Erasure

by Percival Everett

“I got it,” I say.

  Reynisha is lookin at me and laughin. “Keep laughin, bitch,” I say.

  “And whatchew gone do?” she say. I got sumpin’ fo’ you if you come to my house.” She talkin bout that nine she got. “Come on ova.”

  The camera come back on.

  “Welcome back,” Snookie Cane say. “Our show today is You gave me the baby, Now where’s the money? And on our stage we have Van Go Jenkins, father of four children by four different women. Van Go, so you admit you haven’t contributed any money to the care of your children.”

  “I ain’t admittin nuffin,” I say.

  “He ain’t bout nuffin,” Cleona say it this time.

  “Shut up, bitch,” I say.

  The audience makes a noise.

  Snookie Cane put the microphone in front of a fat woman with corn rows on her head. “His problem is he don’t respect himself,” the fat woman say. “So, how he gone respect anybody else.”

  “I respect myself,” I say.

  “You ain’t showin it, boy,” the fat woman say.

  “Who you callin boy?” I say. “Sit yo’ big butt down.”

  A tall, skinny dude stand up and say, “I think Mr. Jenkins here gots a problem wif his self-confidence, you know wif his manhood.”

  “I’ll show you mine if you keep yo’s to yo’self,” I say.

  The audience laugh and that feel kinda good.

  “You have an answer for everybody, don’t you,” Snookie Cane say.

  “Damn straight,” I say. “Somebuddy wanna answer, I gots one.”

  Snookie Cane say, “We hear from Sharinda that you ain’t all that in bed.”

  The audience laugh.

  “Sharinda be lyin,” I say. “Sharinda be screamin.”

  The audience make a noise.

  “I be screamin to keep from laughin,” Sharinda say.

  The audience laugh.

  I feels blood in my face and my leg is shakin and my mouth feel like it movin but ain’t no words comin out.

  “She got you, Van Go,” Snookie Cane say.

  “You the one ain’t nuffin,” I say.

  Sharinda lean back and snap her fingers and say, “All I know is I gots me a real man now and I be screamin fo’ sho.”

  “Let’s meet that man,” Snookie Cane say. “Want to, audience?”

  The audience say yeah.

  Snookie Cane say, “Come on out, Mad Dog!”

  The audience laugh at his name and I laughs too and this itty bitty lil’ nigger come struttin out. I bust up laughin. That be Mad Dog? I’m sho ‘nuff beside myself now.

  “A real man,” I say to the audience.

  Mad Dog just look at me like he don’t care what I say. For a second I feels kinda like a fool. But I cuts a look at him. I oughta fuck him up.

  “Mad Dog,” Snookie Cane say, “what do you know about all this.”

  Mad Dog lean back like Sharinda and say, “I don’t know much, but I know this nigger ain’t shit.”

  The audience scream.

  “You have to watch your language, Mad Dog,” Snookie Cane say.

  “I’m sorry,” Mad Dog say.

  “Damn right, you sorry,” I say.

  Mad Dog laugh. “Listen, boy, I takes care of yo’ baby everyday like she my own. Where yo’ money?”

  The audience howl.

  “Same place yo’ business be,” Mad Dog say. “Nowhere.”

  I jumps up, but that little muthfucka don’t move, just look at me like I ain’t bout shit. That big dude with the headset on come and sit me back down.

  “Bet sit yo’ butt down,” Mad Dog say, cool as shit.

  Mad Dog talk to Snookie Cane and the audience. “I tell you what his problem is. He wanna knock boots wit Sharinda, but he ain’t even got shoes.”

  The audience howl again.

  “Aspireene is a sweet lil’ girl,” Mad Dog say. “I love Aspireene like my own.”

  The audience say, “Awwwww.”

  “That’s beautiful, Mad Dog,” Snookie Cane said.

  Mad Dog smile at Sharinda and touch Aspireene’s face.

  I look at the first row and I see Mama’s face and she look like she bout to cry. I hates Mama. I loves Mama. I hates Mama. I loves Mama.

  Snookie Cane put the microphone in front of this white dude and he put his hand on his hip and say, “I think loverboy up there needth to get on away away from the girlth.”

  “Shut up, faggot,” I say.

