Imani All Mine Page 10

  Miss Odetta say, Girl, I ain’t been drinking. She picked up her can and headed for her favorite place on the couch. She light herself a cigarette, popped open a beer and put her damn feet right up on that table. Imani had pulled herself up to the table and was standing froze right next to the ashtray with smoke all up in her face. Mrs. Poole say secondhand smoke bad for a baby lungs. She showed us this cartoon film strip about this mama and daddy smoking all day around they baby. Then it showed the same day from how it seem to the baby. Every time the parents smoked, it showed the baby puffing on its own little cigarette. But I could tell my baby was standing there because she was having a bowel movement. She had this silly look on her face like she was half-embarrassed. She ain’t ready to be potty-trained, though. I picked Imani up and got her away from that smoke and took her upstairs.

  By the time I got Imani all cleaned up, she was falling to sleep. I put her down on the bed and went real quiet to the top of the stairs. I know Miss Odetta. She was going to have something to say about Mitch, telling Mama all about how she know him from somewhere. Saying June Bug sold him reefer and he got a thing for black women. Saying June Bug sold him crack and he had a thing for black men.

  But she wasn’t talking about him. She was telling Mama about some white man she had dated.

  Mama say, Get out of here, Odetta. You ain’t even went out with nobody from no damn Rolling Stones.

  Miss Odetta say, Yes, I did. I ain’t never wanted to brag on it. To be dropping names or nothing. It was when they played out at Rich Stadium a few years ago. They was staying at the hotel, and I did too go out with one of them. I ain’t saying which one it was, because he really wasn’t nothing but a freak. You know how them white boys be. Wanting to do unnatural things. Stick they dick up your ass. I had to tell him, Damn, you got the right key, baby, but you working on the wrong keyhole.

  Mama say, Mitch ain’t nothing like that. See now, that’s why I ain’t even bother bringing Mitch around here until now. I know ya’ll wasn’t going to like him.

  Miss Odetta say, I don’t know who all of this ya’ll is. But if you like him, I love him.

  Well, you the only one loving him then, Mama say. Because you ain’t going to hear me say I love him. Fuck being in love. I done been in love. And where in the hell did love get me? Mitch got money, and he spend it on me. Shit, I’m taking money from any man who’s fool enough to give it to me. Spend it on me.

  Miss Odetta say, Ain’t nothing wrong with love. I’m in love.

  Mama say, With some other woman husband? That’s just some rent-to-own shit. You renting him and his wife own him. I ain’t doing that again.

  Miss Odetta ain’t say nothing for a while. I heard her pop open another can of beer. Then she say, It’s just as well you ain’t in love with him. You know white men be after just one thing.

  Mama ask, Is that so? What they be after, Odetta?

  Miss Odetta say, You know the way white men is, espedaily with real real black women. They don’t be thinking about love nohow. They just want to hit it and quit it. When this white man done had enough, you won’t even know where he is.

  Mama laughed. She say, Girl, Mitch love me. He ain’t going nowhere.

  Miss Odetta say, You mark my words. He ain’t going to stay.

  I was smoking mad, sitting on them steps with Miss Odetta talking like she ain’t dark herself. She just as black as me and Mama. I could see why some white man would do it with her trifling, drinking, smoking self and keep on like a rolling stone. Much as I’d already took to hating Mitch, I wanted Miss Odetta to be wrong. I don’t know why I’d been even thinking like I had. Wanting to hang on to every nasty word she say about him. Me and my crazy self should’ve known she’d try to wipe her nasty words on Mama too. To mark them on her.

  If Mama say Mitch love her, he do. It ain’t about sex and it ain’t about her being black. He love her. Plain and simple because he a man and she a woman. Why can’t a white man love a black woman?

  I ain’t stupid. I wasn’t having no fantasy about Mitch taking the place of my daddy. Mama has always told me that my daddy dead, but Aunt Mavis told me when I was little that as far as she knew, he wasn’t. Him and Mama never married and broke up when I was a baby. People break up. Love fail. It fade.

