So You Call Yourself a Man

by Carl Weber

  “What? Yeah, he’s here. Uh-huh. I got two hundred.” I rolled my eyes when I heard that. I wondered how often she and her friends compared notes on how much money they were able to extort from their babies’ fathers.

  Michelle laughed, then I heard her say, “Hell, yeah, we’re still going. Call up and find out how crowded it is in there today. I don’t want to be waiting all day to get my hair done. What? No, I don’t want to skip it. Janay is gonna watch Marcus for me tonight when James brings him back, and you know my hair gotta look good for the club tonight.”

  It took every bit of self-control that I had not to jump off the couch and go into the kitchen. Now, I know there are probably plenty of men out there who have their suspicions about where their child-support money actually goes, but I was a brother with living proof that not a penny of that money was going to benefit my son. That two hundred dollars was going to end up in the hands of some weave-wearing, gum-popping chick down at the hair salon, who probably had a few baby daddies of her own on the hook for loot every month. That shit burned me up.

  I was on the couch doing some deep breathing to calm myself down when Michelle strolled back into the living room. “Marcus,” she yelled, “hurry up. You don’t want to keep your daddy waiting.”

  “What’s the matter?” I asked. “You in a hurry to get to your hair appointment?”

  She rolled her eyes at me but didn’t bother to answer my question as she picked up her purse and pulled out her wallet.

  “I can’t believe you, Michelle.”

  “What is your problem?” she asked calmly, like she didn’t have a care in the world. Shoot, she didn’t, now that she had my cash safely tucked away in her bag.

  “You know what my problem is. I gave you that money to take care of Marcus, and you don’t even have the decency to pretend you’re gonna spend it on him.”

  “Oh, I know you’re not gonna go there,” she started, turning to me with an ice-cold stare. “Shoot, as much money as I spend on that child every day, I’m broke by the end of the week. As long as your son is provided for, you shouldn’t care where your share of his support money goes. Trust me, Marcus gets everything he needs.”

  “Somehow I doubt that, Michelle.” I stood up and stepped closer to her. “You’re so damn concerned about going to get your party on at the club tonight, you’re gonna leave him with my mother all day and then leave him with another babysitter tonight. As a matter of fact, whoever this Janay person is, why couldn’t you have called her all those times you called me to come babysit?”

  “Oh, no, you didn’t just say that. I’m a good mother to my son, James, and just because I want to go out once in a while don’t mean I don’t take care of my baby. And as far as calling you to watch him, shit, he’s your son. Be glad I don’t make you take him for a whole weekend.”

  So much for getting out of there without a hassle…. Her attitude, like she was doing me some kind of favor with our current arrangement, had me at the boiling point. My anger was out of control now, and I didn’t stop to think about what I said next.

  “You know what? Forget you. Maybe your girl Janay can watch him all day, ’cause I damn sure ain’t gonna let you take advantage of my mother as your new babysitter. It’s bad enough you keep calling me to watch him and bring you money all the damn time. I can see it now,” I said, mocking the sistah-girl tone she’d used on the phone a few minutes before, “‘Yeah, girl, I got his mother wrapped around my finger. She’ll watch Marcus any time I want.’ Well, guess what, Michelle? It ain’t happening. You can watch him your damn self!” As I shouted, I spotted Marcus out of the corner of my eye. He had come into the room while we were fighting, and he stood there now, his arms full of action figures he had been planning to take to my mother’s house, his face full of confusion and pain.

  I felt like shit, but there was nothing I could do now. The stress of everything Michelle had been putting me through for weeks now had pushed me to this point. There was no turning back. I headed for the door.

  “You’ll be sorry if you walk out that door, James,” Michelle threatened. I didn’t care what she had to say. My legs carried me forward until I was in my car, driving away from her house.

