Chapter 15 - When the truth speaks...it shuts you up quick...
STEVEY
The greater danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark - MICHAELANGELO
“Do me a favor and tilt your head slightly up for me please...perfect.”
Her toffee honey complexion illuminated in the beaming lights surrounding her in the photo studio; we’ve been down here for the past two hours, and I was grateful we were making progress. Indigo, one of the sophomore students I was assigned to in class for a project agreed to the impromptu shoot. After improvising a perfect angle of her face. When simply raising her phone up for service, it led us to 52 shots later, we were damn near close in placing the finishing touches to our mini project on angles, and lighting.
“I feel like I’m just twisting my neck an inch only every two minutes.” She chuckled before turning to me as I viewed the several images shot.
“I was trying to manipulate the little to no lighting in this room, but you did good. Real good.”
“Thank you, I’m not used to this at all. Staying in the background is my thing.”
“Yeah I know.”
I smiled glancing up at her. I swear she was a new student when her name was called as my partner from our professor. Being quite familiar with each and every film and photography student from being so sociable, I was sure I would’ve have remembered her; but from the looks of things, I was wrong. The timid girl who kept quiet in the back of the room, I found to know was always the first one to leave class, and the first one to enter. She never spoke but knew every answer, and aced every test. She had a peculiar but captivating portfolio of flowers, the forest, and beaches and shit; definitely one of those hippie types.
“I mean I don’t mean to, I’m just very observant.”
“Any particular reason why?” Taking the camera off of it’s tripod, I adjusted the aperture taking one last random flick of the back wall before taking the memory card out.
“ I rather watch and learn. Further dissect a thing before coming close, and declaring interest.” Our eyes locked for moments before she broke the stare gazing her eyes upward around the studio. She lightly hummed while picking up photographs that were left by other students. As she lifted a photo film roll in the light, my eyes traveled up from her bronze colored follicles to the golden hoop nose ring embedded her button nose. She definitely was a vision.
“Take a picture...it’ll last longer.” So I did, causing her to burst into a chuckle shielding her face.
“You sing?”
“Eh...I can, I mostly write though. “
“Like poetry?”
“It’s a little of both, only for therapeutic purposes.”
“You plan on going somewhere with that?”
“Nope, it’s staying right in the confines of my mind, journal, and dorm room.” Her soft chuckle masked the nervousness that made her face turn a light flushed red, as she turned away focusing elsewhere; she couldn’t fool me though if she tried.
“What justice does it serve in doing that? I bet it’s dope shit.”
“I...I never shared any intimate content like that before, something so personal and vulnerable is a bit embarrassing for me.”
“Well I wanna hear it. Bet money it’s dope, and If I’m right? We’re gonna have to do something about that confinement.”
“We’ll just have to see…”
DYLAN
My eyes glistened, and feeling the liquid consume my eyelids I inhaled tightly to prevent them from falling. Not much had changed honestly. The little babies I would babysit around the block, that would play hopscotch and freeze tag in the streets were now grown little women. Rid of them were the pigtails, and barrettes but instead 34’ inch bundles, with color coordinated mani’s and pedi’s. Puberty now emerging with a strong presence, as their shapely bodies filled their tight preteen clothing.
“Home sweet home baby girl...” Taking a slight right as Damonte approached the infamous rugged road of East 213th street, he made a quick stop at a local bodega, and so much love was shown his way. Like a true hood star, he soaked in every moment with familiarity because it was nothing new; the glares I received from the local collective of hoodrats was comical to say the least but I knew the deal. Hmm, I wonder which one of y'all hoes he done smashed and gave a wet dream this week...
“Oh so shorty you don't know nobody now!?” My decision to stay low and remain incognito for a minute to peep the scene fell short as Baby Deuce approached the vehicle with the brightest smile he could muster. He was known as such because of the undeniable baby face he adorned and the notoriety of being the youngest son out of the Ricardo boys. He looked more like their mother, as opposed to Damonte who was basically their father twin. He was the lowkey one, and crazy talented and gifted. He would always ask me to tutor him for his exams, being that I was two grades above him like his brother. While Damonte would roam the streets, I’d keep Deuce under my wing to focus; I always looked as him being my little brother too. Eventually when he got older he decided to run behind Damonte and his friends whenever I couldn’t prevent it.
“How’d you do on the test?” He looked up the block as he slid a hand down his swimming waves fixing his Yankees cap, out of nerves I can clearly see was there.
“I don’t know D, 1650 to get in man? That’s just...” He sighed shaking his head as he walked closer to the passenger door, letting a car go pass.
“You got it though. Math is your strong suit, you stressing over it is only gonna make you freak out unnecessarily.”
“I know but like damn man, the SATs wasn’t fuckin’ playin’ on the kid!” The chuckle that greeted his lips that made his cradle dimples appear relieved me of any worry that he’d be good; no matter the situation Baby Deuce was always the one known for clowning to diffuse a situation.
