Naughtier than Nice (17 page)

Frankie's car had to be towed. It was left in front of a repair shop on La Brea and Florence. It would have to be left there until her State Farm people could send someone to look at it. It was easy to see that the car was totaled. Frankie had told the police she had no idea why her car had been targeted. She had been at the club only twenty minutes, so that made it seem like whoever did it did it the moment she went inside of the club. LA was a city where if someone felt like you had cut in front of their car while you were driving, they would become offended, speed up, honk their horns, then pull up next to you and wave a loaded handgun at you while cursing you out. Or wait for you to park and fuck up your car. This was the kind of madness they would do, then run like a bitch-baby. Two hours later we were all back home. Livvy and Tony had dropped Frankie off at home. Blue put Mo back in bed, stayed with her until she went to sleep. She had seen things I wished she hadn't seen, Frankie being hysterical in her hoochie-momma dress at the top of the list.

Blue asked, “Sure you don't want to pack a bag and go spend the night at Frankie's?”

“I'll check on her in the morning. Why did you ask me that? That was random.”

“This would be a good opportunity for you to leave and not come back until the morning.”

“What do you mean? I've rarely
not
spent the night at home, and when I did, Mo was with me.”

“Just thought you might want to go stay with your sister, be gone from here for the night.”

“Why would I want to be gone from here for the night?”

“You would have to tell me. I have no idea. But this is your chance to get away, alone.”

Blue showered. I showered when he was done. We dressed for bed. He wore boxers. I wore a Superman T-shirt, no panties. I dressed the way I usually did on Saturday nights.

He was in bed, on his side, near the wall, his back to me. He had never turned his back to me.

I asked, “Sleep?”

In a dark tone he asked, “Where were you tonight, Tommie?”

“Starbucks. We were on Skype. Did you forget? We talked until I started to work.”

“An hour later, when Frankie called here, I couldn't reach you. She couldn't reach you.”

“My phone was on silent while I tried to focus on my work. Is that a crime?”

“After Frankie called, I called your cellular five or six times. No answer. Then I was worried something had happened to you. That's why I called Starbucks. They said you weren't there.”

“I was there. Maybe I had gone to the bathroom. Maybe the worker had cataracts.”

“Why are there condoms in your car?”

“Condoms?”

“Why do you have condoms in the pocket of the jacket that's hidden in the bag in your car?”

“That jacket is Frankie's jacket. Those condoms are her condoms.”

“Are you seeing someone, Tommie?”

“The condoms were in there already when I borrowed the jacket, and she has no idea I borrowed it. I took it from her closet to wear if you and me went out, or if Monica was gone for the
night I was going to wear that and the shoes and surprise you and I never checked the goddamn pockets. Glad you did.”

“You have an answer for everything.”

“Are we ever going to talk about you getting the vasectomy reversed? When will you have an answer for that? We really don't have much to talk about. I'm not going to keep shacking up, not going to keep living in
concubinage
. If we're not going to get it reversed so we can get married and start a family, I might as well move out and let you and Monica keep the house and then I can just get my own apartment.”

“This is what you asked for, for us to live together. You asked for this house, not me.”

“That was when I thought you had ambition, Blue.”

“I was doing fine, Tommie. Before I met you, before you came into Mo's life, we were fine. I take care of my daughter. That's where my ambition, where my energy, is focused. Tell me what you have added to my life. Tell me what value you have, besides being here, becoming a burden, and complaining day after day about something. Every time you complain, you suck the damn oxygen out of my lungs.”

“Damn, Blue.”

“Don't mess with me, Tommie. I deal with emotional and financial pressures every day, and I never say a goddamn word. Most men would have sent their child to live with a relative, or would have given her to her mother, but I did what I had to do. Don't try to make it seem like I have no damn ambition. I'm not Tony, don't make money like Franklin, but you ain't no Livvy and you damn sure ain't no Frankie.”

“I'm sorry I said that, Blue.”

