by Love Belvin
I nodded my head, silently. “I’ll be in late tonight. I’m going to church with Lillian.”
“Hmph!” I caught her grunt as I made my way out of the bedroom.
This time I didn’t hide my chuckle.
“Would you listen to yourself?” I scoffed from behind my desk.
Kema rolled her eyes to the back of her head in response as she exhaled. Baby Noel Jr. clutched in her arm, sleeping as contently as any five month old should in his mother’s arms.
“Lemme get this shit straight.” I leaned forward over my desk as I counted off on my fingers. “When you see Tasha, you’re going to slash her throat, then beat her ass. And then she will call 911. If you’re not found on the scene after doing this, po-po will find your ass; lock you up; Tasha will press charges and you will be separated from Noel Jr., here, until he’s a teenager.”
“Man, fuck that bullsh—”
“And”—I raised my volume to cut her off—“when you get out of prison, stewing in there while Tasha helps Noel raise your baby, Noel Jr. will despise you for not being there for him as a mommy should while Tasha treats her children with Noel better than she treats Noel Jr.”
Kema’s wide eyes shot down to her sleeping infant.
“Yeah.” I nodded with my mouth balled in the air and brows hiked. “Bet you didn’t think about that when you conjured this bullshit ass vindictive plan.”
“But he hit me! That nigga actually raised his hand to me. Plus, he can’t be ignoring us like this, Ms. Lexi!” Kema argued, less confident than she was when sharing her machete-scheming plot. “I need help. My welfare ain’t lasting us long. He need stuff. Shit!” She began to rock lil Noel Jr. roughly in her arms. I was sure it was inadvertent; Kema felt defeated.
Thank God!
“When does your check come through, Kema?”
She sucked her teeth, sat up as though about to get turned up again. “Friday, but he need pampers tonight. I only got one, two more left. How that gon’ last me till my card is reloaded in two days? But that nigga over at Crown Chicken ordering shit up with that bitch on his arm. She should have some respect.”
I’d already started reaching for my purse when I countered, “No. He should.” I handed her my last twenty just as my stomach growled its emptiness.
Like…my last twenty until I got paid on Friday, which was two days away. It was supposed to feed me until then. Once again, I’d given my last to someone else with no idea of how to make it to my next meager pay myself. I couldn’t think about how I’d eat tonight or going into the end of the week; I just wanted to put this fire out so Kema wouldn’t do anything stupid like so many nineteen year olds her age—and older—did around here. This is what I encountered every day. I would sleep well doing this for little Noel Jr.
I knew these young girls well enough to know Kema wouldn’t go out and do anything that would put her baby at risk—not tonight anyway. She wasn’t like the one twenty year old who left her infant on his father’s mother’s doorstep in the dead of winter and didn’t bother to knock at three in the morning. The baby almost died from hypothermia after that stunt. Kema also wasn’t at the point of prostituting in front of her baby or willing to offer her baby up for a damn freak to have his with. Yup! I’d had one of those. When the cops came to pick her up from the recreation where she was hiding and told me why, they had to toss my ass midair when I charged at her. I’d been giving her hundreds of dollars to help with the baby.
Just as the money exchanged our hands, there was a knock at the frame of my office door.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt this…” Nyree flicked her delicate wrist in the air. “…charitable moment. I didn’t realize this was the welfare office and today was payday.”
Kema’s hard eyes flew to me in inquiry. My shoulders sagged as I exhaled. Kema was not the ghetto chick you wanted to show up to stroke your own damn ego. She was the kind you wanted to cross the street and get the hell away from if you couldn’t tuck your bourgeois lip glass in. I needed to end Kema’s visit right away.
“Thanks for letting me borrow that last week, Kema. Sorry it took so long for me to return it.” I smiled politely at her. “I forgot I was expecting Ms. Johnson this afternoon. I’ll kick it with you later.”
