Tyrell (4 page)

I ain't wanna come back to Bennett, but I know how my moms is, and sometime she don't know how to deal with Troy by herself for too long. My moms get frustrated and she be itching to go out with her friends and shit, ‘specially on a Saturday night. A couple times she left Troy alone just ‘cause she couldn't take being locked up in the apartment. That's why I made sure Troy know my cell number, so he could call me if our moms ever leave him alone.

I go to our room and knock, but this time my moms don't curse me out and tell me to go away. This time she open the door looking all tired and mad and shit. “Where you been?” she ask with an attitude.

“None of your business.” I squeeze past her and go inside. Troy is sitting on the bed watching TV, eating them Cheez Doodles I bought yesterday. Probably ain't eat nothing but junk all day.

My moms close the door. “Your little girlfriend braid your
hair?” I don't say nothing ‘cause she know who braided my hair. “What you got in that bag?” she ask.

“None of your business,” I say again. “It ain't for you, no way. It's for Troy.”

My moms look like she ‘bout to argue, but then she change her mind. “I'm going out with Val and Joanne tonight.”

“Where y'all going?”

“None of your business.”

“A'ight,” I say. “Be like that.” I open the Red Lobster bag and pull out the plastic container. As soon as I open the bag, the food smell so good it fill up the room. I put the container on the bed.

“Shit,” my moms say, sucking her teeth. “How you get this?”

“Novisha moms and pops took us out for dinner.”

“I thought they was divorced.”

“They are.”

My moms shake her head. “Damn shame when two grown-ass people can't stay together for they kid.”

I look at her like she out her mind. “Like you and your man, right?” I say. “Y'all doing real good together. You here in a shelter, him locked up at Rikers.”

“Shut up, Tyrell.” She roll her eyes again and grab a biscuit before I can stop her.

“Here, Troy,” I say. “This for you.” Then I turn the bag upside down. “Damn, I forgot to get you a fork.”

Troy make a face, then he say, “Hey, I got an idea.” He run over to his backpack and come back to the bed with two new pencils. “These are chopsticks,” he say with a smile on his face. “Watch me, Tyrell.”

“You suck on them pencils and you gonna get sick,” I say.

“I ain't gonna suck on them. Watch.”

I watch him struggle to keep the shrimp and rice on the pencils, then he kinda let the food fall into his mouth. The pencils don't even hardly touch him. He smile. “See?”

“Yeah, that's good,” I say. “You smart.” I don't say nothing ‘bout the mess he making on the bed and floor. A couple more roaches at Bennett ain't gonna change nothing. Least he eating something.

My moms go in the bathroom to take her shower. Me and Troy just talk. I tell him that he can't stay up all night ‘cause tomorrow he gonna do all that homework he was s'posed to turn in last week, plus whatever he gotta do for Monday.

“Mommy said I ain't going to school on Monday. We going to see the caseworker.”

“You don't gotta go to that meeting. You ain't missing no more school. How you gonna make it outta special ed if you keep being absent?”

“Mommy don't want me to get outta special ed.”

“Forget what she say. I'm telling you, if you work hard and stop missing so much school you can be in a regular class next year with regular kids. Ain't nothin' wrong with you.”

Troy don't say nothing else, but I can tell he don't believe me. That's ‘cause my moms got him thinking he slow when the only reason he even in special ed is ‘cause you can get a SSI check every month if you got a retarded kid. My moms probably paid some doctor to evaluate Troy and say he slow, then they put him in special ed, like it ain't matter that there wasn't never nothing wrong with him. Now I don't know if he ever gonna get back to the regular class.

Troy keep eating and eating like someone gonna take the
food away if he don't eat everything in, like, five minutes. “Eat them vegetables,” I tell him.

He make a face, but he do what I say.

When we had our own apartment and my pops was home, my moms used to cook everyday. That's ‘cause my pops wasn't hearing no kinda excuses from her. My moms wasn't working, so what else she had to do but cook? But as soon as my pops got locked up again, it was like she forgot how to cook. All we ate was pizza, McDonald's, and chicken wings and pork fried rice from the Chinese take-out place. The only time Troy ate real food was at school. Me, I only ate good at Novisha house. Being at Bennett is even worse ‘cause here we don't got no stove or microwave, so we can't eat no real food even if we wanted.

