The Girl of His Dreams (26 page)

“A
www, damn,” Pops says, standin' at the foot of my bed, shakin' his head. “I knew somethin' had'a be serious when the school called 'n' said you been absent for
four
days 'n' you didn't answer ya phone when I was callin' you. I thought you was in here dead. Look at you. I knew somethin' like this was gonna eventually happen. I told you what happens when you open up ya heart . . .”

I open my eyes.

Stare at him.

I haven't left the crib in four and a half days. I haven't bathed. I haven't eaten. I haven't done jack 'cept lie in bed, playin' this Lenny Williams joint over and over and over. I thought listenin' to Trey Songz would do it for me. Thought maybe I could drown my sorrows listenin' to Ja-heim. But, nah . . . “'Cause I Love You” says how I feel. It speaks what's in my head. It screams what's in my heart. I'm all effed up, yo. I know e'ery word to the song. Feel e'ery inch of his pain. My whole body aches. I'm sick. I haven't felt this effed up since I was six years old—when my moms bounced. For the first time in my life, I trusted myself enough to trust someone else, somethin' I didn't think I'd ever be able to do. Miesha did that to me. Made it easy to talk. Made it easy for me to trust—
her
. And now she's gone!

She won't even talk to me. She stopped takin' my calls, stopped talkin' to me, stopped wantin' me. I can't even call her now 'cause her number's changed. “Stay the HELL away from me!” That's what she tol' me the last time I walked up on her at her locker, tryna get her to just listen to me, to let me explain. I begged her.
Me,
yo! Beggin' a girl to talk to me. That's not what I do. That's not who I am. Or who I was. But, in that effen moment, that's who I became. Desperate. All needy 'n' shit.

I still am.

And the crazy thing is, I don't feel like a punk, or weak. I feel effed up. I feel lonely, like before. When my moms left 'n' didn't come back. And like then... I'm desperate. I'm sad.

I'm desperate to hear her voice. See her face. Hold her in my arms.

I am connected to her, yo. When I'm wit' her, when I
was
wit' her... I didn't feel empty, like I did wit' all them other females. I smashed them broads 'cause I could. I didn't wanna be tied to any of 'em 'cause I when I looked in their eyes, I couldn't see anything other than sex. That's all I wanted from them. That's all they were good for.

But Miesha . . . she's different. Special.

E'erything 'bout her—her slick mouth, the way she smiles, her walk, the way she dresses 'n' doesn't care 'bout what other peeps think 'bout her, the way she looks at me, the way she feels in my arms, the way she makes me feel—is perfect . . . for
me
!

I want her back, yo. I need her back. I want another chance. Nah, I
need
another chance. But she ain't beat.

“It's over between us! I don't ever wanna talk to you, again! I
hate
you! You're just like all the rest of the boys, no-effen-good! Just stay outta my life!”

Those were her words to me. And they cut me inside-out.

The one time when I'm not gassin' a girl's head up, or tryna do her best friend, or press up on her older sister—the one time I'm bein' straight-up, puttin' e'erything on the line, I get dumped over some BS, for somethin' that I wasn't even doin'. I never get dumped! I don't get dismissed! But Miesha dismissed me. Told me I was invisible to her. That nothin' I said mattered to her.

And now I have all'a these emotions, all'a these thoughts, swirlin' 'round in me. It's like a switch clicked on 'n' now I can't stop thinkin'. Can't stop wonderin'. About my moms. About Miesha.

Why
my moms bounced on me.

Why
she didn't want me.

Why
Miesha won't talk to me.

Why
she can't believe me.

Why, why, why
. . . over and over, I play the ish in my head. I tried to forget 'bout my moms. I can't forget 'bout Miesha. I don't wanna forget 'bout her. But I don't know what else I can do.

“What's her name?”

I blink.

Pops is now standin' on the side of the bed lookin' down at me. “You gotta snap outta this, you hear me? You lyin' 'round lookin' all pitiful, feelin' sorry for ya'self ain't gonna bring her back. This ain't what a man does. She's gone. Let her go. . . .”

