Outcast

by Lewis Ericson

  “So, you seein’ her again?”

  “I told her that I was busy, and I’d call her when I got the chance,” Tirrell boasted.

  “You itchin’ to call her, ain’t you?”

  Marquis was right, but Tirrell wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that a woman had captivated him so quickly. “Naw, like I said, I’ll call her when I get the chance.”

  “So, we still goin’ out to Kevin’s after work?”

  “I don’t really want to, but I guess I will for Noonie. I know it was her idea anyway. And it’s a good thing I got a little help.” He extracted a joint from the pocket of his work shirt and grinned devilishly.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “Scotty gave it to me. You know that white boy always got somethin’.”

  “T, c’mon, man.”

  “Not here. Later. Before we have to deal with all of Kevin’s shit.”

  “Naw, man. I’m good. Besides, I don’t want my moms to smell it on me. The woman’s got a nose like a bloodhound.”

  “C’mon, Markie-Mark.” Tirrell playfully threw his arm around Marquis’s neck. “You gonna take a shower before we ride out anyway, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “A’ight then. Loosen up. It’s the holiday.”

  14

  The air around Kevin’s house was thick with the smell of charbroiled meat. He stood out in the backyard turning slabs of ribs, chicken, and bratwursts over an open flame, while Pat busied herself in the kitchen finishing up potato salad and other side dishes to complement the cookout.

  “Baby, can I get you anything?” she yelled from the open patio door.

  “I could use some more water,” he responded.

  Pat filled a glass with ice and water from the freezer and took it out to him. She wiped the beads of perspiration from his brow with a paper towel—he took the glass and chugged down the water.

  “Where’s Micah?”

  “He’s upstairs trying to get your mother to play another video game with him.”

  “He must be driving her crazy by now.”

  “No, I think she’s all right. You know it’s been forever since she’s seen him. She’s havin’ the time of her life, and I think the merlot helps a lot.”

  “She’s drinkin’ around Micah?”

  Pat laughed. “She told him it was Kool-Aid.” “That’s not funny. She might just give him a taste.”

  “She damn well better not, or she and I are gonna have words.”

  “Have you heard from Noonie?”

  “She called a few minutes ago. She and Tirrell are on their way.”

  Kevin’s cheeks tightened.

  “Baby, c’mon now. You promised Miss Betty.”

  “I’m not going to do or say anything to upset Noonie. And after what she told us about Tasha, I’ll even try to be nice to Tirrell.”

  Pat kissed him. “I know you said you wanted to keep your distance, but I’m glad you’re makin’ an effort.”

  “Yeah, well hold the applause. If Tirrell starts acting stupid I’m gonna have to get in his ass.”

  Kevin and Pat looked up to see his mother opening the screen door. “Oooh, something sure smells good out here.”

  Gloria Patterson tucked her forty-nine years discreetly behind a box of Dark and Lovely hair color, giving a natural sheen to the short copper curls that framed her freckled, cinnamon complexion. The medium-framed woman, who routinely shaved at least ten years off her age, stepped out onto the patio dressed in a form-fitting pair of hot pink Capri pants and a low-cut white cotton blouse.

  “Hey, baby,” she said, with a smooth, honey-toned lilt in her voice. She greeted Kevin with a kiss on the cheek.

  “Everything all right in there, Mama?”

  “Everything’s fine. Why?”

  “Micah’s not bothering you, is he?”

  “Not one bit. I just needed to come down and freshen my . . . Kool-Aid.” She laughed.

  “Mama, you’re not letting Micah have any of that, are you?”

  “No, boy. Why would I do that?”

  “I’m just checking to be sure.”

  “Your sister called. She wanted me to tell you again that she was sorry that she couldn’t make the trip. That new boyfriend of hers gets all her attention these days.”

  “Jacqui could have brought him.”

  “I told her that, but her and some of her other friends had already planned to go off to Vegas for the weekend.”

  “You live in Oakland, Mama. Jacqui can go to Vegas anytime. I think I know why she didn’t want to come.”

