by Ni-Ni Simone
I looked down at my faded black jeans and oversized white tee. “I can’t wear this nowhere. I look stupid.”
“You can wear it to the mall.”
“To the mall for what?”
“So we can get us some clothes.”
“And how we gon’ do that?”
18
The bridge is over
“Word is bond,” Yvette squealed, as we walked swiftly outta the mall and rushed to the nearest bus stop. “Everything we got is fresh to def,” she whispered as we slung two overflowing duffel bags across our shoulders.
Truthfully, I was a little paranoid. ’Cause I’d never done anything like this before. I mean, robbing a drug dealer was one thing, but runnin’ up in the mall and boostin’ was low budget and honestly, not even worth bail money.
But I was willing to roll with it, ’cause we ain’t have no clothes and no other way of gettin’ some. So, we hustled our way through Lerner’s and helped ourselves to summer wardrobes.
The bus pulled up and we stepped on, hurrying to the back. We stuffed our bags under our seat and sat down.
“We gon’ be stupid fresh.” Yvette giggled.
“Yup.” I grinned. “And you know it. And the next time we come back we could steal enough to sell to our crew.”
“True. ’Cause I know Munch gon’ be sweatin’ these pink leather shorts.”
“Sell ’em to her. Make some money and then come back and getchu some more.”
“Not. I’m rockin’ these. Psst. Please.”
“Look, like Face always said, ‘The only thing that ain’t gotta price is loyalty.’ Which means that er’thing else gotta tag, including them pink leather shorts.”
“Face didn’t know everything. ’Cause if he did he wouldn’t be locked up right now.”
Did she just chop me in the throat? Breathe. “Yvette, why would you say somethin’ ill like that?” I looked toward the front of the bus and watched the driver help an old lady to her seat.
“What’s ill about it?”
“The way you said it. You ain’t say all that when you used to be sweatin’ him. For all I know, Face might be Kamari’s daddy. ’Cause truth be told she looks like Queenie to me.”
“You waaaay outta pocket. I know who my baby father is. And I wasn’t never sweatin’ Face.”
“You lyin’? We was even planning a double wedding before.”
“Not true.”
“Yes, it is. And anyway, if it’s not true, then what you mad for?”
“I ain’t mad.” She shrugged. “Who said I was mad? I’m just sayin’ that I wasn’t sweatin’ him. I mean, maybe you was sweatin’ K-Rock, but I ain’t see Face like that.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Excuse me. You two.”
Me and Yvette looked up and there was a uniformed officer staring down at us.
I sucked in a breath and hoped he couldn’t hear my heart skipping beats. I looked down at the duffel bags we had poking from under the seat. Then I looked over at Yvette and she’d turned to stone.
“Get up!” the cop snapped and gripped me by my forearm, pinching his fingertips into my skin.
“Get offa me!” I screamed.
“You two are under arrest!” he said, as another officer reached for Yvette.
“For what?!” I snapped.
“For shoplifting.”
“I ain’t steal nothing!” I tried to snatch away but couldn’t.
An officer handcuffed me and yanked me off of the bus and his partner dragged a handcuffed Yvette behind me.
The whole bus was buzzin’. Some kids was laughin’ and others was in awe. Old ladies was shakin’ they heads, complaining about how this didn’t make any sense and we should be ashamed of ourselves. And everybody else was just watchin’ and lookin’ at us like this was an episode of Miami Vice unfolding right in front of them.
I couldn’t believe this was really happening. The whole bus was filled with police. You woulda thought we was some real thieves. By the time the officers escorted us back into the mall and tossed us into the security room, Yvette had completely fallen apart. I was doing my best to hold it down for the both of us. All I kept praying is that this fool remembered not to talk. ’Cause as far as I was concerned, I didn’t know whose stuff this was.
The security room was filled with television monitors that zoomed in on just about every angle in every store. There was a double mirror that showed the front door. There was also a table that held all of the stuff we’d stolen and two chairs, which we were handcuffed to.
“So you like to steal,” an officer said to us. His eyes going from me to Yvette and back again. “A buncha thieves!”
