by Joy
Dollar knew he needed some change for his pocket so he decided to go hang out with the other dudes. He felt like a hooker waiting on a trick. After a couple of hours, some man pulled up in a pickup and went inside the building.
“That’s Marlon,” one of the guys said. “Whenever he’s down a man or two, he comes by here to find replacements.”
“What’s the job?” Dollar asked.
“Construction,” the guy answered. “He frames houses and shit. Do you know anything about that?”
“If it’s paying money I do.”
“That’s what I’m saying.” The dude laughed. “I’m Jay.”
“Dollar,” Dollar said, shaking Jay’s hand.
“You straight out the joint?” Jay asked.
“Damn. Is that shit written across my forehead or something?” Dollar joked.
“You know how it is out here on the streets,” Jay said. “You either homeless, a crackhead, or freshly released from that gated community. You don’t look like a crackhead, and you don’t smell homeless.”
“Right, right.” Dollar nodded.
Just then Marlon and Redd came out of the office. “Any of you men know anything about tarring and cementing?” Marlon asked.
Of course all the men proclaimed of having such knowledge. Marlon knew some were lying.
“You, you, and you,” Marlon said, pointing at Jay, Dollar, and some crackhead-looking dude. “Redd, I need ’em on the set the rest of the week. Write it up for me, okay?”
“You got it!” Redd replied as the four men piled into the pickup and drove off.
Dollar had never worked so hard in his entire life. Four days straight, he laid hot tar, axed cement, lifted cement blocks, and spread new cement. He was not trying to spend the rest of his life working this hard. He had to set something up, and fast.
The good thing about it was, when the job was completed, Marlon drove the men back to Redd’s and settled the pay. Redd received 30 percent of what the job paid and the men received the other 70 percent tax free. It was the men’s responsibility to file taxes at the end of the year as independent contractors. Redd merely served as an agent, a consultant: the middleman. The workers at Work for a Day were considered self-employed, independent contractors. What was even better was that sometimes the men were paid in straight-out cash, but Redd had paperwork and receipts on each man and each job that they did through his company just in case there were any questions from the IRS.
Dollar’s bank account was now looking at around $470. It made him feel good. Although it wasn’t much, it was enough for him to feel as though he could stand before his mother and little brother. He could tell them he was working and it would be the truth this time.
With a bed at the Y, a couple of outfits, and a job, it was time for Dollar to face his family. Dollar didn’t know where to start. He was hoping his mother was still living in the same apartment, and if not, that a neighbor would be able to point him in the right direction.
Saturday morning after Friday payday, Dollar took the bus to his old neighborhood. When he got off the bus, he walked the strip as if he had never abandoned it for eight years. The block hadn’t changed. As he approached his old apartment building, he stopped at the steps. He recalled the last time he had stepped foot on them. It was when he had been escorted by the Columbus detectives to a downtown interrogation room. Dollar shook off the negative memory and proceeded to walk inside the building.
“Dollar Bill,” a voice called before he could make it completely through the main entrance door. “Dollar, Dollar Bill, y’all. I know that ain’t you.”
Dollar turned around to find a frail old man approaching him. He was wearing some dirty jeans with holes worn in both knees. The man had on a navy blue fishing jacket with the hood pulled over his head. Dollar didn’t recognize the man from back in the day and the expression on his face stated such.
“You don’t recognize me, man?” the strange looking guy said. “It’s me, Stephan.”
As the man walked closer up on him, Dollar recognized him. It wasn’t an old man at all. It was his old classmate, Stephan Crouse. He was one of the smartest kids in school. He was voted the most outstanding leader of the senior class. It was visible that the streets had eaten him alive.
“Stephan Crouse.” Dollar smiled. Ordinarily, Dollar probably would have showed him street love with a masculine hug and some dap, but the odor that reaped from Stephan’s body prevented him from doing so.
“I thought I was seeing a ghost,” Stephan said. “I thought you was supposed to grow old and die in the joint.”
