Bones had come lumbering to the back and Ivy turned to him, still holding the sleeping infant in his arms. “This bitch says this baby is mine.”
“Hey now,” Bones said. “Ain’t no need to call this young lady anything other than a young lady.”
“I’m sorry, Bones,” Ivy said. “But I just can’t believe this shit.”
Bones turned to Tammy and said, “Honey, would you mind going on across to Brandts and getting yourself a coffee or something? We need to talk.” Bones reached into his wallet and gave Tammy some money.
At this point, both Brendon and Octavian had made their way to the back of the store and were peering over Ivy’s shoulder, trying to get a look at the baby and at Tammy.
Tammy nodded gratefully and moved to take the baby from Ivy.
Bones stopped her. “You can leave that baby girl right where she is,” he said. “We’ll look after her for you. I bet you could use a break now, couldn’t you?”
Tammy nodded and slipped quickly out of the store.
“Tave,” Bones said, “Go on up there and lock the front door.”
Ivy looked down at the little child in his arms, who had an upturned nose and light brown hair, and burst into tears.
“Jesus Christ,” he said. “Jesus Christ, Bones, what the fuck?”
Bones took off his baseball hat and smoothed down his hair before he looked at Ivy very seriously. “Could that be your baby, Ivy?”
Ivy choked on a sob and said, “I guess so. I mean, like I said, I did sleep with her, but only once.”
“It don’t take more than once,” Bones said.
Brendon, who now stood between Mina and Octavian, licked his lips and looked thoroughly confused. “I thought you didn’t like white girls, Ivy.”
Ivy laughed a little through his tears. “I guess sometimes I do.”
“Well, you better get good at liking them,” Brendon said. “Looks like you about to start raising one.”
Carefully, Brendon took the baby from Ivy’s arms and held her close. His eyes behind his glasses filled with tears.
“You suck, Ivy,” he said. “Now I gotta go and be this little girl’s uncle. Gotta make sure she’s not afraid of black men, gotta keep her off the damn stripper pole.”
Tammy knocked on the front door and Bones let her in. She walked to the back of the store and her big saucer eyes got bigger when she saw Brendon holding the baby.
“You afraid of black men, Tammy?” Brendon said.
Tammy shook her head but took two steps backward anyway.
“Brendon,” Octavian said.
“What?”
“Give Ivy back his baby.”
Brendon placed the child against Ivy’s thin chest.
Bones said, “Tammy, can you tell her daddy what he’s supposed to call his baby girl?”
Tammy smiled. “Sunshine, her name is Sunshine.”
“Of course it is,” Bones said. “Makes all the sense in the world.”
The image of Ivy holding his daughter followed Octavian home from work. Ivy would probably never leave St. Louis now that he had a child, he thought. Octavian wondered if Ivy would wind up like Fat Andy or Steven Jones—guys who’d once wanted to leave St. Louis and never did. Now they hung around high school parties and tried to disguise their thinning hair, and how, even though they were only twenty-five, their waists already pressed hard against their jeans.
Octavian opened the door and saw a large envelope, with the Cooper Union logo on the return address, sitting on the floor by the mail slot. He stared at it. He knew rejection letters came in small, thin envelopes, containing only the boilerplate reasons you weren’t wanted. Mina had received one from every school in New York she’d applied to except Barnard. Octavian, on the other hand, had been accepted at Howard, Morehouse, the Art Institute of Chicago, and Parsons in New York. Octavian left the envelope unopened on the kitchen table and went to his room.
Francis was still away. After doing a month in rehab, he had gone to a sober halfway house in St. Charles and they’d only talked on the phone. Octavian hadn’t told him about being accepted to schools. Any time he thought about going, he would feel his long-dormant heart start to flip-flop. And after the last acceptance letter came in, he told Cyrus that he planned to defer. Cyrus agreed, on the condition that if Octavian got into Cooper Union, he would go. Octavian had shook on it, convinced he’d never get accepted. Even though the letter sat in the other room, Octavian could still feel the weight of it. He tried not to think about it and pulled out his new Bob Marley box set.
