Midnight

  Meeting Bangs taught me all of that, brought all these thoughts to mind. Umma says every woman who a man allows himself to interact with leaves her trace on him, good or bad. I am grateful to Bangs for these lessons, most of all to know the truth about myself as a man, and to be loyal and true to it.

  56

  NO GODS ON EARTH

  The warm vibe outside of the MoMA and the general feeling of the streets of Manhattan was completely different from the vibe of the Brooklyn hoods. When you are moving in the streets of Midtown Manhattan, there’s no bullshit. It’s strictly a money-earning thing. Everybody moving in every direction is focused heavily on making money. Every tall building is packed with people making money. Everybody moving in Midtown Manhattan is either making money or delivering messages and packages for people who are making money. Tourists pouring in and out of every groove are spending money, helping Manhattan make more money. Police and security agencies and armored trucks are daring anyone to fuck with the flow of the money.

  I met Akemi and we walked in the warm Manhattan air, just enjoying the night.

  Back in Brooklyn, the ambulances lit up the night. The police cars prowled, not to serve and protect the people, but to patrol and control them. My block was a crime scene, again.

  “First Conflict, then Heavenly,” some teenage girl standing outside watching said.

  “DeQuan killed her. Dere he go,” the girl pointed. I saw the back of DeQuan’s head through the rear window of the police cruiser where he was seated, and of course cuffed. It was one of those real bad moments, when your eyes see something, and your mind understands, but your heart won’t accept it as true.

  It could have easily been me trapped in the back of the police cruiser, about to be hauled off and dumped where they dump young black and Latino men who do anything . . . criminal.

  I had Akemi’s hand in mine. She was standing behind me pressed against my back. She didn’t want to know.

  I looked over to the building where my mother and sister were inside. I prayed. I was wondering if it was cool to go inside the building now, or if the police were still in there, roaming.

  “They gon’ bring out the rest of them too. You watch and see. I heard them when they busted through DeQuan’s door. That’s my floor, I know,” the girl reported.

  So I stood still, holding my wife.

  DeSean 16, DeRon 17, DeJean 20, and DeMon 22, they all came out in a line, each with a private police escort, hands cuffed tightly behind their backs. Cops came pouring out of the building like excited ants, carrying twenty-four-year-young DeQuan’s tagged-up guns, boxes of money, and seized bags of weed. It was enough artillery for him to take over a small country.

  A whole company of brothers who stuck together for at least the past seven years that I been here. Actually, it was much longer than that. They were here and organized before I arrived. Now, they are all found out and taken down because of a simple wrong choice of a female with an influential body and a mean-ass walk, I thought to myself.

  I took it as a sign. As a rule, I never ignore Allah’s signs, I catch them the first time around because who knows if Allah will warn you twice.

  Now the power equation in the building would shift, again. Now a fucked-up place, that was better off with DeQuan than without him, would become even more fucked up. Now a new nigga would jump in Conflict’s spot. A new whore would dress up and pretend to be Heaven, and a new nigga would find a way to get guns to the hood, where cannons stay cocked and loaded, with a thousand reasons to shoot.

  I had to get my people out.

  57

  OUT

  Upstairs Umma and Naja were as usual in a different world. Umma was fast at work on the orders I gave her this afternoon when I picked her up from work. Naja was in bed, sleeping.

  Akemi sat in the living room watching and fascinated with Umma’s fingers moving with precision and speed, with her knitting needles this time. Eventually, she pulled out her sketch pad and began drawing something with her own intensity.

  In my room, I packed my coins in the paper coin cases. When I finally finished, my personal savings from years of delivery tips and nine months at Cho’s was six thousand dollars and sixty cents.

  I don’t know why, but behind my closed bedroom door, I started packing up my most valuable personal belongings too. From the back of my closet, I pulled out the one quality suitcase I carried when I arrived in America.

  I got it packed and put it back. Then I was on the floor doing my repetitions.

  Tuesday I went to see Mr. Slerzberg personally after all my females were straight. On the way to his door, I yanked the FOR SALE sign out of his lawn. I rang the bell.

  “Good morning, Mr. Slerzberg. How are you?” I went through the formalities.

  “Can we talk business?” I asked him. He came out on the porch this time, instead of inviting me in. He was still dressed in his pajamas and robe.

  “I have your money. What do you say we sign contracts on Thursday, and you move out within the next week or so?”

  “You have the money?” he asked me as though he needed to hear it twice.

  “All of it,” I confirmed.

  “Two weeks is impossible. This house is filled with a lifetime’s worth of stuff,” he said passionately. I couldn’t tell him what I knew from what I saw inside of his home, that it was all junk. So I tried another approach.

  “Mr. Slerzberg, this isn’t the only house in the world. But it is the house my mother wants. So what can I do to help you get to Florida faster? That is where you want to be, right?” I was trying to entice him with his own dreams and wishes.

  “You know it’s where I want to be but I was just telling Beth that maybe we should wait because it’s warm here in New York right now. It feels nice. It’s ninety degrees in Palm Coast, Florida, phew,” he said, pulling his robe like he needed air. “And it’s ninety-five in Miami!”