  I ain’t know nothing about that when I was a little girl, so I made up a story about my daddy. About him loving me. About him being tall and dark like trees. Big like trees, and loving me so much that when he close his eyes, he still can see me. Even though he never do see me for real and I don’t know why. He loved Mama, so why can’t Mitch?

  I made up my mind right then to watch Mitch the next time he come over. Not to see if he got L.O.V.E. wrote on his hands, but if he got it on his face. If he have it in his mouth when he speak words to Mama. Clean and fresh.

  Mitch come over the next Friday night to pick Mama up for a date. Imani was sleep and Mama was still getting ready. I let him in and told him I’d get him a drink, a beer if he want one. I wondered if he would take one behind Mama back.

  He say he ain’t want nothing to drink, and ask, Where’s your little angel, darling?

  You mean my baby? She sleep, and she ain’t nobody’s angel, I say.

  Mitch say, Sure she is. All babies are angels in disguise.

  I ask, So is all grown folks devils in disguise?

  Mitch laughed. Some of them are, he say. The trouble is trying to figure out which ones.

  Mitch headed for the couch and took a seat right on the edge. I sat off to the side on the floor. Watching. And not wanting him to know I was watching. So I pretended like I was watching one of them new channels we got on cable that was turned on just that morning. But I’m looking at Mitch out the corner of my eye. Holding him there. Distant. I couldn’t really see him too good that way. I was close enough to get his smell, though. I don’t know if it was cologne or if it was soap. But he smelled to me like summer. The way the air find its way to you before rain.

  I always liked that smell from when I was little. When I would be playing out front and Mama would make me come sit on the porch before it start pouring like I was made of sugar and would melt in the rain. I always act like I ain’t want to go, but whenever that smell before rain would come floating on the air, I listened for Mama to call me to her. Mama would be sitting in a lawn chair and I’d sit on the porch right by her and rest my head in her lap. Every time, she would do the same thing. Run her hand over my sweaty head while the rain fell quiet on the porch roof. She would say the same thing, too. Girl, you been out running all day, now you playing the baby. I ain’t do nothing but smile, and never move. Mama never made me move.

  Just the week before I went to the skating rink, before I met him, we’d had some hot days. Some real little girls was jumping rope on the sidewalk and singing like me and Eboni and Coco nem used to, singing about having they love for some boy spelled out in capital letters.

  Eenie Meanie Gyp-saleni,

  Oh, Ah Um-baleni, Achi Caci Liberace

  I love you.

  Capital L.O.V.E.

  Love you

  Capital L.O.V.E.

  Love you.

  Like they know what they was talking about. I’d been playing kickball and dodging cars in the street with the older kids until the smell of rain come up. Mama called me and I ran to her, while them big kids kept on playing and them little girls kept on singing. I ran to Mama so she could do the same old things. Rub my head. Say I be playing the baby. And she did them things that day. For the last time.

  When Mama come downstairs for her date, I took the chance to look at Mitch direct. I stared right in his face as Mama come into the living room, wearing not nam bra and a clinging black sweater dress that was scooped out in the front. It ain’t show her titties or nothing like that, though. It was real simple. Only a pretty arc of her chest showed. Smooth. Dark and shiny like the skin of chestnuts. Mitch was smiling, his face all lit up. I wished Miss Odetta could’ve been there right then so she could see
what I did. What Mama say is true. Mitch love her. There was a light in Mama face, too. She smiled at Mitch. Not like she love him. But like she know she at the center of his life. Like she the sun and he the moon circling around her, doing nothing but reflecting the light that come from her.

  I laid out on the couch after Mama and Mitch left, clicking through the channels over and over. Ninety-nine channels, and there wasn’t really nothing on I wanted to see. Maybe because I was thinking about Mitch. I felt a little sorry for him, him trailing after Mama, being in love all by hisself.

  Like I’m in love with Peanut by myself because I still don’t be seeing him. He may as well be living on the other side of the world instead of two streets over. Sometimes, instead of coming right straight home from school, I go downtown because I know Peanut have to transfer to the train there. Whole bunches of kids be going after school to the mall down there, anyway. You can ride for free on your bus pass until six.

