Keysha's Drama

by Earl Sewell

  “What’s in there?” I asked.

  “Go ahead and take a look,” he said. “I’ll be along once I finish re-covering the car. I don’t like dust getting on it.” When he said that I quickly realized that his old car meant a great deal to him. I walked over to the other door and opened it up. Inside was a small workshop. It was tidy and well organized. On the shelves were various containers of paint, wood stain, tools and other items used for building and repairing.

  “This is my workshop,” Jordan said as he entered the room.

  “You build stuff?” I asked.

  “I restore things,” he said. “Have you ever heard of the phrase, ‘one man’s trash is another man’s treasure’?”

  “No, I’ve never heard of the expression,” I lied to him. I don’t know why I did. I just did.

  “It means that what one person tosses away, another person may find value in.”

  “Was the old-time car someone’s trash?” I asked.

  “Yes, it was. The man who had it sold it to me for only a few hundred dollars. It was just sitting on his property rusting away. I had it towed here and over the course of about seven years I rebuilt it.” I was impressed but I didn’t let him know it.

  “So what do you build in here?” I asked.

  “I restore furniture that I buy at garage sales.”

  “You’re basically like the junk man who rides around in a raggedy pickup truck picking up everyone’s junk on the street,” I said as I found a way to identify with what he did. I could tell that he didn’t like my comparison because he didn’t respond to my comment. I wanted to laugh at him for being so sensitive but I didn’t. “Where do those stairs lead to?” I pointed toward the back of the room.

  “Come on, I’ll show you,” he said. I followed him through the work area and up the back staircase. When we got upstairs I was speechless at what I saw.

  “This is the apartment above the garage. I had it converted to a workout gym,” Jordan said as he flipped a few light switches so that I could take a better look. There were a number of machines positioned all around the room. There was a flat-screen television mounted on the far wall, and two treadmills were situated in front of the television.

  “Do you know who this is?” he asked pointing to a mural on the wall. The wall painting was a life-size portrayal of two boxers. One had knocked the other one down and appeared to be towering above him yelling down at the other man on his back.

  “That’s that boxer man,” I said, not remembering his name.

  “His name is Muhammad Ali. He’s fighting a man by the name of Sonny Liston. In this scene, Ali has knocked Liston down. Liston was the heavyweight champion at the time. Ali is yelling ‘get up’ to him.”

  “Why is he yelling at him?” I asked.

  “Because Liston knew that he couldn’t beat Ali so he tried to cheat by placing an eye irritant on his boxing gloves. So every time he hit Ali near his eyes, the irritation prevented Ali from seeing clearly. Once Ali’s trainers realized what was going on, they washed the irritant away and Ali went back out to whip Sonny’s behind.”

  “Oh,” I said as I walked up closer to the mural. “Who painted it?”

  “Your uncle did,” Jordan answered. I looked back at him and noticed that he was just watching my every movement. His sharp eyes made me nervous. He made me feel as if he was mall security or someone watching and waiting for me to steal something.

  “Don’t stand behind me like that,” I said, snapping at him.

  “Stand behind you like what?” he asked.

  “Like you’re waiting for me to break or steal something.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you feel that way,” he said.

  Next to the Muhammad Ali painting was a cabinet filled with track and field trophies.

  “Did you win these?” I asked.

  “No, actually most of them belong to my wife, Barbara. She was an exceptional high school and college track and field athlete. The three on the bottom shelf belong to your brother, Mike.”

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  “He’s out with his mother. They’ll be home in a little while. You’ll see him then.”

  I got tired of looking at the workout room and decided to walk back down the stairs.

  “Come around this way,” Jordan said, and I followed him around the side of the garage down a short brick path, which was lined with thick, neatly trimmed bushes. Once we got around the bushes I saw the in-ground swimming pool.

  “Do you know how to swim?” he asked.

  “No,” I answered.

  “Well, I can teach you how. It’s real easy once you get the hang of it.” I didn’t answer him, I just looked at how pretty the water was. “We’ll have to wait until next summer for swimming lessons though. I’m going to have to drain the pool for the winter next week.”