  It wasn’t until I was almost a mile away before I realized the seriousness of what I had just done. The image of Marcus’s sad face was still stabbing at my conscience. I had done exactly what I had hoped would never happen; I had hurt him. And even worse, I had enraged Michelle, and I knew what she was capable of when it came to revenge.

  I gathered the courage to dial my home phone. As I listened to it ring, I said a silent prayer that Michelle hadn’t already called Cathy. If she had, I didn’t know what I was going to say, but there seemed to be no choice but to make this call. Depending on what Cathy had to say, I could either go to the game with my boys, all the while worrying that Michelle still might call, or I’d head home to try to pick up the pieces of my marriage.

  As it turned out, neither one of those things happened. The answering machine picked up at my house. Cathy must have turned off the ringer when she sat down to watch her movies. If I was lucky, she had also turned down the volume on the answering machine. Maybe the worst that would happen was Michelle’s number showing up on the caller ID. I would just have to get home early enough to check the messages on the machine before Cathy got to them. My breathing returned to a more normal rate as I realized I just might be able to handle this mess.

  I went to the game with Brent and Sonny, though I don’t remember much of what happened there. My mind was still on overdrive, thinking through my dilemma. When should I tell Cathy? And would she ever be able to forgive me? Or was it already too late? Had Michelle left a message that Cathy had already listened to? My boys noticed how preoccupied I was, and it was easy for them to guess who was the cause of my bad mood, but they didn’t push for details. I told them I didn’t want their day to be ruined the way mine had been, and they left it alone after that.

  By the end of the game, I was more than ready to go home. I know I had promised Cathy I’d stay out later so she could have more time alone, but I needed to see her now. As much as I tried to find a way around it, the time had come for me to admit everything to her. Things with Michelle were not going to get better. At this point, it seemed like it was just a matter of time before she got pissed off enough and contacted Cathy, if she hadn’t already, and I could not let it happen that way. My wife had to hear it from me if there was any hope of saving our marriage.

  On the drive home, I came up with the words I would say to my wife to tell her about my son. I couldn’t think past those first few sentences, because I had no idea how she would react. It wasn’t possible to plan my defense if I couldn’t be sure she’d even want to listen to me once I broke the news. I would just have to let things flow whichever way they did once the conversation was started. I was just grateful that my boys would not be home that night to hear any of this.

  As I headed up the walkway to my home, I tried to prolong my confession just a little longer by taking slow, tiny steps. By the time I reached the door, my hands were shaking and I had to fight not to lose the contents of my stomach all over the steps. I put my hand on the doorknob, but before I could turn it, the door flew open.

  There was Cathy, fury on her face. I looked down and had to grab the railing to steady myself when my knees gave out. In one hand she held a suitcase, and standing beside her, action figures still in his hand, was Marcus.

  30

  Sonny

  I drove down South Road, headed toward the projects, and tried my best not to show any fear. The last thing you can do in the hood is act like you’re afraid. Fortunately, I’d grown up in South Jamaica so I knew a little about how to handle myself, but things were different back then. People just got drunk on the weekends, and when dudes fought, they battled with their fists or maybe a knife. Nowadays, everyone was packing hardware, so you never knew when you might get caught up in some shit.

  Wearily,
my eyes scanned the street. I’d never seen more drug dealers, ten-year-old lookouts, and crackheads in one area in my life, all going about their business like five-oh didn’t exist. I guess I must’ve looked like new money pulling into the neighborhood, because all eyes were on me as I headed to my destination.

  My cousin Leroy, better known as Lowjack, was a master thief in his own right, and still lived in my old building. I was headed to his place because I knew Lowjack was just the man to help me carry out my little scheme. The only problem was that showing up unannounced could be detrimental to my health. Lowjack was always up to some unlawful shit. I usually stayed away from him for that reason, but this day, I could care less about what he was up to. I only hoped he’d agree to what I was about to ask him to do.

