Decision Time (3 page)

WESLEY

I opened
my eyes once again and my mind was much clearer than it had been earlier. I shifted my position on the lumpy hospital bed and glanced out the window. Nightfall had arrived. I rotated my head in the other direction and looked at the digital clock on the wall, which read 6:00 p.m. My father was asleep in the other patient bed. A black bible rested on his chest, which I knew belonged to my grandmother. She'd probably told him to pray for me. I laughed a little on the inside at the silliness of it, but then again, a sense of love and care blanketed me, knowing my father was the type of man who would get on his knees and pray. I was about to see how much mobility I had, but thought twice about making any sudden or dumb moves that would cause me pain or do further damage.

“Damn. Now I'll have to learn how to do everything with my left hand—brush my teeth, comb my hair, eat my
food and even wipe my behind.” I released a depressing sigh. I was in no way looking forward to the experience of teaching my left hand how to do all of the things my right hand did. I decided to lightly touch my shoulder where I'd been wounded. My shoulder felt numb. I attributed the lifelessness to the medication I was on.

A moment later, my thoughts drifted to my girlfriend, Keysha. Guilt plagued me and I knew she would be upset that I was in the hospital. She would be especially angry over the circumstances that landed me here. I didn't want to communicate that fact to her yet, and my grandmother Lorraine told me she would speak to Keysha. I vowed to call her once I was feeling stronger.

“Wow,” I whispered softly. “How did my life get so far out of hand?” I closed my eyes for a moment and the name Lori popped into my mind.

“Why did I even get involved with her?” I asked myself as the memory of what had taken place began to come back to me.

 

Grandmother Lorraine's neighbor and good friend Miss Winston lived with her adult daughter and teenaged granddaughter, Lori. Lori was a junior just like me and attended the local high school I'd be going to until my house back in Illinois was renovated. Apparently, Grandmother Lorraine and Miss Winston thought it would be a good idea for Lori and I to meet. Then without any warning, Grandmother Lorraine invited the two of them over one afternoon. When they arrived, I was in my bedroom in the basement, chatting it up on the phone with
Keysha. My grandmother summoned me from the top of the staircase.

“Wesley, come up here,” she called.

“I'm on the phone,” I answered, irritated by the interruption of my conversation with Keysha.

“Boy, get off the phone and get your tail up here! When I call, you need to come running.” Grandmother Lorraine was a little too old-school for me. She had this hang-up about respecting everything she said and honoring all of her requests, no matter how trivial they were. I reluctantly ended my phone call with Keysha and walked up the stairs to see why she was acting as if her hair was on fire.

“What do you want?” I asked, utterly frustrated. I figured Grandmother Lorraine was going to have me do some insignificant task like twist the lid off a jar or walk out to her car to retrieve an item she'd inadvertently left on the car seat. Ever since my dad and I arrived, I got the sense Grandmother Lorraine planned to use me as free labor. I couldn't wait for the contractors to finish rebuilding our home, which had been damaged from an electrical fire. It would be great to be back home, not worrying about stupid rules.

“Come on and follow me in here to the family room. I've invited some company over,” she informed me. As I trailed behind her I marveled at how tall she was. Grandmother Lorraine stood no fewer than five feet ten inches. From what I understand of my family history, her father, a man named Bud, stood six feet six inches tall. He was a massive man who made a living as a bootlegger during the era of prohibition, when alcohol was illegal. From
mythical stories I'd heard about Bud, he was the type of man who didn't take any mess off of anyone. Legend has it that his fuse was so short he once shot a man in the foot because he'd accidentally tripped up a set of stairs and broke several bottles of alcohol he was carrying for my great-grandfather. I believe Grandmother Lorraine inherited elements of Bud's no-nonsense personality. She was a feisty and bossy woman who could get on your nerves really quickly if you allowed her to get under your skin.

“I don't feel like meeting anyone,” I huffed because I thought for sure she was about to parade me around in front of her elderly acquaintances.

