by Amir Abrams
“Honey, I have to. Only for a while.” I remember now... noddin’ my head, ’n’ her leanin’ in ’n’ kissin’ me on the forehead. “Mommy’s gonna come back for you.”
“You promise?”
“I promise. Now promise me you’ll be a good boy for Mommy. You’ll do good in school and make Mommy real proud, promise?”
“I promise, Mommy.”
She kissed me, again. Waited for me to fall asleep. And then . . . she was gone
I swallow back a ball of emotions. “So all this time you effen had me thinkin’ she didn’t want me, yo? You had me thinkin’ she didn’t love me! Pops, do you know what that did to me, yo?” I shake my head. “I can’t believe this. You did this to me, yo. Effed my head all up. Got me thinkin’ I gotta dog girls out. You brainwashed me. Why, huh?”
“I’m sorry, son.”
I frown. “ ‘I’m sorry’? Is that all you gotta say?”
He tells me he doesn’t know what else to say. Word? He tells me he didn’t wanna see me hurt. Really?
“And you didn’t think tellin’ me that crap ’bout her not wantin’ me was gonna hurt, huh? You made her out to be the bad guy. Made you look like you were there to save the day. That was real foul, for real for real. You’re all I’ve ever had in my life, Pops. And I’ve always looked up to you, yo. But this...” I shake my head. “This is some straight-up bullshit, yo. E’erything I’ve believed has been ’cause it’s what you believed, yo. And you wanna know why I believed it? ’Cause I believed in you! I trusted you!
“And now look at me. All screwed up ’cause of you! All that crap ’bout women bein’ no good, all that did was make me be no good. Like you, Pops!” I say all’a this to my pops and he stands there ’n’ lets me get it off. He ain’t tryna flex on me, ain’t tryna shut it down. He lets me get it out, prolly ’cause he feels guilty. I don’t know. All I know, he really effed me up wit’ this.
“I thought I was protectin’ you,” he says.
I stare at him. I can feel the muscles in my jaw tight-enin’. “Nah, you thought you was protectin’ ya’self. I trusted you.” I shake my head. “I don’t even know what to think anymore. If I can’t trust you, then who can I trust?”
“Listen, Tone. I know I screwed up. I didn’t wanna hurt you. But I was hurtin’. When ya moms tol’ me she didn’t love me anymore, that she was in love wit’ someone else, that tore me up. I lied to you because I wanted you to hate her as much as I hated myself for losin’ her. I knew it was wrong, but once I said it, I didn’t know how to undo it. A few months after ya moms left, I tried lookin’ for her, but she was gone. Her sister, ya aunt Christina, wouldn’t give me her contact info. The last I heard she was somewhere on the West Coast. Hol’ on a sec. . . .” Pops walks outta my room.
My aunt Christina? I try to remember who she is, try to picture her face. But it’s all a blank. I don’t remember anything ’bout her. All I know—from what Pops tells me—is that she’s my moms’ only sister. She was the only livin’ link to my moms—since my moms’ parents died when I was mad young—and Pops took that away from me. All ’cause he didn’t want me to have any kinda relationship wit’ my moms ’cause he couldn’t have one wit’ her. I can feel my heart poundin’ through my chest. She’s a piece of a puzzle that opens up more questions for me. Questions that I am hopin’ she’ll be able to one day answer.
Pops comes back into the room, carryin’ a shoebox. “I’ve been holdin’ on to this,” he says, handin’ it to me. “I know it can’t undo what I’ve done, but maybe it’ll help.”
I look at Pops, mad nervous—my hands all shaky ’n’ ish. I open the box ’n’ inside there’s a buncha pics of me ’n’ Pops ’n’ my . . . moms. There’s one wit’ her holdin’ me in her arms when I was mad little. There’s another of her breast-feedin’ me. Another wit’ her ’n’ Pops. He has his hand on her stomach. Her stomach’s mad big like she’s ready to pop. Seein’ these pictures of my moms, I don’t know. I feel all kinda choked up. “I miss her, yo,” I say real low, lettin’ a tear slide down my face.