After my moms leave, I let Troy spend ‘bout a half hour playing my Game Boy. Then, when he sleep, I go through his backpack trying to figure out what work he gotta do by Monday. There's a note stapled to the cover of his notebook.

Dear Mrs. Green,

I would like to schedule an appointment to meet with you as soon as possible regarding Troy's schoolwork as well as other important issues. Please indicate when you can meet with me at the bottom of this letter and return it on Monday. I am available after school every day except this Thursday.

Thank you,
Mrs. Kimberly Morton

I know Troy work ain't all that good, but I don't know what Mrs. Morton mean when she say “other important issues.” I hope she ain't trying to make a report to ACS for nothing ‘cause that's
not what I'm trying to hear right now. We ain't had a ACS case in a couple years, ever since my pops got released last time and got us out the system. This time I'ma make sure my moms don't lose custody of us ‘cause that foster care shit ain't no joke. Troy don't need to go through that again.

I put all Troy work out on the dresser and take out some of his school clothes so they won't be too wrinkled on Monday. Then I'm just bored as hell, so I call Novisha.

“She's asleep, Tyrell,” Ms. Jenkins tell me. “She has to get to church early tomorrow. The Sunday school teacher got the flu, so Novisha's taking her place.”

“Man, she really involved in everything.”

“That's my girl. I don't know how she manages to do so much for other people, but she does. Tonight's award is proof of that, right?”

“Right,” I say. “Oh, yeah, thanks for dinner tonight. Troy loved the food too.”

“Good, I'm glad. How's he doing, your brother?”

“He doing a'ight,” I say, then I tell her ‘bout how much school he been missing and how I'ma try to get him ready for school on Monday.

Ms. Jenkins tell me to work with him but that I gotta have patience and all that. Then she tell me something that really fuck with me. She say, “After we dropped you off at the train, Novisha told me you doing a lot better in school yourself, Tyrell. She said you getting all B's this semester, which is really something, especially with all your family's going through now.”

Man, I don't even know what to say to that shit, so I just go, “Can you tell Novisha I called? I just wanted to tell her that I'm, you know, proud of her.”

“I will.” In my mind I can almost see Ms. Jenkins smiling. I know exactly what to say to keep her liking me. “Good night,” she say.

I tell her good night, then flip my cell closed. Damn. Novisha ain't tell her moms I don't be going to school no more. And it ain't like I just stopped going last week or something. I ain't been there in, like, a month now. Novisha been trying to get me to go back, but I ain't hearing none of that. She don't go to the kinda school I used to go to, and she don't know what kinda shit I had to deal with everyday.

And I can see if she just let her moms keep thinking I was in school, but here she is talking ‘bout my grades and shit. Straight-out lying. Like she gotta make up shit to make me look good or something. You ask me, it shouldn't matter to Novisha if I'm in school or outta school. School is her thing, not mines.

I lay down on the other bed just feeling myself getting madder and madder. I'm kinda mad at Novisha for lying ‘bout me, but most of all I'm just mad at my whole situation.

Why I gotta be here at Bennett with no money and no real apartment? Why I gotta be spending my Saturday night in this nasty room instead of having fun like guys my age is s'posed to? And why my father gotta be locked up instead of here taking care of his family so I don't gotta be worrying ‘bout us all the time?

My moms don't get back to Bennett ‘til after two and she fucked up. I know she been drinking, and I can tell when she been smoking weed too, ‘cause she be talking all loud and shit and making no kinda sense. Damn. She having more fun than me.

“I'm through with your pops,” she say way too loud, waking up Troy. “I'm through living like this. You understand me, Ty?” She lean against the door trying to take off her shoes, but she all off balance, so she just slide down to the floor and pull them off. Then she stand up and look at herself in the mirror. “Shit, that club was fulla fine niggas tonight and I coulda had any one of them. Know why?” She smile at herself in the mirror and don't wait for no kinda answer. “ ‘Cause I'm still hot, that's why. ‘Cause your moms still got it goin' on. But I don't get to do nothing with none of them, right? No, I gotta be faithful, right? Well, why I gotta be so damn faithful? Shit. I'm tired of wasting my time waiting for your father again and again and again. Let me tell you, Ty. I need me a man now, right here. Right here! Shit, if I had a man, I wouldn't even be here.” She sit on the bed Troy trying to sleep on and get all sad and shit. “This ain't right. It ain't fair.” Now she get them tears running down her face. “You understand me, Ty? You know where I'm coming from, right?”

