“Nah, football, but I gotta get outta here,” I said. “I wear number one, just in case you make it.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” she said, and for a second she reminded me of the mother I used to know. “Hey, Romeo.”
“Yeah,” I said, turning around to face her.
“You think you could…” She paused, seeming to search for the right words.
I knew what was coming next.
“You think you could let me hold a few dollars until I get paid? I get my check on Monday. I just need enough to get me something to eat and bus fare.”
“I got a bus pass you can have, and if you wanna walk with me, I can get you something to eat.”
Her smile turned upside down, and an incredible metamorphosis took place right before my eyes. Her eyes turned a deep bloodshot red and they narrowed into little slits. I could literally see the beast coming out of her.
“Just give me the damn money, boy,” she said in a low growl. Her hands were clenched at her sides.
“No,” I said flatly, although I was amazed at what I saw before me.
She reached for my pocket, and I grabbed her hand.
“I need this money, Romeo,” she said.
“I gotta go,” I said, tossing her hand away from my pockets. “You should get you some help. But if you’re hungry, my offer still stands.”
Her entire mood shifted. It was as if my kindness softened her.
“Romeo, your momma done come a long way, but I still got a long road to travel, you know. I need you to help me out a little bit. Just a few dollars would help me a lot. I’m trying to get it together, but these things take time. Just give me a few dollars. Please,” she begged.
“Sorry, Pearl,” I said, fighting myself to not give her the money. The part of me that refused to contribute to her demise won.
The beast came back. She huffed and puffed and looked like she wanted to blow my head off. She reached for me again, but I grabbed her hands and easily pried them away from me.
“Keep your hands off of me,” I said in a firm voice.
“I’m sorry, son. I…I…I am,” she said, blinking her eyes rapidly as if trying to shake the demons off.
I stood there for a few seconds, staring at the woman who had comforted me through my childhood aches and pains, and all I could do was shake my head. I left my room and went out to the living room where Nana was sitting on the sofa. I walked over and kissed her on the forehead. When I stood back up, I saw Pearl staring at me.
Something was definitely wrong with her, but I wasn’t qualified enough to figure it out, so I turned away and tried to forget her.
“Nana, don’t let her take anything from my room,” I said.
“I didn’t raise any thieves, Romeo,” Nana chastised me with a sharp look.
“Okay,” I said, my eyes on Pearl, who was standing by my door giving me the evil eye. “I’ll call you on my way back to see what you want to eat.”
“That’s fine,” Nana said, letting me know she was disappointed in me.
Pearl stormed toward us, grabbed her jacket, and walked out of the apartment without saying a word to me or Nana. I thought I saw a tear rolling down her face. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. After all, she was still my mother.
3
ROMEO
I ran toward the corner where I normally caught the bus and was stopped dead in my tracks by that brand-new fence.
I gotta get used to that thing, I thought.
I could see the MARTA bus making its way toward me, and if I walked around the fence, then I was sure to miss it, so I had to jump it. I couldn’t get any traction in my slippery dress shoes, and the bus was steadily barreling toward me. I reached up and grabbed the top of the fence to pull myself over it.
Ouch!
The pointed side of the fence stuck me in the hand, drawing blood. I almost fell back down, but I made it across. I grimaced in pain, held my bloody hand with my good one, and ran to the bus stop. The big vehicle came to a halt and I got on, showed my bus pass to the driver, and plopped down in the front seat. I looked down at my hand and saw that the bleeding wasn’t so bad. It was just a flesh cut, but it still could use a little attention. I leaned over and asked the driver if he had anything for my hand. He looked back and nodded toward a first-aid kit hanging by the token collector.
“Do I just get it myself?”
“You want me to stop the bus and get it?” he asked sarcastically as he whipped the big steering wheel around and turned onto Highway 78, headed toward downtown Decatur.
“I didn’t want to assume,” I said, standing up and retrieving the kit. I opened it and grabbed some gauze and a mini bottle of peroxide. After cleaning and wrapping my hand, I closed the kit and put it back where I’d found it. “Thanks, man,” I said.
“That ain’t your throwing hand, is it?” the driver asked. He was a funny-looking man. Gray hair with a bald spot showing a shiny dome, but the funny thing was he had a ponytail covered with colorful rubber bands.
“Nah,” I said, surprised that the man knew who I was.
“Y’all looked good the other night. Just ain’t got no defense. You did your job, but who in the hell y’all got back there playing cornerback?”
I smiled, then laughed. My man Amir was the culprit.
“That boy couldn’t catch a cold in Alaska if all he had on was tighty whities and a fedora. What in the world was y’all coach thinking about when he put that joker in the game?”
I laughed at the visual. “We’re working on him,” I said.
“Four passes landed in his hands and what did he do? Dropped all four of them. I mean, come on, man. Put him on the bench with some Krazy Glue on his butt. That boy is a disgrace to the game.”
“He’s fast, so we need the speed,” I said, still laughing at the old man and his high-pitched New Orleans accent. “And our starter was suspended for failing some classes.”
“Speed? Well, he needs to use that speed to hurry up and find somewhere to sit his butt down. Maybe he should take up badminton, swimming, or something, but I swear football ain’t his thing.”
“I hear ya,” I said.
“You know where you going to college at yet?”
“Not yet. Still tryna figure it out,” I said, still amazed that so many people were concerned about my choice of college.
“Let me give you a piece of advice, son. Leave. Too many distractions around here for you. Young folks round here shooting each other just ’cause they mad. In my day, a good fistfight was good enough to settle a problem, but not these days. Youngins these days can’t fight. Scared to take a beat-down. Would rather shoot somebody and go to prison than deal with a lil embarrassment. Signs that the end is near.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “This is my stop right here.”
He pushed the brakes, and the bus squeaked to a halt. “Boy, I’ll tell you, Fred Flintstone got better brakes than this doggone bus,” he said.
“It was nice talking to you, my man,” I said, standing up and waiting on the five or six people who sat behind me to exit the bus.
“You