by Tracy Brown
Nate shrugged, unsure how to answer that. “It was the liquor, Latoya. I was—”
“You were a fuckin’ embarrassment, out in the streets every day, stumbling around and falling down drunk. You would yell our names from down the block and we would die from embarrassment. I was so ashamed that people knew you were my father.”
Nate hated to hear her say that. But he had to admit that he deserved it.
Toya got lost in thought for a moment, recalling the terror she’d suffered at her father’s hands. As she’d gotten older and blossomed into an adolescent, Toya, like most girls her age, began to like boys. Toya recalled how her drunken father would see her on the block talking to a boy and bellow her name. When she went over to him, he’d ask her what the boy was saying to her. It never mattered. Before she could even answer him, he’d slap her in the face and tell her not to be a dumb bitch.
“Niggas only want one thing from you,” he’d say. “You keep being a dumb bitch standing around here listening to these fools and you ain’t gonna be shit. All you’ll be is another dumb bitch with a whole bunch of kids. All these muthafuckas want is some pussy. Take your black ass home!”
Toya snapped out of her reverie and heard her father apologizing for the umpteenth time. She had hated Nate for as long as she could remember. Cutting him off midsentence, her words left him momentarily speechless. “And then, as if being a drunk bum in the street wasn’t enough, you started using crack.”
Nate closed his eyes and nodded. That had been the worst mistake of his life.
Toya knew she had hit him where it hurt. “You’re a fuckin’ crackhead.”
Nate opened his eyes and looked at his daughter for several long, silent moments. “I was a crackhead.”
“Once a crackhead, always a crackhead.”
He put up his hands as if he didn’t want to fight. “Okay,” he allowed. “I got caught up with that shit and couldn’t get off.” As she listened to him talking about his alcoholism and how he got hooked on drugs, she kept flashing back to incidents in her childhood that were forever etched in her memory.
“I realized I had a problem. But I couldn’t stop using crack,” Nate was saying. “Whenever I wasn’t high, I would think about all the shit I had did to y’all and I—”
“Remember when you would wake me up in the middle of the night, even when you knew that I had school the next day, so that I could walk with you to get drugs?” Toya interrupted. “Remember that shit? How you would take me with you to go get that shit because you were too twisted to walk and get it by yourself?”
Nate didn’t respond. Of course he remembered it. He knew that she was trying to hurt him, and it was working.
“How about the time when I was sixteen and on my way out to a party and you tried to stop me from going—said I was going out to be a fuckin’ tramp. When I tried to walk past you, you pushed me down the stairs and broke my arm. Remember that?”
“Latoya—”
“Or the time when you knocked my tooth out.” Toya popped her false tooth out to reveal a hole where her front tooth had once been. Few people knew that she had a missing tooth, but for her it was a painful daily reminder of the abuse she’d suffered at her father’s hands. “Punched me in my mouth like a fuckin’ man ’cuz I had the nerve to try and defend my mother when you were putting a foot in her ass.” She sighed. “You would beat her until she cried and curled up in a ball. Then you would take her money, her jewelry, our shit … whatever you could find. And you would go and get high. Didn’t care how we survived, what we ate, or if the bills got paid. Didn’t care that all the neighbors were calling your wife a dumb bitch, and that all the kids in school were laughing at us and the shame you brought on all of us. All you ever cared about was yourself. No wonder Derrick started selling drugs at sixteen. Somebody had to take care of the family. And your no-good ass was too fucked up to help.”
“I’m so sorry, Latoya.”
“Fuck you.”
“I deserve that.”
“You deserve to die, bitch!” Her voice reverberated off the dining room walls and she saw her father wince ever so slightly.
Nate sighed, then nodded slowly. “Maybe you’re right.”