  After I parked my car, I reached into my glove compartment and took out an empty mayonnaise jar with holes nailed into the tin top. As I headed to Lowjack’s apartment, I looked down at the empty jar and thought of how I was only moments away from having the crucial elements to making my plan a success. I rushed into the building, stepping over a couple of winos and baseheads passed out in the hallway. Before reaching the fourth floor, I endured the smell of piss, body odors, and soiled Pampers, strong enough reasons to make me want to turn back before losing everything I’d eaten. But I remained focus on what I came for.

  Once I made it to Lowjack’s door, I paused before knocking. It had been a while since we saw each other, and there was still the possibility that he’d tell me he wouldn’t be able to help me. I also knew that I’d never know unless I tried, so I knocked on the door.

  “Who is it?” a gruff voice called out.

  “Sonny.”

  “Sonny who?”

  “Your cousin Sonny, fool. Open the door.”

  “Sonny! Oh, shit, what up, nigga?” Suddenly the door opened.

  It must have been my work clothes, because Lowjack looked me up and down like I was the police. Then he stepped outside the door to look down the hallway. He finally let me in after he was satisfied no one else was with me. I’d always known him to be a paranoid brother, but when he started to frisk me, I started to get worried that maybe I shouldn’t even be in that apartment. My suspicion was that my cousin was back to boosting again, something that was confirmed when I entered his apartment to see, amongst the filth, more stereos, TVs, DVD players, and computers lined up along the walls than in a Circuit City warehouse. My eyes popped out of my head when I saw the new IBM laptop computer that all the computer geeks were talking about online. I didn’t even think they were out yet.

  “Hey, cuz, long time no see. Sorry about all this frisking and shit, but a brother can’t be too safe in my line of work.” I was still staring at the laptop, wondering how much he was selling it for, when Lowjack snapped me out of my trance by grabbing me up in a bear hug. For a moment, I could hardly breathe, and then he let me go.

  “I heard you moved back to New York. What you been up to? And where’s that fine-ass wife of yours, anyway?”

  “Man, I had to kick that bitch to the curb,” I lied as we pounded fists. “I’m back with my old girl, Tiffany. I been meaning to come by and holler at you before now, but you know how things can be with work and all.”

  Lowjack cut his eyes. “Man, you know I ain’t never worked no real job.”

  I looked around nervously. My skin was crawling, his place was so dirty, but just standing there, I knew I’d come to the right place for what I was looking for.

  “So, what brings you back to the hood? Can I interest you in a TV or a DVD player? I saw you looking at that laptop. I got a special on computers. Don’t you work with computers?” I followed him over to the couch, but I couldn’t bring myself to sit down next to him.

  “Well, cuz, I’m tempted, but what I really need is a favor.”

  Lowjack scratched on his day-old shadow. “A favor, huh? Damn, how come only time family comes to visit me is when they need a favor?”

  I wanted to say, “Have you ever taken a good look at your place?” but I didn’t speak at all. I think he got the hint anyway.

  “So, what kind of favor you need?”

  I fumbled around in my head for a minute for the right words. Lowjack sat patiently, awaiting my reply. I soon realized there was no other way to put it than to just ask, so I let the words roll off my tongue.

  “What I need is some roaches.” I was serious, but I don’t think he took it that way.

  “You need some what?” He looked at me with a wrinkled nose and twisted lips. “What the fuck you mean, you need some roaches?”

  “Like I said, I need some roaches. And from the looks of this place, you got plenty of roaches.”

  Lowjack glared. “Yo, man, you ain’t got to insult my crib. I know I got roaches. Everybody in these projects got roaches.”

  “No, man, you don’t understand. I really need some roaches.” I handed him my empty jar.

  Lowjack held up the jar, staring into the pricked top. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Yep, I sure am.”

  “Well, aw’ight then.” He gave me the jar. “If you’re serious, I guess you came to the right place.” He pointed at a door in the rear of the room. “The biggest ones are in the kitchen under the sink. Go knock yourself out.”