  We walked back down the short brick path past the garage and to the door at the rear of the house. I stepped inside and held the door open for Jordan. Upon entering he began talking.

  “We’ll start in the basement,” he said and I followed him down a few steps. To the right there was a door, which he opened. It was his office. His computer, desk and photos of various entertainers were hung on the wall. I walked in and looked at one photo of him and TuPac.

  “You knew TuPac?” I asked.

  “I wouldn’t say that I knew him but we’ve met before,” answered Jordan.

  “So what is that you do?” I asked.

  “I’m the executive vice president for Hot Jamz 104,” he answered.

  “That’s, like, the hottest radio station in the city,” I said, sort of excited about the possibility of getting to meet a famous entertainer.

  “Yeah, but our last rating has us as the number-three station in the city and I have to change that.”

  “Oh,” I answered, not fully understanding what he meant. We came out of the office and went toward the rear of the basement. It was a typical basement. Gray concrete floor and walls. There was nothing exciting about looking at the laundry shoot or the washer and dryer.

  “Over here, this is what I wanted to show you,” he said as he opened another door, which led to the greenhouse. I stepped inside and saw an array of potted flowers blooming along with another door which led inside.

  “It’s pretty,” I admitted and then turned and exited the room. I could tell that Jordan wanted to explain all of the flowers but I didn’t care about that.

  “I planted all of the flowers around the house,” he commented as we walked out of the basement. “Gardening is something I’ve always loved. Have you ever planted a seed and then nurtured it into a flower?”

  “No, and I really don’t care to,” I said with honesty. However, I suppose that my tone of voice made me sound rather snotty.

  “This is the family room,” he said as we walked out of the basement and up a few stairs. There was a large sectional brown leather sofa that looked huge enough to seat at least seven or eight people. At both ends of the sectional there were recliner seats. The oversize sofa even had cup holders and a compartment to keep ice cold. Another large flat-screen television was mounted on the wall along with a complete home theater system. He waited for a response from me, but I only nodded my head. From there we moved into the kitchen, which looked like it was out of a magazine. The refrigerator had a crushed icemaker, there was a center island where food could be prepared, and there was an abundance of cabinet and shelf space. From there it was on to the formal dining room. There was a beautiful wooden table large enough to seat eight people. The table was completely set but looked more like a display rather than a place to eat.

  “Follow me and I’ll show you to your room,” he said as he opened yet another door, which I thought was a closet but it was actually a staircase that led to the upper level of the house.

  “Damn, this is a big-ass house,” I blurted out my thoughts.

  “I’d prefer that you not use foul language. It’s not becoming of a lady,”
Jordan said, and I looked at him like he’d just lost his mind. I know that he didn’t call himself putting me in check, I thought to myself. The last thing he has the right to do is discipline me.

  “Whatever,” I said as I walked up the stairs. In my mind I didn’t see myself staying in this house for very long. I felt like I was intruding on his space anyway. When I reached the top landing there were three bedrooms and a bathroom up there. Grandmother Katie was coming out of the bathroom as we were about to turn and walk down the corridor toward the bedrooms.

  “Well, I see you two have finally made it up here,” she said with a smile.

  “I’m about to show Keysha to her room,” Jordan said. I followed him down to the last door, which was closed.

  “I think you should open it,” he said as he stepped aside. I placed my hand on the handle of the white door, gave it a twist and opened it up. I was completely taken aback by the size of the room. It was huge. There was a beautiful vanity dresser filled with all types of cosmetic products. There was a queen-size canopy bed with linen that matched the curtains, a desk and chair were near the window, as well as a stand that had a small television with a VCR and DVD player built into it.

  “I hope you like the room,” Jordan said.

