up for him in case he got incarcerated again. I didn’t want to become dependent on his drug money. But him taking me and Kylie out was something different.

  I was flipping through the hangers of clothes in my closet when I heard my phone beep. I picked it up and unlocked the screen, saw a notification lit up on The Site. When I clicked it, a message appeared alerting me that someone had posted on Rodrick’s wall. I had my settings set so all Rodrick’s interactions on The Site would automatically pop up in my newsfeed, and if someone commented or left a message on his wall, my phone would beep. Rodrick was a goodhearted person, but I still had to keep tabs on him.

  My phone buffered for a moment, and then the message appeared.

  It felt like I got shot in the stomach with a semi-automatic; it was twisting in painful knots as I read the message and the time it was posted. I was beyond stunned, woozy almost. I read Angela youngandfly Serrano’s comment again, as my feet traveled on their own back downstairs. Before I knew it, I had Rodrick in a deathly chokehold.

  “You trifling-ass nigga!” I screamed.

  He choked and gagged, trying to wrest my arms from around his neck. As he tried to pull away, he dragged me across the couch but I still stayed latched. I bit into his temple ragefully.

  He slammed me over his shoulder onto the carpet.

  Gideon pushed him. “Ay, nigga, don’t hurt her!”

  Rodrick held the side of his face as he maintained his balance. He had minor bleeding. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  I didn’t know if he was apologizing to me or Gideon. I got up and seized two handfuls of his dreads, yanking him around. He slammed into the flatscreen, as I yanked left and he tripped over the coffee table, fell onto it—but not through it.

  “You were with that bitch last night!” I hollered. “You fuckin’ liar! You weren’t locked up!”

  “Tyesha, let him go,” Gideon said, pulling me by the waist.

  “No!! I’ma kill his bitch ass!”

  I dragged him off the table and Gideon fell behind me and I fell on top of him. Rodrick got up and ran around the couch. I got up and tried to go after him but Gideon was holding me by the waist again. I threw elbows but he wouldn’t let me go.

  “What did I do?” Rodrick asked.

  “You know what you did, bitch!” I yelled. “Where the fuck were you last night?!”

  “I was in jail.”

  “No, you weren’t! You were at that bitch Angela youngandfly Serrano’s house!”

  “No, I wasn’t, Tyesha. I got my release paperwork in my pocket.”

  “You fuckin’ lying bitch! She posted on your wall this morning that you were at her house all fuckin’ night! When your daughter is here in the dark with no damn power!”

  He blinked guiltily. “She posted what?”

  I struggled with Gideon. “Let me go! I’ma murder his bitch-ass!”

  “I really was locked up, Tyesha. She just bonded me out, that’s all. I tried to call you but your phone was off.”

  “Let me go, Gideon!”

  “Gideon, hold her until I get outside.” Rodrick started backpedalling out the door. “A’ight, bro?”

  When Rodrick shut the door behind him, Gideon let me go. I ran to the door and yanked it open, dashed down the steps as Rodrick screeched away from the curb. His Challenger screamed down the road.

  “I’ma kill his ass,” I said to Gideon when I got back in the house. “Can I use your gun?”

  “Tyesha, you act like you didn’t see this coming,” he said.

  “Did you know? Were you in on it too? Did he tell you to watch me so I wouldn’t be asking where he was?”

  “I was played too. He knew I wouldn’t do nothing like that to you willingly.”

  “Can you leave, please?”

  “Tyesha, I swear I didn’t know where he was,” Gideon stressed.

  “Still, can you leave? Please?”

  His jaws clenched, then he threw on his track jacket and strolled out the door.

  I sat on the arm of my couch and crossed my arms. Tears slowly fell down my cheeks as I thought of how many people saw Angela youngandfly Serrano’s post.
Hundreds, maybe thousands. It was bad enough having a man who cheated on me, but for it to be broadcasted over the World Wide Web was literally unbearable. My chest began to constrict on its own, and I found myself trying to catch my breath. It sounded so simple to just change my relationship status and delete Rodrick as a friend, but it wasn’t. People would see me as a quitter. And I know for a fact once his status changed, tons of bitches would pounce on him, and Kylie would end up with who knows how many brothers and sisters. But the fight for his love was tormenting my soul.

  Then I heard a phone beep.

  Wiping my eyes, I pulled my cell out and checked the display. No notifications. Puzzled, I looked over my shoulder and on the couch was a cell phone one of them dropped. I picked it up and unlocked the screen with a quick swipe. It was Rodrick’s phone.

  I didn’t hesitate to log into The Site through his account and check his private messages. I clicked on the exchange between him and Angela that took place exactly 47 minutes ago.

  Angela youngandfly Serrano: fuck and run? I see how u do.

  Rodrick Al-Bashir: I gotta head over my BMs house and relieve Gideon of his duties.

  Angela youngandfly Serrano: I’m getting fed up with u still fucking w/ her

  Rodrick Al-Bashir: That’s the mother of my child. I’ma always have to fuck with her.

  Angela youngandfly Serrano: bull shit just go ur separate ways and pay ur child support. If u want me to pay it for u I will.

  Rodrick Al-Bashir: I’m not on child support. And you know I ain’t that type of nigga anyway. God rewarded me with my daughter. I can’t turn my back on a blessing.

  Angela youngandfly Serrano: i won’t let u keep using God as an excuse to play me! either u gonna change ur relationship status w/ her or I’m done. U told me if I came to pick u up from the jail last night you would change it.

  Angela youngandfly Serrano: hello???!!!

  Rodrick Al-Bashir: Sorry. I had to stop texting and driving. I just pulled up to my BMs house.

  Angela youngandfly Serrano: answer my question. R u gonna change your status?