A Love Hate Thing

by Whitney D. Grandison

  The dinner conversation was light and humorous, and all the while I noticed Tyson didn’t look at me or speak to me as the others carried on. I wasn’t sure if that was for my parents’ benefit, or if something was wrong.

  Jordy was busy scarfing down his food, barely taking a moment to breathe.

  “Done!” Jordy declared. He grabbed his glass of water and drank it in two gulps.

  “What’s the rush?” my father asked with a chuckle.

  Jordy stood and grabbed his plate. “Trice’s taking me to the movies.” He faced Tyson and eyed him and his plate. “You done yet?”

  Even though he wasn’t finished, Tyson nodded and stood as well. “Yeah, we can go.”

  Underneath the table Shayne kicked my ankle, and one look at her found her making a face as she bobbed her head toward Tyson.

  “Can I come, too?” I spoke up.

  Tyson barely glanced at me. “Uh, sure.”

  “Is Shayne going with you?” My father spoke up, eyeing all three of us.

  Tyson shook his head. “It’s not a group activity. Jordy’s taking Mani to see a movie, and I’m his ride. If Nandy wants to see a kiddie flick, I don’t mind, but it’s not anything inappropriate, Parker.”

  “Besides,” Shayne cut in, “I’m going over to...Froggie’s to see his pictures from cotillion since I missed out.”

  My parents were confused.

  “Who?” my mother asked.

  “Exactly,” said Shayne.

  I nudged my ignorant best friend.

  “I mean, you know Froggie—tall, skinny, kind of a dweeb, awkward, trips over his own words a lot, sorta—”

  “Kyle Frogge,” I offered for Shayne’s sake.

  “Oh,” said my father. I could tell he wanted to protest, but Shayne had been smart in bringing up how she’d missed cotillion, because my father’s angst dispersed and he softened up. “Well, okay, but no funny business. I mean it.”

  Tyson appeared tired as he looked from me to my father. “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you ready now?” Jordy asked, sounding exasperated. He peered up at Tyson. “Come on, you can help me pick out what to wear.”

  My little brother took Tyson’s hand and tugged him out of the room, leaving their dishes at the table.

  My brother’s anxiousness was amusing. I gathered my plate and theirs and brought them to the sink. It wasn’t a surprise when my father joined me in the kitchen, no doubt to give me another warning about Tyson.

  “Why don’t you invite Chad over tomorrow? I’m sure there are things you two can talk about,” my father said as he began filling the sink with soap and water.

  “Chad and I are done, Dad,” I said.

  My father sighed. “I mean what I say about Trice, Nandy.”

  “If we do see each other, what are you going to do?”

  “We’d have no choice but to put him out.” He said it so coolly, as if it took no thought to go there.

  I hadn’t a reply, at least not one quick enough.

  “Then you’re not the father I know and admire.” I wanted to leave, but he caught my arm.

  I could understand how my parents felt about Tyson and I messing around under their roof, but for my father to threaten to exile Tyson was too far. My parents were who I looked up to; they were loving and giving. No matter what, they’d always opened our home to my friends, which was why it was no big deal that Shayne had come to stay with us, or Tyson. It was who they were, it was in their nature. For them to feel so negative about my feelings for Tyson and his for me painted them in a bad light. It disappointed me more than anything.

  “You ready?” Tyson entered the room and I turned from my father, taking my arm back.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Nandy,” my father called out from behind me. He came forth and handed over some money. “For Jordy. He’s going to want to feed his date.”

  “They’re eleven, it’s not a date,” Tyson spoke up playfully. “They’re just ‘hanging out.’”

  My father smiled. “Uh-huh, sure.”

  He left us alone, and I went with Tyson to meet Jordy at the door. He was growing more impatient by the second.

  “All right, let’s go already,” he said.

  He had changed into a pair of khaki shorts and a navy blue polo top. It was simple and not too much.

  “He had like five options,” Tyson told me as we followed Jordy into the night.