  “But they have casinos and air-conditioning down there. Listen, I know you love all of the stuff you have packed up in your house. I can get some nice professional guys from a respectable licensed and bonded company to come right away and move all of your stuff wherever you want them to take it.” I looked him in his eyes.

  “Sounds expensive,” he said, catching on. I knew what he required.

  “I’ll pay it. I’ll set it up and pay it. You move out in two weeks. How’s that sound?” I asked him through a strained smile.

  “Any time you’re paying it sounds good to me,” he said, laughing. “But I choose the moving company and you pay them,” he said.

  We shook on it. He agreed to get himself prepared and show up to my lawyer’s office this Thursday at 6:00 P.M.

  58

  THE GIFTS

  She got mad when she pulled the Bergdorf Goodman shopping bag from out of the back of the closet in our bedroom. True, the bag was a little bit wrinkled, but the gift that she had given to me was still in there in perfect condition. It was a large box with a thick silver ribbon wrapped around all four sides, topped off with a big silver bow.

  She grabbed the bag by mistake when she was reaching for something else. When she realized what it was, she got disappointed and dropped it on the bedroom floor and began softly telling me off in Japanese for not having opened her gift to me.

  I laughed at her. It was my first reaction. It was hard for me to get angry at my pretty wife who didn’t even know how to scream the right way. She was cute pushing her words out forcefully. Her voice was barely above her usual seductive whispers. It was humorous to me having to guess at what she was saying. Besides, this was our first married argument.

  Since she was just going on in Japanese, I started answering her back in English.

  “Akemi, I should have opened it, but at the time that you gave it to me, I had too much on my mind. I really wasn’t focused on the gift,” I said to her calmly. I was sitting on the bed while she was standing up, one hand on her little waist.

  She started saying something else emotio
nal. When she finally stopped talking, she poked her lips out and pouted at me. I guess she was frustrated. No Saachi and no cousin here to interpret, no Sensei or anyone familiar, just me and her.

  “Bring it to me. I’ll open it right now,” I told her. But she just stared at me angrily, not knowing what I meant. I just kept smiling at her. I couldn’t help it. That’s just how she made me feel. Besides, I felt I had the upper hand even though I was wrong for not opening her gift. I knew that my smile alone would melt her slowly. And by now, I knew how to make her feel good deep inside, to give her so much pleasure she would be helpless, to win her over completely. I guess I was growing up more each day, feeling myself and becoming more confident in my power. I think becoming intimate placed another level of strength into my manhood.

  “Bring it to me,” I gestured this time. She turned her back like she wasn’t willing to speak to me. I lay down on my bed and waited. Not even thirty seconds passed before she started to peek back at me to see what I was doing and why I was not reacting to her. When I caught her eye, I said it again and gestured once more, “Bring it to me.” I sat up again.

  She bent over and picked the gift up. She held it and just stared at me. “C’mon,” I called her over. She walked towards me reluctantly. But she was still coming.

  When she reached me, I grabbed her by her waist and tossed her down on the bed. She dropped the present on the floor. I pulled her arms up over her head and held them there. She started cursing me again, which got me crazy heated. I tried to kiss her and she turned her face away and used her knee to kick me. With one leg, easily, I pinned both of her legs down. She tried to wiggle herself loose. I just looked at her squirming. “I love you, Akemi. I love you too much.” I began sucking her neck. When I took one glance at her, I saw her lips had parted. I knew I was on my way.

  I put my hand on her skirt and grabbed at her. She exhaled. I slid my hand under her skirt and into her panties. I used my middle finger, slid it inside of her, and stroked her clitoris gently. She tried to resist me with her words, with whatever she was saying, but her body was already on my side. Her talk turned to moans. They started off softly and grew louder and louder. I bit her nipple and let her express herself. Her moaning was so erotic to me anyway.

  When I pulled my hand away, her legs were just beginning to tremble. She pulled my hand and tried to place my finger back where I had it. I turned her around and yanked down her blouse. She purposely rolled herself off of the mattress and onto the floor. She lay there on her back speaking to me in Japanese now so sweetly as I took off my jeans and my shorts.

  When I came down on the floor, she began playing at escape. She crawled away from me. I grabbed her by her foot and pulled her leg back. She was face down. I mounted her and entered her pussy from behind. I could feel the pulse inside of her, throbbing and pulling and clutching. The new position got her crazy. She screamed out her pleasure. With both of my hands gripped beneath her body and holding her warm breasts, I humped slow, steady, yet forcefully, until I couldn’t hold back any longer. I busted inside of her it seemed like endlessly. When my body eased up she turned herself around. Immediately she squeezed her legs together tightly to stop herself from shaking and then started kissing me all over. There was no more anger. I had conquered her, and in the process I conquered myself.

  We played in the shower feeling free. No one was at home. We marked up each other’s bodies, which was becoming a habit, because we still couldn’t control our passion.

  In the living room, all fresh wearing only her panties, she lay on a big pillow and sunk inside like a clam in its shell. Her henna designs made her look continuously royal, exotic, and erotic. She was just lying there staring at me with such love, but more than that. She had awe in her eyes. Or was it amazement?

