Brothers and Keepers

by John Edgar Wideman

  Now I don’t know what all that means. And I can’t sit here and say what might have been if she had minded her own business. What I do know is, the broad is sitting in a wheelchair today, paralyzed from the neck down. A car accident. Ain’t that something? So in a way she’s worser off than me. She may have put me in a world of trouble but trouble got a way of turning around, of coming back at you when you puts it on somebody else. I ain’t saying it was punishment. And I sure ain’t saying she deserves to be a cripple cause she did dirt to me. But the fact is she dropped that dime and I’m where I am today and she’s where she is.

  Could be she did me a favor. At least I’m alive. If we had made the big time it just be a matter of time before somebody off us. Wheel’s always turning. You can get to the top but ain’t no way you gon stay at the top. Too much bullshit. Too many cats want what you got. Everybody shooting at you. The life is hard. It’s hard and fast. That’s why everybody trying to get over in a hurry. Here today and gone tomorrow. Ain’t nothing to it, really. It ain’t the money or the cars or the women. It’s about all that but that ain’t what it’s deep down about. Cats blow a thousand a night when they on top. The money ain’t nothing. You just use the money to make your play. To show people you the best. Yeah. Look at me. I got mine. I melted the rock to get mine. You got money and money ain’t nothing. You throw it away cause it’s here today and gone tomorrow. You out there to show your ass. To let people know you’re somebody. Yeah. You out there to shine. To be a star.

  Straight people don’t understand. I mean, they think dudes is after the things straight people got. It ain’t that at all. People in the life ain’t looking for no home and grass in the yard and shit like that. We the show people. The glamour people. Come on the set with the finest car, the finest woman, the finest vines. Hear people talking about you. Hear the bar get quiet when you walk in the door. Throw down a yard and tell everybody drink up. See. It’s rep. It’s glamour. That’s what it’s about. What else a dude gon do in this fucked-up world. You make something out of nothing.

  So maybe the bitch did me a favor. Wasn’t going nowhere in that gangster bag. Be just a matter of time before somebody wasted me. All the big-time niggers get wasted. My life ain’t shit now but at least I got a life. Maybe I ought to thank the bitch.

  The world’s a weird place. Got plenty of time on my hands to think about how weird it is. We was sitting blaming Sammy. Sammy close to getting his head blowed off over nothing. That’s the way things happen. Somebody I don’t even know hurts me worse than I ever been hurt. And maybe doing me a favor at the same time. And she winds up a cripple in a wheelchair.

  See. Ain’t all of us out there in the street crazy. We know what’s going down. We look round and what do we see? Homewood look like five miles of bad road. Ain’t nothing happening. We see that. We know it. So what we supposed to do? Go to church like the old folks? Be O.J. or Dr. J? Shit. Ain’t everybody in the street crazy. We see what’s going down. We supposed to die. Take our little welfare checks and be quiet and die. That ain’t news to nobody. It’s what’s happening every day in Homewood. Them little checks and drugs. What else is out there? The streets out there. The hard-ass curb. That’s why the highest thing you can say about a cat is he made his from the curb. That’s a bad cat. That’s a cat took nothing and made something. When a dude drive up in a big hog and goes in the bar with a fox on his arm and drops a yard on the counter, he’s bad. Got to be bad. What else he be but bad if he made all his shit from that hard rock?

  Don’t matter if it’s gone tomorrow. If he’s dead tomorrow. The cat was bad. He made it the only way he could.

  The glamour. The rep. That’s what I wanted. Coming home one day with my pockets full of hundred-dollar bills and buying Mommy a house and anything else she wants. I knew I was doing wrong. Knew I was hurting people. But then I’d look around and see Homewood and see what was going down. Shit. I ain’t gon lay down and die. Shit. Ima punch that rock with my bare hand till it bleeds money.

  See. There we was. No dope, no jobs, no money. I take it back to that bitch dropped the dime on me. Cause that Monday when the cops raided my place, we had it all together. I mean, wasn’t no stopping us. Then I got busted. Tried to fly out of there but them cops caught me in midair. You should of seen it. I was flying. Hit my door and heard them guns pump and I ain’t never stopped. I leaps the little railing so I can get away but they’re down there too. Two of em alongside the building. I swear they grabbed me right out the air cause I was flying. Trying to make it to the grass, to the open place beside the building, but must of been a million cops out there. I’ll never forget how them guns sounded in the hall. Pump em just like you seen in cop shows on TV. Shlkdump. Shlkdump. Them pumpguns all aiming at my heart and it skipped a beat but I ain’t never stopped. I’m gone till they tackled me out the air.

