Something Noble, Page 4

  “Yeah, well, sometimes the big brain gets overruled by the little brain.”

  “I don’t wanna go through all this again,” I say. “I’ve moved on. If it wasn’t for Marco, you wouldn’t be in my life at all. So just remember that.”

  “All right,” says Ernest humbly.

  I look at the window. It’s got bars over it, but I imagine a pair of hands ripping them off, the glass shattering, someone climbing in. Someone like LeVon or one of his shady friends. I have to hope he didn’t talk about me to any of them.

  It would be good to have a man in the house for a night or two. Just to set my mind at ease.

  “You can sleep on the couch,” I say.

  It’s ridiculous how grateful he looks. He really must be lonely, I think. After that little escapade with what’s-her-name didn’t work out, he’s been hanging around here like a seagull at a beach picnic. Just hoping for a few scraps of affection to be thrown his way.

  “Okay,” he says. “Thanks.”

  “What are you thanking me for? You’re supposed to be protecting us.”

  “Right. And I will.”

  “But I’m warning you, I’m sleeping with a frying pan,” I say. “And if you try anything, I’m going to crack your dome like an egg.”

  “Come on,” says Ernest, looking offended. “What kind of guy do you think I am?”

  * * *

  Late that night, I lie in bed, looking up at the ceiling. Every little sound I hear gets magnified. Cars go by outside all night long. That’s nothing unusual. I can hear Marco snoring in the room he shares with Dre. Both of them are sleeping peacefully for once. Marco has been having nightmares lately. I tried to spare him the worst, but he’s overheard my phone conversations with the doctor. He knows Dre is sick and needs a new kidney. You can’t slip anything past that kid.

  And Dre is changing before my eyes. He’s no kid anymore. This illness has altered him. We don’t talk about it, but I know he’s fearing the worst. I try to keep things light around here. It’s just hard to pretend like there’s nothing wrong. And he hates the shunt that’s still in his arm, up in his shirt sleeve. He says it makes him feel like a robot.

  All I want is what any mother wants. I want my kids to be safe. I want them to have a decent shot at a good life for themselves. I don’t want any special favors from the world. But I know from experience that the world is not a fair place.

  When I start feeling sorry for myself sometimes, I can get to feeling like we’ve had more than our fair share of knocks. Thinking that way is a trap. I try to stay clear of it. But late at night, when I’m trying to get to sleep, that’s when the bad thoughts close in on me. I feel like I’m surrounded by tigers, just waiting to tear me apart.

  Single moms don’t get a lot of sleep. I try to tell myself that just this once I can let go and let Ernest do the worrying.

  Sometime in the early morning, when the sun is already beginning to color the sky, I finally drift off.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Dialysis is no big deal. You sit there while your blood runs through a machine and the toxins are taken out. The only bad thing is, it takes a long time. Between three and five hours. So you’ve got all that time to sit there and wonder about all kinds of bad things.

  My mama used to say that a person should always be either working or sleeping, never just sitting still. It’s when you’re doing nothing that you start to fall apart, little by little. I never believed her before. I never had time to sit still. But now I see what she means. She had plenty to worry about, my mama. Cancer took my dad twenty years ago. That’s when I started to run wild. She fretted over me until cancer took her too, ten years later.

  Dre wants me to leave him at the clinic and come back for him. But there’s no way I’m leaving him alone. Maybe I should stop treating him like a baby. But this is no time for heroics. I stick it out with him.

  “How do you feel?” I ask when it’s all done.

  “Mama, it’s amazing,” he said. “I feel great. I feel normal. Like I could go back to school.”

  “No way,” I say. “Too many germs.

  You’re staying home.”

  “No fair,” he grumbles. “I’m going crazy just sitting around.”

  We get back in the car and head home. He’s mad at me now, but in a couple of days he’s going to be feeling pretty sick again, and he’ll see what I mean. He can’t push his luck. Sometimes your luck pushes back.

  We’re on the street, not far from the projects, when I see a familiar face on the sidewalk. It’s LeVon.

