Pleasantview

by Celeste Mohammed

  As he and Shaka went shoe by shoe along the wall, Jason take the opportunity to ask ’bout Brother Omar. Shaka say the man does only be interested in special fellas—the real intelligent ones, like he and Jason.

  “Don’t study how he look. That man teach me plenty important things,” Shaka say.

  “Like what?” Jason say. He point to a Air Jordan on the wall—red, black and white—and Shaka take it down.

  “You’s a li’l boy,” Shaka say. “You ain’t ready to learn them things yet.”

  Well, now-self Jason get interested. “Tell me, nah?” he beg, while the two of them examine the shoe.

  “Sur-vi-val,” Shakka whisper, and then he talk normal, “I real like this one—what size you’s wear?”

  The masking tape on the sole say size 7, 8 and 10 was in stock. Jason call for a 7 and start taking off his old shoe.

  Shaka say, “And we does learn to protect weself.” He put two fingers and a thumb like a gun, and point it at the Syrian lady reading papers behind the cash register counter. “We learn ’bout all these fuckers with light, light skin. Them is mutants.”

  That make Jason buss out a laugh. He realize Shaka wasn’t serious; he was just playing the ass—like always.

  Same time, the sales clerk reach back. The shoe fit real good.

  “I go take it,” Jason say.

  By the cashier, while Jason counting the money, Shaka pipe up again, “Suppose your mother notice the new shoes, boy?”

  That make Jason pause. Not because of the sneakers—Judith did buy that raffle story wholesale. No, was because of what she did say: he can’t pay for nothing and that’s why she need Selwyn. This six hundred dollars coulda help out Judith. But then, Jason remember how she say he fast-and-outta-place just like his father. Well, since she done cast him so, as wotless, it didn’t make no sense trying to show she better. Let Judith haul she tail.

  He push the money over the counter.

  Shaka say, “Wear the thing now, nah?” but Jason say, “No, I hadda go down by my Granny. I fraid them fellas ’round there.” Then he and Shaka part ways.

  The fellas on the block wasn’t the only reason he hate going by his father mother. She smoke too much and her husband had a rumshop downstairs and a setta drunk people was always there—Jason didn’t like that. But mostly he didn’t like seeing his Aunty Gail—everybody in Pleasantview know she was mad and everybody know what did send she mad.

  Jason was little when the thing did happen, but he know the story by heart: how Aunty Gail was with a Syrian marrid-man and how he make she loss a child and how she thief a gun from Granny Janice husband and shoot the Syrian man. That was the last time Jason see Luther: five years ago, when Aunty Gail was in jail and he did come from America to meet the lawyers-and-them. He last one month, then Judith find out ’bout the American white-woman—the lady did call the house. Jason and Kevin was on the couch, peeping through the louvres, when Judith run Luther, “And don’t fuckin’ come back here!” The way Luther turn and watch them, Jason did know right then they loss they father forever. So he did buss out crying, but when Kevin start crying too, Jason had to force his own self to hush-up and be a good example.

  The first time you do something so hard, it does stick in the back of your mind.

  Seeing Aunty Gail always remind Jason of that bad day.

  He reach Granny Janice house and shout from downstairs till she look out.

  “Mammy send me for something,” he say.

  In two-twos she throw down a parcel and say, “Your father say call him when you get it.”

  “Yeah,” Jason mumble, digging in the bag and finding the same kinda shit he did expect. He say, “Bye,” and walk off. Couple years back, he and Kev woulda be so excited for these gifts from America—Kev was still so—but Jason know better now. Shit for shit—that’s how Luther see them.

  Jason rather dead than call that man and say thanks.

  “Why you don’t join we Youth Group?” Brother Omar ask Jason. “Kings of the Earth—the boys pick the name. We does meet Saturdays ’round ten. Come, nah?”

  Jason did come early just like Brother Omar say, and he did done handover the lunch kit, and Brother Omar did ask him ’bout his weekend, and Jason did mean to only tell him ’bout the shoes but then he end-up telling his whole life story. Brother Omar had a way of listening, like you was the onliest person in the world and he didn’t have nothing more important to do than hear you. But now, outta nowhere, he put Jason on the spot with this youth group question.