“Yeah, well,” Dollar said, shrugging.
“What you doing back in the old neighborhood, anyway? You ain’t no escapee, are you?” Stephan laughed as he stroked his index finger underneath his nose and sniffed. “’Cause you know if there is a reward for your capture, a brotha got to turn ya in.” He laughed and play hit Dollar in the arm.
Dollar looked down at his arm and then back at Stephan as if to say, “Don’t do that.”
Stephan cleared his throat. “I, uh, just saw your little brother about a month ago over at the clinic.”
“The clinic?” Dollar said. He wondered if his brother was sick or something.
“Yeah. He’s doing some internship or something over at the free clinic.”
Dollar was relieved to hear that.
“He been there for a while now,” Stephan said, realizing that Dollar obviously hadn’t contacted his brother.
“Well, I guess I need to go check out little bro,” Dollar said. “Does my moms still live up in here?”
“Nah. She ain’t lived here in some time. I don’t even know where she staying at, man. I meant to ask your brother ’bout ol’ Mrs. Blake.”
“Well, it was good hollering at you, my man,” Dollar said as he headed for the clinic, which was only a couple miles away.
Dollar saw a few familiar faces as he strolled the block. He saw girls who had once been the finest on the block now looking like crackhead hoodrats. He spotted some of the old hangouts like Mudbone’s candy store. Every city had a candy store ran by some fat dude named Mudbone. The candy was always a front for the dope he sold. Mudbone’s lazy ass always hated counting out penny candy for the kids.
Dollar couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw that Fat’s BBQ was still in business. That was the joint when he was a kid. At least once a month some customer at one of the neighborhood restaurants his mother worked for would give her a nice tip. On her way home from the bus stop she would stop by Fat’s and surprise the kids with it. Dollar couldn’t resist stopping in for a quarter chicken meal with baked beans, greens, and a corn muffin. It brought back some good memories; memories that would soon have a dark overcast.
CHAPTER 9
Is There a Doctor in the House?
“Is there a doctor in the house?” Dollar asked the brown skin, Blair Underwood–looking guy behind the sign-in desk at the clinic. People used to always ask Dollar and Klein if they had the same daddy because Dollar had the majority of his mother’s features and Klein had more of their father’s features.
“You need to sign in,” the man replied as he flipped through a file. “Have you ever been seen here before?” As the man looked up at Dollar, he lost his words. He never expected in a million years to look up and find his big brother standing before him.
“What’s up, Doc?” Dollar said.
Dollar’s little brother still couldn’t respond. He wondered if he was dreaming, if he was just imagining his big brother standing before him. When Dollar spoke again as he reached across the counter and put his hand on his shoulder, Klein knew he wasn’t dreaming.
“Can I call you Doc? Long time no see, Doc. I know you’re speechless right now. Wasn’t expecting to see me today, huh, or any other day for that matter?”
“What are you doing out?” Klein said, finally able to find his words. “You got life.” He raised an eyebrow and said, “You didn’t—”
“No,
man, I didn’t break out if that’s what you were about to say,” Dollar said. “It’s a long story, but I’m out legit. I got a job and everything.”
The two just stood there, one not knowing exactly what else to say to the other.
“What time do you get off?” Dollar asked. “You ate yet? Look, I got you something.” Dollar handed his brother the foam-sealed meal he had gotten him from Fat’s BBQ.
“Fat’s,” Klein said nostalgically as a huge grin took over his face. He then looked up at Dollar and the grin vanished.
“Can we go somewhere and talk?” Dollar asked.
“Uhh, yeah,” his brother replied. “Give me a minute.”
As Klein walked away to inform the staff that he would be stepping away for a moment, Dollar observed the patients in the waiting room. There was a pregnant fourteen-year-old girl in every other chair. There were a couple of whites but blacks and Latinos represented.
“This way,” Klein said, nodding his head toward the exit doors.