  I was wearing my boxers, about to go to my room and grab my T-shirt. But her stare held me there. “What’s up?” I asked her. She broke out in a big-ass smile. I went and sat beside her. She threw her leg into my lap and pulled herself up. She turned in towards me, then straddled me. She just began hugging me, her head lying on my shoulder. We just sat silently like that, no sex, just hugging and rocking. I thought my heart would burst.

  In my room her soft hand rubbed a light coat of oil onto my skin: my neck and shoulders, then arms and chest and stomach. She took much longer than I would have taken getting myself ready to get dressed. But it felt a million times better letting her do it. As she finally got down to my calves and ankles, she began rubbing oil onto my feet. Suddenly she just looked up at me from below and smiled.

  She lay in my lap so I could do her next. As I touched different parts of her body with the oil, I was watching her subtle reactions, her goose bumps and excited extended nipples, how her toes curled when I oiled the insides of her thighs.

  I dropped some tiny droplets of fragrance onto her neck from a small crystal bottle. I pressed my nose to it to see how it mixed with the natural scent of her skin. I got high and found my tongue inside her mouth. We were sliding and climbing and climaxing all over again.

  Later, after we were finally fresh and dressed, she came and sat in my lap, holding her gift. I finally unwrapped the ribbon and opened the box and inside of it was another box wrapped in a maroon ribbon with a maroon bow. I just looked at her and she cracked up laughing, so pleased with herself. I unwrapped the maroon ribbon and opened the box and there was another box with a green ribbon and bow. She laughed again. The next box with the blue ribbon and bow had something inside. I opened it and peeled back the tissue paper. It was baby clothing, a tiny little yellow dress and laced socks, all-in-one pajamas and booties and baby shoes, a baby boy’s jumper and a matching hat. I held the dress up looking at it curiously. She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. I looked up at her. She smiled, and said softly, touching herself, “Babies please.”

  I just looked at her recalling what was happening between us when she first gave me this gift. It was the day after the Coney Island trip, the fight and the black eye. She must have bought these expensive baby clothes, with the price tags still attached, sometime after we had our talk about marriage in the ice cream store. I thought about how she seemed to never have doubted her love for me. She seemed to never have doubted that she wanted to live her life with me, have children for me. The more I thought about it, the more emotional I felt. The feeling began to overpower me.

  She reached back in the box again and pulled out a slim box wrapped in a gold ribbon with a miniature gold bow. She handed it to me. I hoped it was not jewelry or anything expensive. I felt the meaning behind the baby clothes, and her intention and loyalty were more than enough and greater than anything else.

  But she insisted and her eyes were so eager. I unwrapped and opened the slim box and discovered two season passes to the New York Knicks basketball games at Madison Square Garden for the upcoming season.

  59

  THE CLOSING

  Naja was extra sleepy on Thursday, the morning of our house closing. Akemi and I picked she and Umma up late last night from Temirah Auntie’s home. Their women’s planning meeting ran overtime. Now we had no choice but to rush along because this was sure to be a long, long day for each of us.

  After prayer and breakfast, we four dashed out. Naja was in Ms. Marcy’s hands. We escorted Umma to work. Then I took Akemi to her uncle’s house where she wanted to go to continue her preparation for her show, which was coming up in only two days. I promised to pick her up in Manhattan at 9:00 P.M. She was going to miss the closing but I was cool with that. It really was Umma’s day more than anyone else’s, although we would all live in and work to renovate and enjoy the new house, inshallah.

  Besides, I had never showed or tried to tell Akemi about our new house. I wanted to be sure that Mr. Slerzberg actually showed up and signed the documents. I was already concerned about him possibly disappointing Umma.

  Sensei was settled and calm when I arrived for weapons training.

  “You seem tired,” he said to me after
we exchanged greetings. I guessed he was right. When I thought about it for a moment, it was completely different having a wife. I had gained so many new feelings and experiences, but was missing out on a lot of the time I usually spent alone. Instead of reading and thinking or sleeping, I found myself thinking only of the women in my life, their feelings, safety, and security.

  “But you also seem peaceful and happy. What an amazing story,” Sensei said as though he was considering the thought right that moment. “What story?” I asked. “Your young life,” he responded. “You must be careful,” he warned. “Enjoy life, but don’t let down your guard. You are always a target when you have so much more than other men have. Continue training, conditioning, and keep your mind very alert.”

  “That’s what I am here for, Senseisan. What do you have for me today?”

  “There is no rush,” he said oddly. “Let’s take a walk outside.” He was already headed to the door before me. I followed him, thinking how in seven years, I had never stepped outside of the dojo with Sensei. I wondered what was up. He placed the CLOSED sign in the window and closed and locked up the dojo.

  Outside the sun was brilliant. The Brooklyn streets were crowded as usual, people going everywhere and nowhere at a fast pace. As we walked the block, it felt good to have Sensei at my side.

  “You have to teach me to walk like that,” he said, smiling his rare smile.

  “Like what?” I asked. But he didn’t answer.