The Old Neighborhood (47 page)

•

THE NEXT MORNING,
I walked over to the house on Bryn Mawr. I didn't want to have to face Ryan's Ma, but when I turned the corner, I was shocked to see Ryan sitting on the porch steps. He still had the earring and herringbone necklace, but now he wore a big black hoodie. He scowled against the breeze with his face all dried out and chapped. I hurried up to him, but he didn't get up—just reached his hand out, and we shook.

“You alright?” I asked, sitting down next to him on the steps.

“Fuck,” he said, grinning and looking away. His face was all pink and splotchy like he'd just woken. “Ma kicked me out. Said she wouldn't go through this again.”

“Damn.” I sat down.

“Fuck it. I've been paying half the bills anyway. She's gonna get fucking evicted.”

“You think so?” I looked in his eyes.

“Man, I didn't know,” he replied. We both looked down. “She didn't care where it was comin' from as long as it was green. Now, all of a sudden, I'm a criminal.”

“Damn…”

“But I'm gonna bring Bear over here. Fuck her,” he sneered.

“Well, with those other two, I think she'll be alright,” I said.

“Yeah, T-Money and dem said they'd keep an eye out for her,” he said sadly.

“That's good, man.” I took a pull off my cigarette. “What'd they get ya with?”

“Only a few bags. I ditched 'em in two spots.” He smiled.

“Good man,” I said.

“Yeah, that fuckin' Sonic can run, man! He chased me three blocks and caught my ass.”

“On foot?” I asked, eyebrows raised.

“Hell yeah, on foot! He was talking shit about his football days when they were bringing me in.”

“They didn't fuck you up, it don't look like.”

“Naw, the fucker was so happy. He was jumping around and shit, celebrating like he scored a fucking touchdown.”

“Dat asshole,” I laughed. “You didn't fight or nothing?”

“Man, I was too tired to fight, man.” He laughed. “Too many of these, man,” he added, holding up his smoke.

“Hell yeah,” I agreed. Both of us laughed. “How much
was bail?”

“They can't hold you, I guess, if you're a minor, so they just set a date.”

“What'd Mickey say?”

“He was mad, but you know, he was just happy I didn't talk.” Ryan flicked his cigarette. “You know how he is.”

“Yeah.” I leaned back on the steps.

“He's closing down the sills though. Said we failed the test.”

“What?”

“I told him about Angel. I guess Wacker wants to talk to you.” He shrugged. “You better start looking for a day job.”

“Ah… You serious? I just talked to him last night.”

“I guess your brother's been after him about it, so you're back to choir boy status.” He smiled, then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He turned his head east down Bryn Mawr. The traffic moved slowly, and the sunset struck everything in a bright orange glow that hung in the air. Tiny specks of dust sifted downward, and Melon Park was all lit up. The children rushed and laughed and squealed. When he turned back to look at me, there was a scowl on his lips. His eyes were all squinted up, and he looked old—old and tired.

“Your brother wrote me a letter…” he said.

“He's been writin' me a lot, too.”

“You know, man,” he said, pinching his nostrils. “You shouldn't be runnin' around wit' us… You got… You got more in you than this, man. You could go to college… I don't mean it like that bullshit
‘
Everybody could go to college.' I mean, you're smart—smarter than me and Angel and Mickey. You got a “A” in physics. I never got a “A” in anything in my whole life, even when I tried. And I tried before. The only thing I ever been good at is this.”

“That ain't true, man.”

“Fuck dat, Joe. It's true, and you know it. All I ever wanted to be was a TJO. You got something in you that's different, and if you keep hanging around here, you gonna waste it, and that'd be some stupid ass shit that I don't wanta have to fuckin' watch…”

Joy overwhelmed me in a warm haze. He was a true friend. I wanted to tell him there was so much more to him than gangbanging. How he should go be a soldier, a Marine. How great nations were built upon the backs of fierce warriors like him. The wires sliced through the joy, and I knew he'd just laugh at me. Then, I thought of Lil Pat writing Ryan those things—I never told Ryan I got an “A” in physics. I realized Lil Pat was asking Ryan to let me go.
But I don't want to let go. It
'
s all I know. But then again, maybe it's time to give it a try.

