by Derrick Jaxn
They were like the stepchildren of Mother Nature. Most of the animals there ended up as road kill. Never made it to the zoos to be admired by kindergarten classes or on any brochures for forest parks. Just possums, wild rabbits, and mosquitoes with an occasional deer that nobody cared about unless it was hunting season.
And me, I was karma's middle child, forgotten for everything good I'd done, but the moment I stepped out of line she was right there. She popped up every time like I owed her five dollars.
A vibration went off in my pocket and I realized I'd forgotten to leave my phone in the car. It was no later than six in the morning so I knew it could only be one person calling me.
Momma.
She didn't care one bit about the possibility of me still being asleep, as she never did in the past when she used to wake me up every morning. Sometimes she called just to ask me why I hadn't called her first, something mothers do.
"Hello?" I said, trying to steady my feet on the uneven dirt between thorny vines and trees lined with ants.
"Hey, why you up so early?" she asked.
"How did you know I was up?"
"I can hear it in your voice. You outside? I hear birds or something."
"Yes, ma'am. Just out taking some pictures."
"It's that bad, huh?"
"What's that bad?"
"Your legal trouble."
"Wait, who told you--"
"I got a letter in the mail yesterday. Something about you needing to appear in court here in a few weeks, but it didn't say what for. Figured I'd call and let you know since I knew you wasn't gon' call me."
Damn. I knew I should've changed my address on my license when I had the chance.
"Momma, it's kind of a long story--"
"Pray."
"Ma'am?"
"I said pray. You too busy trying to tell me what's going on so I understand. You ever thought about telling God so he'd understand?"
"God gave me these problems. Why would I--"
"Because he's trying to get you to talk to him. So talk to him. Not me. Love you. Bye."
"Hello? Momma? Hello?"
She'd already hung up.
She made sense. I'd always viewed faith as something that needed to be a last resort. Like it should only be an option once you'd done your due diligence in getting on the right path, but the more I did, the worse things had gotten. Maybe a prayer wasn't a bad idea.
I put my camera back in my book bag and found a clean place to kneel and close my eyes. I never understood why or if kneeling and closed eyes were necessary, but I saw no reason to take chances now.
"Dear God, thank you. Thank you for this day and thank you for this meal--ah, damn,"
A cussword slipped out after I went into auto pilot saying grace over food I wasn't eating so I opened my eyes.
God had heard me curse before. I wasn't fooling him with any political correctness now. Maybe being real with him instead of pretending he wasn't around 24/7 to know how I really talked was a better angle anyway.
I started over.
"Dear Lord, I'm sorry for cursing. But, I've been through a lot. I know it's nothing compared to what kids in Africa are going through and people in the military and so on, but it's a lot for me. It's more than I understand and probably will be more than I can handle here in the near future. Please, if you're listening, help me. I have nothing to bargain with. No good deeds that make me deserving, no promises to you I can keep. I just need help and I don't know how I'mma make it without you. Amen."
I opened my eyes and saw what had to be the Godzilla of spiders less than two feet away crawling towards me. It was about the size of the palm of my hand, the same palm I used to throw the nearest stick at it. I don't think I've ever made a dumber decision in my life.
It jumped, and I sprinted. Every ounce of athleticism came rushing back through my body as I tore through the hanging limbs, stepping over emerged roots covered in leaves, and maneuvering in and out of the trees like I'd been training for this all my life. If I left anything behind, it now belonged to Spidey Godzilla.
I got to my car winded and sweating, fully awake if I wasn't before and looking up at the sky figuratively at God thinking, What was that for? Must've been my slap on the wrist for cursing.
I drove back to my apartment, scared to even hear another curse word, and noticed a familiar face standing on the street corner.
It was Lamarcus.
An ice cold feeling flushed across my chest. I wanted better for him. Auntie did too. But we'd done the best we could do. I guess it was God's turn now.
I pulled up to the light and made sure to make eye contact with him before I pulled off. When I did, he smiled and ran over to my car, motioning for me to roll down the window.
"What's good, bruh?!" he beamed, as if we were long-lost family members.
I was still a little cautious. "I don't know. What's good with you?"
"Chillin', man."
Seeing as how he was going to beat around the bush and I was about to be holding up traffic, I stopped wasting time.
"Why are you out here? After all that we went through this past weekend, you still haven't learned yet?"
"What you mean?"
"You know what I mean. You out here on the block again, slinging. You just don't know when to quit, do you?"
He looked at me confused then shook his head before busting out laughing. "Man, I ain't out here selling no drugs. I'm waiting for the bus. I'm going to school."
He reached under his shirt and pulled out a notebook that was wedged under his belt.
"Yeah, ain't have no book bag so I had to improvise a lil' bit. But hey, at least I got it. I'm done with the street life."
I laughed at my stupidity and exhaled at the fact he actually appeared to be telling the truth.
"That's what's up, and my bad for assuming. I wasn't tryna play you. Hop in, I'll give you a ride."
