Still Candy Shopping

by Swinson, Kiki

  “That’s Keon!” she screamed. They all whirled around. “Keon?” she called out, kicking off her slippers and running towards her boys’ bedroom. Ben was right behind his mother and Drake was on his heels.

  “Ahhhhh!” Celeste belted out when she crossed the kids’ bedroom door. The baby was flopping on the floor and foaming at the mouth. His eyeballs were completely rolled up into his head and his body jerked horribly.

  “Keon! Oh my God!” Celeste let out a bloodcurdling scream.

  “What the fuck!” Drake screamed as well, running over to Celeste and Keon on the floor.

  With her hands trembling fiercely, Celeste hoisted the baby’s limp body off the floor. Baby Keon had stopped moving and his eyes were still rolling. White foam continued dribbling out of his lips.

  Celeste rose from the floor and started running with Keon still in her arms. There was no phone in the house. “Somebody call 911!” she hollered as she tried rocking the baby back to consciousness. “Keon, wake up baby!” she repeated as she ran towards the front door. “Help me! Oh God! Keon!”.

  Drake fumbled with his cell phone, dialing 911 as fast as he could. His car had just got repossessed so they had to wait on 911 to send an ambulance. Celeste was going crazy outside their apartment, with Keon still in her arms.

  “Keon!! Wake up baby!” she continued to plead with her baby as she tried shaking him back to life.

  Ben was paralyzed with fear.

  “What the fuck is goin’ on?” Drake huffed, grabbing Ben by the shoulders trying to find out what happened. “What happened to him?” Drake screamed at Ben.

  “I . . . I don’t know,” Ben lied, his eyes opened as wide as they could go.

  Drake raced back outside when he heard the ambulance sirens. Ben went back into his bedroom and stood there staring down at the nightstand drawer he had left open. He tightened his fists. Like a robot, Ben reached into the drawer and picked up his baggie of dope. It was more than half empty. In fact, there was just a dusting of the drugs left. It looked as if Baby Keon had spilled the dope, gotten it on his hands and put his hands into his mouth. It was high grade uncut heroin. A small amount of the drug could’ve put a grown ass man six feet under.

  Ben was supposed to get fifteen stacks for the bundle he had once he broke it down, cut it and bagged it into nicks and dimes like Deezo had told him to do. Now he had to get rid of what wasn’t spilled out all over the floor. He couldn’t let his mother find out that he had dope in the house and left it around for the baby to get. She would break his neck if she ever knew about it. He started wiping up the rest of the powder with his hands. His heart was racing like crazy and he was sweating now.

  “What the fuck I’ma tell Deezo,” Ben whispered to himself. His stomach cramped up. He was thinking about the consequences that might come from Deezo for this one. But he was also very worried about the condition of his baby brother. Ben could hear his mother outside screaming as the ambulance sirens pierced his ears. Ben continued to frantically clean up the powder. He had to get the drugs out of the house right away.

  “Ben! What the fuck you doin’? Let’s go, the ambulance just left!” Drake boomed from the doorway.

  “I’m not going. I . . . I can’t see him like that,” Ben said nervously.

  “Fuck you, lil nigga!” Drake cursed. He didn’t have time to even see what Ben was doing. Drake left and Ben felt like somebody had just kicked him in the heart. He was scared and nervous. He didn’t believe in God, but he started to pray that Keon didn’t die. That occupied one part of his brain. The other part was worried about how he was going to make the money back for the package. Deezo was expecting some loot off the package as well.

  When Ben had gotten all of the drugs cleaned up, he left the house. With the money he had counted prior to the incident in his pocket, he hailed a cab and went to the hospital. Ben ran into the emergency room entrance and looked around for his mother and Drake. He spotted Celeste sitting in a chair rocking back and forth and Drake was standing up with a seriously angry look on his face.

  “What did they say?” Ben asked his mother nervously. She looked up at him with swollen eyes.

  “They are working on him, Ben . . . he can’t die Ben. What happened in there?” Celeste cried, looking at her oldest son pitifully.

