Another Man Will

by Daaimah S. Poole

“He was fighting? Is he all right?”

  “Yes, he is, but unfortunately, he will be suspended for the role he played in the fight. If you can get here by ten o’-clock, today could count as the first day of his suspension.” I took the phone away from my ear and looked at the time on it. I had exactly thirty minutes to get to Brandon’s school.

  “Is he with you in the office?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “May I speak with him, please?”

  “Yes, one moment.” I heard the phone being exchanged.

  “Mom, I didn’t do anything,” Brandon whined.

  “If you didn’t do anything, then why are you suspended, and why were you fighting?”

  “Mom, they kept saying stuff to me. And he said he wanted to fight me. He put his hands up, so I threw up mine.”

  “You threw your hands up? What is wrong with you, boy? You know what? It doesn’t even matter. Tell your principal I’m on my way. Boy, when I get there . . .” That was all I could get out. I hurried to get dressed and headed for his school.

  I was beyond upset as I entered the Leadership Charter School building. A woman sitting behind a desk stationed in front of the auditorium instructed me to sign her log, then handed me a yellow visitor’s pass and pointed me in the direction of the office. I stormed into the office and saw Brandon sitting there like a dunce. His head was hung down.

  He let out a weak “Hi, Mom.”

  “Boy, come on. Let’s go.”

  “You have to sign me out over there.”

  Just as I walked over to the counter, a nicely built and well-dressed man came out from behind the office desk.

  “Hi, I’m Mr. Walker, the vice principal. I just spoke to you on the telephone.”

  “Yes. Hello.”

  He looked over at the big, round clock hanging on the wall and said, “I’m glad you were able to get here before ten. So today does mark the first day of his suspension, and you can reinstate Brandon on Wednesday. We’re giving him a two-day, instead of three. The third day was unnecessary, and I already had a talk with him about what is expected of him. Right, Brandon?”

  “Yes,” Brandon said with his head down.

  On the ride home Brandon knew he was in trouble, but he wasn’t sure how much. He was nervous, though, because every time I moved, he flinched. I just really didn’t have the strength to deliver any blows to him. We walked in our apartment, and I just exhaled loudly.

  “All I can say to you, Brandon, is that I have enough problems. I don’t need any more.”

  “But, Mom, can I tell you what happened?”

  “I don’t care what happened. You are suspended, and that’s all I need to know.”

  “But, Mom!”

  “There is no ‘But, Mom.’ Just do the right thing. Get your work done, and stay out of trouble. It is the beginning of the school year. You know Phil took my money. You know things have been tough. So don’t add to my pressure.”

  “This is not right. You not even listening to me.”

  I continued to ignore him. Then I decided to let him have his say. “Okay, tell me what happened.”

  “Well, I did cut class, and that was wrong. But only because Semaj said we had a substitute and we weren’t doing anything. So me and Semaj went and was just hanging out in the lunchroom. Then this guy in the eleventh grade just came over to us for no reason and told us to move. We said no, and we all started fighting.”

  “Okay, first, would this all have happened if you were in class?”

  “ No.”

  “Okay, second, was Semaj suspended?”

  “ No.”

  “Exactly. He is at school, in class, and where are you? You’re here. You should be in school, learning, preparing to be a man, so you can one day have a job and a career to take care of yourself. What do you even want to do with your life?”

  “I don’t know. I want to run stuff or something.”

  “Oh, run stuff,” I repeated after him and sighed. This was too much. “Brandon, you want to be a company owner, not just run stuff. In order to own a company, you can’t be following behind someone. Point-blank, if you were in class, you wouldn’t have had a fight. That’s it. I’m not saying anything else. I know one thing. I’m not coming up to that school any more this year. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not saying, ‘Be a punk,’ but people are going to say things every day. You cannot throw your hands up each time. If that was the case, you would never stop fighting. If they don’t physically touch you, walk away. It is called self-discipline, and you need to get some, because all the tough people that can’t control themselves end up in the jail.”