He opened the door and got in. I inhaled, expecting traces of marijuana to be in the air. But there were none.
"So, you back in school now?" I asked.
"Yeah, I wasn't out that long or nothin'. Just skipped when I knew I had to but I'm not missing no more days. Talked to my teacher and made a deal with her. She said if I came for the rest of the year she wouldn't hold me back."
"That's good. How'd Auntie take the news about us getting locked up?"
"How you think? She damn near fainted. Not for me, but for you."
"For me?"
"Yeah, you. I get in trouble all the time. She thought I got you caught up. That was until I told her 'bout my phone."
"Wait, what about your phone?"
"Oh, she ain't told you? My recording saved before it went dead. I got every single word those cops said because while you was talking, I set up my voice recorder to use in court."
"You better not be playing with me, Lamarcus. I swear I'll turn this car around if you're tryna be funny!" I said, my heart pounding with excitement now.
"Nah, I put that on everything. Ain't my first time getting caught up with twelve. I knew it was worth a shot, and when I played it back, realized they never read us our rights. We gon' be straight, bruh. I told you."
I pulled up to the front of his school and stopped the car. He reached his hand for a congratulatory dap, but I reached and grabbed his neck for a hug. A weight was ascending from my shoulders for every split second I held on.
But of course, we both parted, awkwardly.
"I can't thank you enough. I didn't know what I was going to do. Man this is huge."
"Nah, I should be thanking you. We still ain't got a lot of money, but seeing you doing your thing and taking time to talk to me; it really meant a lot, bruh. For real. I'mma gon' head and get to class so I can get on this schoolwork. Tell Grandma I love her."
"I got you," I returned, this time for a dap and finger snap.
After he got out, I looked up through the windshield and into the clouds again, realizing my prayers were heard.
; Chapter 11
Me, Myself, and I
"Hey, what's good, Ronnie? It's Shawn. I tried calling you a few times. Not sure what's up with your phone or whatever. But hit me back when you get a chance. Peace."
This was the second voice-mail following at least five unanswered texts to Ronnie over the last week. I wasn't sure if this was some kind of test to see how persistent I could be, or if something had happened to him, but I'd much rather him just pick up the damn phone. Popping up at his house wouldn't be my style, but it was about to come to that with the deadline for the application submission approaching and me still not having a chance to tell him I wasn't going to have the money.
But whatever. If he wasn't stressing it, neither was I.
With Chantel out of the picture, I didn't have many shoots to do or pictures to edit so it freed up some time to get back focused on my studies. I was approaching the final stretch of college and I needed to finish strong and get the hell out of there.
What I was going to do next was the only question.
My photography was on point, but the income was almost seasonal. Great during graduation season but during the summer, nothing. I hated doing family portraits because the kids would never sit still and the wives of the family never liked how they looked in the camera and blamed it on both me and my camera. Then the husband, although he didn't want to take the pictures in the first place, had to display some level of dissatisfaction to make sure his wife knew he was in her corner.
I could do without those.
Weddings too. They paid the most, but the moment you arrived, you were officially working for every family member of the bride. If the mother told you to sit, you'd damned well better sit. If she told you to hold her dollar store disposable camera so she could get her own pictures, you'd better do that too. If she asked you to take a picture with her 2005 original Motorola Razor flip phone that she felt so hipped for still having in working order seven years later and the picture came out blurry, it was your fault.
Between that and trying to aim the camera over the flood of friends and family who also wanted their own photos to put on Facebook during the most priceless moments of the wedding, just for you to get blamed for ruining memories of a lifetime, no amount of money was worth it.
I only wanted to do model shoots and occasional senior portraits, but more than anything, I needed to keep some money in my pocket so I could keep my gas light off.
But as for a career, I needed something more stable. More secure, and with a good starting salary.
There was a career fair coming up and that would be my best shot. The worst that could happen was being told no. But best case scenario, I'd update my resumé, put on my best tie and smile and get lucky enough to interview with a male recruiter who loved sports or a female recruiter who loved guys who loved sports.
So I finished my last class for the day, still with no word from Ronnie, and headed over to the library to print out my resumé.
I walked across the ave that connected the yard to the library, looking both ways a few times since my headphones were in. I started listening to music more often to keep people from wanting to start conversations, and it helped occupy my mind from thinking about Danielle.
A part of me missed her; a bigger part of me missed what we had. She had an effect on me I wasn't used to, one I didn't want to part with. We could laugh and chill; we could make passionate love, or we could not say a thing to one another and I'd still be happy just to have her there with me. And her support, that seemed to glue everything I was trying to accomplish together. Without that glue, my goals were defunct.
It was gloomy outside, assumedly getting ready to rain. As I walked through the gates, getting closer to the door, I looked through the top window and saw what looked like her, but was hard to tell from three floors down. I usually could spot her with no doubt, but when you miss someone, everyone seems to be them at first glance. So, I wasn't sure.
