Tyrell Read online

  “You sure you don’t want me to wait downstairs?” I ask her. “’Cause I ain’t looking to cause no trouble or nothing.”

  The door open and Emiliano is standing there in sweatpants and a T-shirt. He ain’t what I pictured neither. Emiliano gotta be forty at least. He kinda on the short side for a guy, and he thick like one of them dudes that be lifting weights everyday. He kinda diesel.

  Emiliano give Jasmine a quick hug, then he talk to her in Spanish and I hear him say “Reyna.”

  Jasmine say something, and the funny thing is, I can tell she lying, even in Spanish, ‘cause her voice get a little higher and she move her hands a lot more. She ain’t as good at lying as Novisha is.

  Then, finally, Jasmine introduce me to Emiliano, still in Spanish. Me and him shake hands, then we all go in the apartment, and, man, all I gotta say is, Jasmine was living good before Bennett.

  Emiliano got his crib hooked up. Leather furniture, home theater with a flat-screen TV, audio system with surround sound speakers. And on the walls he got big pictures of him and Reyna, the kind you get done at Sears, and one of Jasmine in a white cap and gown, probably from her middle school graduation. And the whole apartment is real neat and clean. Shit. No wonder Jasmine want her sister to get back with this dude.

  “Tyrell,” Emiliano say in a thick accent. “Sit down.” He look like he struggling to think how to say something else. Then he just give up and turn to Jasmine and ask her something in Spanish.

  “He wants to know if you want something to eat or drink,” Jasmine say. “He only knows a little English, and sometimes he gets embarrassed if he pronounces a word wrong, especially when he’s around people he doesn’t know yet.”

  “Um, you can tell him that I’m a’ight.” I give Emiliano a little thank-you nod. Then I sit down on the leather couch, and it’s so soft I could just chill here all night. The TV is on, but it’s on some Spanish news channel. Not that I care. I don’t need nobody to tell me how fucked up this city is.

  Jasmine and Emiliano go to the kitchen and sit down at the table. I can hear “Reyna” over and over, and Jasmine is lying and lying, talking so much junk. I gotta say, it look like Emiliano real worried ‘bout getting his woman back.

  After a while I can’t figure out what they talking ‘bout no more ‘cause I ain’t learn shit in ninth-grade Spanish, that’s for damn sure. I only understand one word here and there. I hear Jasmine say something ‘bout restaurante, so I guess she telling him ‘bout the waitress job she trying to get. Emiliano don’t seem all that into it though. He telling her something ‘bout escuela, like he don’t want her getting no job if she ain’t gonna have no time for her schoolwork. He trying to look out for her, like he her father for real. He do care ‘bout her.

  When Jasmine go to her room to get her dance outfit, Emiliano come over to me and hand me a small bottle of Malta. I seen Malta forever in them bodegas, but I ain’t never tasted it before. And, to be honest, I don’t really wanna taste it now. But when I try to turn it down, Emiliano just smile and say, “No. Try.”

  The bottle cap is off already, so I drink some and, man, it taste like cold piss. Damn, that’s some nasty-ass shit. I try to smile so he don’t think I’m being rude or nothing, but my smile probably make me look like a mental patient, ‘cause all I really wanna do is gag.

  Emiliano laugh and say, “Drink and you get, uh, you get use to it.”

  “Nah, I ain’t never gonna get used to that.” I’m kinda laughing too, but I still can’t get the taste out my mouth. “You got water? Agua?”

  He nod and I follow him to the kitchen. He hand me a bottle of water, and I’m, like, shit, tap woulda been good enough for me. I drink the whole bottle in one shot, and he stand there still laughing at me. “You funny,” he say. “You keeping drink Malta. You like it.”

  I shake my head.

  “You wanting coffee cakes?” He open one of the cabinets and he got all kinds of little donuts and cakes and shit in plastic wrappers.

  Jasmine come back with a small duffel bag. “Don’t let him give you no bread or coffee cakes,” she say. “He’s always trying to give away all the bread and cakes he brings home from work.” She turn to Emiliano and probably tell him the same thing in Spanish, and they start laughing.

