Getting Played

by Celeste O. Norfleet

  She looks up, seeing me on the steps. She smiles. “Kenisha, I thought you’d still be out with your friends, or in Virginia.”

  “Nah, I didn’t feel like hanging out late. How was your night?” I ask. It’s a stupid question, I know, but still it seems okay to ask. “How’s Ms. Lottie?”

  “She’s all broken up, poor baby. Thank God her granddaughter came home to be with her. I don’t know what she would have done if she hadn’t. Gia is such a sweet girl.”

  Gia? I look up. That damn name has been popping in my world all day. “Who’s Gia?” I ask my grandmother, knowing she’ll tell me something.

  “Gia Henderson used to come stay the summers with her grandmother. Her parents live somewhere outside of Baltimore now. They used to live in Atlanta I think. She’s a sweet girl like her mother. We had a nice talk this evening. She goes to Howard, you know. This is her second year.”

  “You talked with her?”

  “Yes, of course. She’s staying with her grandmother for the next few days. She’ll be a comfort. Charlotte is taking her brother’s passing pretty hard.”

  “I think I’ll go over tomorrow,” I say.

  My grandmother looks at me and smiles warmly. “That would be nice. I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”

  “Okay,” I say, acting like I’m all right with all this. I don’t think I really am. The thing is, I don’t know this Gia, and just meeting her today like that wasn’t all that cool. It was obvious she and Terrence had something. I don’t know what it was or is, but it’s something. “Can I get you something, Grandmom?”

  “No, sweetie, I’m fine. Is Jade here yet?” she asks.

  “No, is she coming home this weekend? I just talked to her.”

  “How did she sound?”

  “I mean I didn’t actually talk to her, I instant messaged her.”

  She shakes her head. “Good Lord, I don’t know how you young people think you’re communicating with people when you use those computers and cell phones. You have to do more than type in a few words. You need to talk to people, not type at them.”

  “One of these days I’m gonna get you to text message on your cell phone and to email on the computer.”

  She laughs. It is the first time I heard her laugh all day. “In your dreams, sweetie, and speaking of dreams, I need to carry myself to bed. I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

  My grandmom and I talk about her friend again and then me at the dance studio. After that we head up to bed. It was a long day with a lot of nothing going on. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.

  CHAPTER 5

  Is It Me Or What?

  “There’s no place like home. I used to think Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz had the right idea. Click my heels three times and everything would be perfect. Right? Wrong! This isn’t Kansas and this definitely isn’t my home.”

  —Tumblr.com

  It’s early Saturday morning and I head out first thing. It rained late last night, so the air smells really good, all fresh and clean. The clouds are still heavy, like it’s about to rain again. I could skip it and stay in today, but I’ve been waiting for this all week. It’s relaxing, it’s invigorating and it’s freedom.

  Terrence turned me on to it and now I love it. It’s like a drug, but you don’t pay for it and you don’t get high or anything. You get exhausted and you think. My music plays, but the sound of my breathing and my heartbeat is really what keeps me going. My feet pound the hard pavement, and I don’t see anybody or anything. There’s no destination, only the run in progress. So, I keep running.

  So many things go through my head as I run. My hopes, my dreams, my regrets, they all come to me. I hope and dream all the time, but it’s the regrets that always stay with me. I have a lot of them, and they go way back, back to my mom and her handful of pills, back to my sister who was my cousin all my life, back to my sometimes boyfriend Terrence, lawn mower guy, who I messed over big time. I know I can’t change the past. I can only do what I can right now to make the future better.

  I text messaged lawn mower guy three times last night. He didn’t return any of my messages. I know I’m thinking about him way too much, and that’s getting on my nerves. I’ve never let a guy get to me before. I wasn’t even this attached to LaVon, my ex. I don’t know why I’m trippin’ about it now. He’s just a guy, no big deal. I can do without him.

