Show and Prove (30 page)

I
jiggle my knee as I wait for Cookie to answer the telephone. Why am I so nervous? It's not like I've never called her before. It's just been a while.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Cookie. It's Smiles.”

“Hey…” She sounds surprised to hear from me. “Everything OK?”

“Oh, yeah, everything's chilly most.”

“So…what's up?”

“I came up with an idea.” I switch the phone to my other ear. “And I thought you'd be down with it. A way to make it up to Barb.”

“OK.”

“You know how she never gets to go on any of the trips, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I was thinking this year maybe you and I stay behind and watch the office or do whatever needs doing, you know, so she can go to Coney Island.”

“Smiles…that's a fresh idea.” I notice a difference in Cookie's voice. It's relaxed and deep. She sounds like a woman. “You think she'll trust us?”

“I know Barb. If we go to her together, she'll agree to it. And appreciate it a whole lot, too.”

Cookie says, “We can really hook up the space for the fall. Take inventory, organize the supply closet, throw out junk…”

“Maybe we can paint!”

“We won't have time for that, Smiles, but we'll Spic and Spade the hell out of it!”

I laugh. Cookie can be funny sometimes. “Word. Cooks, can I ask you something? And you won't get mad.”

“Sure. But it depends. Take your chances.”

That is so Cookie. “And you can tell me the truth. I won't judge you or talk behind your back or anything like that. I promise.”

“My God, Smiles, ask already!”

“You and Javi…”

“Not that again.”

“I kind of already know.”

“Know what? That we made out? When he tried to feel me up, I kneed him in the nuts, and that was that.”

“Oh, snap.” I crack up at that. “For real?”

Cookie laughs. “C'mon, Smiles…you know me.”

“I knew all along he was exaggerating.”

“Then why did you act like you believed him?” Her usually shrill voice goes soft and shaky. “Calling me a crab and all that?”

“I don't know. Immature guy stuff. I'm sorry, Cooks.”

“Forget it.” We share a breather. “Now can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Did your mom really die of sickle cell anemia?”

I've been dreading the day when someone would come straight out and ask that. Now the moment is here, and without saying a word, I already feel like I finally dropped a wheelbarrow of bricks that I've been pushing around for too long. The right person asked. “She died of pneumonia, but her doctors are starting to think that maybe it wasn't the sickle cell that made her vulnerable to it, because Mama…she contracted HIV.” I brace myself for a big, uncomfortable reaction, but Cookie is as silent as stone. It's the only response that would have let me continue unloading. “Her hematologist now thinks she may have gotten the virus from one of her transfusions.”

“I'm so sorry, Smiley.” Cookie sounds as if she's holding back tears, and I appreciate her trying to be strong for me. “I'm so, so sorry.”

I start speaking at the speed of light. “And Pop and Nana won't talk about it. They say,
It's just speculation. It was the sickle cell. No one really knows. It was the pneumonia. Don't tell anybody. It wasn't that, OK, so there's nothing to discuss. It doesn't change anything.
And if we can't have a conversation about it in my own family, I'd probably get disowned if they knew I was telling you.” Now I wish I hadn't said anything. I just betrayed my family. Nike was right to question my loyalty. Qusay was right not to hire me. Barb was right not to promote me. The way people vilify people who have AIDS, and my own mother couldn't trust me to protect her good name.

“I'll never tell a soul, Smiley. Who knows how people gossip and judge more than me, right?” says Cookie. “And even though it bothers me in the moment, it never lasts, and you know why? Because eventually I remember what Ms. Netty always used to tell me.” Then, in the worst Jamaican accent ever uttered in the history of the world, she says, “
Time langa den rope.
” I must laugh for a good five minutes. The pounding in my temples and cramp in my belly hurt so good, and I fall off my bed dyin'. Cookie just snickers into the phone and waits until I compose myself. “Anyway, that's just my way of saying that nothing could ever come to light to hurt your mother's reputation, that's all.”

Clutching my aching stomach, I crawl back into my bed. The hard laugh doesn't distract me from the sadness in Cookie's voice. “How's your mom, Cooks?”

“She's good. Not ready for the school year yet,” Cookie chuckles. “Said the summer went way too fast.”