  Part of me wants to drive on and pretend he’s not there. He hasn’t spotted me. But another part of me won’t let that happen. And that’s the part that takes over. I pull up to the curb so he will pass right by us.

  “What are you doing, Mama?” Dre asks, confused.

  “Yo, LeVon!” I say through the open window. “LeVon! Over here!”

  “What are you talking to that guy for?” Dre asks. “He’s a dealer!”

  “Hold on,” I say. “I just need to talk to him a second.”

  LeVon stops and approaches the car, but he stays back several feet.

  “Yeah?” he says. “You wanna partay, hit the boys at the fountain. Don’t be doggin’ me on the street.”

  “LeVon, it’s Linda, remember?” I say. “I was talking to you the other day.”

  “Oh, yeah, right,” says LeVon. “The crazy lady.”

  “I wanted to introduce you to somebody. This is Dre. Dre, LeVon is Terrell’s son from a lady named Angelique. You guys are brothers. Got the same father anyway.”

  Dre and LeVon size each other up. I can tell what they think of each other. Dre thinks LeVon is a worthless gang-banger, because that’s the way I raised him to think. And LeVon thinks Dre is a weak-ass half-breed whose mama drives him around town in a crappy old car. But the word brother hangs in the air like a cloud of smoke. And neither of them is the first to wave it away.

  “S’up,” says LeVon.

  “Hey,” says Dre.

  “You remember about that dinner?” I say. “Why don’t you come on over tonight?”

  Dre looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  LeVon just shakes his head.

  “This is all very touching, but I got places to be,” he says. “We can have our little reunion some other time.”

  “All right,” I say reluctantly. I don’t want to push my luck. Because sometimes your luck pushes back.

  LeVon and I see the cop car at the same time. I can hear dealers whistling warnings to each other. The cop car rolls slowly down the block, like a shark cruising for swimmers. LeVon freezes up.

  “On second thought,” he says, “maybe I will come right now.”

  “Get in,” I say.

  LeVon gets in the backseat and slams the door.

  “I can’t believe this,” says Dre, putting his face in his hands.

  “Go ahead. Roll,” says LeVon.

  “Wait,” I say. “You’re not holding, are you?”

  “Damn, lady, what you think? Of course I’m holding,” says LeVon. The cop rolls past, and LeVon sinks down out of sight. “I’m a drug dealer. That’s what drug dealers do. You think I wanna be seen in this here splendid automobile because it got style?”

  “Pass it off,” I say. “Get rid of it.”

  I don’t have much room to boss LeVon around right now. I need him on my side too bad. But I have a strict rule about drugs: keep them the hell away from my kids. No exceptions.

  “Go ahead,” I say. “Do it.”

  LeVon rolls his eyes. For a minute I think he’s just going to get out of the car. Only the cop is keeping him from doing that. But then he whistles out the window, and another kid comes running up. LeVon takes a paper bag out of his jacket and hands it to the kid.

  “Stash that and be quick,” he says. “And I’m gonna count it, yo. Every single one better be there when I get back.”

  The kid takes the bag and disappears.

  “I hop
e you happy now,” says LeVon. He looks out the rear window. The cop has stopped about fifty feet away. I can’t tell if we’ve attracted his attention or not. I start moving.

  “You take that stuff, or you just sell it, LeVon?” I ask him.

  LeVon laughs.

  “Hell, no,” he says. “I don’t touch that stuff. It’s for suckers. I’m a businessman. I got a plan. I’m gonna retire in a few years. Sit back and live large.”

  “Yeah? You ever think about doing something else with your life? Like doing something noble?”

  “Something what?” says LeVon.

  “Something what?” says Dre at the same time.

  “Noble,” I say. “You know. Selfless. Something to help other people, instead of just yourself. Like your mother, maybe. She’s alone and she’s got no one to take care of her.”

  LeVon laughs again. It’s a loud, unpleasant bark.

  “My mama too wasted to care right now whether she’s alone or not,” he says. “That’s the way it always was. She didn’t take care of me. So why would I take care of her? Besides, it’s too late for me. I’m on the path.”