  My brother was adorable.

  Together Tyson and I watched as he walked briskly over to the Gómezes’ house. It was fascinating watching Jordy this way. He, Hector, and Mani hung out nearly every day, and now this was his first crush and his first almost-date. He would be starting middle school in the fall, and those years would fly by so fast that soon he’d be in high school. It was that pivotal time when he would discover himself as well as who and what he liked.

  Studying Tyson as he peered at my brother, I knew deep down what I liked—what I’d always liked.

  Jordy knocked on the Gómezes’ door, and soon Warhol answered, followed by Mani.

  She was wearing a pink tank top and a cute little layered purple skirt. Her hair was curled and held back by a headband with a flower on it. As cute as Mani looked, I just knew Edi had helped her get ready for her night out with Jordy, just as Tyson had helped him.

  “Don’t go running off too fast,” Warhol said to his younger sister. He faced Jordy, sizing him up as if he were a threat. He gestured with his head as he said, “C’mere, Jordy.”

  Nervously, my brother approached Warhol, and then, in a lightning-like movement, Warhol had him up against his house. Jordy’s hands were splayed against the house as he gazed back at Warhol in shock.

  “Spread ’em,” he said as he kicked Jordy’s feet apart. Warhol began patting Jordy down as his sister complained behind him. “¡Cállate, Manuela! He’s not getting out of here without a cavity search.”

  “They’re eleven,” Tyson spoke up beside me. “Trust me, J’s clean.”

  Warhol pulled Jordy from the house. “You can never be too sure.” He pulled out a flashlight and aimed it at Jordy. “State your full name for the record.”

  Jordy looked to Tyson and me for help. “Uh, Jordy Smith.”

  Warhol stepped closer, shining the light right in Jordy’s eyes. “What are you, one of those freaks born without a middle name?”

  “I-it’s Martin,” Jordy said.

  “Uh-huh, likely story.” Warhol whipped out his phone and snapped a photo of Jordy. “My dad’s a cop, and he as well as every other officer on his force will be getting a copy of this.” He pointed to Mani. “That’s my little sister, so there are gonna be some ground rules for you taking her out. One, no R movies. No nudity, either.”

  “Again, they’re like eleven,” Tyson said.

  Warhol flashed his light on Tyson next. “You trying to influence my sister to take her clothes off, Trice?”

  “You’re embarrassing me!” Mani cried out.

  “So?” Warhol shrugged and went back to Jordy. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a funny-looking device. “First, breathe into this. I gotta make sure you’re sober enough to take her out.”

  Tyson reached out and moved Warhol’s arm away from Jordy. “Seriously? A breathalyzer? He’s eleven years old, Warhol.”

  “Hey, my mom let me drink soda at eleven, I know all about the hard stuff.” Warhol eyed Jordy with menace. “I got my eyes on you, kid.”

  Jordy backed away. “Dude, it’s just a movie.”

  “It better be rated G.” Once more Warhol dug into his jeans, this time pulling out a folded piece of paper. “Now, I drew up a seating chart for the film, in case you try to get cute. You do live next door to Travis Catalano.”

  The seating chart had Mani sitting on one end of a row of seats and Jordy far over on the other
end.

  Warhol was insane. He hadn’t even gone this bizarre when Edi first went out on dates, although he did have the football team to back him via threats of bodily harm if Edi ever got her feelings hurt.

  Tyson snatched the seating chart and shook his head. “We got it, can we go now?”

  Warhol held up a finger. “Just one more thing.” He leaned over and whispered something in Jordy’s ear, causing my little brother’s eyes to bug out of his skull.

  He appeared almost ashen as we finally headed for Tyson’s truck.

  “He’s just being a brat,” Mani insisted as she looped her arm through Jordy’s and pulled him close to her.

  As crazy as Warhol was, there was no telling what he’d said to my brother.

  Tyson drove us all to the boardwalk where the local movie theater was located. The marquee over the theater listed what was screening and the ratings.

