So You Call Yourself a Man (16 page)

As I headed up the walkway to my home, I tried to prolong my confession just a little longer by taking slow, tiny steps. By the time I reached the door, my hands were shaking and I had to fight not to lose the contents of my stomach all over the steps. I put my hand on the doorknob, but before I could turn it, the door flew open.

There was Cathy, fury on her face. I looked down and had to grab the railing to steady myself when my knees gave out. In one hand she held a suitcase, and standing beside her, action figures still in his hand, was Marcus.

I drove down South Road, headed toward the projects, and tried my best not to show any fear. The last thing you can do in the hood is act like you're afraid. Fortunately, I'd grown up in South Jamaica so I knew a little about how to handle myself, but things were different back then. People just got drunk on the weekends, and when dudes fought, they battled with their fists or maybe a knife. Nowadays, everyone was packing hardware, so you never knew when you might get caught up in some shit.

Wearily, my eyes scanned the street. I'd never seen more drug dealers, ten-year-old lookouts, and crackheads in one area in my life, all going about their business like five-oh didn't exist. I guess I must've looked like new money pulling into the neighborhood, because all eyes were on me as I headed to my destination.

My cousin Leroy, better known as Lowjack, was a master thief in his own right, and still lived in my old building. I was headed to his place because I knew Lowjack was just the man to help me carry out my little scheme. The only problem was that showing up unannounced could be detrimental to my health. Lowjack was always up to some unlawful shit. I usually stayed away from him for that reason, but this day, I could care less about what he was up to. I only hoped he'd agree to what I was about to ask him to do.

After I parked my car, I reached into my glove compartment and took out an empty mayonnaise jar with holes nailed into the tin top. As I headed to Lowjack's apartment, I looked down at the empty jar and thought of how I was only moments away from having the crucial elements to making my plan a success. I rushed into the building, stepping over a couple of winos and baseheads passed out in the hallway. Before reaching the fourth floor, I endured the smell of piss, body odors, and soiled Pampers, strong enough reasons to make me want to turn back before losing everything I'd eaten. But I remained focus on what I came for.

Once I made it to Lowjack's door, I paused before knocking. It had been a while since we saw each other, and there was still the possibility that he'd tell me he wouldn't be able to help me. I also knew that I'd never know unless I tried, so I knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” a gruff voice called out.

“Sonny.”

“Sonny who?”

“Your cousin Sonny, fool. Open the door.”

“Sonny! Oh, shit, what up, nigga?” Suddenly the door opened.

It must have been my work clothes, because Lowjack looked me up and down like I was the police. Then he stepped outside the door to look down the hallway. He finally let me in after he was satisfied no one else was with me. I'd always known him to be a paranoid brother, but when he started to frisk me, I started to get worried that maybe I shouldn't even be in that apartment. My suspicion was that my cousin was back to boosting again, something that was confirmed when I entered his apartment to see, amongst the filth, more stereos, TVs, DVD players, and computers lined up along the walls than in a Circuit City warehouse. My eyes popped out of my head when I saw the new IBM laptop computer that all the computer geeks were talking about online. I didn't even think they were out yet.

“Hey, cuz, long time no see. Sorry about all this frisking and shit, but a brother can't be too safe in my line of work.” I was still staring at the laptop, wondering how much he was selling it for, when Lowjack snapped me out of my trance by grabbing me up in a bear hug. For a moment, I could hardly breathe, and then he let me go.

“I heard you moved back to New York. What you been up to? And where's that fine-ass wife of yours, anyway?”

“Man, I had to kick that bitch to the curb,” I lied as we pounded fists. “I'm back with my old girl, Tiffany. I been meaning to come by and holler at you before now, but you know how things can be with work and all.”

Lowjack cut his eyes. “Man, you know I ain't never worked no real job.”

I looked around nervously. My skin was crawling, his place was so dirty, but just standing there, I knew I'd come to the right place for what I was looking for.

“So, what brings you back to the hood? Can I interest you in a TV or a DVD player? I saw you looking at that laptop. I got a special on computers. Don't you work with computers?” I followed him over to the couch, but I couldn't bring myself to sit down next to him.

“Well, cuz, I'm tempted, but what I really need is a favor.”

Lowjack scratched on his day-old shadow. “A favor, huh? Damn, how come only time family comes to visit me is when they need a favor?”

I wanted to say, “Have you ever taken a good look at your place?” but I didn't speak at all. I think he got the hint anyway.

“So, what kind of favor you need?”