“I miss her, too,” Pops says, soundin’ all sad. “I still love her. I shoulda never let her get away from me. I shoulda been a better husband to her. I pushed her into another man’s arms, son.” He shakes his head. “I haven’t been able to forgive myself for that. I know I’ve disappointed you, Antonio. There’s a card on the bottom off all those pictures. On the back of it, there’s an address for ya aunt Chrissy in the Bronx. It’s over ten years old, but maybe . . .” He wipes his eyes. Oh, damn. Pops got tears in his eyes. “Aaah, damn.” Turns from me for a few secs, turns back, then continues, “Maybe she’s still there or someone else in the family is. Maybe they can help you get in contact wit’ ya moms. . . . It’s time.”
I sift through all the photos ’til I locate the card he’s talkin’ ’bout. It’s a postcard of Las Vegas. On the back is an address in the Bronx.
“I’m sorry, son. I know that won’t be enough for me to right the wrong, but hopefully it’s a start. Hopefully, you won’t hate me as much for lyin’ to you all these years.”
I swallow back the lump I feel formin’ in my throat, starin’ at my moms’ face in one’a the pictures. Her brown skin, big brown eyes, her thick hair pulled back, her wide smile. She was beautiful. I hold my head down for a minute, shut my eyes real tight ’n’ try to keep from breakin’ down. All’a this is too much for me. Losin’ Miesha, but gainin’ memories of my moms.
I look up at Pops. “I’m pissed at you. But I don’t hate you, Pops. I could never hate you. I just don’t wanna be another you.”
“Then don’t be. Ya moms was one’a the good girls, son. She was a good woman who got caught up wit’ a man who turned her heart cold. I pushed her away with my running the streets and chasing other women. I don’t want you to be me. It’s not too late for you to be a better man than I could ever be. Listen to ya heart, son. If you love that girl, then fight for her. Go get her.”
Wipin’ my nose wit’ the palm of my hand, I nod. “Her name’s Miesha.”
“Then go get Miesha.”
40
Miesha
“Miesha,” my mom says, walkin’ into my room without knocking. Ever since our last big blow-up she’s been tryna be extra nice to me. But I’m not buying it. The guilt of her saying what she said to me is eating her up. Good. “There’s someone standing outside to see you.”
I’ve been in my room the whole weekend, OD’ing on reality TV. And I stayed up all last night watching the first two seasons of Dexter on Netflix. He’s one sick, twisted character, but I’m hooked. Now today, all I wanna do is watch the rest of Project Runway, then curl up under the covers and sleep the rest of the day away. I just wanna go to sleep and not wake up again until my eighteenth birthday when I can get outta Jersey City and as far away from McPherson High as I possibly can. I don’t wanna have any reminders of Antonio Lopez or his drama. And to think I was ready to give him another chance after I had that little chat in the girls’ bathroom with Quanda. Oh my god, I woulda looked like such a fool going back to him, then finding out that some chick was having his baby. Thank goodness for gossiping-azz chicks like Fiona. Otherwise, I woulda been looking like Boo-Boo the damn Fool.
I roll my eyes, clicking the remote. “Whoever it is, tell them to go away. I’m not interested.”
“You don’t even know who it is.”
I shoot her a look. “And I don’t wanna know. Now can you leave my room? And shut the door behind you. Please and thank you.” I go back to clicking the remote.
She walks all the way into my room, yanks the remote outta my hand, then shuts off the TV. “What the—”
“Listen here, Miesha. You can be mad at me all you want. And all that attitude is fine and good. But you sitting around here moping is not gonna change the fact that you miss him, okay?”
I blink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There is no him, okay?”
“Oh yes, there is a him. And he’s standing outside, looking all
lost and pitiful, wanting to talk to you. He’s the reason you’ve been coming straight home from school, and locking yourself away in this room. Look at you. You’re not even eating.”
I sigh. “I haven’t been hungry, okay? And I just don’t feel like being bothered with anyone. So, please, can you drop it?”
She narrows her eyes. “Don’t give me that. And no, I won’t drop it. That boy came over here three, maybe four, times last week. And all you did was scream at him, then slam the door in his face. Well, what do you think screaming accomplished? Did it make you feel better? Did it solve whatever problems the two of you are having, huh?”
“We don’t have any problems. He does. And no, screaming at him didn’t solve anything. There’s nothing to solve. He’s a cheater. And I’m not beat.”
“And you know this to be fact, how? Has he cheated on you?”