“I didn't ask what you felt like doing.” She stopped, turned toward me and snapped her fingers. “Now get that frown off of your face before I give you a left hook.” I gave her a condescending look and thought,
Yeah right. You'll swing and miss, and I'll fall out of the floor laughing
. I gave her a sly grin when she turned, and I followed her into the living room, where the visitors were waiting. The living room was in need of a major overhaul. The sofa and love seat were red and white and covered with plastic. I swear, she must've gotten liquored up and gone out to a Valentine's Day door-buster furniture sale where she spent all of her cash. The furniture was old when my father was a teenager, which meant now it was ancient and needed to be donated to a museum. It was amazing that after all the years that had come to pass, the furniture was still sturdy enough to sit down on. On the wall above the sofa were framed photos of Jesus, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and President John F. Kennedy. She had recently added a
formal photo of President Barack Obama to the lineup, as well. On another wall was a collection of family photos, one of which was of me as a toddler.

“Hello,” I greeted the elderly woman and the young lady.

“This is Miss Winston and her granddaughter, Lori. They're my neighbors,” Grandmother Lorraine announced.

“Nice to meet you,” I cordially addressed them while concurrently making eye contact.

“Have a seat right over there and visit with us for a moment.” Grandmother Lorraine directed me to an empty seat. I sat down across from Lori and instantly sensed she'd been forced into this awkward visit just as I had been.

“I'm not looking for a girlfriend,” I whispered to Lori.

“That's good. Because I'm not looking for a boyfriend,” she fired back, releasing a loud sigh and frowning.

“Lori, watch your manners!” Miss Winston seemed appalled by Lori's rudeness. Lori huffed indignantly and seemed to care less about anything her grandmother had to say.

Miss Winston slowly turned her head away from Lori and focused her attention on Grandmother Lorraine. “I don't know what's wrong with these children today, Lorraine. They just don't have any respect whatsoever.”

“That's why I'm glad my son and grandson are here with me. The instant my son began having trouble with his ex-wife, I told him to send Wesley to me so I could attend to him while he straightened out his affairs. I would've gotten Wesley in church and would've taught him how to be a good and respectful Christian. If Wesley had come to live with me for a while he would've never
gotten into so much trouble.” Grandmother Lorraine spoke about me as if I weren't in the room. I gawked at her with a puzzled expression because no one ever mentioned to me that she wanted to take me in. Not that I would've wanted to come, especially since she had such a strict and stern hand.

“Wesley, wipe the ridiculous look off your face. If you open your mouth any wider it's going to fall onto the floor,” Grandmother Lorraine admonished. I exhaled loudly out of agitation. “Good, I wanted you to meet Lori. Since the two of you will be going to the same high school, I thought she could help you find your way around.” Grandmother Lorraine was suddenly smiling at Lori and me.

“Yes, I think it's an excellent idea if both of you would take some time here today and get acquainted with each other.” Both of our grandmothers smiled in our direction as if they had some ulterior motive other than what they were saying. There was a long pause before Grandmother Lorraine suggested to Miss Winston that they grab a cup of coffee in the kitchen. As soon as they exited the room Lori began acting crabby.

“Ooh, that old woman drives me crazy!” Lori grumbled.

“Why? What did she do?” I asked as I curiously studied Lori. She had a cute, oval-shaped face, brown-sugar skin and braided hair. Her thick, black eyebrows gave her a unique and distinguished look, although I could tell it was most certainly time for her to go and get them waxed since there were a lot of fine hairs growing around them. She had a sexy, slender body that teetered on the edge of being
too skinny. Her full, succulent lips and small perky breasts added to her attractiveness. Over all she wasn't a bad-looking girl.

“She's being meddlesome and nosy. That old woman keeps trying to control me and everything I do and I'm sick and tired of it!” Lori sprang to her feet and walked over to a window. She pulled back the drapes and glanced outside.

“Listen, Wilson,” she said in a frustrated tone.

“Who in the world is Wilson?” I asked.

“That's your name, isn't it?”

