Between Brothers

by C. Kelly Robinson

  Terence trained a skeptical eye on his girlfriend. “You’re putting a lot of conditions on my value, Lisa. Do you hear yourself? I’m the best ‘so far.’ That’s damn flattering. Listen to me. Have you decided on those job offers yet?”

  Annoyance lacing her tone, she sighed. “I have until a week after graduation to give my answers. I was leaning toward going with Johnson & Johnson, out in Rockville.”

  Biting his lip and avoiding eye contact, Terence decided to do what he felt best, regardless of the pain it was already inflicting on him. “I thought the job with Merck, in Jersey, was your dream job? The pay was better, you were going to be able to get into a management position more quickly. What’s tipping you toward staying in this area?”

  Lisa wiped a tear from her eye. The message was clear. “What do you think?”

  “Lisa, maybe it’s best if you take that offer with Merck. I wouldn’t want you to miss the best opportunity over me. There’s no guarantee about where we’re headed.”

  Wrenching herself away from him, Lisa stood again, her dark eyes burning a hole through Terence. “So it’s like that, just like that?” She paused and looked around the room, as if she expected someone to burst out from nowhere and talk some sense into him. “Terence, do you know what you’re doing? Are you sure about this?”

  He stood and moved to her, propping her up as she collapsed into him. “Lisa, hear me. I love you, you know that. You have to understand, I’m doing this for you. We have to be strong. You need to decide, once and for all, if you can live with the fact that you’ll never find a perfect man, that you’ll eventually have to take me or someone else for what we are. And I’ll have to figure out how to get sincerely interested in another woman, if you decide I’m not the one you can commit to. It’s the only way. We can’t go on the way we’ve been. I’m sorry . . .”

  As he loosened his grip, Lisa flitted away from him and retreated to the kitchen. Before he had time to weigh the pros and cons of going after her, she emerged with her jacket and purse, speaking in a clipped, hurried tone. “All the food is ready. More spaghetti’s on the stove, garlic bread is in the oven. I turned everything off, so if it gets cold, just pop things in the microwave. There’s enough of everything for you to share with the other guys or save some for your granny when she comes by after graduation. You don’t have to ride home with me, I’ll be fine. Good night, Terence.”

  As she broke for the door, Terence grasped her left wrist lightly, afraid she would escape before he could soften the blow of his comments. “Lisa, baby, I—”

  Shaking loose his grip, Lisa lowered her eyes and continued to the door before turning back to face him. “Damn you, Terence Davidson.”

  His hands in the air, Terence took one step in her direction. “Why?”

  As she yanked the door open and walked through, Lisa’s terse response was a whisper. “Because you’re right.”

  It was almost ten on Friday night, and Monica Simone was cutting an insistent path through the lower level of Union Station. Graduation would be tomorrow, but she wasn’t going to be around for it. She held a stillwarm ticket to Manhattan in her left hand and gripped her oversized beige Coach bag against her hip with her right hand. Several men passing by slowed their roll to consider approaching her, but they were just as quick in moving on when they glimpsed the salty expression clouding her striking facial features. This sister was not to be messed with, not tonight.

  Bursting through the opening in the railing that separated the shops and newsstands from the Amtrak boarding platform, Monica had her ticket punched by the attendant and strode over to a bank of plastic chairs near the loading area. Setting her bag next to her, she took a seat, crossed her legs, and began to pump her right leg up and down impatiently. Anybody could tell she was ready to go.

  Brandon desperately wanted to get right up on Monica before she saw him, so he did his best to get some help from the attendant taking tickets. Trying not to shout over the harried noise of the crowd, he leaned in toward the young brother. “Hey, man, I don’t have a ticket. I’m tryin’ to catch a woman friend. Can you help a brother out?”

  The attendant, a sleepy-eyed teen who looked to be barely out of high school, eyed Brandon suspiciously. “What? I can’t do that. No ticket, no admittance. Sorry, man.”

  “Brother man, come on, how you gon’ do me?” Brandon flashed a twenty-dollar bill at the boy. “I’m trying to make it worth your while here. I got a woman in there.”

