The very next spring was a harbinger of what was to come.
Mama, where we going?
Tim, you, me and your sister are going to stay with Aunt Betsy for a bit.
What? Where’s Daddy? Why he ain’t driving us? Why we in a taxi, Mom?
Your father is busy tonight. He couldn’t take us.
Busy?
See, I told you, Sheila. He’s busy tonight.
Hmm…Ma, I heard y’all hollering at each other. Daddy said he didn’t care where we went. Did he throw us out?
No, sweetie, like I said, we’re going to visit a little while with Aunt Betsy. Everything will be fine. Promise.
See. I told you! Maaa, Sheila’s hitting me!
Girl, keep your hands to yourself. You hear me!
As was the following year.
Yo, man, wait up!
Oh God! Just a few more steps—aw, man, please let me get to the door.
Hold up, Tim. I know you heard me.
Damn! How come he knows my name?
Don’t run, dawg! It’s only a few more feet…shit! Here they come.
Yo, Tim. You Dim? Ha, get it? Didn’t you hear me yelling back there?
Nah, I didn’t hear nothing. What’s up?
Eh-heh…hmm…uh, my main man Shawn wants to see your player.
What? He can’t see it from there?
He actually wants to uh—hold it. You know.
N-nah man, I c-can’t do that. What’s with him? Why he grumbling and shit like that? He can’t talk-or something?
He don’t like to talk much…and he really don’t like people saying no!
Well, I can’t le-let him hold my player. He can listen with the phones for a minute if he wants…whoa, back up man…yo check it out, up there on the second floor! See my Pops in the window? Hey, Dad! Come down quick! They trying to take ma play—
No one was in the window.
BUTT-CALL
“Hey Tim, s’up?” called out Lucy from the playground across the street. She’d just hit a three-pointer, all net. Damn, how long I been sitting here? Tim wondered and hopped to his feet.
“What up, Lucy? Didn’t see you when I walked up.”
“I must’ve got here after you did. Didn’t see you either—been warming up for a little game with Chucky,” she said, sinking one from the foul line. “He should be easy work. Ha! But the dude is late and he’s not answering my texts. Tim? You listening, bro? Where’d you go? What are you looking at?”
Tim stared at the cloudless sky as he spoke. “So, he was supposed to be here right now?”
Lucy kept dribbling in circles. “Yeah, that’s what I said. S’up with you?”
Tim sat on the blacktop, hugged his knees as some kind of buttress against the memory. Blood, mud and an S-shaped scar invaded his mind. ‘So, bitch. Thought you was gonna get away, huh? Shiiieeet.’
Tim closed his eyes and spoke in a monotone. “His cousin Fidel’s been looking for him too. Man! That’s an evil motherfucker.”
At the mention of Fidel, Lucy stood still with the ball on her hip. “Yeah, man. A serious cold draft follows that dude around. Ha! It’s seriously crazy how he wears that stupid jacket all the time,” she said, sinking another basket.
The three-pointer pushed back the darkness a little for Tim. “Whoa, girl. Next you’ll be feeling frisky enough to actually challenge somebody!”
Lucy spun around, dribbled the ball between her legs to say, “What are you talking about? If you’re feeling it now, get your ass up!”
Tim rose slowly. A text had just come in. Les was waiting. “Nah, I gotta go. Ain’t got time…”
“Timmy is a-fraid, Timmy is a-fraaaid!” sang the dancing dreadlocked girl, twirling the ball on a finger.
“Okay, I’m feelin’ it now,” he said.
Lucy grinned, showing a set of perfect teeth. “So, name your poison, Timmy—uh, Tim! Twenty-one, one-on-one or just a friendly game of Horse since you all dressed up and what not.” As she spoke, she moved side to side, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. With that long hair, Tim thought she looked like a big cat.
“Ladies choice. No, I mean it. Whatever. I need to make this fast,” he said crouching down, pulling up his pantlegs.
“Ok. It’s one-on-one. Ten points, no taking it back, just straight out. Cool?”
“Yeah, like I said, whatever. You can have the first out.”
“Hmm…nice! Touch?” she asked, smiling sweetly, bouncing the ball to him.