“I need to call my grandmother,” I spat.
The officer snorted. “We don’t have to let you make a call. We could send you straight to juvie and call child welfare.”
“Whatever.”
“Oh, you’re a little smart aleck, huh?”
I didn’t even respond to that. “You arresting us or what?” I snapped. “Otherwise I need to call my grandmother to come and get me.”
The door opened and the manager from the store we licked off stepped into the room. “Yes! These two! That’s them, right there!” She shook her head. “I can’t believe this! They are no older than my daughter and are out here stealing! You need to be worried about school! Not ripping people off! I feel sorry for your parents!”
“Trick,” I spat. “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me! I got this. Who you should feel sorry for is your mother ’cause she gave birth to a beast.”
“Ma’am,” an officer interrupted, “I’d like to step into another room to discuss the charges with you.”
“I need to call my grandmother!” I yelled.
One of the officers frowned as he spat. “What’s the number?”
“555-1212,” I said. The officer dialed the number and held the phone to my ear.
Nana picked up on the first ring. “Praise the Lord. God is good.”
“Nana, it’s Isis.”
“What is it?” I could hear her taking a pull of her cigarette.
“Me and Yvette need your help.”
“My help?” She blew out the smoke.
“They got us up here in Livingston Mall. Claiming we were stealing, when we were not. They got stuff up here on the table and I don’t know who this mess belongs to. And I don’t know where they got the idea that it belongs to us.”
Nana snorted. “I don’t think that’s a bad idea, actually. ’Cause you two didn’t have no money to even cross the street, but you up there at the mall. And you at the mall the same day that Bill said fifty dollars was missing from his wallet. I think I’m beginning to put two and two together.”
“Nana—”
“And Yvette left this dang-gon’ baby here and ain’t said nothin’ to nobody. Just walked out the door? I gotta good mind to leave both y’all lil thievin’ asses right where you at and call the state for this lil brat. I don’t want no kids. I done raised mine. And I’m not gon’ raise no baby. And you two lil thievin’ whores. Didn’t I tell you I didn’t like thieves? I just told you this.”
“I’m not no thief!”
“Shut up! ’Cause you ain’t nothing. And you ain’t gon’ never be nothin’ ’cause yo’ mama’s a slut monkey and daddy is some garbage. Betchu can’t call him to come for you. ’Cause he’s just like his daddy. Garbage.”
“You comin’ or what?”
“I got a good mind to leave you there, let ’em take you to jail, and have the dykes make men outta you.”
“Nana—”
“Don’t Nana me. My name is Darleen. Now mark this, if I decide to ask Bill to bring me up there to get you two, this will be the last time I come and get you. So if your stealing behinds get the urge to go five-finger discount shopping again, don’t even dial my number. Lose it.”
Click.
The officer hung up the phone and shook his head.
Two hours passed and I started to think m
aybe Nana wasn’t coming. I knew for sure we were about to be carted out of here and taken downtown. I could tell by how bad Yvette was crying that she was thinking the same thing.
But then: “Jesus is the truth and the light.” There was Nana standing there. I’d never been so happy to see her.
“Nana!” I said, and me and Yvette smiled.
“Yes, ma’am,” Nana said to the female officer standing next to her. “That’s them.” She held a sleeping Kamari on her shoulder. “And I’m so, so sorry.” She looked at the store manager. “Apologize.” She looked over at us, arching a brow. “Now.”
I started to say, “For what?” But changed my mind. “We’re sorry.”
“And that you are,” Nana said. She turned to the store manager. “I know that their fate lies in your hands and I’m not here to persuade you of anything. I just want you to know that they were not raised to be thieves. But when your mothers are junkie whores and you don’t know your fathers, there’s only so much a grandmother can do.”
The store manager grabbed Nana’s hand. “I’m sure you are doing the best you can.”
“I am.” Nana sniffed. “I am. And they are good girls. They are.”
“They don’t need to be stealing.”
