The Light on Halsey Street, page 1
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Dedication
This book is dedicated to my loving husband, David Pierce, who came of age in Bed-Stuy Brooklyn and regaled me with so many stories of his youth that I had to write about this beautiful place and time.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Part 1 Journal Entry
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Part 2 Journal Entry
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Part 3 Journal Entry
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
A Note from the Author
Discussion Questions
About the Author
Acclaim for Vanessa Miller
Other Books by Vanessa Miller
Copyright
Part 1
And an highway shall be there, and a way, and it shall be called The way of holiness; the unclean shall not pass over it; but it shall be for those: the wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein.
Isaiah 35:8
Journal Entry
I wish I could go back and change everything about the summer of 1985. I honestly believe the root of my discontent was fertilized that summer and has been growing in me ever since. Oh, the things I could have done . . . the life I could have led, if I had only made better decisions.
Chapter 1
July 1985
With a twenty-dollar bill burning a hole in the pocket of Dana Jones’ cutoff jeans, which she had turned into shorts with fringe hanging below her butt, Dana slipped her bamboo earrings on. These things were her prized possession. Her name was engraved in the imitation gold across the midpoint of each earring.
She was about to leave the apartment to go downtown with her girls, Lisa Whitaker and Jasmine Parks. She’d been cooped up since graduating from Boys and Girls High School in Brooklyn, New York, last month.
But somewhere between the quiet in the house and “Pretty Young Thing” being blasted from a boom box outside, Dana tensed. Tensed as fear crept up her spine and lodged in her heart.
“Ma!”
It was always loud in her house, like noise would drown out the pain of stolen dreams. Her mother, Vida, would blast ’70s music on her old record player in their basement apartment when the owners of the brownstone, who lived in the main part of the house, were at work during the day—that is, before her mom pawned the record player a few weeks ago.
Dana was used to loud. The quiet of the past weeks caused her knees to shake like she’d been cornered by a stick-up kid after her hair-braiding money.
“Ma, I’m heading out. You want me to bring you something back?”
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Dana combed through her asymmetrical bob–style haircut and parted it so her bamboo earring could be seen. She rubbed in suntan lotion on her face and arms. Her olive complexion was too light to be in the sun without sunscreen. Looking in the mirror, Dana’s hazel eyes lit up, like beauty was everywhere and ugly didn’t exist in the world.
She put her comb on the sink and walked down the hall toward her mother’s bedroom. The last time Vida was nonresponsive, she’d had a seizure and had to be rushed to the hospital so they could pump the drugs from her mother’s system. Dana’s heart went thump-thump inside her chest as she knocked on her mother’s bedroom door, then tried the knob. It was unlocked.
Her mother was lying on her back with her arms stretched out on the bed. Dana hesitated. No chest movement. No snoring either. Her mom normally snored when sleeping on her back.
“Ma! Ma!” Thump-thump. Dana’s hand went to her heart as she forced herself forward. She touched her mother’s shoulder and shook it.
Vida growled and then put the pillow over her head. She turned her back to Dana. “Go away. I’m tired.”
Tired was better than dead. Tired was better than a seizure. Dana had watched her mother fight her demons since her boyfriend introduced her to cocaine. Dana’s chest heaved as she sucked in air and then blew it out. Tired was good. She backed out of her mother’s room and left her alone.
As Dana left her apartment, she found Lisa and Jasmine waiting for her next to the stoop. The heat hit her like hot grease popping at a fish fry. Sweat beaded on her forehead as they headed for the subway on Fulton Street between Lewis and Stuyvesant avenues. “Dang. It’s hot out here.”
“I’m dripping like a faucet,” Lisa, her best friend since first grade, said.
When they reached the station, they went down the stairs, deposited their tokens, and then hopped on the A Train.
“Man, I get so sick of standing up every time I get on this train,” Jasmine complained.
Dana and Jasmine became cool in tenth grade. Lisa couldn’t hang out as much back then. She was always at the library on Lewis and Macon, keeping them grades up so she could get a scholarship.
It was a Saturday afternoon, and the subway was packed. People going here and there, basically anywhere in the five boroughs, but today, Dana and her friends were headed to the Loew’s Metropolitan Theatre in downtown Brooklyn to see Back to the Future, starring Michael J. Fox.
“I’m glad to be on this train. I almost had to bail on y’all,” Lisa said. “My dad was tripping. I didn’t do the dishes, so he was holding up my allowance.”
“At least you get an allowance. I had to braid all three of Mrs. Lilly’s kids’ hair to get twenty dollars. And I couldn’t complain since my mom is late on the rent again.” Dana and her mom had been staying in the basement apartment of Mrs. Lilly and Michael James’ brownstone for six months. Dana seriously doubted they would make it a whole year before getting evicted.