  “Come thhut me up,” the faggot say. “But you probably ain’t got nothin that can thhut me up.”

  The audience laugh.

  The faggot say, “The female in the red top.”

  “Cleona,” Snookie Cane say.

  “Cleona,” the faggot say. “Cleona, you need to jutht cut him loothe and find you a man.”

  “What you know bout men?” I say and try to laugh.

  “Honey, I know all about men,” he say.

  The audience laugh.

  “Shit,” I say under my breath. I looks back at Mama and she sho ‘nough cryin now.

  Snookie Cane see my mama cryin and walk down to her, put the mike in her face. “Who are you, ma’am?” she ax.

  “I’m his mother,” Mama say.

  “Why are you cryin Mrs. Jenkins?” Snookie Cane ax.

  “I didn’t raise him up to be like this,” Mama say.

  “You made your mother cry,” Snookie Cane say.

  “She always be cryin,” I says. “Ain’t nuffin new.”

  The audience yell at me.

  Snookie Cane put the microphone in front of a fat white dude. “He can’t respect these here women cause he don’t even respect his own mother.”

  “Good point,” Snookie Cane say.

  “But wait,” Snookie Cane say to the audience, then to me, “Van Go Jenkins, we have another surprise for you.”

  “Yeah, what that be?”

  “Where do you work now?” Snookie Cane ax.

  “I’m in between jobs,” I say.

  “Don’t you work for a family named Dalton?” she ax.

  I don’t say nuffin.

  “Do you know the Daltons?” she ax.

  “Yeah, I know ‘em,” I says.

  “What about Penelope Dalton?” Snookie Cane ax.

  I looks at the door on the stage and then behind me. What Penelope gone be on this show for? “Is she here?” I ax.

  “No, Van Go, she’s not here, but these gentlemen are,” Snookie Cane say.

  And two policemans come through the door to my right.

  “It seems you stepped over the line last night, Van Go,” Snookie Cane say, steppin down to beside my mama. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jenkins,” she say.

  The cops is walkin at me.

  Snookie Cane say, “It seems our guest raped a woman last night. At least that’s the allegation.”

  I jump up out the chair and run for the other door. There be two cops there too. Fuck! I run for the back of the stage and I see Mad Dog’s face and he just as cool as shit. He don’t even get up. He say, “They ain’t after me.”

  I run through the audience. That faggot try to stop me, but I runs right through him, kick him with my knee and he go down. People be tryin to grab me and I get thrown back to the front. I’m next to Mama. Mama be cryin. I’m right next to Snookie Cane. She don’t look real. The policemans are about to grab me. I drop down on my knees and start crawlin through legs. I’m trippin people and knockin ‘em over. I gets to the door in back and punch a security guard. I run. I gets out that building and I run out the studio and past the parkin lot and down a steep bank and across the highway and some railroad tracks. My heart is beatin, beatin, beatin.

  Ate

  So I gets away from the police and hangs around some alleys for a while. I gots a coupla dollars my mama give me before the telebision show, but I dont wanna spend it yet. But I be hongry as shit. I think it aint a good idea to go back to my hood, but that where I gotta be. I knows the streets and places to hide. I go to the grade s
chool and kicks up in the shadows by the door and looks at the basketball courts. I hears some footprints comin my way, but there aint noplace for me to run, so I stay sunk down in the dark.

  “Go, nigger, you here?” the voice call out. I recognizes it as Reynisha.

  “That you, Reynisha?” I ax.

  “Yeah, it me,” she say. “Come on out from dem shadows.”

  “You by yo’self?” I ax.

  “Yeah,” she say. “I dint think you was gonna get away from there. Them police still lookin through the studio.”

  “Take mo’ than twenty police to catch me,” I say. “You come lookin fo’ me?”

  “Yeah,” she say. “Come on down.”

  I step out the shadows and down the steps and stand in front of her. “What you want?” I look at the street and down the block. “You got any money or food?”

  “No, nigger, but I gots this fo’ yo’ ass,” she say and she pull out that nine and point it at me.

  “Shit, Reynisha,” I say. “Is that muthafucka loaded?”

  “Dame straight it loaded, you sorry son of a bitch,” she say. “I’m gone shoot yo’ ass dead and get you out my baby’s life fo’ good.”

