“What’s the celebration?” Amir asked me.
I saw his mouth and watched his eyes. In fact, I’d caught his every move since we’d walked up to the counter. So I knew he wanted me to respond, but my mouth wouldn’t budge. Somehow, I’d lost my voice. My lips opened, but no sound came.
“Tash, baby?” Tilly was trying to help me out, but I still couldn’t move. He was gorgeous.
I backed up when Tilly nudged me, right into a display of canned beans. The whole display toppled like bowling pins. This might have been worse than causing a collision onstage at the dance center.
“Girl, what has gotten into you?” Tilly asked, stooping to clean up my mess.
“Uh…I’m…so…sorry,” I said, finally finding my voice.
I looked back across the counter but Amir was gone. The meat lay neatly wrapped on the scale, but I definitely scared him off. He was probably ducking behind his counter laughing hysterically or gone to grab his camera phone to snap the new girl who spilled the beans.
“Are you okay?” a deep voice asked. I felt strong arms move me out of the way of the teetering display. He wasn’t behind the counter laughing at all.
“Um, yeah, I’m okay,” I said, wishing I could crawl inside one of the spilled cans.
“Amir, this is my NaTasha,” Tilly said proudly, despite the mess I had just made in front of her friend. She winked at him. “She’s staying with me for a couple of weeks.”
“Nice to meet you, NaTasha,” Amir said.
“Thanks. I mean, you, too.”
“Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?” he asked.
Was he asking me out? I’d never even had a boy look in my direction in Adams Park. I come to visit Tilly and within hours I had the full attention of a handsome, very handsome, boy. Harlem was looking better and better by the minute.
“Yeah, maybe,” I told him. Of course he’d see me around. I was already planning Tilly’s next grocery list in my head and we hadn’t even paid for this cartful.
Tilly giggled like this was all a part of her plan for me this summer and pushed the cart off toward the checkout counter. I followed her back to her apartment like a stray cat. She couldn’t stop giggling at me. Not only was Amir probably thinking what a klutz I was, but my own grandmother was making fun of me. Tilly smiled at me and pulled on her “Grandmothers know everything” apron as soon as we walked into her kitchen. I put the groceries away while she preheated the oven.
“It isn’t funny,” I told her.
“Oh, yes it is and you know it, girl,” she said, “but don’t worry, Amir is as nice as they come. He won’t hold it against you.”
Yeah, right. I rolled my eyes.
Tilly’s apartment looked exactly as it always did, just one step away from needing serious help from an interior decorator. Tilly had definitely gone crazy with the apple decor she loved so much. There were green and red apples painted on a border around her windowsill to match the bowl of fake apples sitting on her table, which complemented the apple place mats and teacups in her cabinets. I was always sick of apples by the time I left Tilly’s place.
“The place looks good, Tilly,” I told her, looking around.
It was pretty small for a one bedroom. She had a tiny kitchen with just enough space for a bar table with two stools, a living room with a nice view of the alley in between buildings, and one bathroom. I walked around, taking it all in, until I was back in the kitchen on one of Tilly’s stools.
“Thank you, baby,” Tilly answered. “As you can see I’ve been redecorating.”
Before long, Tilly had macaroni and cheese baking in the oven—the real recipe with milk, eggs, and sour cream, not the Kraft noodles I usually microwaved from the box. Her collard greens were boiling on the stove. And the room smelled sweet from the apple pie sitting on the counter.
“So, Tash, this is going to be a great couple of weeks for you,” Tilly said. “And I hope you’ll decide to stay even longer. It will be good to have you with me and helping out at Amber’s Place.”
“Okay, that’s nice,” I said, half listening to her, but moving toward the stove. I hovered over the greens like a watchdog, ready to pounce as soon as they were ready.
“Girl, back away from that stove before you get burned,” Tilly said, pushing me away. “Why don’t you set that table already? And you know to use my good china.”
“Okay, Tilly,” I said.
