Concrete Rose, page 3
“Okay,” Lisa says. “See you this weekend?”
“Nah. I’m not allowed to go anywhere.”
“Dang. What did you do?”
That’s a loaded-ass question. “You know how it go. I’ll holla at you.”
We tell each other “I love you” like we always do, and I hang up with a deep breath. “Li’l Man, you almost got me in trouble.”
He stop sucking his bottle long enough to stretch his mouth and yawn. He clearly don’t care.
He halfway done eating. Guess I gotta burp him now. Ma said hold him against my shoulder and gently pat his back. I pat once, twice, three times—
He hiccup. Something warm ooze down my back.
“Ill, man!” I hop off the couch. This boy puked on me. He cry, and shoot, I wanna cry. “Ma!”
“What now, Maverick?” she says, and come to the doorway again. She got the nerve to smirk. “Welcome to parenthood, where clothes never stay clean.”
“What should I do?”
“Put a towel over your shoulder next time. For now, finish feeding him and burp him again.”
“I gotta sit here with puke on me?”
“What I tell you? It’s not about you anymore. You gon’ learn. Looks like you got the best teacher.”
He could’ve kept this lesson to himself, for real.
The doorbell ring. Ma peek out the front window first. After the Feds bust into your house, you’ll always be careful. She open the door. “Hey, Andre baby.”
“Hey, Auntie. Did y’all get the test—” He notice me and my son, and his eyes get wide. “Yooo! He really is yours?”
“Yep. He mine.”
“Daaaang,” Dre says as he step into the house. “He do look like you, so I shouldn’t be real surprised.”
“Mmm-hmm. And he’s already putting Mav through it.” Ma chuckle.
Glad somebody think this funny. “Man, I burped him, and he puked on me.”
Dre crack up. “Gotta have the towel at all times, cuz.” He come around to see Li’l Man as he rest against my shoulder. “Hey, itty-bitty cuz. I’m Dre. One day I’ll teach you how to ball since your pops can’t.”
“Forget you,” I say.
“I only speak facts. You keeping him overnight or something?”
I sit on the edge of the couch, get Li’l Man situated, and feed him again. “I don’t know. Iesha and her momma bounced.”
Dre lower the bottle I’m holding. “Don’t feed him fast. What you mean they bounced?”
“We took him to the restroom to change him, came back, and they were gone.”
“Shit – shoot.” Dre try not to cuss in front of Ma. “Did y’all look for them?”
“We went by the house, and nobody was there,” Ma says. “I shouldn’t be surprised that Yolanda’s trifling behind would pull something like this.”
“Dang,” Dre says. “Well, hey, if y’all need a crib, we still got Andreanna’s old one in storage and her stroller. I can bring them over later.”
“That’s sweet of you, baby. Thank you.” Ma grab her purse off the couch. “I’m gonna go pick up some dinner from Reuben’s. Lord knows I am not in the mood to cook. Y’all behave while I’m gone.”
“Yes, ma’am,” we both say. Even though Dre twenty-three, he do whatever Ma tell him.
She leave, and Dre sit beside me on the couch. He watch me feed Li’l Man.
“Damn, Mav. You really a father.”
“I still can’t believe it.”
“I get that. Fatherhood is a trip, but I couldn’t imagine my life without my baby girl. Even as bad as she is.”
I laugh. “She can’t be that bad. She only three.”
“Shiiid. She think she know everything, and she get into everything. People say twos are terrible. Nah, three. Three is next level.” He get quiet for a second. “I’m gon’ miss her li’l bad butt after I drop her and Keisha off.”
A couple of years ago, Keisha moved outta town to attend Markham State and took Andreanna with her. It’s only two hours away, and Dre visit every weekend. He stay in the Garden to help Aunt ’Nita with Uncle Ray after Unc had a stroke last year.
“Hold tight, man,” I say. “Before you know it, Keisha will be graduating and y’all will be saying your vows in July.”
“If I can survive all this wedding stuff.” He grab the back of my neck. “You good?”
Hell no. My life got thrown into a blender and I’m left with something I don’t recognize. On top of that, I’m suddenly somebody’s pops and I wish I had my pops.