  Yeah. It’s kinda funny to think back on it. A lot of stuff we did was funny. We was crazy. Had to be. Doing stuff all the time that didn’t make no sense. Lemme tell you, though. I wasn’t laughing when they carried me back up in the house. Had all that dope on me. Never gave me a chance to ditch it. I’m thinking bout the shit in my pocket but what I’m really worrying about is our plans. We was uptight. Everything was alright. We had it together and this spozed to be the day we put our shit on the street and start to making big money. But I’m jammed up. Got me in the police station and I’m thinking, What the fuck is happening? This ain’t spozed to be happening. Shooting for the big time and they got me for them nine half-spoons in my back pocket. Ain’t no way, I’m thinking. This ain’t where it’s at. Like, my feelings was hurt. Like, shit. Ima big-time gangster and they jamming me over this little jive-time shit of Billy Sims’s.

  Then, like I said, Mike came down to No. 5 and got me out. We all met in the bar that night. Me and Cecil and Mike and Sowell. We decided to cool it till the heat was off. Bunch of busts coming down cause it’s election time and I’m hot as a pistol so it ain’t hardly time to move no dope. We decide to put the shit away. Sowell says he’ll drop it at his sister’s. She got a basement and ain’t never been in no trouble. I mean, ain’t no choice really. Ain’t safe to move it on the set. Two weeks and things be cool again, so that’s how it goes down.

  There’s two kinds of dope. One’s the natural kind. You know. Make it from berries, them little poppy-flower berries. That’s the natural shit. And there’s the other kind. Synthetic. Chemicals and do. Whatever it is, it’s different than the natural kind. One kind won’t keep, is the biggest difference. Well, whatever it is, we had the wrong kind. Cause when them two weeks up I get a jitney over to Sowell’s and he takes me to his sister’s. Nice house. Real straight, you know. She ain’t had no idea what’s in that paper bag in her basement. A real clean, nice house. The shit’s in a brown paper bag and we go downstairs to cop and it’s even clean down there. She hand it to us just as nice. Like it’s a sandwich or something.

  Sowell drops me back to my pad. I finish cutting the stuff up cause we only did half of it before. Get it all ready in street bags. It’s ready but I ain’t hardly gon let it out the door without trying a little taste. Mize well do it up right. You know. Greedy. Put a three cut on some. Bam. But wait a minute. Ain’t nothing happening. Do a two cut and try again. A two now and it’s spozed to take a five. Bam. Do the two and I know something’s wrong. Two cut should take me out but nothing again. Cept I start to shaking. Shakes get worse and worse. Can’t stop shaking. My whole body shaking so bad I can’t even stand up. I’m lying on the floor out of control. Nothing I can do. My mind’s racing. I’m flashing on all kinds of shit. Mostly just scared. Panicky. Don’t know what the fuck’s happening. Think I’m dying. See, it’s like you get if you shoot water. You start shaking and can’t stop. Like the chills. Chills just tearing your body up till your heart can’t take it no more. On my back bouncing on the floor and I can’t do shit. I figure that’s it. Figure I bought the big one. But then it don’t get no worser. Get a little better. I crawl over to
the phone and call my girl. Still trembling so bad I can’t even talk. Get the phone dialed and get her on the line but I can’t say shit. My body still out of control all I can do is holler help. Holler it two or three times into the phone. She’s screaming on the other end. Robby . . . Robby . . . what’s wrong, what’s the matter, where are you, and I’m choking and sputtering and can’t say shit but help . . . help. You ever had one of them nightmares so bad you all tangled up in it you can’t get loose? It’s some damn thing or another chasing your ass and it just about got you so you scream but nothing comes out. Just this little squeaky nothing like you can’t get your throat open. Trying hard as you can but you can’t scream and the bogeyman dead on your ass. That’s what it was like. Musta scared the daylight out of Wanda. She told me later it did. Said I sounded like I was gargling or something. Like I was drowning.

