Bright Lights, Dark Nights

by Stephen Emond

  Naomi read one of the other comments. “My job is to protect the community, so every action I take should be viewed through that lens. I am serving us all.”

  “He almost sounds guilty,” I said, sitting up. I grabbed the marker and shoe and started coloring in some of the buildings on the sneaker, making them all black with white windows. Other buildings I left the other way for contrast. Her left shoe was going to look empty now, but her right one was decked out. “Who even talks like that?” I asked. “He’s going to get ripped apart. Why can’t parents just leave the Internet to us?”

  “My parents are on Facebook, too,” Naomi said. “It’s major drama in the Millses’ home. Jason won’t add them, so they were threatening to ground him, like he must be hiding something on there. Which, of course, he is.”

  “Your dad friend-requested me,” I said. “Should I add him? I didn’t know if that was weird or not. I probably shouldn’t, right?”

  “He’s kind of funny. You can add him,” Naomi said. “You’ll get a lot of requests to play games, though, heads-up.”

  I presented Naomi her shoe. “Hope I didn’t ruin it,” I said.

  “Come here,” Naomi said when she saw it. She pulled me in by my cheeks for a kiss. And her dad was in the doorway. Knock knock.

  “You know, I think there is a draft,” he said. “Maybe we need a doorstop to keep this thing open. Maybe we should just take it off completely…”

  And he left. “Your dad’s the best,” I said, and Naomi laughed.

  *

  EAST BRIDGE OFFICER BEING INVESTIGATED HAS HISTORY OF PROBLEMS

  Op-Ed by Barry Sharp

  THE EAST BRIDGE police officer at the center of the Basement burglaries case is Officer James Wilcox, who the regular readers of the news may be aware of already. All it took was a glance at Wilcox’s personnel file from the city to find a laundry list of earlier reprimands, which are very informative for his current and ongoing troubles.

  Nearly three years ago, we find Wilcox’s first suspension, one he did not fight and served a month of. The suspension was originally for two months. The suspension came about after an internal affairs investigation involving a neighbor who accused Wilcox of threatening him with his gun. In addition to the suspension, Wilcox was required to hand in his weapon when off duty for at least the following year. This is post-LEOSA, the Law Enforcement Officers Safety Act, enacted in 2004, which allows an officer of the law to carry a weapon at all times.

  Following that incident, Officer Wilcox was also under investigation for leaving a crime scene unattended. The fallout of this case has been obscured or covered up, and no penalty seems to have been handed out.

  Perhaps most telling of Wilcox’s character, and most influential on his current investigations involving the alleged “Basement Burglar,” Calvin Temple, is a report from only last year in which he referred to an African American man involved in an altercation as a “gorilla.” In a police department with a long history of problematic racial relations, that they still have officers calling black men gorillas is ridiculous to me. That they’re still on the street and adding to their extensive personnel files is even worse.

  “As far as I know, he made his apologies and no charges were ever filed,” Sgt. Peter Chandler, president of the East Bridge Police Union, said about the incident.

  There were five such incidents contained in the reports, but nearly all ended quietly or unclearly, presumably “swept under the rug.” How this case involving the Temple family turns out is anyone’s guess, though don’t be surprised if by this time next year, no one seems to remember a thing about it.

  “Who is this guy?” I asked Dad.

  Dad was freaking me out, slapping his palm against the table while he read the column. His face was red, his mouth was clenched shut. He paused a good few seconds before answering.

  “Barry Sharp,” Dad said with distaste. “Some dirtbag that made a name for himself off the Eric Garner ordeal. He’s a professor at the university, thinks he’s a civil rights leader, goddamn Martin Luther King. If it were up to Barry Sharp, we’d have a perfect color-blind utopia, and everyone would be immune to the law.”

  The article had been posted overnight on the news site and linked to on Facebook today. It’d run in the paper too, probably over the weekend. Dad hit the table again and let out a grunt.

  “Hey, forget I said that, Walter, all right?” Dad said. “This guy just pisses me off, that’s all.”

  I was looking at the article on my laptop while he was at the table on his. “Did you really threaten someone?” I asked.