  “You don’t think she’s going there to get married, do you?” Pat teased, diverting the direction of the conversation.

  “Not if she knows what’s good for her,” Gloria said. “If I get back to California and she tells me she had one of those tacky weddings I will shoot her and that boy.”

  Betty called from the interior of the house. “Anybody home?”

  “Noonie,” Micah shouted as he bounded down the stairs.

  “I hope she didn’t bring Tirrell with her,” Gloria sneered.

  “Mama, I already told you he was coming.”

  “I know what you told me, but maybe he did us all a favor and changed his mind.”

  “Be nice,” Kevin warned.

  She sucked her teeth, slid open the patio door, and stepped back into the kitchen. Pat followed.

  “Hey, Betty,” Gloria oozed with a plastered smile, embracing her. “How’ve you been?”

  Betty set a hefty pan of macaroni and cheese on the counter. “I’ve been fine, Gloria. How ’bout yourself?”

  “Couldn’t be better.”

  “You remember Anne Crawl, don’t you?”

  “Of course.” Gloria nodded. “How are you, Ms. Crawl?”

  “I’m doin’ real good,” the spirited woman replied. “You know, Kevin, my mouth has been watering for some of your barbeque all day. Here, I made one of my pineapple coconut upside-down cakes.”

  “That was nice of you, Miss Anne. I’ll take it,” Pat said, finding counter space for it.

  “Hail. Hail. The gang’s all here,” Tirrell proclaimed as he entered, his eyes hidden behind a dark pair of sunglasses. “Hey, sister-in-law.” He shot Gloria a side-glance. “Ms. Patterson.”

  “Tirrell.” She nodded coolly.

  They all stood there, oddly uncomfortable. Tirrell hadn’t seen his brother since their altercation, and he hadn’t seen his shrew of a mother for nearly three years. Clearly, as in Kevin’s case, there was no love lost between them.

  Tirrell looked around. “Where’s Jacqui?”

  “She didn’t want to come,” Gloria responded. “She found something better to do.”

  Kevin cut his eyes toward his mother and cleared his throat.

  “I really need to use the facilities. I’ve been taking these water pills and seems like I’ve been having to go every five minutes,” Anne Crawl blurted, pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose and flattening the windblown strands of her hair back into place.

  Kevin pointed the woman in the direction of the half bath off the side of the kitchen, before he turned to go back outside to tend the grill.

  “Where’d that Micah get off to?” Betty asked.

  “He’s out front with Marquis,” Tirrell replied and flopped down in a chair at the kitchen table. He helped himself to a handful of mixed nuts from an open container.

  Betty absently washed her hands at the kitchen sink, not thinking about the times she’d chided others about doing the same.

  Gloria leaned against the counter with a guarded eye on Tirrell. “Kevin tells me you got put out of the Army?”

  He stopped chewing and ran his tongue over his salty lips. “I’m thirsty. Pat, do you have any beer?”

  Pat turned to address him—Gloria cut her off.

  “I heard you got a court date coming up next week for a DUI. Do you really think you should be drinking?”

  “I can hold m
y liquor just like you can.”

  “Apparently not,” Gloria shot back.

  Enmity stirred like the fragrant hickory that rose from the grill.

  “I’ll just take some water,” Tirrell said.

  Pat pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator and passed it to him. He kicked back from the table and went outside to join Marquis and Micah, who had made their way to the backyard.

  “Gloria, was that necessary?” Betty asked, drying her hands on a paper towel.

  “What? I just didn’t think drinking was appropriate for somebody who’s already facing a DUI charge.”

  “You don’t have to be so ugly about it,” Betty chided.

  Gloria’s voice rose with condescension. “Ugly? I was just stating a fact.”

  Betty shook her head. “Look, we all know how you feel about Tirrell. You have made that clear more than once. That’s why Jacqui and Kevin could never accept him.”

  “I know you’re not putting this on me.”

  “Who else?” Betty sneered, tossing the towel into the trash. “Don’t you think it’s long past time for you to put all that nastiness that went on between you and Junior all those years ago behind you?”

