Midnight and the Meaning of Love

by Souljah, Sister

  “How long you known me, Bangs? You never even offered me one glass of water. You see a man is out here working and even hustling on these courts a few hours every night. You never thought to offer me a cool drink. I been in your house. You never offered me a stew, sandwich, or a cookie. You think you’re ready, but you wouldn’t even know what to do with a man,” I said, picking the smallest, easiest criticism on purpose.

  “True dat,” she said, regretfully.

  “And how many men you been talking to since we met?” I asked, not expecting a true answer, just try’na show her something. “So if it didn’t work out between you and me, would you just roll with the next cat that you had lined up?” I asked with a serious face, not angry but telling her my real thoughts. When she didn’t have no quick responses like usual, I knew I was affecting her. “Didn’t you say I had your heart? If I got your heart, how could there be a next man on line? Is it a game?” I asked her.

  “If I don’t got you and I don’t talk to no other guys, how am I s’posed to get you out of my heart, Supastar?”

  “Why does it have to be somebody? Why can’t you just go home and take care of your daughter? Go to school and put your mind on something else?”

  “ ’Cause that’s boring and I’m young. I need real love in my life,” she answered. “And besides, when I be with other guys, that’s just talking. It’s only you who I love.” She looked right at me to try and show her true intent. She didn’t even blink.

  “C’mon, Supastar. Let me get a do-over!” she said, smiling wildly once again. “I’ll change. I’ll change for you. I want you to be my man and my daughter’s father, for real. I’ll do anything. Just tell me.”

  “Nah, it ain’t easy like that. It’s not just something you wake up doing tomorrow. First, you got to at least have some learning and understanding.”

  “I’m smart! Just ’cause I’m funny and I like to have fun doesn’t mean that I’m not smart, Supastar.” There was a pause between us.

  “What type of books do you like to read?” I asked her, not seriously expecting a reply, but trying to show her that she really wasn’t serious or smart enough.

  “Huh? What?” she replied, just how I expected she would.

  I rephrased my question. “What is the name of the last book that you read?” I asked.

  Seconds and then a full minute passed. She didn’t have a title, an answer, or a clue. Not even any of the books that surrounded her here in the bookstore could trigger any thoughts in her mind or memory it seemed.

  “Okay, but I can read! What do you want me to read? I’ll read it. Then you can come over to my house and we can discuss it!” She said it like she might mean it, but always with her there was a strong trace of humor in everything. Always with her, she tried to ease me up into her bedroom. I knew she wanted to feel something. I knew she wanted me to go in her. I also knew that a real relationship couldn’t start or be held together with just that. But at the same time, I wanted her to be a better woman, at least so she could be in a position to raise her daughter right.

  “You’re in the bookstore. You look around. Pick out a few books. I’ll buy ’em for you. You show me that you are really going to try to improve some of your thoughts and ways. Then we’ll see,” I said calmly.

  I really wanted to watch and wait and see what kind of books she chose. I thought it would tell me something and she would show herself something as well. She agreed, then paused. She stood up, stepped over, and then sat down beside me in my chair, squeezing her hips in close.

  “But first, don’t you want to know our secret?” she asked me.

  “We don’t have any secrets, Bangs,” I said solidly.

  “Ooh look at my ring,” she said, holding her hand out for me to see. “It’s a mood ring, and it turned all red as soon as I got close to you,” she joked. “If you kissed me, the glass would probably break open. Ooh God, if you kissed me, I swear I would go crazy.” She threw her shoulders and then her head onto the back of the chair. She leaned her head against my shoulder. “You really kept me waiting too long, Supastar.”

  She was feeling warm against me. I still shook her off. Then she stood up, still staring.

  “I don’t have the time to play with you, Bangs,” I told her.

  “You might not have the time, but I know that you want to,” she said teasing. I decided then that her jeans were not much better than her red denim shorts. Even though her legs were fully covered and her belly button wasn’t showing anymore, her pants seams were still squeezing and riding her curves and her blouse was thin and her figure was too powerful and alluring. Even just seeing her up close and feeling the bare skin of her forearm was too much for me. I’m not sure if it is because of where I am from that I feel and think this way. But I like women, and lately every little move certain ones of them make, when captured in my eye, sends a current through me that I’m forced to restrain and control. I was feeling that current right then, and immediately, I knew I had made a mistake. No matter how hard she came at me, I should have kept it moving without any words. If I had done that enough times, she would have to give up and be forced to go away, stay away.

  I stood up.

  “Okay, but before you leave, because I can see you’re getting uptight, just let me tell you what the fortune-teller said about me and you.”

  “I don’t believe in no fortune-teller.”

  Back in Sudan, this kind of thing is called kittaba, and even though some people involve themselves in it, most Sudanese surely try to avoid it. I had no interest in it. I thought to myself.

  “Oh, but this lady is good. I went there with my friend Brittany, and this lady even knew that Brittany had two abortions. And it was Brittany’s first time ever going there,” Bangs said, fully convinced. “You see, this is how it works. You have to bring the fortune-teller something that you have that you wear on your body, like a piece of jewelry, a necklace, or a piece of clothing that you wore but haven’t washed yet, or like a coin that you have in your pocket all of the time or something like that. Then the fortune-teller holds it in her hand. She closes her eyes for a minute or more, and then she can tell you about your whole life. Like she can tell you what’s going on in your life now and what’s happening in your future also.” Bangs finally paused for air.