“My name isn't Wilson, it's Wesley,” I corrected her.

“Whatever.” She glanced back out of the window. I'd had just about enough of her and was about to go back downstairs to call Keysha back.

“I'm sorry I got your name wrong. I'm just dealing with a lot of issues right now,” she explained in a contrite tone.

“Aren't we all?” I agreed and decided to hold off on leaving her alone since she seemed to have calmed down.

“It's not that hard to figure out how to get around the school. You can read signs posted on a wall, can't you?” Lori asked sarcastically.

“Yes, I can read. I'm not stupid,” I shot back at her.

“I never said you were,” she quickly answered with a patronizing tone.

“Did I do something wrong? I haven't known you five minutes, but I feel as if we're fighting,” I asked, trying to understand why there seemed to be tension between us.

“I don't know, did you do something wrong? I mean, for all I know the FBI could be looking for you at this very
moment.” Lori opened her purse and removed a stick of chewing gum. She paused then captured my gaze. “Do you want a stick?” she offered.

“No,” I answered. “And the FBI doesn't even know my name.”

“Well, that's a good thing.” She hesitated as she sat back down. “So what classes do you have?”

“Do you really care or are you just asking to make conversation?” I wanted clarification; I was having a difficult time communicating with her.

“If I didn't want to know I wouldn't have asked you.” Lori placed the stick of chewing gum in her mouth.

“I don't know what classes I have yet. I have to go up to the school tomorrow and register,” I explained as plainly as possible.

“Well, whatever you do, don't let them stick you in any of Mr. Alexander's social studies classes. I had him last semester and he's a real jerk and he loads you up with homework. That guy doesn't have a life. In fact all of the teachers there don't really have a life. It's really tragic when you think about it.” Lori reached into her purse once again and removed her cell phone, which was buzzing. I watched her press several buttons and read the text message she'd just received.

“I swear this boy is driving me up a wall.” She stuffed her phone back into her purse.

“Got troubles with your man?” I asked mockingly.

“Nothing I can't handle. He's just a little possessive—likes to know my every move, which at first I thought was kind of cute, but now it's just annoying as hell. He follows
me around like some crazed stalker on Twitter trying to hook up with a celebrity.”

“Sounds like your boyfriend is a real control freak,” I affirmed, wanting to pry into her romantic life just out of curiosity. “What else has he done?”

“So who are you? A graduate of the Dr. Phil University of getting into other people's business?” Lori turned snippy in the blink of an eye. I could tell she was the type of person who blurted whatever was on her mind before she placed any thought into how she'd be perceived.

“I don't even watch Dr. Phil, but if dude doesn't like to give you space to breathe, that could spell trouble for your relationship,” I answered, genuinely trying to help her. Lori didn't confirm or deny my doubts about the stability of her romantic life. Instead she twisted the conversation around and began asking me questions.

“So what's your story? Where are you from?” she asked.

“Illinois. I live in a suburb called South Holland,” I answered.

“Really?” Her mood seemed to change instantaneously.

“Yes, really.” I wondered why her attitude had once again done a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn.

“My dad lives there. I spend the summer months in South Holland,” she said, using a friendlier tone. “You ever hang out at River Oaks Mall or go to the Tricked Out nightclub?” Lori asked as she draped one leg over the other.

“Yeah, I've hung out at both of those places. I used to live at the night club,” I admitted.

“You know, now that I'm looking at you, your face seems familiar.” Lori's unyielding stare made me feel awkward.

“You've probably seen me around the neighborhood or just hanging out at Mr. Submarine or something. So will you be going to see your dad this summer?” I asked.

“Yes, I will. Then I'll have to deal with all of his rules. God, I hate rules. There should be a new law banning them,” Lori whined as she once again opened her purse, removed a compact mirror and began fussing with her hair.

“Well, if that happened our society would become very chaotic,” I pointed out.

“So what are you? The social conscience of America now?”

“Boy, you're really a feisty one, aren't you?” I asked, releasing a phony laugh.