by Marc Avery
When I left the library that night, all I wanted to do was have a drink and go to sleep.
As I rounded the corner, I saw a group of people in front of my house. I immediately thought something happened to my mother. I broke into a sprint. My heart shattered into a million pieces when I saw it—our belongings on the sidewalk displayed for everyone to see.
Whoever put our stuff outside didn’t bother putting it in boxes. Everything lay haphazardly on the sidewalk with our dressers and end tables. With watery eyes and a heavy heart, I pushed through the crowd and ran up the stairs to find a padlock and an eviction notice on our front door.
Feeling naked and vulnerable, I came back down the steps. “All of you need to mind your own fucking business!” I yelled at them before they all dispersed.
I had never felt more alone in my life. I called my mom’s cell after I noticed the missed calls from her. My cell phone had been on vibrate at the library.
“I’m so sorry you found out like this,” she said somberly.
My shoulders slumped as I sat on our steps. “What are we going to do now?” I blew out a frustrated breath.
“For now, we’re going to stay with Aunt Leslie.”
“That’s nice of her to let us stay there.”
“Yeah. She’s a lifesaver.”
“Yes, she is,” I said, smiling weakly.
“You still remember how to get here?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
After I ended the call, I went and searched through our stuff and found a loose trash bag. I stuffed the bag with family pictures. When I looked at a picture of me, my mother, and Senior in Ocean City, I thought of happier times. All of our family vacations. All of the times we went to the movies. All of our family game nights. Now, all of it was gone, and nothing would ever be the same.
The more I thought about our belongings, the more I didn’t want any of this stuff anymore. It represented the past, and I wanted to focus on the future.
I spared our home one last glance before I walked to the bus stop.
* * *
I took a bus and a train to get to Aunt Leslie’s apartment in North Philly. Abandoned buildings were scattered on her block. As I walked past the Chinese restaurant, there was a group of guys smoking. Weed smoke and fried shrimp lit up my nostrils.
Her two-bedroom apartment was on the third floor, and the hallway smelled like French fries and bleach.
Aunt Leslie answered the door smiling. She was a thick woman, and when she hugged me, she almost crushed me.
“It’s good to see you, but I wish it was under different circumstances,” she said.
“Me too, Auntie.”
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Aunt Leslie said and stepped away so my mother and I could talk.
I put the trash bag down by the closet and sat on the couch next to my mother. “How long can we stay here?” I asked.
“Leslie didn’t give me a timetable. We can stay here until we get back on our feet.”
“I hope we’re not here too long.”
“Me either, baby.”
“What are we going to do for money?”
My mother sighed. “Leslie is going to cover us as much as she can, and I’m waiting to hear back from a couple of jobs I applied to.”
“I’m playing the waiting game too with these jobs.”
“I’m prayerful that we will get the job calls sooner than later.” She touched my shoulder and smiled weakly.
I looked into her eyes. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to get a job. With Senior gone, I’m the man of the house, and I’m going to take care of you.”
“Baby, you don’t have to worry about me. You get a job and take care of yourself. Mama will be okay, and so will you. You hear me?”
“I hear you.”
I stood. “I’m going out for a walk to clear my head. I shouldn’t be gone long,” I said and headed for the door.
“Okay. If you go to the store, can you bring me back an iced honey bun?” she asked.
“Sure thing.”
When I got outside of the building, my cell phone rang. An unknown number popped up on my caller ID.
“Who this?” I asked.
“Hello, I’m Jessica from Phaedra’s Soul Food. I’m calling to see if you’re still interested in the position.”
“Yes, ma’am, I am.”
“Can you come in for an interview tomorrow morning?”
I smiled like the Grinch. “Absolutely.”
Initially, I planned to drown my sorrows with vodka. Now the drink would be celebratory.
October
I sat in the waiting area of Phaedra’s Soul Food restaurant waiting for the manager to show up. The vodka I drank earlier had me sweating like a whore in church. I looked at the walls and the ground and blew out nervous breaths. A soft voice called for me and broke me out of my trance.
“Mr. Porter.” The voice belonged to a thick, milk chocolate-skinned woman with the body of a porn star.
“Hello, ma’am,” I said politely. I tried my hardest not to stare at her cantaloupe-sized breasts.
“You don’t have to be formal with me, Anthony. Call me Phaedra.”
“Okay. I can do that.” I held the door open for her to pass through first.
Her tropical-scented perfume made me horny. She looked sexy in her revealing top and tight jeans that showed off her giant ass.
Inside her office, silver-framed pictures of her and other people who were mostly in suits covered her walls. Seeing how junky her office was, I knew she probably put a lot of hours in at the restaurant.
“I read over your application and nothing jumped out at me right away . . .” She paused.
Remaining professional, I looked her in the eye and listened closely.
“However, the ideal candidate paragraph you wrote showed me your passion. You’re excellent with words, sir.” She smiled and showed two perfect rows of teeth.
I goofily smiled back at her. “Thank you very much.”