Slowly, Kema processed my ending her visit. She shot Nyree an examining eye to be sure she wasn’t trying to slight her, but my standing and rushing over to kiss Noel Jr. on his smooth cheek distracted her. Kema left without incident and I held on to the doorframe in a white-knuckle grip as I shook off what could have been a horrible encounter. When I glanced up, I noticed Nyree pulling out three cartons of my favorite cuisine: Japanese, more specifically sushi.
“You’re a horrible liar, you know— Hey!” She shoo’ed my hand unsuccessfully. “Aren’t you going to wash your hands after touching those…people?”
After gazing into her hard eyes, I shook my head. “The nearest bathroom is all the way down the hall. If you’re willing to use it, I’ll follow to wash my hands. Until then, I’ll use this.” I squirted hand sanitizer. I’d lost my manners at the sight of food—good food.
I offered the pump to my girlfriend who paused just as meditatively as Kema had moments ago. Then she broke, snatching it from my hand.
“Fine, and only because I won’t be here long,” she hissed. “In fact, I kinda lost my appetite at the reminder of what that bathroom looks like.”
I was too hungry to react to her clear disgust of my workplace. I knew Nyree would never not be her usual overweening self. It’s who she’d always been from the time I met her years ago at Rusty’s, oddly enough.
Inhaling a spicy tuna, my brows pinched while my eyes traveled up to hers as she stood over my desk staring at me with incredulity.
“What?” I garbled.
“What?” she mocked. “You’ve eaten three rolls in two seconds! You’re acting like one of your deprived clients around here.
In that moment, my stomach pangs increased at the sight of sushi. I felt depraved.
“I’m starving,” I attempted as I swallowed, clearing my palate. “I just gave away my last twenty and wondered where my next meal was coming from.”
Nyree pushed at her rolls with chopsticks as she rolled her eyes. “You’re hanging around that Lillian chick too much. Giving away your last won’t get you into those mystical pearly gates, Lex.”
I couldn’t help my laughter. Nyree was dead ass serious, but I always found her snobbishness comical. I’d met her working at a strip club, for crying the fuck out loud. I watched her go down on a guy…and heard about rendezvous with a girl, too. She was from a middle class family with both parents having professional careers, securing a wonderful life for her. She was the typical entitled and rebellious brat who wanted to walk on the wild side. And she did, on the low, for almost six months until things went…awry.
As I dumped a piece of roll into my mouth I observed my girlfriend. Nyree was beautiful, almond skin, long natural hair that was straight today, almost past her shoulder blades. Her hair was a vivid auburn lately and makeup slightly detectable. She wore designer jeans and heels with a tweed Chanel blazer under an expensive ass shawl that she flipped into place so well with one fling of her wrist. Oh, and you better believe the princess had a Chanel bag to match the blazer. I don’t think Nyree’s parents were rich, but they did work their asses off as a veterinarian and dentist. It was enough to provide a comfortable life for their only child, even after she humiliated them by working at a strip club for half a year before they learned of it.
“You know, not everyone is fortunate to have a mom and dad with advanced degrees who give a shit about them,” I informed.
“Nope!” she agreed. “And I won’t be demonized because I do. There are programs to assist the less fortunate. That’s why my advanced-degreed parents donated to fund raisers for candidates like Barack Obama, who eventually became President of these United States and implemented this small idea called Obama Care.”
“Did you
vote for him, Ny?” I asked.
She waved off the question. “That’s not the point, Lex!”
“Then what’s the point, princess?” I heckled. Oh, she hated that pet name.
“Don’t start your shit, Lex. My point is you didn’t have half the stability I had coming up and you made a good life for yourself…eventually.” She pouted. “You bettered yourself. You don’t have six kids with five baby daddies and waiting on the taxpayers’ compensation for your mistakes.” I gave her a leveling stare. Nyree knew she was walking up to the precipice. We’d had plenty of heated battles on the topic of class and separation in the U.S. in the twenty-first century. She knew I would lay down my usual easy-going crown with her on that issue.
I held her gaze for seconds long before she sighed her concession. “This place was supposed to be temporary, Lexi. I can’t wait until you graduate and find a real job…with real money.”
