Sellout

  “Sounds like a good speech to me,” Susan said, giggling and play-shoving Quiana, who laughed and jumped to her feet.

  “Okay, I’m gonna catch you bitches later,” Quiana said, moving toward the door.

  “Wait, we’re not done yet,” I said quickly. I didn’t think we’d get another planning session before the reception. We still had the certificates to do. I told her so.

  “Well, I was supposed to check in on the boys an hour ago, so I guess you’ll just have to go with me,” she said.

  Panic raced through my bones. Tilly would kill me for leaving the building without her knowing about it. Shaunda and Susan were going to stay to work on a speech. Rochelle was going home to work on decorations with her mom. So I packed up my things, motioned to Monique to come with us, and followed Quiana out the door.

  On the way to Quiana’s apartment, Monique told us the full story about her boyfriend, whom we’d all agreed to call L.B. (Loser Boyfriend). Quiana was so mad I thought she was gonna ditch us right away and go after him herself. She definitely didn’t want Monique going home alone. I had a feeling Monique was too scared to go anyway.

  Even though I had heard some of it before, I was so caught up in Monique’s story, I realized I didn’t recognize where we were anymore. I wasn’t even sure what neighborhood. I was scared now. Tilly would not be happy about me wandering aimlessly with two of my not-so-friendly new friends, especially if I was lost. I thought about her story of being left in an unfamiliar part of the city.

  I stared up at the row of tall brown high-rises in front of us that must have stretched for an entire mile. We stopped in front of one of them and Quiana pulled out keys and started walking toward the doorway. I stopped and looked around for a minute. No way was I going to be able to tell Tilly where I was.

  There were bars on every window. There were even bars surrounding a single tree in a patch of grass near the doorway. The Dumpster in front of Quiana’s building clearly wasn’t in use, because there were dirty napkins and frozen ice wrappers all over the ground around it.

  “What are you waiting on, a doorman?” Quiana and Monique laughed and held open a heavy steel door for me.

  “Oh, no, I was just wondering where we were,” I said, struggling to hold the heavy door. “I’ve never…um…been over here before.”

  Monique looked at Quiana and then back at me. I hoped I hadn’t said anything to offend Quiana. The last thing I needed right now was for her to get upset and desert me.

  “Yeah, I bet you haven’t,” Quiana answered, sucking her teeth. She waved her hand around like Vanna White. “Welcome to public housing. We’re still uptown, north Bronx. Can you handle it, rich girl?”

  I wanted to tell her I wasn’t rich, but they wouldn’t have believed me. I wrapped the strap of my purse over my head and across my shoulder and followed her into the dark entryway. My heart raced as a wall of hot air hit us from the elevator. I sucked a big gulp of smelly air into my lungs.

  “Of course I can handle it,” I said, stepping in before the doors crushed me. They weren’t the doors that automatically opened with a sensor like the subway cars. These doors were waiting for victims. I took another, smaller breath, this time without using my nose.

  “Hit floor eighteen for me,” Quiana said. I hit the button and prayed all the way up. She watched me watching the buttons light up at every floor, and laughed.

  “I should have brought my camera for this,” she said, nudging Monique, both of them watching me. The air got heavier and the stench stronger as we got higher and higher off the ground. I was sweating like I had just left a sauna room. My T-shirt felt more like a soaked bathing suit.

  I peeked through the small window on the elevator door around floor twelve but I couldn’t see anything. When the doors opened on floor eighteen, I sprinted out like I was crossing a marathon finish line. Quiana rolled her eyes.

  “I don’t like small spaces,” I said, wiping my forehead.

  She opened the door to her apartment and motioned for us to go inside. Three teenage boys lounged on a sofa and hardly looked up from the movie they were watching. Monique and I excused ourselves and hurried past the television, but Quiana stood right in front of it, with her hands on her hips.

  “Y’all know you ain’t supposed to sit in front of that TV all day,” she yelled like someone’s mom would. “Did anyone get the mail or clean up the bathroom?”