  It starts to drizzle, so I turn the corner and keep running, heading back to my grandmother’s house. My song comes on. I start smiling. It’s a Tyrece jam and it’s kinda like the music we danced to last night. The beat is pulsating and perfect for dancing and running. I turn the last corner heading back, and I see Li’l T across the street. He waves and says something. I can’t hear him. I drop one of my earbuds to listen to what he’s saying. “Hey, Kenisha, what’s up, what you doing out this early?”

  I nod and wave. He’s with his boys already. “I’m running,” I say, stating the obvious.

  “From who?” he jokes.

  Not funny. “What are you doing up? You just getting in from hanging out all night?” I ask him.

  He smiles, loving it, like he really was out all night. “You know that’s right,” he says. His boys are dutifully impressed. “You going to VA today?”

  “Yeah, later.”

  “Tell my girls I said call me.”

  There’s no way I can answer that with a straight face. So I just wave and keep running. I smile, thinking about a few weeks ago when I punched him in the eye. Of course, it was an accident. I didn’t know it was him. I was so mad. I was punching anyone around me. He just happened to be in the way. I get back to my grandmother’s house and head up the front steps.

  My body is weak and drained. My legs feel like rubber, but it’s a good feeling and I’m energized. It’s really starting to rain now. I hurry up the steps to the porch. Then as soon as I walk in the front door I head to the kitchen for some water. My grandmother’s there. She’s sitting at the table going through her bills. “Good morning, Grandmom.”

  “Good morning,” she says, as she quickly glances over her shoulder. “How was your run this morning?”

  “It was good. It started drizzling, so I cut it short.” I grab a glass and get some water, then plop down in the chair across from her. I watch as she begins gathering her bills together. There are a lot, more than I expected to see. I notice there are several from a Health Institute. “What’s all this?” I ask.

  “They’re bills.”

  “No, these—Northern Virginia Health Institute—what are they?”

  “Now didn’t you just answer your own question? They’re hospital bills.”

  “I know that, but why do you have them? Have you been in this hospital?”

  “I guess I’ve been in and out of just about every hospital in the area.”

  I know she didn’t answer my question. Sometimes she does that and sometimes I just drop it, but not today, not now. I want to know what’s up. “I mean are you sick?” I ask. The suddenness of having asked the question caught me off guard. Now I don’t know if I’m ready to hear the answer.

  “I guess I’m about as sick as the next person, I suppose.”

  “That’s still not an answer, Grandmom,” I say seriously. It’s obvious she is avoiding the question. “Are you sick?”

  “Don’t worry about me, sweetie. Now, what time are you headed to your father’s house today?” she asks, as she continues putting the bills away into a large envelope.

  “Um, later this morning,” I say.

  “All right, I’m heading out in about an hour. I can drop you off if you want. Why don’t you go up and get ready?”

  I nod, then get up and leave. I’m no fool. I know she still didn’t answer my question. I turn around and look back at her. She stands up and goes to the kitchen window. She’s looking out. I’m not sure what kind of expression she has, but I get the feeling something’s up. I go upstairs, take a quick shower and then change. Fifty-five minutes later, I head back downstai
rs and look around. If we’re going out, my grandmother is always on time and ready. But she’s not.

  I go back in the kitchen and see her still standing at the window looking out. “Grandmom, are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine, just thinking.” She turns and half smiles. “Are you ready to go?”

  I nod, seeing she’s been crying. My heart won’t let me ask her again.

  It rains the rest of the day. I’m not talking about that little bit of stuff that comes down in a mist. No, I’m talking about that heavy rain where you can barely get the windshield wipers to go fast enough. We went to my dad’s office first and then we drove to Virginia. Since nobody was there, she dropped me at my dad’s house, and I hurry to the front door and ring the bell.

  It still drives me crazy that I have to ring the bell at my own house. I wait a few seconds. No one answers. I can hear the television inside blasting. I ring the bell a couple more times. There’s still no answer. Next, I try the door knob. It turns. As soon as I open the door, I realize it’s not the television blasting. It’s Courtney.