I just stare at her ‘cause I know better than to answer any of them dumb drunk-ass questions. Not that she gonna stop talking neither. My moms don't get drunk or high all the time, but when she do, ain't nobody getting no sleep. She gonna be talking and crying and laughing and shit all night.

Damn.

Jasmine knock on my door early in the morning, a couple hours after I finally get my moms to shut up and go to bed. “Tyrell,” Jasmine say in between knocks. It's like she trying to whisper, but she doing it real loud. “Wake up.”

I get outta bed, but I'm not really feeling this. I was trying to get through the weekend without seeing her.

When I open the door, she standing in the hallway wearing her jacket and hat like she ‘bout to go somewhere. And she look hot, still in them same tight jeans from the other day.

“Your hair looks nice like that,” she tell me. “Your girlfriend braided it?”

“Yeah.” I still don't know what she doing here.

“Get dressed,” she say. “One of the guards downstairs told me that this church around here gives out free breakfast to homeless people. I don't wanna go alone.”

“Church?” I ain't even hardly awake, and the light in the hall is killing my eyes right ‘bout now.

“Yeah. The service starts at eight. The only thing is, you have to sit through the whole thing if you wanna eat. So, you coming or what?” She smile, flashing them horrible braces. “Pleeease.”

“When you getting them things off your teeth?” I ask, still half ‘sleep.

“Why?” she ask, but she know why I'm asking.

“Nah, nothing.” I gotta get them thoughts out my head anyway ‘cause ain't nothing gonna happen with us no more. I'ma make sure of that.

“C'mon, hurry up,” she say again. “Wake up your mother and brother. The guard said the food is good.”

I open the door a little wider, and for a second I don't even wanna turn the lights on. Not ‘cause my moms is gonna wake up and get mad, but ‘cause it's too early to deal with all them roaches.

But I don't got no choice. I flip the light switch and watch the roaches run. I swear, there's more now than before. Probably ‘cause of all that rice and shit Troy spilled on the floor last night.

I wake Troy up. “What's the matter?” he ask.

“Nothing,” I say. “Get up. We gonna go get a good breakfast.”

My moms is ‘sleep and I ain't trying to wake her. She real mean and nasty when she hungover. So I grab me and Troy clothes, shake the roaches out our sneakers, and get dressed without even washing up ‘cause we don't got no time. I know we funky, but we gotta go.

It's real cold outside and it's dark. Jasmine say she heard it's gonna snow today.

Troy get all happy and shit when he hear that. “I hope we don't have no school tomorrow.” He start jumping ‘round like it's
the best news he ever heard. I remember when I used to be like that, when I was little. Man, snow days used to be real fun.

We walk through the streets real fast, trying to get to this church before eight. We pass burned-out buildings and factories, and empty lots covered with nothin' but garbage. The whole neighborhood is fucked up. A couple blocks later we start seeing some stores and shit. Everything is closed now and the streets is damn-near empty.

“Where were you yesterday?” Jasmine ask me. “I was looking for you. All the other guys were down in the lobby acting like idiots. The guard had to chase them outside because they were making too much noise.”

“You hanging with them guys now?”

“No, I was looking for you, but you weren't around. What am I supposed to do? Just sit in my room all day looking at the roaches?”

We walk some more without talking. I don't get this girl. She can't be alone for a second? Now she got me wondering if she did something with them other guys.

Troy is in front of me, and when he get to the curb he just step down into the street without even looking for cars. I run over and grab his arm. “What I say ‘bout running in the street?”

He try to get outta my grip. “Stop yelling, Ty.”

“You too old for this,” I tell him. I'm trying to control my temper, but this shit don't make no kinda sense. “Gimme your hand. You wanna act like a damn two-year-old, then that's how I'ma treat you.” I hold his hand tight the whole rest of the way.