“You’re right. They don’t. And if there’s any way I can pay you back for the stuff they took, then please tell me what I owe you. I’m on a fixed income, but praise God, anything is possible.”
The manager shook her head. “I should really, really press charges on you girls. Your grandmother is doing the best she can and this is the thanks she gets. Ma’am.” She turned to Nana. “Looks like I have back everything they took. So I’m willing to forget this whole incident, as long as I don’t see their faces in my store again.”
“Hallelujah!” Nana waved her hand to Jesus. She looked at us and said, “Say thank you!”
“Thank you,” we mumbled. The officers uncuffed us and Nana handed Kamari to Yvette.
“Truly appreciate this ma’am,” Nana said. “And don’t worry, you won’t have to see their faces again.”
I fought with everything in me not to cuss the whole room out, and especially Nana ’cause this chick was off the meat rack. But since I didn’t wanna push my luck, I stayed quiet.
Mr. Bill was asleep by the time we made it to the car. But he hopped up when we got in and slammed the door.
“Everything all right?” He snorted, wiping the cold from his eyes.
“Yeah, it’s cool,” Nana said, turning around toward the back seat. “These two lil bird-brain bimbos wanna steal their way through life, moving around here like thieves in the night. Now I got to tie down and lock up everything I own, ’cause now that Stick has been tossed out into the street, she’s been replaced by two more thieves. Goons. Now I don’t know where you gon’ get the money from and I don’t care. All I know is that you better get it from somewhere ’cause Bill need his gas back and I need some money for misconvenience.”
“It’s inconvenience,” I mumbled, looking out the window and sinking down into my seat.
I swear this was not my life.
My life had my fly daddy, dressed in his smooth and loud-color suits. Queenie sittin’ in the kitchen baggin’ up pounds of weed. Face plottin’ and schemin’. Schooly dreamin’. Yvette gigglin’. Break dancin’. And B-boys. And hip-hop. And stupid-fresh kicks. And a dope radio blastin’ my mix-tapes in the window.
I needed somebody—somewhere—to tell me what happened to my yesterday. Why did Queenie just jet and leave me here? Was my posters still in my room? Was my weed still tucked away in my nightstand drawer? Was mothersuckers down at the playground still scared of me? Was I still thorough? Down by law?
Or was I this weak and pathetic nothin’ stuck here, with a beautiful life that had withered to dog shit.
19
Jungle love
Three years later: 1989
“Baby Girl! Look atchu! All grown up and lookin’ just like yo’ mama! And you finally made it to see yo’ daddy.”
I couldn’t believe he said that.
I blinked. Then looked away.
I couldn’t look at him.
I just couldn’t.
So, I looked around Ms. Brenda’s apartment, my eyes skipping from the torn plastic that covered the floral living room set, to the moving boxes stacked along the walls, to Yvette—who stood next to me.
I pulled in and pushed out a deep breath, then looked back over to Daddy. He was dressed in a worn pair of blue jeans, an oversized plaid shirt, and construction boots, and he held a half-empty Olde English forty in his hand.
Most of me was happy to see him and the rest of me was scared that he wouldn’t remember who I was.
Although he still lived in Da Bricks, I hadn’t really seen him in the last three years. But since today was my sixteenth birthday I decided to do something different and knock on Ms. Brenda’s door.
“Who’s that, Daddy?” A little girl stood in front of Daddy and leaned against his legs.
“That’s your sister Isis.” He sipped his beer. “She just stopped by for a moment to say hello.”
I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut and I didn’t know whether it was this lil girl calling my daddy, Daddy, or him limiting the time I wanted to spend with him to a moment.
The little girl continued, “Oh.” She smiled. “My name is Jacinda. You goin’ wit’ us? ’Cause we movin’ to Baltimore.”
Before I could answer or even wrap my mind around what Jacinda had just said to me, Daddy shook his head and said, “No, baby. Isis is a big girl now. She’s not going to live with us. Just me, you, Mommy, and your other sisters and brothers.”
“Okay.” The little girl hunched her shoulders, gave me a small wave, and ran off.