  Brandon seemed a little regretful of his actions, but I wasn’t sure if I had got through to him. I was going to have Doug and my dad talk to him some more, too.

  We needed groceries, and I had only sixty dollars left in my savings account until Thursday, when Doug deposited money into my account for child support. I transferred the money out of my savings and into my checking account. How was I going to feed three people, for four days, three square meals I didn’t know, but I had to make it work.

  I made my way to ShopRite, grabbed a circular, and began to see what on my list I could afford. I opened the circular and strategically shopped, buying everything that was on sale. I was happy that I was able to fill my cart with sale items. I thought I should be right at sixty dollars. I walked to a line where there wasn’t a wait. I began placing my eggs, milk, apple juice, and chicken wings on the belt. While the cashier swiped each item, I kept up with the calculations on her register’s screen. I got up to $58.97, and I told her she could stop. I had to put one of the bottles of salad dressing and the dinner rolls back, but that was okay. At least I hadn’t gone over my budget. I swiped my debit card to pay for my groceries, and instead of APPROVED appearing on the screen, it read DECLINED. I knew that was a mistake, so I asked the cashier to try it again. I knew the money was there, because I had just transferred the money, but I had to get out of the line and call the bank. The bank’s 800 line had a series of prompts and numbers I had to press before I could speak with a live person. Once one was on the line, I read off my account number and verified all my information.

  “How may I help you today, ma’am?”

  “My card was just declined, and I know I have money in the account.”

  “Yes, I show you had a deposit entered today, but it won’t be available until tomorrow,” the woman said.

  “I don’t understand. It was a cash deposit.”

  “Yes, it was cash. However, it was deposited after three, which makes it fall under a new business day, and the funds will not be ready until tomorrow.”

  “Okay, I don’t understand. You’re saying I can’t put cash in and take the same cash back out on the same day?”

  “Yes, that is correct. This is our policy.”

  I was beyond fuming mad. I wished I knew where the call center was, because I would go and choke the lady for telling me I had to wait for cash to clear.

  “Well, I’ve never heard of such a thing, and I’m in the market, trying to buy my groceries, and I need the funds to be available now, and when I checked online, the money was there, so someone has to do something.”

  “Well, as a courtesy, I can make the funds available, but please go to our Web site and read our new policy, put in place this year.”

  I said, “Yeah,” but I thought, Whatever. Just make this shit go through so I can walk out of this damn market with groceries. The customer representative made my funds available, and I felt validated. I walked back over to the register and paid for my groceries.

  After grocery shopping I picked Mercedes up from school. I sat in front of her school, trying to determine where she was in the crowd of running children who were all happy that it was dismissal time. She found me first, got in the car, and put her seat belt across her chest.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hey, Mimi. Did you have a good day?”r />
  “Yes, I had a good day. I just want something to eat. Can we stop and get something to eat?”

  “Why are you hungry, little girl?”

  “The kids stole my lunch. I forgot to give it to the teacher. Mom, these kids at this school are bad. They don’t listen to the teacher, and if you don’t give your lunch to the teacher, they take it out of your book bag.”

  “What? Did you tell someone?”

  “Yeah, the teacher and the lady in the lunchroom gave me a ticket to get a lunch, but they had something nasty. I didn’t want it.”

  “I’m sorry that happened to you, but I just went to the market. There are snacks in the bags. We will make you one when we get in the house.”

  “Okay, and, Mom, can I go to the hairdresser and get my hair done?”

  “I’ll make you a snack, and I’ll straighten your hair out after dinner.”

  As promised, I washed and blew out Mercedes’s hair. Neither of us had been to the hair salon or nail salon in months.

  “Look in the mirror, Mimi. See if you like it.”

  “Oh, I look like I went to the real hairdresser. Oh, Mommy, can you paint my fingers, too?”