  “Of course she likes it,” answered Grandmother Katie. To tell the truth I felt like I was more like an outsider than I’d ever felt before. It all seemed so fake to me, and I feared that at any moment someone would come and tell me that there was a big mistake and I wouldn’t be able to stay. So, in my mind, there was no sense in getting too comfortable, because I knew that dreams didn’t come true, and at some point either I’d run away or get mixed up in some juvenile-delinquent mess just like I was expected to.

  “Um, can I be alone for a moment?” I asked, turning to face Grandmother Katie and Jordan. Both of them had goofy smiles plastered on their faces. At that moment I felt as if I was the charity case of the century, and I didn’t like that feeling.

  “Sure, you can have some privacy, honey,” said Grandmother Katie.

  “Your brother will be home in awhile,” said Jordan. That was another thing that was peculiar to me. Jordan spoke so clearly and flawlessly. He didn’t sound anything like the men who hung around the empty lot near my old apartment building. He actually spoke like Carlton Banks from the program The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. “Barbara will be home later. We’re all going out for a nice family dinner tonight,” he announced, and I cringed at the thought of sitting at a dinner table with them.

  “I don’t have anything to wear,” I quickly said, confident that my excuse would get me out of having to go with them.

  “Look in the closet over there, honey. Some nice clothes have been purchased for you,” said Grandmother Katie, who still had a smile plastered on her face. I just knew that whatever they had purchased for me was all wrong. Old people have no sense of style, I thought to myself.

  “If you need anything, we’ll be down in the family room,” Jordan said before he and his mother walked out of the room and shut the door behind them.

  Chapter 13

  I just stood in the center of my bedroom for the longest time, afraid to touch anything. Once I found the courage to move within the space, I went over to the vanity and looked at the products there. It was filled with Proactive Solution skin-care products, cotton balls, Q-tips and an assortment of nail polishes and other makeup items. I opened the top left drawer and discovered it contained feminine hygiene essentials, which I had to admit I was in desperate need of. I went over and sat down at the desk in the room and stared out the window. My view was of the backyard. There was a large tree directly outside of my window that blocked part of my view of the garage and swimming pool. I don’t know how long I’d been sitting there but I was startled out of my trance by a knock at the door. I didn’t say anything, so the person knocked again. This time a little louder. I got up, moved to the door and opened it.

  “What’s up, son?” A young boy was at my door. He had caramel skin, a thin trace of hair on his upper lip and an athletic build.

  “You’re Mike, right?” I asked, trying not to laugh as I studied his appearance more closely. He had a white scarf wrapped around his head, which I assumed was more for fashion than it was for hairstyle. He had a Band-Aid positioned under his left eye, which made him look like a Nelly wannabe. He contorted his face and puckered his lips into an expression he considered to be thuggish, but it only made him look as if he were sitting on the throne with a bad case of constipation. He had on an oversize Akademiks T-shirt with matching Akademiks Armor jeans and a pair of Akademiks gym shoes.

  “What? You see something funny?” he asked as he crossed his arms across his chest and tucked his fingers in his armpits. He appeared to be attempting to flex his chest and arm muscles, but he didn’t have enough muscle to flex.

  “Boy, you are not hard, so don’t even try to act like you are some thug with a reputation and a criminal record.”

  “You don’t know me. You don’t know the things I’ve done. I’m a straight gangster. You’re in my world now.”

  “Well, you’re the first thirteen-year-old hardened gangster I’ve seen,” I said, thinking he was joking.

  “I’m going to be fourteen in a minute,” he said, making a gesture with his fingers. It was then that I realized he was serious about the charade he was putting on.

  “Whatever, fool,” I said and was about to slam the door in his face.

  “Girl, why are you hating on me? Is it because I’m so iced-out? Is it because of my grillz?” He smiled at me, and I peeked at his teeth.

  “That is not a grillz in your mouth, those are braces,” I said. “Who do you think you’re trying to fool? Your money is not long, and you are certainly not a baller.” I’d suddenly become annoyed with him. I studied him closely for another moment and could tell he was up to no good by the way he shifted his eyes from left to right.

