Flyy Girl

  Patti clicked on the light. “Get up, girl, ’cause you’re getting out of this house!”

  Tracy buried her face in the pillow. “Please, mom, I don’t feel so good.”

  “Why, are you pregnant?”

  “No, but I seen something that’s making me sick.”

  Patti was still fuming, but she calmed down after seeing how distressed her daughter was. “You should have stayed in this damnhouse,” she huffed, as she walked over and sat on Tracy’s bed, tending to her. “So what happened?”

  Tracy sat up and said, “Mercedes is messed up on drugs.”

  Patti shook her head and pondered. “Well, how do you know this?”

  Tears rushed down Tracy’s face. “I saw her. And she spoke to me.”

  “What did she say to you?”

  “She said that it was her life and that she didn’t care what I thought about it.”

  Patti muttered, “Mmm, mmm, mmm. What is this world coming to? Where were you at when you saw her?”

  “I saw her on the street, and I went to go talk to her.”

  Patti frowned, knowing better. “You think I’m really stupid, don’t you? I know that damn boy you been sneaking around with is probably mixed in with them damn drugs. And you probably seen her in one of those crack houses. Didn’t you, Tracy?”

  Tracy sat silently.

  “See, girl, you think that your father and I don’t know anything, and that you somehow got all of the answers. But I’ve been there myself, Tracy, and times don’t change, they just look different.

  “When I was growing up, it was the gang-war era, where you didn’t date a guy unless he had a jacket. People were using heroin back then.”

  Patti got up to leave and said, “I hope that you learned something from this, because I don’t know what else to say to you. This is your battle. I don’t have the time nor the energy to be out here chasing you around in these streets. I have my own damn life to live, Tracy.”

  Patti walked to the door and added,” Oh, by the way. I paged your father. He’s going to be here any minute after work. I told him that I was ready to throw your ass out.”

  Tracy looked up at her mother from the pillow and remembered that her clothes were stuffed inside of trash bags and setting at the door.

  “Do you think I should let you stay in this house, Tracy?” her mother asked. Patti figured that her hard-headed daughter may have learned a big enough lesson to stay.

  “I’m sorry, mom,” Tracy pleaded.

  “Answer the damn question, girl,” Patti snapped at her.

  “Yes,” Tracy answered meekly.

  “Why?”

  Tracy thought of a good answer and came up empty. “I don’t have no place else to go,” she mumbled.

  “You act like you got somewhere else to go. Do you wanna move in with that boy you’ve been running around with?” Patti had a lot of assumptions about her daughter’s whereabouts. All she needed was the proof.

  “No,” Tracy answered.

  Patti nodded, pensively, deciding that she would let her stay. She ain’t ready for them damn streets anyway, she told herself. She’s been spoiled all of her life. Philadelphia would eat her alive, just like it did Mercedes. “You know that you’re back on punishment, right?” Patti was telling her more than asking her.

  Tracy nodded, conceding to it.

  “And I want them earrings, and the chains,” her mother added.

  “Hunh?” Tracy uttered, confused.

  “You heard me. Take them off and give them here.” Patti walked back over to the bed and reached out her hand.

  Tracy was still reluctant. “What are you gonna do with it?”

  “Tracy, give me the damn jewelry! I’m gonna put it up, until I feel like giving it back to you.”

  Tracy took off her jewelry and handed it over.

  Patti held the relatively weightless gold in the cup of her hands. “Mmm,” she grunted. “Cheap. If you tried to pawn this stuff downtown, they’d barely give you fifty dollars for it.” She then put the seized items away in her room and went back downstairs to wait for Dave.

  Dave unlocked the front door with his key as soon as Patti had gotten comfortable on the couch. It was close to eleven o’clock.

  “So what’s this about?” he asked her, stumbling over the trash bags of clothing, just as Tracy had done earlier.

  Hearing the front door creak open and close, Tracy snuck into the hallway bathroom, which was right by the stairway, to eavesdrop on her parent’s conversation.