“There's too many other woman out there for you to be lyin' up in here wit' the shades down, playin' depressin' music. . . .”

“Listen, son, you gotta get ya mind right. You gotta get up 'n' handle ya business, you hear me? Call up one'a them other lil girls you got sniffin' behind you. Let them help you get over her. . . .”

“How many times I tell you, keep you a string of women on your team? How many times I tell you, they can't be trusted wit' ya heart, huh? You get 'em in ya bed. You don't let 'em get up in ya head.”

I know what he's beat me in the head wit' since I was six years old. I know some girls can't be trusted. But I don't wanna believe all can't be. Miesha
can
be. And I wanna believe, I gotta believe, that there are more girls like her. Yeah, I know what Pops tol' me. But I'm old enough to make my own decisions. And I don't gotta believe him. I don't gotta think his way is the right way for me.

“I'm not you,” I push out. “Why I gotta be angry 'cause you are?”

“What?”

I look up at Pops. “Why'd
she
leave me?”

He shakes his head. “That's what women do when they don't want you. They leave.”

I keep my eyes on him. They burn from holdin' back tears. “But I was her kid.”

He kinda looks at me, and now he gets it. He blinks. Rubs his hands over his head. “I thought we promised never to mention her again.”

“No, Pops. You did. You tol' me that's what we were gonna do. And I haven't. But now I am. I wanna know. Why?”

He sighs. “Damn. I hoped we would never hafta have this conversation.” He starts pacin' the room. He stops 'n' looks at me. “I loved ya moms, son. But I loved the streets 'n' the pretty women more. She got fed up 'n' wanted to leave me. I tol' her she could go, but she couldn't take you. Not my firstborn son. I tol' her I would hunt her down 'n' kill 'er if she did. . . . She knew the kinda man I was in the streets. She knew that violent side of me. And believed me.”

I blink.

He hangs his head. “It hurt me that she wanted to leave me. And it hurt even more when she tol' me she had met someone else. I tol' her I wasn't lettin' another man raise my son. Tol' her if she ever came near us again, I'd put a bullet in her head. . . .”

I blink. E'erything comes back to me. My mom's face, her smile, the tears in her eyes, all pop into my head. “Why are you cryin', Mommy?”

“Because Mommy loves you so much.”

“I love you too, Mommy.”

“Listen, sweetheart. Mommy has to go away for a while, sweetie? But I promise I'm gonna come back for you real soon, okay?”

“Don't leave, Mommy.”

“Honey, I have to. Only for a while.” I remember now... noddin' my head, 'n' her leanin' in 'n' kissin' me on the forehead. “Mommy's gonna come back for you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. Now promise me you'll be a good boy for Mommy. You'll do good in school and make Mommy real proud, promise?”

“I promise, Mommy.”

She kissed me, again. Waited for me to fall asleep. And then . . . she was gone

I swallow back a ball of emotions. “So all this time you effen had me thinkin' she didn't want me, yo? You had me thinkin' she didn't love me! Pops, do you know what that did to me, yo?” I shake my head. “I can't believe this.
You
did this to me, yo. Effed my head all up. Got me thinkin' I gotta dog girls out. You brainwashed me. Why, huh?”

“I'm sorry, son.”

I frown. “ ‘I'm sorry'? Is that all you gotta say?”

He tells me he doesn't know what else to say. Word? He tells me he didn't wanna see me hurt. Really?

“And you didn't think tellin' me that crap 'bout her not wantin' me was gonna hurt, huh? You made her out to be the bad guy. Made you look like you were there to save the day. That was real foul, for real for real. You're all I've ever had in my life, Pops. And I've always looked up to you, yo. But this...” I shake my head. “This is some straight-up bullshit, yo. E'erything I've believed has been 'cause it's what you believed, yo. And you wanna know why I believed it? 'Cause I believed in you! I trusted you!