  I don’t always go in the mall, unless I want a slice of pizza. The people work in the stores and security guards nem act like they don’t want you in there. They be looking at you like you stole something or fenna steal something. And you don’t know if they looking at you like that because you a teenager or because you black, or because you black and a teenager. You can feel it, though. I can feel it. What they think, how they feel. They don’t open they mouths and say nothing, but you can still hear they words. Like the music they play in the stores. Soft. You can see them watching with they closed lips, saying, Get out. Get out. Get out.

  I can’t say how much stealing be going on. There do be fights. Almost every time I go in there, seem like some kids be fighting. Not just boys, neither. Girls be having them scratching, kicking, pulling-the-extensions-out-your-head fights. Maybe that’s what scare the people who work there. What make they closed lips talk. Usually, I just go across the street to the Woolworth. I take Imani down the basement to see the animals. Then we go back upstairs. I get some doughnuts and go sit in the back of the cafeteria so I see the door. Lots of buses let kids out on the street back there. I be looking for Peanut to come through the door. Since I ain’t never seen him, I called his house. I only let the phone ring once, chickened out, and hung up, because I ain’t know what I was going to say if he answered.

  They don’t really bother reporting on the J.V. teams on the sports on TV, so I be looking for Peanut name in the sports section of the paper. Looking to see if he done made a star out of hisself. I ain’t never seen his name. When South Park come and played our school, I ain’t go to the game. I wanted to. All I could think was that mixed girl would be there. I ain’t never seen her. But I know she probably cute and yellow with good hair and she would be there cheering for Peanut looking like that. While I would be there looking like me. I can’t say I blame Peanut for wanting her. It ain’t like I hate her or nothing, or even hate him. Like some fool with no light of my own in my face, I love him. I ain’t some little girl who don’t know what I’m talking about. I love him. With capital letters. That’s why I got up and left the house that night. I picked up the phone to dial Eboni, but ended up dialing Peanut instead. I hung up real quick before his phone could ring and thought I needed to get some fresh air in my brain to wash Peanut out my mind.

  I went upstairs. Without waking Imani, I stuffed her into her snowsuit, took a ten-dollar food stamp from Mama dresser drawer, and headed up to the Arabian store. Wasn’t much snow on the ground, so I could use the stroller. I tied a baby blanket to the legs and handles to keep the wind out Imani face. Mrs. Poole say to do that. To keep the blanket loose so your baby can still breathe. It was already going on eleven, so I wasn’t going to stay out long. Peanut mama and daddy get home from work a little after then, and I wasn’t going to call they house when they home.

  By the time I pushed Imani to the corner, I could see two dealers still out. I don’t really be out that late, so I guess I don’t know when they go in. Some of them be out when me and Imani be heading to school, and I be thinking, Who in the world be buying crack at seven in the morning?Tiat night I was thinking, Who in the world be buying crack at eleven at night? It was real cold out, too. There wasn’t no clouds to keep in the heat. Stars was showing off in the blackness while the dealers was whistling out to each other like birds from naked winter trees. One right at the corner and another up the street. They was hopping from foot to foot like they should have flew south a long time ago. They pointed at they chest as cars drove by and called to each other in codes.

  When I got to the store, another dealer was standing right outside. I only started seeing him around recent. He used to go to Lincoln, but I guess he done quit. He one of the dealers that’s out when I be waiting on the bus mornings. I heard somebody call him Brooklyn. I don’t know if it’s his real name or just the name he use when he deal. When he seen me lifting the stroller to get it up the steps to the store, he helped me lift it. I thanked Brooklyn and he come in right behind me. Omar was behind the counter. Brooklyn say to him, What up, dog? Omar say, Prices. But that’s just a joke.

  I grabbed one of them little plastic shopping baskets and pushed Imani to the back of the store. I got a big bag of pork rinds, a pack of cookies, and a quart of chocolate milk. I was thinking I’d better get some hot sauce for the rinds, because there was no hot sauce pack in with them and I ain’t think we had none at home, when Brooklyn come right up the aisle toward me.

  He ask, What’s your name?

  At first I ain’t say nothing. Then I told him.