Cyrus called to Octavian the moment he walked into the kitchen. Octavian went slowly from his bedroom. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from his father. Maybe resignation that now Octavian would have to leave, or an attempt at feigned uncertainty that maybe Octavian didn’t get in. But Cyrus did neither. He immediately sent Octavian for Jackson’s letter opener and poured them both a glass of scotch.
“You don’t have to make a ceremony out of it, Pop,” Octavian said.
“Why not?”
Octavian caught a little of his father’s excitement and said, “Go on then. Open the dang thing.”
Cyrus drew the letter opener across the seal and carefully removed the contents. He adjusted his glasses and picked up the housing brochure that fell. “Your mother,” Cyrus said and stopped to swallow. “This is what she wanted.”
Octavian nodded. The tears in his father’s eyes threw the moment into fast relief.
“You know this is the most prestigious art school in the country? And between their scholarship plan and my professorship benefit, we won’t have to pay anything. Which means no loans, no debt.”
“I understand that.”
“And you won’t defer?”
“That’s what I said.”
“So you’ll go?”
“Do you want me to? I mean, do you think it’d be a good idea?”
Cyrus removed his glasses and wiped his damp eyes with a handkerchief. “Of course it’s a good idea. What are you going to do instead?” He laughed. “Stay here? With me and Francis? No.” He shook his head with utter seriousness. “No way. Not after you’ve achieved this. I won’t let you.”
“Okay, Pop, damn.” Octavian took the papers and tried to fit them back into the envelope. “I thought this was supposed to be a happy occasion.”
“It is, boy,” he said. “It sure enough is.” Cyrus raised his glass. “Congratulations. You have done your mother and me proud.”
“To Mama,” Octavian said, and raised his glass.
“To you,” Cyrus said.
TRACK 12
How I Could
Just Kill A Man
MINA EYED THE CLOCK at the far end of Rahsaan’s. She replayed the conversation she and Octavian had earlier, when he said that he’d come by. She tried to remember whether he’d said he might come by or definitely would come by. She wasn’t supposed to work that night, but Brendon hadn’t shown up for his shift and no one had heard from him. She had been busy when Octavian called her back and he sounded mad because she’d paged him twice and then couldn’t talk.
“What’s up with your boy? Thought he was coming through,” Ivy said.
Mina shrugged. “I guess something came up,” she said. “You think Brendon’s okay?”
“Yeah,” Ivy said. “He probably got hung up over at his mom’s house and forgot to call.”
Clarissa walked toward the front of the store and, as she got closer, Mina saw Ivy’s eyes lock on her. Clarissa saw it too, and she laughed. Not her big loud-girl laugh, but a softer, easier one. Mina was about to say something, but the front door swung open and Brendon stormed in. He was covered in sweat and his shirt was torn. His glasses sat crooked on his face and he had scratches on his forearms.
“Brendon, are you okay?” Mina asked, coming out from behind the counter.
He didn’t answer her but kept walking to the back of the store.
Clarissa looked at Fred, who locked the front door. They went to the back, followed by Ivy. Brendon was in the employee bathroom washing his arms.
“B,” Clarissa said, “what happened?”
Brendon looked at her through his broken glasses and said, “I got fucking jumped.”
“Who jumped you?” said Fred.
“The cops,” Brendon said.
“What do you mean the cops jumped you?” Mina said.
Brendon looked at her out of the corner of his eyes and said, “I thought you listened to enough hip-hop to know the cops are the biggest gang out here.”
Mina looked down at the floor. She didn’t know what to say.
Freddy put a hand on Brendon’s shoulder and said, “What happened, Brendon?”
“I was on my way here and these two City cops, they decided I fit the description of some guy who robbed Church’s fucking Fried Chicken last night. They threw me up against the wall and broke my glasses, dropped my ass on the ground and cuffed me. Then they put me in the back of the cop car, where I’ve been for the last two fucking hours.”
“Jesus,” Mina said.
“That is messed the fuck up,” said Ivy.
“Did they take you in?” asked Fred.
