by Landis Lain
Ephraim lifted his chin in a ‘was sup’ motion but he said nothing. He leaned on his arms on the back of the chair and stared morosely at Damon. Ephraim was tall, all long legs and lanky arms that never seemed to move in unison when he was standing or walking. He stood very still most of the time as a result, thus earning his nickname, the pencil on the loose.
“How’s the new school, man?” asked Stump. He suited his name, as he was shorter, about five eleven and husky with the square head and thick neck of a football player. He had on an enormous brown sweat jacket. The matching pants were rolled up around his short thick legs and bagging over his untied brown leather gym shoes.
“It’s cool,” said Damon. “No drama. How’s the big S?”
“It’s aw-ight,” said Ephraim, with a shrug. He perked up a bit as he spoke, looking less like a skinny crow. “Dragon dog Frazier is back acting as stupid as ever. It’s a good thing you left, ‘cause he was looking for you the first couple of days. That dude will never graduate from high school.”
“I thought you had to leave school when you got a certain age,” said Stump. “That boy is like a bad case of herpes. He pops up whenever you don’t want him around and he never goes away.”
“Tell him that,” said Ephraim, laughing.
“Not me,” said Stump. “I ain’t trying to get killed.”
I ain’t trying to get close to that fool ever again,” said Damon in agreement, rolling his eyes. “What’s been up with you, Ephraim? What you been doin’?”
“Making babies,” said Ephraim, shoulders slumping again.
Damon’s eyes got big.
“What?”
“You know Kelly, that girl I been kicking it with?” asked Ephraim. Damon nodded. “She got pregnant.”
“Man, how did you let that happen?” asked Damon. “You weren’t careful?”
“Man, she took the condom off, said it didn’t feel the same,” said Ephraim.
“You let her do that?” Damon ignored the fact that he had never once supplied a condom and couldn’t remember if he’d always used one.
“She said she was on the pill, you know,” said Ephraim, ducking his head. “I figured it was safe.”
Stump slashed the air with a thick slab of a hand to punctuate his point. “Man, you stupid.”
“What you gonna do?” asked Damon. He felt a little sick for his friend.
“Don’t know,” said Ephraim, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not going to leave her hanging. It’s what my old man did to my mother. I ain’t never even met the sucker. He was a student at MSU. Mom has a picture of that punk in an old photo album but he busted up outta Lansing as soon as he found out she got knocked up.”
“For real?” asked Damon. He had never asked Ephraim where his father was. Damon had just accepted that he wasn’t around because Ephraim had.
Ephraim nodded.
“You ever tried to contact him?” asked Damon.
“Naw, man,” said Ephraim. “He didn’t want me. I been without him this long.”
Damon said, “So what’s she wanna do?”
“Kelly said she wants to get an abortion and I should pay for it,” said Ephraim. His long, narrowly drawn face was haunted and his thin shoulders looked folded up like broken wings of defeat.
“You need some money, man?” asked Damon. “I got a couple hundred dollars saved up from work.”
“Naw,” said Ephraim, looking offended. “She don’t even listen to what I want. I told her that if she got an abortion, then that was the last Armstrong she was ever going to get the chance to abort, because we were through.”
“Why, fool?” asked Stump. “You can’t take care of no baby. You ain’t even out of high school yet.”
“I got a job,” said Ephraim.
“Yeah, at Target,” said Stump, throwing up his hands. He turned his attention to Damon. “Man, talk to this joker. He don’t listen to me. He ain’t got a concept for how much babies cost.” Stump had six brothers and sisters. The youngest was three years old. His father worked a variety of short-term construction jobs all over the country to feed his family. If it wasn’t for being recruited for a football scholarship, Stump would have had no chance to go to college.
“I know they cost a lot,” said Ephraim. “But I’m not gonna be like my old man, just making babies and skipping out.”
“There is no baby, yet” said Stump, looking exasperated. “She’s only like two months gone.”
“You don’t understand,” said Ephraim.
“How you gonna go to college with a baby?” asked Damon.
