They gave each other one more look.
I added, “And I want you both to be honest with me.”
Jimmy didn’t speak up, but he did start to grin, and that told me that he definitely had something to say about it.
“Okay?” I asked him. “Be honest with me. What did I do?”
He said, “Well, I was just wondering why my dad can’t come by and pick me up from the house. I mean, he told me what happened with him and all, but he wouldn’t try nothing like what you’re thinking.”
I could tell Jimmy didn’t want to get too specific around Walter. He was referring to his father s prison time for armed robbery and my reluctance to forgive him for it.
I nodded. I said, “Okay, you’re right. That was wrong of me. I’ll think it all over, call him up, and straighten that all out as soon as I can. Anything else.” I didn’t want to go too much into that topic, because it was more of a private discussion between Jimmy and me. I figured I would pick up the conversation about his father at another time, like after Walter went to bed, because the boy had a big damn mouth, and J.D.’s prison time wasn’t everybody’s business.
Before Jimmy could add anything, Walter spoke up and said, “My father asked me almost the same question last weekend. And then when I told him, he started crying and stuff.”
Jimmy and I looked at each other.
“He started crying for what?” Jimmy asked his brother with a chuckle. I could never imagine J.D. crying for anything, and Jimmy was well aware of that himself. Jimmy wasn’t the crying type either. I had never even thought of Walter Jr. crying, however. He seemed far too selfish for tears. His only tears would be for his own disappointments. Maybe Walter had cried when I told him I was pregnant with his child thirteen years ago. That was a real disappointment for him. So what could he be crying for now?
My son said, “He asked me if he was mean like my grandfather. And I said that he used to be, and that I didn’t like being around him before, but now it’s getting to be fun. And then he started crying and said that he wouldn’t treat me or you mean ever again.” Walter looked up into my eyes and was really excited about it.
Jimmy smiled really hard and started nodding his head. “Yup, you’re starting to like him now,” he teased.
Walter snapped, “So? You like your father.”
“I mean, I’m not saying anything’s wrong with it, I just remember when you used to say that you hated him all the time. I never hated my father,” Jimmy responded to him.
“Because your father was always cool.”
“Yeah, but he was never around as much as your father.”
“Now he is.”
Jimmy said, “I know. And he is cool. He got a night job now so he can see all of my games when the season starts.”
“Well, my father told me that I should go out for the track team this year.”
“Well, good for you.”
“Would you come out and see me?”
Jimmy smiled and said, “If you win.”
Walter sucked his teeth. “You don’t win all the time. That’s why your team lost the summer leagues.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t my fault,” Jimmy responded. “But I’ll go to your track meets, man. Our track coach wants me to come out for the high jump. He said I got the hops and height to make it to the Olympics if I worked hard enough.”
“He said that?” Walter asked in shock.
“Yeah.”
They had pretty much forgotten about me. I said, “Okay, I’m glad that you two like your fathers. Now is there anything else that your mother could do better?”
They gave each other one last look.
Walter said, “Not really. I mean, you’re a good mom. I’m sorry that nobody married you yet. Maybe Mr. Brock would want to marry you.”
It felt like a hot dagger had poked me in my heart. I asked for honesty, and I had gotten it. I looked over to Jimmy, and he quickly ran his eyes away from me. That told me that he agreed with his brother. For the first time, I felt how my mother must have felt. My sons were pitying me like I pitied her. I wanted to tell them that I would be all right and that I didn’t need a man, per se, to make my life complete. Yet they had been around me all of their lives, and just like I knew the truth about my mother, they knew the truth about me. I was too proud to beg, and too dignified to be told what I should or needed to do. However, deep down inside, I already knew the truth. I wanted a complete family like anybody else.
I was practically up all night, thinking about everything. I called my mother and apologized to her and Nikita. I called Camellia and apologized for not making the meeting. I called Brock and left him a message to have a safe trip on the road. Then I planned to settle with both of my sons’ fathers and support them in any way I could in reestablishing themselves in their sons’ lives, despite my own disappointments with them. I still had to deal with my feelings about the Perry family in Barrington, however. Maybe I needed to wait before I called Walter, so I could gather some calmer words for him. He was proving that he was the asshole I already suspected him of being. I still didn’t want his family’s money, but I did want to at least protect my son’s future. He was a Perry whether they liked it or not, and I had the duty of raising him.
When I was finished with my phone calls, with setting out my plans, and with thinking over the events of the day, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine Walter Perry Jr. breaking into tears in front of his son. I thought about the last time that I had broken down and cried for anything. I had to think all the way back to my relationship with J.D., and his cowardice as a father. I cried on many of those sleepless, lonely nights when he had failed to come back to his mother’s house to me and his son, deciding instead to stay out all night and run the Chicago streets with his gang-affiliated “friends.”
