Miracle's Boys

by Jacqueline Woodson

“You feel like you’re nothing, Lafayette?”

  “No. I know I’m something. I’m just saying that not having a mama and a daddy don’t feel like nothing. It’s just the way things are.”

  “And how does that make you feel?” he asked again.

  I stared down at the paper, at me and my brothers’ names. It was a lot of white space where there wasn’t any writing. I had tried to write our names real big, but they still looked small, almost like nothing against all that white.

  “I want my mama back,” I whispered.

  Dr. Vernon patted me on the shoulder and said, “I know you do, Lafayette.”

  We stayed like that a long time—me staring down at the paper, Dr. Vernon softly patting my shoulder. We didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything to say. After a long while had passed, Dr. Vernon said, “You can go now, Lafayette.”

  But I didn’t want to go. I liked the way it felt to have Dr. Vernon patting my shoulder. I liked how deep and soft his voice was. So I came back. Every Wednesday for a whole year. And while Dr. Vernon stood above me or sat beside me, I drew pictures and told him what I remembered and what I wished for. I told him about the hairy hands that came at my throat in the middle of the night, the hands that wanted to choke me for not saving Mama. And how the only way I could keep them away from me was to go into Mama’s room, where she was waiting for me, where she told me to lie down and go to sleep, that everything would be all right soon.

  “What does ‘all right’ mean, Lafayette?” Dr. Vernon asked me one Wednesday. By then Aunt Cecile had long gone back down south, and I took the train by myself. I’d gotten used to the train ride, to Dr. Vernon’s wood-and-window office, to his soft voice telling me all the things I’d done right in my life and how it wasn’t my fault Mama had died.

  I looked down at the picture I’d been drawing. It was a picture of me and Ty‘ree walking together down our block. Ty’ree had his hand around my shoulder and was smiling. I had my hands in my pockets and was looking up at him.

  I held the picture up so Dr. Vernon could get a closer look at it. “This,” I said, feeling a smile coming on.

  “If you’re scared at night—” Dr. Vernon began, but I didn’t let him finish.

  “Then Ty‘ree’s there for me. Ty’ree and Mama.”

  “Where’s your mama, Lafayette?” Dr. Vernon asked softly. His white eyebrows crinkled, and he looked at me like he was searching my face for something.

  “She died,” I whispered. “I know that. But I still feel her.”

  “Where?”

  “Everywhere.”

  I looked at Dr. Vernon. It was almost time to go. He’d told me a while back that this would be my last visit with him, that I’d done all the work I needed to do here. He said I was gonna be okay.

  Dr. Vernon smiled and patted my shoulder. “You can go now, Lafayette. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

  “Yeah,” I said. When I got to the door, I turned to him and waved good-bye, then ran back over and hugged him hard. “Maybe,” I said.

  TWELVE

  IT WAS ONLY A LITTLE BIT AFTER TEN WHEN ME and Ty‘ree got back Friday night. The apartment was dark, which meant Newcharlie hadn’t come home. He didn’t have to be home until eleven thirty on Friday and Saturday, and most times he squeezed in right as the second hand was moving toward eleven forty-five. Ty’ree didn’t fuss with him about that. A long time ago Ty‘ree had said he was going to choose his arguments with Newcharlie or else they’d be fighting every minute of the day. Even though people call him St. Ty’ree, he’s not really. He’s flesh and blood and makes mistakes just like other people. Once I saw him push this man out of his way when he was running for the train. It was like he didn’t even see the man as a human being. And the year before, when his girlfriend dumped him, he was just pure evil to live with for a while. And not telling me till now that he’d been there when my daddy went in that lake. Nah, he wasn’t all good.

  We’d gotten a video, and I put it in the VCR and went to get the rest of my dinner from the refrigerator. Ty‘ree checked the messages. There was one from a girl he kind of liked, so he went into his room and called her back. He dated girls off and on, and some of them were okay and some of them were dumb. I hadn’t met this new one yet. It took Ty’ree a while before he brought a girl he was dating home. He was private that way. Mostly they went out to movies or met on his lunch break. Sometimes he went to their house. Girls acted like he was God or something when they learned he was raising me and Newcharlie. St. Ty’ree.