  The boys didn’t move. One of them waved for her to move. While they were arguing I took a look around. The walls were painted black and there were more posters framed around the walls than I had seen in small video rental stores. It reminded me of an art gallery back home, except these pictures were of brightly colored naked bodies. No wonder the boys never left the apartment.

  “You two want anything?” Quiana asked us.

  We both shook our heads and followed her into her bedroom.

  “Good,” she said, “ ‘cause we probably don’t have nothing anyway.”

  I expected to see black wallpaper, voodoo dolls lined up on her dresser, and two Japanese swords crossed above her headboard. But Quiana’s bedroom looked just like any other teenage girl’s room, concert posters pasted onto a light tan wall, a purple-and-white striped comforter with pillows and shams to match. She also had framed artwork of a city landscape. She saw me looking around.

  “What are you gawking at?” she asked.

  “Oh, nothing, I like your room,” I said, noticing the bars covering her windows.

  “Yeah, whatever,” she said. “Let’s get these certificates done. I’m sure you’re dying to roll up out of here.”

  Monique and Quiana got comfortable and found spots on her bed, like they had done it many times before. I dropped into a purple beanbag chair near the bed. I pulled out the same notebook I’d written all the other reception details in and waited for the ideas to start flowing.

  “What are they going to say?” Monique asked after awhile. She pulled one of Quiana’s pillows across her stomach and leaned forward onto it. Quiana chose a disc from a CD tower near her and pushed play. A jazz, hip-hop mix filled the room. This girl was full of surprises.

  “That’s what we’re here to figure out, smart one,” Quiana answered sarcastically. Somehow when she said something mean to Monique, I was the only one to notice. “How about ‘Congratulations on serving your time,’ or ‘Great job on screwing up your life?’”

  Red would really have a fit. I wanted something simple and to the point. Monique wanted something lengthy and difficult to sign on multiple copies. Quiana wanted to make jokes.

  We put down the notebooks and just listened to the music for a few minutes. I put my head back and closed my eyes and pictured myself dancing around in circles.

  One of the boys from the living room couch knocked on the door.

  “What?” Quiana screamed over the music. The volume wasn’t up that high. I think she just wanted to scream.

  “We got anything to eat?” he yelled through the door.

  “Did you go buy anything to eat?” Quiana asked in true Quiana fashion. I thought about Tilly in her apron in front of the stove. She would be cooking up some fancy meal if she wasn’t still at the hospital. I wondered how Maria was doing. Tilly had promised to call with any news, but we hadn’t heard from her yet.

  “Nah,” he yelled back.

  “Then, nah, we ain’t got nothing to eat,” she said. She threw a pillow at the closed door and it landed on the floor next to me. I picked it up and threw it back. She gave me an evil look and then leaned back against her headboard the way she was before the interruption.

  A slow song came on and Monique lost her mind. The tears started falling almost before the melody kicked in. Quiana and I both watched her. I didn’t know what to say. I’m sure Quiana wanted to say something, but she didn’t. On the second verse of the song, Monique grabbed some tissues and began to wipe the tears away.

  “I’m done crying over him,” she said, making sure every drop was gone.
She gathered up her things and started heading for the door.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Quiana asked her. I looked back and forth between the two, wondering what was going on.

  “I was supposed to be home by now,” Monique answered. “If he’s there, I’ll just have to deal with it. If not, I’m going to sleep and not answer my phone.”

  I didn’t think that was a very good idea, but I didn’t have any other solution for her. Tilly’s place was crowded enough with her one bedroom full of antiques and my stuff scattered around her living area. I cleared my throat to get Quiana’s attention so she would say something to stop her.

  “NaTasha will go with you just in case,” she said flatly.

  My mouth fell open. Quiana had a wicked grin on her face, like she’d just gotten caught stealing a candy bar redhanded.

  “No. It’s okay, I’m cool by myself,” Monique said, looking at me.