“Man, I’m not like you,” said Ephraim. He looked terrified but determined. He swallowed heavily, his large Adams apple bobbing in his throat and then continued. “I’m not smart like you or that good at sports like Stump. I got decent grades, but it was always going to be community college for me. My moms ain’t got the cheddar to send me anyplace else.”
“What is your mom going to say?” asked Damon. He got a chill thinking of his own mother’s reaction to news that a girlfriend of his was pregnant. He resolved to be very careful in the future, and then thought of Brielle and relaxed. Virgins didn’t have to worry about getting pregnant. As long as she stuck by her guns she was safe and so was Damon.
“Man, she’s gonna be crushed,” said Ephraim. He loved his mother and they were very tight. “I can’t stand to disappoint her, but she stuck around for me, you know. I gotta stick around for my own kid.”
“I hear you,” said Damon. A baby seemed so unreal that he couldn’t wrap his mind around the concept at all. After a few minutes of no solution, Stump changed the subject to football. He and Damon argued good naturedly about who would win the upcoming high school football championship. Ephraim brooded.
Damon suggested a game of basketball and the three young men filed out of Damon’s room to the backyard.
Brielle
Brielle hated Sasha with a passion for about a week. She hated Sasha’s presence on earth. Hated the fact that Sasha was confident enough to go after what she wanted, when Brielle was shy and tongue-tied in Damon’s presence. She felt like a child.
Brielle hated Sasha most of all because she had been with Damon in a way that Brielle had only dreamed about. Alternately, she hated Damon for doing it with Sasha. But Damon’s presence was a powerful force, and Brielle didn’t know Sasha, except for the brief encounter in Target, so her feelings of animosity eventually faded. Hadn’t he broken it off? Besides that, Damon was so popular that Brielle had new found popularity. Since her confrontation with Charlene, Brielle had taken on new cool in the eyes of most of the school.
Between swim practice in the morning, classes, afternoon swim practice, and homework, Brielle didn’t have much energy to keep a mad going. She was too busy and excited about the upcoming homecoming dance. Brielle was hoping Damon would ask her to go with him. Both of them were frustrated by how little time they had to spend together.
Damon text messaged her regularly just to say hi. He smiled at her in Lit. and world history class. She always smiled back but there was never enough time to talk. Brielle had to be off the phone by ten o’clock during the school week and Damon worked most evenings. Sneaking phone calls after hours would get her phone snatched by her father. Brielle didn’t want to risk it. Damon finally ran into her at her locker on Friday afternoon.
“Hey, girl,” he said.
“Hey, boy,” she replied. She put her trig book into the locker and took out her materials for speech class.
“What you got up this weekend?” he asked. There was a football game tonight. Chauncey had asked him to come to support and Damon was excited about possibly spending time with Brielle.
“I’m going to the game tonight,” she said. “I’ve got a meet tomorrow at Charlotte High School. Saturday night, nada. Sunday is church and debutante meeting, I think.”
“I’m off tonight,” he said. “I’ve got to work Saturday night. Can I hang with you at the game?”
Br
ielle was thrilled, but tried not to let on.
“I’m going to be there with my girls,” she said.
“That’s cool,” he said. He wasn’t crazy about hanging with his sister’s crew, but he really wanted to spend a little time with Brielle. “I’m off Sunday. Maybe we can get together and study Sunday evening.”
“That’s straight,” said Brielle. “Well, I have to go to class.” She walked away from him, disappointed that he hadn’t asked her to homecoming. The past couple of years she’d gone to the dance with a group of girls and boys from the school, but this year, Brielle really wanted to go with Damon. On a real date.
Damon watched her go with frustration in his eyes. In his opinion, Brielle had been blowing him off for the last week and he was tired of it. He didn’t know what it was about Brielle that charged him up, but he wasn’t used to being given the brush off. He’d meant what he said about being okay if she told him that she didn’t want to be his girl, but the longer she made him wait, the less certain he was that he could stand by his word. He resolved in the space of two breaths, that Brielle was going to like him as much as he liked her or he was going to know why not. He was in a foul mood for the rest of the school day.