“Yeah, yeah—touch,” Tim said impatiently, leaning a little to the left as he bounced it back to Lucy who immediately dashed hard to his right. The next thing he saw was the last bead of her dreads when she shot by him for a perfect layup. Her grin lit up the backboard like a floodlight.
“Whew! Aw man, Tim. I think you’re going to remember this day!” she teased, speaking through her teeth. “Touch?”
Tim cocked his ear to her tone this time. He hadn’t heard the sarcasm before. “Yeah, yeah, sure. TOUCH,” he barked, heaving the ball at her face.
Embarrassed, he took a quick glance over his shoulder—no one was watching. She caught it. “Me seems my boy has got his back up. Must be tough being checked by a sister!” she taunted, bouncing the ball into play.
Tim stole the ball before she could get too close and sank an easy jumper to even the score. Lucy tied her dreads back—a signal that things had become serious. Tim, surprised that he had to really play to stay in the game, was about to take off his shirt when his cell buzzed. His heart jumped, he could hardly believe the caller ID. It was Rene.
“Ho-hold up, Lucy—I gotta ta-take this,” he said, turning towards the curb.
Lucy hurled the ball hard against the backboard. It bounced into the street. “Aw man, Tim, look what you made me do. I was about to take you to the hoop for real.” Her voice echoed off the buildings. Hearing this, some kids on the next court cracked up.
Tim held a finger up to shush her as he jogged through the gate. “Don’t worry abou… Hello? Boo?”
“Oh–uh…Tim?” the voice sounded confused.
“Rene! What’s up, Boo? I was…”
“Tim, I didn’t mean to call you. Ugh…I mean the phone must’ve dialed you by mistake…”
Tim smiled as he went straight into his smooth mode, as he liked to call it. “Oh! So, like it was a butt call, eh?” he half sang, kicking a soda can in the gutter.
“Don’t get any ideas, brother, I uh…”
“Yo! I wanna see you—” he said, walking in a tight circle.
“I don’t think so! I mean, I really don’t think so.”
Tim almost dropped the phone. “I need to talk to somebody.”
“Maybe you should talk to whoever is trying get in touch with you right now. What’s that buzzing? Is that another phone? Only drug dealers have more than one phone! Timmy! Do you hear me?”
As Tim watched Lucy practice her layups, he reached into his pocket. The buzzing stopped before he could do anything. She was getting good, he thought. “No, uh, th-that’s Les’ cell. He le-left it at the gym. I was on my way th-there wh-when you called.”
“Oh, so now you want to talk to me? Well, it’s clear that you’ve—”
Turning towards her house, Tim waved bye to Lucy and lied to Rene. “I’m nearby. Can-can I come over? You home?”
“Yes, I am. But I’m babysitting my little sister and…Timmy, hello? Are you there?”
SUNFLOWER YELLOW
Rene’s family apartment was situated over Wong’s Market. He wondered how a tacky storefront could sell everything from Oreos to pantyhose to meds for a runny nose at such seriously high prices—everything except fresh produce, of course. They even had a liquor license. Therefore, from beef jerky to Wild Turkey, Captain Crunch to salami for lunch, the average customer was covered. When he was in Rene’s living room, he could hear each time the entrance door opened and closed as it hit the little bell suspended over it. Open for business twenty-four hours.
&nb
sp; “Hey, you got here pretty quick. Were you around the corner or something?” She placed her hands on her hips and her left eyebrow shot up suspiciously as she spoke.
“Oh, yeah…I mean no, I wasn’t ’round the corner, I was—” Hmm…no bra!
Following his eyes, Rene folded her arms in front of her. “Don’t think. Sit. I’ll be right back. I have to check on my baby sister.”
He sat amid baby toys that dominated the little room. It was hot. The blades of the electric fan moved as if there were weights on them. Doilies were under everything, protecting the cheap furniture from the cheap vases, ashtrays and lamps that sat on them. Being particularly careful of his shoes, he leaned back on the ruddy couch and extended a leg to take in the family photos displayed all over the room. He always got a kick out of them: Rene as a newborn, toddler, young child—not a cute kid. Her mom was another story. His favorite shot of her, the one in which she posed seductively with Rene’s dad at the beach, sat on the end table.
