Tears of a Tiger (8 page)

JANUARY 14

—Hey, Andy—would you turn my light back on?

—Why? You scared of the dark, Monty?

—No, I just want to be able to see stuff while I'm fallin' asleep.

—How you gonna see stuff? Your eyes be closed.

—Yeah, but if I hafta open ‘em real quick—like if it was a fire or a robber or a monster or something—I could see what I needed to see.

—Okay, okay, I'll leave the light on. You get to sleep now.

—Andy?

—What?

—When you dream, do you dream in color or in black and white?

—I don't know. I never thought about it. Where do you get these questions?

—Hey, I'm six years old. I got a lot to learn.

—You got that right.

—So, tell me. Are dreams in color, like on TV, or black and white, like those old movies that Daddy likes to watch?

—I guess dreams are in color. That makes sense, don't it?

—Maybe black people dream in color, and white people dream in black and white. That makes sense to me.

—Seems to me that stuff that makes sense to you don't make much sense to nobody else in the world. Who knows? You may be right. Now go to sleep.

—Andy?

—What?

—Do you ever have bad dreams?

—Yeah, man. Sometimes. I guess everybody does at one time or another.

—About monsters and robbers and stuff?

—Naw, man. That's kiddie nightmares. I have grownup nightmares about chemistry tests and dragon-breathin' teachers and bein' caught in a rich white neighborhood after midnight.

—That ain't scary.

—It's scary if you're seventeen. Let's get some sleep now. You ask too many questions.

—Are you gonna go to sleep now too?

—Yeah, in a little bit. I'm gonna call Keisha and then I'll turn in.

—When'll Mama and Daddy be home?

—I don't know. They went out to dinner—first time in a long time. They need to get out every once in a while.

—Yeah, I guess. I'm not scared, though, ‘cause I got my light on, and I got you in the next room.

—Oh, wow! You got Andy the Might Protector!

—Yeah, and if that don't work, I got my Teenage Warrior Space Soldier.

—You sleep with that thing?

—Yeah, why not?

—You too big to be sleepin' with stuff like that.

—I am not. If
you
slept with a warrior space soldier, maybe you wouldn't have nightmares either.

—I'll keep that in mind. Good night, little dude.

—Good night, Andy.

 

—Hello, may I speak to Keisha?…Hi, Keisha. Watcha doin'?

—Nothing much. Finishing up my homework and thinking about you.

—Oh yeah? Good stuff?

—Yeah, mostly.

—Like what?

—Like how much fun you can be sometimes. Like how patient you are with Monty. Like how things brighten up when you're smiling.

—You ever think bad stuff about me?

—Sometimes. I mean, sometimes I worry about you.

—Yeah, I know. Sometimes I worry about myself.

—How come?

—Like for instance, I look at Monty and his future looks so bright. He's cute and he's smart. He'll be a doctor or a lawyer some day. I can tell. But me, I don't see me bein' nothin' in the future.

—You mean you see yourself as one of those street people with no place to go?

—No. I mean I don't see myself at all. When I think about the future, all I see is a blank—and darkness.

—That's depressing. What do you see for me in the future?

—You? You gonna be the first black woman somethin'-or-other. If there ain't one yet, you gonna be it.

—You're crazy. And don't you see yourself with me as the husband (or maybe the secret lover) of the first black woman something-or-other?

—No, I don't. I don't know where I'll be, but I'm not there with you. I'm not anywhere.

—Very strange, your visions of the future. What about the near future, like next Friday?

—That far, I can see.

—Do you see us getting together?

—I see us at a movie…. I see us at Mickey D's for burgers…. I see us makin' passionate love in the moonlight!

—I think your crystal ball is cracked. But two out of three ain't bad.

—Which two were right?

—Get off the phone, silly dude. I'll see you tomorrow.

—G'night, Keisha. You know, I like talkin' to you on the phone.

—Why?

—'Cause you don't make fun of me when I start talkin' off-the-wall stuff. And you listen to whatever foolishness I got to say.

—That's ‘cause I like you, Andy. And I care about you.

—You're somethin' special, you know.

—That's what all the fellas say.

—Girl, get outta here. Talk to you tomorrow.

—Okay, Andy. Bye. You going to sleep now?

—Yeah. My head is on the pillow and I'm gonna fall asleep think' ‘bout you.

—Then I guess you'll have sweet dreams. Good night.

—'Night, Keisha.

 

—Andy! Andy! Andy! Why are you sleepin' in that soft warm bed with the fresh blue pillowcases? I'm cold, Andy. Can I borrow a blanket?

—Who's there? Who said that?

—It's me, brother. Your main man, Roberto. And yes, I'm cold. Very cold. It's no fun bein' dead.