  “Yo, T!” I yelled. “You gonna watch the movie?”

  I heard Ty’ree telling the girl to hold on. “You go ahead,” he called to me. I heard him close the door to his room.

  I sat there wishing Smitty and PJ were around even if Smitty was nosy. I hadn’t changed like Ty’ree said. I just didn’t want to answer a whole lot of questions. “Mama,” I whispered, “I’m still me. I’m still Lafayette.”

  Me and Mama used to sit watching movies till late. We’d usually get funny ones and sit there cracking up over the stupidest thing. I rubbed my hand over the couch cushion. Mama’d sit right there. And she’d laugh and laugh.

  This movie was about a guy who wakes up one morning and can’t tell any lies. He’d been lying to everyone, including his little son, for a long time. But this one day, every time he opened his mouth, the truth came out and he found himself saying stuff he hadn’t meant to say. It was supposed to be a comedy, but it wasn’t that funny. I ate my chicken and watched the movie, wondering what it would mean if the whole world woke up having to tell the truth. Maybe then I would have known a long time ago about Ty’ree being at that lake with my daddy.

  It was one of those movies you can figure out the end of by the time you get to the middle. I watched it a little more than halfway through, then washed my plate, changed into a T-shirt and shorts, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Ty’ree was still on the phone. It was a little bit after eleven thirty. I fell asleep listening for Newcharlie’s footsteps on the stairs.

  IT WAS THE STUPID DOG THAT KEPT WAKING ME up. First the barking that wasn’t really there. Three times I heard it. And each time I sat straight up in bed. Then nothing. Not even a whimper. But each time I turned over and started falling asleep again, the barking started up. Then, when I was almost asleep, I heard a car screech and slam into something. Something soft and solid.

  “No!” I sat straight up again and blinked. The room was dark. “Uh-uh,” I whispered. It had been a reddish dog, with long hair and dark, sad eyes. It kept trying to bark, but no sound came out. I swallowed. The dog had its head on Newcharlie’s—no, on Charlie’s lap.

  I pulled the covers up over me and lay down again. My eyes felt heavy and dry. But when I closed them, it wasn’t sleep that came to me but Charlie. Charlie with his face raised up toward the sky howling, screaming to nobody, Please, God, don’t let it die.

  THIRTEEN

  “LAFAYETTE.”

  The dog was gone and Charlie was gone and I was at that stream near Aunt Cecile’s house again. It was pretty out, the sun cutting its way around the leaves and dancing up off the water. I had a big trout on the end of my line, and it was fighting hard. Every time it came up, I saw the colors dancing off its scales. It had an angry mouth and devil eyes. But that whole head would be gone soon, and I’d be picking my teeth with its bones.

  “Lafayette, wake up.”

  Then the trout was talking, calling my name and shaking me. Then it was disappearing downstream. Then the stream was gone. But the fish was still calling my name.

  “Lafayette.”

  I opened my eyes to see Ty‘ree standing above me. The room was almost dark. There was just the tiniest bit of light in it, like maybe it was five in the morning or earlier. I rubbed my eyes and tried to turn away from Ty’ree, but he shook me again.

  “They got Charlie,” he whispered.

  “The dog got him?”

  “Lafayette,” Ty‘ree said, his voice just a little bit l
ouder than before. “C’mon and wake up. The police got him. We have to go down to the station.”

  “You go.”

  Ty’ree switched on the light and I jumped up. My head felt like it was gonna fly off from all the brightness.

  “Nah, man,” Ty’ree said. “Brother to brother.”

  I wanted to say, Brother to brother my butt, but I was too tired. Ty’ree handed me my pants and shirt at the same time. He was still wearing the clothes he’d had on the night before.

  “Police got him for what?” I asked, pulling the pants on over my shorts. “The dog?” Things in my head were all fuzzy. Charlie was holding a dog. I was fishing. Had he stolen the dog? Is that why the police had him?

  “What dog?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing,” I said, remembering. “It was a dream, I think. What’d they get him for?”

  “I don’t know. He just called, said I need to go down there.” Ty’ree cursed and went back into his bedroom. I could hear him opening and closing drawers. The hallway light was on, and I saw him walk back past my room on his way to the living room.