I huff, folding my arms. “Well, no. Not exactly—not that I know. But a buncha chicks stay sweating him, and I know it’s only a matter of time before he cheats, so I’m not gonna sit around investing a buncha time and energy into a boy who I know is only gonna dog me out in the end.”
“So you’re not even willing to give this young man the benefit of the doubt?”
“It doesn’t matter ’cause I’m not messing with him. Not after finding out that he has some girl pregnant. I don’t do baby daddies and I’m not about to play stepmommy to some other girl’s baby. Oh, no. I’m not that chick.”
She shakes her head. “I think you should talk to him before you start jumping to conclusions. Hear him out, first.”
I frown. “And what’s it to you? Why do you care whether or not I talk to him? You don’t even know who he is.”
“I know he’s that same young man who picked you up and took you out on a date. I saw how excited you were. I saw it in your eyes. And besides, your father told me he’d spoken to you about him.”
What a big mouth!
“And I also know he’s the same young man who you were staying out past curfew with on more than one occasion. He made you smile, Miesha. You think I didn’t notice? You’re my daughter. I know when you’re hurting or sad. And I know when you like someone. But this time, it’s more than like. You’ve never moped around before, looking all miserable, over a boy. . . .”
“Exactly,” I say, eyeing her. “I dismiss ’em, then boom . . . on to the next! I’m not you. I don’t sit around crying over no boy. And I’m not about to spend my life running behind some boy who wants to be all up in a buncha other girls’ faces. All that sleeping around with a buncha different girls . . . mmmph, no thank you. He’s too much like Daddy, and I don’t wanna end up like you.”
She blinks. Pulls in her bottom lip. Then takes a deep breath. “Don’t compare what I’ve gone through with your father to what you may or may not end up going through. I made choices. And so did your father. I chose to run behind him because he’s who I chose to be with. But you don’t have to make that choice unless you want to. If you don’t wanna end up like me, then don’t. But don’t throw away what could possibly be a good relationship with a good guy who maybe has had some troubles trusting. At least talk to him.”
“I have nothing to say to him.”
She shakes her head. “Girl, you are about as stubborn and bullheaded as your father.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you taking him back?”
“Don’t try and change the subject, Miesha. This isn’t about me and your father. This is about you.”
“And that is about me, too. So are you going back to Daddy, again?”
She sighs. “Miesha, I don’t know what I’m doing. I love your father, period. But, I no longer love him enough to settle. I’m not willing to share him with other women, not this time. So if I decide to go back to him, again, it will be on my terms. Not his. But for right now, your father and I are talking. We are communicating. I am listening to him. Something he says I never did. Something you need to learn to do. Listen. Stop flying off the handle. You go from zero to one hundred for no rhyme or reason, like I do. If you don’t wanna be like me, then don’t be like me. Listen. Go out there and hear what that young man has to say. And then decide what’s gonna work for you. You owe yourself, and him, at least that. Now take a few minutes to get yourself together. Then go out there and look that boy in the eyes and listen to him. I’ll tell him you’ll be out in a minute.” She walks toward the door, looks over at me, then shakes her head. “Stop being so stubborn.” She shuts the door behind her, leaving me feeling more confused than ever.
41
Antonio
I’ve been outside pacin’ back ’n’ forth, waitin’, tryna play out in my head what I wanna say. But e’erything in my head is all jumbled up. I’m still tryna sort through the bomb Pops dropped on me yesterday. After he left my room, I spent the rest of the night lookin’ at all’a those pictures Pops had stuffed in that shoebox. There were eighty-seven flicks all together of my mom, of me, of Pops, of all three of us together, of me ’n’ my moms, and of me ’n’ Pops. Flicks of my first six birthdays wit’ birthday hats on ’n’ cakes wit’ candles on ’em. And in e’ery flick, I was all smiles, lookin’ mad happy. The happiest I had ever been ’til Miesha came into my life.
I’m all effed up inside, yo. This girl got me feelin’ ish I didn’t know I could feel. She got me thinkin’ ish I never thought I’d be thinkin’ ’n’ now I’m standin’ here ’bout to say some ish I never thought I’d say.
My heart leaps in my chest the minute she comes to the door. She opens it, and steps out on the porch. All I keep thinkin’ ’bout as she’s ice-grillin’ me is how beautiful ’n’ sexy she is. How badly I wanna reach out ’n’ touch her, pull her into my arms ’n’ never let her go.