  “I’m kicking Tracy out,” Patti lied to him. She was ready for an argument. She wanted one. I’m ready to kick his ass in here, too, she thought to herself. She had done a lot of maturing in the nine years that they had been apart.

  “For what?” Dave asked her.

  “Because she’s grown.”

  He walked over and joined his wife on the couch. “Let me speak to her.”

  “She’s asleep.”

  “Well, let’s go wake her up.”

  “For what?” Patti snapped at him.

  “So I can see what’s going on here.”

  Patti looked at him crossly. “I just fucking told you what’s going on here. Tracy thinks that she’s grown, so she’s moving out.”

  Tracy stood inside of the bathroom door enjoying it, especially since she knew that she wasn’t going anywhere. “Get him, mom,” she whispered to herself. Dave had not been a good daddy.

  “Patti, the girl is barely fifteen years old,” he argued.

  “And?”

  “She’s nowhere near grown.”

  “Well, since she’s not grown, then maybe she needs a damn father around here!”

  Dave fell silent. He wanted to come back home, he just didn’t know how. He had gotten used to his freedom, and it had become destructively addictive. “So what are you saying, Patti?” he asked her, wanting her to cut to the chase. They had not discussed the topic in a while.

  Patti took a deep breath. She had been thinking about this moment practically for all of the nine years of their unofficial separation. “Either you’re going to stay here, or you’re not. You can’t have it both ways. Not anymore. So either we’re gonna get a divorce, so you can marry this bitch, or whoever the hell you’ve been staying with, so I can move on with my life, or . . .”

  She stopped herself, not wanting to believe that she actually still wanted him back. We’re not divorced yet, she told herself.

  Tracy had stopped breathing after hearing the word “divorce.” “Oh my God!” she mumbled. “I can’t believe she said that.” She was listening for her father’s response before she could continue breathing.

  “I’ve never been staying with any woman. You know where I stay,” Dave commented to his wife, avoiding her ultimatum.

  “Well, I’ve never seen the place,” Patti responded to him. “But that’s beside the point, Dave. The point is: why are you there in the first place?”

  Dave grimaced. “Look, Patti, what do you want me to do? I mean, we can’t even have a conversation anymore.”

  “Is that my fault? Oh, go ahead, blame everything on me.”

  Dave was speechless. Patti was finally backing him up against a wall. “How do you think we can do this, Patti?” he asked her.

  Patti was confused. “What the hell, Dave? Is there some kind of a process with you moving back in?” She had been saving up to move into her own place if he failed to agree. Life goes on, she told herself. And she was no longer willing to remain captive in his house.

  Dave sighed. “It’s not as easy as you think it is,” he told her. He realized that Patti had matured, but with that maturity, she was also more demanding.

  “You don’t have much longer to think about it, Dave. You told me, or us, rather, that you were moving back in years ago, after I had had Jason. What happened to that?”

  Dave wanted to run away again to think it over. He knew he did not want a divorce. The only right thing to do was to start over. He had been dating on
and off like Patti had, yet no woman could take her place either. She was the mother of his kids, still his wife and still living inside of his house.

  “All right, I’ll think it over,” he told her.

  Patti got up and walked over to the steps, unsatisfied with his answer. “You can let yourself out. And by the way, I decided to let Tracy stay before you came.”

  “Well, you still haven’t told me what she’s done.”

  “You ask her.”

  Tracy eased into her room before her mother reached the top of the steps.

  Dave sat for a while and thought things over. “Well, I guess this is it,” he said to himself. He was as nervous about moving back in as he had been when he first told Patti “I do.” But he had had his way long enough. The stability of his family depended on his presence.

  That next day of school was like a funeral for Tracy. She did not want to be in school. There were too many things on her mind. She wore no glamorous outfits on her back that day. No earrings, and gold chains.

  “Hey Tracy, you hear about Mark?” Jantel asked glumly.

  “What Mark?” Tracy responded, absent-minded.

  “You know, the one that hangs out with Victor and them.”

  “Oh, Mark Bates. Yeah, what about him?”