  “Hurry up, Laf,” he said.

  When I came into the living room, Ty’ree was pulling his keys off the nail by the door and pulling on his raincoat at the same time. I hadn’t noticed before, but now I saw that the rain was coming down hard and steady. I went back to my room and got my rain slicker. The sleeves were too short, but otherwise it was fine.

  We walked out into the early-morning darkness without saying anything. I wanted to tell Ty’ree that Newcharlie always found a way to mess up, but he had his head down and his hands in his pockets. His face was all bunched up like he was thinking the exact same thing, so I walked beside him and kept my mouth shut.

  FOURTEEN

  I’D NEVER BEEN INSIDE A POLICE STATION BEFORE, and when we got there, I felt like I was gonna be sick. There were fluorescent lights everywhere, but the place still seemed dark, like the inside of a cave. I tried to breathe through my mouth—there was a smell to the place, like something or someone had died inside its walls. Everywhere I looked, there were desks that were so huge and dark, you could barely see the people sitting behind them, and people moving in and out of offices—mostly cops. It felt like a place where it was always gray and rainy. Like it was always Judgment Day.

  A skinny man sitting high up like a judge looked down at me and Ty‘ree and asked if he could help us. Ty’ree told him why we were there, and the man pointed us down a hall.

  Ty‘ree reached to take my hand and I snatched it back. He blinked, like he was realizing I was twelve, not six, and walked ahead of me. Phones were ringing and people were calling out information to each other. A woman at the end of the hall said Newcharlie’s name. Me and Ty’ree walked faster.

  Once I saw a woman faint on the subway, and when I saw Newcharlie, that’s just what I felt like doing. I felt my head get light and my arms go numb. Ty’ree saw him at the same time and broke into a run down the hall. Newcharlie was sitting on a bench curled up into the corner like he wanted to disappear. His lip was busted and one of his eyes was swollen completely shut. His hands were trembling like he was cold. The right one was cut and swollen big as a bear paw.

  That’s my brother, I wanted to shout. What’d y’all do to my brother?

  Instead, I bit my bottom lip and stood back while Ty‘ree went to him. When Ty’ree sat down on the bench next to him, Newcharlie tried to move away, but there wasn’t anyplace to go.

  “Yo,” Ty’‘ree whispered.

  I heard something jangle and looked at Newcharlie’s hands again. He was wearing handcuffs.

  He looked at me out of his one good eye. I looked at him back, and for a long time every sound in the world disappeared. Don’t die on us, Charlie, I wanted to say. I wanted to run to him and throw my arms around his shoulders. But I just stood there, biting my lip and looking into his one good eye. When someone hurts you, Charlie said to me once, you just hold on. Hold on until the pain goes away. We were little then, and a kid from school had punched me in the eye for accidentally stepping on his toe. I hadn’t learned how to fight and didn’t want to anyway, so I waited in the school yard until Charlie came out. He’d been playing basketball with some other guys in the gym, so when he finally came out of the school building, the school yard was empty and my eye had swollen shut. The pain always goes away, Laf. You just hold on, you hear me? He put his arm around me and we walked on home. And slowly the pain went away.

  Ty‘ree touched the swollen eye and Newcharlie jerked back and frowned. Then Ty’ree touched his lip, real gentle, and Newcharlie let him.

  “It’s okay,” Ty’ree whispered.

  You just hold on, Charlie. The pain always goes away.

  Ty‘ree kept telling Newcharlie it was gonna be okay. It felt like the moment had frozen, like we were all stuck that way—me standing a little bit away from them, Ty’ree looking like he wanted to hug Newcharlie but was scared to and Newcharlie doing everything he could not to cry.

  “I ain’t do nothing, T,” Newcharlie whispered, his words coming out slow and muffled because of his lip. “I swear I didn’t. I didn’t know nothing about it. I swear I didn’t steal that car.”

  “What car?” Ty’ree asked. “What happened, Charlie?”

  I took a step closer to hear him better, and just as I did, a policeman came over to us.

  “He yours?” he asked Ty’ree. He was a tall black guy with glasses. The pin above his badge said “Joseph.” I looked from his pin to his face.

