Eastside (17 page)

Tears streamed from Travon's eyes, mixing with the water from the shower. Darius grabbed his cousin and hugged him.

In the bathroom, in the shower, soaking wet they stood, and together, mourned the loss of their friend.

Next Day
Frog's Mother's House

T
ravon parked along the curb across the street. There were several cars parked in the driveway of Frog's mother's house, and many more parked in front of the residence. Travon climbed out of his car, crossed the street, and walked up the long pathway leading to the front door. He carried with him a large shopping bag and some flowers.

Yvette, Frog's oldest sister, answered the front door. Today she wore a white T-shirt, a pair of blue jeans, some pink house shoes, and a scarf tied around her normally well groomed hair. Makeup was completely absent today, and her usually sparkling emerald green eyes were bloodshot and tired.

“Hey, Tre,” she greeted him softly. “C'mon in.”

Travon stepped into the living room and was greeted by several of Frog's relatives. Sheila, Frog's other sister, rose from the couch, rushed into Travon's arms, and burst into tears.

“Oh, Tre!” Sheila cried out through her heavy weeping. “They killed my brother!”

Travon wrapped his arms around Sheila and tears fell from his eyes. “I'm sorry, Sheila,” he whispered. “I'm sorry.”

An aunt rose from the couch, grabbed Sheila, and began to comfort her.

“Momma's in the kitchen, Tre,” Yvette told him. “She'll be glad to see you.”

Travon nodded and walked through a set of double doors into the kitchen. Mrs. Davis was seated at the breakfast table alone. Travon could tell that she had not slept. She looked up at him and smiled.

Travon lifted his hand and wiped the tears from his face. Mrs. Davis quickly rose from her seat and embraced him.

“C'mon, baby, it's all right,” she told him. “It's all right. Freddy is with God now, baby. He's run his race. He's okay now, baby. Trust me; he's in a much better place. Now come on over here and sit down.”

Travon broke down and began crying again. “They killed him, Mrs. D,” he said through his heavy weeping. “They killed him.”

“I know, baby. I know.” Mrs. Davis clasped his hand. “Come on over here and sit down by me.”

They walked to the small Formica breakfast table. Travon took the seat across from hers, and lowered his face into the palms of his hands.

“Tre, I know you were there,” she said softly, as she reached forward and patted his hands. “I know that you and Freddy were together when he got shot. The police say it was a big shootout. Two of the boys y'all were shooting at died. Another is at the hospital in critical condition. Listen to me, Tre. They know that Freddy wasn't by himself.”

Travon lifted his head and stared at her. His eyes were now bloodshot.

“They don't know who was with him, but they found shell casings from three different guns by where Freddy was lying,” Mrs. Davis continued. “My point is this, Travon. I helped raise you. You and Freddy were like two peas in a pod, when y'all were growing up. Me, Elmira, and Vera all grew up together, and went to all the same schools when we were younger. You are like my child, Tre.”

Mrs. Davis leaned forward and cleared her throat. “My Freddy is dead. He ain't never coming back. Two other mothers are crying right now, because they child ain't never coming back. I ran into them at the hospital last night. Even after I was told that my baby was dead, I stayed there with them. We held hands together, and we all prayed together. Tre, it's over.”

She shook her head and stared Travon in the eyes. “Our babies are never comin' home. Now don't you go out there and get yourself hurt or killed, or hurt somebody else, all in the name of my son. If you want to do anything for Freddy, Tre, you finish school for him.”

Mrs. Davis softly jabbed her finger in Travon's direction. “You go to college for him, and you help take care of his son, and you make sure that he goes to college. That's what you can do for Freddy.”

Yvette strolled into the room. “Momma, do you want some more coffee?”

Mrs. Davis shook her head. “Naw, child. I'm caffeined out. Tell Tamara to bring Lil Freddy here.”

“All right.” Yvette nodded and left the room.

Mrs. Davis turned back to Travon. “I've shed my tears, Travon. Last night, I shed enough tears for all the rest of the mothers in this city. I've paid their bill for them. So now, they shouldn't have to cry. I don't want them to cry.” She lifted her thin, worn, wrinkled hand to her face and began to cry. “Nobody! Nobody should have to bury their child!”

Travon rose.

“I have to bury my child,” she whispered softly through her sobbing.

Travon wrapped his arms around her. “I'm sorry, Mrs. D.”

Mrs. Davis shook her head. “No, I'm the one who's sorry.” She quickly wiped away her tears. “I shouldn't be acting like this around you kids.”

“It's okay, Mrs. D,” Travon told her. “It's okay.”

Tamara walked into the room holding Little Freddy. Her hair was twisted into long, thin micro braids and tied up in a French roll. Three of the braids hung loosely in the front, with gold balls attached to their tips. Like the others, Tamara was wearing blue jeans, a T-shirt, and some house shoes.

Little Freddy wore tiny blue jean overalls over a white T-shirt with tiny blue and red teddy bears sewn into it. On his feet he wore tiny Michael Jordan tennis shoes, while a red pacifier hung loosely out of his mouth. Travon lifted him from his mother's arm and held him tightly.

“He looks just like his dad,” Travon declared with a smile.

Mrs. Davis and Tamara smiled.

“Mrs. D, I brought something for you to have, but instead, I'm going to give it to the baby,” Travon told her.

Mrs. Davis leaned back. “Oh?”

Travon handed the baby back to Tamara and grabbed the flowers that he had brought with him. “These are for you,” he told Mrs. Davis, handing her the bouquet.

She smiled. “Thank you, baby. I'll have Yvette put them in some water for me.”

Travon reached into his bag, pulled out two sympathy cards and handed them to Mrs. Davis.