I pulled down one of her good sets, the white glass plates with a pink rose pattern around the rim, the only thing in the kitchen without apples. Tilly reached for a cup of already-used grease.
Tilly had a tendency to go overboard with a cup of grease and a frying pan. Chicken was her specialty, but she’d go as far as a fried pickle sandwich if no one stopped her. She leaned against the sink with her cup-o-nasty in one hand and a bag of flour in the other. I watched her pound the meat onto a paper towel full of flour.
She coated a wing piece and flung a dusting of flour at me. I laughed and tried to duck out of the way.
“What are you thinking about over there?” Tilly asked. “Why are you so quiet?”
“Nothing, Grandma, I’m okay,” I said, hearing my mistake before I could correct it. I waited for her to explode.
Tilly turned sideways and picked up a Cutco frying pan.
“First of all, if you call me ‘grandma’ one more time, I’m gonna have to knock you out. Do these hips look like they belong to someone’s grandmother? And secondly, I know when something is wrong with my favorite granddaughter or my name isn’t Tillithia Mae Evans.”
She cocked one of her heavy legs in front of the other and waved in her best Miss Black America way, the frying pan dangling in the other hand. I didn’t even try to hide my laugh. She was crazy. I was her only grandchild and I’d been calling her Tilly since birth. Every time I messed up and aged her, she called me on it. Tilly wanted to be young forever.
“Nothing’s wrong, Tilly,” I told her. “My first impression wasn’t so good today. I made such a fool of myself in front of Amir.”
“Oh? You still thinking about him?” she asked, smirking.
She had to know that knocking over a canned beans display at the grocery wasn’t one of my finer moments. I certainly wouldn’t be able to forget about it anytime soon.
Tilly went back to the chicken and hummed “Open My Eyes, Lord” as she worked. She always hummed church songs while she cooked. Tilly once told me the Lord’s angels had a direct hand in her food creations, and sometimes the angels actually seasoned her food. I listened to her hum as I set the table.
When we sat down to eat, Tilly said a quick prayer and then I scooped some greens she had boiled onto each of our plates. Tilly sat quietly and watched me.
“It wasn’t so bad, Tash,” Tilly said. “People knock things over at the grocery all the time.”
“But I nearly took down the entire display in front of him,” I said, wincing slightly at the sound of my own whining.
“Girl, please,” she laughed. “You’re being silly. I’m sure Amir had a good laugh and then forgot all about you.”
Great, I didn’t want him to forget me; just that I was a huge klutz.
I finished my greens and the rest of my thigh piece.
“You know you have to be ready for whatever’s in store for you here?” she asked quietly. Tilly could say so much without saying much at all. I loved that about her. Working at Amber’s Place wasn’t going to be easy for me and we both knew it. Making a mess in front of Amir should have been the least of my worries. Walking into a teen crisis center was going to require a different type of first impression than I’d ever prepared for.
“Yeah, I know, Tilly.”
Tilly handed me a wineglass and filled it with iced tea.
“Let’s make a toast,” she said, raising her own glass against mine, “to new beginnings and a summer full of learning and love.”
After we finished eating, I cleared the dishes from the table, while Tilly started to wash
. She handed me a bowl to dry.
“You have your first impression picked out for tomorrow?” she asked when we were all done. Tilly volunteered at Amber’s Place four days a week. I was going to help her starting first thing in the morning.
“Yeah, I have it,” I said.
“Well, go ahead and put it on,” she said.
Tilly had pink curtains on her bedroom window that matched her bedspread. She was the matching queen. Her bedroom was almost as bad as her kitchen. She even had pink lining on some of the hangers in her closet. I shook my head and put on the white tank top and red skirt. I twirled around in front of the vanity mirror and waited for the tips of the skirt to catch up to me. Tilly clapped from the doorway.
“You look great, Tash,” she said, “but there’s something missing. I just can’t put my finger on it.”
She looked me over from head to toe and I did, too. Everything was in place as far as I could tell. When I turned back to look at Tilly, she held out a blue jewelry box to me.