Wouldn't hurt to find out though.
I continued through the door, trying to think of what I'd say when I saw her. If I saw her. If it was her at all.
Don't think she quite had enough time to cool off, and even if she did, did it even matter anymore? I felt like crap after getting caught with Chantel over at the crib, and it was my guess that Danielle couldn't care less.
I walked by the work study librarian student who hadn't noticed that the couple in the room beside her was probably having hand sex. His closed eyes, jacket on his lap covering his girl's hand, and her death stare at me when I walked by gave them away. I politely smiled and continued walking.
Instead of the elevator, I took the stairs up all three flights, skipping every other step to get there faster. My heart was beating and I was getting nervous. Figured maybe I'd just keep it cool when I saw her. No need to make a scene. I'd just speak briefly, hopefully pick up on some good vibes, and take it from there.
I finally made it to the door of the computer lab and got my confirmation. It was her. This time standing by the printer getting her papers from it.
"Hey, Danielle," I mumbled. Just in case she ignored me, I could just pretend I was talking to myself.
She looked up, and at the sight of me, her expression changed to less than excited.
"Hi, Shawn." She grabbed the last of her printouts and went to staple them.
"You know, it's good to see--"
"You ready to go?" A guy cut me off mid-sentence. I looked up and saw he was talking to Danielle with her books in his hand. He was tall, probably mixed with black and white, a lot of tattoos on his forearm with a somewhat familiar face but I couldn't quite place where I'd seen him before.
I knew the books belonged to her because she never changed her notebook since her freshman year, and it was the same notebook I set on the ground the night we slow danced in the parking lot.
She looked at him and replied, "Yeah. I'm done now." Then back at me with a brief smile, somewhat out of pity before walking off with him.
I can't lie, I felt stuck. Like, I couldn't say anything or do anything; I just stood there in the same place for a few seconds picking up my face.
This didn't look like any casual study buddy or person she was tutoring. There was a non-platonic energy, just in the way he was carrying her books and cut me off to ask if she was ready to go. And she was ready to leave. With him. Away from me.
I snapped out of it and went over to the window to see what I wish I hadn't. They left out into the parking lot, one of his hands hanging over her opposite shoulder before he went and opened the passenger side door to his car for her to get in.
I'd never seen her with another guy. Not in pictures, not mentally or even in my worst nightmare.
Jealousy. Anger. Confusion. Pick one. I felt them all at the thought of how easy it was for her to move on so quickly.
Trust me, I know I had no right to be mad, but the decision wasn't voluntary. I just was. I did what a lot of guys do; I put her in this light, on somewhat of a pedestal that there was never going to be another guy for her besides me. Unrealistic for sure. But she was never realistic to begin with. She was my dream girl.
I did an about-face to head back downstairs to my car. I wasn't going to follow them despite the curiosity of where they were going next. Because no matter where they went, it wasn't going to make it easier on me.
I just needed to get away.
Jazmin was gone and that made me miss her absence like crazy. I needed her tough love and comforting laughter more than anything right now, but I screwed that up. Ronnie would've been clutch but he still hadn't called or texted back. I needed somebody, but didn't have anybody. Mostly the fault of my own. Again.
I went home this time, trying to gather my thoughts and establish exactly the way I needed to feel and proceed from there.
Was this the point where I deleted her number and blocked her from everything online? Did I need to approach her no matter where she was and let her know how I felt? Write a letter? Break down? Deal wi
th it?
Deal with it.
That's what I chose. I was tired of breaking down. As a man, you make your bed and you sleep in it. If you toss and turn all night, your fault. Should've thought about that before you chose the sheets.
***
I woke up the next morning, missing my first class so I could have some time to my thoughts. I think we all need that from time to time. Without that occasional catching up, the changes we go through can make us a stranger to ourselves.
My disposition of being in the wrong and getting exactly what I deserved felt foreign although surely I had been there before. The difference this time was that I was no longer taking the moral escape route of "Only God can judge me," but instead, just accepting the fact that I'm...ordinary.
I messed up. I did wrong. Intentions didn't matter once the damage was done so there was nothing left but to take what was coming. That just so happened to be the best thing to happen to me walking away and being justified in every single step.
I did end up making a return to the library, which went a lot smoother this time. No sign of Danielle and her new guy, no drama at all, so I was able to print out my résumés as planned.
I drove from the library, taking a detour by Ronnie's apartment complex to see if his car was outside. The curiosity had gotten the best of me, but I wasn't going to go knock on his door. At least if I knew his car was there, I could cross out the possibility of something being wrong with him.
And it turned out, he was good. Car parked, light in his living room window on.
I pulled off a few seconds later, ready to charge it all to the game, when in my review mirror I saw him coming out of his apartment with some of his fraternity brothers. Impulse guided my hands to turn the car around although I wasn't sure if it was a good idea.
Correction, I was absolutely positive that it wasn't a good idea.
"Hey, what's good, Ronnie?" I said, walking up to him.
