Street Love

Damien turned away to find a place within

  Himself to hide, knowing that hiding was no

  Answer. His mother, a woman betrayed,

  Locked in the prison of her frustration,

  Continued through the night

  His father joined the chorus

  As they sang songs of

  Well-Meaning/Parental/Hallelujahs

  All-Encompassing Wisdom

  With an occasional blues riff

  To show that they were

  With It

  Sleep, hard coming, dream-filled

  Gnawed at the night

  The too-hot autumn smothered him

  With self-doubt as what he knew

  Tortured all he felt

  DAMIEN wakes at NIGHT

  It came to him

  Like a cold rush of a wave

  On a dark and foggy beach

  Shocking the senses

  Dazzling the brain

  And when he had caught his breath

  Had regained his balance

  Had clawed his way through sleep to

  Wakefulness

  He saw clearly and finally

  That nothing he had thought about her

  Mattered

  Not that she was soft

  Or firm, or sweet or wondrous beyond compare

  Not that her smile

  Sang to his heart

  Or that her voice

  Soft against the hard jazz of the city

  Filled him with a delight he had

  Not thought possible, no

  It was the becoming that he loved

  The becoming of him and her,

  Of Junice and Damien, and what more they

  Could be together than he had ever dreamed

  Alone.

  It was not just the girl

  He loved, but the Them

  Of them, the city shape of them

  The hard concrete of them

  Against the dark-blue sky of them

  The sweet promise of them

  Of them, and them

  And them

  Them

  NINE a.m. DAMIEN calls JUNICE

  The phone ringing, Damien sits cross-legged

  On his bed, wondering what to say

  The phone ringing

  Forever in your arms

  Is where I want to be

  Holding you close

  Within the space

  That once held only me

  The phone ringing

  Forever in your warmth

  The place for me and you

  I feel the sun

  Our life’s just begun

  I know you feel it too

  The phone ringing

  No one answering

  DAMIEN at JUNICE’S DOOR

  He listened for her footsteps, heard a distant radio,

  A creaking sound, Miss Ruby filling the doorway

  “Junice ain’t here,” she said. “Maybe she’s at church.”

  He imagined drawing a line along the tops of

  Miss Ruby’s shoulders, another through the hips,

  And wondered in what dimension they would meet

  “You know it’s Sunday,” she said.

  “And she ain’t really gone, just out for the moment.

  Just away. Maybe church, or maybe just away

  From heartbreak. You know how you people

  Like to bring heartbreak to a woman’s door,”

  Miss Ruby said. “And what was your name again?”

  Damien wrapped himself in despair against

  The cold wind, merciless as it lifted off the

  River and pushed its way crosstown.

  There was so much to say to Junice, he knew

  And so little time to fit the words into his

  Mouth.

  His stomach churned, ached

  For Junice, for her to hear his

  Please, his pleas, his desperate “I love you”

  The passion in “I need you so much!”

  He went home and called her from his

  Room

  He called her as he walked down the

  Street, searching passing faces

  Looking for her eyes, all the

  While trembling inside, trembling

  That it might already be too

  Late. She might have taken

  Her heart to another place.

  KEVIN and DAMIEN on MALCOLM X BOULEVARD

  Damien, where have you been, bro?

  I’ve been seeking and peeking

  Around the corners and down

  The streets since I heard that you and

  Sledge had a serious throwdown

  What was that about, man?

  Issues, my pride in myths

  Against his emptiness

  I put love and Junice in the

  Same breath and Sledge,

  Whose soul barely peeks above

  Indifference, scoffed and clawed

  At the idea of it.

  In the end, with no chance of

  Winning, we both slunk away with

  Our tails and tales between our legs

  With only the children watching

  Applauding our violent dance

  Junice said something about a wound

  But I see you’re merely scratched

  You saw her? You spoke to her?

  I’ve been calling, but there’s been no answer

  I thought you knew

  She’s going to Memphis

  Tennessee? When?

  Tonight. What will you do?

  Go after her.

  What airline is she going on?

  She’s walking the dog, man

  Greyhound. Tonight at nine.

  But hear me. Hear me though

  The words are coming up like

  Blood from my throat because

  I don’t want to speak them.

  You can’t chase her, Damien.