“You look good,” Dollar said, scrambling for conversation. He didn’t know what to say. His brother wasn’t the least bit excited to see him. If anything, he acted as if he resented Dollar for reappearing back into his life. How dare he declare himself dead and then resurface as if nothing had happened?
Dollar could see that it was going to take way more than a smile and a BBQ meal to break the ice between him and his brother. Dollar knew it was going to take time so he had to just take things slow for now. Something inside of Dollar wanted to just stop and hug his little brother and tell him how much he had missed him, how sorry he was for the way he handled being incarcerated. But Dollar could sense the hostility in his brother’s demeanor and knew such actions would be rejected.
“Yeah,” his brother said as they took a few more steps accompanied by silence. “So, you out for good, huh? How’d that happen?”
The two continued walking outside as Dollar vaguely briefed him on his happenings of getting out of jail. He intentionally left out the part about Romeo being their father, the man who had abandoned them as children. Within months a needle would be sending him to his grave anyway. So why bother?
“I’m just glad to be out,” Dollar said. “This is a true blessing.”
“Yep, ‘a true blessing,’” his brother said sarcastically.
With every stale remark his brother made, Dollar was closer and closer to just saying, “Fuck it”, walking away, and not trying to make amends with his brother. It was obvious his brother was holding on to that grudge for dear life. But first Dollar needed some information from him.
“I stopped by the old apartment to visit Ma,” Dollar said. “Stephan Crouse was walking by and told me that she didn’t stay there anymore. He’s the one who told me where to find you.”
Doc paused as if he had run into a brick wall. He recouped himself and then proceeded to walk. “Stephan Crouse,” Doc said. “He was up in the clinic not too long ago.”
“Yeah, that’s what he told me. Anyway, where’s Ma?” Dollar asked. “Can you take me to see her?”
His brother stopped walking and looked at Dollar with cold eyes. Dollar sensed this and put both hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Look, man,” Dollar said. “I know how much my being in prison hurt her. I knew it hurt her even more when I forced her to swear me off as dead. I know you don’t understand, but I couldn’t allow her to see her eldest son in a place she wore herself ragged trying to keep me out of. But now I plan to make it all up to her, and you. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make you two understand where I was coming from. I’m sorry, Doc.”
“It was one thing for you to ask us to forget you ever existed, but for you to do the same to us, sending our letters back and shit,” his brother said, attempting to catch the cuss word he had just spoken.
“I know, Doc, but I thought I was dead. I felt like death,” Dollar pleaded. “Prison takes a muthafucka’s breath, mind, soul, and heart. It can break your spirit down to nothing. Without that shit, you are dead. I had no idea I would ever walk these city streets again, ever!”
Doc began walking again and Dollar followed his lead.
“Where you staying at?” Doc asked.
“Over at the Y.”
“I tell you what, I’ll pick you up in the morning at around ten o’clock. I’ll take you to see Ma,” Klein said. “I gotta get back to work right now, though.”
“It’s good to see you, Doc,” Dollar said. “It’s good to see that you did just what you said you’d do. My little brother a doctor,” Dollar said, grinning a proud grin.
“Almost a doctor,” his brother replied. “I went to school summers and everything to get this far. I’m working at the clinic as kind of like an internship under the supervision of an MD. We almost lost the clinic, but I did a little grant writing and we got some assistance.”
“Damn, Doc,” Dollar said. “You the man.”
“Just giving back to my community in a sense,” Doc said.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. And, oh yeah, why don’t you stop and get Ma some flowers? She’ll like that.”
The next morning, as promised, Klein picked Dollar up from the Y and they drove to go see their mother.
“Damn, Doc,” Dollar said after driving about twenty-five minutes in his brother’s Jeep Cherokee. “How far did Ma move away?”
“It’s not much farther now,” Doc replied as he busted a left off of the freeway exit.
“I can’t believe I’m cruisin’ the city streets,” Dollar gasped as he took in the lovely view. Doc simply looked straight ahead and drove steadily. “You’re pretty quiet.”
“Still in shock, I guess,” Doc replied.
