“You grew up in Compton. You avoided the gangs and Big Nasty and Spyder - now you want to tell me that you need your husband’s permission to invite me in your front door?”
Panic filled her as she bounded to her feet, nearly running around the corner to look into the living room. Her eyes slowly went to the front door. Tae-Tay’s hand covered her mouth as she looked through the glass to see him standing there. He pointed at the knob for her to unlock the door.
“Open the door,” he said.
“No,” she responded.
“Open the door, TataLavisha, so you and I can share a nice meal and have a long overdue conversation,” Zephaniah said to her.
“What if I don’t want to hear anything you have to say?”
“Then I get on the plane, head back to Cali, and get my things ready to move to Palm Springs,” he told her.
Palm Springs was where her mother moved to be with her sister Ethel after Tae-Tay relocated to New York. There are no such thing as coincidences. He is moving to the same place my mother is now living. She hung up the phone and opened the door.
“Thank you,” he said calmly. “What’s for lunch?”
Just like that, he walked into the house, sat at the table with Douglas and her, and chatted over chicken salad with white grapes as if it were something he did every day. He even put Douglas down for his nap after the small meal and took Spiderman out for her break. Afterward, he asked for a coffee.
“What time is your flight?”
“Rushing me off so soon?”
“You have to admit it is weird as hell...you look so much like him and all,” she said. “I mean, for a minute, I thought you were him playing a trick on me or something.”
“No,” he said as he opened his wallet and pulled out a worn photo. “This is us as kids.”
He pulled out two more. One of him and teenaged Leviticus, then another of him, her father, and a younger version of her mother. The look on her mother’s face was not one of happiness.
“Did you know we came from a black middle-class family, TaTaLavisha?” Zephaniah started. He spoke of the Watts rebellion in 1965 and how so much had changed for the town. “Our parents were paying taxes, and we couldn’t use the pools or public facilities which brought about so much of the anger from the black youths.”
He spoke softly, “That’s how the gangs started. Other kids who didn’t want us around would come to our neighborhoods to oppress and beat us up. In shop classes, we would make brass knuckles to fight back to protect ourselves, but then things changed,” he said softly. “I got hurt really bad, which changed Leviticus. He formed the Arachnids to protect our neighborhoods and he was powerful. A very powerful man, but then in the 80’s when crack hit Compton, it all started to fall apart.”
A sadness filled his eyes. “It was a low-level guerilla war. We were made into gorillas who fought like wild animals over women, land, power...anything you could compete over, we fought about. Including your mother,” he told her.
“My mom?”
“Yeah, I met her first. I was head over heels in love with that woman, but then Leviticus...,” he said softly.
“You and my mother...I don’t believe it. She would have told me,” Tae-Tay said.
“We couldn’t talk about a lot of stuff and we still don’t because the walls have ears and eyes. I only want to keep you and the boy safe. Thurston’s bid for office will put you in the spotlight. You must be prepared,” Zephaniah told her.
“I don’t know how to prepare to be his wife let alone protect Douglas or myself from a gang of drug dealers and killers. I moved across the country to get away. I thought it would be enough,” she said.
“You have to gain power, TataLavisha. As a Congressman’s wife, Leviticus can’t touch you. You have to make sure Thurston is elected. It is one of the only things that can protect you,” he told her. He looked at his watch. Zephaniah stood slowly, the age in his bones almost cracking as he gathered his belongings.
“Zephaniah,” she said to him. “Are you still in love with my mother?”
He smiled at her.
“Lunch was nice. You are quite the cook. It is one of the things I enjoy doing most. I also like painting, and don’t tell anyone, but I enjoy decorating, too. I think a living space has to be representative of who you are. The walls need color to breathe life into a home,” he said to her.
“Yeah, that’s good to know, but you haven’t answered my question,” she said.
“Listening is one thing, comprehending what you heard is another, Sweet Tay,” he said.
That term. That name. She knew that name. She remembered it from her childhood. The bedtime stories...the attack command for Poodles... she began to have flashes of bits and pieces of her life.
“How?” She asked. “I don’t understand. My mother has never been able to keep a secret about anything...the two of you...?”
“You mother has kept a lifetime of secrets...especially the one about me,” he said. It was awkward but he opened his arms to her. Hesitantly, she walked into them, allowing her arms to encircle his waist. Zephaniah lowered his head, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. The embrace was familiar and comforting, nearly bringing tears to her eyes.
“It was wonderful seeing you again, TataLavisha,” he said. “I will let your mother know you are happy and doing well.”
“Is that why you came?”
“Of course. Cookie sent me to check on her babies to make sure you were safe,” he said as he opened the front door.
“She does know where I am then,” she said.
“Yep,” he said.
“If she knows then so does my father.”
“That is highly probable, but live your life, Sweet Tay. I will keep an eye out,” he said as he stepped through the door.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, not sure what she was thanking the man for since he hadn’t technically done anything.
“Thanks for opening the door,” he said with a tilt of the brim of his baseball cap before he walked down the sidewalk, whistling.
Tae-Tay noticed the way Leviticus walked with his head high, shoulders squared, back straight as a board. Suddenly she felt itchy. It didn’t escape her notice that she walked the same way.