“I told you to study, see…”
“You was right and I did though, but gahdamn! 5 hours and shit, got a nigga ass hurtin’. Not to mention having to get up bright fuckin’ early and shit. But that’s the usual. A nigga gotta get up outta here man, so no complaints. It’s gettin’ rough out here.” I knew he was speaking nothing but the truth, as my eyes roamed the area where fresh spray paint of “R.I.P” signs adorned the abandoned buildings, and brick walls. Another hood legend slain, or dopeboy living to these streets for that credibility in this concrete jungle. It was a sad sight, and coming back not seeing much improvement, didn’t help lift my spirits but furthermore supported my reasoning and moving on from this hell hole.
“I can see that Deuce, that’s why I need you to keep clear of this shit, there’s nothing out here...forreal. And your hardheaded ass brother doesn’t get that..” I watched from afar, as Damonte chopped it up with a couple dudes from the block. Even as thuggish as his demeanor could be perceived, he still held this rawness, and distinctivity that set him apart.
“I see you riding shotgun though..” He smiled giving me a knowing look of accusation. “Dyl and Monte, back at it like it’s 2012?”
“No! Unh uh, let me stop you right there. I was forced, and dragged here today, I ain’t wanna be riding with him. Please..”
“Mhmm, I bet. But it’s a problem not seeing your face anymore Dylan forreal. I want you poppin’ shit on the runways, but your Bronx fam miss you like crazy too baby girl.” Leave it to Deuce to make me feel worse; trust me I wasn’t ashamed of my roots of being from the ghetto, because it’s home; and no fashion house of couture or foreign designed piece of retail could ever change that, I just knew more than anyone how congested, and confined this could keep you.
“Trust me..I missed y’all too.”
Shortly after being called off by one of the dudes hugging the corner near East Chester apartment complex, he jetted off in that direction. From my peripheral I could see Damonte swaggering his way back over casually with no care in the world.
“No se podía dejar el coche de alta sadity?” He chuckled looking over at me as he got settled in the car seat after entering. I simply waved him off while looking up the block, and for a pretty fair day in the weather there was a crowd outside.
“I’m not high sadity, you seriously tried.”
“Oh you not high sadity? Dylan, right or wrong, that jacket alone don’t cost more than the section 8 rent ma?”
“Goodbye Damonte don’t even start with me!” He was right though unfortunately. “Them buttas on your feet and that grill in your bottom row of teeth alone can pay a couple of my loans boy, so stop it!” We both laughed as he shook his head starting the engine, now riding up an alleyway near the bodega.
“Aye, I never said I wasn’t sadity I’m just gutter with my shit. The streets been missing you shorty though, as you can see.” I waved at a couple more familiar faces I seen looking out the window, and rounding the corner emerging to the only known bright red house on the block, I seen a short figure walking off the porch; now providing instant familiarity and comfort.
“She missed you most of all though, and is about to get in that ass..” He laughed some cutting off the engine after parking, now getting out and making way over to the same figure that now embraced him.
“I told her grandma she in trouble, she thought it was a joke.” Mama Santo stocky, but tiny frame scolded me with a stare not even speaking, but was unable to hold back a smile as she pulled me in. I was immediately rid of hesitation making way over as I held her for what felt like a peaceful eternity. She was the neighbor hood's grandma, and everyone around the block called her mama, and respected her as such. Providing meals, and sound council for majority of the kids in Bronx, she was everyone's abuela that didn’t have a parent to claim as their own’ and that included me, even though biologically she was Deuce and Damonte’s.
“Mami, you no call...no visit! Echaba de menos a mi pequeño bebé tanto. Cómo te atreves !?”
“Mama..mama. Stop, I’m sorry. I was busy with school but I’m here now right?” It was crazy how technically my father, of dominican descent held some familiarity with spanish but never taught me, but I understood it and knew majority from her home teachings. Damonte couldn’t contain his laughter as I gave him a death glare and entered the huge space of the livingroom, that was traditionally and homely furnished. The aroma of food ready consumed my senses, as I looked around at my sacred place of sanity my adolescent years. Here too, nothing much has changed as my own, as well as Damonte’s, and Deuce’s baby pictures adorned the walls. But I didn’t mind it this time.
“I know that university of yours doesn’t feed you good home cook meals, so get settled to eat, and you’re not rushing out of here this time..” How could I argue with the feisty old lady, as she compiled a large plate of food still scolding me nonetheless; these were the little moments that I missed the most.
“Abuela I can’t eat all this food.” I grinned hugely staring down at my plate filled with scrumptious spanish delights, feeling the my stomach grumble. Suddenly a large hand pulled it away with one of the same fingers motioned me to come.
“We gon knock this thing out together then, come here…” Reluctantly I made way over to Damonte sitting on his lap as he proceeded in digging in at the dining room space.
