Outcast

by Lewis Ericson

  “You may as well go wash your hands and come get somethin’ to eat,” Betty exclaimed.

  Tirrell vacillated between relief and sadness as he put the boy down and scooted him back toward the table.

  “So, this was your big surprise?” he heard Kevin snap as he stepped into the bathroom.

  “Kevin, stop it. Be nice, now,” Betty admonished.

  Tirrell washed his hands and threw cold water on his face in an effort to awaken from the dream he felt trapped in. But, this was no dream. Reality was lurking on the other side of the door. They were all waiting to insist on answers that he didn’t feel obligated or ready to give. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall.

  “Baby, are you all right in there?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m okay.”

  “The food is gettin’ cold.”

  “I’ll be right out.”

  As the water ran he remembered the little something he had stuffed in his blue jeans pocket. He opened the medicine cabinet and found an unused razor blade, and knelt down on the floor next to the commode. He pulled a dollar bill and the small plastic pouch from his pocket. He tapped a small amount out onto the lowered lid of the toilet, separated it into two lines with the blade, and rolled up the bill. If I’m going to get through this, I’m gonna need some help.

  Pressing his index finger to close his left nostril, he put the tip of the dollar bill into the right and bent over to snort one of the lines. With a deep inhale he ingested the powdery white substance, then repeated the process on the other side. He took a deep breath and threw his head back, waiting for the euphoric sensation he desperately needed. He stood and wiped the residue of cocaine from the toilet lid and licked his fingers. After stuffing the pouch back into his pocket he turned off the faucet, cleared his throat, and went to join the others.

  “Hey, Pat. How’s it goin’?” Tirrell said to his sister-in-law as he took the seat next to Tasha.

  “Things are good.” The woman smiled politely. “How’ve you been?”

  “Couldn’t be better.”

  Tirrell leaned over to kiss Tasha’s cheek and she pulled away.

  “Well, well,” his brother Kevin began. “The prodigal son has returned.”

  Both Betty and Pat shot him simultaneous glowers.

  Tirrell pretended not to notice and reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes in front of him. “Everything smells great, Noonie.”

  Betty smiled. “I made one of your favorite desserts, too.”

  “Peach cobbler or German chocolate cake?”

  “Peach cobbler.” She nodded with pride.

  “That’s what’s up.” He beamed, filling his plate with several slices of meatloaf, hearty scoops of green beans, and generous squares of hot, buttered cornbread.

  Conversation stalled. Utensils clicked on plates, punctuating the silence. Pat busied herself assisting her son to get more food in his mouth than on the tablecloth around his plate.

  Betty strained for something to say. “Reverend Eason really preached this morning. Didn’t he, Pat?”

  “Yes, ma’am, he sure did.”

  “What was the title of the sermon again?”

  Tirrell shot his grandmother a side-glance and held back a simper. He knew the woman could tell you every sermon her pastor preached for at least the last three weeks.

  Kevin put down his fork, picked up another piece of bread, and glared at Tirrell. “So, how long have you been home, little brother?”

  Tirrell didn’t look up from his plate. Kevin’s tone dripped with contempt. If he could have called him a bastard at the table and not gotten popped in the mouth by their grandmother, he would have.

  “I got in Thursday night.”

  Eight years and oceans of misunderstanding separated the brothers. Kevin was as tall as Tirrell and possessed the same distinct facial features as their father had. He had his mother’s eyes, but his father’s intense scowl; all the Ellis men had it. Stubbornness was another trait they shared. These qualities had served Kevin well on his college debate team, and continued to do so in his position working in the prosecutor’s office of Fulton County. His demeanor was as certain as his confident gait. Kevin’s skin tone was a shade darker than his brother’s, and he wore his hair short and faded just as Tirrell did. Aesthetically, one of the only other differences in their appearances was that Kevin sported a neatly trimmed moustache and beard.

  “So, you’re on some kind of leave?”

  “Yeah.” Tirrell took a break from shoveling his food in his mouth to wash it down with the glass of ice-cold lemonade.