As usual, his mood would sober up when his eyes fell upon Martin Luther King staring solemnly off into the distance.
“Ok, here I am!” Rene announced, bouncing into the room.
Whoa! What’s this?—bra? Shit! He sat up quickly taking account of his ex-girlfriend, dressed in her cheerleading skirt and top. He couldn’t be sure about anything, except that there she stood smiling at him, holding two bowls. Her tapered brown eyes and petite muscular physique threatened to overwhelm him with the pain of their so-called breakup. But what really drove him crazy was the combination of her deep brown skin, high cheekbones, full lips and a short au naturel haircut.
He wanted to jump up and kiss her right then and there, but that would have most certainly gotten him thrown out onto the sidewalk in front of Wong’s.
“Are you still a freak for fruit salad?” she asked with a smile.
“Yeeeessss! That’s me, Freaky Tim!” He took the bowl and howled like a hungry hound.
For a minute or two the only sounds in the room were clinking spoons and the whir of the fan. They were both perspiring from the heat.
“Tim, don’t get me wrong, but why are you here? Are you ok? You look good. I heard that you’ve been working out.”
Tim smiled and moved his head side to side like a boxer. “Yeah, kind of…so, you been keepin’ up with me, huh?”
Now it was Rene who smiled. She reached out and brushed the top of his head with her hand letting it follow downwards along the contour of his face. “I also heard that you’ve been putting in some serious time at the library. Is that true?”
“Dag. My sister’s got a big mouth!”
“Hmm—maybe, but I was glad to hear it. What’s this stuff about Mr. Jones and then Maurice in the park?”
Tim, done with his fruit, sat hunched over, leaning on his knees. He hadn’t expected this.
Rene fanned herself with her hand. “Uh-oh, never mind, I can tell from the look on your face that you don’t want to talk about that stuff—sorry. So, seriously—why did you want to see me?”
“My-my dad—di-died today,” Tim said, still looking at the floor.
Renee threw her spoon at him. “Oh no you didn’t, Timothy Thornton! Now what are you going to do? Try and pull some fresh bullshit on me?”
She was ready for battle, but the panic in his eyes stopped her. The fruit bowl shook so hard in his hand, he’d almost dropped it when he yelled back at her. “I’m serious, Boo! Dad passed this morning. I just left my family at the house. Me and my uncle couldn’t take it no more. So we escaped.”
She held up a hand to her mouth “Whoa, whoa, what? Wait—I’m sorry to hear that, Timmy. What happened?”
Tim spoke into the bowl. “It was a heart attack—his third. He was in bad shape.”
“And your uncle? He’s older. Isn’t he?”
“Ten years. They wasn’t exactly on speakin’ terms.”
“Speaking terms.” Rene corrected.
“Huh?”
“Never mind,” Rene said quickly. “Sounds like my own family. I can imagine…”
Tim yelled. “Oh, I get it. Speaking terms. Ha! Fuck you, Boo! I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. I was already sad as shit about us and now this—ugh!” He leaned his head onto his knees and let his arms fall to the floor. Suddenly comfortable, he relaxed and stayed like that.
A couple minutes ago, he thought Rene had eaten her fruit standing up because she didn’t know what to do, where to sit. But now she did. “Come here, Timmy.” Cooing like a mother, she sat on the couch and hugged him tight. Of course, the news would have hit her hard too.
After all, they’d been together close to a year. She was around when his dad moved out and had cried all night with Sheila in her room. Yes, she was close with the family until she broke up with him. You confused, boy, she’d told him that night. Rene was so quiet now, he wondered if she still thought of him as confused. Nah—if she was thinking like that, she’d still be on the other side of the room. When Rene sighed long and hard, sending her hot breath down his collar, he thought, Alright, dawg—don’t get no ideas! But damn, the girl sure smells good.
“Take deep breaths, Timmy,” she whispered into his ear, shutting her eyes.
His had been closed for a while. Boo was always the one, and yet he couldn’t remember how he’d blown it with her. Yes Maria was nice, sexy and all, but this girl here—Rene, had his heart. But now, none of this shit matters because eventually somebody is going to find Chucky and my ass will be changing address real soon—and not to Chicago. How he would ever get her back he couldn’t imagine under the circumstances. She, like his mom, will be crushed when everything blows up. On that thought, he inhaled deeply and listened to the ding of Wong’s little bell downstairs. Until…
“Yo, Boo.”