  “My brother,” Ty‘ree said, standing up. “I’m the legal guardian. Ty’ree Bailey.” He took some papers from his pocket and handed them to the cop. The papers were from the state, saying that Ty’ree had custody of me and Newcharlie. I’d seen them a couple of times before.

  The cop read them slowly, nodding as he did. “He was in a stolen car,” he said, not looking up from the papers. “Him and another guy. Mr. Bailey here wasn’t driving.” He looked at Ty’ree and frowned. “They got the guy who was driving in a holding pen back there. Broke his parole. So did your brother.”

  I swallowed and looked down at my sneakers, trying not to think about Newcharlie going to jail and me going to Aunt Cecile’s.

  “He said he ain’t know about the car,” I whispered.

  Ty’ree and Officer Joseph looked at me.

  “My brother say he ain’t—he didn’t steal the car,” I said.

  “No, he didn’t.” Officer Joseph handed the papers back to Ty’ree. “He got banged up pretty bad though. I’ll let him tell you about that.”

  Newcharlie was crying softly in the corner.

  “Is that what happened to his face?” Ty’ree asked. The muscles in his jaw were moving back and forth the way they did when he was trying to hold his temper.

  Officer Joseph sighed and shook his head. He took a key ring from his pocket and walked over to Newcharlie, undid the handcuffs, and clipped them to his holster.

  “He’ll tell you what happened,” he said, looking at Newcharlie. “Mr. Bailey knows the rules. He knows he breaks his parole, he goes to jail. He knows you go to an initiation, you’re going to have to fight.” He shook his head and turned back to Ty’ree. “Last thing I want to do is send another young brother to jail. I’m going to let you take him home this time, but I don’t want to see him in my precinct again. Not unless he’s working here.”

  Ty’ree nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I whispered.

  Newcharlie put his head down and walked out the door without saying anything.

  “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?” TY’REE ASKED when we were a block from the precinct, his questions coming fast. “What’s that officer talking about? Why you gotta mess up, Charlie?” He pushed Charlie. “You always the one gotta mess up. Me and Lafayette—”

  “Stop it, Ty’ree,” I said. “Stop it!”

  Ty’ree clenched his hands.

  “I’m always the one,” Newcharlie said. “The bad one
. The loser. That’s me. The one who always messes up. Ain’t it always been that way?”

  “Yes,” Ty’ree said. The muscles in his jaw were working fast. “It’s always been that way.”

  “I ain’t never gonna be anything,” Newcharlie said. “So why even try?”

  I swallowed, and Ty’ree looked down at his hands. We walked a long way in silence, Newcharlie walking a little bit ahead of us with his head still down.

  “You don’t always mess up, Cha,” I said.

  “Yes I do. And you’re the angel. The innocent one. The one everybody gotta look out for. I ain’t nothing. Nobody.”

  It was daylight out now. The sky was pretty—gray blue from the rain. Newcharlie wasn’t wearing a raincoat. Ty’ree had tried to give him his, but Newcharlie wouldn’t take it. His clothes were dripping wet. Maybe he wanted to die of hypothermia.

  “Why you have to do this, huh, Charlie?” Ty’ree said. “Why you gotta do this to us?”

  “I ain’t do anything, T.”

  Ty’ree’s jaw was working fast. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Don’t hit him, I kept thinking. Don’t.

  I’d seen Ty‘ree lose it and hit Newcharlie once. That night the cops came to our place. Just as they were taking Charlie away, Ty’ree jumped off the couch and punched him in the back. Then both of them started bawling.

  “I ain’t steal that car, Ty’ree,” Newcharlie said.

  Maybe Ty’ree couldn’t see it but I could. There was something real sad about Newcharlie right then. It was that same look he’d had that day the vet told him that dog had died. The same look he had the day we buried Mama. He looked ... broken.

  “You ain’t a nobody, Cha,” I said, but I don’t think either of them heard me.

  Ty’ree cursed again. He was madder than I’d seen him in a long time. “What the hell were you doing in it? And what were you doing fighting in the street?” He took a quick step and grabbed Newcharlie by the shoulder and swung him around. Newcharlie tried to frown, but his lips were trembling. “You don’t give a damn about anybody but yourself, do you? You mess up, Lafayette goes to Cecile and you go to jail. Is that what you want, man?”