  “How long will you be here?”

  The interrogation was not completely unexpected.

  Betty interceded. “Kevin, let him eat.”

  Kevin looked at his wife. She arched her brow and pursed her lips in agreement—he returned to his plate.

  Tirrell leaned into Tasha, who’d barely looked at him the entire meal. “You look nice,” he whispered.

  Tasha rolled her eyes and threw her napkin on the table. “Excuse me.” She jumped up and bolted for the door. Tirrell chased after her and stopped her on the porch.

  “Let go of me, Tirrell!”

  “Tasha, baby, come on. All I said was that you look nice.”

  “Where were you all night?”

  “I . . . I was hangin’ out with Marquis and some of the fellas.”

  “You’re lyin’.” Tasha glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one was watching. She lowered her voice. “Okay, if you were with Marquis where’d you go? What did y’all do?”

  “We just hung out. Watched some TV. Drank a few beers, then we went out to the Compound.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Yeah, it got late, so I just crashed at his place so I wouldn’t wake Noonie up comin’ in.”

  Tasha clenched her teeth. “Then, why you come in here stinkin’ like you been with some other bitch?”

  Tirrell sighed, threw his head back, and wiped his hand over his face. “Tasha, c’mon . . .”

  “Don’t Tasha me. You reek of cigarettes and nasty-ass perfume. I hope you had a good time.”

  “C’mon, it wasn’t like that.”

  “Why you gotta lie, Tirrell?”

  “You don’t need to know what I’m doin’ every hour of the day and night!”

  “You were ready to jump all over some guy at the movies just ’cause he wanted to help me carry popcorn. And you come up in here after bein’ out all night and you don’t expect me to have somethin’ to say about it. If we’re supposed to be together I got a right—”

  “Whoa, hold up . . . You ain’t got a right to a damn thing. I’m a grown-ass man, not no little boy. You don’t have to chase after me. Poppin’ up over here all the time. Tryin’ to get in good with my grandmother and goin’ to church like you all holy. Ain’t no ring on your finger, and even if it was you ain’t got to keep tabs on me!”

  Their collective anger governed their tones. The commotion brought Betty to the door. Tasha turned away to keep her from seeing the tears welling up in her eyes. Realizing he may have gone too far, Tirrell leaned against the railing with his head down.

  “Y’all all right out here?”

  “Yeah, Noonie. We’re good.”

  “Tasha?”

  “I’m fine, Miss Betty.”

  “We’re gonna have cobbler soon. I got some vanilla ice cream to go with it. Y’all wanna come back inside?”

  Tasha turned to face her. “I think I’m gonna pass on dessert. I need to go.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She glanced over at Tirrell, who hadn’t looked up. “Yeah, I just need to get my purse.”

  Betty cleared the doorway and Tasha went in to retrieve her purse and say good-bye to the others. She hugged Betty and thanked her for inviting her to dinner. She said nothing to Tirrell as she jumped in her car and sped off.

  “Tirrell?”

  “I’ll be in soon, Noonie.”

  Betty hesitated before stepping back
inside the house.

  Tirrell’s cell phone rang; it was Bobby. He would have to call him back. He slipped the phone back into the pocket of his jeans and removed the plastic pouch of cocaine.

  Before he could go back into the house, Kevin came out. Tirrell rightfully assumed it wasn’t his decision. He quickly stuffed the pouch back inside his pocket. They stood staring out over the neighborhood with no particular focus, or interest in the residents who waved in recognition.

  “What was that?” Kevin inquired.

  “What?”

  “What you just put in your pocket.”

  “Nothin’ for you to worry about, Kev.” Tirrell opened his arms and smiled a big, toothy grin. “You wanna give your li’l brother some love?”

  Kevin gave him the once-over and snarled.

  “C’mon, man. How long we gonna do this?” Tirrell grabbed and heartily embraced him.

  Kevin’s body tensed and jerked loose. “Man, you have lost your raggedy-ass mind. Don’t you ever do that again.”

