grandmother, is she home? I’d like to say hi.” I got up and walked toward the front door.
“Get the fuck away from the door.” She said. “You’re not going in my house. Sit your ass down on the steps and don’t be bothering my grandma.” I shrugged and sat down. Mya could kick my ass and wouldn’t hesitate to do it. I knew her grandmother was some sort of agoraphobic who Mya didn’t want anyone in the neighborhood to see. Not that having every window in the house covered with sheets didn’t give it away. They even had newspaper covering some of the windows. I felt bad for Mya for having to live there. I pulled my cigarettes out and she asked for one. I gave it to her and tried to hand her my lighter, but she wouldn’t take it.
“I can’t use that. It’s a white lighter, that’s bad luck. Don’t you know that? Here gimmie your cigarette and I’ll light mine off your cherry.” She said.
“What the fuck are you talking about? I never heard that.” I handed her my smoke.
“Yeah, white lighters are bad. It’s a well-known fact.” She said.
“Oh yeah? Why is that?”
“They just are.” She said.
“I bet you never walk under a ladder either. You gotta protect yourself from all the bad juju out there, huh?”
“Juju?”
“I don’t know, whatever.” I said. “You’re the one with all the rules. What else is bad luck?”
“Well everyone knows about black cats, breaking mirrors, and Friday the thirteenth, right? You’ve heard of all those haven’t you?” I nodded. “Well there are other ones not too many people know, like looking at the back of a mirror, lighting three cigarettes with one match, or picking up coins off the street…”
“Wait a minute,” I said, “I thought finding a coin on the street was good luck.”
“No wonder your life is a mess. It’s easy to put a curse on a coin and leave it for someone to pick up. If you pick up the coin and put it in your pocket, you’ve accepted the curse. You should be especially careful of coins you find near your home or in places you go all the time, because then someone could’ve left the coin specifically for you.” She said. “Which makes the curse more powerful. And it doesn’t have to be a coin, it could be something else for you to touch or move. It could be a glass of water or a piece of trash or anything really. If you touch it or move it, you’re cursed.”
“What if they leave it somewhere where you have to move it? Like a piece of trash on your front porch or something? I mean what are you gonna do, just let it sit there forever?” I asked.
“Well the good thing is, those curses are easy to break. Curses that are easy to throw are usually easy to break too. If you absolutely have to touch or move some unknown object, you can protect yourself by making a dismissive gesture as you set it down.” She waved her hand like she was shooing away a fly. “It’s especially effective if you actually say the words ‘dismissive gesture’ while you’re doing it. Then you’re safe.”
“So basically, you’re telling me you’re a witch. I leave for awhile, and when I come back, you’ve turned into a witch. Is there anything else I should know?”
“Just keep in mind that the dead walk among us, so you shouldn’t disrespect them. They can influence your life in many ways, good and bad.” She said.
“You’re super creepy today Mya. Have you been listening to Morrisey or something?”
“Laugh if you want to, I’m trying to help you. Anyway, I fuckin’ hate Morrisey.” She said.
“Ahhh, you liar. I remember you used to have all the Smiths’ tapes and you knew all the lyrics. Morrisey was all you and Julie ever talked about.” I said.
She made a sour face. “Shut the fuck up. You used to listened to Michael Jackson.”
“…I just thought it was cool he had a tiger. Come on, are you telling me you didn’t buy a copy of Thriller when it came out?”
“No, never. Even back then I knew it was cheesy as fuck.” She said.
“Well you must have been much cooler than me.”
“I still am.” She took a deep hit off her cigarette.
“So what’s been going on around here since I left?” I asked.
“Like what? What do you want to know?”
“Does anyone want to kill me? I mean, I’ve been out of the loop. Where do I fit into the social hierarchy of Los Robles Avenue?”
“You’re on the bottom as usual,” she said. “Nothing’s changed around here. Nothing ever changes around here.”
“Bullshit. Julie’s got a boyfriend and Pat’s dead. There’s two things right there that’ve changed.” I said.
“Oh, you heard about Pat? Who told you?” She asked.
“There’s a guy who lives near my Gram who knew Pat. -Maurice. They were in the same class in high school and I think they did some shady business together.” I said.
