“I’ll have to watch that,” Travis said. “And thank you again. Listen, would you like to go out with me some time?”
Me’shelle leaned back and looked Travis over. “I don’t know if that would be a good idea.”
“Why? Are you married?”
“No.”
“Well then, I think it’s the least you could do after you attacked my ankle,” Travis said jokingly, but he was dead serious.
“Travis-that’s your name, right? I usually don’t go out with guys that try to pick me up in the grocery store. So, I guess that you’ll just have to settle for a sincere apology.”
“Well, if that’s all I can have, then I will just have to be happy with that.” Travis once again extended his hand. “It was truly a pleasure meeting and talking with you today, Ms. Lawrence. Hopefully we’ll meet again some time. In fact, I’m sure of it,” Travis said confidently.
Me’shelle accepted his hand and looked at him curiously. “Nice meeting you too.” She was really starting to like Travis. I wasn’t expecting him to give up so easily, she thought as she watched Travis walk down the aisle heading toward the checkout lanes.
For Travis, it was a totally successful first encounter. He came away knowing her name. Me’shelle Lawrence. The words seemed to float from her lips to his ears. He knew what kind of car she drove. He knew that she was health conscious, and he now knew that she was quite intelligent.
Travis paid for his items and headed for his car, knowing that he would see her again. He made a note of her license plate number and drove off.
Chapter Seven
On Sunday morning, Me’shelle got in her car and headed to her aunt Miranda’s house in Queens for Sunday dinner. As she drove across the Whitestone Bridge, she glanced out her window at the water. She loved the water; it was so peaceful and allowed her to clear her mind and think. Of course, driving across a bridge may not be the best time to look at and enjoy the water, but it is what it is. Her dilemma that morning was her older brother, Bruce. How should she handle him, and what, if anything, could she do to get her niece, Brandy, out of that situation?
Like so many others, Bruce had lost his job. To make ends meet he began to sell cocaine for some character who called himself Chilly. Nothing major; he could flip a few grams, maybe an ounce here and there if he already had a buyer. But then he would step on it so hard that they didn’t come back. You see, Bruce and his wife Natalie were big-time smokers, and having product around just made it worse because they would always smoke themselves in a hole. A hole that they continuously asked Me’shelle to dig them out of.
The night before Bruce had come to her for help. It wasn’t that they owed anybody money. That would come later. They had smoked all they had and needed money for more.
The calls began a little after 2:00 in the morning. She knew it was Bruce, and she knew what he wanted, so she didn’t answer the phone. But the calls continued about every ten minutes until Me’shelle unplugged her phone at 3:00 in the morning. By the time she had drifted off to sleep, it was after 4:00. That sleep was interrupted by a loud banging at her door accompanied by, “Me’shelle!” Bruce yelled at the top of his lungs as he continued to bang on the door. “Open the door, Me’shelle! I know you’re in there!”
Me’shelle jumped out of bed and ran to the door. She had to shut him up because the last time he pulled a stunt like this, her landlord, Mrs. B., told her if it happened again, lease or no lease, she was putting her out. She swung the door open, snatched Bruce by his shirt and dragged him into the apartment. “Are you crazy, Bruce? What are doin’ knocking on my door like a crazy fool at four in the morning?”
“You wouldn’t answer your phone.”
“Did you ever think that I wasn’t home or had company and didn’t want to be bothered?”
“Nope. Since that blockhead Trent dropped you, you never go anywhere,” Bruce said, looking around Me’shelle’s apartment.
“He didn’t drop me. We agreed that we should see other people,” Me’shelle said, knowing Trent had dropped her.
“Whatever, Me’shelle. That’s just some shit a muthafucka like him would say when he dropped your ass,” Bruce cracked.
“Anyway, I still could’ve had a date.”
“Who? You? Sister Mary-Me’shelle out on a date? I don’t think so. You never go anywhere, you never do anything. You just sit here every night readin’ them stupid self improvement books and gradin’ them kids’ papers.”
“Books aren’t stupid!” Me’shelle replied angrily. “Never mind. And stop looking around here for something to pawn. How much do you need?”
“Since you asked, I need two thousand dollars. But I know you ain’t got it like that, so just give me fifty and I’m gone.”
Me’shelle sucked her teeth, but she went to get her purse anyway. “You know what, Bruce? This is the last time. I can’t keep supporting you and Natalie’s habit. If Mommy and Daddy knew you turned out to be a crackhead and I was supportin’ your habit, what would they say?”
“I don’t know what your mother would say. And Pops wouldn’ta said nothin’. He woulda just sat in his chair and stared at the TV like he always did.”
After that, she really didn’t get back to sleep, and once the morning flooded her bedroom with sunshine there was no longer any point in trying. By the time Me’shelle got to the Liberty Avenue exit on the Van Wyck Expressway, she felt tired.
When she arrived at her aunt Miranda’s house, it was like a burst of energy came over her. Me’shelle unlocked the door and wandered through the house hollering, “Good morning, Aunt Miranda! Aunt Miranda, where are you?”
“In the kitchen, Me’shelle,” Miranda answered.
Me’shelle entered the kitchen and gave her aunt a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Mornin’, Me’shelle. You look tired, baby. You gettin’ enough rest? Anyway, you’re just in time to help me pick and wash these greens so I can cook them for tomorrow. My arthritis is actin’ up on me this morning. And I don’t know what all that hollering was for. Where else would I be on Sunday morning?”
“I don’t know, in bed or church maybe,” Me’shelle answered as she rolled up her sleeves.
“When have you ever known me to be in bed past seven? I’m an early riser, and church, you know that’s your Aunt Juanita’s thing. She called me this morning like she does every Sunday, and invited me to go to church with her. And I told her no, just like I do every Sunday,” Miranda said as she sat down at the kitchen table.
“You oughta go with her some time. Pastor usually preaches a sermon.”
“Then you go with her.”
“You know I used to before-” Me’shelle paused without finishing.
“You can say it. Before Trent started bringing that slut to church with him every Sunday. But you know that shouldn’t stop you from goin’,” Miranda said.
Me’shelle thought about all the things Bruce had said to her, not just about Trent, but about her parents. “Bruce came by at four in the morning.”
“Oh Lord. That’s why you look so tired. How much did he want this time?”
“Just fifty dollars this time,” Me’shelle said with a look that let her aunt know there was something else.
“I’ve seen that face before. What did he say to you?”
“It’s not what he said, ’cause what he said is the truth. It’s the way he said it. I asked him what would Mommy and Daddy think if they knew he was a crackhead and I was supporting his habit.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘I don’t know what your mother would say.’ Your mother. Like she wasn’t his mother too.”
“Come sit down, Me’shelle,” Miranda said. Me’shelle stopped what she was doing and sat down at the table. “I can understand why your brother would feel like that. You both were very young when she died. He probably doesn’t remember much about her.”
“I know that, Aunt Miranda. I don’t remember much about her either, but she’s still his mother.”