Today, Old Lady Wilson fell
and the ambulance came,
but don’t worry, Charlie—
she’s okay, she didn’t break anything,
just bruised her hip,
so my dad said Harriet
could stay with us tonight,
but when I brought her home
she was acting despondent,
as in glum and unhappy,
probably because
she misses Old Lady Wilson
or she misses home
or she misses you.
I miss you too, Charlie Bell.
Write me back.
goodbye
CJ
PS. In 1941, a Great Dane named Juliana saved a whole family. A bomb fell on their house and she peed on it (the bomb), which of course diffused it. She got a Blue Cross Medal for that. Random, I know, but interesting fact, right?
PPS. Did you know that PS means “postscript, ” as in an afterthought, as in you still have some more things to say after you finish writing. Pretty cool, right?! Have a great Fourth of July, Charlie Bell!
I read
and reread
her letter,
then fall asleep
with it
next to my pillow
and my endless smile.
Practice
I shoot
free throws,
dribble
with Roxie
at the Club,
and then
when we get home
we go to the park
to practice
some more.
I pretend
I’m Curly,
crossing the ball
from one hand
over to the other
and back again
like fifty times.
You get a good
crossover, Charlie,
and you’ll catch
your opponent
off-balance.
Like this, Roxie, I say,
boasting
and crossing
her up,
but not fast enough,
’cause she steals
the ball
like a thief.
No, like this, she says,
crossing me so fast
I almost sprain
my ankle
trying to
get the ball back.
More Practice
We play
till the moon floats
across the sky
way past
the time
the streetlights
illuminate
the court
till my legs
are anchors
in a sea of tired
but we stay long
after playground swings
stop swinging
and the crickets
stop singing
and even then
I wanna play some more.
Pickup Game
At the Club, it’s no pinball for me.
No comic books for me. I don’t
even care who has the high
score on Pac-Man today.
Today, I hit the
hardwood. Play a
pickup game.
Ballin’.
SWISH!
I don’t score
a lot of points
but I do cross
this one dude
over like a bridge
and I do jump
so high
to get a ball
my fingers
touch the net
and I do
catch a pass
with one hand
from Wink
and I do alley-oop Roxie
who skyrockets
to the net
with a lay-up
and we do
win.
Guess Who
Good game, champ.
Yo, what’s up, Skinny!
YO YO YO!
You watched?
Dang, Charlie. I didn’t know you got game.
I taught him everything he knows, Roxie interrupts, coming up from behind. Hi, I’m Roxie, Charlie’s favorite cousin. Who might you be? I’ve never seen you around here before.
I’m Charlie’s homeboy. Skinny’s the name, and hoops is my game, but love is my claim to fame.
Can you play? Roxie asks him.
Does the sun shine?
Well, today it doesn’t, ’cause it’s raining, so I guess not, she says, rolling her eyes.
Your cousin’s a PYT, Skinny says.
A what? Roxie snaps, with a frown.
A pretty young thing, Skinny says, laughing and trying to high-five me, but I leave him hanging.
I know what it is, silly, but it’s rude.
I was just—
Yeah, just save it. Charlie, please teach your homeboy how to talk to girls, she says, whipping her braids, walking away.
I think she likes me. A lot.
Doubt that.
You like my kicks?
YEAH! When did you get them?
Yesterday. No more K-mart specials for me, Charlie, he says, laughing, showing off his white-on-white stunners. You need a pair of Jordans too.
I don’t have a hundred dollars.
You’re a champ, Charlie—don’t look like a chump. Get some real sneaks. My cousin got these for me. For cheap.
Your cousin? No, thanks. Ivan’s gotten me into enough trouble already, Skinny.
It’s not Ivan. It’s my other cousin.
Who?
Randy. He works at Foot Locker in DC.
Oh.
Whatchu doing on the Fourth of July?
Family reunion party. You want to come? I could ask my mom and grandma.
Nah, but you should come hang. I’ll introduce you to Randy. If your mom and Grandma will let you, I mean.
It’s not like I’m locked up or anything.
Then come to Skate Castle with me. That’s where he works.
I thought you said he worked at Foot Locker.
He works both places.
Where’s the Skate Castle?
It’s not too far. It’s somewhere in DC. There’s a party there on the Fourth. We can go.
What kind of party?
Summer Skate Jam. Six o’clock.
. . .
So, you coming?
Maybe.
C’mon, Charlie, we can ask Randy to hook you up with some Jordans. Plus, it’s the last time I’ll see you all summer. Let’s get our independence. Get it?
Yeah, I get it. Maybe.
Okay, bet.
I’ll see ya later, Skinny.
Envy
As he walks away
in his slick, sleek
white sneakers with
elephant print trim
and an air cushion
on the heels
(to help you jump higher)
it’s like
he’s floating
on air
or walking
on water
and if I had
a pair
I could probably
up my game
and do all kinds
of tricks
like Magic
and soar
like Bird.
If only.
When I get home
The man
in the cowboy hat
is walking up the driveway.
Hey, sonny, is Iron Man home?
Who?
Your Granddaddy.
Whatchu doing, Smitty? my grandfather says, coming from around the back of the house with a hammer.
What are you trying to build now, Percy?
Always the same thing. Building a better world, Smitty.
True.
Alice wants a shed for something or another. I’m not even sure.
How come your grandson’s not helping you?
It’s a good que
stion, Smitty. These young folks don’t work like we used to.
Back in the olden days, I say, when rainbows were black and white.
Percy, your grandson’s trying to joke us.
Nice to see you, sir. Granddaddy, I’ll be back, I say, rushing away before he does ask me to help him with the shed.
Conversation at Roxie’s Front Door
I can’t play right now, Chuck.
Why?
I’m going to the movies.
Oh.