I fumbled around in my head for a minute for the right words. Lowjack sat patiently, awaiting my reply. I soon realized there was no other way to put it than to just ask, so I let the words roll off my tongue.

“What I need is some roaches.” I was serious, but I don't think he took it that way.

“You need some what?” He looked at me with a wrinkled nose and twisted lips. “What the fuck you mean, you need some roaches?”

“Like I said, I need some roaches. And from the looks of this place, you got plenty of roaches.”

Lowjack glared. “Yo, man, you ain't got to insult my crib. I know I got roaches. Everybody in these projects got roaches.”

“No, man, you don't understand. I really need some roaches.” I handed him my empty jar.

Lowjack held up the jar, staring into the pricked top. “You're serious, aren't you?”

“Yep, I sure am.”

“Well, aw'ight then.” He gave me the jar. “If you're serious, I guess you came to the right place.” He pointed at a door in the rear of the room. “The biggest ones are in the kitchen under the sink. Go knock yourself out.”

“Hold on there, cuz. This isn't exactly what I was thinking. I ain't going in there by myself.” I handed him the jar again. “I want you to collect them for me.”

“What! Man, are you serious? You want me to get you some roaches?”

“Yep, I sure do.” I nodded.

Lowjack stared at the jar, then smiled. “Aw'ight, I got this. But it's gonna cost you.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. Lowjack snatched the money out of my hands. “I guess you don't want too many roaches, 'cause a jar full of roaches costs more than twenty dollars around here. I'd say a jar full of roaches gonna run you at least fifty bucks.”

I shook my head, reaching into my pocket to pull out another twenty and a ten. This was starting to cost more than I expected, but if things went the way I planned, it would be well worth the money.

Lowjack took the cash from me with a smile. “Now you gonna get a lot of roaches. Follow me.”

I walked behind him into his small kitchen. He put the lights on, and I swear to God, you would've thought the walls were moving, so many roaches scattered from the light. Lowjack knew how to catch some bugs, too. He went over to this spot under the sink and within ten minutes, he had my jar three-fourths filled, and not soon enough for me. I was scratching and itching so much, I was starting to feel like I had hives. All I wanted to do was get the hell out of there and take a shower.

“That all you want?” he asked quizzically. “'Cause we got some real good rats in the basement. I could let you have a couple of them real cheap.”

I wasn't sure if I should laugh or not, but I actually contemplated his offer. No, I decided, a few rats would probably be over the top. “Naw, man, this is fine.”

“Okay, cuz, don't use them all in one place. There's plenty more where these came from, and if you call ahead next time, I can deliver.”

“I'll remember that.”

Lowjack kissed his fifty dollars as he let me out the door. “You know what, cuz? You one crazy muthafucka.”

I left his apartment with a big smile plastered on my face. Even the winos and junkies didn't bother me as I sauntered down the hallway with my roaches.

Twenty minutes later, I was walking through Tiffany's front door. She didn't know it, but I'd made my own set of keys when I took her car to the car wash last week. By the time she got back from picking up the kids at school, I'd be long gone. I placed the jar of roaches on the kitchen table, then reached into my jacket and pulled out a cigar. I lit it up and walked around the house, letting the smoke waft throughout the rooms.

I made my way back to the kitchen, staring at the jar of roaches. In one swift move, I opened the lid and let half of them out in the kitchen. They scrambled out of the jar like, “Free at last! Free at last!” I released the other half in the living room, making sure to leave about an inch of them in the jar, which I spread across Tiffany's bed. You'd think after driving around with them for twenty minutes I'd be used to them, but they still gave me the willies.

If this didn't get Tiffany to move in with me, nothing would. I hated to do it, but after spending all that time making those calls to get her fired, I had to do something. Tiffany, like most women, just didn't know what was good for her. And as her man, it was up to me to help her to make those decisions. The key was not to get caught.

I crushed the cigar's burning end out between my thumb and forefinger, then put the butt in a candy dish in the living room. I looked around before I left and was satisfied with the job I'd done. The roaches were crawling everywhere.

 

I'd just walked in the door when my phone rang. I didn't expect Tiffany to call this soon, but when I looked at the caller ID, I saw her number. I took a deep breath, trying to keep myself from laughing when I answered the phone.

“Hello,” I said nonchalantly.

“Sonny, Sonny, you gotta help me!” Tiffany screamed hysterically into the phone.

I held the phone away from my head and chuckled quietly. “What's the matter, Tif?” I asked calmly. I was proud of myself for the acting job I was doing.

“Roaches!”

“What's that?”

“I said, roaches. We've got roaches. They're all over the place. Even in my bed.”