  “I don’t know,” Ben lied. “I came out there to get this no good nigga off you and I left Keon in the room. I thought he was gonna follow me out the room. I was only gone for a minute, Keon was only in there for a minute.” Ben knew the half-truth had to do, he couldn’t tell his mother the whole story.

  Drake was too distraught to even respond to Ben’s smart ass comment about him being a no good ass nigga. Celeste continued to rock, trying to calm herself down. Then she looked up and saw the doctor walking towards them. She stood up, her knees practically knocking against each other.

  “Ms. Early?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes,” Celeste answered, her voice hoarse from screaming.

  “I’m very sorry,” the doctor began. “We couldn’t save your baby—”

  Celeste exploded into ear shattering screams. “Noooo! Please! God! No!” She doubled over like she had been gut punched. She was in great pain. Ben had tears welling up in his eyes too but he tried to play tough. He wanted to be strong for his mother.

  Drake punched the wall, then kicked a waiting room chair. Keon was not Drake’s only baby, but it didn’t matter. He was still feeling hurt over the death of his son.

  “Why?” Celeste screamed.

  The doctor held his head down. “Ms. Early, we have to do an autopsy since whatever caused the baby’s death happened outside of the hospital. It seemed like the baby’s pupils were severely dilated indicating that he may have ingested something into his system,” the doctor tried explaining through Celeste’s screams.

  “Whatcha mean, like he ate some shit that killed him or something?” Drake asked in a gruff tone. That was how he dealt with his grief, he got angry and violent.

  “Yes. Like he took in something that poisoned his system or caused him some kind of toxicological shock,” the doctor continued using big words none of them could understand.

  Ben was silent. His heart was beating out of control.

  “You can see him before we take him down,” the doctor said.

  Celeste was so weak she could hardly walk as they all followed the doctor to the room where Keon lay on a small bed. When they walked into the room there were nurses cleaning up all the papers and tubes and mess from where they had tried to work on the baby to save him.

  Celeste opened her swollen eyes. “Agghh!” she hollered when she saw her baby lying there. His little eyes were closed and his cherubic face looked like he was just sleeping. Drake and Ben helped Celeste over to the bed. Her knees buckled. “God! Why! Why my baby?” she continued to cry. She reached out and touched him. His skin was still a little warm.

  “You can hold him,” one of the nurses said softly.

  She picked up Keon’s limp body and handed him to Celeste. Celeste cradled the chubby, lifeless toddler against her chest. “Mmmmm,” she moaned as she rocked her baby back and forth.

  Ben stood close, watching, his mind racing with thoughts. It was his fault. If I had just put the drugs away before I left the room, none of this would’ve happened, he thought to himself. Now his brother was dead.

  Celeste had to almost be peeled away from her baby. Drake had forgotten all about their fight and Ben just stayed quiet. In his head, he kept blaming himself repeatedly. There was no way he could tell his mother what happened. He knew he had to keep his secret to himself—hopefully forever.

  The next day, Celeste was asleep. The doctor had prescribed her a sedative so she could sleep without the memories of Keon keeping her up. The loud knocks on the apartment door stirred Ben from his sleep. Drake had left. He was in and out. He didn’t really live with Celeste and the kids.

  Ben jumped up and looked around as the knocking continued. His heart started
racing, thinking it might be Deezo looking for him. Ben listened and heard the knocks again. He got completely up and pulled on a pair of basketball shorts. He rubbed sleep from his eyes and made his way to the door. He looked through the peep hole, and felt a sigh of relief when it wasn’t Deezeo.

  “Who is it?” he screamed.

  “It’s the police! We’re looking for Celeste Early,” a voice filtered through the door.

  Ben’s heart started hammering in his chest. “She sleep!” he yelled back.

  “Wake her up. This is about her baby, Keon. We need to speak to her immediately.”

  “Shit,” Ben said under his breath. He walked to his mother’s bedroom, wishing he could undue all of this. Maybe they want to tell her something else, Ben rationalized in his mind. He shook Celeste’s shoulder, but she didn’t budge.

  “Ma!” Ben called her and shook her some more.