They both sat in silence for a few moments. Toya thought back on the day when her mother had finally left her father. Nate had run their house like a dictatorship for years, using violence to keep his wife and kids under his control. Toya’s three older brothers had moved out and as far away as possible as soon as they were old enough. Derrick, the youngest in the family, was incarcerated on a drug charge. And Toya had finally fled the confines of her brutal home and gone away to college to escape the clutches of her tyrannical father and her enabling mother. So it had come as quite a surprise to her when she got a phone call from her mother one rainy Sunday morning telling her that the family home had been foreclosed on and Jeanie was moving back to Atlanta to be closer to her sisters. She was finally leaving Nate, and for the first time in her life she didn’t care how he made it without her. Decades of abuse and oppression had at long last taken their toll on her. Toya had been thrilled to hear that her mother had somehow gotten the strength to rid herself of her useless husband. Years passed with no word from Nate and Toya had been relieved that he was gone at last.
Now, here he was, sitting at her dining room table with his life hanging in the balance. Toya had to chuckle at the absurdity of it. She had told herself that her father was dead for so long that she’d begun to believe it. Seeing him now, seated across from her, felt somewhat surreal. Especially because he looked like a shell of his former self. She had been so afraid of him when she was a young girl. Her father was the very definition of the boogie man to her. But she wasn’t afraid anymore. In fact, now she had the upper hand and she wanted nothing more than to bask in that.
“You know something, Latoya?” Nate said at last. “You probably don’t know this, but I saw you on the street once.”
Toya looked at her father, wondering what he was talking about.
“It was about two years after your mother and I split up. I was still out in them streets getting high and I was panhandling in front of a Popeyes chicken joint. A black Mercedes pulled up and a man got out wearing a Coogi sweater, iced-out chain, fancy watch.”
Michael … Toya thought, recalling her ex-husband in all his finery. God, he’s talking about Michael.
“He came around and opened the passenger door and you stepped out. You had on a fur jacket, diamonds, jeans, and high heels and I was shocked. I hadn’t seen you in a long time, and you looked good. I waited to see if you recognized me, but you didn’t. My clothes were dirty and I looked and smelled like shit. I had a coat on with a hood, a hat pulled low on my face. Anyway, you and the man came closer to where I was standing and I said, ‘Can you spare some change?’ I was still hoping you would look at me and recognize who I was. But you didn’t. You looked right past me. Your friend stopped and was fishing around in his pocket for some change or something to give me. But you pulled him towards the restaurant and told him not to give me shit. You said, ‘That nigga’s a bum. Don’t give him a damn thing. Let him get a fuckin’ job or starve.’ He listened to you and I watched you both walk away.”
Toya felt no guilt. She only wished she had recognized her father so that she could have berated him even more.
“I was so proud of you that night,” Nate said. He could tell that Toya was surprised to hear him say that. “I used to always tell you not to give nobody shit. Make ’em work for it. Don’t let muthafuckas take advantage of you. And when you spoke that night, you sounded just like me.”
“I’m nothing like you.”
Nate smirked and nodded. “Yes you are. You’re strong just like me.”
Toya had no comeback. She hated to admit to herself that he was probably right. Toya’s mother had always lacked strength. She was intelligent, articulate, and had done her best to be a good mother to her children. But she certainly wasn’t strong. Even now. Nat
e knew where Toya lived, where she worked, and what her phone numbers were because Jeanie had provided him with the information, which meant Toya’s mom had been speaking to Nate, with her weak ass. Toya shook her head.
“You’re not strong,” she said. “You’re a weak, heartless bastard, and you always have been.”
Nate didn’t respond right away. “I see that you’ve done well for yourself, Latoya,” he said finally. “I’m proud of you. I’m sure that doesn’t matter to you, but it’s true. I’m very proud of you. Out of all my kids, you’re the one I always admired the most.”
“Please!”
“I’m serious. I was hard on you. I admit that. But even when I was getting high, I used to notice that you never took none of your brothers’ shit. You fought them back. Shit, you fought me back. You threatened to kill me. Your mother never dared to do that.”