“C'mon, Tif, stop exaggerating. Just step on it.”

“I'm not exaggerating. There's millions of these things in here.”

“Calm down, Tiffany.”

“I can't calm down. These things are crawling on me,” she whimpered.

I could imagine her brushing one off her arm as we spoke. “Tiff, don't panic,” I said soothingly.

“Don't tell me not to panic, Sonny. Goddammit! I can't stand roaches. I've never had them before.”

“I know. Maybe they bombed the apartments next door.”

“They ain't bombed shit. It was Kareem. I can still smell his stinky-ass cigar. I know it was Kareem.”

My face broke into a satisfied grin. God, do I love it when a plan comes together. I'd found a pack of Kareem's cigars a few weeks ago in a box of his personal shit that Tiffany had planned on giving back to him. She'd mentioned that one of the things she couldn't stand about him was his nasty-ass cigars, because of how the smell lingered in her furniture. That's why I brought a few of his brand of cigars to leave as evidence. What better scapegoat for the roaches than her pain-in-the-ass ex-husband?

“How do you know it was him?”

“He left a cigar. And he always said no nigga gon' be walking on his carpet in his house and over his kids. He will do anything to bring me down. As if I'm not going through enough.”

“Calm down, baby.”

“I can't calm down, Sonny. Is that offer to move in still open?”

I had her just where I wanted. The plan had worked to perfection. “Sure, you can move in anytime you want.”

“Thank you, Sonny.”

“No problem, baby.” I got straight to the point now. “But we just have to come up with some household rules if we're all going to be together under one roof.”

“Sonny, I'm not worried about no rules. Just get a truck and come move my stuff.”

“All right, I'm on my way. I just have to see if I can get a hold of James and Brent to help me move you. You know we're gonna have to leave everything outside and spray it before we move it into my house,” I told her, still feeling queasy at the thought of all those damn bugs crawling everywhere.

“Whatever, Sonny, just hurry up.”

I hung up happily. Things had finally fallen into place the way I wanted them to. I stepped outside to the U-Haul truck, which was waiting in my driveway. I called James and Brent to let them know I needed help moving Tiffany and her kids because they had an unexplained roach infestation at their apartment. I hated to use my friends in my schemes like this, but you know what they say…. What they don't know won't hurt them.

The look on Cathy's face as she stood in the doorway holding Marcus's hand was enough to make me want to turn and run away as fast as I could. Only problem was that my legs wouldn't move. My heart felt like it was already running in a hundred-yard dash, but my feet stayed firmly planted on the top step, so I was forced to look into my wife's eyes and see the accusation within.

“Hi, Daddy,” Marcus said happily, oblivious to the anger shooting out of Cathy's pores.

“Hey, Marcus,” I said weakly, wishing he could just disappear into thin air. “Uh, hi, Cathy.”

“Oh, so you know him, huh?” She spat the words at me like each one was a poisonous dart aimed at my head.

With a quick glance toward Marcus, I braced myself for what I knew would be the longest night of my life. “Yeah, I know him. His mother Michelle's a friend of mine from my old route. Did she bring him by?” I asked in a lame attempt to string together some sort of lie that Cathy might believe. I don't think I was doing such a good job, though.

“Yeah, she brought him by, all right, but she didn't say anything about being your friend. In fact, she called herself your baby's mama.” Her lips were twisted into a horrible grimace as she recounted the details of how she came to have my son here with her. Aside from the anger and attitude she was giving me, it was clear that Cathy was in emotional pain right now. I felt sick knowing that I was the sole cause of her heartbreak.

“Cathy….” I started to speak, but didn't really know what I could say to make this better. She wasn't about to help me out, either. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her eyebrows raised, as if challenging me to try to lie my way out of this one. I finally found the courage to ask, “Can I come in so we can talk?”

“What could we possibly have to say that I would want to hear, James? Some bitch just dropped off your kid on my doorstep. I think that says it all.”

“But I just found out about him myself,” I said desperately. I looked down to Marcus, who had wandered away from Cathy's grasp and was sitting on the floor near the front door, playing quietly with his superheroes. I hoped he was engrossed enough in his game that he wouldn't be listening to this conversation.

“Oh, that makes sense. You just found out about him, huh? Well, he sure seems familiar with you,
Daddy.
” Her sarcastic tone almost made “Daddy” sound like a dirty word. I guess in her mind, the fact that I'd fathered a child outside of our marriage was actually a pretty obscene idea. “Just answer this for me, James. Is he your son?”