  You’d have to surrender your life

  She doesn’t know what she’s going to

  Do. All she got down there is an old woman

  With an older Bible who might take them

  In. Give them a room, a roof

  The squareness of walls. But her

  Situation sounds impossible.

  It’s impossible for her to stay here

  To surrender Melissa to a system

  That doesn’t love her. To put

  Her own oar into the waters of that

  System.

  What will you do if you find her?

  Stay with her forever. Longer

  If God chooses.

  Damien. I love you like a brother, but

  You can’t do this.

  There is an excitement about Junice

  I feel it when I see her, I sense it

  In your voice. But excitement is not

  Enough, it is not a Forever cast

  True, my brother, but the flash of

  Danger that surrounds this girl

  Illuminates her spirit

  Like lightning zagging across

  The rooftops on a steamy August

  Night

  And in that terrible flash

  I see a spirit too noble to

  Put aside. And the angel of her

  Presence, too precious not to love

  Standing in the only

  Path left for me to take

  Damien, what will you do?

  Gather my courage, scrape together my

  Resolve, withdraw all the character I can

  Muster, and go after her. Maybe in Memphis

  I can find the hope of an answer, or the

  Certain pain of failure. Otherwise

  It’s all nothing but the constant stumble

  To the grave. Wish me luck, bro.

  Damien, I got your back

  Wherever you are I’m going to be

  There with you. I’m not a praying dude

  But I’ll be talking to the Man for you

  Two.
You deal with the Memphis

  End, and count on me to be

  Here. To the end, Damien.

  And on from there, Kevin.

  And on from there.

  The PORT AUTHORITY BUS TERMINAL

  The New York bus terminal is dark

  Is dark despite the garish lights assembled

  Along the tiled walls. Dark as if,

  As if some malignant spirit has settled

  Down with the tortured souls that rest

  There until the police move them.

  As if the desperate late-night travelers

  To Salt Lake City and Savannah

  And Memphis don’t deserve the brightness

  Of hope.

  On the lowest floor, among the shuffling

  Ragged and hairy men, families guarding

  Cardboard boxes and plastic shopping

  Bags, Damien found Junice.

  Sitting next to an old man

  Brazil-nut brown on the hard bench

  His legs as restless, as aimless

  As his restless, aimless tongue

  She caught her breath when she

  Saw him, turned quickly

  Away.

  Melissa peered wide-eyed around her

  Sister’s shoulder.

  “Memphis is a special place,” the old

  Man said, remembering a distant brawl

  Of nights and thinking it might have

  Been Memphis. “Good people fall in

  That town, but only strong people rise again.”

  Damien sat next to Junice

  Knowing she could feel his warmth through

  The space between them.

  DAMIEN and JUNICE

  Junice

  Damien I don’t want to see you.

  I’m so glad you came.

  I don’t want you to say good-bye. Good-bye

  I need to be brave, now. I’m so scared

  I’m going with you

  You’re not strong enough. Go back

  Home. I love you, but go back home.

  You belong in a safer place. There’s

  So little for me in Memphis, a distant relative,

  A life I don’t know. You need to be safe.

  It’s all I want for you. Don’t kiss my fingers.

  Junice, there’s no leaving in me.

  No gentle grieving and going on

  This is a forever moment

  We hold in our hands

  Yes, we’re in a storm

  But it’s a storm we can stand

  As one, as Damien and Junice

  And Melissa

  Wherever your heart rests

  There I will live and be blessed

  I’ve tried to line up the things I

  Needed to say but now my feelings just

  Tumble from me. I am half foolish,

  Half drunk with wanting you

  With wanting to take your hand

  And leap into the darkness of whatever

  Life will bring. Love makes me

  Brave and without love I’m made

  Nothing.

  Aren’t you afraid?

  Trembling. A bird on a leaf

  My hands are numb, my knees weak

  With resolution. I am Adam, reeling

  From the Garden

  Can I be your Eve?

  Can you really leave

  Yesterday’s Damien behind?

  I’ll never find him again if I search a thousand years.

  They’re getting on the bus, Melissa says.

  We’re getting on the bus.

  Yes. Yes.