  “You’re only nineteen years old,” I say.

  “Nineteen in the projects is like ninety in the rest of the world,” says LeVon. “Damn, lady, don’t you know anything at all?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  This has to be the most awkward car ride in the history of car rides. I feel sorry for Dre. I’ve never said a word to him about LeVon. He doesn’t even know I went to see Terrell. I can tell by the way he’s looking at me that I have a lot of explaining to do.

  I’ll tell you later, Dre, I think.

  But I’m going to use this chance all I can. I just happen to have a chicken in the fridge and a box of grits in the cupboard. I can make LeVon some dinner and get him to hang for a while. Maybe play some Xbox with the boys. That will chill him out. It’s the first step.

  Ernest is at my place again, watching Marco. He could just take him back to his place, but he likes hanging out in the house we used to share. The look on his face when the three of us walk through the door is priceless.

  I introduce LeVon to Ernest and then to Marco.

  “You can think of Marco as your brother too, if you want,” I tell LeVon.

  Something in LeVon changes when he meets the little guy. His expression gets softer. I think he likes the idea of having a younger brother.

  I take Ernest in the back room and tell him to go home. He wants to fight about it, but now is not the time.

  “This is too delicate,” I say. “I don’t need you and your attitude messing it up.”

  “What attitude?” he says.

  “The attitude you’re showing me right now. And you’re giving LeVon dirty looks. I know he’s a banger, but we gotta give him a chance.”

  “Oh, sure,” says Ernest. “I’m good enough when you need someone to watch Marco or to keep you safe. But as soon as you don’t need me anymore, you kick me out. I’m not your servant, Linda. You better think about the way you’re acting.”

  He’s right. I have been using him lately. It’s not fair. But I’m not doing it for me.

  “It’s all about Dre,” I say. “That’s really all I’m thinking about right now. But maybe when all this is over, you and I can talk.”

  “Really?” Ernest brightens.

  “Don’t go reading anything into that,” I say. “I said talk. I didn’t say get back together.”

  He nods happily. “Okay,” he says. I can tell he thinks we’re getting back together anyway. I’ll have to straighten him out later. But for now he goes home with no more argument.

  I pop the chicken in the oven. In the living room, the boys have fired up the Xbox. Marco is teaching LeVon how to steal cars on Grand Theft Auto IV. I hate that game, but they begged me so hard to let them buy it that I gave in. I don’t even say a word to them now. I just let them bond over what boys like best, which seems to be violent, mindless entertainment. I can hear Marco’s digital camera go off too. He must be taking pictures. He loves to take pictures of just about everything he can, including LeVon, I guess.

  When dinner is ready, we all sit down at the tiny table. Marco and Dre bow their heads automatically. LeVon looks at them, confused.

  “Thank you, Lord, for another day,” I say. “And thank you for this meal.”

  “And thank you for our new brother LeVon,” says Marco. “And thank you for letting LeVon give Dre a new kidney. Amen.”

  Uh-oh.

  There’s a long silence. Marco must have overheard more than I realized. Dammit, Marco, I think. Can’t slip anything past that kid.

  “Thank you for giving Dre a new what?” LeVon says.

  “Kidney!” says Marco happily.

  LeVon puts down his knife and fork.

  “What he talkin’ about?” he asks me.

  “I…” I’m speechless. “I, uh—”

  “What you need a new kidney for?” LeVon asks Dre.

  Dre looks blameless, but then he didn’t know any of this business about matching blood types or any of that. I kept it all from him. I made sure he couldn’t hear whenever I talked to the doctor. Too bad I didn’t do the same with Marco.

  “I’ve got renal failure,” he says. “I get dialysis. So I need a new kidney, or I’m gonna die.”

  “You’re not gonna die,” I say quickly.

  “That’s not what the doctor said,” says Dre.

  “Yeah, but what’s Marco mean, LeVon giving Dre a kidney?” LeVon says. “’Cause LeVon ain’t giving away no kidneys.”