  “Every time I look at that boy he reminds me of what Junior did,” Gloria shrieked. “He didn’t just walk out on me; he walked out on his kids. Tirrell has played you from the day he moved into your house, Betty. Keep on protecting him like you always have, just like you stuck up for his no-good daddy, and see what happens.”

  Pat attempted to run interference. “C’mon, y’all, don’t do this, not today.”

  Anne Crawl, who was coming back in from the bathroom, decided to go in the other direction to stay clear of the escalating family drama.

  “I never defended Junior,” Betty protested. “I didn’t like what he did to you and those children, and I told him so. But, there ain’t nothin’ none of us can do about that now.”

  “Not as long as you keep throwing Tirrell in our faces.”

  “You know, Gloria, it’s been a long time and a lot has happened. You need to stop bein’ so petty. Blamin’ Tirrell for somethin’ he had nothin’ to do with.”

  Kevin threw open the sliding glass of the patio door and stepped back inside. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”

  Pat shook her head. Her eyes darted between the two women. Kevin knew instantly that his mother’s liquid indulgence aided in loosening her tongue and she must have said something to set them off. He went over to her and tried to take the wineglass from her hand.

  She withdrew. “Kevin, what do you think you’re doing?”

  “You’ve had enough Kool-Aid.”

  “I’m the mama. You don’t tell me when I’ve had enough. I’m just speaking my mind. Somebody has to. I’m sick of my son always bein’ dragged in to clean up after Tirrell.”

  Betty put her hands on her hips and slowly walked toward her. “Is that what you think?”

  “You called him to go bail Tirrell out of jail, didn’t you? He’s forever into somethin’. When are you goin’ to cut him loose, Betty?”

  “I would no more cut Tirrell loose than I would these other children. I wish to hell everybody would stop treatin’ him like a pariah!”

  “Then maybe he needs to stop acting like one,” Gloria seethed.

  Betty stormed out of the kitchen and Pat ran after her.

  Kevin scratched his head and wiped his hands over his face. “Mama, why’d you do that?”

  “For the life of me I don’t understand why Betty favors Tirrell over you and Jacqui. You went to law school and Jacqui’s a programmer. Tirrell can’t seem to tie his own damn shoelaces without Betty’s help. I can’t stand the fact that you keep taking the back seat to your father’s bastard. Now, I’m sorry if I hurt Betty’s feelings, but I gotta look out for my children and Tirrell is not one of ’em.”

  Betty was seated on the sofa with her face in her hands when Marquis bounded in with Micah riding on his shoulders. She raised her head and Anne handed her a tissue. Pat took Micah in her arms.

  “Mommy, what’s wrong with Noonie?”

  “I’m all right, baby,” Betty said, flashing a half-hearted smile. “Where’s Tirrell?”

  “He uh . . . he heard y’all arguin’,” Marquis replied. “He took off.”

  Micah scrambled out of his mother’s arms and climbed into Betty’s lap.

  “Took off? Where?”

  “I don’t know. I tried to stop him, but I couldn’t.”

  Micah wrapped his arms around his great grandmother’s neck and kissed her cheek. “He’s okay, Noonie.”

  Kevin entered the room, forcing his mother to follow. “Baby, can you, uh, take Micah upstairs?”

  After Pat left the room Anne Crawl stood up and asked Marquis to join her in the kitchen.

  “Betty, I’m sorry,” Gloria began.

  “Are you?”

  “Not for saying what I said, but how it came out.”

  “Then I don’t think you’re sorry at all.” Betty stared at the floor, not looking up at the woman. “From day one you directed your anger at the wrong person, Gloria. Junior ain’t here, and neither is Tirrell’s mama, so he’s an easy target. But, he was as much a victim in all of this as any of you, and you don’t have no call to keep spewin’ your poison on these kids.”

  “Now wait a minute,” Gloria protested.