  “Mmm,” Celeste moaned. The sedatives had her in a deep sleep. There was no way with her baby being dead that she would’ve been able to fall asleep.

  “Ma, the cops are at the door. They wanna speak to you,” Ben told her.

  Celeste fought against how drowsy the sedatives made her feel and opened her eyes. “What?” she asked, still dazed.

  “There are cops at the door,” Ben repeated himself. “They said they need to talk to you about Keon.”

  Celeste sat up. “Open the door,” she grumbled.

  Celeste forced herself to get out of bed. Feeling tired and depressed, she put on her bathrobe and went into the bathroom. She splashed water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy and looked as if somebody had used her as a punching bag. Celeste didn’t care. She could hear the police talking in her tiny living room. She dragged her feet out of the bathroom and went into the living room. Her hair was wild and unkempt on top of her head, and she still looked a little drowsy from the sedatives. “Can I help ya’ll,” Celeste said in a raspy, hoarse voice.

  “Ma’am, we need to talk to you about your baby son, Keon Early,” the plain clothed cop stated. “The hospital social worker contacted us today.”

  Celeste looked the cop up and down. Since he wasn’t in uniform, she knew he was a detective. That was common knowledge in the ’hood.

  “And,” Celeste said, moving closer to them.

  “Ms. Early, you’re gonna have to get dressed and come with us,” the detective retorted. “We need to ask you some questions down at the station.”

  “Questions . . . about what? My son is dead, that’s all the answers you need,” Celeste snapped, hugging herself tightly.

  “Ms. Early, it’s important that you cooperate. Your baby’s autopsy and toxicology report show that he died of an overdose of heroin,” the detective said flatly, showing no emotion or respect for a grieving mother.

  Celeste couldn’t react. The sedatives had her brain on slow motion. “What? No you making a mistake here officer . . . don’t nobody in here take no heroin,” Celeste said, her voice firm, yet slurred, with denial.

  The other detective walked closer to her. “Well, you look pretty high right now,” he said snidely.

  “I don’t get high!” Celeste growled at him.

  “From the looks of things around here, it seems like you might be lying to us,” detective number one interjected. They were looking around at the cramped and junky apartment. There were clothes piled up on the couch, dishes spilling out of the sink and the furniture was old, some of it broken down. Celeste wasn’t the best at keeping a clean house, but she wasn’t on drugs.

  “Oh, now being poor means I’m on heroin! I may not have much but I ain’t no dope fiend. I know ya’ll think all us mothers in the ’hood get high, but I got news for you . . . this one don’t. Ain’t no way my baby got no heroin in his system . . . I don’t even allow drugs in my damn house!” Celeste spat.

  Ben felt like he was going to faint. Shit! Now they know Keon got to the drugs! Ben screamed in his mind. Now he not only had to worry about what he was going to tell Deezo about the missing package, but the cops were investigating. He felt as if he would throw up.

  “Miss, you can get dressed or we can take you down like this,” the detective said, his tone nasty and demanding.

  Celeste began to cry. “What about my baby? He gotta have a funeral! Ya’ll arresting me? I can’t believe this shit! I can’t even grieve for my dead child!” she screamed, shaking her head left to right.

  “We want to take you down for questioning. You may also have to submit to a drug test and we’ll be back with a search warrant for the house,” the detective explained. It was as if they didn’t even care about her feelings. Celeste knew that shit meant she was not coming back home. Shaking all over, she dragged her feet towards her bedroom. One of the detectives followed her.

  “Can I get dressed in peace?” she growled. He stepped back and stood outside her bedroom door while she pulled on some clothes. Celeste stepped back into the hallway with tears in her eyes. This was like her worst nightmare coming to life.

  She looked at Ben with sadness and tears in her eyes. “Ben, how did this all happen?” Celeste asked.

  The detectives started escorting her out of the apartment. “You got somebody to take care of him?” the detective asked Celeste, nodding at Ben.

  “No, it’s just me,” she said sadly.