  But he don’t listen neither. Next thing I know, he packing up a loaf of bread and a whole bunch of cakes in a plastic shopping bag. “Take this,” he say to me. “Sweet and very good. You like.”

  “Gracias,” I say. I ain’t never heard of the brand of bread he got, but it’s a Spanish name, so that’s probably why. And them cakes do look kinda good too. I know my moms is gonna like them. She love her some donuts.

  Before we leave, Emiliano pull out his big calendar and remind Jasmine ‘bout her appointments coming up. Whatever he say to her, Jasmine act real surprised. She even give him a big hug. Then he ask her something and the only word I understand is Sabado. Saturday. Jasmine tell him sí, and then we walk to the door. Me and Emiliano shake hands and, I gotta say, from what I see, he alright.

  Emiliano reach in his pocket and hand Jasmine three twenties. Nice. They hug again and we leave, her with sixty dollars and a duffel bag. Me with a plastic bag of bread and cake. I ain’t complaining.

  “Why you ain’t ask him if you could move back?” I ask Jasmine when we down in the lobby.

  “I know him,” she say. “He’s not gonna let me stay there without Reyna. It’s not gonna look right, him there alone with a teenage girl.”

  “What he say ‘bout Saturday?”

  “He’s off on Saturdays, and he asked me to go to lunch with him at this diner all three of us used to go to every Saturday.”

  “You gonna go?”

  “Yeah. I think he wants to talk and make sure I’m okay. And you know what, he’s still gonna pay for the dermatologist and orthodontist. I only have six more months ‘til these braces come off.” She smile.

  “He a nice guy,” I tell her. “Why Reyna don’t wanna be with him no more?”

  “She thinks he’s too controlling because he doesn’t let her go to no parties or clubs. And my sister likes to wear short skirts and low-cut tops, but he doesn’t like that. He wants her to be a classy lady. Like me.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  She start laughing. “You don’t think I’m classy?”

  Before I can say anything, my phone ring and I know without even looking that it’s Novisha. I tell Jasmine to hold on for a minute and answer the phone. “Hello.”

  “Ty, it’s me.”

  I look at my watch. “It’s practically four thirty. You now getting home?”

  “Yeah. I stopped by my mom’s job and she put me to work. She had me sweeping and dusting like I don’t work hard at school all day. What did you do today?”

  “I worked. I’m on my way back to Bennett now.”

  “I wish you were here right now.”

  “Your moms ain’t there?”

  “No, she went shopping. Wait until you see how much she’s cooking for you guys. We’re gonna have fun tomorrow.”

  “Yeah,” I tell her, even though I forgot all ‘bout that dinner thing.

  “Is everything okay, Ty? You’re hardly saying anything.”

  “Nah, I’m a’ight. I’m just ‘bout to get on the train though.”

  “Okay. I love you.”

  Damn. Why she gotta say that when I standing here with Jasmine? But there ain’t no getting outta it. “I love you too,” I whisper. Jasmine cover her mouth so Novisha can’t hear her laughing. “See you tomorrow.”

  When we hang up, Jasmine put her arm ‘round my waist. “You in love?”

  I don’t say nothing.

  “What’s happening tomorrow?”

  “Novisha moms invited my family to dinner.” I shake my head ‘cause I know my moms, and she don’t know how to act sometimes. I mean, there ain’t no doubt in my mind that this dinner is gonna be bad. Real bad. A fuckin’ nightmare.

  THIRTY-ONE

 
“What’s wrong?” I ask my moms the second I get back to the room and see the look on her face. She sitting on the end of the bed looking mad as hell, like she heated ‘bout something. And her face is tight. She, like, the opposite of how she was yesterday.

  “I went to see your father today and he talking crazy, saying when he get out, he only gonna play at weddings and birthday parties and shit.”

  I can’t stand when she curse in front of Troy, who sitting on the other bed playing with his new Game Boy. He in his own little video game world and probably ain’t even heard what she said, but still. That ain’t the point. I sit down next to him. “You finish your homework, man?”

  “Yeah.” He don’t look at me once. He just keep on playing his game.

  And my moms just keep on talking. “Ty, he crazy if he think he gonna come out that prison and start playing at weddings, working his ass off for no money. What he need to do that for?”