  “Chill out, baby doll,” I say.

  She laugh. “Baby Doll?” she say and shake her head. “You got some fuckin nerve.”

  “What you talkin bout, baby?” I say. “You know you aint wanna shoot me now, do you?”

  “Oh, I wanna shoot you. There aint no question bout that,” she say. “I wanna shoot you and let somebody else clean up the blood.”

  “Give me the gun, Reynisha,” I says and I take a step her way.

  “One mo’ step and it will be yo’ last,” she say.

  “What you want?” I ax.

  “I wanna shoot you, stupid,” she say.

  “You want money?” I ax.

  “You know you aint got no money,” she say.

  “Who that?” I say, lookin at the street. When she look, I takes the pistol from her. “Woooo. I’m glad I a smart muthafucka. So, you was gonna shoot my ass?”

  “Damn straight,” she say, mad even though I got the gun.

  “You lucky you my baby’s mama,” I say. “If you wasn’t I be puttin a bullet right tween yo’ eyes.” I put the barrel of the pistol on her forehead.

  “You aint got the balls,” she say.

  I dont pay her no attention. I pull the gun back and look at it. “I been wantin and needin me one of these.”

  “Gimme my gun back,” she say.

  “Fuck you,” I say.

  “You a big man, right?” she say.

  I feels the weight of the pistol in my hand. “I is now,” I say. “I is now.”

  “I’m gone tell ‘em you got a gun,” she say.

  “Tell ‘em,” I say. I be lookin at the gun, the way it look in my hand, feelin the weight of it. “You go ‘head and tell ‘em.”

  “What you gone do?” she ax.

  “What that mean to you?” I say. “I got what I want from you and you kick them Hush Puppies on down the road.”

  “I hope they kill yo’ ass,” she say.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Me, too. They kills everybody else. So, why not me?”

  I’m walkin downtown now. Just in case Reynisha go runnin to the cops and tellin ‘em she seen me in the hood. I be feelin the nine in my pocket and my head feel light. Then I see this cop cruiser comin toward me on the street. I ducks into a store. The store be full of stereos and telebisions and I think it would be cool as hell to actually have me one of them fine stereos. I wanna use my gun and take one. But the stereo be heavy and the cops be outside. I aint stupid. And there on the screen, on screen after screen down the row, is me, me on the Snookie Cane Show. Me in front of everybody. Me on telebision. I be lookin good and then the police come in. Then they rolls the tape back and show it again. Over and over. On screen beside screen beside screen. And there be this fat bitch standin down in front of a big screen and she look at me and I looks away. I walks on out back to the street where that cruiser been. But the cops aint there when I gets out. I heads down this alley and that, this street and that until I be back at the hood.

  I sits under a tree in the park across from the licker sto’ and looks at my pistol. It be so black and shiny. It like a black diamond. It like money that aint money yet.

  I walks on down out the park and down the street. I’m goin to the K’rean muthafucka’s sto’. He owe me. He owe me all he got for tellin me to get outta his fuckin’ sto’ and then callin the police. Just cause I wasn’t buyin nuffin. K’rean muthafucka. I just know that register of his be fulla money.

  I stand cross the street and I watch people goin in and comin out the lil’ grocery sto’. Finally aint nobody in there but that K’rean. I crosses the street, give another look up and down the street and I go in.

  That K’rean recognize me when I walk in. I can tell by the way he look at me. But he dont say nuffin. I look at the chips on the rack and he step real slow round the counter. He be runnin his hand through his hair like he nervous, shootin glances at me wif them little squinty eyes. Then he behind the counter, facin me and I see he’s reachin down for sumpin.

  I pulls my piece and point at his yellow face. “Put yo’ hands on the counter,” I say.

  He put ‘em flat on the counter. He lookin at my eyes. “What you wan?” he ax. “Take what you wan and go way.”

  “Gimme the money in the register,” I say. I watch him while he do it. It look to be bout round a hundred. “Okay, where the safe.”

  “No got safe,” he say.

  “Fuck you, man,” I say. “Where the safe.” I push the gun closer to his face.

  “Safe in back,” he say. “Don’t shoot.”

  “Come round from there real slow,” I tells him.