“Well, we’re out today, and didn’t nobody stop us.” Jasmine held on tight to the handrail above as the train sped underground, heading toward their destination.
The train stopped at Jay Street. The moment the doors opened, a whoosh of hot, humid air blew in their faces. A mixture of urine and body odor assaulted Dana’s nostrils. Nothing like a New York subway station.
Dana held her breath until she and her girls reached the stairs leading out to Jay Street. They exited the train station, then went left, headed toward Loew’s movie theater at the corner of Fulton and Jay Street. It was 2:20 p.m. and the movie started at 2:30 p.m., so they had to hustle.
“Do any of these people ever stay home?” Jasmine pushed her way through the crowd.
Jasmine was always complaining about how crowded it was in the city. Dana was surprised she agreed to go to the movies since she hated being downtown. “We’ll be at the theater in a minute. Once you’re watching the movie, you’ll forget all about the crowd out here.”
“Or . . .” Jasmine lifted her arms, trying to get elbow room as they continued walking down the street. “The lookie-loos can get out of our town and go home.”
Lisa told her, “We will always have tourists, so get over it.”
They entered the movie theater and purchased tickets.
“I’m getting some popcorn.” Dana got in line for the snacks.
“I want some candy.” Lisa got in the line too. Once they had their snacks, they went to the theater where Back to the Future was being shown and sat down.
After several laughs and some skillful skateboarding, the movie ended and the three of them headed to The Wiz. Jasmine wanted to buy an album.
“I’m running out of money,” Dana complained. “I need to go to McCrory’s and get my toiletries, so I can’t get anything at The Wiz.”
“Girl, we’ll go to McCrory’s with you. Come with me to The Wiz. My mom asked me to pick up ‘Raspberry Beret’ since we were coming downtown,” Jasmine told her.
“Prince’s new record?” Lisa’s eyes popped as if Prince was standing in front of the electronics store waiting on her. “Let me at it.”
“Y’all acting like Prince is everything. What about New Edition with ‘Mr. Telephone Man’? Now, that’s a record I really want.” Dana stood outside the store. She looked up at the sign, which read “Nobody Beats the Wiz.” Those words were a jingle in all the store’s commercials.
Dana normally avoided The Wiz when she came downtown. Walking in the store and viewing all the televisions and stereo systems only reminded her their floor-model television was broken. It weighed two hundred pounds, so she and her mother couldn’t lift it to take it to a repair shop. And her mother had pawned the nineteen-inch television, so there was nothing to do at home but listen to the radio or read a book.
Her mother worked at the soul food restaurant a few blocks from their apartment, but they kept cutting her hours. So even if they could lift the floor-model TV, they didn’t have extra money to fix it, and if they did, her mother’s boyfriend would find a way to spend it on things they didn’t need.
The three friends opened the door and went inside. Televisions lined the shelves. Dana tried her best to ignore them and the stereo systems that blasted music throughout the store. They passed by the camera station, then took the stairs to check out the records on the second floor.
Dana glanced back, longing in her eyes as she watched a woman standing at the camera counter holding a Minolta X-700. She had begged her mother to buy the camera for Christmas during her sophomore year in high school. Dana wanted to take up scrapbooking and use the camera to make a photographic record of her final years in high school. She kept waiting, believing she’d have the camera under the Christmas tree, but she graduated from high school last month, with no scrapbook.
Lisa pointed at the New Edition poster hanging on the wall in the record section. “Look, Dana. There’re your boys.”
Dana turned toward the poster and smiled. “Love me some Bobby Brown. Yes, ‘Mr. Telephone Man.’”
“You don’t need to be loving nobody but me.”
Dana heard the deep, silky voice. She put her hand on the railing to steady herself as she turned to the left and saw Derrick Little. Derrick had a high-top fade and to-die-for dimples. His light brown eyes blended nicely with his chocolate skin tone. She and Derrick had been seeing each other for a couple of months. He lived in Marcy Projects with his grandmother.
Derrick had on a blue jean jacket with matching jeans and a pair of blue-and-red Pro-Keds. The sneakers were old and worn out. Derrick was always fresh, so it surprised her to see him in a pair of run-down shoes. He wiped some sweat from his forehead as he moved closer to her.
As her girls rushed over to the record section and began thumbing through the records, Dana finished her climb up the stairs and walked with Derrick to the R&B section.
“Why do you have on a jacket? It’s too hot and humid in this city to be wearing all those clothes.”
He tugged on either side of the jacket, then opened it so she could see the big pockets inside. “These are my work clothes.”
“What kind of job makes you wear blue jeans with a jacket?” She pointed to his forehead. “You’re sweating like crazy.”
He laughed at her as he stood in front of a stack of records, fingered his way through the stack, then pulled one out. “You want ‘Mr. Telephone Man,’ right?”
