by Anne Schraff
Destini remembered what Marko had said the other day. That there’s “a little invisible stamp on you, girl. It says ‘Property of Tyron Becker. Do not touch.’ “ Something about that scared Destini, but she quickly put it out of her mind. It was such a warm and comfortable feeling to be with Tyron that she refused to let anything spoil it.
“I hate for tonight to end, Destini,” Tyron said as they neared her house. “I’d like to be with you all night and tomorrow and forever.”
“Yeah, but I promised Mom I’d be home by eleven,” Destini replied.
“I know,” Tyron said. “I’m just dreaming, babe.”
They pulled into Destini’s driveway and she started to get out of the car. Tyron took her hand and pulled her toward him. He kissed her on the lips. He held her in his arms and wouldn’t let go. “I love you so much,” he whispered.
“Me too,” Destini sighed, kissing him back. Finally he let her out of the car. Destini walked to her door, stopped and turned around, blowing Tyron another kiss. Her lip was all healed now. She didn’t even think about what happened anymore. But now, because Tyron had kissed her so hard, her lip hurt a little where it had healed. But Destini didn’t mind.
At school on Monday, Sami met Destini as she walked from the bus. “Destini,” Sami called out, “you look so pretty girl. You are blossoming.”
“Thanks Sami,” Destini called back.
A boy was standing there, a boy Destini had seen many times on the bus. Once she hoped he’d stop to talk to her, but he never did. Now he was looking at her.
“Hi,” he said. “Aren’t we in Buckingham’s science class.”
“Yeah,” Destini answered.
“I’m Quincy Pierce,” he went on. “My mom works at the same hospital your mom works at. You’re Destini, right? Mom said to say hello to you. She really likes your mom.”
“Oh yeah,” Destini replied. “She talks about Suzy Pierce all the time. She likes her too.”
Destini was suddenly nervous. She was standing in front of Harriet Tubman’s statue chatting with a cute boy. Was anyone spying on her? She glanced around, expecting Jasmine to be hiding behind the statue, but she wasn’t. Destini breathed a sigh of relief, but she said no more to Quincy Pierce. It was unlike her to be cold and unfriendly to a classmate, but she was a little bit afraid.
As she walked to class, Destini thought about Sereeta and Jaris being friends, but they were free to chat with other people. Kevin and Carissa were close, but they had other friends. But, Destini thought, poor Tyron was insecure. That’s why Destini had to be extra careful not to hurt his feelings.
When Destini got home from school, she learned that Mom had left work early to help Dad. Her mother was putting some soup and a salad in containers. “Honeychild, your father called. He’s feeling poorly, so I’m taking him some supper. His brother, Anson, has been letting him stay in that empty house Anson is trying to sell, but your father is just laying around trying to live on potato chips and beer!”
Destini knew that, as angry and disgusted as Mom was with Dad, she still, deep down, cared a little for him. She made him some pea soup with ham and a nice salad with tomatoes and greens.
They drove to the empty house and found Destini’s father lying on a recliner watching television.
“We brought you some dinner,” Mom announced in a businesslike voice. “You been neglecting your health.”
“Smells tolerable,” Dad commented. He winked at Destini.
“The salad is real good, Dad,” Destini said. “It’s got that creamy dressing that you like.”
When they were getting ready to leave, Destini dashed over and planted a kiss on her father’s unshaven cheek.
“At least the poor child loves me,” Dad declared.
“Little you’ve done to deserve it, mister,” Mom told him. Then she added, “If you need anything, you got our phone number. Don’t be drinking anymore tonight. You drank enough. I see beer bottles all over the place. Eat the soup and salad.” As they walked through the darkness to the car, Mom turned to Destini and said, “He looks bad.”
Chapter Ten
On the ride home, Mom said, “Fool of a man, he’s let his whole life go down the drain. When his time comes, who’s gonna bury him? He probably doesn’t have no burial insurance. So you know what that means?”
It made Destini sad to think of her father dying. He never was much of a father, but in some way she did love him. “What does it mean, Mom?”