“The job is yours if you want it.”
“When do I start?” I asked eagerly.
“Next Tuesday.”
* * *
After I left my job interview, I went back to Aunt Leslie’s feeling like I hit the lottery jackpot. As soon as I got into the apartment, I broke into a silly dance. Being able to make my own money made me feel like a man. This was the first step toward helping my mother get back on her feet. If I did some OT, maybe I could save up enough money, and we could find a cheap apartment of our own.
My mother came out of the kitchen and smiled when she saw me clapping and spinning around.
“Boy, what are you doing?” she asked and walked over to me.
“I got a job today.”
My mother’s eyes grew wide with excitement, and she high-fived me. “Congratulations, baby.”
“Thank you, Mom.”
We sat on the couch.
“Where are you going to be working at?”
“Phaedra’s Soul Food.”
“Now, I know I can get me a discount, right?” she asked and laughed.
“Of course,” I said, grinning.
“Look, baby, I’m going to go and take a nap. If you get hungry, there’s chicken fingers in the freezer.”
“Okay.”
She made a beeline for the bedroom.
I got on Aunt Leslie’s laptop and edited one of my screenplays. When it got dark outside, I stopped typing and decided to go to the basketball courts.
Once I got on the avenue, I bought a bag of cheese curls and a Red Bull from the corner store.
The block was lively. Two shapely women argued while a man stood in between them grinning. Farther down the street, a skinny black man with a raggedy beard was hawking bootleg cologne and perfumes. As I went to cross the street, a guy on a dirt bike zoomed by me popping a wheelie.
A few blocks later, I finished my cheese curls and Red Bull and stepped on the blacktop like I belonged there.
I stood near the gate with a few other spectators.
A white guy complained to another player about picking a final teammate to play with.
Seeing my opportunity, I walked up on the group of players unannounced and said, “I’ll play.”
“Did I ask you to play?” the white guy asked and got in my face.
I looked him in the eye and smirked. “You scared or something, chump?” I taunted him, and the people on the court showered him with oohs!
Unexpectedly, he hit me in the stomach with the ball, knocking the wind out of me.
“Watch your mouth when you come on my court, bro,” he said with cold eyes and a harsh tone.
I caught my breath after a few moments. “Stop being a bitch and check the rock up.”
Soon as we got into the flow of the game, I knew they played dirty. That was right up my alley. I pretended everybody on the other team was Senior. I made sure to be ultra-aggressive. When I got the chance, I swung my elbows at their faces and tripped them when they came in the paint.
The white guy who threw the ball at me hugged me on defense. I hit him with my shoulder and elbowed him in the jaw. As his head whipped back, I drove the lane and made the game-winning shot on a layup off the backboard. Claps and cheers rained down on me. I felt like King Kong.
I smirked, flung the basketball at the gate, and strolled toward the exit. Someone approached me from behind. On the defensive, I turned around and pushed him in the chest. I was ready to fight somebody.
The white guy put his hands up defensively. “I come in peace, bro.” He stuck out his hand.
“I’m sorry, man.” We shook hands. “I’m Anthony, by the way.”
“I’m Paul. And I didn’t mean any disrespect by what I said earlier. I got caught up in the competition out there.”
“Trust me, I understand.”
“I can’t remember the last time I lost to anybody. You got some skills, bro. You most definitely held your own out there.”
“Maybe we can do the best two out of three next time,” I said and smiled.
“Definitely, bro.” Paul threw the basketball to one of the players on the court. “Take my number so we can link up.”
I punched his number into my cell phone.
“Good meeting you, man,” I said.
“Same here, bro.”
We shook hands again and went our separate ways.
Maybe living with Aunt Leslie wouldn’t be so bad after all.
December
Working at Phaedra’s was dope because my coworkers helped me through my adjustment period, and they were good people. My official job title was floater because I floated between tasks. So far, I had greeted and seated customers, prepped the food, shopped for food, taste tested the food, cleaned the bathroom, swept the main floor, washed the dishes, and I helped Phaedra lock up at night sometimes.
After work, I came off the El train around 6:00 p.m. and walked to Aunt Leslie’s apartment. To fight off the bitter cold outside, I zipped my winter jacket up to the top and pulled my hat over my ears.
Once I grabbed the mail out of the mailbox, I went inside and put the envelopes on the dining-room table. I took my hat and coat off and sat at the computer.
Since I finally finished with my screenplay edits, I created a cookie-cutter Web site that would showcase my work. For two hours, I researched agents’ e-mail addresses, Web sites, phone numbers, and pitch-session opportunities.
There wasn’t a pitch-session opportunity in my area until next year, so I stuck to sending out specs to people in the film business that looked legit and had a working e-mail address.
After I finished my research, I lay on the couch and eventually fell asleep. Unfortunately, my mother woke me up when she came in the house.
I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Yes, it is,” my mother said and smiled.
“What’s up then?”
“Senior sent us a check for $3,000.” She smiled so hard I thought her teeth would crack.