I thought about those tears and how I was able to strengthen myself against the hurt and pain, not allowing them to fall so freely ever again. So that when I was pregnant with Walter, there were no more tears to cry. I simply dealt with my situation. And over the years, there had been plenty to cry about that I refused to. In the rejection of those tears, I had become something else, some different kind of woman, and a different kind of human. What kind of a woman could not cry? I even tried to force myself to cry again, and could not do it. I shed not one tear.
I found myself wanting to cry for not being able to cry. I needed to cleanse myself with tears. I needed to wash away all of the denial of hurt and disappointment, and start all over again. But how could I do that without becoming vulnerable? And if I did allow myself to become vulnerable again, how would I ever be able to climb back on my feet and continue being the thing that I had become? Or maybe, I did not need to be this thing at all. Maybe I needed to be connected to someone else for strength, so that my tears would never fall on empty pillows. In the Good Book, God’s gifts to humans were the world and one another. Could it all be so simple … yet so hard to attain?
Role Models
walked into Kim’s place before she left for work to talk to her about a few things. I had to stop procrastinating and get a conversation going about what she really wanted from me. She had given me a key to her apartment, but she hadn’t asked for any rent money yet, and her son was getting close enough to becoming at least a nephew to me. What was it all about, and where exactly were we headed? I had to get to the bottom line before things started to get hectic. I was getting too comfortable with the way things were.
Jamal ran up to me for his usual jump on my legs, and tripped over his untied shoelaces.
“Would you stop running in the house!” his mother yelled at him. The boy was always falling around in the house. He needed to get out and have more space to run around in.
“Come here,” I told him, leading him over to the living room couch. “You don’t know how to tie your shoelaces yet?”
Kim stuck her nose out and said, “Nobody taught him.”
I wanted to say, “Why couldn’t you teach him?” but I let
it slide. I was beginning to realize that silence was golden. The more you respond to everything a woman says, the more petty arguments you get into. So instead of going that route, I showed Jamal how to tie his shoelaces.
“You’re working another half day?” I asked Kim.
“That’s what it looks like. If I wasn’t, I’d be gone already.”
I stopped tying Jamal’s Reeboks and looked up at his mother. She was really pushing it close to my breaking point. Years ago, I would have been out of there in a hurry, but I had to learn how to fight for something. I had to learn how to keep things together. It just didn’t seem like Kim was up for helping me much.
I asked her, “You’re about to take him to your mother’s?” It was three twenty-five. Jamal was just getting in from school.
“Yeah,” Kim answered.
“Doesn’t he get tired of getting picked up so late from his grandmother’s, and then having to get up early and go to school in the mornings? No wonder he has a hard time getting up.” It just seemed like Jamal was being punished because of his mom’s crazy work schedule, not to mention his grandmother. I had never met her, but I could imagine that she could use a break. Jamal was far from being your sit-still-and-read-a-book kind of kid. He was a real attention-getter.
Kim said, “That’s what I usually do. I mean, why all of the questions all of a sudden?”
I was trying to decide if I would watch Jamal. Instead of him going over to his grandmother’s so much, he could hang out with me. But I wasn’t sure if I wanted to commit to the idea yet. I was trying to talk myself into it. Asking Kim questions was my way of exploring the idea.
“Are you going to be back here before eleven?”
Kim finally got the message. She looked at me and Jamal and grinned. “I could be back before eleven if I needed to be.” She said, “Jay, if you want to watch Jamal today, I wouldn’t mind. All I have to do is tell my mother.”
Jamal got excited about it immediately. “Yeah, let J.D. watch me, Mom.”
Once Kim figured out what I was beating around the bush about, it was too late to turn back, unless I came up with some lame, last-minute excuse. I figured the least I could do was to find out how hard it could be. I used to get Little Jay when he was younger, but I never had him for any long stretch of time. Neecy always monitored how long he stayed with me, as if spending too much time with me would have ruined her son, our son, for life. I guess I had gotten used to spending only a few hours with him. Kim, on the other hand, was willing to let Jamal stay with me for as long as I could have him. I felt concerned about that. Kim already had enough free time to herself. Her mother may as well have kept Jamal permanently.
I asked, “Did you tell your mother anything about me?” I was still stalling. Taking Jamal for a day would be a big step for me. Kim was the kind of woman who, if you gave her an inch … I realized that watching Jamal for a day would only be a tease.
“She knows about you. Are you gonna keep Jamal until I get off from work then?”
I was curious. “What did you tell your mother about me?” Did she include information about my prison time? I always thought about my prison history. Employers made it hard for me to ever forget.
“I told her that you were a hardworking black man. In fact, let me call her right now and tell her that you’ll be watching Jamal tonight.”
Jamal jumped up and down and celebrated. I had the feeling that Kim had buttered me up and cooled me off with her quick answers. I wanted to go into more detail about what she told her mother about me.
“And what did you mother say?” I asked.
Kim jumped on the phone and held up her index finger to quiet me down. I felt like I was her second son. I didn’t like the vibes I was getting. Kim was already taking advantage of the situation, and I hadn’t even addressed what I wanted to talk about between us.