“Hmm…?”
“Boo?”
“Tell me, Tim.”
“I miss you. You know it, right?”
“That’s just the grief talking now, man. Stay still, be quiet.” She pulled him closer and then jerked rigid. “Don’t get any ideas. Ok?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, taking a huge breath, imagining that he could inhale her inside of him. She was wearing the Egyptian Musk oil he’d given her—two-dollar bottle. He was so deep into her neck now that the next time he spoke his voice was muffled. Her left hand had gently landed on his right bicep and stayed there.
“I saw him this morning. He wasn’t drinking at all. He was clear, but kind of strange.”
“Strange? How?”
“I’m sure he knew his time was ’bout up. He was saying stuff.” Rene’s hand on his bicep went into a steady stroke.
“Stuff?”
“Yeah, like study hard and shit. But he always said stuff like that. This time was different though. It was like he was trying to make up for lost chances, you know? All of sudden, he comes outta his face with some shit like, Tell yo’ mama that I love her and always loved her. Just like that, yo! Then like always, he would wonder out loud if she had a new man. Like I knew somethin’.” When his voice broke, Tim pulled away, sat up straight and wiped his eyes.
“What is it, Timmy?”
“I-I told him this mo-morning not to ca-call me Timmy.”
Her hand touched his shoulder. “But I’ve always called you Timmy. Timmmmie.” She cooed again, but not like a mother this time. He leaned back in again closer, lower, real low. He wallowed in her embrace as she continued to caress and squeeze his bicep. Her other hand stroked his hair. He felt better with every pass. When he leaned back, his hand had rested upon her abdomen. They were breathing in sync. Rene’s top had risen about an inch above the top of her skirt and his pinky had actually made contact with belly flesh. At that, Tim released his longest and deepest exhalation—matched molecule for molecule by his ex-girlfriend. Listening to her heart that was beating faster now, he moved his little finger back and forth with the gentleness of a butterfly’s antenna, barely brushing the moist peach fuzz just below her navel.
T
hat’s when he saw the packet of Trojans wedged in the waistband of her sunflower yellow panties.
PARANOIA
Im>U: What are you doing? Are you still in your room? It’s been two whole days since Daddy—you know.
Sprinter2000: Yeah, believe me, I know. What do u want?
Im>U: What do I want? I don’t want anything. Just wondering how you’re doing?
Sprinter2000: Don’t worry about me. What’s up?
Im>U: Look, it’s hard for me too. But locking yourself up in there all day isn’t good. I don’t think Daddy would want that. You’re not drinking in there, Timmy, are you?
Sprinter2000: What? Why you asking me that? And how you know what Dad would want? Anyway, it hasn’t been all day, I went to the library this morning.
Im>U: That’s good. Did you work with Darryl?
Sprinter2000: Nah, I tried to do something, but couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t take it, so I came home.
Im>U: I have to talk with you about something.
Sprinter2000: Some other time. I got shit to do.
Im>U: Oh, so like, now we’re cursing each other out online?
Sprinter2000: Sorry.
Im>U: You’re not sorry. Anyway, what do you have to do that’s so important? You just said you couldn’t work when you were at the library.
Sprinter2000: Like I said, don’t worry ‘bout me. It ain’t your business anyway. I gotta go. C U
Im>U: Hold up. Wait…I’ll come home and we’ll talk. Okay? Is Uncle Gentrale there?
Sprinter2000: Forget that! I got a lot on my mind, believe it or not.
Im>U: Yeah, yeah, Timmy, I know, believe me, I know. Just chill, okay? I’ll be there in a few. I just remembered that Uncle Gentrale went to visit his card-playing friends. He’ll be gone awhile.
Sprinter2000: What do u mean, like, you know? You know what? You don’t know nothing.
Im>U: Okay, okay. I don’t know nothing. But please don’t try to tell me you have to go work out. I mean like…if you’re going to the gym all the time, how come you still so scrawny?
Ahgottahandleonit Page 13
