Homeless (4 page)

The days that followed had to be labeled as bad as the precise moment his mother was pronounced dead. Lonnie's teachers had given him a week to return to school and take all exams that were missed. Like everyone else the teen came in contact with, their hearts broke for his plight, but none offered to donate any money to his cause. After calling back down to the hospital morgue, he found out, just as he was told would take place, his mother's body was turned over to the medical examiner's office. He felt devastated to just think of his mom being handled so disrespectfully, passed from place to place as if she was some old spoiled meat or a stray dog's body scraped off the street. Lonnie grew sick to his stomach every time he thought about it.

Someone advised him to turn to some churches, but since neither he nor his mother were members, the churches claimed they couldn't help. He called the Salvation Army and was told all of their funds were tapped out for the fiscal season . . . whatever that meant. Welfare would pay a small portion as Mrs. Bishop initially said, but only after the family paid the additional amount the funeral home required. Going to the guys on the block that sold drugs and being told he had to “be down” and they'd help him, Lonnie refused, knowing that lifestyle was not for him. The desperate youngster even went to the funeral home asking if he could do odd jobs to pay off the additional funds he needed. The funeral director was willing to maybe work something out, but his daughter, who ran the business aspect of the company, refused, blatantly stating that they were not running a charity.

Lonnie was coming close to losing his mind. He knew he was running out of time before he had to return to school and try to keep his grades up. He'd promised his mother days before she died that no matter what, he'd maintain his grades and be awarded one of the many scholarships he applied for. His father finally returned his call and told him he was sorry for his loss; nothing more, nothing less. He volunteered no financial assistance to bury his son's mother, which was to be expected. And not once did he offer for Lonnie to come and live with him, stating he was not stable and struggling himself. The GoFundMe account he'd set up had only raised twenty-five dollars; so that was that. He wanted to throw up. He felt as if he wasn't a man. He'd let his mother down and maybe he did need someone to “look after him,” as Mrs. Bishop taunted that awful night at the hospital before he ran off. Maybe if he'd stayed, she could've helped him bury his mother properly. But at this point, things had gone all the way to the left with her. Lonnie knew there was no turning around trying to cross that bridge. It was burned completely down. Wanting to call his mother's social worker, the teen knew that wouldn't be a good idea if he wanted to keep the food stamp card activated as long as possible.

Lonnie finally gave up on his heartfelt mission for the time being. Consumed with remorse, he called the medical examiner, informing them he couldn't get the money together as soon as he thought; however, please know he'd be there to claim his mother's body before the month's end.

Lonnie returned to school. Trying to focus on his studies was next to impossible. Knowing his mother was being housed in some huge walk-in refrigerator with a lot of dead strangers that no one gave a damn about or had families and loved ones like him that didn't have the money to do the proper thing was destroying his concentration on the regular. But Lonnie remembered the promise he made to his mother and kept his eye on the prize.

Getting mocked and ridiculed for the clothes he was wearing and the hole in the sole of the sneakers on his feet, Lonnie ignored the other students' cruel, hurtful remarks. For the most part, they hadn't been forced to live the life he had or see the things he'd seen. They were trapped in a world of childhood playing checkers, while Lonnie had to play chess. One teacher in particular knew his best student was catching all-out hell and hooked him up with a part-time job at McDonald's. Getting that news was like Christmas, his birthday, and income tax time in the hood, all rolled into one.

As Lonnie walked home ecstatic about his blessing, he not once thought about buying a new video game with his first paycheck or even some new Jordans to stop the teasing. The devoted son wanted nothing more than to bury his mother. It had been a little short of three weeks since her death, and it was the only thing that constantly stayed on his mind.
Thank you, God, for giving me this job. A brother needed this in the worst type of way. I just wanna finish school and make this money. After I do what I gotta do for my mother, I can start paying some overdue bills and saving for other stuff, just in case I don't get one of them scholarships or grants. Damn, thank you, God!

Lonnie was in his own world as he bent the corner of the block. Living in the celebration that he would soon be amongst the working class, the teen failed to notice the caretaker's girlfriend standing near the front entryway of the building. Strangely, she had not said much to him since their verbal confrontation the morning after his mother's death. When the two would see each other in passing, she'd just smirk and but not mutter a single solitary word. Well, today was eerily different. As he turned the knob of the huge steel front door of the building, she spoke.

“Well, hello, Mr. Lonnie. I hope you had a good day at school.” Her smile was as big as the sun as she looked up from filing her dragon lady fire-engine-red painted fingernails.

