“I’m always in trouble.” He shrugs. “I have to go. I hate it, but I have to.”
“Was that your . . . uh . . .?”
“Sister. My dad’s giving her shit because I’m not there. Sometimes I just can’t take it. Ya know?”
She nods. “Does . . . does your mom not live with you?”
Dari stares straight ahead, quietly inhaling and exhaling.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to be nosy,” Lily offers.
“No. My mom does not live with me. She lives in the ground.”
Lily gasps a little, but then tries to cover it up.
“I’m really sorry, Dari.”
“Why? Did you do it?”
Lily shakes her head and looks away in shame. He didn’t mean to cause that.
“I’m sorry, Lily.” He stamps the cigarette out on the ground. “My family brings out my worst. I did tell you I’m an asshole.” He stands up and Lily remains seated for a few seconds. Dari reaches his hand out to her and she takes it and joins him.
They walk uptown. Along the way, Dari stops with no warning.
“What’s wrong?” Lily asks.
Dari gapes at a wall. When she follows his eye, she sees what he sees: in the middle of a mess of random graffiti gibberish is a small, yet pristine etching of Josephine Baker in a silvery flapper dress. It stands out on this old ugly wall. It’s perfect. He goes up to it and touches it.
“Somebody did this,” he muses. “Somebody cared.”
“Do you ever do things like that?”
“Hmm?” He’s still tracing the image in awe.
“Like tagging or whatever it’s called? Do you do that?”
Dari sharply turns to Lily. “What does that mean?”
“You know? Like your name or your signature or something? I don’t know. You know what I mean.”
“Because I draw and I’m black, I must be a tagger?”
“NO! I didn’t mean it like that at all!”
“Then why did you ask?”
“Because you were so into the Josephine Baker, I thought maybe you did stuff out in public too! I don’t know.”
“What’s the problem?” A police officer appears out of nowhere, startling them both. Dari sighs.
“Someone gonna answer me?”
“N-no problem,” Lily stutters. Regardless, the officer decides to search Dari. Hands against the wall, waiting for it to end, Dari just stares at the ground. I am an artist, I am a thinker, I am a person, you goddamn pig. When he’s done, the officer backs away, satisfied (unsatisfied?) to find Dari clean. He makes a note on a clipboard.
“Where you supposed to be?” he asks Dari.
Dari’s jaw tightens.
“He was just walking me home,” Lily explains.
The cop gives Dari yet another once-over and then walks away without saying another word.
“That was awful,” Lily cries.
Dari shrugs. “Happens.”
“Why? You weren’t doing anything.”
Dari rolls his eyes. “For real? Didn’t you know I was born guilty?”
“I’m sorry. I can be dumb sometimes. I just wasn’t thinking,” she says.
“Not something you have to think about, is it?”
Lily just stares at him. Fear and confusion clouding her face. He looks back at Josephine, wishing she could pop off the wall and provide some guidance. She doesn’t.
“I have trouble trusting people,” he finally says.
“Me too.”
“I’d like to trust you.”
“So trust me.”
He looks back at Lily, uncertainty in his eyes.
“Truth,” she blurts.
“What?”
“Come on! Pretend you just asked me and I picked truth. Ask me anything you want. I won’t lie to you. You can trust me.” Her voice sounds a hair higher than before, as though she’s working hard to sound natural.
Dari stares at her for a moment, his expression of doubt melting into one of slight concern.
“Why don’t you have any friends?”
Her whole being freezes up and her already pallid skin turns an unnatural shade of white. He asked the wrong question. He has to take it back. Now. In the blink of an eye, before he can apologize or say anything to reverse the situation, he notices the light dusting of freckles on Lily’s nose. The tiny flecks of amber in her dark brown eyes, and a stray spiral of her hair that stubbornly falls in her face no matter how many times she pulls it behind her ear. And he has to catch his breath in that eye blink of time. What an inconvenient moment to suddenly see how fucking pretty this girl is.
“I slit my wrists and went to a hospital. But just for a little while. I didn’t die. Obviously.”
Dari is stunned. He had no idea.
“There was other stuff too, that I’m not ready . . . that I’d rather not go into right now. But I feel like the suicide attempt was the big one. I mean, that kind of thing can really strain a friendship,” Lily finishes.
Dari smiles and then laughs a little, but tries to mask that with a cough, which only makes it worse. Then Lily laughs and they both laugh and neither of them can believe that just a few seconds ago they were this close to missing out on such a good laugh.
* * *
Dari trudges up the four flights of stairs, dreading the hell waiting for him on the other side of the door. No matter what it will be, it will be bad, but he feels okay. He feels kind of nice. Lily is okay. She’s kind of nice. He wasn’t expecting that. He wasn’t expecting much of anything, but he likes her. She’s something to look forward to where before there was nothing.
He turns the key and walks in. His father sits on the sofa watching a PBS documentary. Dari stands by the door, not moving far beyond the threshold. He knows better than to simply go to his room. It will be best if he just waits, playing his role in this game.
The program is about the migratory patterns of hawks—something Dari knows damn well his father couldn’t give two shits about. But he waits as the old man watches the hawks taking flight with rapt attention.