The mention of his name made my chest swell up with anger.
We hadn’t heard from him since he abandoned us. I called and left him so many voice mails, I lost count. After a while, he disconnected his phone number. I even went to his job, and his manager told me he quit. No matter what, my mother and I deserved some closure.
“We don’t need that coward’s money,” I yelled and jumped off the couch.
“You need to calm down,” my mother yelled back.
“I’m sorry if I don’t share your same level of enthusiasm,” I said sarcastically.
“Contrary to popular belief, we do need his money if we eventually want to move out of here.”
“I’ll work OT and save up for us to move. We don’t need anything from him.”
“And your minimum-wage job is going to help us do that?” she asked in an icy tone.
“At least I have a job.” I matched her pettiness.
She shook her head. “You must’ve fell and bumped your head.”
“I didn’t bump anything. We been here a few months, and I don’t see much job progress on your part.”
She stepped closer to me. “I won’t have you disrespecting me.”
“I’m not disrespecting you. I’m telling you the truth. I’m not a slacker like you are.”
“You’re treading on thin ice, boy.”
“Whatever. I think you need to focus on getting a job instead of being hyped about a handout.”
“Senior is at least trying to right his wrongs, and we’re getting the money we deserve.”
“Fuck him and fuck his money. I can’t be bought, but I see you can.”
She slapped me so hard my lip split and started bleeding.
I touched the blood on my lip and looked at her in disbelief.
“I’ve dealt with the BS from Senior, and I won’t deal with it from you too.”
I gave her a death stare before I stormed out of the house. Our disagreement let me know just how messed up things were. All I wanted was to feel a sense of normalcy again.
I guess deep down, I just wanted Senior to come back instead of him writing us checks.
March
Three months later, my mother and I found a new spot back in West Philly. Wasn’t as nice as our old house, but it was comfortable, affordable, and I had more space in my bedroom.
I would always be thankful to Aunt Leslie for helping us get back on our feet. Out of the kindness of her heart, she made her home our home. I was sad when we left.
In the last three months, Senior sent us over $9,000 in checks. Although I didn’t want his help, he did enable us to move into our own space. I wasn’t thrilled about it, but I learned to appreciate the man’s gesture.
When he sent us letters, he never put his return address on them, and all the letter would say is “I’ll send more next month.” A part of me wanted Senior to man up and call us or at least tell us where he lived.
It burned my soul that, by virtue of his monthly checks, he still controlled our household. I wasn’t making enough money yet, and it pissed me off that I couldn’t take care of us.
My mother seemed to be happy, and I didn’t want to rain on her parade, but I would feel much better when she got her own job.
I turned eighteen in our new house, and I hadn’t made any plans other than opening up a checking and savings account.
I went into the kitchen and was surprised to find eggs, potatoes, and bacon waiting for me in the microwave. When I went back to the dining room, I found a blue envelope lying on the dining-room table. I rubbed my hands together in anticipation.
When I opened the birthday card, $200 fell out. The message inside the card read:
Try not to spend it all in one place
Love, Mommy
I thought it would be cool to have a girlfriend to spend this money with. Hadn’t really had time for a relationship or the desire since my mother and Senior were in the middle of their drama. Who wants to bri
ng someone special into that mess? Besides . . . I’m not really experienced with girls per se.
No sooner than the thought left my mind, my boy Paul called and said he was on the way over. I complained that I wanted to chill, but he was having none of it. Within twenty minutes, I was dressed, on the street, and ready to hang out with him.
After some more basketball games and a few trips to Dave & Buster’s, Paul and I became real tight. What made us connect even more were our personal losses. Neither of our fathers were in our lives. Paul’s loss went deeper than mine. His father, a war veteran, had a severe case of PTSD and was prescribed medicine to help him cope. Unfortunately, he went off of his meds and ended up killing his wife and himself.
We weren’t just friends. I considered him family.
Plus, he was older than me, so I enjoyed the stories he told me about his life experiences, especially with girls. He told the best stories.
I looked up to him. At twenty-two years old, he owned his own vehicle, had a dope apartment in University City, and worked as a personal trainer.
I aspired to have my shit together like he did.
Before I left the house, I checked the Yahoo! e-mail app on my phone to see if any agents had e-mailed me. Unfortunately, I had a bunch of e-mails that said, “This isn’t right for us at this time.”
Those e-mails had been the norm for the last couple of months. Despite the rejection, I vowed to keep on pushing. I shook the negativity off and focused on having a good time on my birthday.
When I got outside, I hopped in the passenger seat of his gray Ford Explorer, and we shook hands.
“Let me tell you how this girl tried to play me last night.” He went right in.
“What happened now?” I asked, excited to hear his story about a woman.
“She said she don’t sleep around on the first night. I told her I don’t pay for food or the movies on the first night, either. Needless to say, she let me hit by the end of the night,” he smirked.
I shook my head. “So, being a dick really works with women, huh?” I was stunned because I thought being a gentleman got you the girls.