  “I would go with you, it’s just that…” I started. It was date night. I didn’t want to tell her I had plans with someone else. That sounded selfish.

  “It’s just that what?” Quiana said, with the smirk still on her face.

  Monique was paused at the door with her hand on the doorknob. They were both waiting for my answer.

  “I have a date,” I said, looking at Monique. “If you want, I can walk with you on my way.”

  She shook her head no, but she didn’t open the door.

  “You have a date with your head looking like that?” Quiana asked.

  “It’s fine,” I said, trying to stay focused on planning.

  “It’s not fine. It looks a mess,” she said, looking at the time clock next to her bed. “What time is the date?”

  “I’m supposed to meet him at seven thirty,” I told them. Two and a half hours to walk with Monique and then shower and get ready.

  “Then I guess we have to work fast,” she said, motioning for me to move closer to her. She pointed to something on top of her dresser of drawers. “Monique, hand me that brush and comb and sit down.”

  Monique did as she was told and so did I.

  Quiana dug into my hair like it was a plate of spaghetti. She moved my head roughly and quickly, but not so it hurt me. I could feel the comb moving through each section of hair and her fingers pulling at each braid all over my scalp. While she braided they reminisced about earlier days at Amber’s Place. I sat quietly and listened to their stories.

  Hearing them made me think of Heather. I wondered if we would ever have anything to laugh about when I returned home. After an hour, Quiana turned me toward a mirror.

  “It’s done, Sellout,” Quiana said. I turned and posed for a minute. Quiana had done an amazing job. There was a maze of braids on my head and they looked sharp. I was more excited about my hair than the date. “The certificates should say ‘Congratulations, now is the right time to change your life.’ Now, you two get out of my house. I’m sick of looking at you both.”

  I was still smiling from ear to ear. We got the work done. Monique was happy to be walking with me. Quiana had just done something nice for me. I wanted to ask when she would start calling me by my real name, but I quit while I was ahead. Baby steps.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  MY CELL RANG just as Monique and I made it to the subway station near Quiana’s house. I tucked my subway card back inside my purse and fished around frantically on the bottom for my phone. I didn’t want to miss a call from Tilly. It had been hours already since we’d heard from her. I caught her right before the voice mail kicked in.

  “Tilly?” I yelled into the receiver. Monique frowned and pretended to plug her ears. I stepped away from her so I could hear Tilly better. “So, how’s Maria feeling? How’s the baby?”

  “She’s okay and the baby is fine,” Tilly said. She sounded relieved and happy. I gave Monique thumbs-up and she nodded that she understood. Her face was still preoccupied and tense, though, and I could tell she was dreading going home. “The doctors are keeping her so she can rest. They’re both doing fine.”

  “That’s great, Tilly,” I told her. “When are you gonna be home?”

  Even though we would miss each other, I would have liked to see her before my date. She would know the right things to say and what not to say. Monique motioned to the watch on her arm and headed for the stairs.

  “I’ll be home in a bit, baby,” Tilly said. “I want to make sure someone in Maria’s family is gonna stay with her and then I’ll be on my way.”

  “Okay, Tilly,” I agreed, a little too sadly. I knew she could hear in my voice that I was disappointed. For the first time in my life, when I needed my grandmother, she wasn’t there. I didn’t like how that felt at all. “See you later.”

  “NaTasha?”

  “Yeah, Tilly?” I asked reluctantly. I pulled my subway card out and joined Monique at the top of the stairs. A few passersby gave us dirty looks for blocking the entrance and pushed past us.

  “I’m sorry I’m going to miss you before you leave for your date, baby,” she said. I could tell she was sad, too. I felt bad for making that happen.

  “It’s really okay, Tilly. It’s just a silly date,” I said, trying to make us both feel better.

  “It is not silly, and I wish I was there,” she said.

  “I know, Tilly, I know.”

  “Have a good time,” she said, “and remember everything I’ve taught you.”