I’d invite you to come, but it’s just girls.
. . .
Here’s my ball. You can take it to the court and practice.
Thanks.
Work on your crossover and your lay-ups, Charlie. We got a big game on Friday, and we can’t afford for you to mess up.
A big game? What do you mean?
You saw the poster for the three-on-three Hoop Stars game on Friday, right?
Yeah, the Boys and Girls Club is playing the YMCA.
Exactly, and they’re our rivals. They beat us last year, and they never stopped bragging. How do I know this? Because I go to the same school as two of their players, and they literally bragged about it every day at lunch, and it was unbearable, Chuck. I tell ya, unbearable. So, you gotta be ready.
Be ready for what?
Be ready to play!
I’m playing?
You’re exhausting.
But what about Grover?
His mom doesn’t want him to get hurt again, so she said he can’t play.
Oh.
So, it’s me, you, and Wink.
Oh.
Now go practice. I gotta get dressed and put on my makeup.
Wait, you wear makeup?
Bye, Charlie Bell.
Bye.
Solo
Nobody’s on the court
but me,
so I play against
myself,
missing jump shots,
grabbing rebounds,
making lay-ups,
ballin’ like a champ.
The two old men
are still sitting
on the porch
when I return
a few hours later,
their faces lit
by the fading sun,
sleeping, snoring, and
I don’t want
to wake them,
so I tiptoe
up the stairs
when outta nowhere
Mr. Smitty screams
FREEZE! and points
an imaginary gun
at me
and I almost jump
outta my own skin
and then they both
sit up
and start laughing
like madmen.
You got him, Smitty, my grandfather says. Sorry, Chuck—Smitty had too many hours fighting crime today.
You can’t out-joke a joker, Smitty screams, slapping his knee and laughing so hard he almost falls out of the chair.
Say good night to your grandfather and Mr. Smith, Grandma says, holding open the front door.
I do, then
follow her
in the door
to sanity.
Come sit down in the kitchen. I want to show you something, she says.
She pulls out
a scrapbook
of family pictures
of people
who look familiar
but I have no memory
of.
Percival Bell, Age 22
This is your grandfather
when I first met him.
He was sharp
as a tack, cool
as a summer breeze,
serious as thunder
in his light blue polo
and matching pants,
with black belt
and air force boots.
I was at the train station
with my parents
waiting for
my grandparents
to arrive
when he got off the train
and this girl
I knew from school
come running up to him,
kissing on him
so fast,
she almost knocked
me over.
I saw him
staring at me
and I turned away quick
’cause I didn’t want
him to know
I’d been staring too.
But he knew.
I think he knew,
’cause he found out
where I went to church,
which was pretty easy
’cause it was only two churches:
the Baptist
and the Methodist.
He showed up
that Sunday, tried
to talk with me, and
I ignored him.
’Cause he had a girlfriend.
Yes, because he had a girlfriend!
Tell ’im what happened next, Alice. Tell ’im, Granddaddy says, walking in the front door.
They were always fussing and—
She fussed a lot. Get it straight, Alice.
And the next thing I know, they broke up—
Who is the other guy in the picture, Grandma? In the uniform, walking behind Granddaddy.
Jordan Bell, Age 23
Your grandfather’s brother
was a jokester,
liked to laugh a lot
and yap a lot,
especially on
the football field,
and to the girls
at church.
Your grandfather
was sweet
as apples, straight
as the pleats
on his pants,
like a gentleman should be.
But your Uncle Jordan,
he was a bona-fide mess,
always the loud one,
the life of the party.
They were both
on leave
for three weeks, and
by the time
they left
Jordan Bell knew
everybody’s name
and they all knew his,
God rest his soul.
The girl
that was kissing
on Percy
at the train station—her name
was Ruth—never
spoke
to either of us
again.
And, I fell
I fell so deep
in love
with him,
it’s like I was drowning
in pure joy.
Now, that’s deep, Charlie, she says, laughing
and turning the page.
Joshua Bell, Age 37
That’s your father
playing catch with you
in the front yard.
He was handsome
as a Hollywood actor,
just like you.
You want a son like him, Charlie,
that’s what you want.
Just a joy to—
Now, why are you lying to that boy, Alice? Granddaddy interrupts. Tell him the truth.
Family History
Don’t say that, Percy. Josh was a good boy.
He was a cut-up, a knucklehead going nowhere fast. No plan, no purpose. If it weren’t for the air force, he would’ve been in a world of trouble.
I seem to remember you were a bit of a cut-up back in the day too, Percy.
We’re not talking about me right now, Alice.
Charlie, your father was a good man, just took him a little longer to find his way. That war straightened him out, though.
He told me he didn’t like it.
He may not have liked it, but it made a man out of him.
That war didn’t make him who he was, Charlie. Your momma did that.
I agree with that, too, Alice.
Josh didn’t stand a chance when he met her.
She just looked at him and he melted like butter. Heck, me too.
They were so cute.
Yeah, real cute, Alice. Now how about we stop all the reminiscing.
We can all use some good remembering from time to time, right, Percy?
I guess you right, Alice. I guess you right, Granddaddy says, kissing her on the cheek, then rubbing my bushy head. But after we get finished with the memories, Chuck’s got to get to work.
Work?
The grass.
But, Granddaddy, it’s almost too dark to see—
Well, you better get to cutting, before you can’t see.
Phone Message
Hey, Mom,
it’s me, Charlie.
I just cut
the grass
at night.
I can’t wait to see you
at the cookout
on Saturday,
and can you bring
my skates, please,
and some
of our records,
’cause Granddaddy plays
jazz nonstop
in the house
in the car
and it’s annoying
and I can’t get this one song
out of my head
and I want some
new sneakers,
Air Jordans,
PLEAAAASSSSEEE!
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