“Don't insult me, Tommie. I have put three meals a day on the table and kept a roof over Monica's head and I have done that without fail. There are many days that I would rather be doing something else, and there are days where I wish . . . I didn't have . . . I
wish I didn't have this responsibility. I want to go skiing, I want to sleep in on Saturdays and Sundays, but those days are long gone. I want to have a day of peace and no one giving me stress or needing me for nothing. There are days I feel
stuck
, when I feel
depressed
, when I feel
trapped
, when I wish I were free to hang out like Mo's mother hangs out, when I wish I had my weekends to myself and could stop being an adult and could've kept pursuing my screenwriting. I feel lost at times too, but I am here, and I am doing what I am supposed to do to make sure that little girl will one day be able to do better. Ambition? My ambition is to make sure Monica will be able to do the things I will never be able to do. She will be able to see the world the way Frankie has, will travel like Livvy and Tony have, and I will cherish every postcard she sends me. Ambition. My ambition is in front of your face, Tommie. Until you can do better than what I do, don't insult me. A black man puts everything on hold to take care of his seed, and you tell me I have no ambition? Do you know how many shitty jobs I have taken, how many hours I work to make sure my daughter will have a better life?”

Seconds passed. The tension was like a fire, filled the room with invisible smoke.

He grabbed a pillow, then stopped at the hall closet long enough to yank down a blanket.

He marched into the living room, settled on the oversize, secondhand sofa.

My heart ached. I looked for the therapist, but she had left me to face this moment alone.

I went down the hallway, checked on Mo before I took cautious steps to the front of the house.

I stood in the door frame, gazed through the darkness at him as I shifted foot to foot.

Silence stood between us as tears rained down my face.

I said, “I didn't mean it. I swear on my parents' graves I wish I had never said that.”

“I have never once said anything about leaving. I have never vanished during the day or at night. You know where I am at all times. I don't delete text messages from my phone. Don't drag it out. Leave.”

I stood over Blue. I bumped him with my knee. Blue moved over and I made myself comfortable on the sofa, in his arms. A moment later, Monica ran into the living room and saw us on the sofa. She stood in front of us. I heard her crying. I couldn't see her clearly, but I heard her labored breathing.

I asked, “What's wrong, Mo?”

“Mommy, I had a nightmare about Auntie Frankie. I saw her car on fire.”

Blue said, “Oh, no. Sorry I woke you and took you down there, Monica, but I didn't have another choice. Auntie Frankie called and she was upset, so we needed to be there for her right then.”

I said, “It was just a dream.”

“Can I call her to make sure she's okay?”

“We'll call her first thing in the morning.”

“In my dream Uncle Franklin was in the car with her.”

Blue said, “He's not your uncle anymore. When people go away, when they pretend to be something but are really something else, when they lie, you're nothing to them, so they are nothing to you. He was a liar. He broke Auntie's heart. Never care about someone who breaks your heart.”

His words were to her, but I felt like they were directed at me.

Blue and I moved over, made room for her to climb up.

I wrapped my arms around her. She was my life vest. She was my child.

Soon the phone rang again. It was Livvy calling this time. She and Tony were heading over to Sepulveda in Westchester. Someone had broken out the window at Frankie's real estate business.

I said, “You're joking.”

In a worried tone Livvy asked, “What the hell is going on?”

“I have no idea.”

Blue leapt to his feet, hurried and dressed, grabbed his keys, and went to help my sister. I called Frankie's number, but it went straight to voice mail. She had to be on the other line with the police.

I called Livvy back, but she didn't answer either. I kept the phone in my hand.

Monica and I stayed on the sofa, waiting to hear what the damn problem was this time.

Blue's rage-filled monologue, the confession of his angst, it echoed, resounded inside of me.

I whispered, “Ambition.”

Two hours later, Blue came back home.

I heard his car pull up, saw the lights come on inside. He searched the house, didn't see me, then came to the back door, saw the light was on in the backyard. I was out on Mo's swing set, on the end swing, slowly moving back and forth, the metal chain creaking with each movement, needing some WD-40 to remove the unwanted friction. If only all friction could be fixed so easily. He came out and sat in the swing on the other end, left a space between us. He started swinging, added creaky sounds to mine.

I asked, “What happened to the drama queen this time?”

“Someone had thrown a cinder block through her business window.”

“Same night her car was messed up.”