“Means they put him in a pauper’s grave. Like an animal. County does it. Regular burials cost money. So what do we do? Let him go to a pauper’s grave or spend eight or nine thousand on a burial when that’s more than we even got in the bank. And I’m saving that for your college,” Mom stated.
“Oh Mom,” Destini said, “it wouldn’t be right not to have a funeral in Pastor Bromley’s church and a burial in the cemetery with his mom and pop . . .”
“Easy to say, child,” Mom said, “but all these years I been putting away money for your future. For college. Should I cheat you for a man who never done right by us?”
“Mom, maybe Dad won’t die real soon,” Destini suggested. “Maybe he’ll be okay and he won’t die until I’m finished with school and I’m making money on a job. Then I’ll, you know, take care of him, Mom.”
“Maybe,” Mom murmured, driving down the dark streets.
In science the next day, Quincy walked up to Destini’s desk. “I’m sorry if I upset you yesterday,” he apologized. “It’s just that your mom and mine are such good friends.”
Destini looked at the boy. He was really nice looking. She smiled at him. “Oh, you didn’t upset me,” she told him. “I just had something else on my mind. My mom always talks about having coffee at the breaks with your mom.”
Quincy smiled with relief. “I was worried I’d scared you or something. You looked scared.”
“Oh no,” Destini said, laughing.
At lunch, Destini couldn’t find Tyron, so she joined Alonee and Sami for lunch.
“Did you guys meet Quincy Pierce yet?” Alonee asked as she peeled her orange.
“Yeah, I met him,” Destini responded. “His mom and mine work at the same hospital. They’re good friends.”
“Speak of the boy,” Sami chimed in, “look at him over there wandering around like a lost soul. Hey, Quincy, over here. Join us for lunch.”
Quincy grinned and walked slowly over. “Just bought some hot dogs for lunch,” said. “They smell funny.”
“Don’t worry boy,” Sami said, “you can always get your stomach pumped.”
“Where you from, Quincy?” Alonee asked.
“Los Angeles. My mom got the job here and we moved down a few weeks ago,” Quincy answered.
They were all talking and joking, when Destini had a strange feeling of fear. She turned sharply and saw Jasmine standing nearby, staring at her. Destini got up and walked over to Jasmine.
“He’s a cute dude,” Jasmine remarked. “Tyron sent me to tell you he’s doing football practice and he’s sorry he missed meeting you for lunch. But looks like you’re doin’ fine.”
“Jasmine, don’t go causing trouble, okay? That guy—Quincy, he just joined us for lunch. It has nothing to do with me,” Destini told her. “Am I supposed to chase him?”
“Hey, girl,” Jasmine sang, “you’re getting all steamed. It’s like they say—the guilty don’t need no accuser. You’re a flirt, little sister, that’s what you are.”
Alonee and Sami came walking over. “What’s goin’ down here?” Sami asked.
“Jasmine is saying I was flirting with Quincy,” Destini said. “She’s trying to stir up trouble between me and Tyron.”
“He stupid enough to care what this gossipy girl has to say?” Sami hissed with contempt. “Jasmine, you are one toxic sister.”
Jasmine shrugged and walked away.
Alonee stared at Destini and observed her. “Destini, you are shaking like a leaf. You’re scared of him, aren’
t you?”
“Of Tyron?” Destini said. “No I’m not. I love him and he loves me. You should see the beautiful gift he got for me. I’ll show it to you guys sometime. Anyway, I better get to class. The bell is gonna ring in a minute.”
Destini looked for Tyron on the football field but he’d already left. She made up her mind to find him after the last class and tell him what Jasmine was trying to do. Maybe Jasmine had a crush on Tyron and she was trying to break up Destini and Tyron for that reason. Or maybe she was just mean.
After the final class of the day, Destini went searching for Tyron. It was getting late and she missed her bus. She would have to wait for the second one. Finally, she found him near the American history classroom. “I’ve been looking for you,” he cried.
“I’ve been looking all over for you, Tyron. I missed you at lunch,” Destini said.