  “You the crazy one,” I tell her. “He trying to stay outta jail and be with us. That ain’t crazy. That’s smart. What, you like when he locked up? You like being here at Bennett?”

  “He just gotta be more careful next time. I’m always telling him that, but he don’t never listen, your father. But if he start playing weddings, we never gonna afford to live nowhere nice again. We gonna be back in the projects, and I ain’t having that.”

  I stare at her for a long time, and she actually look like she believe what she saying. She dead serious. She really want her man to risk his freedom just so she won’t hafta go back to the projects. Like things was so bad when we was there. “You know, I don’t get you,” I say after a while. “You always talking ‘bout how much you love the man, but you don’t never do nothing to support him. You just keep wanting stuff even when he don’t got nothing to give you. You s’posed to want him to do the right thing.”

  “No. He s’posed to take care of us.”

  Damn. It’s like that?

  I don’t even know what to say or do no more. I mean, the man trying to do what he shoulda did a long time ago, but she don’t understand that. Now I know why he always taking chances and winding up behind bars. Like what Yolanda was saying, men do some stupid shit for women. And she wasn’t lying. But do my pops gotta keep getting locked up just to keep my moms happy?

  I take a deep breath and try again. “You make it sound like that’s all a man is for. Supporting you. Taking care of you.”

  “I need your father,” she say, and she look kinda lost too. “I can’t do it by myself no more. I need him.”

  We just sit there quiet for a few minutes. The only sound is Troy playing his video game. Then, just ‘cause I feel bad, I tell her not to worry ‘bout nothing, that we gonna be alright. I hand her the bag Emiliano gave me and, just like I thought, she see them donuts and smile.

  Since I’m just sitting there, I open Troy notebook and check over his homework. Then, later, after I get him to turn off the game and write some of them vocabulary words neater, I get my basketball out the garbage bag, and me and him go outside to shoot some hoops in the cold.

  Being at Bennett is messed up for me, but if I was a little kid, I woulda probably lost my mind by now. Kids his age need to run ‘round and burn off all they energy. They don’t need to be locked up in a little room from the time they get home from school ‘til the next morning. It ain’t right.

  Only thing is, there ain’t no basketball hoop on the block where Bennett is at, so me and Troy walk down the block to Hunts Point Avenue, to where there always be kids outside playing. Not that I wanna get in no real game, not with Troy with me. I just wanna show him some moves, let him know that even though our pops ain’t there, he still got somebody to teach him how to play.

  When my pops was out, me and him used to play ball all the time, and that’s the only time we got to really talk. I mean, yeah, most of it was trash talk, but least we was doing something together. My pops used to be like, “You keep playing like that and I’m gonna buy you a dress.”

  And I would tell him, “Talk to me tonight when you got your knee wrapped and you whining like a bitch.”

  That would make him laugh, but then he would bump into me to take a shot. Like he ain’t know he was fouling me. And every time he made a basket, he was like, “You gonna let a forty-year-old man kick your ass?”

  “You ain’t beating nobody,” I would tell him, ‘cause, truth is, we both knew I coulda beat him from jump. I just ain’t wanna embarrass the man.

  When me and him wasn’t talking trash, we used to talk ‘bout all kinds of shit, everything from music to females. And we used to make plans too. Like, he was gonna show me how to drive, so I would be ready to get my permit the minute I turned sixteen. Matter of fact, every time he rented a van to take the equipment to one of his parties, he would let me drive ‘round the parking lot and on the side streets for a while, just for practice. Course here I am now, ‘bout to turn sixteen, and where he at?

  But that ain’t the point. The point is, me and him had fun and we got to hang and shit. And I don’t want Troy to grow up and miss all that ‘cause, to be honest, he need a man to teach him what a man do. My moms can’t do that.

  Now me, I know I can’t take my pops place or nothing, but Troy need somebody for now. So that’s what I’ma try to do. Be there.

  In bed with Jasmine that night, me and her do a whole lot of kissing in the dark, but she still don’t give me none. The girl got me so worked up though, I gotta get up outta bed and go to the bathroom to take care of my situation. On the other side of the door, I hear her saying, “Mira, asqueroso, I hope you not doing what I think you doing.”