Lonnie didn't know what to make of her out-of-the-blue pleasantries. Not wanting an argument with her to rob him of the joy he was feeling, he shrugged his shoulders, ignoring her greeting and statement. As he waited for the elevator, some of the other residents walked by, lowering their heads as if they didn't want to be seen. When the door slid open, Lonnie stepped inside and pushed the number four. As it closed shut, the elated youth thought he heard someone call out his name but wasn't certain. It was too late to see who it was because the elevator was headed upward, so he'd have to catch up with whoever it was on the way out.
Today is a good day. I swear I'm going to go to work every hour they let my name be on the schedule. I'm gonna make all that money!
Lonnie's mind was racing. In between all the tragic events he'd been going through lately, he knew finally he was on the verge of coming up. It was finally his season, as the old folks used to say.

Reaching the fourth floor, Lonnie stepped out into the dimly lit hallway. Staring down at the traffic-worn carpet as he walked, he smelled what was easily recognized as his next-door neighbor's hood-famous spicy seasoned fried chicken. Although he wanted to knock on her door and ask for a couple of pieces, Lonnie, stomach growling, wanted to get home as soon as possible. Lost in the struggle of ghetto-life poverty, he had one can of Spam in the cabinet and a ninety-nine-cent Honey Bun calling his name. But to him, it would taste like a porterhouse steak and baked potato with all the fixings.

After missing school for a week and some days, Lonnie was taking on all the extra credit assignments he could to try to stay at the top of his class as he swore to his mom he would. The grade-A student had more than the usual amount of homework to complete this evening and a conference call with his fellow classmate, also a scholar, so time was not to be wasted. In addition to studying into probably what would become the wee hours of the morning, the anxiously happy new employee of McDonald's had to also try to wash out two of the three halfway decent shirts he owned by hand in the bathroom sink. Although his teacher guaranteed the fast-food job was indeed his, the orphaned youth still had to go in, fill out paperwork, and discuss when he was to come in for training.

“Oh, hell naw! What in the entire fuck? Not now! Of all damn times, not fucking now!” Lonnie stood directly in front of his own door with his eyes bucked. Immediately he grew infuriated. His adrenaline was pumping as his heart raced. With clenched fist, the mild-manned young man was instantly catapulted into total overdrive as he snatched the court order of eviction paperwork down off the door. “This is some low-down rotten bullshit! They know shit been messed up for me! This right here is foul as fuck!” Lonnie's angry-toned voice rang throughout the entire floor of the low-income dwelling, resulting in neighbors peeking out of their doors. The few residents that had been home all day knew what Lonnie's verbal assault beef would consist of and what all the late-afternoon commotion was truly all about. They expected it to be a “y'all got me fucked the fucked up and straight twisted” scene worthy of being cell phone recorded when Lonnie returned from school. It wasn't the first time they'd seen the taped official documents the youngster was seeing; some dramatically experiencing it themselves.

“I'm so sorry, baby,” the neighbor to the right that was frying the chicken commented before closing her door, not wanting to be directly involved in what this could transpire into.

Removing his heavy book bag off his back, Lonnie tossed it to the side of the door's paint-chipped frame. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The vein in his neck was starting to pulsate. Both temples pounded as he tried massaging them with his fingertips.
This shit right here is so crazy messed up. How they gonna play me after all this time we been living here, giving the white man our money? I can't believe this bullshit! Hell naw!
Not caught up in a fantasy world, Lonnie knew it had been quite some time since his mother had paid anything on the rent so the inevitable was already living on borrowed time. No dummy by far bookwise or when it came to the streets, he knew most folk, if not all, lived by the old adage . . . no pay, no stay. Yet, like so many other emotionally drained people or people who just don't give a damn, they think the rules don't apply to them.

Taking his key out his pocket, Lonnie tried sticking it into the lower cylinder. Even though it went in with ease, it failed to be able to turn to the left or the right. Feeling his fury grow, Lonnie's palms began to sweat as reality set in. Here he was just coming home from school in good spirits feeling like he'd just been personally blessed by an angel and here the fuck the devil shows his ho ass up with some bullshit; straight strong-arm robbing Lonnie of his small bit of joy.

Attempting to twist the knob several times, he used the weight of his body to try to force the door to open. That's when he heard a clunking sound overhead. Not once looking all the way upward, he'd failed to see that there was an industrial-size padlock attached to the door and frame, also stopping him from gaining entry into the place he'd just called home a few hours prior. This couldn't be life, but unfortunately for Lonnie, it was.

His.