  “What’s a threat?” Dad asked. “To me, if I pull a gun out, say I’m going to shoot you, that’s a threat. No. I had some words with that friggin’ neighbor; he took them to mean something. This was years ago. It’d been a misunderstanding. We cleared it up.”

  Seth. I didn’t even know this stuff. I didn’t really want to know.

  Dad slammed his laptop shut and went to his room. I wondered if this was what he was trying to Google himself over, if this stuff was the “social media image” maintaining he had to do. Maybe this is what he feared would make it go “viral.” I wondered if this could get worse still.

  Chapter Ten

  “All right, guys, sorry for the wait. Saturdays are busy,” our waiter said in an overly relaxed tone. “You want quick service, come in on a Tuesday around three—we’ll get you right in.” We followed him to our table.

  “Could you put down your phone and act like an adult?” Naomi asked, nudging her elbow into Jason. We’d been waiting for a table at the pizza place uptown for twenty minutes, and Jason had his cell to his nose for the duration of it. We slid into our booth, Naomi and me on one side and Jason and his date on the other.

  “I’m the oldest one at this table, Naomi,” Jason said, and put his arm around the girl he came with, Jessica Barnes. Small, thin, and, from what I could tell, very agreeable, as she smiled, laughed, or nodded to almost anything Jason said. Sitting next to Jason with her braided hair, they looked a little like Will and Jada Pinkett Smith.

  The double date was actually a favor for me. If there was a way to keep Jason from hating me, and especially from hating Naomi, I wanted to try it. We could still bring him in a little, help him feel like he’s a part of things. Naomi agreed after a few days of general household nastiness I was only partially privy to. Loud music, hallway snubs, the top secret meeting Jason held with their parents. She was concerned that if we didn’t do something, she was going to be ousted from the family.

  Dad had long ago stopped questioning my whereabouts. He even gave me some money to go out, his way of showing me everything’s fine and to let him worry about Calvin Temple and the case. I would gladly let Dad worry and take the money. I was going to have to get a part-time job soon if I was going to date Naomi. Anything we wanted to do cost money.

  “Thanks for coming out with us anyway,” Naomi said to Jason, dropping the attitude and remembering why we were here in the first place. “You know, I’m still your sister.”

  “And I’m still your friend,” I chipped in, not that anyone asked.

  “Aww,” Jessica said, with a smile and a head tilt, beaming for her guy. They were sitting closer together than Naomi and I were, their sides touching.

  “No, no aww,” Jason said, taken aback. “What is this, an intervention? I’m fine.” It was kind of intervention-like, taking Jason out and having him cornered, reassuring him he’s still loved. Knowing there’s a problem that needs to be fixed, Jason went right back to his phone.

  I watched a TV in the corner over Jason. It was turned to ESPN. Naomi and I should have come up with a plan first. Maybe we still could. We needed some talking points, or even an endgame. I wasn’t even sure what we’d consider a success or failure.

  One of the waiters stopped by our table. “Jason!” The waiter bumped fists with him. At least he was happy to see someone.

  “Hey, Reggie,” Jason said. “Can you give us a minute?
I’m with amateurs, so we still haven’t decided.”

  Reggie shook his head and left. I had nothing, no plan. We were officially winging it.

  “We should have gone to Giuseppe’s,” Naomi said once Reggie was out of earshot. “They have the thick crust.”

  The pizza places in East Bridge were in a constant war, so we always had that to talk about. There were Giuseppe’s and Angelo’s in the lead, but King’s Pizza, Pizza on Main, and Tony’s Place made sure the argument for best pizza never ended. We were in Angelo’s, known for their long lines, loud atmosphere, and ginormous pies.

  “Who likes thick crust?” Jason asked with his face crunched up. “They do the square pizza, too, I hate that stuff. Everyone knows Angelo’s is the best, and keep quiet with that stuff, you’ll offend someone. What do we want, anyway? You’re going to embarrass me again.”

  “Sausage, and peppers, and quit being negative, you’re annoying everyone,” Naomi said. I agreed with her choice. Sausage and peppers. Not just because I was dating her, but because I’d eat pretty much anything on a pizza.

  “That sounds good,” Jessica said, presumably about the pizza but maybe about Jason. She nodded and smiled at us.