  “Ooh, Zombie Cadets III is playing!” Jordy exclaimed as he saw the gruesome-looking poster on the side of the theater.

  Mani stuck her head between the front seats and peered at the theater. “No way, I wanna see Animals Loose.” She pointed at the poster with the animated group of animals, something definitely more suited for their age group.

  The two began to bicker, and I undid my seat belt, preparing to get out of the car.

  A hand came down on my thigh, stopping me.

  It was Tyson. “We gotta have a conversation.” He said no more before facing my brother and Mani. “Why don’t you two play Rock, Paper, Scissors for it?”

  The three of them got out of the car, and I watched as Tyson led them to the theater.

  I sat back, then peered in the visor to check my appearance. In the back of my head I could hear Shayne telling me I was overthinking it as I frowned at the state of my bun and plain attire. I was stressing about things being perfect.

  I decided to take a calming breath and let it be, just as Tyson came back to the car.

  “What’s up?” I asked as he closed his door.

  Instead of talking, he leaned over and pressed his lips to mine, kissing me gently.

  His lips brought me to life, and it didn’t take much effort to lean over and meet him halfway, kissing him back.

  Tyson pulled away far too fast as far as I was concerned. “Nothing, we got better things to do than watch Animals Loose.”

  “That’s what they settled on?”

  Tyson made a face. “You Pacific Hills girls always get your way.”

  “Don’t front like we didn’t grow up watching your movies,” I shot back. “You had me watching the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers movie like every weekend, not to mention 3 Ninjas.”

  Tyson chuckled as he started up his car. “And don’t you front like you wasn’t feelin’ it, because you was always down for those movies.”

  “Well, the ’90s did have some classics,” I replied. “I’d rather watch that than some zombie flick. I don’t think I’d survive the zombie apocalypse for all the wrong reasons.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I wouldn’t be able to straighten my hair, or bathe for that matter. Plus, don’t get me wrong, but the main reason I wouldn’t wanna die by a zombie is they’re so damn dirty.”

  Tyson cracked up. It was such a pleasant sight, seeing him unwind like that.

  He held up his phone. “I figured we can ride around listening to this instead.”

  “What?”

  “A little of your music and a little of mine,” he said. “I made a playlist of a lot of that Sara Cara girl you like so much, and some Florence and the Machine, as well as some of my favorite rappers. It’s back-to-back—that way we can take turns listening to our favorite artists and explaining if one of us gets confused.”

  Sara Cara was like my favorite alternative artist. She was so mellow and intense. We needed more black girls like her in alternative music. It meant a lot to me that Tyson took the effort to try her out.

  “You were putting that together the whole time you were in your room?” I couldn’t help but smile at the gesture.

  “Yeah, and I was writing.”

  “I thought something was wrong.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, you seemed kinda distant until you kissed me.”

  Tyson faced me, appearing serious. “You said you loved me.”

  “Oh, well, I do. I always have, since I was younger. Don’t you love me?”

  He seemed wounded suddenly. “Like a friend?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  Tyson shook his head. “I don’t want you saying that again unless you really mean it, okay?”

  I tried to understand what could’ve upset him, but I failed to grasp it. “I did mean it, Tyson.”

  “No, I mean, really mean it, Nandy.”

  I got it then. He didn’t want me to tell him I loved him unless I meant I was in love with him. I didn’t get what the big deal was, because I did love him as a person. The thing he’d done for Jordy was just another reason for that.

  “The last person who said that to me was my mom,” Tyson spoke up. “She’s the only person who would say it. Asiah tried, but she knew it made me feel weird. As fucked up as it may sound, I gave it an honest effort, but couldn’t fully go there with her. The only woman I’ve ever felt that strongly about is my mother, and if I’m going to say those three words, I want it to mean more than just ‘friends.’ I don’t play games, I want it for real. Friends doesn’t do it for me, okay?”

  I bit hard into my lip, trying to contain all that I was feeling. He wanted to love me, like, really love me. Full-blown love, deep love, more than friends love, romantic love. Me.