“Tilly, you didn’t have to get me anything,” I told her, opening the box.
“I know it, and that’s why you’ll be giving these bad boys back,” she said, laughing. “My mother gave these to me, I gave them to your mother, and she is passing them on to you. Hopefully, they’ll bring you some luck tomorrow.”
Tilly closed the clasp around my wrist of the most beautiful freshwater pearl bracelet I’d ever seen.
“Tilly,” I asked, touching the pearls, “you really think I can be of help to the girls at Amber’s Place?”
“I do,” she said simply.
Tilly helped me get set up on the sofa in her living room. After I spoke to my parents, I pulled a knitted blanket around me and settled in for the Lifetime movie we were about to watch. Tilly hung up the phone and cuddled up next to me.
“Tash, you’re gonna love it here, you’ll see,” she said.
I wanted so badly to believe her and to not be missing home already.
CHAPTER FIVE
TILLY WAS UP frying eggs before the sun. I, on the other hand, wanted to stay buried under my covers for as long as I could. I wasn’t ready for new faces. I didn’t want to make new friends. What if I couldn’t make friends? Maybe the girls would like me right away. But maybe they wouldn’t.
I spent an abnormal amount of time in the shower, until Tilly knocked on the door to get me out. I really felt like hiding in the bathroom all day. Getting dressed was a chore. My deodorant did me no good. Sweat beads formed around my arms and my hairline. Every time I managed to calm down, it would start all over again.
I finished putting on my first impression outfit and looked at myself in the mirror. I tried my deep breathing routine, just like the one I used before going onstage to dance. Only it wasn’t working properly. My body knew I wasn’t going onstage today, at least not to dance.
Tilly called me to eat breakfast. I fixed a plate of cheese eggs, two pieces of bacon, and wheat toast with strawberry jelly, and sat across from her. She sipped her Earl Grey tea with milk and sugar and glanced every now and then at her Timex.
“We’ve got to hurry, baby, if we’re going to catch space on the train,” she said. I folded the eggs and bacon inside the bread like a sandwich. I took four big bites. I chewed my food fast like laundry in a spin cycle.
“I’m ready when you are, Tilly,” I said, brushing a few crumbs off of my chin.
We cleaned the dishes together and turned all the lights off. I followed her out. On the way out of the building I almost tripped over an old man lying across the stairs. He rolled out of his sleeping spot and stretched an arm toward me after I bumped him. I grabbed Tilly’s arm, pushed her back inside the building, and slammed the front door closed.
“Call the police, Tilly,” I said frantically. She squeezed past me and looked through the peephole to see outside. She rolled her eyes and pinched my cheek.
“Tilly, this is not funny, he could hurt us,” I said.
“Girl, that’s Rex, he lives on this block,” Tilly said, wiping her tears from laughing so hard.
“Exactly where on the block?” I asked. “Did he forget his keys or something?”
Tilly ignored me and pushed the door open. She kicked Rex playfully in the back. He moved out of the way and looked around to see who had hit him for the second time.
“Hey, there, Ms. Tilly,” he said, coughing into his arm. “How you doing this beautiful morning?”
“We’re fine, Rex,” Tilly said, walking down the steps past him. “I done told you about sleeping on my stoop. You’re gone make me fall one of these days.”
“Alright, Ms. Tilly,” Rex said. “I’m up.”
Rex rolled the rest of the way down the stairs and popped up at the bottom with a smile on his face. He leaned on a shopping cart, which looked like an apartment on wheels, then began to search through a bag. He had a mountain of blankets, plastic bags, newspapers, and shoes all inside the one cart. He caught me staring and stuck out his hand.
“I’m Rex,” he said, “and who might you be?”
His hands looked ashy, rough, and cracked, like he was employed at a construction site, except not the employed part. There was dirt under every fingernail and he smelled. I didn’t want to shake hands. I grabbed a finger of his in my own and smiled.
“I’m NaTasha, Tilly’s granddaughter,” I told him. Tilly motioned for me to keep walking, so I waved to Rex and we kept going.