“Yeah, Mom, you won’t have to watch Jamal today. My friend Jay is gonna watch him,” Kim told her mother. “They get along good together. I think Jamal needs a man in his life,” she said, looking toward me with a grin.
Jamal was all over me. I was sitting there feeling like a turkey on Thanksgiving, ready to be carved the hell up!
“I like how you just ran with things like that,” I told Kim after she hung up the phone. I didn’t think the shit was cute, either! “But since I’ll be watching Jamal,” I said, “we could use this extra time that you have now to make it to work to talk about things.”
Kim nodded her head like an eager Girl Scout. “Okay. Let’s talk.” She walked over and sat down next to me and her son. With all three of us sitting on the couch like that, I couldn’t help noticing that we appeared to be like an average American family.
Suddenly, I had problems getting my words together. “Ah,” I mumbled. “What I wanted to talk about is, um, you know, where we, ah, see ourselves.”
Kim hunched her shoulders. “Like I said before, I can’t force you to do anything.”
“And that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” I responded. “I mean, what is it that you want me to do? What do you really want from me?”
Kim slowed down and looked right at me. “If I have to ask, then can I have what I want from you?” she questioned. She looked sexy as hell when she asked me that! I wanted to do her in a heartbeat, but her son was in the way. Besides, she had to be to work soon, and since I had been staying with her, I had gotten used to getting the long treatment instead of those wham-bam quickies expected by uncommitted visitor types.
I said, “That’s what I’m still trying to ask you. What is it that you want? I mean, I’m already here as much as I can be. You know I still have other things to do.”
“Yeah, but it just seems like I don’t have your full attention when you’re here. It’s like a piece of you is always missing. I want to have all of you.”
Kim was dead serious. In the past, whenever women talked about men not giving their all, I used to act as if it was an alien philosophy. In my immature years, maybe it was. But I had done a lot of growing up over the last couple of months of being with my son again, and I realized that women knew what the hell they were talking about. I wasn’t giving my all. I wasn’t quite ready for that last hurrah. I was still wondering if a wedge would come between Kim and me to make things unbearable for a long-standing relationship. I was holding on to my last boat of freedom, and at the same time, I realized that my ship was sinking. I was getting too old to keep playing them same old games. I was tired of feeling detached from shit, like how Neecy had me feeling toward my son. I was tired of feeling detached from a job, and counting down the days before I would be laid off or fired again. I knew exactly what Kim was saying, because I wanted the same thing. I wanted to feel that I was a part of something too, and not just a temporary component that wasn’t always needed. I was tired of living that way.
I stepped up to the plate and asked, “So how are we gonna do this? Do we start all over and lay down the rules? I mean, there’s just a whole lot that we need to discuss.”
Kim said, “Well, we don’t have to rush it. We have time.”
I shook my head. “Time is just getting in the way. Now either we’re gonna settle this or we’re not. Because you’re not acting like we have any more time, especially with the way you’ve been going off lately. You said it yourself, you don’t know what to expect from me. So let’s get to the bottom of it.”
It occurred to me at that moment that Kim was just as paranoid as I was. When you’re not used to having things go your way, you don’t know how to have any faith in your future. Kim was actually giving me room to squirm my way out of anything serious, because she was afraid of things breaking down again. How many relationships had broken down on her before? It was the same predicament that made Neecy so tough to handle. They had a lack of confidence in others, particularly in black men, and I honestly couldn’t blame them for that.
I realized just how difficult a situation single mothers were in. They couldn’t just lock on to a guy,
and since they couldn’t, they had no confidence in continuing any relationship with a man. A steady man for Kim was like a dream where you always wake up just to find out that you’ve been bullshitted. I knew those dreams well. I had them when I was in prison. But after the first year inside, they just faded away from my consciousness. From then on, the only dreams I had were about protecting the pieces of myself that I had left. That only makes you skeptical of every situation you find yourself in while you’re awake. It seemed as if someone was always after you, and you’re forever feeling guilty about shit, while just waiting for things to fuck up again. It was an ugly way to live.
Kim and I were both silent for a minute. In fact, Jamal was doing the talking.
“Are you gonna take me to get a haircut?” he asked me.
I smiled and nodded to him. “Yeah, it does look like you need one.” I ran my hand through his hair. Jamal had hair growing down his neck. “When was the last time you had a haircut?” I asked him.
“He got it cut three weeks ago,” Kim answered.
I was surprised. “And it grew this much already?”
Jamal had really thick kinky hair. He could have grown a hell of an Afro! His baby pictures proved it. I guess I hadn’t been noticing too many things in my detachment from him. A man who was planning on staying around would have noticed.
I gave my attention back to Jamal’s mother. “Well, have you thought about it? How are we gonna work this out?”
Kim took a deep breath and stood up. She seemed more hesitant about the state of our relationship than I was. “Look, let’s just talk about this later on. I mean, you just caught me off guard, and now is not the time for it. I have to be to work soon.”
I began to smile. I had called her bluff, and Kim was backing down, but I wasn’t bluffing anymore.