Toya hated to hear him criticize her mother. All Jeanie had been guilty of was loving a no-good nigga too long. “She should’ve waited till your evil ass went to sleep and blew your fuckin’ head off.”
Nate chuckled a little. “She probably should have. Nobody would have blamed her.”
The silence returned.
“I wanted to talk to you so I could explain that I was out of my mind in those days. I know I fucked up. And there’s nothing I can do to take back all the shit I did. But I love you, Latoya. I love your brothers, and I’ve told them that. I just wanted to come and tell you, too. I’m sorry, baby girl. So sorry for all that I did wrong in your life.”
Toya felt unwanted tears stinging at her eyes. She hated to think that this asshole was wearing her down. She was about to launch into a tirade to prevent herself from crying, but her phone rang and interrupted her. Toya looked at the time and saw that it was 3:30 A.M. She glanced at the caller ID and saw Camille’s name and number. Frowning, since Camille never called at such a late hour, Toya answered.
“Camille? What’s wrong?”
“Toya, I know it’s late…”
“That’s okay. What happened?”
Camille’s words spilled out in a torrent. “Misa shot Frankie’s brother, Steven. He’s dead, Toya! And they’re taking Misa to jail. Frankie is on his way over here now and I’m scared, girl. Can you come and meet me at my house? I’m afraid of what he’s gonna do when he gets here.”
Toya sat there speechless and listened to her friend. She could not believe her ears. “Misa killed your brother-in-law?” she finally asked.
“Yes,” Camille said. “I know it sounds crazy. I’ll explain everything when you get here. Please come as soon as you can, Toya.”
“Okay,” Toya agreed. “I’m on my way.” She hung up the phone and looked at her father. “I gotta go. I hope you got all your shit off your chest.”
Nate had heard his daughter’s end of the conversation and was concerned. “What’s going on? You running off to a crime scene in the middle of the night?”
Toya rose from her seat and frowned down at her father. “Where I run off to is none of your concern. You said what you had to say. Now I gotta go.”
Toya grabbed her purse and led the way to the front door. Hesitantly, Nate followed.
Standing in her front yard, Nate watched as Toya locked up her home, taking extra care to ensure that all of her locks were secure. She didn’t want any more unwelcome visitors. When she turned and faced him, Nate carefully reached for her hand. Toya drew back and frowned at her father. Putting both hands in the air as a sign of surrender, Nate backed off. “I just want you to know that I love you. I’ve always loved you. Even in the midst of my bullshit. And I always will.”
Toya couldn’t handle this. Too much was happening tonight and she couldn’t process it all at once. She turned her head away from him, looking off into the night at nothing in particular, and Nate finally began to walk away.
“Good night, Latoya,” he called over his shoulder.
Toya didn’t bother to respond. Instead, as tears spilled down her cheeks in the darkness of the night, she climbed into her car, put the key in the ignition, and peeled out, heading to Staten Island.
Set It Off
Dominique sat in her car and looked at the dashboard clock in dismay. It was just past 3:45 in the morning and she had had no luck finding her fourteen-year-old daughter. Hours earlier, Octavia had run away, leaving behind a note that now sat crumpled and tearstained in the passenger seat. She had been driving around for hours looking for her child and had been unable to find her anywhere.
Dominique had been under the mistaken impression that everything was fine with Octavia. As far as she knew, ever since her father’s sudden death, she and Octavia had grown closer and established a routine of sorts. Particularly since Dominique’s sister Whitney had proven to be so undependable as the family grieved, Octavia had seemed to sense the importance of being good for her mother. Three days out of the week, Octavia had been attending dance class at the prestigious and expensive Bardwell Dance School not far from their luxury apartment on the Upper East Side. However, tonight when Dominique arrived home from a long night at work, she found Octavia gone and a voice mail from her dance teacher informing her that Octavia hadn’t attended class in weeks.
Dominique had been completely confused. To her knowledge, her daughter had never missed a dance class. The message from the dance school made her more worried than ever about Octavia’s whereabouts. She had gone into Octavia’s room to look for clues as to where she may have gone. She hadn’t had to look very far.