  But he don’t come round real slow. He duck down behind the counter and try to come back up with a shotgun. I pop him. The pistol jump in my hand and I almost drop it. I hit him in the head, in the side of the head. The hole look neat and there aint much blood at first. I shoots him three mo’ times until he in a lake of blood. Muthafucka. Shit, fuckin K’rean made me kill his ass. I dint tell him to grab no gun. I grab the money up off the counter and run out.

  My head be throbbin. I dont know what to think or where to go. I run and run and run but I aint gettin nowhere. I be hongry as hell and I go into a Popeye chicken place. I eat some chicken and drink me a Sprite while sittin in the back booth near the bafrooms. I just be hopin I dont see nobody I knows. But the food be good.

  I walk past the high school and down a wide alley and somebody call out to me. I pull the gun real fast and turn round and there is Willy the wino.

  “Whoa,” he say. “Dont shoot me, pardner.” He drunk as shit and swayin in the light from a window above him. “That you, Van Go.”

  “Yeah, it me, you drunk muthafucka,” I say.

  “Where you runnin to and why you got that gun?” he ax.

  “Just leave me alone,” I say.

  “How yo’ mama?” he ax.

  “What?”

  “I say, how yo’ mama?” he say. “Think bout it, Van Go. Look at my face. Look at my coal black skin and then look at yown. Look at my black eyes and then look at yown. Look at my big black lips and look at yown. I be your daddy whether you likes it or not.”

  “Shut up,” I say.

  “It true,” he say.

  “Then where you been?” I ax.

  “I been doin what I do, survivin,” he say. “You aint worth a piss. Yo’ mama aint worth a piss. So, here I is.”

  I can feel the rage swell up inside me. I hates this man. I hates my mama. I hates myself. I’m seein my face in his. I see the ape that stupid girls say they be fraid of. I see my long arms hangin down. I see eyes that dont care what happen tomorrow. I see myself rockin on my heels, waitin, waitin, waitin for sumpin I won’t recognize when it come. My only cure gone be death. I heard it all my life. I be hearin it now. I see Mama bleedin in my dream. I se
e my babies. I see Rexall, wifout a brain, growin up and axing “Why not me?” I see my daddy. I see myself. I shoot the muthafucka. Pop! In the gut.

  Willy double over and he look at me like to say, “Why?” I yell at him. I be standin over him yellin at the back of his head. “Cause you aint shit!” I say. “Cause you made me, muthafucka! Cause I aint shit!” I be cryin now and I think I hear sumpin out at the street. I run again.

  I falls asleep in the basement of an empty buildin.

  I has a dream. In the dream this big white man tryin me out for a basketball team. He makin me run laps round the court. Lap after lap after lap. And everytime I comes by him he laughin harder. So, finally I stops and looks at him and I ax, “What you laughin at?”

  “You runnin the wrong way, nigger,” he say.

  “Why dint you say sumpin,” I say. Then I turn around and start runnin the opposite direction. And everytime I pass by him he laughin harder again. So, I stops and stares at him. “What the fuck so funny now?” I ax.

  “You’re running with your left foot first,” he say.

  “What you talkin bout?” I ax. I dont understand. “I s’posed to start on my right foot?”

  “No, but it’s supposed to fall first every time,” he say. “It don’t matter which one you start with.”

  “I don’t get it,” I say.

  “Okay, forget that,” he say. “Try running backwards.”

  I run twenty laps backward and my legs be achin and I realize that I aint got on no shoes and my feet be bleedin. And then Willy is runnin backwards beside me, keepin up with me. The coach nods at me everytime I come by. I look over at Willy and he’s smilin.

  “See, it aint so bad,” he say.

  “What you doin here?” I say.

  “I come to tell you that you was wrong,” he say.

  “Bout what?” I ax.

  “You say you aint shit,” he say. “You say I aint shit. Well, I is shit and so is you.” He laughs loud and stops runnin. I pass by the coach and he be laughin too.

  Nine

  I wakes up the next mornin sweatin like a fuckin pig and I be stank. I crawls outta that hole and the light hurts my eyes. I duck through the alleys until I come up to the back of the pool hall. I climb up the fire escape and gets in through the bafroom window. I splash water on my face and then I just sits there for a while, restin, wonderin where I’m gone go. I falls asleep again in one of the stalls.