“Where have you been?” he finally asks without turning away from the TV.
“I was out. I had to do research for a paper.”
“Why do you lie to me?”
For a moment, Dari actually asks himself the same question. Why do I lie? Won’t make any difference.
“I’m not lying,” he lies.
His father stares at the television again in silence. Dari has to pee. He’s had to pee for about forty minutes. Is it worth going to the bathroom now and coming back to face the fight, or is it easier to stand here and let his bladder burn his insides? His father continues to watch the documentary and time passes. A small bead of sweat slides down Dari’s forehead.
“Dad,” he moans.
Dad pays him no attention. He chuckles as a baby hawk stumbles and bumps into its mother.
“Dad? I’m sorry. I really have to go to the bathroom.”
He turns and inspects Dari. He smiles and glances at his watch.
“Well, that is interesting. According to my count, you are two hours and twenty-six minutes late. In two hours and twenty-six minutes, a young man should have many opportunities to urinate. Many. I wonder how many. Are you curious? I’m curious.” He pulls out his smartphone and starts typing on it. Dari swallows as tears well up in his eyes. He will not cry. He will NOT cry.
His father references something on his phone. “Hmm. Well, it says here that the average person does not urinate more than two cups every two hours. So if you need to go more than that, perhaps we should take you to a urologist. What do you think? Let’s see if there are some good urologists in the area. Perhaps—”
Dari runs down the hall, into the bathroom, and slams the door. Whatever is coming, it can’t be worse than this. And worse than letting his father see him cry would be wetting himself like an infant.
Sweet, sweet release. He allows himself a moment to enjoy this feeling. Thank God. Or thank whatever entit
y out in the universe has allowed him to survive this long.
And then that moment is gone.
He returns to the living room. The documentary has been replaced by a fund-raiser.
“Sit down, Dariomauritius.” Dari heads for an armchair, but his father shakes his head and indicates that he should sit next to him. Dari does as he’s told with serious anxiety. He literally can’t remember the last time he and his father sat next to each other on the sofa.
“I understand the urge to behave recklessly. I also know that at your age it makes sense to defy me just for the fun of it. But it can’t go on. I give you rules because rules help you to excel in life. If I didn’t punish you, you would have no sense of structure or even right and wrong. I care too much about you and your sister to turn you out into the world unprepared for its challenges. It is how I was raised and my father was raised and someday, it will be how you raise your children. Like it or not, I’m right.”
Dari stares straight ahead and remains still. He refuses to confirm or deny anything his father says.
“Unfortunately, your mother was not raised this way. When they weren’t neglecting her, her family indulged her. Instability was all she knew. You don’t want to end up like her, do you?”
Dari clenches his fist and imagines it smashing his father’s jaw.
“I just want what is best for you. Do you hear me? Dariomauritius, answer me.”
“Yes, I hear you, Dad.”
“Do you care?”
No, Dad. Quite frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck. You’re a hypocrite and the second I turn eighteen, I am leaving this crazy house and I’m never coming back.
“I care.” It oozes out of Dari’s face, barely words.
“Good.”
Maynard Gray touches his son’s head. Dari winces, expecting a blow, but instead, receives a pat. His father grips one of his son’s dreadlocks delicately. Then he reaches over with his other hand. In it is a pair of scissors.
Snip.
Dari sucks in his breath. His father holds the lock in his hand. Ten inches of hair. In memoriam. He opens the drawer in the coffee table and drops the lock inside.
“Tomorrow you won’t miss curfew.”
Dari stands and goes to his room.
In the mirror, he decides that he can adjust his hair. He decides that if he’s careful to hold his head a certain way, no one will notice the absence. He tells himself this so he will not cry. Even in private, crying is not an option.
He traces his image in the mirror. He doesn’t understand why things must be the way they are. He imagines Lily at her house having some delicious family meal. During a dessert of strawberries and whipped cream, someone pulls out Scrabble and—uh-oh!—it’s family game night! He laughs to himself. This isn’t exactly what he wants. He just wants something else.
Izzy knocks lightly then opens the door a crack.
“You okay?” she asks.
He shrugs.
“Sorry I went a little ballistic earlier.”
Dari shoots her a puzzled glance.
“On the phone. When I called.”
He’d already forgotten about that.
“You, I forgive.”
She enters and sits down on the bed. Then she sees his hair.
“Coulda been worse.” She’s right.
“Has he always been like this?” Dari asks her.
Izzy thinks about it. “I don’t know. I guess he’s gotten worse as he’s gotten older. And after Mom. But he’s never been happy. Not as long as I’ve known him.
“Got good news, though. I finally got a job. Less money than before, but enough.”
“Congratulations!”
“Thanks, Dari.”
“Sorry I wasn’t here earlier to celebrate.”
Izzy moves to her brother and looks at the empty spot where his lock once was.
“It’ll grow. But, either way, you have to really concentrate to notice it.” He knows she’s just trying to make him feel better, but he appreciates the effort.
“You’re so good-looking anyway. A few flaws couldn’t possibly hurt you.”