“Ah, fuck it….” I tossed my smoke down to the sidewalk. “I'm through,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, man.” I looked Ryan in his bright-green eyes. “At least for now.”

“Ah, that's good, ya know.” A smile crept over his face. “You're still down though, right?”

“Of course I am, motherfucker.” I punched him hard in the arm.

“Just checking.” He smiled, rubbing his bicep.

“You son of a bitch,” I said. “I'll be down forever.”

“For-ever?” Ryan replied in a mocking, shocked, high-pitch tone as he raised his red eyebrows.

“Forever,” I assured him. We both laughed and went on talking like neighborhood boys do as the afternoon traffic strode past on Bryn Mawr.

CHAPTER 30

COLLIDER

THEY BUMPED ME UP
to honors physics, screwed my whole schedule up. Looking back, I still can't figure out how I maintained an “A” through all of that bullshit I was going through. I guess it was my refuge—the sterile concepts, the great expanse I could dissolve into and the chaos of my life would just evaporate.

One day after class, Dydecky pulled Scott and I aside after all the kids had left. He shut the old oak door and turned around with his bushy eyebrows trembling in a straight line above his glasses and stark, dark-brown eyes. He waved us to sit on the desks in the front row as he eased down onto his desktop. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

“They're starting a new summer program at Fermi Lab for high school students with exceptional aptitude and interest in the field of particle physics,” he said, splicing his fingers and wrapping them snugly around his partially bent knee.

“There're only 20 openings, you stay at the facilities the entire time, and you're trained to do hands-on work with the accelerator and converse with some of the top physicists in the world. It's a three-week program starting this June, and I was asked to nominate one student for it. I decided to write a letter petitioning that I be allowed to send two. My finest student,” he nodded towards Scott, who batted his eyelashes bashfully and looked down, “and my student with the most potential.” He looked at me stone sober. His eyebrows percolated. “I just received the letter today; they've accepted both of you.”

“There are no fees involved; you just need to show up June eighth at 3pm,” he continued. “If you don't have a ride, I can drive you. These forms need to be signed by both of your parents and brought back as soon as you can, and I mean tomorrow.” He pulled two thick brochures from his cluttered desk and briskly flung them out into our waiting hands.

“You're going to be there with some of the finest students in the state of Illinois. Joe, I know you're struggling with some of the math, but I wouldn't have nominated you if I wasn't sure you could handle it, and if I wasn't sure you had something to offer to the program. Scott, maybe you can help him a little bringing him up to speed.”

“Sure,” he replied.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Now, this is a great opportunity. I wish I'd had an opportunity like it when I was your age.” He rubbed his thin bottom lip with his index finger. “But at the same time, I want you to know that you've both earned this, and I'm proud to be sending the both of you.” His brow bent and curved slightly as a stern grin crept on his pale lips. “Any questions?” He slipped his glasses off and cleared a smudge with a silk handkerchief he'd drawn from his pants pocket.

“Naw.” I shrugged.

“Nope.” Scott clapped his hands together softly.

We all stood up, and Dydecky walked us to the door with the world buzzing by behind the wire-flecked glass—a swirl of faces, flapping ties, running shouts, hollow metal locker slams, and hurried, squeaky steps. Dydecky, between and behind us, was rubbing both of our shoulders. My traps were tense, and his steady squeezes released warm electric prickles that sifted out across my back and arms.

The door opened, and the sound of the chaos erupted. Scott stepped out into it; I paused and turned back.

“Thanks, Dydecky.”

“Don't thank me, Joe. You've accomplished a lot this year. Thank you.” His brows popped up and stayed there. Long, horizontal lines layered up and stretched across his forehead below his thick, curly black hair. “It's been fun to watch.” He patted me on the back as I turned and stepped out into the hall.