“Nah, they didn’t take me in. Want to know why? Because after they got me in the car, they checked the description I supposedly fit and that kid was one hundred and fifty pounds. One hundred and fifty fucking pounds. I weigh at least two bucks thirty. And you know what those motherfuckers did for the next two hours while I sat in the car with my hands cuffed behind my back? They argued about whether or not they could make it stick. Finally, they realized that it wasn’t possible, even though, believe me, they wanted it to be, and they let me go.”
“And that was it?” said Clarissa.
“That was it. They uncuffed me and told me to get going before they found something they could charge me with.”
“Wow,” Mina said.
“Wow,” Brendon mocked her. He shook his head.
Mina took a step back. Recently, Brendon had been cold to her and she didn’t know why. They used to be friends. When they worked together, they drove everyone crazy playing Odetta, Joan Armatrading and Phoebe Snow. One day Brendon had even shown up and given Mina a copy of The Ravishing of Lol Stein by Maguerite Duras. But for a while now, Mina had felt like Brendon didn’t even want to acknowledge that she existed.
“They messed with the wrong brother, though,” Brendon said. “I tell you that.”
“What are you going to do?” Clarissa asked.
“I’ma call a lawyer, that’s what I’m going to do.”
“My mother is a lawyer,” Mina said, stepping closer again. “Do you want me to call her? I bet she wouldn’t even charge you. She hates the cops.”
Brendon looked at Mina, then looked away. “I’ll get my own lawyer, thanks.”
“Okay,” Mina said. “I was just trying to help.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Brendon. “I know about you out here trying to help us poor black folks, but I don’t need your help.”
Mina closed her mouth and turned. She walked back into the empty store. Her face was hot and tears burned her eyes. She hated herself for not knowing what to say. She hated that she sounded like a white girl. “Maybe that’s because that’s who you are,” she mumbled, her voice tight in her throat.
Clarissa came out and Mina wiped her eyes and tried to look like she was busy closing out the register.
“Ivy’s driving Brendon home,” Clarissa said. “Can you give me a ride to Soulard? I’m staying over at my dad’s tonight.”
“Sure,” Mina said. Octavian still hadn’t come and he hadn’t called either. He wasn’t going to show up now.
Highway 40 was nearly empty as they drove downtown. Something about the way it wove through the city, under overpasses where the world got dark, and up alongside old worn-down factories, where the streetlights shone as bright as daylight, always made Mina feel better.
Clarissa fumbled with the pile of tapes in the back. “This is mine,” she said pressing a tape into Mina’s player. She turned up the tinny speakers and they both sang along with Diana Ross’s honeying promise that someday, we’ll be together.
Soulard was dark at night. Especially down by Clarissa’s dad’s, where no one really lived. In the daytime, the neighborhood was loud with semi-trucks and strong, cursing men loading and unloading warehouses. At nighttime though, those old buildings filled with shadows and ghostly sounds that moved through empty rooms and out of broken windows.
Mina pulled in front of Douglas’s house and Clarissa looked up at the one pale light coming from the hallway on the top floor.
“You don’t have to go right home, do you?” Clarissa said. “I’m not trying to go in there yet.”
Mina shook her head. She knew Clarissa didn’t like being in Douglas’s apartment by herself. She worried that someone would come try to rob the place and no one would be around to hear her if she screamed. Mina lit a cigarette and rolled down the window. The thick, sour smell of the brewery filled the car.
“It’s funny,” Mina said. “I can’t stand that smell at first and then after a few minutes, I don’t even notice it anymore.”
Clarissa lay her seat back and wrinkled her nose. “I hate it,” she said. “Smells like feet.” She dug in the tapes again and pulled out Cypress Hill.
“What’s up with you and Ivy?” Mina said. “I saw how he was looking at you tonight.”
Clarissa put the tape on and smiled. “You have to admit. He’s type cute.”
“I guess,” Mina said. “For a white boy.”
Clarissa turned to face Mina. “Did you really just say ‘for a white boy?’ Since when do you say shit like that?”