Damon
The day eased into a mild late September evening. So far it had been an Indian summer, warm and good smelling. The temperature cooled off in the evening to make perfect football weather, not too hot to cuddle, but not too cold so you couldn’t get close to your girl because she had on ten layers of clothing to ward off the chill. The varsity game was scheduled for seven. Damon was waiting outside the gates of the football field when Brielle’s mother drove up. Five girls got out of the car. Damon recognized Brielle, Sammie, Kyzie and Melina, but not the fifth girl. The fifth girl smiled as soon as she laid eyes on him.
“Hi –I,” she said, making the word into two syllables.
“Was-sup,” he said with a nod. He walked over to the car and said hello to Brielle and Kyzie’s mother through the open passenger door window.
“Hello, Mrs. Bronson,” he said.
“Oh, hello Damon,” she said. “How are you doing? How’s your mom?”
“Good, thanks,” he said. He stood aside while she gave Brielle and her sister last minute instructions about their behavior and then drove off.
“Hey, Bri,” he said. She smiled back at him shyly “Jada is already inside. She’ll hold bleacher space for us.”
Brielle introduced Damon to the fifth girl, whose name was Asia.
“How are you?”
“Good,” Asia said. Then she grabbed Sammie by the arm and giggled. The other girls started walking toward the gate to enter the football game, but Damon stopped Brielle by putting his hand lightly on her arm.
“Wait a minute,” he said.
“What?”
“Um, you look nice tonight,” he said. And she did. She was wearing black jeans that looked tight enough to have been painted on, a black and gold swim tee shirt and her black leather letter jacket. She had on black patent leather tennis shoes to complete the outfit and was carrying a tiny black patent leather purse.
“Thank you,” said Brielle. “You look good, too.”
“Did- did you think about being my girl?” he asked, stumbling over the words. He wanted to sink into the concrete with embarrassment but settled for a flush under his cheek bones. One downfall of the girls being so aggressive was that Damon had no skills when it came to compliments or cool conversation. He’d never needed to spit any so his game was weak.
Brielle blushed. She had thought of nothing else. Damon looked genuinely worried that she might say no.
“I don’t remember being asked to be your girl,” said Brielle. Damon’s eyebrows snapped together so quickly that Brielle blinked in surprise.
“What did we talk about?” he asked.
“Well,” she said. “You talked about how you’d been with some crazy girl who you dogged to get sex, and that I could say no if I didn’t want to be your girl.”
“Okay, then,” said Damon. “But I didn’t dog her for sex. She was giving it up. I dogged her to get away from her.”
“Whatever,” said Brielle, hands on her waist. “Your behavior was disrespectful.”
“True,” he said, hanging his head. “So I guess the answer is no, huh?”
“Well, you didn’t ask me to be your girl. You just told me it was okay if I didn’t want to be. You said you wouldn’t be mad or anything,” said Brielle, folding her arms in front of her.
“Oh,” said Damon, head snapping up in surprise. He replayed the conversation in his head. “You’re right.”
“And?” prompted Brielle.
“I lied,” said Damon. “I’d be really upset if you said no. So, will you?”
“Will I what?” asked Brielle, tapping her black patent leather flat.
“Be my girl,” he said in exasperation. He was frowning fiercely, the late sun glinting off the rims of his glasses.
“This is how you ask?” asked Brielle, smiling slightly. She was enjoying his frustration. For a minute he looked really ticked off. She thought that he was going to stalk off and leave her standing there. The smile dropped off her face.
Suddenly, he smiled.
“You’re such a brat,” he said. “You know that don’t you?”
“I am not,” she said, flirting with her eyes.
“Okay,” he said, taking her hand in his. He tugged on her braid with his other hand. “Will you please be my girl?”
“Yes,” she said.
“All right, then,’ he said. Then he added casually, “You’re going to the homecoming dance with me in two weeks, right?”
“I have to ask my parents,” said Brielle. “But I’m sure it will be okay.”
He flashed a big white toothed grin that had Brielle blinking and trying to catch her breath. His eyes shown brilliant and he gave her a quick hug and light kiss on the lips before he led her into the football game. He paid to get in and bought her popcorn. He held her hand to help her up the bleachers.