Nah, man. I can’t freak out. I gotta handle mine, on some G shit. “I ain’t tripping.”
“You know it’s okay to be scared, right?”
“Scared of what? A li’l baby?”
“Of all the stuff that come with having a li’l baby,” Dre says. “First time I held Andreanna, I cried. She was so beautiful, and she was stuck with me for a father.”
I look at my son, and damn, I feel that.
“I decided I was gon’ be the kinda father she deserved,” he says. “I had to man up. That’s what you gotta do, Mav. Man up.”
“Fool, I’m a man already,” I say.
Dre put his hands up. “My bad. You a man. You such a man that you slinging behind me and Shawn backs.”
I almost lose my grip on my son. “What?”
“You heard me. You buying your girl expensive necklaces, rocking new sneakers every week. I know how much money you pull in, working for us. I made sure it’s just enough so you can help Auntie Faye out a little bit. Where you getting this extra money from?”
I hold my son against my shoulder and burp him again. “I told you I do odd jobs.”
“Yeah, right! Don’t bullshit me. Who put you on? Where you getting your supply from?”
“I ain’t no snitch, Dre.”
“Ohhhh, so you are doing something on the side.”
“Nah, I didn’t mean that!” I say.
“Yeah, you did. I bet it was King, wasn’t it? Yeah, he seem like the type to go rogue.”
Shit, shit, shit. “Dre, I can’t—”
“I won’t rat you out to Shawn,” he says. “You claim you a man, prove it. Men own up to their shit. Own up to yours.”
Damn, he had to put it like that. I gotta admit I felt real bad hiding this from Dre. He the big brother I never had. We never keep secrets from each other. And even if I don’t admit it, he gon’ find a way to get the truth. That could be real bad for King.
I set my son back in his car seat as he fade off to sleep. I can’t let my homeboy get in trouble. I gotta take this one for the team.
“A’ight, yeah,” I say. “I been selling other drugs on the side. Nobody helping. I found a way to get it myself.”
Dre sighs. “What the hell, Mav?”
“I wanna make money! You and Shawn wouldn’t let me sell nothing but weed.”
“’Cause we looking out for you and the li’l homies. Selling that other shit is dangerous in more ways than one. You don’t need to be doing that.”
I just look at him. “Fool, you do it!” For real, he got some nerve lecturing me.
“I’m smart with mine, unlike you,” Dre says. “You probably careless enough to lead the cops right to you. You honestly need to leave this dealing shit alone, period. Weed, rocks, pills, powder, whatever. Let it all go.”
“What? See, now you tripping.”
“I’m serious, Mav. You got a son to think about now—”
“You got a daughter.”
“Yeah, and I want you to learn from my mistakes and be a better father than me,” Dre says. “I hate that this how I gotta provide for Andreanna, but I’m too caught up to get out. You not.” He poke my chest. “We could get you a regular job like Wal-Mart or Mickey D’s—”
“That ain’t no kinda money!”
“It’s clean money,” Dre says. “I can talk to Shawn ’bout letting you out the set, too.”
“Oh, you tripping for real,” I say. “Shawn can’t just ‘let me out.’ You know that. You saw what happened to Kenny.”
Kenny is this King Lord who once played football for Garden High. He got a full scholarship offer to one of them big universities and decided he wanted out. Guess he didn’t want the school discovering his gang ties. There’s only a few ways to get out the King Lords – you either put in some major work like taking a charge for somebody, or you get jumped out. Kenny got jumped. The big homies beat him so bad he ended up in a coma. When he woke up, he was too banged up to take that football scholarship anyway. Getting out ain’t worth it.
“Maybe we could figure out a different way for you,” Dre says.
I shake my head. “Quit lying to yourself, man. Why should I get out anyway? Kinging in our blood, remember?”
“You could break the cycle,” Dre says. “Be better than me, Unc, all of us. Do things the right way.”
“Yeah, that’s easy to say when you driving around in a Beamer,” I say. “You a hypocrite, dawg. You also a damn fool if you think I’m walking away from this money, especially now that I got a kid.”