“Well…” My eyes wandered everywhere except to Cathy's face. I couldn't bear to look at her as I admitted, “Yes, he is my son. But—”

“There is no but, James!” she shouted at me, her voice trembling like she was on the verge of tears. “You have another child! You're my husband, but another bitch had your baby! How do you think that makes me feel?” Her tears were now flowing freely.

I reached for her hand, but she snatched it away. I stood helplessly and watched her sob for a few seconds. Finally, she let me touch her arm and I guided her to the step so we could sit down. I didn't try to put my arm around her as she cried, knowing she probably wouldn't allow me. But as I sat next to my wife and watched her in agony, I kept murmuring quietly, “I am so sorry. I can't tell you how sorry I am.”

At one point, Marcus tried to come out to the steps with us, but I quickly told him to go back into the boys' bedroom, where he would find lots more toys. He ran away happily. I was glad he was young enough to ignore what was going on between me and my wife.

When Cathy's tears slowed a little, she turned to me with glistening eyes and asked, “How old is he?”

“He's three.”

She looked across the yard, and I could tell she was trying to do the math in her head.

“Yes,” I assured her, “he was conceived during the time you and I were having so many problems.”

She cut her eyes in my direction. “Is that supposed to make it all right? No matter how many problems we were having, we were still married, James. Did you really think going out to fuck another woman was going to
help
our marriage?”

I cringed at the truth of her words. In hindsight, I knew that having an affair with Michelle was not the smartest choice. Obviously it couldn't improve my marriage, but at the time, I was feeling terrible, and having another woman desire me when my own wife was so disgusted with me seemed like just the thing I needed. I didn't begin the affair thinking about what might happen in the future. I wasn't thinking about the fact that I might be able to fix my struggling marriage, and I certainly wasn't thinking about the fact that Michelle might have a child. I was only thinking about what I needed at the time, which was a boost for my wounded ego. Once I got what I needed, I had no more use for Michelle and the affair ended. But now I would be suffering the consequences for the rest of my life. And Cathy was here to remind me that I wasn't the only one who would be affected by my mistake.

“What exactly am I supposed to tell our boys?” she asked.

As I looked at her and thought about how I'd damaged my family, my own tears started to flow. “Oh, baby, I am so sorry.”

My attempt at tenderness just made her roll her eyes. “Please do not try to be kind to me right now, James, after you just ripped my heart out. Just tell me what you plan to do with this boy.”

“Well,” I started, not really sure what I could do. The only thing I was certain about right now was that I wished I could murder Michelle with my bare hands. “When his mother comes back to get him, we can sit down and decide how to tell the boys.”

“You must be joking,” she said, her tears now dried up, her anger back in full force. “First of all, I don't know why you think that boy's mother is coming back to get him. Only thing she said when she left him was, ‘James will know what to do with him.' She didn't say anything about being back anytime soon. And that bitch was dressed like she was going out to the club…. Either that or to walk the streets, I'm really not sure. But you can bet she ain't coming back here at least until tomorrow.”

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, still wishing this was just a bad dream that would be over soon. But with my eyes closed, an image flashed across my mind of Cathy standing in the doorway when I got home. She was holding Marcus's hand, but it was her other hand that concerned me now.

“She left him with a suitcase, didn't she?” I asked in a defeated tone.

Cathy looked like she wanted to hit me for being so slow. “You damn right she did. Now, do you still wanna talk about ‘when his mother comes back to get him'?” she asked, mimicking me in a voice that probably sounded as stupid as I had.

“She's just doing this to fuck with me,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as to convince my wife. I stood up and went to the living room, each step feeling like a walk down death row. Part of me knew I was going to find a hell of a lot more in that suitcase than clothes and diapers for one overnight visit. But in no way was I prepared for what was really in there.

As I held my breath and unzipped the small suitcase, I cursed myself a thousand times for every day I'd slept with Michelle. The breath escaped from my lungs and I had to suppress a scream when I saw what Michelle had packed for Marcus. On top of several outfits were two things that made it more than clear what Michelle planned. She had packed his birth certificate and his Medicaid card. She had no intentions of coming back to get Marcus anytime soon, if ever.

My hands were flat on the floor beside the suitcase, and I stayed on my knees, trying to control my breathing before I started hyperventilating. I couldn't get myself together enough to form a coherent thought. Could this shit possibly get any worse?

Cathy was standing over me now, looking at the contents of the suitcase, and in a low, vicious tone, she said, “You are such a stupid asshole. The least you could have done if you were going to fuck around was stay out of the ghetto, James. But no, you had to pick a woman so low, she would dump her own baby just to get your attention.”