  Suddenly the boy looked at Brandon with startled recognition. “Hey, wait, I know you! Weren’t you at that rededication ceremony at Ellis Center on Thursday?”

  Confused, Brandon looked past the boy to catch a glimpse of Monica’s busy legs. “Uh, yeah, I was an honorary board member this year. You used to attend the center or something?”

  The attendant flashed a wide grin and shook Brandon’s hand. “Yeah, Dog, I almost grew up in Ellis. Your name’s Brandon, right? You worked with my little brother, Billy Davis, in the science tutors program.”

  “You’re Billy’s brother? He’s a great kid. Very talented little scientist, if I recall.”

  “Hey, man, go on in. I can look the other way for someone like you. God bless you, Dog.”

  Shaking the young man’s hand, Brandon slipped through the turnstile and wove his way toward Monica, keeping out of her sight all the way. When he was within a few feet of her, he slid into the next seat and waited for her to turn his way.

  It took just five seconds. “What the hell do you want?” Eyes flashing, she looked at him as if he had just hit her with some lame come-on line.

  Standing, Brandon towered over her, looking as deep into her eyes as she would allow. “Monica, the other night scared me. What we did, what happened, it—”

  “Not here.” Monica’s response did nothing to release the tension percolating between them. As she gathered her bag and shot past the amused stare of the young attendant, Brandon followed closely on her heels. She stopped and allowed him to corner her just beneath the stairwell. She turned to face him, but her eyes held him at a distance. “Brandon, I’m going to say this once and once only. The other night was the first time I’ve slept with anyone in more than a year. You wanna know why? Because I was tired of being hurt. I held Victor off, avoided every dog on Highland’s campus. I was saving myself until I met a real man, one who could share his emotions, love someone other than himself, and treat me with respect. I thought you measured up. You think I went out with you, slept with you, this late in the game, for the hell of it? I’ve tried to let you know how I feel. But what do I get in return? Judgment, like I’m a slut or something. Do you have any idea how it hurt to be called a waste of time?” She gripped her Coach and broke eye contact with him, the lingering pain in her voice saying more than the words.

  Raising his right hand in despair, Brandon took another step into her personal space. “Monica, these last few weeks threw me for a loop. I didn’t know what I was getting into. My grandmother used to tell me be careful what I pray for, ’cause I just might get it. I see now what she meant. Even the best dreams and fantasies never measure up in real life. Everything comes with a price. It’s taken me a while to accept that.” He leaned in toward her, drinking in the smell of her hair and her Eternity perfume as she stared at the floor and toyed with her bag. “Monica, I don’t know how this will work out, if at all. But I don’t want to wonder how it would’ve gone if we gave it a chance. Please don’t leave town tonight. I know you don’t want to. Tara told me everything, about your plans to stay out of town until I was gone, and about those phone calls you’ve been getting from your ex back in Manhattan. But you don’t want Victor.”

  He hugged her quivering body against his. “Your apartment’s still waiting for you. Tara said your subletters don’t move in for another two weeks. If you stick around that long, I’m sure I can. You know you want to.” He gave her a look of longing.

  The ice slowly melting from her face, Monica sighed and reached out, pi
nching Brandon’s cheeks as if he was a cherubic infant. “Maybe I’ll switch my ticket. My internship at home doesn’t start for another three weeks. But Brandon, I don’t do long-distance dating. After this, it’s over. Fini.”

  Brandon grinned. “Fini this. You and I both know tu me veux.”

  “Okay. Je t’aime, beaucoup. Happy?” Monica’s mouth crinkled into a mischievous smile. “But I promise not to take advantage of you anymore. I’ll keep my hands to myself. No more coucher.”

  “I like your terms. Friends?”

  They remained rooted in that spot for several minutes, staring deeply into each other’s eyes while the sounds of departing trains and the smell of Cinnabon pastries and Sbarro’s pizza permeated the station. None of that mattered right now. With Monica in his arms, Brandon couldn’t focus on anything else. One last time, he allowed himself to wonder how much simpler life might have been if he’d stepped to Monica the first time he saw her. Would she have paid him any mind? Would they have adapted to each other’s morals and lifestyles? Would they have survived the many pitfalls that ruined Highland relationships on a daily basis? The odds were low on every point, so there was no use torturing himself over what might have been. Right now he was holding what had once been the idealized woman of his dreams. She had turned out to be a living, breathing, flawed but precious human being, no different from anyone else.