“Word. It did.” Should I ask? “And your dad?”

Cookie sighs. “If you ask him, he's just fine, you know, 'cause now he only drinks on the weekends. But you know the deal, Smiles. He's the same. They call it dry drunk syndrome.”

“Yeah, my mom explained that to me once.” She's revealing all these painful things, yet I feel good. Not that I'm glad Cooks is having problems, I'm just happy she feels she can trust me with them, especially after all the static between us this summer. “I'm sorry about that.”

“Ah, don't be sorry. He just sits there and stares at the TV. Could be worse, right? He's not in a bar getting into fights or whaling on us or anything like that, the way some dudes do.” Even over the phone, I sense the force behind Cookie's chuckle. “And how's your dad, Smiley?”

“Pop's good.”

“Cool. And Nana?”

I smile at the way Cookie refers to my grandmother as Nana. “Nana's no joke. She's gonna outlive all of us.”

“Right? I have to come by and see her.”

“She'd like that. Nana and Pops, they always asking,
How's Carolina?
”

“Really?”

“For real.”

We're both quiet for a moment, and funny that it feels normal. Cooks and I could always just chill. That's how our friendship was different from the one I had with Nike. When we went to a movie or watched TV, he was always so restless, but Cookie and I could do homework together, ride the subway reading our own books, and even watch a ball game on TV, quiet and cozy.

Then Cookie says, “I don't know why I've never told you this before…I mean, it's not like it's bad or anything…. Whenever I go to Woodlawn to visit my abuelita and bring her fresh flowers, I stop by your mom's grave and leave her some, too.” The ache in my heart has a twin in her voice. “Not for nothing, Smiles, you know I love my mom to death…. ”

“I know, Cooks.”

“She's a good person.”

“Your mom's real good people.”

“But your mom, Smiley? She was just…When my dad was really bad, and my mother could barely cope herself, never mind be there for me, Ms. Netty helped me so much.” Cookie's voice breaks, and she stops to sniffle. “I love my mom with all my heart, but it's your mom I wanna be like when I grow up.”

“You will, Cooks. I can already see it.” Even though my voice gives away that I'm crying, it's cool. After all, she's my oldest friend. “You will.”

A
yo, Nike!

Nikeee!

Nike, oh, Nike, wherefore art thou, Nike?

That sucka's wherefore art upstairs, that's where. Yo, Nike, why don't you come down here and face me like a man, homeboy?

For the past fifteen minutes, I've been acting like I don't hear Junior and his court jesters taunting me. Gloria busts into my room and bum-rushes the window. “Get lost.”

But Glo looks worried. She stands off to the side, peeking through the
Star Wars
curtains. “What you gonna do, Willie?”

“Find out if Archie chooses Betty or Veronica,” I say, rolling onto my side toward the wall. I already know that this time Archie chooses sweet Betty over conniving Veronica, even though I've been stuck on the same page ever since those clowns showed up under my window. If I had made the same choice, I might not be in this wack situation. “
Get
away from the window already!” The last thing I need is for any Barbarians to see the
Millennium Falcon
s on my curtains. The second they're gone, I'm taking down those damn things.
Niiikeee…come out and plaaay!
I make out five different cackles, although I'm sure there's a full crowd in front of my building by now.

Gloria makes a beeline toward my door. “I'm calling Vanessa,” she says.

“What the hell for?” I shoot up in bed. “She's the reason he's down there.”

My sister runs out of my room. “That's why she's the one who has to put her stupid brother in check.”

I chase Gloria into the hallway. I can't have my little sister fight my battles, but Gloria has grabbed the telephone and locked herself in the bathroom. “Gloria, you're making things worse!” I bang on the door.

“Can I speak to Vanessa?…Yo, why you send your brother over here to pop shit with Willie? Don't deny it. My brother quit you, get over it!”

I pound on the bathroom door. “Gloria, stop!”

“I swear to God, Vanessa, if you don't put Junior in check, I'm not going to be your friend anymore. And if I'm not your friend, you can forget about Judy and Monique and them being your friends, too.”

“Gloria!”

My mother tears out of the living room into the hallway. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave your sister alone?”

“I didn't do anything!”