—I'm sorry, Rob. You know I didn't mean to hurt you.

—Understood, my man. But when're you comin' to keep me company?

—Me?

—We could play some on-on-one. You know I always could beat you.

—What you talkin' about? You want me to be dead?

—Yeah, man, with you dead, it'll be live! Wait a minute. Does that make sense?

—None of this makes sense. What do you want, Robbie?

—I want
you,
Andy. You. Ain't no black folks in the part of Heaven that I been assigned to and I'm bored.

—What?

—Computer foul-up. Since my last name is Washington, they put me in the section with George and Martha. Nice folks, but boring! George never even heard of basketball, and Martha keeps askin' why there ain't no slave quarters in Heaven. So I spend most of my time (which, by the way, is an eternity) bringin' ‘em up to date on American history. And you
know
I slept through most of Killian's class, so I'm runnin' out of things to tell ‘em.

—Rob, you drivin' me crazy! None of this makes any sense. I must be dreamin'!

—Sure, you're dreamin'. You know, if you had a Teenage Warrior Space Soldier with you, I couldn't be botherin' you. They're pretty powerful, you know.

—You mean Monty was right?

—Sure. And tell him he's also right about dreams. It's true—black folks do dream in color. Big dreams need technicolor. So, when you comin'?

—I can't, Rob. Please leave me alone.

—It's all your fault, you know. All your fault. You got the beer. You drove the car. You smashed into the wall. You killed me. And now you gotta come and keep me company.

—No! I swear I didn't mean to! It was an accident! A horrible, horrible accident!

—I'm waitin' for ya, Andy…. I'm waiting….

—No! No! No! Get outta here! Leave me alone!

 

—Andy? You okay?

—Wha—? What? Whatsa matter, Monty? Why you in here?

—You were screamin'. Did you have a bad dream after all?

—A bad dream? Yeah, I guess so. I'm okay now.

—You want my Teenage Warrior Space Soldier? I got two. Rocketman is the most powerful, but Astroman has the most weapons.

—Hey, just to make you happy, I'm gonna take Rocketman, okay? Now go back to bed. I'm sorry I woke you up.

—G'nite, Andy.

—G'nite, Monty. And thanks.

JANUARY 18

JANUARY 21

—All right, class. We've almost finished our study of Macbeth. We've watched Macbeth change from a noble, trusted, dedicated soldier, willing to sacrifice his life for king and country, to a wretched, depraved, corrupt murderer who no longer has feelings of guilt or morality. It's a fascinating study of the degeneration of the human spirit.

—Ms. Blackwell, does he die at the end?

—Well, Marcus, he's just about dead inside already. He's got one little spark left—his refusal to surrender to Macduff and the forces of good—but don't you think his death is inevitable, Marcus?

—Yeah, he deserves to die—he killed his best friend, he killed women and children, he killed the king. Yeah, I'd say my man deserves to die.

—Okay, what about his wife? Does she deserve to die too? Mary Alice?

—Well, it
was
originally her idea. If it hadn't been for her, Macbeth never would have killed the king in the first place. Women have that power over men, you know. Right, Keisha?

—Right on, girl. Now you're talking!

—Ooh—You wish! You livin' in “la-la land,” ladies!

—Okay, Gerald, that will be enough. Keisha and Mary Alice have a right to their opinions too, you know. But Lady Macbeth, who seemed so strong at the beginning of the play, had a rather rapid mental deterioration—remember she was walking and talking in her sleep and washing her hands uncontrollably? She finally cannot stand the pressure of the guilt, and she kills herself.

—Kills herself? What a wimp! I'm disappointed. I thought she was pretty cool for a while there.

—Sorry, Keisha. She takes the coward's way out by committing suicide and leaves Macbeth to face the end alone. But you must remember that she
was
a murderer. I don't think Shakespeare meant for her to be a hero. That's where we'll start today—where Macbeth learns of his wife's death. Open to page 224—Act 5, Scene 5, line 16. Anthony, would you read, please?

The Queen, my Lord, is dead.

 

She should have died hereafter;

There would have been a time for such a word.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

and then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

—Now let's see what Shakespeare is talking about here. What is he saying about life? B.J.?

—He says, “Life is short, and then you die. And on top of that, life don't really mean nothin' anyway.” But I think the only reason that he was so depressed was because he had been the cause of so much death that he couldn't find nothin' else good about livin'.

—That's a wonderful observation, B.J. See, Shakespeare isn't so bad. You're doing a great job of figuring out what's going on. Andy, what do
you
think about these lines?…Andy…where are you going? What's wrong? Someone go check on him, please. He seemed pretty upset. Keisha? Tyrone? Go out in the hall and make sure he's all right.

—Okay, class. Let's go on.