by Tracy Brown
Ingrid put her magazine down, and kept looking over the rim of her glasses at her son, her arms folded across her buxom chest. “What’s on your mind, Marquis? What’s the matter with you tonight?” She looked at his helpless expression, and was sincerely worried. Her son was a warrior. Never had she seen Marquis look this sick about a situation, not even at his own father’s funeral. “Is this about Leo?”
Born shrugged his shoulders. “Is it? I don’t know. It might be. It might be all about him in some strange way. It’s like he’s here all over again, and I feel let down all over again.”
His mother looked confused. “What are you talking about, boy?”
“Ma!” Born didn’t know why he was yelling at his mother. He checked himself, and lowered his voice. “I gotta understand why this shit keeps fuckin’ up my life.”
His mother nodded, trying to help him out. “Well, first of all, stop cursing so much in here.” She lit up a cigarette, and blew the smoke out. “Now start at the beginning. What happened tonight?”
Born looked at his mother, and she smiled softly, encouraging him to tell the story. This wasn’t easy for him. Ingrid had only met Jada once, and she had seen the love in her son’s eyes instantly. She could tell by the way he looked at Jada, and by how playful he was with her, that he was smitten. As long as Jada was OK with Marquis, she was okay with Ingrid. But now he had no idea how his mother would react to this news. “Jada’s smoking that.” He motioned toward the coffee table.
Ingrid looked at the crack on the table, and then she looked at her son. She shook her head, as if that would make what he’d just said untrue. No. This couldn’t be happening, she prayed. Now she understood his anguish. First his father, and now his girlfriend. She shook her head in pity. Shock registered on her face. “Oh, my God, Marquis.”
Born was so upset. “I found out tonight, but I think I kinda knew all along. I didn’t want to believe it. But tonight I set a trap, and she walked right into it. She was stealing from me, and getting high behind my back. I can’t believe it. But then, at the same time, I wonder how I didn’t see it all along. I can’t be with her no more, Ma. But my heart is broke, and I wanna just… hurt somebody. Word! I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. But I can’t imagine me being with her another second. She’s weak, and she’s useless …”
“Now, wait a minute, Marquis,” Ingrid scolded. “You can’t be so quick to say who’s weak and who’s useless. You have to look at it both ways. If you think a crackhead is weak or useless, then you’re saying that your father was weak and useless, and I’m not gonna let you sit in here and talk bad about your father.”
Born let her have her say, because he hadn’t meant to upset her. He didn’t want to argue about what Leo was or wasn’t. He wasn’t there for that. He was there because he needed help with his shattered heart, which he held in fragments in his hands.
Ingrid continued. “You gotta get the cold out your own eye, before you go and tell somebody else they got some shit in theirs.” Born started to protest her using the four-letter word, when she had just told him to stop cursing. But Ingrid cut him off. “I’m grown! I can curse as much as I want.”
Born wanted to remind her that he was grown too, but he held his tongue. He shook his head in frustration, and let her have her say.
Ingrid continued. “Anyway, you’re out here selling that mess, Marquis. You can’t judge people for being weak and useless if you make your living off of those same people. That makes you a hypocrite. It makes you guilty of taking advantage of people who are weak and useless for your own personal gain. Think about it, Marquis. You felt so sad when your father died. You feel sad right now, knowing that Jada is using the same poison. But you’re out there selling that poison to folks night and day. You’re making sure somebody else’s child, somebody else’s husband, somebody else’s friend remains weak and useless.”
Born couldn’t take it anymore. “You never complained before, Ma!” He was trying to be as delicate as possible. But it was getting hard to hear this lecture from the very person who had helped him spend so much of his drug money. “I know what you’re saying is true, but—”
“I’m not sitting here and saying that I’m not guilty of my own sins. I know I didn’t exactly demand that you stop doing what you were doing. That’s something I regret to this day. But that’s my point. All of us have sins. We all have our weaknesses. Don’t judge people so harshly for theirs, because you’ll be judged just as harshly for your own.”
He nodded his head. He knew she was right. He had always seen his own ability to play the game as proof that he had it all figured out. He wasn’t strung out on anything. In fact, Born had never used any drugs other than a little weed every now and then, a drink or two on occasion. He was on the right side of the game, as far as he was concerned. He was getting money, making moves. And he didn’t look at it like he was preying on anybody’s weakness. The money was out there. If he didn’t go out and get it, someone else would. He saw no reason to feel guilty, when the crackheads made a choice to get high. That was his problem with Jada, with his father. They had both made a decision to get high, and they couldn’t find the strength to stop getting high. Not even for his sake. Not even for the love he felt toward them.
“How long has she been using?” Ingrid asked. Born described Jada’s history with drug abuse briefly to his mother, sparing her the grittiest details, about her selling her body. Ingrid sat back when he was done, and stared at him. Born wondered if his mother thought he was a fool. He guessed that Ingrid thought he had been dumb to get involved with a former addict in the first place. But she didn’t think that at all. Ingrid was thinking about how she had also ignored the signs of Leo’s drug use, how she had tried to block it out. She listened to Born tell her how he had thought Jada was really through with drugs when he met her. Ingrid remembered feeling that Leo could also be strong enough to let go, only to be let down again and again when he went right back to crack.