Mina shrugged. “I’ve never known you to look twice, no matter how cute a white boy is.”
“I haven’t. But now I am.” Clarissa took the cigarette from Mina and took a drag. “Maybe you and Tave are inspiring me to, I don’t know, give someone different a chance.” She exhaled a long stream of smoke and then pouted a little. “And we have fun,” she said. “He cracks me up.”
Mina clenched her jaw at the mention of Octavian. She remembered now. He definitely said he would show. But he hadn’t. “Why do you say that me and Tave are inspiring you to look for someone different? I’ve never been with a white boy.”
“I know, but have you seen the light-skinned fat booties Tave has dated? I mean, I know there haven’t been many, but you certainly are different for him.”
Mina thought about Keisha Putnam and wished she could light another cigarette without Clarissa telling her that she smoked too much.
“I’m serious. Y’all have made me think differently,” Clarissa said. “What if Ivy is the love of my life and I wasn’t even trying to look at him because he’s white?”
“The love of your life? I don’t think so. Plus you know he’s got a kid now.”
“Do you think Tave’s the love of your life?”
“That’s not the point,” Mina said.
“You do, don’t you? See?”
“Yeah, but like you said, I’m probably not the love of his.”
Clarissa reached over and rubbed Mina’s knee. “I never said that, Min. I said you were a different choice. And he certainly didn’t stay with those other girls that long. So maybe you are, who knows?”
“I know I’m not,” Mina said. “I’m not black.”
“Yeah, well, there is that,” said Clarissa.
Mina lit another cigarette, but Clarissa didn’t say anything.
B-Real and Sen Dog rapped about putting a hole in someone’s head and Mina listened to the bass line sample of Jimmy McGriff’s “The Bird” that had been playing in Octavian’s loft the last time they were there. Mina wondered if she’d ever hear a single song again without thinking about Octavian.
Clarissa looked back up at the empty night sky around her father�
�s apartment and said, “Interracial relationships are hard, though. I’ve watched my dad try that shit a few times and it never works out. Not because the women aren’t nice or pretty or anything. It just seems like there’s a whole lot of stuff they don’t understand, or my dad doesn’t understand, or something.”
“Do you think I understand?”
Clarissa smiled at her. “It’s not that you don’t want to,” she said. “But there’s shit you can’t understand. I know you don’t want to think it’s true, but you’re not black.”
“I know I’m not black,” Mina said.
“Do you?” Clarissa laughed.
“Yes,” Mina said, but she didn’t laugh.
“Don’t get me wrong, you’re crazy down, Mina, but you’ll never know what the world looks like through eyes that aren’t white, just like I won’t know what the world looks like through eyes that aren’t black. And I know you don’t want to think it’s that different, but it is.”
Mina’s stomach tightened and she nodded.
Clarissa pulled her seat back up and snapped down the visor to look in the mirror. She had recently dyed the ends of her curls blonde, and they hung around her face, brought out her round eyes with the thick lashes.
Mina watched as Clarissa twisted a curl around one of her long fingers. She pulled down her own visor and quickly shut it. She closed her eyes and imagined a life without having to wonder if things with Octavian would be different if her hair curled instead of fell hard and straight.
“I guess I do forget,” Mina said, “Most of the time, I just think things would be so much easier if I wasn’t white.”
“The only reason you say that is because you are white,” Clarissa said, and Mina could tell she was pissed. She’d said the wrong thing again.
“You know that shit that happened to Brendon tonight?” Clarissa said. “That will never happen to you. It could happen to me, but it will never happen to you. And offering your mother’s help, as nice as that is, doesn’t change anything.” Clarissa closed her visor and turned to Mina. “Listen,” she said, “the world looks at you, says white, says girl, and then it moves on. But the world looks at me, my mother, my brothers, Octavian, Brendon—even Evan—says black and then adds a whole bunch of shit on at the end. About our morals, our motives. It hates us, wonders whether it’s safe around us. And if you act like that’s not real, if you act like that’s ever an easier way to live, then you are full of shit and nowhere near as down as you think you are.”
There You Are Page 20