  He would tell her about Brandy later tonight; that way each person’s baggage would be on the table, and they could start with a clean slate. He’d learned so much from Monica. The next time a woman took his breath away, he’d no longer cower in fear or delude himself with religious excuses for his timidity. He’d remember Monica, if only for an instant, and spur himself into action, until one day he’d achieve that perfect match, the woman who would turn him to jelly and share his principles. One day it might even be Monica herself. But whoever it wound up being, Brandon knew the imprint this lady had made on his heart would never be erased.

  Interrupting his meditation, Monica placed a slender finger to his freshly balmed lips. “I hate to go back on my promise, but do you think you can handle a little temptation, Mr. Choirboy?” Her teasing smile was loaded with promises.

  Feeling his heart burn with a passion he knew he would have to control, Brandon pulled Monica’s smiling face to within an inch of his own. “I’ll take my chances.”

  * * *

  Somebody was smiling on O. J. today. His doctors had expected him to be in the neck brace for at least two weeks, but when he’d climbed out of bed this morning for graduation, he knew he was ready to remove it for good. His father had helped free him of the scaly bandage, and so far the old neck was holding up just fine. O. J. took advantage of this as he bobbed and weaved through the buzzing crowd of family and friends that packed the backyard of the house. Lined up against the house was a row of card tables filled with baked and fried chicken, a turkey, ham, roast beef, and every soul food side dish known to man. Brandon’s and O. J.’s families manned the tables, dishing out healthy portions and taking time to get acquainted with their sons’ friends and classmates. Making his way through the crowd, O. J. coaxed another loaded plate of ham, collard greens, and dressing from his aunt Junetta before dancing his way back to the table with his father and the Griers.

  Rev. Grier laughed at O. J.’s hearty appetite. “Boy, somebody has sho’ ’nuff been healed up in here! Look at your boy eat, Peters!”

  Pastor Peters shook his head in exasperation at his legacy. “He gets that from his momma’s side of the family, not from me. You see what a beanpole I am!” Peters ran a hand over O. J.’s newly shaved head. “You can cut those waves out of his head, but you’ll never take away his love for vittles! I shoulda known my son would turn out with a healthy appetite. When I started courtin’ his mother, the first thing her family did was have me over to eat. Don’t you know my wife’s brothers and father ate me under the table! Questioned my manhood over it, they did! O. J., you never had a chance, son!”

  As the men coughed and chortled in amusement, Carla tapped O. J. lightly on the shoulder and asked the question he’d been waiting for. “So, have you talked to Keesa yet?”

  Halting his fork over the stacked plate, he shrugged absentmindedly. He was still coming to terms with the reality of Keesa’s wrath. “They booked her on assaultand-battery charges, Carla. I asked the police not to bring the assault-with-deadly-intent charge. I confirmed her account about the mind games that Nico Lane and them played on her, how she had been deluded into thinking I badmouthed her in public. It’s not formal yet, but it sounds like they’re going for a suspended sentence, probation, and mandatory psychological counseling.”

  “What about the baby?”

  “I haven’t talked to Keesa, but I hear from the authorities that she and the baby are fine. I’ve left all my info with the authorities so I can take a paternity test when the baby’s born this winter.”

  “And if you’re the father?”

  “I guess I’ll cross that bridge if I come to it, Carla.” O. J. looked off beyond the throng of celebration, his upbeat mood temporarily stalled. “But I will take care of my responsibilities. Believe that, there are enough deadbeat dads around without me adding to the problem.”

  Rising from her seat, Carla pecked O. J. on the right cheek. “I’m proud of you, O. J. I know you’re going to emerge a better man from all this. I have to go. Look, please stay in touch, okay? I love you.”

  Before he could crook his neck to watch her leave, Carla was gone. He knew it was best this way. There was no turning back now. He had the opportunity of a clean slate awaiting him in Atlanta, once he had squashed any leftover conflicts from his freewheeling high school days. Carla was too good a catch to wait around on him; in Chocolate City it would only be a matter of time before a better man, one who was already where O. J. knew he needed to be, would snatch her up.