“I heard his mom blamed the whole thing on the cops. She wanted to sue them, but a lawyer told her she didn’t have a case.” She said.
“It’s not the cops fault Pat was a moron.”
“What the fuck did I just tell you about the dead? Pat is definitely the kind of person who’d go out of his way to haunt you, so you better watch it.”
“Fuck that asshole. I’m glad he’s dead.” I said. “Listen, I don’t believe any of that shit. What’s going on in the world of the living? What’s up with Jenny?”
“Who cares?” She sneered. “She’s not even real -she’s just a filler-person.”
“A filler-person?”
“It’s my new theory. I figure about two thirds of the population is just filler. Haven’t you ever noticed that most people aren’t real? They don’t have souls. You can tell they don’t if you really look at them. They’re like shells of people who just take up space. Their numbers are growing, and soon us real people will be extinct.”
“That’s a nice theory. So when I hear that thousands of people are dying of starvation in Ethiopia, I shouldn’t feel bad?” I asked.
“You should only feel bad for a third of them.” She said.
“Wow, maybe you’re right. I’ll watch out for filler-people.” I said. “What’s Jessie doing now that his partner’s gone?”
“It didn’t seem to slow him down much. He’s running around with G’s brother Steven these days.” She said. G was a kid who lived down the street from me who skated and wrote graffiti. He was always with a bunch of younger kids from the other side of Lake. His brother Steven was kind of a local legend. When he was fifteen he punched a cop in the face. The cop was trying to break up a house party and Steven just walked up and clocked him. He broke the cop’s nose and got sent to juvie for it. After that he was in and out of correctional facilities for a long time.
“He’s out of jail?” I asked.
“Yeah. Jeremy told me he went over to Jessie’s to buy some herb and they had a shotgun and a handgun just sitting on the table. His mom had a stroke and she can’t get out of bed, so he’s been turning her house into some kind of a crack-den.
“What about Jeremy and Don? What are they up to?”
“They hang out with Michael all the time now, the three of ‘em skate by here almost every day. They’re fucking ubiquitous. Jeremy got a job at Kinkos, and Don still plays with his band. Michael’s the same as ever. His brother owes me twenty bucks.” She said.
“His brother Jason? Why are you hanging out with Jason?” I asked.
“‘Cause he’s fuckin’ hot, that’s why. It’s not for his brilliant conversation.” She said.
“You’re an easy trick, You fuck Jason and then lend him twenty dollars.” I shook my head. “You’d have to pay me a little more than that, but we could work something out.”
“Who said I fucked him? And anyway your little ass couldn’t satisfy me, I wouldn’t pay you shit. I only fuck black guys. Jason could do whatever he wants to me.” As she spoke there was a moan from inside the house.
“What was that?” I asked. “Does your grandma like black guys too?”
“Oh, just igno
re her. She’ll stop after a while.” The moan started again, this time calling her name with exaggerated emphasis on the last syllable.
“Myaaaah…….Myaaaaaah…..”
“Shut the fuck up!” She yelled, “I’ll be there in a minute!”
“You better go help her before she shits herself.”
“Yeah.” She said, standing up, “It’s like Night of the Living Dead, only I’m in the house with the zombie, trying to get out.”
I went from Mya’s house to the AM/PM, where I spent my last few dollars on a hotdog, an orange drink, and a pack of cigarettes. I sat on the steps of Saint Elizabeth Elementary School and ate. I had some time to kill so went over to the grotto behind the church to see if anyone was around. There was no one there, so I decided to see if my mom was home from work.
It was only five fifteen but my mom’s gray Toyota Corolla was parked in the driveway. I noticed it had a Save The Whales bumper sticker on the back, which was new. It was a small, white, one story house in the middle of a long block shaded by many large trees. The wooden porch was bordered by a row of bushes that blossomed small white flowers at certain times of the year. The lawn was well cared for and the place seemed wholesome and warm. The flowers she’d planted on either side of the front walk completed this effect, and made me feel like an alien as I walked up to the front door. I didn’t belong in a house with these delicate tulips in the front yard. Maurice’s dog was more inviting. I knocked and she peered out the window before opening the door.
“Well, here you are.” She said. “Gram
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