The church is called Iglesia de Dios del Bronx. But this ain't no real church like the one Novisha go to. This one is just like a
small store on a block with a whole bunch of other stores. I ain't lying when I say this church is mad ghetto. I mean, how you gonna put a church between a barbershop and a 99-cent store?

“Oh, yeah,” Jasmine whisper when we just ‘bout to go inside. “I forgot to tell you. The whole mass is in Spanish.” She smile again like she being funny. “But don't worry about it. Just think about the food.”

And that's exactly what I do. I sit there so fucking bored for, like, two hours just waiting to eat. After ‘bout five minutes, Troy put his head on my shoulder and he out cold. Jasmine is kinda paying attention. She don't look like the church type, but I can tell she used to go a lot ‘cause she still know them Spanish prayers.

The church is real small, but it ain't bad inside. They got red carpet all over and white folding chairs. They don't got no stained glass like at the church where Novisha goes, but they do got posters of stained glass. And they got big statues and a giant cross on the wall. It look kinda like a church. But a real low-budget one.

I ain't really into church myself. Besides when Novisha take me to her church for the Christmas show or some other thing she involved with, I ain't been to church since I was a little kid. Back in the day, my grandmother used to take us to her church every now and then, and that shit used to last all day. All the kids was put in the basement for Sunday school, and we would hafta sing songs and shit. It used to be fun, but no matter what them people said, I never really believed in God ‘cause I knew if there was a God he wouldn't never take my pops away from me. And my pops always taught me not to depend on nobody but myself.

This church ain't much different from the church I used to go to with my grandmother, ‘cept here I don't understand a word the pastor is saying. When they pass ‘round the collection plate,
only the people in the front of the church put any money in. The rest of us, in the back, is the homeless people. They don't even bring the plate by us, probably ‘cause we more likely to take money than put anything in.

After the service is done, the pastor come down the aisle and say something in Spanish to us in the back. Half the homeless people was ‘sleep, so they start stretching and yawning and trying to wake theyself up. I shake Troy a little and he get up. He got lines and shit on his face from pressing into my jacket so long.

“Breakfast is ready downstairs,” Jasmine whisper to me. “C'mon.”

We all go downstairs and sit down at these round tables with blue plastic tablecloths. There's only ‘bout twenty-five people waiting for food, but we the only kids. Everybody else is just old people and a couple crackheads.

The food smell real spicy, and my stomach is talkin'. When they call our table, we line up and the church ladies load our trays up with all kinda Spanish food. I carry our tray back to the table, then we all sit down and tear into our food.

I'm eatin' some kinda eggs with peppers in it, ham, fried plantains, and a lot of other Spanish food I ain't never seen before. I don't really know what the fuck I'm eating, but the shit is good. And I'm eating so fast, I ain't even picking my head up in between bites.

While we eating, the pastor say something else in Spanish and everyone start clapping. “That lady over there,” Jasmine tell me and Troy, looking over at a short woman wearing a white apron, “she owns a restaurant around here and she made all this food for us.”

I don't say nothing, but I do wanna know what she get outta
giving away free food. You ask me, ain't nobody doing something for nothin'.

Then one of the church ladies say something and everyone line up again. “They're gonna pack up the leftovers for us,” Jasmine say. “I'm gonna get some for me and Reyna.”

“She back?”

“She's coming back today.” I'm ‘bout to ask her where Reyna went, but she get up from the table too fast. Me and Troy follow her and stand in that long, slow line again. Man, this shit is fucking embarrassing already. How many times they gonna make us line up and beg for food?

Before we leave, the lady from the restaurant come up to Jasmine and they talk for a couple minutes in Spanish. The lady give her a business card. Then Jasmine walk over to the door where me and Troy is standing. “That lady wants me to come to her restaurant and interview for a job.” She smiling all big and shiny. “And I need a job too. This is great.”

“When you going on the interview?”

“She told me to call her this week to set something up.”

When we leave the church, it's already snowing. It's freezing and Troy don't got no hat or gloves, and his coat is ripped up under the arm. But he don't seem to mind. The second we get outside, he start running ‘round, making the first footprints in the snow.