  “O. J., hey, man! Good to see you, looking like yourself! Are you feeling okay?”

  Startled by the man’s sudden approach, O. J. whipped around to find Milton “the Bishop” Hobbs staring down at him, his well-groomed goatee shining in the sunlight. To his right, Brandon and Monica were posed like fashion models, their eyes full of laughter and their bodies joined at the hip. Slowly taking Hobbs’s extended hand, O. J. stifled a confused smile. “Hey, Bishop, fancy seein’ you here! I’m doing all right, good as can be expected! Keep me in your prayers, though. A brother can always use ’em!”

  Glancing around the busy crowd, Hobbs nodded to another acquaintance. “Well, it’s good to see you’re doing better, O. J. I’ll be praying for your continued recovery. Look, brother, you take care. Somebody over there’s callin’ my name!” Slapping O. J. on the back, Hobbs shook hands with Brandon, his eyes moving between the Choirboy and Monica. “Well, I expect I’ll see you two lovebirds next week, since you’re staying around a few extra days, Brandon. Thanks for the invite, man. I’m gonna holler at those folks over there and get going! You got all my numbers, right, man?”

  Brandon nodded in recognition. “I got them, man. I’ll be in touch. Later.”

  As Hobbs made his way back into the crowd, O. J. fixed his friend with an inquiring look. “What possessed you to invite the Disciple? I thought you fell out with Hobbs and Gilliam. I know they came through for the center and all, but—”

  “O. J.,” Monica interrupted as she played with a button on Brandon’s rugby, “I think Brandon finally learned to live and let live. He has better things to do with his time than argue with Milton. Like spend time with me.”

  Smiling, Brandon placed a hand on O. J.’s shoulder. “Thank you, babe. O. J., I guess you could say I’m at peace with the fact my relationship with God is between me and he, nobody else. As long as that’s the case, I don’t have time for petty arguments about small details. There’s too much living to do to waste time bickering.”

  Rising slowly from his seat, O. J. turned to face his friends, his arms crossed over his chest. “Truer words we
re never spoken, friend. Hopefully, you and I’ll be able to talk more about spiritual stuff someday soon. This brother needs a few months, though.”

  “Well,” Brandon said, pointing over his shoulder at Terence, who was reclining a few feet away on a lounger chair, “I got one brother who’s ready now. My family and I are taking T to church with us tomorrow. After that he’s hollerin’ something about going to the temple with Matthew X next week. At least it’s a start for him.”

  Larry and Sheila burst into their midst, trailed closely by Terence. The couple had spent the better part of the afternoon tearing up the dance floor, which was actually a small section of the yard that had been designated for couples who wanted to cut a rug. They had been joined by little Andre Evans, who was napping up in Larry’s room now, various Highland students, Sheryl Gibson and her date, and Brandon’s brothers, who had drawn a lot of interest from the curious Highland sisters in attendance. Balancing a Seagram’s cooler in his right hand, Larry saluted his friends. “All right, it’s officially time for the men of 122 Moore to strut their stuff! We got ‘U Will Know’ by Black Men United coming up next on the sound system! This is gonna be our song, boys, you know what I’m sayin’? What we did for Ellis, what we’ve done for one another, we need a song to tie it all to!”

  As the bass of the stereo boomed with the song’s opening notes, O. J. playfully pushed his boy back a few steps. “Please, brother, ain’t you heard of giving glory to God? We need a gospel song up in this place!”

  Ignoring O. J.’s taunts, Terence began clapping his hands loudly, drawing the attention of the surrounding crowd. “O. J., either you with us or against us, bro! What up?” As the soothing voices of Tevin Campbell and El DeBarge crooned the opening lines, Brandon, Terence, and O. J. fell under the spell, joining Larry in front of the serving tables and swaying back and forth in fits of rhythmic passion. As the voices of Black Men United washed over one another, the brothers took turns imitating the singers. By the time the chorus came, the crowd could do nothing but hold their aching bellies as the men screeched, bellowed, and belted in unison with the recording. “Stand up tall and don’t you fall,” they roared, “and you will know!”