“Yeah, I know. It’s hard for me to believe it myself,” Dollar said. “For the first few days I kept looking over my shoulder waiting for the man to snatch me up by my collar and drag me back to the joint.”
“How long you been out?” Doc asked.
“Not too long,” Dollar said. “I didn’t come at you and Ma right away because I had to get myself together, you know, before I let you and Ma know I was out. I didn’t want to be like all these other cats getting out of jail moving into somebody’s basement rent free,” Dollar said. “Plus, I couldn’t just show up on y’all’s doorstep. I knew I had to explain a lot to you guys. I just hope Ma understands.”
“Umm hmm,” Klein said.
“What, man?” Dollar asked. “What’s on your mind? I can tell something is eating at you. You wanna cuss me out, punch me? I don’t blame you, man. From your point of view I know I was wrong, but you’ve never had your life ripped from up underneath you.”
“Oh, yeah,” Klein said snidely.
“Yeah,” Dollar replied as Klein turned into Evergreen Cemetery. “What’s going on man?”
Klein ignored Dollar as he maneuvered through the trails of the cemetery roads.
“What’s going on?” Dollar repeated.
“You said you wanted to see Ma, didn’t you?” Klein answered as he parked the car. “Come on then. Let’s go!”
Klein got out of the car and walked over to a gray marbled headstone that stood upright. It had a vase attached to it and it read MRS. SADIE BLAKE 1958–2000. Dollar got out of the Jeep and stood at the hood for a moment. He slowly walked over to the graveside and fell to his knees upon reading the headstone. He choked and lost his breath. Once he was able to clear his breathing passage, he roared out in pain. Klein watched his older brother break down and cry just as he had done three years ago when their mother had passed.
“Go ahead, Dareese,” Klein said. “Give Ma her flowers.”
“Why?” Dollar cried. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“You were dead, remember? We were dead. As far as you were concerned, that is, we were already dead. It didn’t matter to call you. You didn’t want anybody coming to visit you, seeing you in your prison fits. I figured you sure wouldn’t want to show up at your mother’s funeral in chains.”
“D
amn, Doc.” Dollar continued to bawl. “When? What happened? I mean, oh my God, my mama!”
“Car accident,” Doc said.
Dollar turned his head to wipe his eyes that had been flooded with tears. His eyes caught the tombstone right next to his mother’s that read CHARLENE DAVIS. Davis was his mother’s maiden name. He knew the grave belonged to his Auntie Charlene.
“Ma and Auntie Charlene both,” Doc continued. “On their way to see you, or try to see you, rather. Didn’t you wonder why the visits stopped?”
“Oh, Doc. Oh, man,” Dollar cried. “Ma, she’s gone.”
“She said only death could keep her from trying to see her boy,” Klein said. “She wanted you to know, she wanted to tell you face to face that she was still proud of you and that she still loved you; that you were her son. She said God told her you were no killer and she’d never believe that you were. She loved you.”
“I can’t believe no one told me.” Dollar snorted.
“I didn’t even contact the prison,” Klein said. “I didn’t write you or try to visit, either. I was just abiding by your request. You’ll be pleased to know that I didn’t even include your name in the obituary.”
Dollar looked up at his baby brother with discontent. It was as if it was pleasing Klein to see him kneeled in grief at their mother’s grave. Before Klein knew it, Dollar had charged at him. The two siblings punched and rolled on the ground, on their mother’s grave.
Dollar managed to pin Klein down and got a clear shot to punch him dead in the face. Doc saw Dollar’s fist clench and prepare to tag him, so he closed his eyes and waited to receive the blow. Dollar held his fist in midair as if he was fighting with an evil entity to keep from bringing it down on his brother’s face. Dollar knew in his heart he would have killed his brother. He would have beaten him senseless. Dollar stood up over Klein, looked to the sky, beat his hands on his chest, and roared.
The sound of Dollar’s pain echoed throughout the cemetery as Doc stood watching him. Eventually the two drove off together without saying a single word to one another the entire drive.