She thought back to when she had first realized that Leo was smoking. Finally, after several minutes of silence, she spoke. “Your father started using cocaine when you were little,” she said. “Maybe eight or nine years old. I heard the rumors, saw the signs and all that shit. But I didn’t want to know.” Ingrid paused. “I knew that Leo was gettin’ high. Him and his crew would come in here and get higher than the sky just about every night. I knew about that. I didn’t fuss about it, because I knew that was part of Leo’s package. He was maintaining. He had it under control. Leo was who he was, either love him or leave him. And I loved him.” She sighed, and looked at her son, who was sitting and soaking up her every word, her body language, and all. Listening to her, he wondered how she had been able to love her husband despite his addiction. He knew he wouldn’t be able to love Jada despite hers.
She looked at him. “Leo was a good man. He had good intentions. He loved you, Marquis. He really did. When he was doing good, we had the best of everything. His habit was something he seemed to have control of in the beginning. But when he started struggling, I could feel it. I felt like he wasn’t telling me something. Something changed between us. Then the money started slowing up.” Ingrid puffed her cigarette. “I always worked. Leo was into so many different hustles that we had to account for some legitimate money—some legal sources of income. So I always had a job. Plus, I always knew it was important to have my own. Even Leo stressed that to me. He always encouraged me to work, to have my rainy day money ready. And I listened. I kept me a job.” Ingrid grinned, slightly. “I had to start hiding money, so that Leo wouldn’t know what I had. He didn’t steal from me. But if he knew there was money laying around, he would definitely want to smoke it up. And if I refused to give him the money, we would fight all night. So I hid it. I kept my own stash that he knew nothing about. Nobody knew about it. It wasn’t much—just a couple of hundred dollars. But it was something for a rainy day that he didn’t know about. That was always something I maintained.” Ingrid thought to
herself that this was yet another lesson that Leo had taught her. Life with Leo was one big lesson; he taught her how to drive, how to navigate the hood, and how to be his better half. He had also, unknowingly, taught her how to hide assets, and how to conceal money. He had been quite a teacher.
“Leo had a bad heart. He was getting a disability check on the first of every month, and he would always give me half of it up front. But then he was disappearing for a few days, until he smoked up the other half. All along, his disability check was steady, but for as long as I knew Leo, he was always coming through with extras, money always trickled in. But soon that stopped. That’s when I had to pick up the pieces. I tried to keep you occupied so you wouldn’t notice. But you started asking questions, and it got harder to hide. That let me know right away that something was causing him to lose his grip. He had never been so sloppy. I didn’t admit it to myself at first, Marquis. At first, I convinced myself that it was another woman. I told myself that Leo was shacking up with some other bitch, that he was spending his money on someone else. But that wasn’t it. Soon, I had to admit to myself that it was more than that. Leo got arrested for buying crack from an undercover when you were small. He did about eighteen months for that. I made excuses, told you he was down south with his family ‘cause his uncle was sick. Just all kinds of lies.”
Ingrid shook her head, wishing she had known how inevitable it was for Leo’s promise to stay clean to come crashing down. “Leo came home, and went right back to his old ways. People saw him around the other buildings, looking a mess, spaced out. He wouldn’t do his dirt in our building, because it would get right back to me. So he went to the other buildings to get his shit. I knew about it. I just kept on going. Just kept trying to keep it all together. For you.”
Born listened to his mother. “How did you handle it?”
Ingrid shook her head, dismayed. “I didn’t handle it at all. I ignored it. When Leo did come around, I would pretend I didn’t know. I would act like everything was okay.” Born watched his mother pause, appearing to fight back tears. “I was so impressed by your father, Marquis. He taught me so much. I learned more from him than from anybody else in my lifetime. He showed me how to read people, how to see through bullshit. I felt like he was the smartest man I had ever met, like he was invincible. I knew him so well that I could complete his sentences. I loved him. I watched him. So when he started slipping, I saw it right away. He thought he had his addiction under control, kept telling me it was alright. It was no big deal. And I wanted to believe that. I wanted to believe that he would pull himself together and get right back on track. He was still making money. But he was smoking it now. After a while, Leo was no longer respected like he used to be. But by then, I didn’t have the heart to put him out, or to leave him. It got to the point where I really didn’t care anymore. I was past all that.” She stopped talking. Thoughts ran through her mind about how she would have done things differently if she could have. How she wished that she could have those days back once more, so that she could pull her husband back from the clutches of his addiction. Deep inside Ingrid wished she could have reached Leo before it was too late.
Born remembered his father being strung out. He remembered the point in time when Leo began to lose the respect of all the folks who once had bowed to him.
“We never really talked about all this before,” Ingrid continued. “I guess it was so much a part of our life that we didn’t address it at the time.” She looked at her son, thought about the twists and turns his life had undergone after being exposed to all the activities within the four walls they called home. She wanted to help him deal with the devastating news he’d just found out about the woman he loved.