“Didn’t Jasmine come and tell you I was doing football practice?” Tyron asked.
“Yeah, she did, but not right away. I want to talk to you about that, Tyron,” Destini explained. “Jasmine is a troublemaker. She wants to make trouble for us. When I couldn’t find you for lunch, I sat down with Sami and Alonee. And then this guy, Quincy Pierce, he comes along and Sami invites him to eat with us. Well, there’s Jasmine spying on me and thinking I’m friends with Quincy and I don’t even know the guy. I don’t know why Jasmine is doing this but—”
“She cares about me,” Tyron interrupted. “She knows how much I love you and how this stuff is tearing me up.”
“What stuff?” Destini demanded.
A terrible look came over Tyron’s face. “The way you flirt with other guys even though you know I love you. First it was Derrick Shaw, and now this creep. I gave you that gold chain and took you to that great party. I did everything I could to prove to you how much I loved you, and still you do this to me.” His voice was wavy and emotional.
“Tyron, no,” Destini cried. “That’s insane. I never flirted with Derrick or this guy. It’s all insane.”
“Just tell me the truth, Destini. It’s okay. Just tell me what I gotta do to make you loyal to me,” Tyron insisted. “I’ll do anything.”
Destini was now very frightened. She backed away from Tyron. “Tyron, I am loyal to you. I always have been. Please Tyron, calm down,” she told him. She was turning to run from him when he lunged at her and grabbed her arm.
“Destini, I gave you the gold chain . . . I tried so hard . . . what’s the matter with you? Why do you keep going after other guys?” Tyron demanded. He had begun to cry.
“Let me go!” Destini pleaded. “You’re hurting me.”
Tyron began twisting Destini’s arm behind her back, and she screamed. They were near enough to the American history classroom for Ms. McDowell to hear her. The teacher was working late today.
Ms. McDowell came running from the classroom. “Let Destini go!” she yelled at Tyron as she got nearer. He ignored her. The teacher reached Destini and Tyron, stood her ground, and barked at Tyron: “Let her go, I said!” Tyron released Destini, stepped back, and then fled out the door and around the back of the building.
Ms. McDowell put her arm around Destini’s shoulders. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m okay . . . he almost broke my arm!” Destini whimpered.
“He’s hurt you before, hasn’t he?” the teacher inquired.
Destini nodded yes. “He punched me in the face and cut my lip, but he swore he’d never hurt me again.”
“We have to report this to the police, Destini,” Ms. McDowell advised. “This is a serious matter. Tyron is dangerous. There needs to be action taken. You understand that, don’t you?”
Tears streamed down Destini’s face. “I don’t want him to get in trouble,” she sobbed. “I still care about him. But I don’t want to see him again, not ever.”
Ms. McDowell and Mr. Hawthorne were very helpful when the police showed up. The officers took Destini’s statement, checked with Ms. McDowell, and assured them that the boy would be dealt with. The teacher then drove Destini home in her van.
As soon as Destini got home, she took the box containing the gold chain and pendant and mailed it to the Becker home. She destroyed the poetry page Tyron had given her. All the while she was doing this, she was sobbing. Her heart ached so much she thought something inside her would break. But nothing broke. She just continued to cry.
Destini’s mother took her in her arms and rocked her back and forth as she used to do when Destini was a little girl and was sick or troubled. That helped a little.
Destini thought she would never be able to smile or laugh again. She thought she would never trust another boy. But little by little, as she became absorbed in her classes, life got a little better. Tyron Becker did not return to Tubman High. He went somewhere for anger management treatment. Destini hoped his father would get help too so that Mrs. Becker would have a better life.
Several weeks after the incident with Tyron, on a Sunday night, Destini’s mother got a phone call. Destini heard her talking seriously on the phone for a few minutes. Then Mom came to Destini’s room. “I know you been through a lot, baby,” she sighed. “These past few weeks ain’t been easy for you. Last thing I want to do is add to your pain, but I just heard from your Uncle Anson. Your daddy has passed away.”