  I’m too busy to say anything to her, and I don’t know what she talking ‘bout anyhow. She probably just trying to make me feel bad ‘bout something every guy do.

  When I’m back in bed with her, she whisper to me, “You a bad boy.”

  “Just come kiss me,” I say, and she do. Me and her is under the covers and our legs is wrapped ‘round each others the way we always got them. And I’m feeling good, ‘specially now that some of the pressure ain’t there no more.

  After a while we stop kissing and she talk ‘bout her old schools and how she felt going back there today. “I’m a different girl now,” she say. “And seeing all those boys again, ay, dios mio! It was so embarrassing.”

  “Just ‘cause you used to be a ho, don’t mean you gotta be ‘shamed ‘bout it. Everybody make mistakes.”

  “I know,” she say. “What’s your biggest mistake?”

  “Damn. I got so many.” But I ain’t gotta think too hard ‘cause my pops been on my mind from when me and Troy played basketball. “My mistake is pro’ly looking up to my pops so much,” I tell her. “ ‘Cause, yeah, he cool and everything, but he be messing up so much that sometimes I wish I ain’t even care ‘bout the man, you know. I mean, he knew he was gonna get hisself locked up again, but he ain’t did nothin’ to make sure we was gonna be a’ight while he gone. And now, ‘cause of him, I gotta be the man. I gotta make the money to take care of my moms and brother. I gotta put my freedom on the line.” I’m getting mad just talkin’ ‘bout this. “And what’s s’posed to happen when he get out in August? I’m s’posed to go back to being a kid again? ‘Cause I don’t think I could go back, you know what I mean?”

  Jasmine stroke the side of my face. “Don’t worry about that now. You just getting yourself stressed.”

  Her hands feel mad good, warm. “Yeah,” I tell her. “You right.”

  I close my eyes and try to stop thinking ‘bout all that. All I gotta think ‘bout now is the party. ‘Cause in 48 hours, the party is gonna be on. And I gotta be ready.

  THIRTY-TWO

  After I leave Jasmine in the morning, I go wake my moms up and tell her she gotta take Troy to school. I’ma need to make as much cash as I can today and make sure everything is in place for the party tomorrow. Besides, my moms got a meeting with the caseworker from the EAU today at 10:00, so she gotta get up anyway.


  But that don’t stop her from arguing with me though, ‘cause she ain’t used to getting up so early. But after ‘bout twenty minutes, she do drag her ass outta bed and into the bathroom.

  “Why you can’t take me to school?” Troy ask me.

  “’Cause I gotta work.” I reach in the plastic container and give him a handful of them orange peanut butter cheese crackers. “Here. Eat.” I sit on the bed and eat some of them with him ‘cause I know I ain’t getting no kinda breakfast today.

  “We ever gonna get out of here?” he ask, opening the crackers and licking the peanut butter off.

  “Yeah, on Monday.”

  “Then we going back home?”

  “Nah. They gonna put us in a real shelter.”

  “Oh.” Troy keep on eating. I can tell he got more questions, but he don’t ask none of them, like he probably don’t wanna hear the answers. So I tell him we gonna be alright no matter where they send us ‘cause we all gonna be together, and that seem to make him feel a little better.

  My moms come out the bathroom all dressed and ready to go, but she still complaining ‘cause she don’t wanna go see that caseworker. “All I need is a shelter so my kids don’t gotta be at Bennett. What she gotta talk to me for?”

  “She pro’ly wanna talk ‘bout the fraud case, what else?”

  “That don’t make no sense. Your father was paying back that money. The only reason we ain’t paying no more is ‘cause they locked the man up.”

  “Then all you gotta do is show that caseworker that you trying to do the right thing now,” I tell her.

  She nod her head. “I am doing the right thing. I’m holding it down while my husband is away, right? It ain’t easy, but I’m doing it.” She grab some of them crackers out the container. “C’mon, Troy. We gonna be late.”

  They walk out the door, and I can see Troy take off down the hall at top speed. I laugh. It look like he used to them boots already. My moms is gonna have a hard time keeping up with him today.