There are no such things as coincidences.
Chapter 10 The Devil You Don’t...
Thursday
A lump sat in Omari’s stomach all day as he physically dreaded going to Chantal’s and Cody’s for dinner. In his head, he knew the conversation was going to be filled with subtle putdowns from her about his profession as a barber. The kid was going to ask a ton of personal questions he didn’t want to answer, and of course, he needed to eat before he left because he also knew in his heart of hearts, she was going to give him something inedible. I don’t know if it is rude of me to send over a list of my dietary needs or not, but I may have to arrive full so I have no room to eat.
Dinner was the least of his concerns. How in the world am I going to approach the subject of taking her son out to the woods for a weekend of camping? She is going to think I am some kind of perv. Then I have to figure out how to take her along as well, which is going to be a total disaster. His forehead was contorted so deeply that he resembled an angry Shar-Pei.
“I can see you got a lot on your mind there, Omari,” Kross Eye said to him.
“I don’t know how your cross-eyed ass can see anything. It’s like your eyes woke up one morning and fixated on the tip of your nose...and stuck there,” Belly Bob said out loud.
“You need to mind your own business, you big bellied bastard!” Kross Eye called back at the man.
“I ain’t no bastard! My parents were married, you one-eyed Willie!” Belly countered.
“Can you two let up for one dang day?” Omari interrupted. Bastard. The kid was a bastard. He was starting to feel the same way about himself.
I’m being selfish.
The cell phone in his pocket chirped. The displayed green message was from Thursto
n.
He texted back.
Suddenly he felt better. The digital watch on his right arm read 6:00. Time was running out and he still needed to shower and change. “Mr. Johnny, I have plans for the evening. Can you close up the shop tonight?”
“Sure thing, Omari,” Mr. Johnny responded.
Dirty Red, who had been quiet most of the afternoon, watched the young man walk over to the elevator. Silently, he followed Omari.
“Pardon me, Boss Man,” Dirty Red said. “Can I have a minute?”
“Sure thing, Red, but I’m in a hurry,” Omari said. Something in the way Dirty Red looked at Omari slowed him down from the rush of getting upstairs. Red was a quiet fellow who minded his own business. The sandy reddish hair stood up on his head like a high top fade from a trendy nineties video. Only his head had a bald spot in the middle of it so the high top looked more like a dirt ball on a hilltop in the middle of the woods. The red bushy eyebrows perched over gentle hazel eyes sat on his forehead like an arch villain’s in the throes of making a dastardly plan to take over the world. In ten years, he had never spoken out of turn nor was out of line with a customer or a co-worker.
“You meeting that boy and his ma tonight?” he inquired.
“Yes,” Omari said cautiously.
“Good! She needs some help with that young man. That boy needs someone to show him right from wrong or he is headed straight down the side street of Wrong Avenue. If anyone can show him the way, it’s you,” Dirty Red said.
“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Omari said in an uncertain tone.
“I think it’s more than that, Boss Man. Did you know there are at least five barber shops on this street alone?”
“Okay, but what does that mean?”
“It means she bypassed all of those shops and came into this one. She was sent to you to help her with that chile,” Dirty Red said.
Omari ran his hand across his bald head.
“Do no harm, Boss Man. Do no harm. If that boy is going to trust in you, he has to put his trust on you...so you can’t butter up to him and he wakes up to find you in bed on top ‘o his Mama. She’s off limits unless you’re thinking about making it serious,” Dirty Red said to him.
“I don’t know that woman!” Omari said again. “I don't know anything about her and I am definitely not trying to get in her bed or on top of her. The kid invited me to dinner, so I am going. That’s it!”
“Yeah, and that’s how it starts - then suddenly you are bed with her one month, then breaking up with her the next month, and the kid is angrier than ever that some other man done let his Mama down,” Dirty Red told him.
“All I want to do, Red, is get through this dinner and get back to my life,” Omari confessed.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Dirty Red said and walked away. “I think you’re kind of stuck with them two.”
He was right. It was far easier said than done. Dressed in a loosely fitted pair of jeans and a button down shirt, he decided against cologne before he made his way via subway to the mid-town high rise. It was a nice building with a doorman who asked one question too many before he was allowed inside the doors. The ride up to the seventh floor only made him more uneasy as he looked at the clear container of flourless brownies he picked up for dessert. Hesitantly, he made his way to the door but quickly turned around to go back to the elevator.
Courage. Courage, Omari.
He walked back to the door of apartment 7F. As he raised his hand to knock on the door, the handle turned, flinging the door open wide with Cody standing in the doorway. A grin so huge covered his face that Omari had to smile back.
“You made it!”
“Yep, I’m here and I brought dessert,” Omari said.
“I just knew you were going to send a text at the last minute and say you couldn’t get here,” he said.
“I think you’ve had enough let downs young man. I’m not going to be one of those people,” Omari said to the boy.
Cody’s eyes were bright. “So we are actually going on the father-son camping trip? You didn’t say that just to shut up Molson?”
“Well...we need to talk about that tonight with your mom,” Omari told him.