  “Let me finish,” Betty interjected. “You know I don’t feel no better about what my son did to this family than you do, but I never went around cussin’ him and callin’ him out of his name. A lot of damage was done. Him dyin’ like he did was a horrible thing. Maybe if y’all didn’t push Tirrell away like you do he wouldn’t feel like such a burden and he wouldn’t act up. He lost his mama and his daddy. She didn’t have no family to speak of, and all he had was me. So, if I showed him a little more attention than Kevin and Jacqui that’s just because he needed it more.”

  “So you’ve said, over and over again, and just look how good he turned out,” Gloria sneered.

  “Now, see. That’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about.”

  “Betty, you ain’t got to put up with me too much longer. I’m just gonna be here ’til Tuesday. When I leave I’ll take my poison with me.”

  Tirrell walked a mile before coming to the nearest MARTA station. The platform was virtually empty. His T-shirt was soaked through with perspiration. An unexpected cool breeze blew in from the east. It appeared that the rain that had been threatening for days was finally rolling in as well.

  He removed his outer shirt and wiped his brow with the driest part of it. He called Alex as he sat and waited for a train. She didn’t answer. He dialed Bobby.

  “What’s crackin’, T?”

  “I need to see you.”

  It took over an hour to get the train out of Alpharetta. There was a steady downpour falling over Midtown by the time he arrived at Bobby’s door. Another of Bobby’s infamous gatherings was in full swing. Smelling of salty perspiration and now drenched by the rain, Tirrell had misgivings about knocking, but he had traveled too far to turn back. A quick in and out, just like the last time, and he would be on his way.

  After several minutes a man answered the door. Tirrell recognized him immediately. It was the same man he fought at the restaurant the night of Tasha’s birthday.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” the man scoffed. “Looks like Bobby will invite any lowlife to his house.”

  Tirrell’s jaws tightened. “I guess you ought to know.” He peered over the man’s shoulder and caught a glimpse of Tasha.

  The man gave Tirrell the once-over. “You know I should’ve pressed charges against your ass. You fucked up a three hundred dollar suit. Looks like it would have been a waste of my time. You don’t look like you got a pot to piss in anyway.”

  Tirrell rubbed his hand over the moisture on his face. “Rickey, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Look, I don’t want no trouble. I didn’t come here to see you. I cam
e to see Bobby.”

  The man backed away from the door to allow Tirrell entry. When he stepped inside he saw Tasha laughing and chatting up a couple of other people near the bar. A lump formed in his throat when she glanced in his direction. She looked better than he remembered. The pounding music swallowed them up as she awkwardly averted her gaze.

  “Yo, T,” Bobby called out as he came out from the kitchen. “It’s about damn time you got here. What took you so long?”

  Tirrell shook his head and watched haplessly as Rickey Hicks made a show of kissing Tasha. He knew he had no right to be angry.

  “Damn, dude,” Bobby injected. “Every time you come to my place you look a hot mess.”

  “Just got caught in the rain, that’s all. Look, I don’t wanna impose or nothin’. Let’s just get to it and I’m out.”

  “Okay, cool. Let’s do it.”

  Bobby stepped outside, past Tirrell, onto the landing shielded by the eaves. Tirrell took one last look at Tasha before joining him.

  “So, what’s that dude’s story?” Tirrell asked. He slipped the pouch of cocaine into the pocket of his jeans and handed Bobby a tightly folded hundred dollar bill.

  “Who, Rick? He’s all right, one of my best customers and he brings in a lot of business. Hey, but did you check out who he was with? Didn’t you used to tap that?”

  “Ancient history.”

  “Damn! Ol’ girl gets around, huh?”

  “Yeah, a little more than I thought.”

  “That ass was lookin’ good, though,” Bobby noted. “No disrespect.”

  Tirrell ignored the comment. “Look, the rain is easin’ up. I’m gonna take off. Catch you later.”

  As he darted up the rain-drenched street Tirrell wondered if Tasha might be using. Maybe, like so many, she really didn’t know what kind of business Bobby was into and was just there for the party. Still, she was there, and if her new man was into recreational narcotics, how could she not be a partaker? Or was she as blissfully ignorant of Rickey Hick’s foibles as she had been of his?

  Tirrell stumbled home after one in the morning. Betty awoke and sat up in her recliner.