  “No, seriously, after Brittany gave the fortune-teller her necklace, the one her mother gave her that she wears all the time, the fortune-teller told her to have a seat. Then the lady closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she said, ‘It’s not good for young ladies to have abortions. You have aborted two babies.’ Brittany’s jaw dropped open and I was shocked and a little bit scared too. Then Brittany asked the fortune-teller how could she know that about her. The fortune-teller said, ‘Because your two aborted babies are here with you now. They are both seated at your side. They will follow you around for your whole life, sad at being unborn, but connected to you still!’ ”

  Bangs jumped up out of my chair with real expression in her eyes. “Supastar, I was scared like shit! But after Brittany’s half hour was up, I wanted a turn too. But I didn’t have the money. It cost thirty dollars. So I asked the fortune-teller if I can come back to her. I told her I wanted to ask her about a person. The fortune-teller said if I had the money, I could return. She told me to bring something of my own and something that belonged to the person who I was asking her about. So I did.”

  “Oh yeah?” was all I said, feeling like this was all some bullshit and planning to pull myself out of it and leave.

  But then Bangs said, “I wanted to ask the fortune-teller about you Supastar. So I took your hoodie out of my closet. Remember the hoodie that you wore that night that the police was chasing you and your friends, the first night that you climbed into my bedroom window? Well, I gave it to the fortune-teller. And I gave the fortune-teller my T-shirt that I had on that night, ’cause that night was so special to me. I was so happy that you came my way that I could just die.”

  Now Bangs had my c
omplete attention. Not only had I left my hoodie at her house that night, I left one of my guns. If she took the hoodie out of the closet and gave it to some stranger, I wondered what she might have done with my gun. I had always felt grateful to her because she helped me out on a night that the police were head-hunting. In those situations they don’t care who actually did what. They just want to pump bullets into black bodies and deny it later. I had picked up my hoodie and my gun from Bangs after that incident. But now that I thought back, I recalled that I waited about four days before I went and got my shit back from her. I had wanted to be sure that the commotion and the surveillance and the search on her block had died down first.

  “So the fortune-teller held your hoodie and my T-shirt and she closed her eyes. When she opened them, she told me that you and I would be together for a lifetime. The fortune-teller told me that you were at my side right then, and you will always be on my side in the future.” Bangs was staring into my eyes, this time to judge if her story had gotten to me.

  “Did you move my gun out of your house at any time while you had it?” I asked her seriously. Maybe I even frightened her.

  “Now c’mon, don’t try and play me. You know I’m better than that. Not only did I not move your gun, I didn’t touch it. I don’t know if you had bodies on it or not. Hmph, I know that much, Supastar. I ain’t dumb,” she said, and it sounded true. I got calmer some.

  “So what do you think about what the fortune-teller said?” she asked, looking up into my eyes as though she wished she could read my mind.

  “I think it’s a hustle and that lady don’t know what she’s talking about.”

  “Then how did she know about Brittany’s abortions?” Bangs asked, dragging me into her soap opera.

  “I don’t know. She could have known already. Maybe since Brittany’s mother goes to the same lady, she confided that to her. You never know. The fortune-teller’s goal is just to get thirty dollars from every customer. Think about it!” I scolded her.

  “Uh-uh, ’cause why we went to her in the first place was because there was this lady on our block who had a son. Her little son was born with a straight line down the middle of his palm. I mean, it was a thick brown line that went straight through and over all of the other lines in his palm. Well, this fortune-teller told the lady that her son would not live past fourteen because of that line in his palm. And that boy was named Gregory Baker. He actually died on his fourteenth birthday, shot in the head at his own party by a jealous nigga. His mother told the story of what the fortune-teller had said at his funeral. So everybody in the neighborhood got worried. It was like we were all checking the lines in our palms, then going to her to get our fortunes told.”

  “Bangs, you’re gonna be late getting home and I gotta go. But I want to get you some books like I said. So look around and show me what you like. I’m gonna look also. Then we’ll see.”

  That’s all I could give her. I had too much on my mind to consider anything deeper, so I left it at that. I could see that she and I were worlds apart in our state of mind. We were too far to close the gap. Still, I wanted to get her started thinking differently for her sake. Muslims don’t believe that it is right to hide the knowledge and turn people away from Islam or to assume that anyone in the world cannot learn the straight and narrow path to Allah. So I had a duty to at least introduce her to the right way and leave the rest to Allah.

  The faith section of Marty Bookbinder’s store was the smallest of all the shelves. Marty had told me once over a game of chess that he didn’t believe in God. I thought it was a strange confession because I knew that he was Jewish. I wondered how he could not believe in God, or for that matter Ibrahim, Musa, Jesus, and Mohammad, all prophets sent by Allah, peace be upon them. I am Muslim and we acknowledge all of Allah’s prophets. I didn’t debate Marty on his beliefs, didn’t even comment. But after that, I looked down on him some.