  Anyway, I didn’t die. Mike and Cecil come by. By that time Wanda had me wrapped in blankets and I could sit up. Just about alright again when they come in with Chunky. I could talk then and the shakes almost gone but I didn’t want to say what I had to say. Had to tell them the dope was bad.

  Wanda don’t know what’s happening. She don’t know about the dope or the plan or nothing. She know something real bad had hold to me and she was upset and cried a little bit, but Wanda’s cool. She ain’t asking no questions after she sees I’m gon be alright. Tell her to go out in the kitchen and make some coffee. Then I got to say what have to be said to my crew.

  But damn, man. I can’t even say it to myself, let alone tell Cecil and Mike. They know something’s up. They know it’s bad business. They my partners. We been through all kinds of stuff together. They my main men. Still are. Ain’t no bullshit between us, so I got to lay it on em.

  The shit’s bad, man. I shot it and it ain’t no good. Like to killed me, man.

  That’s it. That’s the end of the dream right there. But Mike don’t want to hear it. Mike got to find out for hisself. Maybe it just ain’t strong. Maybe we can put a one cut on it. He don’t listen to nothing. Got to do it hisself. Mike’s gon put the shit in the street no matter what.

  Hey, man. I did a two cut and it nearly killed me.

  Mike ain’t listening. He’s gon do it his way. Shoots the shit and I’m waiting for his eyeballs start dancing but don’t nothing happen. Nothing.

  We gon sell this shit, anyway. It’s dope, ain’t it. We bought it and we gon sell it. It’s dope. Niggers will buy it and shoot it. I don’t care if they get high or die or turn to purple-ass baboons. That’s my money in those bags. That’s all the money I got in the world.

  Mike is wrong. Stone wrong. The shit is bad and you can’t be selling people no bad shit. You got to get a reputation. Be reliable. You got to be there and stand behind your shit. We can’t be jiving. We want to go all the way to the top. I say to Mike, Look, man. We can’t blow, man. Too much at stake, I’m trying to tell him, but he can’t see past the money we got tied up in that bad shit.

  It’s out there. It’s out there on the street today, so mize well stop talking about it. It’s gon out there today. Just cause this bag’s bad don’t mean it’s all bad.

  You can’t talk to the cat. He’s in his hardhead bag. It’s in his eyes. His eyes doing the talking and his eyes ain’t got no ears, so no sense in saying nothing. He’s wrong, but he’s right too. Cause every penny in the world we got is tied up in dope. Good or bad, that’s where our money is. Took us all summer to get it together. Working jobs and hustling any way we could. Took us three months to get a stake together and ain’t no way we gon just give it away. So Mike’s wrong but he’s right, too. We got to get back as much as we can from our money.

  Three dudes cop right away. Things been tight on the set so niggers happy to see some new shit. Half an hour they’re back on the corner looking for Chunky, wanting their money back. This shit ain’t shit. Cats is mad. Gon put the word out. Want my money, man. Ain’t nothing to this shit, man. Don’t take a half hour and we know it’s over. It’s bad shit. No way to move it. Them two weeks waiting did it to us. Two weeks killed the dope and killed the dream. Talk about sorry asses. Talk about some wasted, pitiful, sorry-assed cats. Threw the shit in a garbage can. Took two thousand dollars and lifted the lid and dropped it in and said good-bye.

  Now what we gon do? No jobs, no money, no dope. Winter’s coming. Hard times on the way. I’m low as I can go. I’m desperate. It’s worse cause we built up the dream. Seemed like things was going our way. You know. We got so close. I could taste it, brother John. Like, it so close I had my hands all down in the drawers. It was that close. Then nothing. Just all blowed away. Wasn’t even no dream no more. Shit. And to make it worse, me and Mike both lost our jobs.