  I could tell Mercedes missed being pampered, and so did I. What I wouldn’t do to have someone wash and style my hair. And a manicure, pedicure—that would be amazing. I would love to place my feet in hot soapy water and get my cuticles cut and the dead skin sloughed off my tired feet. I couldn’t wait to start working again, because I did miss the simple little things.

  “Sure. Go get the polish off my dresser.”

  She ran to my bedroom to get the polish and returned with an aqua color.

  “This is pretty, Mimi,” I said as I complimented Mercedes on her choice and dipped the brush and covered her nails with the sparkly green color. I had got to her third nail when a light knock at the door interrupted my stroke. I walked to the door, where I found a young, nicely dressed couple.

  “Yes?”

  “Hello. Does Sammie live here?” the young guy asked.

  “No, sorry. No Sammie lives here.”

  I began to close the door and the young guy asked, “Are you sure? He has curly, short braids. And they said he lives here and he hangs out with a brown-skinned, husky boy.”

  “You mean Semaj?”

  They looked at each other.

  “Yes, that’s his name,” the guy said.

  “He doesn’t live here, but that’s my son’s friend. What happened? Is there something wrong?”

  “Well, miss, he broke into my car and stole my husband’s work computer,” the young woman said. “He really needs the computer back. All his work files are in there.”

  “What?”

  She went on to say that other neighborhood kids had placed Semaj at the scene. They’d seen him running away from the car with the computer bag. I called out for Brandon. He didn’t come fast enough, so I called him again.

  “Brandon, get out here!”

  He came to the door. The couple looked him over, shaking their heads, letting me know he wasn’t the one. I told them right where they could find Semaj and his mother and angrily closed my door.

  “That’s it. No more Semaj, Brandon. He is stealing computers out of people’s cars. Plus, he is having you cut class.”

  “You can’t tell me who my friends can be,” he yelled back.

  Mercedes stood up and said,. “Mommy can tell you whatever she wants, Brandon, and you better listen.”

  “Mercedes, be quiet. I don’t need any backup. Brandon, until you are eighteen years old, you can listen to me, or I can send your ass to Florida with your father. You will not turn into a criminal under my watch.”

  “Man, I’m not going anywhere. Those people lying, and I didn’t even do anything. You’re yelling at me for nothing.”

  “Go to your room, Brandon, because if you don’t, you will be so sorry. I don’t want to see your face.” I was so angry that my son was so dumb and just didn’t get it. His life could change with one bad decision. That was it. He had to go. I called Doug and told him to come and get his son.

  “I’m not dealing with him anymore Doug. All of a sudden he thinks he is so tough and hanging with the wrong kids, getting in trouble. I’d rather you come and get him.”

  “Vette, listen, if I could, I would send for him now, but I can’t.”

  “Doug, he said I couldn’t tell him who to be with. Anytime he can tell me, his mother, what I can’t tell him . . . that means he’s grown, and since he is starting to think he is grown, he can go. Come get him or send him a bus ticket.”

  “If you tell him who not to be with, he is going to want to be with those kids more. He’s being rebellious. Don’t give up on him. If you want to send him, send him, but I think you should wait until the end of the school year. I will take them for Christmas break.”

  “I really don’t know if I can wait until then.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Dana

  Adam’s brown love seat was so comfortable, and I was enjoying the peace of not doing anything. I was flipping between the pages of his Maxim and Men’s Health magazines, and he was on his laptop. We’d just come in from working out at the gym. We had both run seven miles. Well, he did seven miles. I walked maybe half of a mile, but I still felt very energized. We had had a light breakfast, had showered, and were going to watch the football game between naps and lovemaking. I was still learning Adam’s body and he mine, but I enjoyed every moment of us being together. That’s why I looked down at the screen of ringing phone and shook my head as my phone chimed loudly, “It’s them again, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it’s them.”