“She's tight-lipped. Says it's two random events. Same night. Hours apart.”

“Franklin?”

“Hope not. He's up in the Bay. But he's not that kind of guy. He's all mouth.”

“Do you talk to him?”

“He calls to check in from time to time. He misses Monica.”

“He misses kicking it with you and Tony and watching the games all day on Sundays.”

“That too. We had become a band of brothers; now he is kicked out of the brotherhood. He misses hanging with us.”

“Don't talk to him. Don't
ever
let Monica talk to him. He betrayed us all.”

“He just wanted to know if I thought he had a chance with Frankie.”

I took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. “Thanks for being there for my sister.”

“No problem. She's my sister. Same as Livvy. We're all family.”

Friction
.
Friction
.
Friction
.

Then the sound stopped when we ceased moving.

We sat still, the cool breeze covering us. Police helicopters appeared in the distance. They were on the hunt for someone in the vicinity of Rodeo Road and MLK.

I said, “I hope another black man doesn't get gunned down. In the old days, in the Westerns, you never shot a man in the back. Anyone who shot a man in the back was a coward. If a cop shoots a citizen in the back like that, if he shoots a man in the back then lies about it, that cop is worse than a coward.”

“It's open season on black people, and too many of the cowards have badges and guns. We're paying for our own murders with our tax dollars.”

“This has been going on since before Rodney King.”

Blue said, “This season of hate and disrespect started in 1619. That's how long the black man has been mistreated in this country, since the first slave ship landed here.”

“Now it's something new on video every damn day.”

“Same problem every day; it's exhausting. That's why black people are suffering from racial fatigue syndrome.”

“When anything goes on too long, it wears you down. Nobody wants to have to deal with negativity day after day.”

“I agree. Negativity can change your spirit.”

“It wears you down because you can't see it ending.”

“Again, I agree.”

We were no longer talking about cops and racism. The
conversation had evolved and the negativity we were addressing was our own. Being with Blue used to feel perfect.

He asked me what I was thinking. I said what was on my mind. I didn't hide my true feelings. We were beyond that now.

He said, “Being with you used to feel perfect, Tommie.”

“Used to.”

“Used to.”

We watched the sky, stared up at the helicopter like it was our own problems circling us, chasing us, and trying to shine its light down on us. There was no escaping where we were.

Blue asked, “What do you want to do now, Tommie?”

“I don't know.”

“You're at a fork in the road.”

I whispered, “‘Two roads diverged in a yellow wood.'”

“And I have to let you know, you can't travel both. I won't tolerate it. Don't test me.”

“And don't test me. Neither can you, Blue. You can't travel both. I know you love me, but I need more. You can't expect me to be a wife and to never be able to be a mother. I won't tolerate that either.”

He said, “I know you won't. You shouldn't.”

“If I am to be your wife, I have to fully be your wife.”

“‘If.' Everything is ‘if' now. Condoms are in your car, and now we are at the ‘if' part. Those condoms have been in your car awhile. I keep waiting for the day one goes missing.”

“You've been spying on me.”

“Not spying. Just losing trust. Am I wrong, Tommie?”

I wiped tears from my eyes.

Blue sighed, his hands opening and closing on the chains supporting his swing.

He paused, whispered, “I wish I had met you before I met Angela.”

“Everything would have been perfect.”

“Not perfect. Just would have had different issues.”

“True. There will always be issues.”

“If I had met you before Angela, I wouldn't have Mo.”

“Who are we without Mo between us? Who would we be then? Would we have connected?”

“You're my heartbeat, Tommie.”

“Don't make me cry. How can you do that? Make me so angry I can't breathe, then say one sentence and make me cry?”

“You do the same to me.”

“You're my heartbeat.”

“You're my heart. You made this cold soul warm again. I don't know how I existed before I met you. Don't know how I will after.”

“You made me forget this burn on my face. You made me forget my heart was ever broken.”

“You are my heartbeat and the beat is getting slower. I have to prepare for it to stop.”

I heard an angelic voice at the back door. “Mommy?”

Blue and I jumped, surprised the cherub of the house was awake and on night patrol.

Blue asked, “Why does she always call out for you first?”