  “He dead,” Jantel told her.

  Tracy stopped what she was doing at her locker. “How? What happened to him?”

  “Some guys were after Victor for some money, and they shot Mark when they couldn’t find him.”

  Tracy shook her head. “They always get the ones that really ain’t into it, ’cause Mark never knew what he was doin’.”

  “I know, and he had started goin’ to night school and all to better himself, too.”

  “He should have never dropped out,” Tracy commented. They parted ways for class, and Tracy arrived late.

  “Is there any reason why you’re late, Ms. Ellison?”

  “No, I just lost track of time.”

  “Well, make sure that you keep track of it while in detention today.”

  Tracy was appalled. “Oh, so I get a detention for being late one time?”

  “Yes you do, and just for your outrage, you’ve earned yourself another one.”

  Mr. Roberts was a no-nonsense English instructor, and Tracy hated him.

  Bald-headed fool. That’s why he ain’t got no wife, she snapped to herself. Nobody wants his behind.

  The detention ended faster than Tracy thought it would. She headed home after school with a girlfriend. A fast-running crook snatched her girlfriend’s earrings right off of her ears. Both girls screamed, but he was long gone before any help arrived. The pull had ripped the corner of one ear. Tracy’s companion bled while crying hysterically.

  A concerned citizen summoned a policeman, and Tracy explained to the officer what had happened. The girl was then escorted to Germantown Hospital, with Tracy comforting her until they had arrived. Dag, I’m glad my mom took my earrings, she thought.

  Afterward, Tracy rode the bus back home, bewildered by all of the unfortunate occurrences. She dropped her book-bag inside of the house and rushed to pick up Jason. While on her way past the playground, she noticed Victor and his friends loading up into cars. She suspected that they were heading to get revenge for Mark.

  Jason was the last child to be picked up, and on the way back home Tracy could have sworn that she saw Mercedes in a long brown coat and wearing a black baseball hat. She turned away, hoping it wasn’t Mercedes who was walking toward them. Tracy still had not gotten over the shock of her desperate drug addiction.

  “Tracy, let me talk with you. I feel a need to express myself,” the figure in the long brown coat said from behind. She was wearing a pink sweat suit with brand-new Reebok tennis shoes.

  “I don’t want to talk to you out here,” Tracy responded to her. She looked around to see who saw them.

  “Well, I’ll walk you home, so we can talk in your house like we used to.”

  Tracy asked, “Have you spoken to your mother?”

  “No, I haven’t, and don’t plan to, either.”

  “Well, what if they see you?”

  “It don’t matter. I have nothin’ to say to them,” Mercedes said out of spite.

  But won’t you be ashamed of them seeing you like this? Tracy wished she had the courage to ask.

  Mercedes sniffed and followed Tracy and her brother. She then took out a Newport.

  Tracy sped up her pace to get inside quickly, nervous about Raheema spotting them.

  Once they had made it inside, Mercedes sat on the couch. She began to shake and rub her hands together as if she were still cold and decided to keep her coat on.

  Jason asked, “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Nothin’, boy. Go on upstairs and watch TV in my room.”

  Jason peeked at Mercedes disgustedly before he ran upstairs.

  Mercedes looked at Tracy harshly. “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, but it can happen to you, too. It can happen to any and everybody.”

  Tracy felt Mercedes had a lot of explaining to do. It was a quarter to five. Patti was not expected home until five-thirty.

  Mercedes shook her head. Her baggy eyes were bloodshot under the black hat’s brim. “Look at me now. A year ago I thought I was the toughest thing walkin’. And I thought I could get out of taking drugs, but I had more and more problems, so I needed more shit.”

  She wiped her nose and continued. “Yup, Tracy, I had some good men that wanted to be with me, even marry me, but I turned them all down. I don’t know why, and shit. I guess I thought I was too much for these motherfuckin’ niggas out here.” She looked at Tracy and shrugged. “It might be over with for me, but I figured I could turn you around. It’s the least thing a sorry bitch like me can do now.”