Me and Jasmine walk behind him. Jasmine smoking, but I ain't thinking ‘bout no cigarette. I don't want nothing to spoil the taste of that food in my mouth.

“You mad at me about the other night?” Jasmine ask after we been walking for a couple minutes without saying nothing.

“Nah,” I say. “It's just, you know, I got a girl. So what
happened between me and you wasn't cool. Know what I'm saying?”

She don't say nothing. She just keep on smoking.

We walk a few more minutes. The only thing I hear is the cars and buses driving through the slush in the street. Everything white now when just a couple hours ago there wasn't even no snow yet. The neighborhood actually look halfway decent now.

“How did your family end up at the EAU?” Jasmine ask me. I can tell she trying to change the subject.

To be honest, I was thinking ‘bout asking her the same thing on the bus the other day, but I ain't wanna get all up in her business. But now here she is, getting all up in mines.

“My pops is locked up,” I tell her. “And my moms can't keep no job. After a couple months of not paying the rent, our landlord took us to court and got us evicted.” I say all this like it ain't no big deal, but the truth is, I'm real fuckin' mad ‘bout the way my moms handled her shit. She knew what my pops was up to, and she knew he was gonna violate his parole, so why she ain't plan what she was gonna do when he got locked up again? And why my pops ain't plan to take care of his family? What kinda man do that to his wife and kids?

Jasmine shake her head. “Why's your father in jail? Selling?”

“Nah, not this time,” I say. I don't really wanna tell her too much, not ‘cause I don't trust her, but ‘cause I don't really know her. “He violated his parole,” I tell her. I know that ain't really saying nothing, but it's the truth.

The whole truth is my pops been in and out of jail three times. He a DJ and he be throwing these wild, off-the-hook parties. The first time he got locked up was for selling drugs at his
parties. I was only four or five then so all I knew was one day he was there, and we was living in the projects all happy and shit, and things was good and then the next day my pops was gone and my moms was crying all the time. My grandmother was still alive back then and she came to live with us. She helped my moms out and took care of me, so it wasn't so bad even though I still missed my pops. He got out the day before my eighth birthday, and that night we all went out to dinner and I got to sit next to him. I thought everything was gonna be back to normal.

That feeling ain't lasted long. A couple years later he was locked up again. This time the police was callin' him a pimp, which he ain't and never was. He just threw some real wild parties, and hos would show up just so they could work the men in the crowd. He said they would make more money at one of his parties than they did in two or three days on the streets. And the men ain't had no problem with them being there.

But the police did. They got my pops for selling drugs, selling alcohol without a liquor license, running numbers, and pimping girls. He had to serve three years of a five-year sentence. By the time they let him out, Troy was already five and I was thirteen, and me and him was already in the system.

We get to a corner, and this time Troy wait for me and grab my hand. We cross the street and then he go running off again. He still making footprints in the snow, but now he trying to walk backwards in them same prints. He fall twice, but least he havin' fun. And his coat is already beat down, so it don't really matter none.

And now I'm here thinkin' ‘bout my pops and them parties he used to run. He started letting me go to the parties after he got me and Troy outta foster care. I'll never forget seeing my pops up
there playing all that old-skool shit like Cameo and Maze. Just jammin'. The place he rented was packed. Niggas was in there getting they party on, like they ain't never been out before. Everybody was drunk and high, and there was the finest females there working them niggas for every cent they had in they pockets.

First time a girl ever blew me was at that first party. Girl was, like, eighteen or nineteen, and she ain't care that I was only thirteen. She pulled me behind one of them big speakers and got down on her knees. She ain't want no money or nothin'. She told me she was doing it just ‘cause I was Tyrone kid. I had a smile on my face for two fuckin' weeks after that.

Jasmine is staring at me. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothin',” I say. “Nothin'.” We get to another corner and Troy try to grab my hand again, but this time I don't let him. He too old for that to be a habit. He gotta start taking care of hisself. I watch him look for cars, then run ‘cross to the other side.

“I need to stop at that bodega over there,” Jasmine say while we crossing the street.

“More cigarettes?”

“That was my last one.”