  “Okay.” He lowered his voice to a loud whisper. “I may not be a baller or a thug but listen up, because I’m only going to say this once. If you want to get along up in here, all you need to do is stay out of my way, mind your own business and don’t be up in here trying to act like daddy’s little girl. Do you understand what I’m saying, son?” He stepped closer to me as if he wanted to knuckle-up and fight. I wasn’t afraid of his scrawny behind at all. I made a sudden move as if I were about to hit him and he flinched with fear.

  “Yeah, just what I thought. You’re just a little spoiled-ass punk!” I said with a vicious tone in my voice.

  “Well at least I don’t have a face that looks like pimple paradise. I mean, damn girl, did every zit in the nation take up space on your forehead?” Before I could stop myself, I swung at him. Mike saw the punch coming and quickly moved out of my reach.

  “Hey, you don’t want to throw down with me. I may not look like it, but I know how to fight,” he said as he backed away. I could tell that I’d scared him because his voice trembled.

  “You see that I’m not scared, don’t you?” I snarled at him, feeling a deep hate for him growing each second that ticked by. “Here is a word of advice for you, Chicken Little,” I called him out of his name. “You have to bring some ass in order to kick some ass. If you come at me sideways again, I will beat you down like a crackhead who stole my last two dollars.” I gave him the meanest, most threatening glare that my face could form. He didn’t say anything, only continued to back away. He went back to his room and shut his door. I went back inside my room and shut the door, as well. I didn’t feel good about being in this house at all, but until I could find a place to run away to, this would have to do.

  I decided to just chill in the room and pass the time by watching television. I was watching a movie called Save the Last Dance starring Julia Stiles. It was about this rich girl who lost her mother and then had to go live in the hood with her father. I suppose I identified with the movie because my situation was reversed. I had to move from the hood with my mother and live li
ke some stuck-up girl in the rich suburbs. The movie was excellent, and I enjoyed watching all the dance moves she and the other characters did in the movie. The movie was just about to reach its climax when I heard Jordan’s voice.

  “Keysha.” I didn’t answer him because I was trying to figure why it sounded as if he was in the room with me.

  “There is an intercom on the wall next to your closet door. Go over to it and press the ‘talk’ button to answer me.” I looked over at my closet door and noticed the intercom. I did as he instructed.

  “We’re going to be going to dinner in about a half hour, so start getting ready. We’re going to the Outback Steak-house so jeans will be the appropriate attire to wear.”

  Appropriate attire, I thought to myself. He sounds all nerdy.

  “Okay,” I answered him back and then sat back on the bed to continue watching my movie. I was dreading looking in the closet at the clothes my grandmother had picked out because I knew they’d be a throwback to the sixties or seventies. After the movie ended I opened the large walk-in closet and flipped the light switch.

  “Damn,” I spoke aloud. “This closet is big enough to put a bed in.” There were two dressers inside the closet along with plenty of shelf space for shoes and other accessories. There was also a large dressing mirror inside. The other thing that freaked me out was each drawer had a small label on it indicating what item of clothing was on the inside. I opened the drawer that said “jeans.” To my surprise, Grandmother Katie had pretty good taste. Inside were several pairs of Baby Phat blue jeans.

  “This is all right,” I said to myself as I opened up other drawers and located tops, underwear and other items. This entire change in my life was like magic. It was like living in a fairy tale, and it just seemed too good to be true. I matched up an outfit that was acceptable to me. I then went into the bathroom and got ready. About fifteen minutes later, I stood in front of my mirror fully dressed fussing with my hair because I was trying to make myself perfect, but my hair wasn’t cooperating. Months of neglect and bad styling decisions couldn’t be erased in a matter of seconds. I decided to put on my night hair scarf to cover it up just like Toya was so fond of doing. It would just have to do for now until I could get something done with it. I had butterflies in my stomach because I was about to go down and really meet Barbara, my stepmother, who made me feel very uncomfortable. I decided if she was going to be mean to me, then I’d be just as mean to her. I finally got my nerves in order and walked downstairs and into the family room where everyone was sitting and waiting on me.