  “Nah,” Jason say, drawing out the word till he find a good excuse. “I’s a Catholic, you know.”

  “That ain’t nothing. You believe in Jesus?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We too. Abraham, Moses, Mary … we believe. So what’s the problem? Besides, you just tell me your father in America, your mother have a wotless marrid-man who does disrespect you. She brother—the teacher-fella—live with allyuh a li’l bit, but since he wife take him back he don’t even fart on you. You need this youth group, Jason. You need wisdom and handlement. Plus, we does have real fun.”

  Like a wabeen fish out of canal water, Jason wriggle and squirm in the chair. He was starting to like Brother Omar, and the idea of having fellas to lime with every weekend sound cool. But what to tell Judith?

  “Listen,” Brother Omar say, “You was frighten to wear your Jordan to walk down by your Granny, and you frighten to wear it to school. Trust me: if you was in Kings of the Earth, you coulda walk any street in Pleasantview. Nobody woulda dare touch you. People woulda cross the road when they see you coming. You know why?”

  Jason shrug, wishing it had something to watch in this room, aside from the desk and the lonely picture on the wall—“the Kabah in Mecca,” Brother Omar did call it.

  “God does make the path of the disciplined man straight, Jason. Respect does precede him like a flaming sword. You don’t want respect?”

  Bam, bam, bam. Somebody knock the door and Jason feel glad for the interruption. Brother Omar say, “Come!” and one of the guard boys stick-in they arm with two fold-up newspaper. Brother Omar point his lips at the door, so Jason get up and take the papers. He rest them on the desk and sit, hoping the youth group talk finish and the money coming next.

  “So as I was saying …” Brother Omar unfold the papers and, when he glance down at The Express, he stop talking and stay with his mouth open. His face get red like the headline. He bend over the front page like he suddenly catch glaucoma. Then he flip, flip, flip and start reading something. He let the rest of the papers drop and he hold up a page and say, “This is what I now telling you, Jason. Watch this picture. You know this fella?”

  A dead man in the street, eyes half-open and watching the camera, blood running out his mouth. Anybody in Pleasantview woulda recognize him.

  “Nah! They kill Silence? Which part it happen?” Jason bawl.

  “In Town; Nelson Street. They ambush him. He shoot back the gunman though—a fella from Red Kings gang—the fella critical.”

  “Waaaaay,” Jason say, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe somebody could out Silence light so easy. One glance from him did give Jason goosebumps, the other day.

  “Yeah. They did want him long time,” Brother Omar say. “But notice it happen up in Town. Couple years ago, it mighta happen right outside your school. But gangland killing stop in Pleasantview. We in this Jamaat, we tell them it can’t happen so again. We run things ’round here now, and them fellas could do their business as long as they keep peace in Pleasantview. I did watch Silence in his face and tell him, ‘Boy, stop shittin’ where you does eat.’”

  “You coulda talk to Silence so?”

  “Yeah, the man start right here, in this same Jamaat. In fact, I meet him inside here, five years ago. But the man didn’t have no discipline in him. ‘Islam’ mean ‘submission’ and the man couldn’t do that. I remain here in this family, he went with a next family—them Lost Boyz fellas. See how it end?” Brother Omar slap t
he page, then he say, “If a man hadda dead early, he must dead for something important. Not like this.” He push the papers away. He wasn’t red no more, he was whiter than usual, and Jason coulda swear it had a trembling in Brother Omar hand.

  “Yeah, I sorry he end-up so,” Jason say, trying to sympathize because the man seem real, real hurt ’bout Silence.

  Brother Omar lean over the desk, latch his fingers and watch Jason with them flambeau eyes. “Me and he … we was you. We didn’t have no father. We didn’t have no money, no setta education. It only had two road: he take one, I take the next one. Which one you want? Ask yourself that.”

  He open the top drawer and pass Jason two hundred dollars. “Come youth group this Saturday, nah?” he say.

  Jason nod. “I will think ’bout it.”

  Brother Omar smile and both of them stand up and shake hand. When Jason try letting go, the man grip tighter and say, “Call your father like your Granny tell you, eh.”