Ma pushes me aside, grabs the doorknob, and rattles it. “Gloria, I'm going to count to three, and if you're not off the phone and out of this bathroom…”

“You don't got no one to blame but yourself,” Gloria tells Vanessa. “What I tell you?
My brother's a playboy!
But you ain't wanna listen.”

“One…”

“And it ain't like you the Virgin Mary either, so stop playing the role.”

“Two…”

“Let me tell you something, Vanessa. Stop sending Junior and his boys to jump Willie. If my brother gets beat down, I'ma kick your butt good for you. Y'all don't scare me.” My mother doesn't even say
three.
She grabs the telephone cord and yanks it out of the jack “You hear me, Vanessa? Vanessa? Hello? What happened to the phone?”

“Ma broke it 'cause you wouldn't get out the damn bathroom!”

“I did not break the phone, I only disconnected it.” Then she growls into the bathroom door, “Gloria Marie Vega, if you do not come out of the bathroom this second, you will not leave this apartment until school starts.” Two seconds later, Gloria opens the door. “Give me the phone now.” My sister hands Ma the phone. Ma wraps the cord around the receiver and tucks it under her arm. “You kids think that because I don't say anything, I don't know what's going on, but I know everything.” She makes her way to the door, grabbing her pocketbook off the table. “I'm putting an end to this right now!”

“Ma, where you going?”

“Mommy!” Phone still under her arm and keys in fist, my mother makes her way out the apartment and toward the stairwell. “Oh, my God, Willie, she's going outside to tell off Junior.” In her bare feet, my sister takes off after her.

“Oh, shit!” I run into my bedroom and scramble around looking for my socks and sneakers, because I can't throw down in chancl'as. Whatever beef I may have with her, that's my mother, and nobody is going to disrespect her. Nobody.

When I get outside, everyone on the block is surrounding my mother and Junior. “My son don't want your sister anymore, OK? Punto final. Just leave Willie alone already y todos los Melendez que se vayan pa' carajo!”

Vanessa rushes into the crowd just in time to hear my mother send her entire family to hell. Ma moves toward her, fixing to repeat the message, but Junior steps between her and his sister. “You females stay out of this and let me talk to Nike, man to man.”

“If you want to talk to him, man to man, then why you bring these entrometi'os to yell things at his window?”

My guts jerk every time Ma emphasizes a point by jabbing her finger inches away from Junior's face. I keep waiting for him to warn her to knock it off, but he takes it like it's nothing. “I just wanna talk to your son,” he calmly repeats. “Tha's all.”

“You walk around here like you're Mr. Mucho Macho, but I've seen how you do. My son gets up early and goes to work. He comes home, he hangs out with his friends, talks on the phone with his girlfriend. Willie minds his own business. All you do is stand across the street and do your dirt, ruining families vendiendo drogas.”

The Professor yells,
Oooh!
and some of the younger kids join him.

“No disrespect, Doña Alicia,” says Junior, his voice getting thinner by the word. “But this here is between your son and me, because he's been doggin' my sister. Good boy, my ass. You ain't got nothing to say about that?”

I wish the sidewalk would crack open and swallow me whole. But then the word on the street would be
not only does Nike get his mother to fight his battles, he leaves her flat.
I don't know what else to do except first get my mother to leave. I grab at her housecoat and say, “Forget it, Ma.”

She swats my hand off of her. “You want to fight my son?” Damn, who does my mother think she is? Cus D'Amato? “You fight my son fair and square. One on one. Like a man.” More
Oooh!
and
Dis!
from the crowd. “Don't send your little spies across the street to pretend to be his friend and trick him into saying bad things about you behind your back so you can come over here and start something.” Ma gives Javi a dirty look. I had no idea she was hip to his double-agent ways! All this hood I never knew she had in her is on display, and it'd be kind of cool, if I weren't the reason.

Then Gloria puts in her two cents. “This is between my brother and your sister anyways, so why don't you just mind your business, Junior?”

“Yo, my sister is my business!” yells Junior, taking a step forward.

My instinct takes over, and I step in front of him. “And my sister's my business, so don't even think about jumping bad with her. You want to talk to me? Here I am.”

Pooh hollers, “ 'Bout time, nigga!”