“Girl power. Stop hating, Blue.”

Blue called out, “Go back to bed, Monica.”

“You're back home, Daddy?”

“I'm home, Monica. Why are you up?”

“Is Mommy gone to help Auntie Frankie?”

I called out, “Come here, Monica.”

“I can come outside when it's dark?”

“Yeah. You can this time.”

“Are any bears or rattlesnakes or ugly people out there?”

“Bears are in the forest and rattlesnakes are in the mountains.” I chuckled. “Come here.”

Monica came outside, paused, then went back inside, ran to her bedroom to get her trainers.

Blue looked at me. “She has to be up early for school.”

I said, “It's about memories. When she's older, she will remember being on a swing with her dad in the middle of the night while the rest of the world was sleeping. She'll remember you being a fun dad.”

“You remember your dad being a fun dad?”

“I remember back rides and going to movies and him picking me up from school every day. I remember being jealous when he started giving Frankie and Livvy rides on my favorite back too. I had to share my father's back with them.”

“Weren't Livvy and Frankie too old for back rides?”

“You're never too old for back rides, Blue. I still like back rides. You haven't given me a back ride in a long time.”

“Didn't know you wanted a back ride.”

“I shouldn't have to ask. Mo shouldn't have to ask.”

“I'm not much of a fun dad, am I? I work too much. I worry too much. I get too serious. I've done it all wrong.”

“You're a good man, Blue. You're one of the best.”

“But am I fun? Does Monica like being around me, or does she tolerate me? Would she rather be with her mother? She's a girl and maybe I'm wrong for fighting to have custody. Maybe I did this wrong.”

“If she were with her mother she'd go wild. You'd end up watching Hannah Montana change into Miley Cyrus in your own home, under your own roof, one bottle of Patrón and a blunt at a time.”

“She always does what you say and ignores me or asks you for the last word on an issue.”

“I'm closer to her age. It's like we're sisters and you're always acting like you're our father.”

“Jokes, always jokes.”

“You are more fun when I show you how to be more fun.”

Mo came outside, looked around for bears, then ran to us and climbed into the other swing.

She said, “Don't argue. Don't fight. People who love each other aren't supposed to fight.”

I said, “We weren't fighting.”

“You were fighting in my dream. I woke up to tell you to stop fighting and go to sleep.”

Blue said, “She's a McBroom.”

“Yeah. She is. My mother had dreams and visions and saw crazy things in her head too.”

“Mommy, Daddy, swing higher. Make your feet touch the stars like this.”

“Mo—”

“Blue, be the fun dad. Just do it. Learn from her as we teach her.”

A second police helicopter light disrupted the desert city's darkness a few blocks away. They were in the direction of Slauson. At the same time police sirens also lit up Crenshaw Boulevard. The constant din in this EBT-accepted area reminded me that I wasn't inside a swank house on the hill where no sound penetrated the walls. Blue, Mo, and I, we sat in the swings. Ours was a used swing set we had bought on Craigslist after we'd moved in. We went back and forth, made creak after creak, each time sounding squeakier, louder. They laughed, Blue and Monica, father and daughter, tried to outdo each other. Mo was very competitive. Mo called for me to try to beat her to the stars. I accepted the challenge and joined in on the competition, went higher and higher, higher and higher.

Our feet touched the stars, tickled constellations.

We made our little backyard our own private Disneyland. Tonight, in the middle of the night, this was better than being in a private booth at Nic's Beverly Hills, a Sofitel luxury hotel, or having dinner at a top-of-the-line restaurant like Mastro's.

Throat tightened. Face warm. More tears fell from my face. They couldn't see me cry, but I cried.

As we talked and laughed, I knew I would always remember that
moment. That moment right there; if I could have put time in a bottle, I would have saved that moment. I didn't want it to end. I wanted to swing forever.

It would be hard to leave there. But I knew that I had to go. It was already written.

Blue had to do what was best for him, and I had to do what was best for me. My money had all been invested in this house, in this family. I needed to be able to take care of myself when I walked out of that door. I needed to be independent.

It became clear to me then. I needed to stop spending my money on another woman's child so I could save enough money to start over. I had to prepare myself to move on.