“It’s like that? A’ight,” Dre says, nodding. “Either you give it up or I tell Auntie and Uncle Don.”
“Then you’d have to admit to them that you let me sell weed.”
“I’m willing to own up to mine like a man. I’ll also tell Shawn what King doing.”
“I told you, King not involved.”
“Yeah right,” Dre says. “This got his name all on it. You don’t have to admit it. Me and Shawn will look into it and handle him ourselves.”
“You said you wouldn’t bring Shawn in this!”
“No, I said I wouldn’t rat you out to him. I didn’t say I wouldn’t rat out King. So what’s it gon’ be, cuz? Let drug dealing go completely or let you and your boy both get in trouble?”
“This blackmail!”
“It’s your choice to see it that way,” Dre says.
“It is that way! How I know you still won’t rat King out?” I ask.
“I trust you to talk to him and remind him of the consequences that come with doing shit like this,” Dre says. “I promise if I think you back at it, I’m snitching on him and you.”
“Dre, c’mon. Please?”
“This on you, Mav. Your call.”
I fold my hands on top of my head. Goddamn! This ’bout the worst way this could go. I wanna keep making money, but I don’t wanna get in trouble with my folks. I don’t want King to get hurt either.
I ain’t got much of a choice. “A’ight,” I say. “I’ll stop selling drugs.”
Do Dre tell me he proud of my decision? Do he give me props for looking out for my boy? Nah, he sit back on the couch and go, “That’s what I thought. Now go get me a soda. I’m thirsty from dealing with your li’l hardheaded behind.”
CHAPTER 4
I finally got Iesha on the phone Saturday night.
“I need a break, Maverick,” she said, and her voice was real rough. “I been crying all the time, and my head get in these real dark places. He don’t need to be around me.”
It sounded like what Keisha went through after she had Andreanna. I think Ma called it “postnatal depression.”
“You seen a doctor?” I asked Iesha.
“I don’t need a doctor.”
“Nah, for real. Dre’s girl dealt with that and—”
“I said I don’t need a doctor, Maverick! I’m handling it myself.”
“Fine.” Wasn’t no point in arguing. “How long you think you need?”
The phone line got real quiet. Next thing I knew, I got the dial tone.
I told Ma what happened.
“That poor child. Postnatal is rough,” she said. “Yolanda’s probably not getting her any help either. Jesus. We may need to prepare to have the baby for a while, Maverick. Might need to call Cousin Gary and discuss some options.”
Maaaan, that fool is the worst. He a lawyer and live in the suburbs with his white wife and their kids. Ask me when he come around the fam? Never. He think we ghetto and want his money. Cornball ass. Don’t nobody want his money.
I don’t want his help either. Iesha need a little break, that’s all. I pray to God I’m right, ’cause it’s only been two days, and this boy putting me through it. That first night was hell. He wanted to be held most of the time or else he’d cry, so I basically kept him in my arms. When I put him in his crib, he woke up every hour. That meant I had to wake up and feed him or change his diaper. I never seen so much poop in my life.
Saturday and Sunday, it was the same thing. Crying, pooping, peeing. Crying, pooping, peeing. I’m exhausted after one weekend.
Today finna be real interesting. It’s Monday, and Ma going back to work, meaning I gotta take care of my son by myself. At least this weekend Ma was here if I messed up. I told her that and she was like, “Being a parent usually means there’s nobody who can come fix things. That’s now your job.”
That’s scary as hell.
Ma run around the kitchen, checking the cabinets and refrigerator as she jot down a list. Dre gotta make some runs for Aunt ’Nita later and offered to take me to the grocery store. We need all kinds of stuff for my son. Of course, Ma thinking of fifty-leven other things she want.
“I’m adding cornmeal to the list, Maverick,” Ma says. “Make sure you get the big bag. Moe wants to fry some catfish this weekend. Oh, and get some of that creole seasoning. You know she’ll have a fit if there’s no creole seasoning.”
Ma’s best friend, Moe, come over and cook for us sometimes. She can throw down on some catfish. “Yes, ma’am,” I say, through a yawn. Li’l Man kept waking up last night. Surprised he asleep now.