Dari looks back at the mirror. They don’t share a lot of compliments in their family, so he’s not sure what to make of this one. His impulse is to assume she’s mocking him. But this is Izzy. Izzy isn’t Dad.
“You think so?”
“I know you know so.”
“I do. But I didn’t know you did,” he teases. She hits him with a pillow.
“You have to stop testing him, Dari. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“So it would be my fault?”
She sits on his bed and lets her head fall into her hands. It’s a gesture that comes from living nearly three decades with Dad.
“Dari? I’m gonna be leaving.”
He shuts his eyes and nods. He didn’t want to hear it, but of course he knew this was coming. Get a job, get some money, get the hell out.
“I don’t want to worry about you pissing him off every day of my life. You’re old enough to know better. If you live here, you gotta deal with his rules. Nothing is gonna change that.”
“All right.”
She stands and reaches her arms out to him. What is this? A hug? What is going on?
“What?”
“Come on. Give me a hug.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a good sister and I want a hug, dammit!”
Bewildered, Dari gives his sister the hug she so badly wants. She squeezes him tightly. Twice he tries to disengage, but she doesn’t allow him to. He has no idea when this hug will end.
“Be good, okay?”
“Wait a minute.” He pulls away and her eyes are misty. “You’re not leaving this minute, are you?”
“No. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“What?” It makes no sense! How can she have an apartment lined up already? She just found a job. She’s supposed to save, look around, reject the first choices that come her way until she finds the perfect place. It’s supposed to be a whole process.
“I, uh . . . Trisha and I got back together. Happened about a week ago.
Are you kidding me?
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I know how you feel about her. You have a right to feel however you want, but I love her and I’m an adult and I’m moving in with her. Tomorrow.”
“Get out.”
“Dari? Don’t be a baby.”
“Fine. I’m a baby. Leave my room. Go be with your psycho girlfriend.”
Izzy wipes away for-real tears that are streaming down her face, but she obeys his command and leaves.
Dari puts on his headphones and blasts Grandmaster Flash in his ears. His family sucks. Everybody leaves. Only one that stays is Big Papa. Damn them all.
Don’t push me cuz I’m close to the edge
I’m trying not to lose my head
ah huh-huh-huh-huh
Boop.
He looks down and sees someone trying to chat.
Hey, is all it says.
Hey yourself, he writes.
Truth or dare?
He smiles.
Dare.
There is a pause and he waits as she types.
I dare u 2 eat dinner w/me at my house tomorrow.
Lily wins the cuteness award.
That’s an odd dare, he types.
Nothing for a moment.
Scared?
He chuckles. He’s about to start typing a response when he catches a glimpse of himself smiling in the mirror. He never sees himself smiling, and it’s a strange picture. He looks much younger. Like a little kid. Taking in the picture of this strange new person that he didn’t recognize for a second, he has time to assess and agree wholeheartedly with Izzy: This is a good-looking dude staring back at me. Then his eye wanders over to the dread stump. He touches it and wonders in horror what he’d look like if his father attacked the rest of his locks with those damn scissors.
Boop.
He
forgot to reply.
U still there?
Yeah, he replies, still touching his hair. Would he be as handsome without the locks? Possibly.
Dare accepted. And on an impulse, he presses the less than sign and the number three, and then he hits return. A heart. But he panics. Before she can reply, he quickly signs off.
Hopefully, it wasn’t too much.
TO SOCIALIZE LIKE NORMAL HUMAN BEINGS
Too effing much! A heart? Did he just send a heart?
He’s gone.
Wow.
I collapse on my bed and stare at the ceiling. Who am I becoming? Where’d I find the guts to leave school with my manic pixie dream guy, spend all evening with him, and now?
That. Was. A. Heart. He couldn’t have done that by accident. Those two keys are nowhere near each other on the keyboard. And what else could he have been trying to say? >2?? That makes no sense. He meant it.
Don’t read too much into it, Rothstein. This is how things go badly. I get excited. I let my fantasies get the best of me and then I’m—
Knocking.
“Come in.”
Mom bursts in with Mexican hot cocoa in two deformed mugs from her pottery class. I would normally roll my eyes, and that’s probably what I should do, but instead I smile like the giddy dork I am right now.
She hands me one and sits on the edge of my bed, beaming so hard I think her face is going to explode.
“What did he say?”
“He said he’ll come over.”
She squeals. This is getting out of control.
“Mom, seriously, though: We’re just friends. Don’t make a big thing outta this,” I plead, imagining her grinning like a demented cartoon character the whole time Dari’s here tomorrow.
“I know, I promise I won’t, but please let me be excited! I haven’t seen you like this since . . . Well. I’m just glad you’re happy, honey. You deserve to feel like this.” She clinks her mug against mine. “What did you guys do?”
“Nothing really. We talked. Played Truth or Dare. Walked. It was . . . it was nice.”
“Yeah? What else?”
“I don’t know. We ate. We joked around—”
“What kind of jokes? Be specific, Lily.”
“Mom, please.” I laugh it off, but she’s being way too intense.
“What?”
“Nothing. I just . . . I don’t feel like sharing every detail right now, okay? I want it to be just mine for now. Do you know what I mean?”
The Truth of Right Now Page 5