  “I was just showin’ you how glad I was to be home.”

  “Yeah, I can smell your happiness, and everybody else can too.”

  Tirrell caught a whiff of himself and realized he should have tried to clean up better.

  Kevin stared off in the distance. “You never said how long your leave was.”

  “Awhile.”

  “How long’s awhile?”

  “A month,” Tirrell snapped. “Is that a’ight with you?”

  “Your girl took off in a hurry. She didn’t even finish eating.”

  “So?”

  “So, I’m guessing that’s not her scent all over you. You just don’t have any class about yourself, do you? It’s obvious that Tasha likes you, and you want to treat her like she’s just another piece of ass. ”

  “Why is this your business exactly?”

  “Look, I don’t really care whether you two work it out. I do care about Noonie, and I thought you did too.”

  “I do.”

  “So, this is how you show it?” Kevin turned to face him. “Let me make something clear to you. However long you’re going to be here, you need to make sure that whatever other business you got goin’ on doesn’t come back on Noonie.”

  “You make it sound like I’m gonna do somethin’ to hurt her.”

  “Just make sure you don’t.”

  “Or what?”

  “I’m gon’ be all over your ass.”

  “Should I be turned on or scared?”

  Kevin grabbed Tirrell’s arm and pushed him into one of the columns that supported the front of the house. Tirrell tried to squirm free, but Kevin’s grip tightened.

  “I’m tellin’ you one more time. Don’t bring your shit up in this house. The sooner your leave is over, the better for all of us, especially Noonie. She’s not stupid, you know. Now, she went to a lot of trouble to prepare this dinner. The least you could do is come in and finish eating it.”

  “Daddy.”

  Kevin looked over his shoulder and saw his son peering through the storm door.

  Tirrell yanked his arm away.

  “Noonie said for me to come and get you.”

  “I’ll be right there, Micah. Go on back inside.”

  The boy hesitated at the door before doing as he was told.

  Kevin turned back to Tirrell. “I meant what I said, bruh! And you may wanna do yourself a favor and take a shower. You dumbass.”

  Kevin didn’t have Tirrell’s temper, but his presence and manner of speech could be as intimidating as both his father and grandfather. By the time Kevin had learned of Tirrell’s existence he was just about to graduate from South Cobb High School. He’d overheard his mother, Gloria, and his father, Curtis, arguing about the “Latin whore” he’d been cheating with. That revelation tore at the heart of the relationship he’d enjoyed with his father, believing that he was his only son.

  Before Kevin went off to college, he was already distancing himself from his father. He died while he was away and Kevin never forgave himself for not being there, and he couldn’t bring himself to forgive his father for what he’d done to their family. Kevin heaped all of his unresolved rage on to Tirrell. It didn’t help that Betty wasn’t particularly impartial when it came to the unexpected new addition. “Tirrell needs me. He doesn’t have anybody else,” she’d say. When Kevin came back to visit for holidays it galled him to see Tirrell living in his grandparents’ house—calling her “Noonie.”

  There wasn’t a lot of conversation that passed between Kevin and Pat on the ride home. She filed through his music collection and found the John Legend CD that he liked and slid it into the player. Patricia Ellis had a no-nonsense way about her that Kevin was attracted to from the first time they met.

  He shot her a side-glance and smiled. “You think that’s gonna help?”

  “It couldn’t hurt.”

  He reached for her hand and kissed it, allowing the easy melodies to pacify him. Pulling into the driveway of their suburban Alpharetta home, Kevin inhaled and exhaled slowly as he lay back on the headrest before turning off the ignition.

  He got out and pulled his sleeping son from the car seat in the back. Pat went ahead and unlocked the front door. Kevin proceeded on up the stairs to put Micah down for the night. The boy barely woke up while his father pulled off his church clothes and slipped him into his pajamas.

  Pat stepped into the doorway of her son’s room. “I can warm the cobbler up if you want some.”

  “No. I’m good.”

  “Okay, I’ll put it in the refrigerator.”