“You need to talk to her, Marquis. You need to find her some help—”
“Nah, Ma. She has to go! I can’t be with her for one more night. I don’t want to see her, I don’t want her in my house—”
“You can’t put the child out in the street!”
“Why not? She knew! She knew about Pop and how I felt about him using it. She swore she wouldn’t use that shit again. Yo, she stole from me. She stood there and watched me beat a nigga’s ass for stealing, when she knew all along it was her that stole from me!”
Ingrid shook her head, knowing there’s no low too low for a crack addict.
Born shook his head, and stared at the floor. “I can’t trust her. I got niggas laughing at me.” Born sat and shook his head, in internal agony. He sat like that for a long while, and Ingrid searched for the right words to comfort him.
She sighed, bringing Born out of his reverie, and back to their conversation. “Ma, I’m so mad at her that if I see her, I might hurt her.”
Ingrid nodded. She understood. But she also understood something else that her son seemed to be missing. “I know you’re angry with Jada,” Ingrid said. “But I think a big part of what you’re feeling right now is anger toward your father that you never let go of.” After she said it, her words hung in the air, resounding with truth.
Born shrugged his shoulders, as if to dismiss what she was saying. But as silence enveloped them, he thought about it, and realized that there might be some logic in Ingrid’s statement. He looked at her, and he realized she was right. Born had never been good at talking about his emotions. Even now, with his own mother and the eyes of the world averted, he got choked up at the thought of discussing what he had kept bottled up for so long. Looking at his mother’s calm eyes and warm expression, he was comforted. And he said, “I got a lot of questions for him, Ma. You know what I’m saying?”
Ingrid nodded, and Born pressed on. “I just been thinking about him a lot. Thinking about how he died, and all that. I miss him.” Born looked away from his mother. “But I’m still a little mad at him, too.” Having said that, he felt like a weight was lifted off of him for the first time. He wondered what it would feel like to unburden everything. “Word. I think a big part of me feels like he let us down. He gave up too easy. Gangstas don’t go out like that.”
Ingrid understood this. She knew that Born had been carrying around more pain and resentment than he should. Knowing that he was a proud young man, who liked to believe that he had everything under control, she had allowed him to try and shoulder that burden for as long as he was able. Now, she realized, he was ready to let her help him. She smiled, happy he was letting her do that. “Tell me what you haven’t been saying,” she said. “You gotta let this go, once and for all.”
Born looked at his mother for a long time, unsure where to begin. Her round brown face was as familiar to him as his own voice. She had always been the yin to his father’s yang, the other half of the whole. And now, just as it had always been, all they had was each other.
He began to talk to his mother—about everything. He told her how hurt he’d been watching his father kill himself with drugs. He talked about the pain he was feeling after finding out that Jada had succumbed to the same weakness. They talked for hours that afternoon. Hours that would normally have been spent going about the daily routine of life were instead spent putting a salve on old wounds that had been left on their own for too long. But perhaps most surprising to Born was the fact that he found himself getting a little choked up when some memories came flooding back. Seeing her son still too tough to cry broke her heart into a thousand pieces. When Leo died, Born had never shed a tear—not at the funeral, or in the days and months following it. He had found it impossible to cry for his dad. And even now, he didn’t want to cry. But Ingrid and her son talked some more. They reminisced about the old times—both good and bad. And sitting there in his father’s chair, talking to his favorite girl, Born cried for Leo Graham at last. And he faced the fact that, despite all the many roles he played in the lives of so many people, in reality, at his core Born was still just a scared little boy who missed his father.
Ingrid watched Born, understanding just what he was feeling. And she wished there was some way she could take all his pain away. She saw that her son’
s heart was broken, and knew he was finished with Jada. When they finished talking, and pulled themselves together, she tried to say something more in Jada’s defense, but Born wouldn’t hear it. He felt like he had been made to look like a clown, and he didn’t like it. He wouldn’t stand for it. Ingrid wasn’t defending Jada’s actions. But she knew that Born loved her. And she knew that Jada needed help. But looking at Born, she realized that he also needed help. Her heart broke for him, and she sighed. “What can I do to help you, Marquis?”
Born looked at his mother, and felt a little twinge of hope at last. She listened as he told her what he had in mind.
After talking with Ingrid for a little while longer, he left her house, knowing that he wasn’t going home. He didn’t want to see Jada. Not now, that’s for sure. Born walked through the apartment complex, headed for his truck, parked in the lot. He felt like a whole ton had been lifted from his shoulders since his conversation with his mother. He missed Leo Graham, missed the man that he was before the drugs got ahold of him.
He climbed into his ride and sat back, the keys still in his hand and not in the ignition. He sat like that for a long time, once again thinking of his father and the days he’d smoked his life away. He started his car, and drove off down Richmond Terrace. His father’s voice was as clear as a bell in his ears: “Do what you can, young man, “Leo used to always tell his son. It was a phrase that Born had never been able to forget, something his father always used to tell him. But he felt that Leo had never done all that he could have to be the father that Born had needed, the father that he still needed now. Born was sick of feeling the disappointment, sick of holding in his anger. Without thinking about it, he drove toward the expressway, and headed for the cemetery where Leo had been interred years prior. It was time for him to have a conversation with his father.