  “Damn, get creative, this is Angelo’s,” Jason said. “They’ll put my car keys on a pizza if we ask for it. Bunch of amateurs, act like you’ve never been in a pizza place before.” He nudged Jessica and she smiled.

  “Well, since you don’t have a car, and that’s disgusting,” Naomi said, “we’ll do sausage and peppers.” I got her to come out here with Jason, but I guess asking for civility or kindness was too much.

  “Hey, Reggie,” Jason shouted to half the restaurant. “Half sausage and peppers, half pepperoni, and get us some Cokes.”

  “You got it, chief,” Reggie said, poking his head out to where we could see it.

  Jason laughed to himself. “Hey, remember that time Mom caught you playing dress-up?” Jason asked Naomi. He turned to me. “She wanted to try on makeup or something. She was, like, seven or eight, put so much on her face she looked like a prostitute or something. Bright red lipstick, like, caked-on eyeliner.”

  “Oh, you’re a makeup expert now?” Naomi asked, offended. I got why she was short with Jason, since he was short with her, too. Maybe he was worse. And he was being unrelentingly negative. “You don’t even want to talk embarrassing childhood stories, because you’ve got way more of them than I do.”

  Jason’s eyes widened for a split second. “What have you got?” Jason asked, not backing down. This double date was building high-speed momentum in the wrong direction. I had to remember to stop having such good ideas.

  “Two words: ‘My Humps,’” Naomi said, apparently referring to the Black Eyed Peas song about Fergie’s butt. “Jason actually pulled the family together for his one-man performance of freaking ‘My Humps.’ In front of Mom. Dad. Me. Alicia. I’ve got video—I could drop it on the Internet and kill your whole thing, Jason. No shame in your game, star child, like having Michael Jackson in our living room. ‘My Humps,’ top that.”

  Jessica leaned forward and burst out laughing. “That’s a good song, baby,” she said. Naomi leaned back and crossed her arms.

  “Yeah, I know it is,” Jason said to Jessica. “Walter, your girlfriend’s getting a little out of control, wouldn’t you say?”

  “My boyfriend backs me up a hundred percent no matter what, Jason, but thanks for asking,” Naomi said. Good to see they had this covered without me. I was good on the sidelines. I downed the rest of my root beer and signaled for another.

  “You want to air out dirty laundry, Naomi, it doesn’t get any dirtier than this,” Jason said, nodding. “Fifth grade, school bus.”

  “Jason, no!” Naomi shouted.

  “What’s wrong?” Jason asked. “Sound familiar? Naomi poops her pants, like, a block from school. They had to drop off all the kids and turn around and bring her dirty ass back home. They’re driving all the way to school with crap stink in the air, everyone trying not to throw up. Fifth grade—she was practically an adult! Mom and Dad were all freaked out, thinking we’d have to put her in adult diapers or homeschool her or give her up for adoption or something. Walter, you really don’t know what you’re getting into here.”

  Jason tilted his head, looking at Naomi.

  “I was sick, Jason,” Naomi said as Jason laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “And Mom and Dad were fine with it. I was sick! For, like, a week, jerk!” And to me, “He made up half that story!”

  Jason laughed and laughed, while Naomi and I waited for it to stop and Jessica chuckled along halfheartedly. Crossing the lines of comfort. Naomi looked furious as I patted her back. “It’s okay,” I said. “That was then. You were sick.”

  “Jason used to make superhero outfits for his teddy bears!” Naomi shouted. “Chopping up his own expensive shirts. Mom was so pissed. He was making masks for his ragged old bears. He had, like, twenty of them, too, probably still does. Mr. Cool Rapper, playing with his stuffed bears.”

  “So?” Jason shrugged. “So what? That’s cool. Superheroes are cool, teddy bears are dope, Mr. Foo Foo was the bomb. I’m a creative person, Naomi. You crapped your pants in front of a bus full of your peers. These are not the same thing. I got the worst one yet, even, and all you have is teddy bears and lady bumps, both cool. How’s this? I come home from school, our older sister is teaching Naomi how to kiss. How gross is that? Right? My baby sister and my older sister fake-kissing their arms and stuff in the living room.”

  “Teddy bears are cute,” Jessica said, in a desperate Hail Mary pass to turn a positive tide on this conversation. She held on to Jason’s arm like a koala bear.