  She’s upstairs screaming her head off as usual. I go in and listen at the bottom of the stairs for a minute to hear who she’s yelling at. I should have guessed. It’s my dad. And I can just imagine what the argument is about—money, other women and me. It’s her standard trifecta when it comes to their fights, although not necessarily in that order.

  Simply put, Courtney wants my dad’s money. My dad gives her just enough to take care of the house, no more. She hates that. She knows my mom got whatever she wanted. Then there are the other women. Courtney wants my dad to be faithful. That’s really not gonna happen. And then there’s the third one, me. She hates me. That’s okay, ’cause I hate her ass, too. I don’t know what my dad expected to happen when he introduced us. Me to like her? She’s in my house trying to take over—did he really expect best friends? It wasn’t gonna happen. Then, after I slapped her, it was really on.

  All of a sudden the argument gets really loud. I know postpartum is supposed to be a bitch, but seriously, who could tell the difference with Courtney’s crazy-ass. She’s a raging, screaming lunatic most of the time. Apparently today is no different. Either way, I don’t feel like being bothered, so I go to the family room beside the kitchen and see if the boys are around. They usually hide there when my dad and Courtney argue. I told them to turn the TV up really loud, so they’re usually parked in front of the television with a DVD. Today they’re not.

  I head back to the front of the house, then cut through the living room to go to my father’s home office. I once found the boys hiding under my dad’s desk. I think that’s when we started getting close. I remember looking under the desk and seeing their big brown eyes staring back at me. They were petrified. It reminded me of myself. I hated it when my parents argued. After that, the boys and I became close. I was their big sister and their hero. I liked that. Also, the office is where I usually hang out when I come here. It kind of reminds me of my old house before everything changed.

  The rest of the house was cluttered with a mass of cheap bargain basement furniture. I guess Courtney thought if she had more stuff scattered around, you wouldn’t notice how cheap it all looked. She was wrong. The place looked a hot mess. All but my dad’s office—that was nice. It looks almost the same as it did when I lived here with my mom. I open the office door and walk in and then stop instantly. There’s this guy with music earbuds on sitting at my dad’s desk.

  I stand there and watch him for a minute or two, more ’cause I’m just shocked to see him there than anything else. He’s tall and light-skinned and looks a little like my dad. The first thing I think is, damn, I have another brother. But then I know that isn’t right. He looks too old. He has to be like about twenty. So, he’s just sitting there going through my dad’s computer like he owns the place. He hasn’t noticed me yet. His eyes are glued to the screen. Whatever he’s doing on the computer, he’s really into it.

  Then he looks up and sees me. His eyes widen in surprise. I know I startled him. Still, he has this annoyed expression on his face, like I’m interrupting him or something. He pulls out one earbud and presses a key on the keyboard. I look at him, waiting for him to say something. He doesn’t, so I do. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing?” I ask indignantly.

  “Who the hell are you?” he asks right back, with the same indignation. He pulls the other earbud out, cusses under his breath and then stands up.

  CHAPTER 6

  Anybody’s Guess

  “I’m so tired of getting it wrong. It seems every turn I take is the wrong one. Every move I make leads me to a dead end.”

  —MySpace.com

  Shit. He’s way taller and bigger than I first thought. He gives me this threatening look, but for real, I don’t back down. I smacked Darien, so I am seriously up to smacking him down, too. “I live here,” I say, then drop my bag in the chair and then pull my cell phone from my jeans pocket, ready to call the police. “Who are you?” I ask again.

  “You must be his kid,” he says, looking me up and down.

  “Excuse me?” I say, looking at him the same way.

  “James’s kid,” he clarifies.

  “And you are?” I ask again.

  “Cash, I’m Courtney’s brother.”

  I look at him suspiciously. Figures. Then yeah, I can kinda see it now. He does look a little like Courtney. They have the same eyes and mouth and definitely the same angry expression. It must be a family trait, to look perpetually pissed off. “My father’s name is Kenneth,” I correct.