The boy lowered his head. “I understand if you can’t go. I mean, I’m not your ‘real’ kid and you did me a solid by even coming to the school. So we cool,” Cody told him.
Chantal heard the voices in the living room. Her stomach had been in knots all day, fretting over the awkwardness of the evening. Her court date had gone as well as she could have hoped. She beat Brett but there was no satisfaction in the win. He felt it as well.
“Chantal,” Brett said. “Is everything okay with you...with the boy?”
“Yes, we are both fine,” she answered hurriedly.
“He is growing fast. How old is he now, 13?” Brett wanted to know.
“Yes,” she told him.
“If you ever want to talk about his future—college, that kind of thing—let me know,” Brett offered.
“Thanks,” she said, gathering her things. She didn’t have any snappy one-liners or piss-filled comebacks for him. An extended conversation with Cody’s father about his future was the furthest thing from her mind. Chantal couldn’t even imagine figuring out where to start that one-sided dialogue. After this dinner, the thought of military schooling the kid popped in her head for the fourth time in one week.
She also didn’t know what to talk about with Omari. He did mention he had traveled extensively, but that would be a one-sided conversation, too, since she’d never left New York. What if he makes a move? I don’t even know if I like him like that. He does have a nice back...and butt. What if he wants to be around Cody just to get to me?
Relax.
Go with the flow of the evening.
No pressure.
Just chill.
She overhead Cody telling Omari that they were cool.
“I hope what we’re having for dinner is cool as well,” she said loudly. “Come on in, Mr. Cromwell.”
“Please, call me Omari,” he said with a genuinely warm smile.
She wiped her hands on the dish towel to tamp down the sweat in her palms. A handshake was offered as he looked about the near bare apartment.
“Did you guys just move in?”
“No, my mom is a minimalist,” Cody answered. “I think that’s just a fancy term for her not wanting to have a lot of junk all over the house.”
“No, I don’t like untidiness nor unnecessary items cluttering up the place. I don’t do messy. A chaotic space is the sign of a cluttered mind,” she said. Her gaze went to Omari. “I am also not a cook, so instead of pretending to prepare you a gourmet meal that I have no idea how to make, we’re going to have what we normally have for dinner,” she said to him.
He eyed the table, which was filled with bowls of fresh fruits and veggies, peeled, sliced, and ready to eat. There was a tray of cold cuts, another container of crudités, and hearty bowls of salads greens with tons of fixings.
“It’s a salad bar,” she told him.
“It works for me,” he said as he took a seat.
“Great. I was concerned you would need a chunk of half raw meat for your complex protein,” Chantal said this with an ounce of sarcasm. He was not going to let it pass.
“And I was concerned I was going to get a leg of half-raw chicken that would give me salmonella poisoning,” he retorted.
For the first time, he saw her smile. It was a nice smile. A warm smile. It lightened the mood. The tension eased as they shared a meal, speaking about nothing in particular and everything in general. The subject of the camping trip eased into the conversation.
“Have you ever been camping, Cody?”
“No,” he said.
“How do you know you will like it?”
“I don’t. I want to go because I wasn’t allowed to before, you know, ‘cause I had no dad or father figure to fill in. It’s kinda like finding out you are allergic to shrimp. It’s n
ot something you want to eat every day, but just because you can’t have any, you want it real bad,” he told Omari.
“I never thought about it that way,” Omari said.
Cody said, “Man, I’m starting to feel like that dude in Forrest Gump, naming all the types of shrimp I wanted to try but can’t eat: coconut shrimp, lemon shrimp, pepper shrimp...”
Chantal, ignoring her son, asked, “I mean if you find that this is too strange or uncomfortable, please, let us know. Cody is not an infant, so he will understand.”
“No, I am not backing out on Cody, nor am I going to let him down, but those kids are going to know instantly if he doesn’t know which twig to pick for kindling,” he said. His eyes went to Cody, “They are also going to notice if you have never put up a tent, or caught a fish, or understand which berries to pick. You can’t fake camping,” Omari said to them.
The more he thought about it, he knew he needed to state the obvious. “You also can’t fake me being your Dad. Chemistry is required even if the relationship is adversarial between us - they will be able to see that as well.”
“I am anxious to hear your recommendation,” Chantal said. She bristled at what she assumed was coming next.
“We have to go camping so I can teach him how it’s done,” Omari said matter of fact.
This was met with happy clapping from Cody but a frown from Chantal.
“I am not going to let my son go spend the night in the woods with some strange man we met three days ago. You must be out of your mind!”
“No, it will be fine because you are coming with us,” Omari said with a grin.
Chantal’s face contorted as if he had walked up a slapped her on the bottom. “You have fallen and hit your damned head,” she said with a great deal of attitude.
“Just like I told Mr. Molson, we are co-parenting by example, Cody’s Mom! And next weekend, we are going to head out for some fishing, swimming at the lake, and a weekend with nature,” he said with a huge smile on his face.
Cody was yammering fifty miles a minute about what he wanted to try. “I can’t wait to catch my first fish. Can we gut it and fry it there on the spot like in the movies?”
Cutting it Close Page 6