  Kevin kissed his son good night. He went up the hall to the master bedroom, pulled off his clothes, and got ready for bed. Pat was half out of her dress when she came back up the stairs.

  “Can you believe this shit?” Kevin seethed, climbing into bed. “If I had known all Noonie wanted was to spring Tirrell on us, I never would have agreed to go to dinner.”

  “C’mon, baby. I thought you were over all of that. Let it go.”

  “I am over it.”

  “You don’t sound like it.”

  She stepped out of her dress and went to hang it in the walk-in closet before proceeding into the bathroom to shower. Kevin was half-heartedly watching the news when she returned.

  She brushed her layered brunette locks back behind her ears and sat down on the bed to continue her nightly regimen, squeezing lotion into her hands and smoothing it on her long, silky legs. “You used to help me with this, remember?”

  Kevin cozied up next to her. He pulled her legs onto his lap, filled his hands with lotion, and absently rubbed it in. “I caught him with something when I went out on the porch earlier.”

  “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

  He shook his head and sighed.

  “Okay, what was it?”

  “I don’t know. It could have been a piece of paper—it could have been something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “Knowing Tirrell, it was probably a bag of weed.”

  “Did you ask him about it?”

  “If it was drugs, he wouldn’t have owned up to it. I just don’t want any shit when it comes to Noonie. I’ll be glad when his ass goes back to North Carolina. Maybe he’ll end up pulling a tour in Iraq or Afghanistan—anywhere but here.”

  “Stop. You don’t mean that.”

  “He needs to grow up, baby.”

  “He has to find his own way, Kevin. You can’t make him be what you want him to be.”

  “I want him to be gone.”

  “Kevin. You’re not kids anymore. Like it or not, he is your brother.”

  The look in Kevin’s eyes let her know that he was resolute. They turned off the lamps on their respective sides of the bed and Pat wrapped her arm around his hairy chest. She then offered her lips for his kiss.

  “Good night.”

  “That’s it,” he sulked.

  “I’ve got to get up early. You know all the overtime I’ve had to pull la
tely.”

  Pat turned her back to Kevin with her rear pressed into his crotch. He was too wound up to sleep. He kissed her shoulder and gently ran his hand up under her nightgown.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “What does it feel like?” he teased, thrusting his erection forward.

  “Kevin, I gotta get up early.”

  “I’m up now.”

  His hand swept over her soft buttocks to the front of her thighs. His fingers made their way under the elastic of her panties and tugged at them until they found what they were searching for. Pat acquiesced, turned over, and opened her legs, allowing him better access. He pressed his mouth onto hers and pulled off his boxers. He then slid her panties off and kissed and sucked a trail down her neck, shoulders, and breasts.

  “I can’t be late for work,” she panted.

  “I’ll write you a note.”

  He came up on his knees with the head of his penis aimed at its target. His hands gently caressed the supple flesh of her inner thighs as he worked his way downward. Pat gasped and arched her back upward; her nipples were prone for attention. After massaging her clitoris to rapture his nimble fingers glided up her stomach toward the mounds of flesh that eagerly awaited his touch. He didn’t disappoint. His tongue lapped and his lips sucked each one with passion and fervor. Slowly working his hips he pressed into her and she opened up to receive him.

  “Damn.”

  After a while he bucked and grunted until the muscles in his backside, thighs, and legs stiffened.

  “Damn,” he cried, jerking into orgasm.

  He collapsed onto her, smothering her with kisses until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  Tirrell and his issues were no longer of paramount concern.

  5

  Tirrell’s repeated attempts to call Tasha went unanswered. He thought about going to her apartment, but taking the train at this hour on a Sunday night was out of the question. Betty was already off to bed. He sat in solitude outside on the porch, smoking a cigarette, surrounded by the stars. It was a clear night. Weathermen clamored about the drought, and the grass in and around the neighborhood testified to that fact. He listened to Bobby’s message about the “gift” he’d left in his pocket, and decided to call Marquis.