  “You done?” Naomi asked Jason, her voice cold and flat. He shouldn’t have brought up Alicia. Jason was going for the jugular. If he was trying to turn me off to Naomi, it wasn’t working. She felt more real to me than ever. I took her hand in mine under the table.

  “Yeah, I’m done.” Jason chuckled to himself while his date smiled. Then he dropped the smiles and laughing and put on a serious face, locked in on Naomi for a second, and then on me. “Hey, I didn’t start this.”

  Our pizza arrived and Jason’s date and I dove in. I threw two slices on my plate and scooped up one. Food never tasted so good. Delicious diversion.

  “We didn’t start anything, either, Jason,” Naomi said. “We wanted to do something fun, hang out and show you it’s not the end of the world if Walter and I date. We’re still the same people. We can still hang out, not that we did before.” Naomi lazily took a small bite from her slice.

  “Let’s just put it all on the table,” Jason said, picking up a large slice. “I don’t think you two should be dating. At all. That’s not going to change.” Jason chewed on his pizza, waiting for a reaction. He didn’t have to wait long.

  “Good thing it’s not up to you, then,” Naomi said. She put down her slice and cut it with a knife and fork. She was relaxed enough to calmly cut up her pizza. She must deal with this stuff every day. It was too late for me, my face and hands were probably a mess already.

  “Forget the fact that you’re dating someone I used to be friends with,” Jason said. I rolled my eyes. “But why can’t you at least date someone black? I don’t agree with it.”

  “Jason, you dated a white girl,” Naomi said, a rising anger in her voice. She wasn’t going to tolerate him much longer, and he was persistent in digging his own hole. “You dated several of them, in fact. You dated Jenna Cranby for, like, three months.”

  “Yeah, and I learned from it,” Jason said, and put his arm around Jessica. Her eyes were fixed on the table. “I’m passing my knowledge on to you, grasshopper. You’re supposed to learn from me. Besides, Jenna was bad news. All Taylor Swift and Starbucks. Walter isn’t a real man, anyway. I know more than anyone.” His gaze rolled over to me, like, What are you gonna do about it?

  “Dude, come on,” I said. Stray shrapnel was flying everywhere and I got hit
. “We’re still friends, all right? I’m not looking for a fight here.”

  “So you date my sister behind my back, but you’re not looking for a fight, is that right?” Jason asked. “You don’t get to pick and choose your fights, buddy. Not always. Besides, you’re never looking for a fight—that’s why you aren’t a real man.”

  Naomi might have been used to this, but I wasn’t. If he was like this with everyone, he should really get his ass kicked.

  “What’s a real man, then?” Naomi asked. “What does a real man do? Get a new girlfriend every week?” And to Jessica, “No offense.”

  Jessica smiled weakly and looked down. Probably not the date with Jason she’d been expecting. If anyone was an innocent bystander in all this, it was she.

  “Walter’s way more of a man than you’ll ever be,” Naomi said. “I didn’t even want to do this! Walter’s the one who wanted to salvage your friendship. He’s the stand-up guy here. I just thought it would get you off our case if you saw how not-an-issue our relationship is.”

  “You guys care to take it down a notch? Put the weapons away,” Jason said with a casual smile. He could change moods and tones and facial expressions to fit whatever he was trying to get at the moment. Now it was a smugness, that we were getting too worked up as if he’d been calm all along. “All I’m saying is this gets the thumbs-down from me,” Jason said. “I’m entitled to my opinion.”

  “Well, tough titties to your opinion, Jason, because this is happening,” Naomi said, pushing her body into mine and cupping my face with her right hand. “Mom okayed it.”

  “I don’t care what Mom says,” Jason grumbled, and ate his pizza while his undeterred date put her hand on his shoulder. He always got his way. With his parents, with his dates, and he thought he’d get his way with me and Naomi, too.

  “How about a movie?” I asked. “Something where we don’t have to talk.”

  *

  We lost Jason and his date after the pizza, and that was for the best. Tension was released as soon as we got out of there, and by the time we got to the theater down the street, we were both in a decent mood again. Jason might be toxic for a while, but I had faith it would pass. We were friends. That had to mean something to him somewhere.