  JUNICE with DAMIEN and MELISSA on the BUS to MEMPHIS

  As Damien sleeps, I lie with my cheek against

  His side. His clothing smells of nervous sweat

  The sound of his heart is comforting.

  The occasional highway lights flicker through

  The half-empty bus. A ghost White woman with

  Dark, shiny eyes presses her face against a window.

  Damien has written a letter to his parents

  I imagine him typing, searching for words

  Thinking again and again how useless words can be

  “I will call you soon,” is all that I left for Miss Ruby

  What would I add, that it is crying time?

  I am crying for Miss Ruby, and vow to find

  A place for her, as I will find one for Melissa

  In this fearful moment I am crying for Mama

  Vowing to forgive her. One day. Some day.

  Melissa woke and came from her seat to

  Where Damien and I huddled. I smiled

  At her and she didn’t smile back. But she

  Lifted my hand from Damien’s shoulder,

  Kissed it, and put it carefully back.

  I am crying for Damien. He is so beautiful with

  His gifts of love, so wise in his reasoning, but I

  Wonder if I can be strong enough for him.

  And then…And then…And then I am not

  Crying. I am not on a bus but a captain

  Battling the tossing sea and I am peering

  Straight ahead through the fog and darkness

  Knowing that somewhere there is safety,

  Somewhere there is a land where we can

  Build and plant and grow.

  Damien tells me that he has withdrawn

  His savings, but worries that it will not

  Be enough. I don’t answer.

  Damien, I am Street, we will make it.

  Damien says that we must have a plan to succeed.

  Damien, I am Street, I plan to survive.

  His voice dropped when he said…perhaps…we should

  Marry, his arm pulling me closer.

  “We’ll see, my love,” I answered.

  As Damien sleeps, I lie with my cheek against

  His side. His clothing smells of nervous sweat

  The sound of his heart is comforting.

  About the Author

  WALTER DEAN MYERS is the renowned author of AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MY DEAD BROTHER, a National Book Award finalist; SHOOTER, a Children's Book Sense Summer Pick; MONSTER, the first winner of the Michael L. Printz Award; THE DREAM BEARER and HANDBOOK FOR BOYS: A Novel, both New York Public Library Books for the Teen Age; BAD BOY: A Memoir, a Parents' Choice Gold Award winner; and the Newbery Honor Books SCORPIONS and SOMEWHERE IN THE DARKNESS. He wrote THE HARLEM HELLFIGHTERS: When Pride Met Courage, the New York Library Association Book of the Season; PATROL: An American Soldier in Vietnam, illustrated by Ann Grifalconi; I'VE SEEN THE PROMISED LAND: The Life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and MALCOLM X: A Fire Burning Brightly, both illustrated by Leonard Jenkins; and the Caldecott Honor Book HARLEM and JAZZ, both illustrated by Christopher Myers. He makes frequent appearances with the National Basketball Association's "Read to Achieve" program. Mr. Myers lives with his family in Jersey City, New Jersey.

  You can visit him online at www.walterdeanmyers.net.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

  Also by Walter Dean Myers

  FICTION

  Autobiography of My Dead Brother

  National Book Award Finalist

  Crystal

  The Dream Bearer

  Handbook for Boys: A Novel

  It Ain’t All for Nothin’

  Monster

  Michael L. Printz Award

  Coretta Scott King Author Honor Book

  National Book Award Finalist

  The Mouse Rap

  Patrol: An American Soldier in Vietnam

  Jane Addams Children’s Book Award

  The Righteous Revenge of Artemis Bonner Scorpions

  Newbery Honor Book

  Shooter

  The Story of the Three Kingdoms

  NONFICTION

  Angel to Angel: A Mother’s Gift of Love Bad Boy: A Memoir

  Brown Angels: An Album of Pictures and Verse I’ve Seen the Promise
d Land:

  The Life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

  Malcolm X: A Fire Burning Brightly

  Now Is Your Time!:

  The African-American Struggle for Freedom

  Coretta Scott King Author Award

  The Harlem Hellfighters: When Pride Met Courage

  Credits

  Cover art © 2006 by Tristan Eaton

  Cover design by Ray Shappell

  Copyright

  STREET LOVE. Copyright © 2006 by Walter Dean Myers. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  EPub © Edition NOVEMBER 2008 ISBN: 9780061975080

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