When I got back to the block, I didn't know who to tell, so I went to tell Hyacinth. She sat on her front porch flipping through Seventeen magazine, still in her blue and red plaid Good Council uniform. I swooped up the steps and flopped down next to her. She nestled her face into my neck as I stretched my arm around her warm shoulders and squeezed. I kissed her forehead.

“What's dat?” she asked.

I'd forgotten I still had the forms from the physics program in my hand. I'd been reading them over and over all the way home.

“I got nominated for this physics program.”

“What!” She was awestruck. Her amber eyes suddenly brightened, and the afternoon light flecked in them as they swelled wide.

“Yeah, it's pretty cool. I'm gonna be gone for like three weeks this summer out at this big laboratory out in…” I glanced down at the papers. “Batavia.”

She reached out with both hands and grabbed my cheeks, smiling wildly in my face. Her deep-brown skin flushed lighter, and then she kissed my lips, hard. “I can't believe it, Joe! Congratulations!”

I laughed, my cheeks burning.

“Is it the one? The one you're always talking about? That Fermi place?”

“Yeah, it's the same one.”

“I can't believe it, baby… I can't believe it!”

“Me neither.” My chest filled with this warm joy as my whole life seemed to unfurl and blossom right there in front of me. I sat on that porch squeezing her soft, warm hand in mine. The crisp, almost spring air sifted over us, and it felt, for the first time in a long time, like all those deep, heavy, purple clouds had finally parted—that the wires were gone. Like a new life was blossoming.

•

Hi Kiddo,

Well you probably done heard by now, you ain't gonna be no TJO. That's the best thing I ever did for you. Remember that. May be the best thing I ever did in my whole messed up life. Sorry about the phone call. I just couldn't talk nomore and I had to hang up. Ya know there ain't never an hour passes I don't think about that Assyrian kid. I know. I know you was there. I imagine him at home with his mom and dad, sisters and brothers. I imagine him working in some office or driving an L train or on a construction site or just hanging out with his buddies. He'll never have those jobs. He'll never hang out with his buddies. I imagine him talking to beautiful chicks he'll never meet. Crying at the birth of his kids he'll never have. And he'll never do none of these things because a' me. 'Cause I took them away from him. And I can never give 'em back. Never. I didn't have the right to do that, Joey. I don't even have the right to do it to myself. Killing somebody, it's like you kill parts of a lot of people and you kill a big part of yourself too, a big part, a real precious part. There ain't many good laws in the world and you just broke the best of 'em. The only path from there is down. You can't make that same mistake I did. There's more for you out there in the world than the four walls I gotta stare at and the shitty memories in my head. Go on and do something with your life. Kid, go make something you could be proud of.

Your Brother,

Pat

CHAPTER 31

SUPER NOVA

WHEN IT FINALLY DID GO DOWN,
it was like our world exploded into a supernova and sent us all tumbling into an irreparable nebulous cloud.

I sat on the front porch steps of the house on Bryn Mawr with Ryan beside me. There was only a narrow path on the steps between us. The railings framed us at the sides with blue-gray paint peeling from the twisted metal support bars. The large windows of the enclosed front porch spread across the width of the house behind us. It was early evening. The March weather'd broken slightly, but you could feel it readying to roar again. I looked up Bryn Mawr to Ashland, then Melon Park across Ashland—empty of children and dark. St. Greg's loomed across the street like a medieval castle. Even though the laws were changing about slangin' in school zones, they were still runnin' H outta the Bryn Mawr house. I was through. I wasn't getting paid, just keepin' Ryan company as he played spotter and gatekeeper. There just wasn't much else to do.

A hype stumbled out of the side alley, and Ryan dragged his tongue across his lips. The yellow streetlight brought out the pale white on his thick-muscled forehead as he puffed on a Newport. The crisp menthol smell somehow brought out that smoldering winter scent that'd break soon and give way to spring. As the hype got closer, I saw it was Angel. He'd lopped his hair off, and now it was an uneven and spotty mess. It glowed black and greasy under the streetlight like the fur of a sewer rat.