Rex was still yelling after Tilly all the way down the block, something about bringing him a newspaper. Although, to me, it looked like he had plenty stacked in the basket underneath his cart. Every few steps I looked back to see if Rex was still behind us.
“He’s harmless, Tash, no need to worry,” Tilly said. “Rex is a war veteran and a good man. Now, he’s just down on his luck is all.”
The sun was out and so was everyone in the neighborhood. Women pushed baby strollers. Men in suits dodged one another on the sidewalk. People poured in and out of the subway station. Tilly kept the pace of a track star all the way to the nearest train station. I struggled to keep up.
We swiped our subway cards and waited on the platform. A few times Tilly eyed her watch and leaned across the yellow caution line, looking for the train.
“Tilly, be careful,” I said. “Please don’t fall down there. I don’t know how I would get you back up again.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t be able to get me up, but I won’t fall,” she said. “Stay back, though. We know how graceful you can be when you get nervous.”
“Real funny, Tilly,” I said, smiling.
I was surprised how many people were waiting for the same train. The lines on the platform got longer each minute, and I was sure not everyone would fit on. A man pushed past me and almost knocked me close to the yellow line. I grabbed Tilly and took a deep breath. I wondered if anyone had ever fallen on the tracks before.
“Train will be here any minute,” Tilly said. She held on to me with one hand and stepped forward to look for the train again.
I stood clear of the edge until our uptown train rattled to a stop. We shuffled onto the train and stood near the center of the crowded car. An older black woman pushing a stroller sat down in front of me and pulled out a newspaper. The little blond girl in the stroller finished off a bag of Doritos and poured the crumbs into her mouth and all over her lap. The older woman didn’t notice or pretended not to. On the other side of Tilly, a young couple hugged each other tightly, closed their eyes, and leaned against each other.
“Tilly, how many stops are we going?” I asked after we’d been riding for what felt like fifteen minutes.
“The Bronx is a few more stops, baby,” she said.
“Amber’s Place is in the Bronx? But I thought you always said the Bronx is too dangerous,” I said. Tilly smiled and patted the back of my hand.
“It’s not that dangerous if you know where you’re going,” she said, “and you’ll be fine with me, don’t worry.”
I was worried.
Suddenly, the train went above ground. Light poured into the subway car. A little boy a few seats from me swung a Spider-Man doll up in the air. I listened to a baby crying, a woman coughing, and a couple laughing. A few riders walked through to other cars while the train was still in motion.
“Tilly, has anyone gotten stuck in the doors before?”
“Yeah, baby, I’m sure they have,” she said, “but usually the doors will open right up and the operator will yell to stand clear of the door. But folks are always running late and trying to step in at the last minute. Watch and you’ll see.”
I did see.
A few stops later a tall lady stuck her cane in between the doors and waited for them to open before pushing herself in. A group of boys my age took their time boarding and held the doors until each one of their friends could run inside. Other riders started complaining, but the boys just laughed.
I leaned my head back against the seat when I got tired of people watching. The woman next to me turned her head toward me and sneezed right into my ear. I frowned, wiped my ear, and scooted closer to Tilly. The woman took a tissue from the stroller and wiped her mouth then offered me the same tissue. I shook my head. My stomach started to ache again, a bit from the anticipation but mostly from the new germs probably swirling around in my body.
“Are we almost there, Tilly?” I asked. “I don’t think I can take much more.”
“Three more stops,” she said.
The doors opened at Tremont Avenue and Tilly pulled me out of the train car. I was so happy to have fresher air.
“I can’t believe people ride this far every day,” I told Tilly as we walked down the stairs to ground level. “Why doesn’t everyone just drive?”
“Could you imagine what the streets would look like if every one of these people were behind the wheel of a car?” she said, giggling. “Child, it would be a mess.”
Tilly was right. Driving would be a complete disaster. We filed down the stairs and waited in a long line to leave through revolving doors. We exited the subway station and into a whole new world.
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