“How can I help you?”
I walk up the stairs, but she puts a hand up to stop me.
“No, don’t come up here. Now, what do you want?”
“I just wanna talk,” I say, tryna keep calm. But inside, I’m mad nervous. And now I wish I woulda smoked before comin’ over here.
“I want you to stay away from me, Antonio,” she says, slammin’ a hand against her curvy hip. I try not to remember how my hands felt up on her hips. I don’t wanna let my thoughts take me there. But, the way them yellow sweats are huggin’ her hips isn’t makin’ it easy not to go there.
“I can’t, yo.”
“I’m not playing with you, Antonio. I mean it. I’m done with you.”
I know she’s pissed, but I’m not ’bout to throw in the towel wit’ out goin’ down wit’ a bang. “I miss you.”
Her eyes narrow to slits. “Well that’s too bad ’cause I don’t miss you. As a matter of fact, the sight of you is making me sick.”
“You don’t mean that, yo. That’s anger talkin’, yo. C’mon, you can’t give me another chance?” I’m tryin’ like hell to keep from scoopin’ her up in my arms ’n’ kissin’ her. Even though her face is lookin’ extra tight, frownin’ at me, she looks mad sexy standin’ here wit’ her arms folded.
“Nope,” she says. “I’m not in the habit of giving out second chances. You had your first and only chance. And you blew it, boy. I don’t do playboys. Been there, done that. Now bounce. We ain’t got nothing else to say to each other. When you see me in the halls, just keep it moving. Don’t look my way ’cause I’m definitely not gonna be looking yours.”
I can tell she’s hurt. And I feel really bad. Real talk. She goes to walk back into the crib ’n’ shut the door in my face. “Yo, Miesha, wait! Please!” Yes, I’m goin’ out like a sucker, beggin’—again.
“Beat it!” She goes to shut the door, but I call out to her, again. “What?” she snaps, her ’tude still on ten. She folds her arms. “Well . . .”
“Listen. I, uh...I know you think I ain’t shit. And I’ma keep it a hunnid. I haven’t always been, yo. I’ve smashed mad girls. And all it was was a buncha empty sex, yo. I’ve dogged mad girls ’cause they’d let me. And I’ve gassed a buncha broads’ heads up, te
llin’ ’em all what they wanna hear. But I ain’t never front on you, yo. From the rip, I’ve kept it straight-laced wit’ you. I dig you, Miesha. Real ish, yo. I’ve never felt ’bout any other female the way I feel ’bout you. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t even think straight wit’ out seein’ you. I miss you, Miesha. I put that on e’ery-thing. I’m all effed up, yo. I’m empty.”
She narrows her eyes. “Then why the heck did you let her in your house with only your boxers on?”
“I thought it was you. When I heard the doorbell ring, I just opened the door. If I woulda knew it was her, I woulda never opened it, yo.”
“Yeah right, but you still let her in, after you knew it was her.”
“She begged me to let her talk, like I’m doin’. I’m beggin’ you, yo. Just give me another chance.”
“Well, maybe you wasn’t tryna get with her. And maybe you are telling the truth about that. But I’m still not beat for you, boy. So don’t come over here anymore. I’m not ever gonna be some silly chick who puts up with her man cheating and lying to her. And I’m definitely not about to do no boy with babies. Oh, no, boo-boo. I ain’t signing up for that.”
I blink. How’d she find out ’bout that?
“Yeah, that’s right, baby. You didn’t think I would find out, huh? Well, yeah. I heard all about the baby you got on the way with the little church mouse. I asked you when we were out having dinner if you had kids and you told me no.”
“I don’t,” I say, runnin’ my hand over my face, then head.
“Yeah, whatever. Save your lies. I’m done.”
I swallow. I try to keep my voice from crackin’. But she’s killin’ me. “Will you just listen to me? Please. It’s not my baby. That broad lied on me, yo.”
She frowns. “What?”
“It was all a lie. She only said it to get back at me for tellin’ her I wasn’t beat for her. She felt like I was playin’ ’er. She had her parents all up in my crib believin’ that BS. But it’s not true. My pops told me this morning before coming here that her pops called him to apologize, yo. She admitted to her parents it’s not mine.”