I turned my head to look up at her, and again, all I could manage to say was, “I am so sorry, Cathy.”

“Yeah, you damn sure are sorry. You are one sorry-ass man. Now get
your child
, and get the hell outta my house.”

I looked at her, knowing there was no argument I could make at this point to change her mind. I closed Marcus's suitcase and pulled myself up off the floor. Without another word, I went to the bedroom to get him.

“Where are we going?” he asked as I led him toward the living room.

“Well, Marcus, I think we'll go stay with my mother tonight,” I explained, trying to sound like this was just a little change of plans, and not, quite possibly, the last time I would set foot in this house I shared with my wife and sons.

“Oh, good,” Marcus answered. “I like your mother.”

Cathy spun around, looking like she could spit fire. “Did he just say he likes your mother? Your mother knows about him?”

I sighed, too drained to even try to explain. “Yes, Cathy, my mother knows.”

“You son of a bitch. Get the fuck out my house,” she said ominously. “Take your goddamn child and go to your fucking momma's house. She's probably already got a room fixed up for him.”

“Cathy, please…. She—”

Her palm was in front of my face in an instant. “I do not wanna hear a word you have to say, James. Just be a fuckin' man and get out now.” She turned her back on me, and there was nothing I could do but take Marcus's hand and lead him outside to my car.

 

Marcus was sound asleep by the time we reached my mother's house. I carried him in my arms up the steps to the front door. Just like Cathy had done earlier, my mother pulled it open before I even had a chance to knock.

“Hi, Ma. How did you—”

“I just got off the phone with your wife,” she told me, the annoyance clear in her tone. “I don't appreciate her cursing me out like that, James.”

My shoulders slumped, and I had to hold on to Marcus tighter so I wouldn't drop him. “I'm sorry, Ma.” It seemed like I was going to spend the rest of the night, and perhaps the rest of my life, apologizing for the mess I'd created. “I didn't know she was gonna call you. I guess she told you what happened, huh?”

“Yes, she told me.” Her eyes traveled down to my arms, and she looked at Marcus, who was still sleeping. “You might as well bring him in and put him down in my bed.”

I followed her inside and carried Marcus into my mother's bedroom. Once he was tucked under the covers, I headed back out to the living room to receive the lecture I knew was coming. I sat on the couch and looked at my mother expectantly.

“What are you looking at?” she asked. “Don't you have anything to say for yourself?”

“What can I say, Ma? I fu—I mean, I messed up, and now I'm gonna be paying for it for the rest of my life. Cathy looked like she doesn't ever wanna talk to me again. What did she say to you, anyway?”

“You mean, after she got through cursing me out for being a part of your ‘elaborate deception,' as she called it? Well, she told me that since I seemed to support you and all your lies, I could keep you and your illegitimate child here.”

The way she said it, I knew my mother had no intention of letting me stay with her for too long. I know she loved me, and she had offered to help with Marcus once in a while, but my mother enjoyed her privacy, and she sure wasn't looking to give it up just because of my stupidity.

“Ma, I know we can't stay here forever, but I have nowhere to go right now. Can we at least stay here tonight? Tomorrow I'm gonna find Michelle and make her take Marcus back anyway.”

She frowned, but I knew there was no way she would refuse me. “You can have the couch. And I don't have any food for a child, so in the morning you'll have to go get him some cereal or something.”

I nodded. “I really appreciate this.”

“Mm-hmm. I bet you do. Now, what are you gonna do about your wife? You can't lose your family over this mess, James.”

“I don't know what I'm gonna do.” I stood up and headed to the door. I opened it, then turned to finish the conversation. “I have to give Cathy some time, I think, but I'm gonna do whatever it takes to get my family back together.”

“And what about this boy's mother? What was she thinking about, leaving her child like that?”

“I wish I knew. I knew she was low class, but I didn't think she would stoop to this level.”

She shook her head. “We talked about this, James. I thought you understood that you had to keep Michelle happy so she wouldn't do something like this. What happened?”

“I think she was just mad at me 'cause we had a fight and I told her I wouldn't watch Marcus for her tonight. I know I shouldn't have fought with her, but you just don't know, Ma. She knows how to push my buttons, and I just lost control.” I looked at my mother, hoping she'd understand, but she still had a disapproving look on her face. “I'll find her tomorrow and talk some sense into her. She'll take him back.” As I went to the car to get Marcus's suitcase, I could only hope that I was right—that it was possible to convince Michelle that this was not the way to go.