  I could play this one of two ways. I could say Marco was just talk ing nonsense, making up crazy stories the way little kids do. Or I could tell him the truth. I always try to tell the truth, even when it’s not pretty. I feel like in the long run it’s the best way.

  So I tell LeVon the truth: Dre needs one of his kidneys to live.

  LeVon stands up. He’s so mad he’s shaking.

  “This is sick!” he says. “I feel like I’m in one of them horror movies or something! You just wanted my kidney? You people is crazy, you know that? Damn! Get me outta here before y’all try to eat me or something!”

  Marco is staring at LeVon. Dre is staring at me. LeVon is heading for the door. And I’m sitting with my face in my hands. Because I feel like I have royally screwed up.

  “LeVon,” I say. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Sorry my ass!” LeVon yells. “Stay the hell away from me, lady! Jesus! I had people come after my stash, and I had people come after my money. But ain’t nobody ever come after one of my kidneys before!”

  He slams the door. I can hear him still yelling all the way down the sidewalk.

  My boys are quiet for a moment. Then Marco picks up his drumstick and starts eating his dinner as though nothing has happened.

  “Don’t be mad at me,” I say to Dre. He’s looking at me like he’s disgusted.

  “That was uncool,” he says. “You invited him over just to get his kidney? Damn, Mom. That’s messed up.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” I say, but the truth is, it was like that.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  A month goes by. Then another month. Then a third. Time has slowed down to the speed of an ant walking through syrup. It’s just work, dialysis, wait. Work, dialysis, wait. I take Dre for treatment three times a week. That’s twelve or fifteen hours of sitting and watching his blood run through this machine. Dre hates dialysis. He hates not going to school. He hates everything about his life right now.

  I can understand that. I’m not too happy myself. I’ve been worried about money for so long now that if I won the lottery tomorrow, I would keep worrying just out of habit.

  Every time the phone rings I jump a mile. I’m hoping it’s Dr. Wendell, calling to say they found a donor. But it never is.

  Miss Emily, my client, dies. I’m there with her, holding her hand, when she passes. It’s a beautiful moment. She had a long life. It’s not tragic when someone as old as
her goes. It’s just natural.

  I get a new client. Mr. Varner is fifty and recovering from spinal surgery. He’s grumpy and obnoxious, and he doesn’t like people of color. Every time I go to his house he tells me he’s going to check to make sure I didn’t steal anything. Needless to say, I don’t read to him from Barack Obama’s book. I don’t read to him at all. I go to work and do my job without thinking about it. Sometimes that’s how it is.

  But these hours don’t cut it. I got the skills, but I can’t pay the bills. So I keep looking for more work. No one else is hiring. I could get a minimum-wage job, but by the time I was done paying someone to look after the boys I would be deeper in the hole. This is why people go on welfare. The system makes it so you can’t afford to work.

  I have no choice. I go back to the welfare office. I tell myself it’s not my fault. It’s the economy. After all, I would crawl on my hands and knees over piles of razor blades to help my kids. I’m lucky all I have to do is fill out some forms. And put up with a lot of insulting questions. And surrender my dignity at the door. That’s all there is to it. I’m not one of those who expects a free ride. It’s not my fault there’s no jobs.

  Then one day, the phone does ring. It’s not Dr. Wendell or the hospital. It’s LeVon. I can hardly believe it.

  “Where are you?” I ask.

  “I’m in the joint,” he says. “Been here a little while. I caught a case after I saw you. Got locked up. We need to talk.”

  If LeVon wants me to help him somehow, I will. I feel like it’s the least I could do to make things right. I never felt okay about what happened. He got the wrong idea, but still.

  So I go back to the prison, the same one where I last saw Terrell. I meet LeVon in the same waiting room. Once again I think about how much he looks like his father. And like Dre.

  “What happened, LeVon?” I ask. “How’d you end up here?”

  “Aw, somebody got shot over some drugs,” he says. “I didn’t have nothing to do with it. But they trying to pin it on me. Looks like it’s gonna work too. I’m gonna be here a while.”