“This is a real job. I actually like what I do. Love the people I work with and for.”
“What people? You run this place. It can’t be safe! I read the news about this area. And what about being able to survive off your wages? Does that not matter to you, Good Samaritan?”
My salary decreased eight months ago when the grant from the city was reduced for the recreation center where I worked as the program director. My job was overseeing many facets of the center, including payroll. We’d gotten a thirty percent reduction in our general funding, forcing my hand at cutting salaries and even a layoff. The staff was small, had been shrinking each year for four years now. I could have clipped two staff members to preserve my salary or increased my wages from having to broaden my responsibilities from the deficit of employees, whose jobs still needed to be done, but I wasn’t built that way. None of us were making the king’s ransom and needed our jobs. I’d known this because out of the eight staff members reporting to me, I’d interviewed and hired six myself.
At the time, the cut wounded me, but didn’t kill me. I worked three jobs: one fulltime, one part time and the other part-part time. The refund checks I received from the balance of my loans paid out to my school counted as supplemental income I could blow on frivolous things. Lately, they’d been keeping me afloat. This was my last semester in school, therefore no more payouts. I was sad to see the refund checks go.
“What brings you down here today, seeing that it’s complete torture to come to a place so beneath you, princess?”
“I told mommy you have a man. A man who will be escorting you to the engagement party,” she murmured…and still hadn’t eaten not one piece of sushi.
“And? Why are you lying about me having a man for an event that’s over a month away?” I was losing my patience.
“First of all, it’s less than a month away and as my maid of honor, I’m expecting you to know the countdown,” she stated vehemently. “And I wanted to give you the heads up so you can prepare.”
I slammed my tray onto my desk, “Fucking rich people problems!”
Nyree jumped from the desk and raised her manicured nails. “Don’t go fight the power on me, bitch! You know I’m trying to get my parents to like you again.”
“Why? They haven’t all these years!”
“Because you’re my maid of honor and—”
“And they’re paying for your wedding!” I finished it for her. “Look, Ny, I don’t have to be in your wedding. Hell, if I could just attend the ceremony and pass on the reception to keep from disrupting your parents’ joy I will. I’m cool about this shit.”
“No!” The panic rose in her face and her eyes went wild. “We can’t do that. You will be in my wedding. That’s final.”
Things went quiet. I’d always questioned her adamancy of having me so near when her parents didn’t approve. As a kid it hurt; as a woman damn near thirty, it’d lost its potency. I didn’t give a fuck. You get there when you get tired of people making it clear you aren’t good enough to sit at their table, so to speak.
“Shit!” Nyree spewed as she glanced down at her Montblanc watch. “I have a coloring appointment uptown in fifteen minutes. I gotta go.” She surveyed her uneaten food and her eyes fluttered. “You can have mine, too.” She gathered her things and headed for the door.
Nyree glanced back for half a second, seemingly apologetic. Then she applied her sunglasses and strutted out of my office with her chin in the air.
I felt sick…and angry. Without a second thought, I snatched her platter of rolls from my desk and tossed them into the trashcan. Then I went for mine…and paused. I had enough wisdom to know, though I’d lost my appetite fucking around with Nyree, I’d be hungry and regretful soon enough if I discarded my rolls. As I covered them up, my cell rang. It was Pablo.
I grabbed the phone, inspired in more than one way.
“Pabl—Juan!” I corrected myself quickly. Damn that Ms. Remah for her racist nicknames that were somehow stapled into my psyche.
Juan was a Puerto Rican man, no more than 26-27 years old. He was an inch or two shorter than my 5’11” giraffe of a frame with olive skin and dark, thick, jet black hair. He was rather handsome and hugely talented. The problem? He lacked swag. I could tell he was ‘soft’ on me, but thankfully not possessing the courage yet to do anything about it.
“Hey, Lex. I called Ms. Remah about the leak. She told me to call you and basically rushed me off the phone.”
Damn you, old grump! She was hesitant because she didn’t have the money to pay him.
“Sorry about that. I was wondering if you had time to take a look at it this week.”