  “Hold on there, cuz. This isn’t exactly what I was thinking. I ain’t going in there by myself.” I handed him the jar again. “I want you to collect them for me.”

  “What! Man, are you serious? You want me to get you some roaches?”

  “Yep, I sure do.” I nodded.

  Lowjack stared at the jar, then smiled. “Aw’ight, I got this. But it’s gonna cost you.”

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. Lowjack snatched the money out of my hands. “I guess you don’t want too many roaches, ’cause a jar full of roaches costs more than twenty dollars around here. I’d say a jar full of roaches gonna run you at least fifty bucks.”

  I shook my head, reaching into my pocket to pull out another twenty and a ten. This was starting to cost more than I expected, but if things went the way I planned, it would be well worth the money.

  Lowjack took the cash from me with a smile. “Now you gonna get a lot of roaches. Follow me.”

  I walked behind him into his small kitchen. He put the lights on, and I swear to God, you would’ve thought the walls were moving, so many roaches scattered from the light. Lowjack knew how to catch some bugs, too. He went over to this spot under the sink and within ten minutes, he had my jar three-fourths filled, and not soon enough for me. I was scratching and itching so much, I was starting to feel like I had hives. All I wanted to do was get the hell out of there and take a shower.

  “That all you want?” he asked quizzically. “’Cause we got some real good rats in the basement. I could let you have a couple of them real cheap.”

  I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or not, but I actually contemplated his offer. No, I decided, a few rats would probably be over the top. “Naw, man, this is fine.”

  “Okay, cuz, don’t use them all in one place. There’s plenty more where these came from, and if you call ahead next time, I can deliver.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  Lowjack kissed his fifty dollars as he let me out the door. “You know what, cuz? You one crazy muthafucka.”

  I left his apartment with a big smile plastered on my face. Even the winos and junkies didn’t bother me as I sauntered down the hallway with my roaches.

  Twenty minutes later, I was walking through Tiffany’s front door. She didn’t know it, but I’d made my own set of keys when I took her car to the car wash last week. By the time she got back from picking up the kids at school, I’d be long gone. I placed the jar of roaches on the kitchen table, then reached into my jacket and pulled out a cigar. I lit it up and walked around the house, letting the smoke waft throughout the rooms.

  I made my way back to the kitchen, staring at the jar of roaches. In one swift move, I opened
the lid and let half of them out in the kitchen. They scrambled out of the jar like, “Free at last! Free at last!” I released the other half in the living room, making sure to leave about an inch of them in the jar, which I spread across Tiffany’s bed. You’d think after driving around with them for twenty minutes I’d be used to them, but they still gave me the willies.

  If this didn’t get Tiffany to move in with me, nothing would. I hated to do it, but after spending all that time making those calls to get her fired, I had to do something. Tiffany, like most women, just didn’t know what was good for her. And as her man, it was up to me to help her to make those decisions. The key was not to get caught.

  I crushed the cigar’s burning end out between my thumb and forefinger, then put the butt in a candy dish in the living room. I looked around before I left and was satisfied with the job I’d done. The roaches were crawling everywhere.

  I’d just walked in the door when my phone rang. I didn’t expect Tiffany to call this soon, but when I looked at the caller ID, I saw her number. I took a deep breath, trying to keep myself from laughing when I answered the phone.

  “Hello,” I said nonchalantly.

  “Sonny, Sonny, you gotta help me!” Tiffany screamed hysterically into the phone.

  I held the phone away from my head and chuckled quietly. “What’s the matter, Tif?” I asked calmly. I was proud of myself for the acting job I was doing.

  “Roaches!”

  “What’s that?”

  “I said, roaches. We’ve got roaches. They’re all over the place. Even in my bed.”

  “C’mon, Tif, stop exaggerating. Just step on it.”

  “I’m not exaggerating. There’s millions of these things in here.”

  “Calm down, Tiffany.”

  “I can’t calm down. These things are crawling on me,” she whimpered.