“I've always been here,” I say to him. Then I tell Junior, “What is it that you think I did to your sister?”

“Stop playin' stupid.” He gets into my face. “You know what you did.”

I take a step back. “First of all, don't be gettin' all up in my face, B. You need some Certs, a Tic Tac, or something.” I'm as loud as I am scared, but I can't let him pop shit in front of all these people. Otherwise it'll be open season on Nike until I move or die.

“Oh, you want to snap?” Junior steps back into my face again.

“I'm just sayin'.” Man, I'm glad that my throat isn't quivering like my knees. “Stop playin' me close.”

“You the one who need to stop playin'. You got your mama out here talkin' 'bout the dirt I do. What about the dirt you doin' my sister?”

“I ain't even going out with your sister no more!” Now I'm really mad, and I don't care what happens. Everybody knows Vanessa will go all the way with any dude who spends a little money on her, and I know for a fact that's she gone out with more than one dude at a time, too. I'm just one record in her jukebox. The worst thing I did to Vanessa was love her and leave her before she played me. “I been quit your crab of a sister.”

“Nigga, I'll…” Junior takes another step closer, and this time, instead of backing up, I meet him halfway. Now we're nose to nose. This is it.

That's when my crazy mother pulls an ice pick out of her pocketbook. “¡Mátalo, Willie!” she screams while trying to press the pick into my hand. “¡Mátalo!” Folks yell,
Oh, shit!
and start to back up.

“Ma, are you crazy!” Kill him?
She's
killing
me!
I swear to God, I'ma die of embarrassment right here.

“Junior, you promised me!” Vanessa finally steps in between Junior and me. “You just made everything worse. Take a chill pill.”

“All you people leave my son alone!” Ma screams, waving the ice pick as my sister pulls her back inside the building. “You mess with my kids, you answer to me!”

Vanessa says, “I told you I wanted to talk to Nike in private.”

I suck my teeth crazy loud at that one. Vanessa knows her brother. She blabbed all our business precisely because she wanted him to create a scene.

Junior says, “Yo, I'm tired of putting up for you, Nessa. You be runnin' these streets like a little sucia and then gonna whine when niggas disrespect you. What I told you when he first started rappin' to you?” Vanessa just stares at her jelly sandals. “I said stay away from Nike 'cause he a dog, right?” The crowd that's left oohs, and I wish I had a dollar for every time someone called me that. It'd be better than winning Zingo. “And did you listen to me? No! You went and spread ya legs for him and now you wanna come cryin' to me about how he played you dirty.” The crowd uh-huhs. “You know what?” Junior swipes his palms across each other. “Se 'cabó. I'm not sticking up for you no more. The next time some dog plays you or some female out here calls you a ho, I'ma say shit.” He motions for the Barbarians to follow him.

The crowd is still crowing
Damn!
and
Word!
as they break out, too, and I suddenly feel sorry for Vanessa. Her own brother just dismissed her in front of the entire block. It's one thing for Junior to accept the way she be carrying herself and decide he can't do nothing about it. But to come down on her like that for everyone to hear? He might as well have stuck a
KICK ME
sign on Vanessa's back. What a punk. Gonna put an innocent man in the ground but leave his own sister defenseless. Glo works my last nerve, and I sure be going off on her behind closed doors, but no matter what my sister says or does, I'm not gonna give the block permission to dis her like that. Just like when push came to shove, she ultimately sided with me. My mother, too. If you can't count on your family for backup, you don't got nobody.

I don't have everything I want, but at least I got them.

“C'mon,” I say as I reach for Vanessa's hand. When our fingers touch, she starts crying a flood like I pressed a button to make the tears flow. “Let's go to our spot.”

We walk across the street and into an alley between the buildings. As we cross, I look over my shoulder to shoot a nasty look at any averigua'os even thinking about shadowing us. It feels odd to be in our alley with her again. Vanessa and I have been here a hundred times, sometimes to make out, sometimes to fight, but always alone and together. This is the first time we've been here since we broke up, and now I realize how dark, narrow, and smelly it is. I can hardly breathe and want out ASAP. “So what's up?”

“The reason why my brother was so mad at you is because he thought you got me pregnant and broke out.” I hold my breath. “I'm not. You can chill.”