“Yeah. I’m actually on my way over there now. That’s why I called.”
I pushed my fist into my nose. “Thanks, Juan. You’ll let me know what it’ll cost, right?”
“Si, Lexi.” I heard rustling in the background. “Hey…gotta go.”
“Juan, wait!” tumbled from my mouth.
“Yeah?”
“Listen,” I managed then tongued my top lip nervously. “My friend is getting married in the fall. Her engagement party is, oddly, in a few weeks. Would you mind going with me so I don’t look like a complete loser?”
“Uhhh…” he hesitated for a moment. “Ye… Sí… Sure. I-I don’t mind. O-okay.”
“Okay.” I exhaled. I have no idea why I was so anxious. I mean, yeah, I asked him out, but I had no intention of dating him. I only needed a simple standin to appease Nyree’s parents. “Okay. Later,” I supplied with more confidence and finality, ending the call.
My phone chirped again. It was a text from Lillian saying she was outside. Shit! Was it time to go already? I paid a cursory glance to the time on the phone and confirmed it was indeed 6:34 p.m. I made quick work of shutting down my desktop, grabbing my purse and coat and locking up my office. Lillian’s black Camry was out at the corner, waiting for me. I slipped in and was immediately soothed by the blasting heat.
“Hey girl,” I managed as I yanked the seatbelt over me.
“Hey!” Lillian returned lifting a cup of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. “I know I’m a little late. I had to stop for a pick-me-up after the day I’ve had. The Presb is going to be the death of me.”
I snorted my empathy. Lillian was a registered nurse at NewYork-Presbyterian, a children’s hospital. She’d shared enough horror stories about her occupation for me to not complain about the warzone of mine. We’d spend hours sometimes exchanging atrocities.
“Wow! It’s like that? How was your day?”
“Pompous, insensitive, incompetent doctors and lazy, nasty nurses…blah, blah, blah, blah! I don’t even wanna get into my extended day,” she breathed out. “How was yours, though? I overheard a surgeon talking about how a builder he knows told him in secret about condos they’re going to put up after knocking this place down.”
I sighed, releasing a long breath. I didn’t want to think about the impending closing of my job of eight long years. What was even more depressing was there were no plans to transfer my or my staff’s employment elsewhere, as technic
ally we weren’t city employees.
Bullshit.
“Where should I start: the vomit I had to clean from the gym floor courtesy of Betsy’s night of binging on booze when her choice of poison is crack and not moonshine someone brought up from Georgia for her birthday, or the cliff I had to talk Kema down from when she was threatening to beat the shit out of her baby daddy’s new girlfriend because he hit her for asking for money to support their child and believing her to be the cause of his negligence of said child?”
I didn’t want to mention Nyree’s visit today. There was a mutual preference to not mix those two. They were polar opposites. In fact, Lillian was in a class by herself. We weren’t exactly besties, just family-like who hung out on occasion.
“That’s crazy!” she blew air from pursed lips. “And just to think you’re still dealing with this in the midst of the shutdown rumors.”
“Such is life.” I shrugged.
Today, as stressful as it appeared, wasn’t the worst of days for me at the rec. As the program director, I was over several grants that offered social services to the pauperized in Harlem. We had various, yet small programs offering vouchers for food, clothing, job training, smoking cessation, and shelter among other services. My site was highly criticized for having all but recreational services available. We had a large gym and subsequent smaller ones for classes or private athletic usage. My city contact informed me last week that the lack of ‘appropriate usage’ was putting our funding on the cutting block. Never mind that we used some of the smaller rooms to board women and children needing a 2-3 day transitional period before temporary housing from the city was available to them. Or that some of these women needed protection from abusive lovers. Or that addicts waiting for a bed in one of the rehab centers needed temporary drug-free housing. The rule of temporary residency was no drugs, sex or alcohol and no one stayed more than three nights. There wasn’t a constant or heavy flow of residents, but certainly of clients in need of public assistance. Though on a small scale, we were filling in the gap for the city’s flawed system.