  Ima tell you another one of those weird things. One them things don’t make no sense but they just happen anyway. It was the day after I got busted. They been on my butt at my job. I was working at the center with retarded kids. Best job I ever had. Shoulda stayed with that job but my head was off into the gangster thing. No small-time shit would do. So I be messing over my job. Being late and missing a day here and there. Supervisor called me in. Said she give me one more chance. Only reason she’s giving me another chance is them kids. Them kids loved me. I could get them to do things nobody else could. This one named Timmy. Ain’t nobody ever heard him say a word. He just sit like a bump on a log. Autistic, you know. That’s what they called him. Him and some the other ones that was always spaced out. Yeah. It’s some sad shit. Little wee kids and they gone already. Just sit all day staring off in space. Don’t even move to go to the bathroom. Pee and shit all over theyself. You could stick a pin in them they wouldn’t cry. I seen staff people do that too. You wouldn’t believe how they treat those kids. Some the stuff goes on make you sick at the stomach. You work with a kid all day and get him halfway settled down and acting like a human being, and next morning he get off the bus crazier than he was the day before. It’s pitiful. Just kids but they treat em like animals. You wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve seen. They stay at night at the home and bring em to the center in the morning. Belt marks and burns and bruises all over their bodies. I know. I seen it. You work all day to get one quiet and feeling good and next morning his lip busted and he’s wild again.

  I loved them kids, liked to work with em, but it was hard to see em come piling off that bus drugged up and beat down every morning. Wasn’t nothing really wrong with most those kids. You just treat em nice and they act nice. They was crazy cause they got treated like dogs. Little Timmy used to make a sound for me. Think he called hisself saying my name. Little squeaky sound when he wanted me or when I do something for him he like. They said he was autistic. Said he’d never be nothing but a vegetable all his life. But if I could get him to make a sound then Timmy was in there somewhere. Supervisor didn’t believe me till she heard him herself.

  Now see, if my head had been together I would have stayed with that job. I liked the kids and they liked me. Felt like I owed them something. Always a little something I could do for them. It was hard. Ain’t gon tell you no lie. You know I never liked to smoke but I went round with a cigarette in my mouth all the time. Had to. No way to get close to some of them less you got that smoke to breathe. They be messing they pants. Big ones and little ones. I’m talking bout ten-, eleven-, twelve-year-old kids and they stink just like you or me going to the bathroom. One everybody call Icky Ricky. A happy little dude but he smell like a skunk. Eat his own dookey, you didn’t keep an eye on him. C’mon over here, Ricky. Let me change them nasty things. I’d get me a cigarette lit up and take care of business. That’s the only way you could get close to ole Ricky. Blow a cloud of smoke.

  Center was a hard place to work. They didn’t pay no money. Most the staff ain’t shit. Some worse than that. Some sicker in the head than any them kids. Don’t know nothing but how to hurt. Punch kids or kick em. Scream at em or push em when they want them to move. I had to tell em, you know. Don’t do that shit in front of me. You do it in front of
me and Ima knock you out. And the so-called professionals ain’t much better. Got their little certificates and titles. Walking round high and mighty like they God in them white coats. They just as ignorant as the hard legs. It’s all just bullshit. Them professionals know what I know. They see them knots and bruises all over the kids. Long as they keep sending them back to the home at night it don’t matter what they do at the center. It’s two steps up and three back. They know but they don’t care. They got their little jobs and their little titles. They living off those kids, so they ain’t about to mess up a good thing.

  Worked out there at the center a year and a half. Had to be that long cause it wasn’t till the second year Timmy started squeaking at me. Just about jumped out my shoes the first time I seen his eyeballs rolling at me. You could wave your hand in his face and he wouldn’t blink. Like he had this glass wall all round him. You could go up to it and peek in but Timmy in outer space somewhere minding his own business. Then one day he followed me with his eyes. A whole year after I started messing with him. Kind of a game, you know. Messing with him. Couldn’t hurt nothing. Didn’t take no time. Just something to do so I kept at it. Played with him a little bit every day. That was my thing. I’d be sick of changing dirty drawers, sick of the stink, sick of the evil, ugly-acting people in there. Sometimes I’d go off by myself and hide for a while but most the time I’d mess with Timmy. Like me and him had this thing. Really my thing, cause Timmy ain’t never looked up. He don’t care what I be doing. Then, like I say, one day them little green marbles followed me. Didn’t believe it at first. Thought I was getting loony like the rest of them. But it happened again. Got to be a everyday thing. Then one day he squeaked. Wasn’t as big a shock as his eyes following me that first time. You’d think him making a sound would have shocked me more but by that time I knew me and Timmy was friends. Knew he was hiding behind that wall and he could come out if he wanted to, so when he made that little squeaky sound I just laughed and answered back cause me and Timmy was buddies by then.