  Tracy interjected, “Naw, it ain’t gonna happen to me. And your life ain’t over with yet. You’re only twenty years old.”

  Mercedes stood up to get her point across. “LOOK, GIRL . . . it ain’t that easy to say!”

  Tracy backed down nervously, thinking that “junkies” were violent. She didn’t want to alarm her.

  Mercedes calmed down and continued. “Every time you turn one nigga down, you gon’ go for another who’s more ruthless than the last. And they just gon’ dog you out and waste your damn time. It’s not the right way to go, but you put yourself in that boat when you’re young. And you’re never fuckin’ happy, because eventually you get bored with every one of them niggas. They don’t really like you and you don’t really like them. Y’all just buying time. He gives you some money and some clothes, while you’re giving him the pussy. And that shit ain’t changed in a hundred fucking years.”

  “Have you talked to your sister?” Tracy asked, holding back her tears. Mercedes sounded as if she had given up on life.

  “No. I haven’t seen her,” she answered. “How is she though?”

  “She got acne all up and down her face. She needs some attention,” Tracy assumed.

  Mercedes shook her head and sat back down. “See, all women got the same problem. I think we were better off in the caveman days when the men just took and fucked us . . . So what about that boyfriend of yours? The drug dealer?”

  Tracy frowned. “Who, Cash? Oh, I’m gettin’ out of that, because I’m tired of that drug shit.”

  Mercedes nodded. “That’s good, because once you get in it too deep, it’s hard to get back out. And all you’ll do is go run to the next one. But shit, at least I ain’t have no damn babies. That’s all I needed to drive me crazy.”

  “But what about you? Are you gonna get help or something?” Tracy asked, concerned about her.

  “Yeah, I’m going to this rehabilitation place tomorrow. And I guess I gotta be goin’ now.” She looked outside to see if her mother or Raheema might have been walking in. She then turned and faced Tracy. “Watch after my sister for me, all right? You’re stronger than she is.”

  Tracy nodded. She shook in her stance as she clos
ed the door. That could never happen to me, she told herself. I don’t even smoke. But Tracy would watch after Raheema. She felt that Raheema needed guidance, not her, and just like old times, she decided to call next door and make up.

  • • •

  Tracy answered her phone on the first ring, expecting it to be Cash. Patti still allowed her to have phone calls; she just could not leave the house.

  “Where was you at today?” he demanded.

  “I had a detention. And you don’t have to ask me like that.”

  “A detention, for what?”

  “You know what, Cash? I think you better call me back when you calm down.”

  “Naw, fuck that! We gon’ talk right now!” Cash was paranoid again that Tracy was trying to play him. He suspected that she had evaded him on purpose.

  Tracy smirked. “Cash, you gots to chill with all that hollering.”

  Cash was annoyed. He figured he would try to scare her into submission. “Aw’ight young-girl. I’m gon’ break you up when I see you. Watch.”

  Tracy retorted, “No you’re not.”

  Cash slammed the phone on her ear.

  Tracy sat on her bed, worried about tomorrow and unable to focus on her homework. She was too busy thinking about her situation. Cash was from a rough neighborhood, and most likely, she figured that he meant what he said.

  “Did your father call you yet?” her mother stopped in to ask.

  Tracy shook her head. “No.”

  “Mmm, hmm,” Patti grunted. “All right then. Go on back to your homework.”

  Tracy took longer than usual to put her clothing on that next morning. Before and after school, she watched her back for her safety, looking out for Cash. And after her second detention, Cash was nowhere in sight, so Tracy rushed home with her key in hand.

  A voice roared, “HAAH!”

  “AAAHHH!” Tracy screamed, throwing her hands to her chest. She then noticed that it was only Raheema. “Girl, what’s wrong with you?” she snapped.

  Raheema laughed. “You’re lucky, girl, because Cash was up here looking for you in his jeep.”

  “He was?”

  Raheema followed Tracy into her house. “You should have seen this rabbit-fur coat that he had on,” she commented. “It had like five different colors, and a hood.”