An envelope sat atop the pillows on Octavia’s bed. On it, she had written “Mommy” in her fancy cursive handwriting. Dominique had torn open the envelope, read its contents, and gone running out to search for her child.
That was hours ago, and here she sat in front of the Port Authority Bus Terminal near Times Square praying that Octavia hadn’t left town. She had scoured the terminal with pictures of Octavia and had enlisted the help of the Port Authority police to help in the search. They had no way of knowing whether or not she had jumped on a bus before Dominique got there. But they promised to be on the lookout for her throughout the night. They told Dominique that it was too soon to file a missing person’s report since her daughter was a teenager and had admittedly run away. They advised her to go back home and wait for Octavia to come back and to hope for the best.
But Dominique couldn’t just go home and give up. She could tell from the tone of the note that Octavia wasn’t coming home that night. She seemed to be hiding something, running from something. Dominique picked up the note for the umpteenth time and reread it.
Ma,
I got myself in some trouble. I’m not really who you think I am and I don’t want to let you down anymore. It’s time for me to grow up sooner than I thought I would and to take responsibility. I love you and I’ll be in touch soon. Don’t worry about me. I’m okay. You just have to accept that I’m not your baby girl anymore. In time you’ll understand.
Octavia
Dominique was confused. She felt like she was reading some kind of puzzle that she was supposed to decipher. She had racked her brain for hours in an attempt to figure out what kind of trouble Dominique was in. Her grades in school were good. Dominique always kept on top of that. It had to be something deeper, something personal, and Dominique felt like a terrible mother for not having noticed that something was clearly wrong with her child.
Her cell phone rang and for a brief, fleeting moment, she got excited thinking that it was Octavia calling. But one glance at the caller ID dashed those hopes. Toya’s name and number flashed across the screen and Dominique let out a disappointed sigh.
“Hello?” she answered.
“I expected you to be asleep,” Toya said, speaking into her earpiece as she drove along the BQE.
“No such luck,” Dominique answered, closing her eyes as the beginnings of a headache crept up on her. “Octavia is missing and—”
“Missing?” Toya swerved the car a little. “What the fuck is going on tonight
?”
“I came home and she was gone. She left a note behind and I’ve been looking for her ever since.” A thought occurred to Dominique. “Have you heard from her? It just dawned on me that she might go to your house since you two hit it off so well the night of my father’s accident.”
Toya hated to disappoint her. “No, girl. She hasn’t called me and she didn’t come by.” Toya shuddered as she recalled the hours-long conversation she’d had with her father that evening. “I can’t believe this crazy fuckin’ night!”
Dominique frowned. She had been so caught up in her worries for Octavia that she hadn’t asked what prompted Toya’s late-night call. “What else happened?” she asked, wondering what her friend was alluding to.
“Camille just called me. I’m heading to her house right now. She said Misa shot Frankie’s brother.”
“What?” Dominique couldn’t believe her ears. “Shot him?”
“That’s exactly what I said. She told me she’ll explain when I get there. Frankie’s supposedly on his way over there and Camille is scared. Misa was being questioned by the cops when I spoke to her.”
Dominique started her car and put it in drive. “Oh my God. I’ll meet you there.”
“Are you sure?” Toya asked. “You got a lot going on right now with your daughter.”
Dominique shrugged. “I feel helpless just driving around. Trying to find a teenager in the middle of the night in New York City is like trying to find a needle in a haystack.” She sighed again. “The cops told me to go home and wait for her. I can’t sleep anyway, so let’s go find out what’s going on.”
Toya agreed. “Okay. See you at Camille’s. Get there as soon as you can.”
“I’m on my way.”
* * *
The phone rang in Baron’s hospital room in the middle of the night, startling him awake. He glanced at the bedside clock and pushed the button to raise the top of his hospital bed. When he was in an upright position, he reached over and answered the phone. It was Tremaine.