“And now look at me. All screwed up 'cause of you! All that crap 'bout women bein' no good, all that did was make
me
be no good. Like
you,
Pops!” I say all'a this to my pops and he stands there 'n' lets me get it off. He ain't tryna flex on me, ain't tryna shut it down. He lets me get it out, prolly 'cause he feels guilty. I don't know. All I know, he really effed me up wit' this.

“I thought I was protectin' you,” he says.

I stare at him. I can feel the muscles in my jaw tight-enin'. “Nah, you
thought
you was protectin' ya'self. I trusted you.” I shake my head. “I don't even know what to think anymore. If I can't trust you, then who can I trust?”

“Listen, Tone. I know I screwed up. I didn't wanna hurt you. But I was hurtin'. When ya moms tol' me she didn't love me anymore, that she was in love wit' someone else, that tore me up. I lied to you because I wanted you to hate her as much as I hated myself for losin' her. I knew it was wrong, but once I said it, I didn't know how to undo it. A few months after ya moms left, I tried lookin' for her, but she was gone. Her sister, ya aunt Christina, wouldn't give me her contact info. The last I heard she was somewhere on the West Coast. Hol' on a sec. . . .” Pops walks outta my room.

My aunt Christina?
I try to remember who she is, try to picture her face. But it's all a blank. I don't remember anything 'bout her. All I know—from what Pops tells me—is that she's my moms' only sister. She was the only livin' link to my moms—since my moms' parents died when I was mad young—and Pops took that away from me. All 'cause he didn't want me to have any kinda relationship wit' my moms 'cause he couldn't have one wit' her. I can feel my heart poundin' through my chest. She's a piece of a puzzle that opens up more questions for me. Questions that I am hopin' she'll be able to one day answer.

Pops comes back into the room, carryin' a shoebox. “I've been holdin' on to this,” he says, handin' it to me. “I know it can't undo what I've done, but maybe it'll help.”

I look at Pops, mad nervous—my hands all shaky 'n' ish. I open the box 'n' inside there's a buncha pics of me 'n' Pops 'n' my . . . moms. There's one wit' her holdin' me in her arms when I was mad little. There's another of her breast-feedin' me. Another wit' her 'n' Pops. He has his hand on her stomach. Her stomach's mad big like she's ready to pop. Seein' these pictures of my moms, I don't know. I feel all kinda choked up. “I miss her, yo,” I say real low, lettin' a tear slide down my face.

“I miss her, too,” Pops says, soundin' all sad. “I still love her. I shoulda never let her get away from me. I shoulda been a better husband to her. I pushed her into another man's arms, son.” He shakes his head. “I haven't been able to forgive myself for that. I know I've disappointed you, Antonio. There's a card on the bottom off all those pictures. On the back of it, there's an address for ya aunt Chrissy in the Bronx. It's over ten years old, but maybe . . .” He wipes his eyes. Oh, damn. Pops got tears in his eyes. “Aaah, damn.” Turns from me for a few secs, turns back, then continues, “Maybe she's still there or someone else in the family is. Maybe they can help you get in contact wit' ya moms. . . . It's time.”

I sift through all the photos 'til I locate the card he's talkin' 'bout. It's a postcard of Las Vegas. On the back is an address in the Bronx.

“I'm sorry, son. I know that won't be enough for me to right the wrong, but hopefully it's a start. Hopefully, you won't hate me as much for lyin' to you all these years.”

I swallow back the lump I feel formin' in my throat, starin' at my moms' face in one'a the pictures. Her brown skin, big brown eyes, her thick hair pulled back, her wide smile. She was beautiful. I hold my head down for a minute, shut my eyes real tight 'n' try to keep from breakin' down. All'a this is too much for me. Losin' Miesha, but gainin' memories of my moms.

I look up at Pops. “I'm pissed at you. But I don't hate you, Pops. I could never hate you. I just don't wanna be another you.”

“Then don't be. Ya moms was one'a the good girls, son. She was a good woman who got caught up wit' a man who turned her heart cold. I pushed her away with my running the streets and chasing other women. I don't want you to be me. It's not too late for you to be a better man than I could ever be. Listen to ya heart, son. If you love that girl, then fight for her. Go get her.”