“Thank you, baby,” Mrs. Davis told him. “Here, give me some suga.”

Travon leaned forward and kissed her on her cheek. He then reached inside of his bag again, and this time produced an old, worn football.

“Remember when you took me, Too-Low, and Freddy to the mall that time, and Freddy cried the whole time about this football? He cried until you turned around and went back to the store and bought it for him. Well, I won it six months later while we was shootin' marbles. It's the football we was always playin' with in the Courts, even up 'til last year. I kept it all this time. It has everybody's signature on it, even my brother's. It was Freddy's football, and now it's Lil Freddy's.”

Travon sat the ball on a chair. Mrs. Davis rose and embraced Travon tightly. She began crying again.

Tamara covered the lower half of her face; tears streamed from her eyes as well. Travon and Mrs. Davis stood hugging and crying for several moments, until finally, Mrs. Davis released him and began wiping away her tears. She seated herself again, and pointed toward the ceiling.

“Travon, you go upstairs and look in Freddy's room, and see what you want out of there. Anything you want, you keep.” Mrs. Davis waved her hand from side to side. “Don't tell me, just take it. As a matter of fact, I want you to search his room real good for me, and take everything out that you think I shouldn't find. I'm afraid to go in there and look around. When I clean his room, I'll need you and the rest of the boys to come over and help me.”

“You don't want to keep none of his stuff for memories?” Travon asked.

“I remember my baby,” Mrs. Davis told him. She touched her hand against her heart. “I'll always remember my baby. Plus, I'm bringing my son home. We are going to set up a shelf in the family room for his urn. It's going to have his pictures all around it, and pictures of his friends. I'm gonna have it so that all of you boys can come over on his birthday, and holidays, and be able to pay your respects.”

Travon's eyes were wide with shock. “You're gonna cremate Frog?”

Mrs. Davis nodded solemnly. “Yeah. The family talked about it, and we all decided this morning that it would be best.”

Travon smacked his lips and turned away. “Aw, man. Why you gonna do that?”

“Well, for one thing, it's a lot cheaper,” Mrs. Davis explained. “We'll be able to give him a nicer funeral this way. We won't have to pay for a burial plot, or any of that kind of stuff. Tre, I didn't have any insurance on Freddy. I'm already having a hard time as it is, and now I have to pay for a funeral?”

She began sobbing again. “Plus, I just want my baby home with me. He was always running the streets and living here and there, and so now, I just want him home.”

Travon clasped her hand. “It's okay, Mrs. D. We are gonna help you with everything. We are all gonna put in and help you.”

Mrs. Davis tilted her head to the side and nodded. “Thank you, baby,” she told him, gently patting his hand. “Thank you.”

Travon stood. “Well, I'm gonna go and holler at everybody and start getting everything together. So, when is the funeral?”

“Three days from now,” she told him. “The wake is the day after tomorrow.”

Travon leaned forward and kissed Mrs. Davis on her cheek. “I'll be by tomorrow.” He turned to leave, and she grabbed his hand.

“Travon, remember what I said,” Mrs. Davis said softly. She shifted her gaze toward the baby. “That's what you can do for Freddy. Nothing stupid. Don't ruin my son's memory by trying to get revenge in his name.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Travon replied. He slowly walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“Have something to eat, baby,” an aunt told him, pointing to a table filled with food.

Travon lifted his hand and shook his head. “No thank you, ma'am. I'm not hungry right now.”

She nodded. “Okay, baby. You be careful, and tell Elmira that I said to call me.”

Travon nodded. “Yes, ma'am.” He turned to leave, but heard his name being called. It was Sheila.

“Tre.” She clasped his arm, interlacing it with her own. “I'll walk you to your car.”

Sheila wore a large T-shirt, some blue jeans, and a pair of slippers. Her hair was braided into a scrunch, with large gold butterfly clips pinned in a row down the front. Even though she had been through hell over the last twenty-four hours, she was still extremely attractive. She and Travon headed out of the front door and down the pathway toward his vehicle.

“Tre, I know my mother is talking all of this peace shit, but I want you, and Darius, and Robert Jr., and Lil Fade to kill the rest of them muthafuckers. Tell Darius that if he ever loved me that I said he would do this for me.”

Sheila halted and faced Travon. “You know what happened between me and Darius? Tre, we were both young and scared. I know that I shouldn't have gotten an abortion, but I didn't know what else to do. Tell him that I still love him, and that I know he still loves me. Tell him to please just accept my calls.”

Travon lifted his hand. “I don't want nothing to do with you and Darius's problems.”

“I know, I'm sorry.” She shifted her gaze toward the concrete pathway. “Just tell him that I said to do this for me. I need for y'all to get the niggaz who killed my baby brother.” Tears began to fall.

“We gonna handle our business,” Travon told her.

“Good!” Sheila leaned forward and hugged him. Travon held her tightly, comforting her. After a few moments, Sheila pulled away from him, and then pulled from beneath her T-shirt a submachine gun.

“I want you to use this,” she said excitedly. “It belonged to my brother. He loaded it at my apartment the day before he died. When the police check the fingerprints on the bullets, they will be Frog's. It will be like my brother killed them niggaz from the grave.”

Travon nodded, and carefully removed the weapon from her hands.

“Sheila, promise me something,” Travon said softly. “If I do this for you, will you do something for me?”

Sheila nodded.

“I want you to go inside and get some sleep,” Travon told her. “After this is all over with, I want you to go and talk to somebody. I want you to let somebody help you deal with all of this. Those are my conditions, and I want you to swear to me that you'll do it.”

Sheila shifted her gaze to the ground and nodded. “I will.”

Travon leaned forward, kissed her on her cheek, and turned and headed for his vehicle.