  Jason rock back. “Why? To hear the same nancy story again? How he still fixing papers for me and Kevin to go America?”

  Brother Omar squeeze even harder and say something Jason didn’t understand, “Stay on him. A disciplined fella like you could do big, big things in America, walking quiet among them infidels.”

  Friday evening, Kevin was on the floor in front the TV, legs skin-out like a Peace sign, scribbling in his Hulk coloring book.

  “Where Mammy?” Jason say, as he walk in and dump his knapsack, lunch kit and football gear.

  “She gone by the Chinee grocery for bread,” Kevin say.

  Judith handbag was on the kitchen counter, as usual. Jason keep his back to Kevin, and move at a angle, so Kevin wouldn’t see the blue note he slip inside Judith bag. Whole week Jason did feel worser and worser ’bout fighting with her.

  By the time he bathe and come back out, she was there and getting ready to make dinner. Jason watch how she drop her wallet in the handbag and push it further down the counter. He wonder how long before she find the money. It didn’t matter, though. Whenever she find it, at least he know it come from him.

  “Evening, Mammy. Let me help you, nah,” he say. He and she was talking again, but kinda cold still.

  “Evening, Jay. Open them two tin of sardine for me.”

  Jason know he could convince Judith this first hundred was something she loss and find back. To really help out, though, he know he had to give more and make it look clean. Draining the fishy brine in the sink, he say, “I getting a small work. On Saturdays, nah. Is okay?”

  Judith shrug. “I don’t mind, once you finish your housework first.”

  Jason dump the sardines in a bowl and ask if he should cut up the onion and pimento. Judith say, “Yeah. But where this work is?”

  “In Town. A sneakers store,” he prattle off, his eye-them drilling hole in the cutting board. He shoulda think through this lie better. Suppose she ask the street or the store name? Suppose …

  “Well, is high-time you pull your weight ’round here,”Judith say. “I wukkin’ since I thirteen. Anyway, your grandmother call. She say come tomorrow ’round ten. Me ain’t know for what, so don’t ask me.”

  Jason didn’t intend to ask. He slice the last pepper and dash out the kitchen before the tide turn back to “work” talk.

  In two-twos Judith fry the sardine, but when they sit down and open the sandwich loaf, a cockroach fly out the bag. Kevin scream and Judith cuss like wind ’bout “them fuckin’ nasty Chinee.” Then she start ramfling through her bag for the receipt, so she could send Jason to change the bread. When she dip so, she pull out the hundred.

  Judith raise she hand like she in church and bawl, “Oh-Lord-Father-Thank-You-Jesus! Where this come from? Me don’t remember this.”

  Jason ain’t say a word, but his chest puff-up till he had to whistle out the pride he feel.

  Then Judith say, “That Selwyn, eh. Is he do this. I tell you, Jason, the man have bad ways, but a good heart.”

  The rage that fly up in Jason head make Judith face turn blurry. For years, he been the one helping her, minding Kevin and doing all the man-things in this house. She never yet say thanks. Is like she don’t even see him. But she hurry, hurry to see the best in fuckin’ Selwyn.

  He grab the money and storm out. “Forget the stupid receipt,” he say.

  Granny Janice was standing up over Aunty Gail, with a length of cane in her hand—the kind people does weave basket with in the Blind Welfare Shop.

  “She giving so much trouble to take she pills these days,” Granny Janice say, “And the bitch bad like crab when she don’t take them. I go call the mad-house, let them come for she. I tired of this shit.”

  Aunty Gail was crying but she put a pill in her mouth, real slow.

  Jason remember Luther beating him with cane switch: every blow that miss used to make a whoop in the air, and every blow that land used to burn like jep-sting and leave a wale.

  “Now drink some water,” Granny Janice say. “Is running down marrid-man have you so: off your fuckin’ rockers. If you did keep your leg-and-them closed, you woulda been good still.”

  Aunty Gail start crying louder. Jason couldn’t understand why she never retaliate. Easy, easy, she could wrestle that whip from Granny Janice. But Aunty Gail always had this hang-dog, po’-me-one look, like she feel she suppose to get beat-up and cuss-up all the time, like she feel she deserve it.