  “My sister calls him James,” he says.

  “Your sister’s wrong. James is my dad’s middle name.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” he says dismissively.

  “So what are you doing in here?” I ask, glancing at the back of my dad’s computer monitor. That’s all I can see from this vantage point.

  “Getting away from them. What does it look like?” he says, then sits back down, more relaxed like he was when I first came in.

  I nod. It makes sense. Anybody with half a brain would want to get away from my dad and Courtney when they argue. It’s like listening to a banshee and a barking dog. He rumbles low and loud and she squeals in this high-pitched whine that comes out like ear-splitting screams. Together they sound like some demented rap duet. I swear they drive anyone within listening distance insane. All you want to do is get away from them. “Where are the boys?” I ask Cash.

  “Out back.” He motions out the side door that leads to the big backyard behind the house. “I figured they didn’t need to hear all that, so I sent them out. I told them to stay close.”

  I nod again. At least it sounds like he has some sense. I used to hate hearing my mom and dad arguing, too. I’d turn the TV up or the stereo up really loud, so I didn’t have to hear. I walk over to the sliding glass door on the other side of the office to see if the boys are okay. They’re right outside the door playing with a toy basketball and hoop. They aren’t really playing, just tossing the ball back and forth. They look so sad.

  I glance up at the reflection in the glass door. I can see the rest of the office behind me. I look at Cash. He’s watching me. He doesn’t see that I see him. Then I look at the desk, then the computer screen. I assumed Cash was downloading music, but he wasn’t. There is one of my dad’s company spreadsheets on the screen. It looks to me like he’s going through my dad’s company files. I turn back to the room.

  “So, are you here this weekend?” he asks, pressing a key quickly to clear the screen, acting like nothing happened.

  I don’t think he exactly saw me looking at the screen’s reflection, so I just play along. “Yeah, although maybe not,” I say. I hear my dad and Courtney coming down the stairs, bringing the argument with them. They’re really going at it, and it sounds like they’re in the foyer or living room now. My dad’s voice is getting lower which means he’s ready to end this. On the other hand, Courtney’s shrieks are shriller and soundin
g more and more desperate.

  “…you ain’t going nowhere until you make this right…”

  “…who do you think you’re talking to? You don’t order me to do anything in my house…”

  I smile. The idea that Courtney was still trying to control my dad was comical. Apparently she hadn’t gotten it through her head that it just wasn’t gonna happen. My dad is stubborn and strong-willed. He’s not the type of man to be pinned down or backed into a corner. Just because she keeps having his kids doesn’t mean she owns him. If this is the basic argument, I know it won’t last much longer. ’Cause chances are he’ll walk out.

  “…then what am I supposed to do…”

  “…does it look like I care…”

  Then their voices get even clearer. They must be closer to the office door. It’s hard not to overhear everything at this point. My dad’s obviously ready to walk out on the whole thing. I go back over to the chair by the door and pick up my bag. If he’s leaving, I’m going, too. We need to talk.

  “…and you need to tell your whores not to call my house…”

  “…your house? Since when is this your house…”

  Okay, now this argument I know all too well. It’s the same one my mom used to have with my dad. It’s all about control again. And my dad is not one to be controlled, particularly when it comes to him screwing around.

  Cash and I look at each other. He shakes his head slowly. “You know he treats her wrong, don’t you?” he says, obviously taking his sister’s side in the argument.

  I don’t say anything at first. It seems strange to discuss it with him. I don’t even know him. But I do know Courtney, and whatever my dad is doing, she deserves it. So I, of course, choose my side, too. “Well, maybe if she’d stop screaming like a psychotic banshee, he’d treat her better. But seriously, what does she really expect from him, to be faithful to her? She was doing the same thing to my mom that somebody else is doing to her right now.”

  He gives me this fierce look, so I had to add a little something, something extra. “What goes ’round, comes around. Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?” That was for my mom.