  “C’mon boy, you gon’ have to come with us too, until we figure out whether or not your mother is coming home,” one of the detectives told Ben. Ben just stood there dumbfounded. He knew leaving his apartment with the cops wasn’t a good look. Deezo always had people watching.

  “Ben, how did all of this happen?” Celeste asked again, looking at him desperate for an answer or any words that could help her figure it all out.

  Ben had a simple look on his face. His mind was going a mile a minute. He was thinking about how this all happened—how it all got started.

  A Sucker 4 Candy Amaleka McCall

  Chapter 1

  Three years earlier.

  “Oh daddy, yeah, you fuck me so good! Yeah, beat this pussy up! Ohhh, I’m cumming, daddy!” Celeste screamed in ecstasy as yet another one of her boyfriends laid the pipe.

  Ben lay in his bed with his arm over his eyes listening to his mother fuck once again. This was nothing new to him. His mother’s door had been like a revolving door since he was very young and she was still broke as hell. Ben pulled his knees up to his chest when he felt the hunger pains ripping through his belly again. That made him angry. His mother had all of these dudes in and out, but there was never anything to eat in the house. He turned over onto his stomach thinking that maybe laying on it would help the hunger pains subside. It didn’t help one bit. He put his pillow over his head to drown out more sounds of his mother getting her back blown out. “Fucking ho!” Ben cursed, jumping up out of the bed. He could see the sun rising out of his window. It was almost time for him to run his paper route and make some money. That was the only way he would eat. It was far from the first or the fifteenth of the month, which meant Celeste couldn’t afford any food.

  Ben walked into the small kitchen in the project apartment he shared with his mother. He opened the refrigerator, there was nothing inside but an open can of Budweiser beer. It was the same story in the cabinets, minus the beer. When Ben opened the shabby cabinet doors, inside was bare except for the one or two hungry roaches that ran. He knew this beforehand but it was force of habit to open the refrigerator and cabinet doors with the hope food suddenly appeared.

  “Shit, ya’ll niggas at the wrong house looking for crumbs,” Ben said to the roaches. He slammed the cabinets hoping the noise would disturb his mother’s groove. It didn’t work. She just kept right on doing her thing.

  Ben went back in his room and slid on the one pair of sneakers he owned—a beat down pair of Nike Uptowns that used to be white but now looked more like dark brown. Celeste had finally broke down and bought Ben a pair of sneakers about eight months prior. The shits were run down i
n the back, dirty and starting to rip on top. Ben was embarrassed to wear them to school. At thirteen, while other kids were rocking fly gear, Ben had two pairs of jeans that he played switch-a-round with, two hoodies and a few dingy white t-shirts. That was all his wardrobe consisted of. He had stopped going to school because of the way the kids teased him about his clothes.

  As soon as he had turned thirteen, fed up with being hungry, Ben had walked his Brownsville neighborhood trying to find a job. Then he happened upon a new store that had just opened up near Pitkin Avenue. The owner told Ben if he delivered fliers to houses and other stores he would get paid for each one that he got rid of. That worked for a while, but the owner caught on that Ben was just dumping the fliers and coming back to get paid. Finally, Ben graduated to a full-time paperboy route. He would ride his pieced together bike to the Daily News newspaper depot, pick up his papers for the day and make deliveries in nice neighborhoods. Ben was making $100 a week and he thought it was so much money. It was to him. At least he could buy some food. Celeste always had her hands out for a little bit of the money too.

  Ben hurried up and got dressed. He was too damn hungry to play around. He needed to do his paper route, get his chips up and get something to eat quick fast. He walked to his mother’s bedroom door and kicked the bottom of it. “I’m goin’ to work!” Ben yelled to his mother. “Shouldn’t tell your ass shit,” he said softly to himself.

  “A’ight, go make that paper, boy,” Celeste replied, giggling at the man she was locked up in the room with.

  Ben shook his head in disgust and prepared to leave the house. He picked up his raggedy bike and wheeled it out of his small apartment. Outside, he climbed onto the bike and rode down his block. He passed the usual neighborhood corner boys with their flashy chains and fresh gear. They were out there playing cee-lo and talkin’ shit, their usual daily routine.