  He say, I’m Brooklyn. You sure is looking fine tonight, Tasha. With your chocolate self.

  Thank you, I say. Even though I ain’t believe him, even though I know it was a line, I was wishing I had something different in my basket. Like bottled water and fruit.

  Don’t you go to Lincoln? he ask.

  I told him I do.

  He say, I quit. I ain’t got time to be hanging around to get a diploma. Who them teachers think they fooling? What can you do with that piece of paper that you can’t do without it?

  I say, Go to college.

  Brooklyn rubbed his chin like he was thinking. He say, So you one of them kind of girls?

  I say, I ain’t no kind of girl.

  He say, Yes, you is, Tasha. Tell me, what do a brother got to do to hook up with you? He smiled. I wished he ain’t smile. Because he looked so good. His skin was dark and smooth and he had these deep dimples.

  Imani woke up just then, stretching under the blanket and kicking and whining. I untied the blanket from the handles so she could see, and she got quiet. I told Brooklyn, I got to be getting my baby home. She probably want to eat. He ain’t move. There wasn’t a way to step around him, so I backed up and went up the far aisle. In the front, Omar was sitting on a stool watching TV. He got up and start ringing my food. Brooklyn come to the counter.

  Omar, I’ll get it, he say.

  I was going to tell him I had my own money, but then I thought, If he fool enough to spend it, I’ll let him. He took out the biggest roll of money I ever seen, about as big around as a Spaulding. Peeling off a fifty, he let it float onto the counter.

  Omar whined, Come on, come on, I told you before. Nothing bigger than a twenty.

  Brooklyn give him a twenty-dollar bill and then took a piece of paper out his pocket and wrote on it. This here my number, he say, holding it out to me. You can call me if you want to hook up. It’s my beeper, he say.

  I stuck the paper in my pocket. Omar went to hand him back the change.

  Brooklyn say, Give it to her. You a smart girl, use it for your college fund, Tasha.

  I thanked him and put it inside the bag with the food, wishing Peanut would’ve walked in right then. Wishing he could see Brooklyn spending money on me. Me.

  While I was tying the blanket back on the stroller handles, Brooklyn bounced a quarter onto the counter. He say, Give me a loosie. Omar handed him a cigarette out of a open pack.

  Brooklyn ask, Where my change at? Where my nickel?
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  Omar say, Loosies are a quarter now.

  Brooklyn say, I thought you joking about them prices, Omar. I should report you for selling them. It’s against the law, you know, Brooklyn say.

  Omar say, You going to lecture me about the law? Buy a whole pack.

  Brooklyn say, I’m trying to quit, man. He started patting his pockets. Looking for a lighter, I guess. I seen him reach deep into his front jeans pockets. And just for a second, I seen it. A gun. A big gun. Sticking in the elastic of his boxers next to his beeper. I don’t think Omar seen it. If he did, he ain’t act like it.

  I tried not to act like it neither. My mouth had fallen open, and I closed it. Tight. Pressed my lips together. Silent. There wasn’t going to be no words sitting in my mouth to be stole. Nothing Brooklyn could read on my face. No words he could hear just by looking at me. No story to be told in the wilderness by nothing or nobody.

  I turned my eyes away. Turned them right where they should’ve been all along. To my baby. Except I ain’t see her under the blanket. She had started crying, trying to kick it off. I know she wanted to see. Imani nosey. She like to see. But she might have been thinking something else.

  Mrs. Poole say a baby have such a little mind. If you play peek-a-boo with them and they cover they eyes, they think the world go away. I don’t know how she know a baby think like that. How anybody know. Maybe Imani was thinking the world on the other side of her blanket had went away and me with it, so I stuck both my hands under the blanket for her to hold. For her to know the world was still real. To let her know I was still there.

  I wanted to get out the store, but I ain’t want to leave before Brooklyn. So I stayed next to Imani, with my back to him. Pretending I was still getting her ready to go out.

  Omar say, Hey, hey, come on now, no smoking.

  Brooklyn say, Damn, man. You just sold me this cigarette, Omar, but you won’t let a brother smoke it.