  I was able to find two copies of the Torah, the sacred book used by Jewish people, two copies of the Holy Bible as followed by Christian people, and two copies of the Holy Quran as followed by Muslim people. He also had the Gita, which I learned was followed by some people from India, and some Buddhist text as followed by some people throughout the Asian continent as well as other places in the world. I picked up one of the two copies of The Communist Manifesto, which was also there. I had never heard of it and was running out of time, so I put it back and chose a Holy Quran. I also purchased a copy of a slim, two-hundred-page softcover book titled The Muslim Woman. Easily I decided that these were the books I would gift her. I didn’t want to think about if they were too much information for her or too difficult for her to read and understand. I just wanted to see what she would make happen in her own life.

  Thinking further, Marty Bookbinder’s beliefs were different from my own, but I respected that he was comfortable providing his customers with a wide range of choices in religions and philosophies and subjects that he didn’ agree with.

  It was almost closing before Bangs came up with her two book choices. For half an hour I saw her picking books up and pushing them back onto the shelves. She walked up to me with her choices, looking unsure of what she selected but so confident about her body and style. Like most women, her eyes always gave her away.

  “Most of these books in here is boring,” she said casually, catching Marty’s immediate attention.

  “What kind of books do you like?” Marty asked her, while ringing up my order on his register.

  “I don’t know ’cause I don’t really like reading.” She was answering Marty but looking at me. “Why should I read some book when I could be out doing something?”

  “Maybe if you read the right book, you’ll be out doing something better,” I told her. She smiled, stepped behind me, and leaned against the back of my body. Marty tried to act like he wasn’t watching, but he was.

  “Now I see why we didn’t get to play chess tonight,” Marty said, while accepting and counting out my payment. I smiled and grabbed our bags and said, “Your game is better in the afternoons anyway.” Marty laughed some and followed us halfway through the door. “Nice to meet you, Tiffany. Drop by anytime. I’ll get some new books in here that you might like. Good night, my friends.”

  Outside I handed Bangs her new books. She took them and stuffed her grandmother’s dress in the bag also. “It seems like you are always giving me something, Supastar. When you gonna give me what I really want?”

  “Slow down, shorty,” I told her calmly.

  She jumped up once, then shook her whole body and stamped each foot, throwing a temper tantrum. “How could it get any slower?” she asked. “You got me waiting, waiting, waiting. It be different if nobody wasn’t getting it, but I know somebody is getting it. It’s just not me! Here, take this. I want to give it to you.”

  She pointed to her front right jeans pocket. Her jeans were so tight, I could see from the impression that she had something in there. I wasn’t falling for what she wanted, me to put my hand in her snug pocket. That would be too much for me and she knew it. I didn’t respond. She used her slender fingers to drag it out.

  “Those are my feelings.” It was the music she had been listening to on her Walkman, I figured.

  “Nah I’m good,” I told her, believing that in this case accepting her music would be the same as accepting her feelings for me. She leaped up and pushed the music in my pocket and laughed and ran. Now she wanted me to chase her. When I didn’t, she ran back to me.

  I checked my Datejust. “You got nine minutes to get home on time, Bangs,” I reminded her.

  “If you give me a kiss, Supastar, you don’t have to walk me back. I promise I’ll run straight home and beat the motherfucking clock!” She smiled mischievously, rocking back and forth on her Reeboks and then shifting side to side. She was always bursting with energy and couldn’t keep still for more than a few seconds.

  “I’ll walk you back,” I said, a subtle way of declining her enticing kissing offer. “But I’m
not going inside your house, I’m telling you now. Matter of fact, I’ll take the shortcut up to the back of your house. Then I gotta break out. I got something important to do.”

  “You won’t say hi to my grandmother? She likes you so much. She asks about you all the time. Since you don’t come around, Grandma be asking me, ‘What did you do wrong to him?’ And she been feeling sick lately. If she saw us together, she would probably cheer up.”

  “Nah, it’s late. If she’s sick, she should sleep. Don’t give her a hard time either. If she’s sick, you should be taking care of your baby instead of leaving her in the house.”

  “Oh, you remember my daughter?” Bangs said sarcastically.

  “Who forgets a baby?” I asked. “Besides, your milk …,” I said, pointing to the spot on her thin blouse.

  “I know. Every time it’s time for her to suck, no matter where I’m at, my milk starts leaking and shooting out.” She laughed at herself, a little embarrassed. But she didn’t need to be embarrassed about that in front of me. It was that kind of thing that seduced me the most. It was being up close, and seeing and feeling that, that caused me to stay away. But she kept coming back.

  At the back of Bangs’s house I watched as she walked slowly on purpose through the alleyway that led to the front. She knew I was watching, so she swang her hips more for me. She kept glancing back at me and smiling. Soon as she stepped to turn the corner onto her stoop, I left.

  I was close to the subway about to go down the stairs when Bangs came racing back without her bag of books. “They took her,” she said, stopping short and her face the opposite of how it was only seconds ago.

  “My grandmother! The ambulance came and took her.” Bangs was gasping, and tears were welling up in her eyes.