Destini and her mother went to the funeral home to discuss the costs of a regular burial. Choosing the least expensive casket, having him taken to church in a simple ceremony, and then getting him buried beside his parents in Good Hope cemetery would cost $7,000. All Destini’s mother had in the bank toward Destini’s college expenses was $6,000. The amount wasn’t going to go very far when Destini actually went off to college, but still parting with a dime of it had always broken Mom’s heart.
“We’ve got to, Mom,” Destini told her. “I don’t care if I have to work like a dog all through college. He’s my daddy. I want him buried in a decent way, like he was loved by somebody. I want the funeral in the church and him buried on that grass hill where grandma and grandpa are.”
“Child, I understand,” Mom said sorrowfully. “I can hardly bear to do it, but I will.”
They made all the arrangements. Mom borrowed the extra thousand dollars on her credit card. Now all of Destini’s college money was gone, and they were an additional thousand dollars in debt.
The following Saturday afternoon, the funeral of Arthur Fletcher was held in Pastor Bromley’s church. Even though Destini’s father never attended this or any church, the minister spoke kindly of him and reminded everyone of the unconditional love of God.
There were a few flowers around the casket and a single rose alongside the dead man. Destini’s father wore a nice black suit that Mom had hurriedly bought at the thrift store because nothing in his closet was fit to wear at his own funeral. He looked peaceful and even happy lying there with his hands folded.
Destini was amazed and touched by how many kids and parents came from Tubman High School for the funeral. Jaris and his parents came, as well as Sami, Alonee, and Trevor and his family. Kevin came with his grandparents. Ms. McDowell came, stopping to give Destini a hug. Even Mr. Pippin came in his rumpled suit. A few of Dad’s old cronies came and sat in the back. They were his drinking and gambling companions.
Finally, the service began. “We now commend our brother, Arthur Fletcher, to the Good Lord who created him,” Pastor Bromley intoned. Pastor Bromley’s wife, in her pleasant contralto voice, sang “The Old Rugged Cross.”
The burial at Good Hope Cemetery was private. Only Destini and her mother were there. It was late in the afternoon, and the grave had already been dug. The casket stood alongside it, waiting to be lowered once the last good-byes were said.
Destini placed a yellow rose atop the closed casket.
Then, as the red disc of a sun was almost down, one last mourner appeared at the cemetery. Anson Fletcher came running toward Destini and her mother, carrying a manila envelope. Anson had loved his brother, but not much.
Yet years ago, Dad had given his brother a manila envelope and told him that, if anything ever happened to him, to give the envelope Dad’s widow and daughter.
“What’s this, Anson?” Destini’s mother asked in a weary voice as she took the sealed envelope.
“Arthur gave me this ages ago,” Anson explained. “He said if he should pass, I had to make sure you get it. I had forgotten all about it. But a few hours ago I remembered it and here it is.”
Mom looked at Destini. “He’s probably apologizing for all he done to us,” she sighed to no one in particular. “For all the years he never give me money to raise our child . . . ”
Destini wept softly. She couldn’t stop. She loved Daddy the best she could. When all was said and done, he was her father, and she loved him as her father. She thought about the last time she saw him alive, when he smiled and winked at her. She felt he was trying to say that he sort of loved her too. Staring at the casket, she thought, “Daddy, I loved you. If you really loved me, you never told me.”
Destini’s mother opened the old envelope. Her eyes went wide. “It’s an insurance policy. It’s a paid-up policy! He must’ve bought it when you were born, Destini. He was having luck with the ponies in those days . . . ”
Destini said nothing. Her throat ached from crying. She looked at her mother and waited.
“Fifty thousand dollars!” Mom exclaimed. “And here’s a note . . . ‘Dear Sadie and Destini: I’m sorry, Daddy.’”
In the years to come, Destini would think a lot about what Tyron had done and how her daddy had lived his life. And maybe someday she would be able to sort out the reasons for their behavior. For now, she was content to believe that her father told her that he really loved her.
Destini fell into her mother’s arms, and they both stood there together, crying until the sun went down.