  Them was Stephen and Leah. I loved Leah, I was glad she had introduced us, and she was still my girl at work, but I’d come to the realization that she was extremely clingy. She wanted to be a part of everything. I really thought they or she thought they owned us. The couple dates were cute at first. Over the last month we had done everything from bar crawls to bowling, but enough was enough. Now we were tired and couldn’t take any more.

  “Don’t answer.”

  “Okay, I won’t.” I knew Leah couldn’t see me, but I still felt guilty for not answering. A few moments later Adam’s phone started buzzing on his dresser.

  “Leah, leave us alone.” Adam laughed. Then my phone rang again.

  “Oh, it’s not Leah. It’s Tiffany.” I answered. “Hey, Tiff.”

  “Where are you?” Tiffany asked

  “At Adam’s. Are you okay?”

  “Not really. I’ve been crying since Wednesday. I didn’t want to tell anyone, but Solomon stopped calling me. He called me every day, all day, and now nothing. I haven’t received one text message from him in four days. Dana, I don’t know what I did wrong. It makes absolutely no sense. Like, why wouldn’t he call me? I knew it was impossible for both of us to be happy at the same time.”

  “I don’t know. Did you call him?”

  “Yes, I left him a message, and I’ve been waiting for him to call me back, and he hasn’t, and something must be wrong. I’m telling you, somebody better be dead,” she groaned.

  “No one is dead. He just got tied up. Tiffany, don’t always wait for a man to take the lead. I think you should call him. That’s the only way you’re going to find out what exactly is going on.”

  “I’m not calling him. I tell you one thing. I really believed that this one was going to work. Now I’m single again.”

  “And it still might. You’ll never know unless you call him. It’s only been four days.”

  “I’m so scared. I’m really scared. I think when I call him, he is going to tell me what I already know . . . that it is over.”

  “It’s not over. Call him. You’re being silly and crazy.”

  “Okay, I’ll call him, but ask Adam if he has any friends, since I’m single again.”

  “No, I’m not asking him that. Call Solomon, and then call me back.”

  “What’s wrong?” Adam asked as he came u
p to me from behind, kissing me on my neck.

  “Tiffany’s boyfriend hasn’t called her in a few days.”

  “Yikes. What did she do?”

  “She didn’t do anything.”

  “Then he probably has a valid excuse or explanation for her.”

  “I sure hope he does.” I saw Tiffany’s number across my cell phone. That was fast.

  “So what happened?”

  “Well, his grandma died and the funeral is on Friday.”

  “I told you. You should go up there and support him.”

  “I am. He said he really needs me. Oh, tell Adam I said, ‘Never mind.’ ”

  “I will.” I hung up the phone and was so thankful that Solomon was not a jerk and that someone really had died. I wasn’t happy his grandma had passed, but, wow, it was possible for us both to be happy at the same time.

  CHAPTER 32

  Yvette

  Not even a week passed before Brandon’s vice principal was calling again. Brandon was now fighting Semaj. I think he wanted to see how much it would take to drive me crazy. If that was his intent, it was working. I couldn’t say anything but that I was on my way. This makes no sense, I thought. What if I was a normal person with a job? Then I would not be able to run back and forth to his school every day.

  We had just had a long talk about self-discipline, doing the right thing. His father had talked to him, my mother had talked to him, and so had his grandfather. And he went right back to school and forgot everything we discussed. What was the damn problem? I had tried talking to him like they said you were supposed to, but today I was going to use excessive force and kick his ass. I had too many things going on to have to run up to his school every day.

  I threw on my clothes, washed my face and brushed my teeth, and left the house. I tried to calm my nerves and turned on the radio, and at the next light I heard something pop and then the car started smoking. I coasted to the side of the road. I put my head in my lap and took a deep breath. Why? What now? I thought. I closed my eyes. This couldn’t be happening. I got out of the car and popped the hood open. I had no idea what I was looking at or looking for. Cars were riding by slowly, looking at the steam and smoke coming from my car, but no one stopped. I couldn’t stay there forever. I called my dad and started crying.