  “Alright, nah, Granny,” Jason say, “she swallow it, so relax.” He was in the recliner, trying to ignore the cigarette stink of the chair fabric.

  The phone ring. Granny Janice say, “Answer it. Is quarter-past-ten. That must be your father.” Then she drop the whip, say, “I goin’ in the toilet,” and speed off down the corridor.

  Jason confuse. She did tell him he come to change curtains. He start cold-sweating but he couldn’t think what to do, so he answer.

  “He-e-e-y,” Luther start in that American accent he pick-up since he gone New York. And, sure as the sun raise over Pleasantview every morning, he say all the things Jason know he woulda say. “Why you didn’t call me, yo? Moms told me she gave you the message. Is it Judith? She didn’t wanna buy you a phonecard or sumt’n? Anyway, you like the stuff? They fit? How you doing in school? How’s Kevin? Remember: you his big bro. I’m getting my shit together with this paperwork so I can get you guys over here. I changed lawyers, that’s all. Little setback.”

  Jason keep mumbling: mmm-hmm, ah-ha, yeah, good—and, still, the man never notice is cold-shoulder he getting. Luther just keep talking and talking like he fraid silence.

  Then he say, “I got sumt’n to tell you, Jay. That’s the reason I wanted to talk to you so bad. Nobody knows, not even my Moms—where she at? Can she hear what you sayin’?”

  “Nah, she in the toilet,” Jason say. He coulda tell Luther that he did hear another click, as if somebody pick up a next receiver. He coulda say that it had a strange, open-air sound to the call, too. But Jason wasn’t sure if was Granny Janice to blame or the white-woman. He didn’t want to cause no bacchanal.

  “A’ight … well … here goes,” Luther say. “You my firstborn. And I don’t get to say it enough, but I miss you like crazy, son. I’m sayin’: you got my heart, yo. Not that I don’t love Kev—but you my first and that’s a different kinda love. You feel me?’

  Jason never yet hear his father talk so. And with every word Luther say, the boulder-size grudge on Jason chest get lighter and lighter—till he think he coulda stand up and bounce it like a beach ball. He couldn’t totally forgive Luther yet—too much questions was in his mind still—but maybe he coulda start feeling a few good things for his father again. “Yeah, Daddy, I understand,” he say.

  “Good. You said ‘Daddy’ … I like that. So, yeah, certain things you deserve to know first. And, please, don’t say nothin’ to your Grandma or your mother or nobody, okay? I’ll tell ’em when I’m ready.”

  “Yes, Daddy.” Jason heart start a steelpan rhythm in his chest. Lik-ki-ting-lik
-ki-ting-lik-ki-ting – that’s all he was hearing. He figure Luther woulda say he coming Trinidad to spend a li’l time with them. Or better yet, maybe he buy two plane ticket for Jason and Kevin to finally go New York and see a “summer”.

  “Congratulations. You got a new baby sister,” Luther say.

  “What?” Jason hear a gasp but he wasn’t sure if it was he who do it or the third person on the line.

  “Yeah, Trinité Rebecca Archibald is one month old and she’s beautiful, Jay. I can’t wait for you to meet her. Maybe for Christmas I might—”

  Jason drop the phone and he walk like a zombie straight to the center table and grab the cane switch. He watch Aunty Gail, she watch him, then she say, “Don’t cry.” With that, Jason take off running. He cross the gallery, he swing the gate and leave it skin-open, he run down the front steps, he reach the street and he just keep running. The new Jordans was on, but he run so hard his foot start to shock him. He cross the road running, he jump over drain and keep running. The whip was in his hand still, lashing the air with every stride, but sometimes it hit his ear too—and the lash feel better than what Luther did just tell him.

  He loss his father again? Again?

  He run straight through the masjid gate. The guards give chase, bawling, “Aye! Wait! Wait!” He run till he reach the room where Brother Omar does always be. He grab the door handle; it didn’t turn, but he cling on and shake, shake, shake the door. The guards catch up; they scramble him and he start one big bawling and kicking and striking with the whip. He didn’t have nowhere else to go! Why they couldn’t understand that?

  “Behave your fuckin’ self!” one boy say. “Don’t let we have to shoot you!”