  I knew this was the part where she would tell me not to try to act like someone I wasn’t and that it would be up to me to keep my morals and pride in place even when there were no adults around to watch me.

  “I love you, Tilly,” I told her, and flicked my phone closed. Monique was already at the bottom of the stairs waiting for me in front of the single turnstile.

  “Maria’s fine,” I told her. Monique smiled faintly and swiped her subway card. I followed her to the downtown platform and looked at her again. “Did you hear me? Maria’s going to be okay.”

  The last part got lost in the noise when a train barreled past us at top speed, sounding like a category five tornado. We waited until it slowed down so we could hear each other again.

  “That’s really great. I’m happy to hear it,” she said, stepping into an almost packed car. I followed her in and held on to the pole in front of me. Monique held the pole above her head. “I was just thinking how messed up it would be if I ended up in the hospital tonight, too.”

  I stayed quiet. She watched me carefully to see how I would respond.

  “Just think, you would have done all this reception planning for nothing after all,” she said, laughing. I started to second-guess my decision to let her go home alone. At this point, I was more worried than she seemed to be. She noticed she was the only one laughing and stopped.

  “He’s just not the type to give up so easily,” she said. The train rattled and shook us violently. When it finally stopped I asked her if she wanted to come home with me. “No, I’ll be fine. You’ve done enough. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Yeah, see you in the morning, Monique.”

  She waved and squeezed through the crowd. I tried to stop thinking about Monique and tried to plan my outfit for tonight. I had twenty minutes to shower and dress before Amir came to pick me up. Good thing my hair was laid already.

  Amir was waiting on Tilly’s stoop when I got off the train. So much for the twenty minutes I had left to get ready. For a moment I considered going on the date just as I was, but I needed to put on more deodorant and had no makeup on at all. That wasn’t going to work.

  “Hey, NaTasha, what’s going on?” Amir said. He had on dark slacks and a light blue polo shirt, a nice change from the white apron and khakis that I usually saw him in. He was leaning against the door with one foot crossed over the other. He looked more like a model than my date. My heart started to beat fast and my palms got really wet.

  “Hey, Amir, I’m just getting back,” I told him. I didn’t know what else to say. Only five minutes in and I
was already saying stupid things. “You want to come up while I get ready?”

  Tilly would flip out if she knew I had a boy in her apartment all by myself without her being there.

  “Sure,” he said, following me up the stairs.

  My whole body rose in temperature. I pointed to the couch I usually slept on so Amir could sit down and relax while I went to get ready. I scanned the area for any of my panties or bras lying around but didn’t see any.

  “So, get comfortable and I’ll be right back,” I said. “Can I get you anything?”

  He shook his head no and smiled. “Only you.”

  Amir was sitting in my living room and I was about to take my clothes off. If Tilly walked in now, she would have a heart attack. I stripped and jumped into the shower, lathering myself two extra times. I brushed, flossed, and gargled with mouthwash. I dressed quickly, but slow enough so I wouldn’t start sweating, and applied two layers of lip gloss. When I walked out of the bathroom, Amir whistled.

  “Wow, you look great, NaTasha,” he said, standing to his feet. He put down the magazine he was reading and gave me a once-over. I could see his eyes tracing the bottom of my jean skirt.

  “Thanks, you too,” I said. I snatched my purse from the floor and headed for the door. “So, what movie are we seeing?”

  I moved to the door expecting Amir to follow me. He didn’t, and instead sat back down on the couch. When he saw me looking at him, he patted the seat on the couch next to him.

  “We’re late for the movie already, so I thought we could just stay here,” he said.

  Staying in wasn’t what I had in mind. Staying in didn’t require all the extra bathroom time, the extra lip gloss and perfume. Tilly wouldn’t approve of us staying in her place alone.

  I shook my head no and kept moving toward the door. Amir pretended not to see me and fiddled with something on his shirt. All of a sudden I felt childish and silly. Tilly trusted Amir. They had been friends for a while. She wouldn’t mind. She would come home soon anyway.