And that’s when it hit me. . . . He’d lied to me.
He lied.
Set me up.
Made me believe I was a princess.
When I wasn’t.
Made me believe he would always be here for me.
When he wasn’t.
I felt like I could barely stand up and if I didn’t sit down, I was gon’ fall. So I flopped down on the plastic-covered sofa, next to the door.
Daddy grinned. “Talk to me. Tell me how’s er’body at the house? How’s your grandmother?”
Fat. Always mad. Hates everybody, except her boyfriend. “She’s fine. Likes to keep the house clean.” I swallowed and wiped the tears I felt crawling to the corners of my eyes. I even tossed in a small smile.
“That’s mama.” He looked over at Yvette. “And how you been?”
“Okay.” Yvette sucked her teeth, draping an arm over my shoulders.
“Isis,” Daddy said. “How’s Chuck, and what’s going on with Stick?”
Chuck’s on the run. Streets said he killed a dude. I hate Stick. She has stole, sold, and smoked up er’thing I had. And I didn’t have nothin’ to begin with. “They fine.”
“How’s Face?”
“In prison.”
Daddy shook his head.
Tears eased out the corners of my eyes. I sniffed and quickly wiped them away.
Daddy paused and took in my tears. “Smile, baby girl, your daddy’s okay.”
Your daddy’s okay? Did he just say . . . your daddy’s okay?
He really thought my tears was about him? I promise you, I wanted to punch him in his face.
Was he trippin’?
Crazy?
He had to be.
’Cause ain’t no way he was serious.
I did all I could to fight it, but I couldn’t hold it in any more. Bump this. “First of all, I’m not cryin’ over you!”
“Then tell me what’s wrong.”
“Er’thing is wrong! What part you got messed up? You so busy askin’ about er’body else that you ain’t asked about me yet? You wanna know how I’m doin’?!” I pounded the arm of the couch, wishing it was his face. “Huh? What about me? Don’t you wanna know how I’m doin’?” Before he could an
swer, I blew up the spot. “Yo’ fat mama don’t give a right tittie-freak about me. Just don’t mess wit Jesus, her money, her man, or her cigarettes and she’ll let you live in peace. But that’s all she gon’ do!” Hot tears continued to pour down my face but I flung them away.
“Queenie? Don’t nobody know where she’s at. You over here playin’ a ghetto Mike Brady and you think, you really, really think, my tears is about whether you okay or not? I just turned sixteen today, don’t you think I need somebody to take care of me!”
“I did the best I could—”
“You ain’t do nothing!”
“Your mother put me out!”
“She should’ve put you out!” I hopped up from my seat. “I hate I even came here. Forget you! I don’t need you! I’m good and I can take care of myself.”
“You outta order, baby girl!”
“I’m not outta order! You outta order! You and Queenie. Got me out here by myself. Livin’ wit’ people who don’t like me. Keep stealin’ from me! Did you even realize that today is my birthday?! Do you understand I don’t have nothin’?! Face locked up. At least he got three hots and a cot. But me? Zero. Zilch. Nada. Nothin’. Not even you!” I kicked a stack of his boxes and they tumbled down and scattered across the floor.
A pregnant Ms. Brenda stormed from the back of the apartment and into the living room. She looked over at Daddy. “Zeke, if she don’t quiet down and sit down you gon’ have to get her up and out of here!”
“Forget you!” I snapped. “This is between me and my father. You need to mind your business!”
“This is my business.”
“You don’t have no business between them!” Yvette snapped. “So take yo’ fat self back where you came from and go have a seat.”
“Zeke!” Ms. Brenda spat. “You gon’ let them talk to me like that? They gotta go! Right now!”
I could tell that Daddy felt bad. But so what? I’m glad he felt like that ’cause he needed to feel what I’d been feeling for the last three years. Like nothing.
“Don’t even sweat it, Daddy. I understand perfectly.” I looked over at Yvette. “You ready?”
“Yup.”
“Let’s go.” We stormed out and as the door slammed behind us, I heard Ms. Brenda tell Daddy that we better not ever come back.