Lonnie's having patience was completely over. He felt like he had reached his boiling point. Just like he was hit with dealing with the disappointment of losing his mother and being forced to deal with it, now he'd have to do the same with what this was. Not only was he on his own to navigate through the world, he was now homeless. Homeless with nowhere to go and seemingly no one that cared about his plight. Frustrated, he lifted his worn sneakers and started to repeatedly kick on the door. As he cursed, asking God how much more suffering he had to endure, he failed to hear the elevator open.

“Son, please, wait, will you?” the elderly caretaker urged walking toward an out of sorts Lonnie.

“Wait for what, huh? You tell me! Wait for what!” his emotions were at an all-time high as his voice grew louder.

“I tried to call you before you came up here, but you didn't hear me. I didn't want you to find out like this.”

“Okay, you tried to call me. Okay, call me and say what? Say that you locked me out of my own apartment? Say that you don't give a fuck about what I been going through? Is that it? Or was you going to tell me that you changed the locks and is about to give me a new set?”

The caretaker didn't want any problems. Over the years of having to repeat this same lockout process, he always tried to avoid altercations, if at all possible. This time, he could tell things had all the ingredients to go to the left rapidly. He knew the young man was pissed; and rightly so. He'd seen him leave for school every morning for years and always tried his best to encourage him. When he'd have some extra fruit or maybe some spare change, he always made sure to give it to Lonnie. It was those things, along with the fact he was always smiling and being friendly to the boy's mother that had his girlfriend harbor bitter and vindictive feelings toward apartment 417 and both its occupants.

“Listen. I had absolutely no idea this was going to take place today, son; no idea at all.”

“Yeah, all right, whatever.”

Holding both his hands up, the elderly man pleaded his case to the visibly irate teenager. “Look, son, as long as you and your mother have been living here, I've always been nothing but kind to you and her.”

“Yeah, okay, that's true. But how you not know I was gonna be locked out? Correct me if I'm wrong, but ain't you the one that changed the locks and put this damn padlock on the door so I couldn't get in?” Lonnie raised his foot once more, kicking on the door. As the heavy padlock rattled overhead, the wooden frame shook, causing some paint chips to fall from the wall.

“To be honest with you, I was outside picking up garbage on the far side of the building when the owner unexpectedly showed up about ten thirty this morning.”

“The owner; the white man that never ever comes around here but once a year maybe just showed up out of the clear blue sky to fuck with me? Come on now. That don't even sound right or make no kind of sense at all.”

The caretaker was now standing at the locked door alongside of Lonnie. Looking him dead in his eye, he spoke as directly as possible. “Looka here, Lonnie. I don't have no good reason to lie to you. I mean, what's it gonna gain me one way or another? Now, like I said, I was outside when he pulled right on up out there.” He rubbed down on his gray wiry-haired beard. “Shocked the shit outta me too. He don't usually come around here to see what's going on like you said but once a year!”

“Oh, just like that? Really? Are you kidding me or what?” Lonnie's facial expression was full of sheer resentment as he gave the man the serious side eye.

“Yeah, I'm telling you, boy; out of nowhere. No damn warning! He had some Mexican guys trailing behind him in a pickup, and they all parked up front. He showed me a list with three different apartments he wanted me to lock out as soon as I could. I went to my place to get my master keys, and by the time I got back, him and them damn Mexicans had already been up here at your door knocking and snooping around.”

Lonnie was heated just listening to the story, “Yo, this is messed up. But whatever; just open the door so I can get my stuff.”

“That's the thing, son. He told me to get the other three apartments situated, and he'd handle yours personally. I told him the circumstances about your mother, but you know the white man and his money.”

Lonnie was done listening. Just as he was thinking things were looking up, the bottom had just fallen out of his young life once more. Distraught, he just wanted to get as much of his belongings as he could get out of the apartment even though he had nowhere to take anything at the time. He'd figure that much out later. For now, he just wanted to take his stuff and go. “Okay, I'm good on all of the damn blow-by-blow commentary that jumped off while I was at school. I get it. That asshole popped up, singled me out, and now, I'm homeless. I get it! So open the door and let me get my shit and I'm out!”

The caretaker knew what he was going to say next would only cause bigger flames to flare up in an already fiery situation. However, he had no choice but to be the bearer of more bad news. “Lonnie, I'm sorry, son. But the owner had the two guys with him clean out the apartment.”

“Say what! What the hell you mean clean out the apartment? Where is my stuff at? I swear to God my stuff better be inside this bitch!” Lonnie started kicking on the door over and over again. The more he kicked and cursed, the more nosey people brazenly stepped out of their own apartments and into the hallway to see what the outcome of the earlier events that jumped off in apartment 417 would be.