Yes, of course she did, but she didn’t have anything to play it on. “My mom sold our record player, so you don’t have to buy the record.”
“Got an extra record player at my place. I’ll bring it to you later.”
Her eyes lit up. “You’d really do that for me?”
“I got you, girl. Now, move a little to the left for me.”
Dana stepped to the left.
“A little more.”
Once she was in the spot he wanted her in, Derrick took the record and quickly shoved it in the inside pocket of his jacket.
Dana whispered, “What are you doing?” while glancing around.
“Don’t make it look obvious. I needed you to stand in front of me so the camera wouldn’t catch my movements. Play it cool, and we’ll be good.” Derrick then pulled out another record. He placed it in his inside pocket as well.
Lisa and Jasmine walked over to Dana. Jasmine held up the Prince record she came in the store to get. “I’m ready to check out.”
“Okay, I’m coming.” Before walking away from Derrick she said, “We’re headed to McCrory’s to get a few things, but I’ll be home later.”
“I can hang,” Derrick told her.
Jasmine paid for her record, and then the four of them went to McCrory’s.
As Dana paid for her items at the checkout, Derrick said, “Yo, Jasmine, I’m getting ready to go to Dr. Jays for a pair of sneakers. You want to help me out?”
Dana side-eyed Derrick. Was he trying to get with Jasmine right in front of her?
“Calm down,” Derrick told her. “Jasmine knows the deal.”
Dana didn’t know what deal Derrick was talking about. Derrick was new in town, so how could Jasmine know what deal he was talking about, if Dana didn’t know?
Jasmine nodded. “Yeah, okay, but it’s my turn next time.”
“Bet that.” Derrick and Jasmine fist-bumped.
They left McCrory’s, then crossed over Jay Street to get to the other side of Fulton and kept walking toward Dr. Jays. A Black man dressed in a long navy blue robe with his head wrapped in a turban stood on top of a crate, shouting at passersby. “The Black man is following Western culture . . . You are descendants of the tribe of Judah. Why do you choose to live below your place in God?”
Dana glanced at the man and immediately regretted it. They made eye contact. She turned her head as the man pointed in her direction.
“Sister!” he yelled. “Why do you degrade yourself by wearing cutoffs so short we can see the bottom of your behind?”
Jasmine put a hand over her mouth, laughing. “He clowned you.”
Derrick put an arm around Dana’s shoulder. “Don’t pay him any mind. I like what I see, and my opinion is what matters.”
Dana was mortified by the comment of the Black Hebrew Israelite. She knew better than to make eye contact, and now her friends would remember what he said about her shorts. But the way Derrick put an arm around her and pulled her closer made her feel protected. Made her want to get closer to him.
They stepped inside Dr. Jays. “La Di Da Di” by Slick Rick and Doug E. Fresh was playing on their stereo system. Lisa and Jasmine bounced to the beat of the music while Derrick searched the walls for the sneakers he wanted.
“What kind of sneakers are you getting?” Dana asked him.
“Some Pumas or Adidas.” Derrick walked through the store, picking up shoes, turning them around and then placing them back on the shelf.
Lisa picked up a pair of white Nikes with pink stripes. “I’m going to tell my mom to get me this pair. I’m way past due for some new sneakers.”
Jasmine smirked. “Girl, I already got a pair of those. You late.”
Dana had never had a pair of brand-new sneakers in her life. Her cousin normally passed her old shoes down to her. She was thankful her cousin wasn’t hard on her shoes. Although, she had to admit, she wished the flip-flops she wore today had a little more arch support, but beggars couldn’t be too choosy.
The floor salesman walked over to them. Animated. Trying to act like he was their best friend to get his commission check. “What are you ladies interested in today? We’ve got those red suede Pumas in.”
Derrick waved toward the salesman. “My man, can you get me this shoe in a size eleven?”
Dana’s jaw dropped as Derrick handed the salesman a red, black, and white Air Jordan. Those were the hottest sneakers on the market since that new guy Michael Jordan started balling for the Chicago Bulls. Dana wouldn’t dare ask her mother for a pair of Jordans. She knew she wouldn’t get them. And she doubted her cousin would pass those down to her.
The salesman glanced down at the worn-out shoes on Derrick’s feet. Dana figured he was wondering the same thing she was—why was Derrick wearing those old Pro-Keds if he could afford Air Jordans?
“Be right back,” the salesman said.
Derrick held up a hand. “Bring me a ten and a half also. I need to see which one fits best.”
Dana doubted the pockets inside Derrick’s jacket were wide enough for those high-top sneakers, so she sat down next to him and relaxed as he took off his shoes. When the salesman brought the shoes out, Derrick tried on the ten and a half first.
“How’s the fit?” the salesman asked as he watched Derrick struggle to get his foot in the shoe.