Damon turned his attention to the football game. To his surprise, Brielle actually seemed to understand what was going on. She yelled with the cheerleaders and hooted when the Warriors made a bad play. Damon watched Brielle, drinking in her warm cocoa beauty and feeling like nothing could ever go wrong in his life again. Jada snorted at the sight of the two of them holding hands and rolled her eyes, but he didn’t care. Brielle was his girl.
Sasha
“Hold, please.”
Sasha rubbed her hand over her face and punched numbers in to the switchboard in front of her.
“Miss Shelton,” she said. “I have a call to transfer in to you.”
Sasha had finally gotten a job after two weeks in the shelter. She was working as a temporary receptionist at Tender Comfort, the nursing home a few miles from the shelter. Gail had gotten her the job. It paid eight dollars an hour and did not require her to be on her feet much. Sasha hated every minute of the job. The place stank like a toilet because most of the old people were sick, miserable, and incontinent. Half the time they were wandering the halls, crying and begging to go home. The exhausted nursing aides were run off their feet trying to keep too many patients – no, residents – from wandering off the grounds or harming themselves.
Sasha sat at a desk in the middle of a circular counter. In front of her was a telephone switchboard and pads of paper and a jar of pens. The nursing home had four halls that ended at the receptionist’s desk like spokes on a bicycle, so Sasha could see everything that went on just by swiveling her chair. When she’d first gotten the job, she thought that working the night shift would be quiet, but she hadn’t known that old folks rarely, if ever, kept regular people’s hours. Visitors came at all hours of the night, as Tender Comfort had a twenty-four hour open door policy.
“Hey, Sasha,” said one of the young orderlies. Clifford was tall and thin with honey brown skin and dreadlocks pulled back in a ponytail. Dressed in dark blue s
crubs, he was dragging a mop and bucket around, mopping up whatever disgusting mess was always on the floor. He stopped by the desk she was sitting at to talk to her every chance he got. “How’s it going?”
It was seven in the evening so the day time activities were winding down as more of the residents were sedated and put to bed for the night.
“It’s nastier than usual,” said Sasha, wrinkling her nose. “Old man Hadrian messed his pants and it took them an hour to convince him to go back to his room so they could change him. I was so sick to my stomach.” She shuddered.
“Yeah,” said Clifford, nodding his head. “I hate when that happens, but the old people can’t help it.”
“I just wish it wouldn’t happen on my shift,” said Sasha. Clifford stood up straight and swiped his mop around in desultory fashion. “There was a couple of deaths today, too, a lot of people crying and stuff. I had to call the ambulance about four times, because we got a bunch of codes.”
“Yeah, it runs like that,” said Clifford, nodding his head. “Seems like the old people kick off all at once.”
The phone buzzed and Sasha answered, “Tender Comfort Convalescent Home. How may I help you?” When she finished explaining to the caller that she needed to call back between eight and five to speak to a residential representative about placement for her eighty year old mother, Sasha looked up to see Clifford leaning against the counter.
“So,” he asked casually. “What are you gonna do when you get off?”
“Grab something to eat and then come back here,” she said. “I’m working a double tonight because the night shift receptionist called off sick and they don’t have anyone else to cover.” Clifford was nice to talk to. He kept some of the horrible loneliness at bay.
“What time you get off?” he asked.
“Seven,” she said. “I get to take an hour and go eat and then come back here. I squared it with Miss Gail.”
“That’s a lot of hours, little mama,” he said. “What you gonna do with all that money?”
Sasha dreamed about buying a new cell phone. Without one, she was cut off from the world. She had the minute phone from the welfare office but it only had a certain number of minutes on it. Besides, the only numbers Sasha knew by heart were her mother’s and father’s. She certainly wasn’t going to call them. Sasha wished she knew one of her friend’s numbers. She couldn’t get e-mails because the computers at the library were always full of folks and by the time she got off work, the library was closed. At the end of the day Sasha was too tired and dispirited to keep contact with anyone even if she had access to a computer. A new phone beckoned to her like a lifeline.