  I made a mental note to have a little freak-out in my room later, when no one was around. For now I kept calm and played it cool. “Okay.”

  He set up his Bluetooth, and I was rewarded by the sweet sound of Sara Cara.

  “The title of this song reminded me of you,” Tyson explained, as Sara described a poor little rich girl.

  I tried to roll my eyes but ended up smiling. I was a tiny bit difficult, so what.

  Tyson didn’t frown or show any distaste for Sara Cara, and I happily sat listening as it appeared we had a winner for our first song.

  Soon the song was over and a rap song came on, or hip-hop, as Tyson was quick to point out that it was by Nas.

  Nas was rapping and inciting a message. There was one line telling girls that, whether they wanted an athlete or a rapper, whoever they chose, it was essential to make sure he was a thug and intelligent, too. Tyson wasn’t a thug, but he was tough and smart.

  As Tyson continued to drive around, we listened to each other’s taste in music, both soaking in the vast differences. Tyson admitted he admired Sara Cara’s sound and even a little Florence, while I couldn’t help but vibe his favorite rappers, from Nas to J. Cole, and soon Kendrick Lamar. I liked it all. They weren’t like those rappers who talked dirty, reckless and illegal; they were smart, more than just brolic—funny, and deep.

  There was even one song disclaiming Christopher Columbus and his discovery of America.

  “Dude was the first terrorist, he and them pilgrims,” Tyson spoke up. “Yet he gets a day for discovering shit that wasn’t new. Ain’t that America?”

  I could never get bored or tired of hearing him explain his viewpoint.

  I reached out and held Tyson’s free hand as he drove with the other.

  “This is everything,” I told him.

  He looked down at our hands and squeezed gently, smiling over to me. “More.”

  We reached a red light, and soon he was leaning over to kiss me again. We weren’t supposed to see each other, but there was no stopping us. We were inevitable.

  Tyson reeled back and gazed into my eyes. “I think this is going to be my favorite summer yet.”

>   33 | Trice

  On the patio Wednesday afternoon, Shayne sat across from me reading some book. I was reading over my composition book, peering down at it in frustration. I’d filled it to the last page and was debating whether the story was over or not.

  I flipped through the ink-littered pages and wondered how thick it would be if it were a published book.

  Nandy walked out and pushed my book away as she leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Enough already, I’m kidnapping you.”

  “Word?”

  “Uh-huh. No more writing, you’re coming with me.”

  “Where?”

  “Not telling. Just be happy I’m not blindfolding you.”

  “Kinky much?” Shayne teased as she peeked up from her reading.

  Nandy wiggled her eyebrows. She reached out and caressed my chin. “Oh yeah, couldn’t you imagine how cute Tyson would look all tied up?”

  Shayne blushed and laughed with Nandy at the idea of it.

  Even if she was laughing at my expense, I enjoyed the sight of Nandy. After ten years, she had grown and blossomed. From her smile and her figure to her manner, even to her pushy and nurturing side, everything was on point. She was just too damn distracting to be platonic with.

  Writing Tyrin’s story, expressing his feelings and past with Queen, I realized one truth about my connection with Nandy after all these years. It was psychological. I’d always liked her, because I knew that she was the type of girl my mother would’ve liked, had she ever come with Pops and me to Pacific Hills.

  Ten years later, I liked Nandy for more. When I’d gotten pissed and angry in Lindenwood, she hadn’t backed down. She was stubborn, and she’d gotten through. I needed that, someone who wouldn’t enable the hardness, but call me on it.

  This was more than hormones; it was everything.

  Nandy was still giggling with Shayne. “Look, Shay, he’s considering it.”

  I might have liked her, but there was no way in hell I would ever let Nandy tie me up or down.

  I tried to swat her as she headed back into the house to go get ready.

  “So, how was last night with Kyle?” I asked as I turned to Shayne.

  Her forehead adopted a crease. “Who?”