“Now, if something comes up today, call me at work,” Ma says. “Also Mrs. Wyatt is next door, and your aunt ’Nita is only a phone call away. Your granny told me to tell you she’s a call away.” Ma shake her head. “That woman’s a fool for you.”
Granny live out in the country on the family land, thirty minutes away. She’d probably make that a fifteen-minute drive if I called.
I ain’t gon’ do that to her or nobody else. “I won’t need help.” I say what a man should. “I got this.”
Ma stare at me for a second. She come and kiss my forehead.
“You’ll be okay,” she murmurs.
Soon, she crank her car up in the driveway. The engine hum and hum till it fade away, and I’m all alone with my son.
I peek in on him real quick. I had to move my stereo and all my CDs to fit his crib in my room. Man, that was hard. I got the best CD collection in the neighborhood, bet that. Hundreds of joints. Had them stacked in a tower shelf in alphabetical order. Now they scattered over the dining room table.
All that for Li’l Man. He knocked out in his crib with his arms stretched above his head. His eyebrows wrinkled like they always be. I think he dream of ways to solve all the problems in the world.
I watch him for a minute. Tired as I am, I love him more than I can say. It’s kinda wild, since I only really known him for a few days. I turn on Andreanna’s old baby monitor and give his forehead a kiss like Ma gave me.
I throw myself across the living room couch. I think the hardest part of all of this is not knowing when it’s gon’ end. Either Iesha gon’ come get our son or he’ll chill the hell out. School start the week after next, and the thought of going there while dealing with him don’t seem possible.
I grab the cordless phone. I kinda wanna call Lisa since we didn’t talk all weekend, but that might mean telling her what’s going on. Instead, I dial King’s beeper. I need to holla at him ’bout this drug situation, plus I wanna make sure we cool. He gotta know the baby mine by now.
I page him. Knowing King, it’ll take a while before he get back to me. I stretch out on the couch and pull Ma’s throw blanket over me. Right as I start to fall asleep, the phone ring.
I can’t catch a damn break. I snatch it off the coffee table. “Hello?”
“Hello!” an automated voice says. “You have a collect call from—”
“Adonis,” his voice cut in.
I sit up. Pops never call in the morning. Only in the evenings when Ma home. Something gotta be wrong. I press 1 to accept the call. “Pops?”
“Hey, Mav Man!” Somehow his voice always light when he talk to me, like he on a business trip and not in prison. “What mess your momma cook today?”
I crack up. Pops swear he a better cook than Ma. He is, honestly. His biscuits so legendary, I dream of them mugs. “Nothing this morning. You a’ight? What you doing calling this early?”
“I’m fine. Got some calling time and decided to take advantage of it. Is Faye there?”
“Nah, she just left for work,” I say.
“Damn, I should’ve known. How she doing? She not working too much, is she?”
“She all right. You know she off on weekends now. Moe convinced her to take them off.”
“Moe.” The way Pops say her name kinda throw me off. They never met. Ma and Moe ain’t become friends till a year or two after he went away. “Guess I’m glad somebody convinced her to take time off,” he says. “Anyway, how you doing? What was you up to this weekend?”
Last time we talked I was waiting on the DNA test results. I told Pops the baby wasn’t mine, and he took my word like he always do. Now I gotta tell him he a grandfather.
“Umm…” It’s real hard to speak all of a sudden. “I was taking care of my son.”
The phone get extra quiet. The call ain’t dropped – there’s voices in the background.
“Damn,” Pops says. “Well, it is what it is. How you handling it?”
I rub my eyes. I ain’t sure if they burning ’cause they tired or I’m relieved Pops ain’t coming down on me. That ain’t really his style no way. Whenever Ma is pissed, I can always count on Pops to hear me out.
“I don’t know how I’m handling it,” I admit. “He cry all the time, barely sleep, always need a diaper change or a bottle. It’s a lot, Pops. I’m ready to crack after one weekend.”
“Oh yeah. I remember them days. He pissed in your face yet?”
“Maaan,” I groan as Pops laugh. “A couple of times.”