“Slow down, son, before you tear something up, I'll let you in.” The caretaker eased his hand around his thick leather belt. Unhooking the huge set of master keys, he held them up to his face. Looking over his glasses, the elderly man easily found the one gold and one silver key that looked newer than the rest. Going against the lockout policy, he proceeded to remove the padlock and open the deadbolts. As Lonnie brushed by him entering the apartment, he knew the boy was going to return to the hallway angrier and more disappointed than when he went inside.

* * *

Lonnie darted from room to room, sadly finding nothing but emptiness. The once happy place he'd grown up in was nothing now but a hollow shell to him; no home sweet home.
Why you letting this happen to me, God? Why?
No comfortable couch, no chair with the Kool-Aid stain on the left arm, and no six-bulb hanging imitation brass lamp that barely worked. None of his academic trophies were displayed near the window, and Lonnie failed to see the pictures of him and his mother that were framed and on the coffee table.
I swear this is messed up. I swear it is!
Rushing into his room, his twin bed was not there. All his posters he'd collected throughout the years were gone off the wall, leaving nothing but the clean paint surface outline where they were taped.
Not my damn posters too. Damn!
The secondhand desk his mother got him two years prior was not sitting in the corner. And the few decent clothing items he owned were not in sight; just several hangers dangling on the pole in an empty closet.

As Lonnie temporary paused to get his mind right, he exhaled, not believing what had taken place since he'd gone to school and come back.
I don't know why God is testing me so much. First, Mommy, now this! Damn!
Shocked, on to the bathroom he ran. The ugly maroon-colored shower curtain was missing, as well as his favorite towel and his blue-handled toothbrush.
A toothbrush? Who in the hell so petty they fuck with toothbrushes and washcloths? This is so messed up!
The agitated youth next discovered the kitchen was just as bare as the rest of the apartment; vacant in contents. The refrigerator door was standing wide open, and although it was indeed empty when he'd left for school this morning, at least, it was plugged in and standing at attention hoping to be filled.

As he briefly stood in the kitchen, Lonnie couldn't help but notice that his much-anticipated dinner can of Spam was gone off the counter, along with the ninety-nine-cent Honey Bun that would've served as dessert.
Ain't this about some shit! That white motherfucker and ho-ass Mexicans ain't miss a beat. I swear I wish I was here when they disrespectful asses showed up! Folks always kicking somebody when they down!

Not wanting to face the facts, Lonnie begrudgingly made his way to the last but most important room to him in the entire once-love-filled apartment; his mother's. With his hands firmly clenched on both sides of the entryway, he stood motionless. He was hurt. There was no other way to describe the utter pain he was feeling. Since the age of seven, for years on end, he'd run through the threshold of this room and jumped in his mother's bed. If he was getting a whopping, he ran in here to hide. If he had fallen outside or got a splinter from sliding around the old wooden floor no matter how many times he was told not to, he'd retreat in here for Mom to soothe his wounds and make the wrongs of the world right. As the years went by and Lonnie's mother grew sicker, the more quality time the two of them would spend in her bedroom talking about this and that. Lonnie was not just her only child; he was her protector, medical helper, and overall link to the outside world.

Now, tragically, not only was his mother gone from his physical life, the last real attachment he had to her was now no more as well. As strong as he tried to be, he could no longer fight back the tears. The room smelled like his mother's favorite scented candles, but as he scanned the empty four walls area, he knew this was no longer home; no longer a place he felt secure. All his mother's personal belongings were missing, just as he discovered his were. The trio had gone through her dresser drawers; no doubt examined her mail and other important papers. The monsters callously seized his mother's knickknacks and whatnots valuable to only her for sentimental reasons. The bastards gathered all her clothes and removed the small bedside table she kept her medications and nightly glass of ice water on. His mother's blanket he'd been wrapping up in since her death was also gone. It had her scent embedded, and Lonnie felt extremely close to her whenever he touched it.

Tormented deep in his soul, he wanted to run to the other side of the room and jump out the window. Lonnie felt he had reached rock bottom. The building owner and his two henchmen had made sure of that. They had done the work of the devil as far as the defeated teenager was concerned. Without so much as stepping foot inside his mother's bedroom, Lonnie wiped his face with his hands. For the final time in his life, he turned around from what was once his mother's room and headed back through the living room and out the door into the hallway.

“I'm sorry, son. There was nothing I could do to stop them. The owner had a court-ordered eviction.”