“Damn fat ass! She made it for me!”
“Hush..” He stuffed the spoon in my mouth, with me now trying to stifle a moan as I chewed.
“Mmm, I needed this. It’s been so long..”
“Yeah, too long.” We locked eyes for what felt like an eternity, and I decided that cherishing this moment would be okay...for now.
TYLER
“How many packs of cigarettes do you go through a day? That’s what? Your fourth in three hours?” I’m in hell.
“Stop asking me shit. Damn…”
“Answer the fuckin’ question. “
“Fuck you.” The plumpness of his lips was licked over in a manner too awkwardly sexual for the heated exchange prior to the cruel act. Day by day he became more enticing, that it was annoying. Tyler you better get it the fuck together!
“What kind are those? Let me see the box…” I handed him my American Spirit Cigarettes with hesitance, watching as he held them in his hand for moments.
“Native Americans definitely didn’t make these…” Before I could declare an objection the box was clutched and squished in between in his hands, him now fisting it into a ball.
“THE FUCK!?”
“Leo-”
“Nah, fuck that..”
“Are you serious?!”
“This is the second pack I saw your ass buy since yesterday! Get the fuck over it! They’re gone!” I reached for anything I could get my hand on as I flung it across the room, aiming for his head, and the middle area between his eyes.
“If I hav-..” He ducked and dodged hopping off of the table. “If I gotta come over there for your-...ass. Tyler!” Ouch. My back landed against the yellow walls of his spacious livingroom; us clearly disregarding completely the other residents of the dormitory in the late hours of 2am.
“Get off of me.”
“Throw some more shit at me again and watch I fuck you up.” Please? I fought myself not to say those words, as I shoved him off.
“You’re buying me some more cigarettes. And that’s on everything. The hell is wrong with you?”
“If I had to quit, you are too.”
“What the hell do I have to do with that?! That was your choice, nigga the fuck?!”
“Raise your voice again. Go head...it’s two o’clock in the fuckin’ -..” My hand raised to his face silencing him while bypassing him. Only for me to get yoked up and pulled completely out of the safe haven that was a foot away from him. I’m guessing the lovely students of NYU figured an innocent case of lovers quarrels, because they ignored us like wasn’t shit happening. Thanks alot fellow classmates!
“Get your hands off me! Do I look like your child? Your woman to be tryin’ to put your damn hands on me? Make me slap the shit out your ass.” I fixed his plaid button up that sagged on my shoulders my now wrinkled V-neck worn beneath. So much for studying for midterms; In the span of just five minutes we’ve went from studying fresco methods of Michelangelo, to a late night screaming match; the referee being sexual heat.
“Now if something is stressing you out, like these midterms, we can talk about it. But smoking your lungs away ain't gon’ solve shit. Now talk…”
“Did I say anything wa-”
“Talk!” And I so did. And for the first time, in the past weeks the barrier was dropped from my tensed shoulders I’ve been trying to hold up for the exhausted time span. From the gruelness of Alex, to Tyler’s situation, and my mother’s control issues, I sounded off what’s been compacted in my thoughts just screaming to get let out; surprisingly to the one person that has been annoying me since day one. But his sincerity, as shocking as it was, gave me assurance; and although I hated to admit it...it was needed.
“...So your sister is fulfilling your father’s dream and has neglected her own? At Columbia you said.”
“Yes.” My statement was barely audible; I didn’t realize, until now, how much this has been affecting me.
“I take it, you’ve voiced your concerns to her, and she’s adamant about seeing this through?”
“Absolutely. And it’s mind boggling to me. Acting was her life, her everything. And she just..just threw it away. For what?! A Phd as an accolade, and acceptance of my father?”
“Ty..she has to want it just as bad as you want it for her; it’s pointless in having a dream just passionate enough for you knowing how to do it...but not willing to fight for it. Get me?”
“Yeah but...I know you’re right. It’s true, but apart of me..apart of me has some fault in her making that decision. I know she’s doing everything she’s doing..because of me…”
“Tyler...come on, ma.”
“No, Leon seriously. I’m the black sheep of the Charles children; the bad apple. The one who was expected to be the disappointment. So of course Tony had to sacrifice a dream for my father’s smile, from a scowl I always caused.”
“Riddle me this…” He followed me out to his balcony that stood above pretty glowing lights of Prime East Village; Pedestrians on a careless troll to a destination I’m sure had meaning and more significance than my troubles at the moment. Or were some just as lost, and emotionally bruised like I was? Concealing the scars through defenses only hindering us by the days. Who truly knew? His warm presence was close behind me as he began to speak.
“Why’d it never work when you tried doing right by your mother’s wishes?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did always “doing you” work? Despite everything?”
“I...it just feels right.”
“Doing you feels right?”
“Yes..”
“So how could you be wrong or at fault being honest with yourself? If not anyone, or even yourself, you owe it to your creativity and those who believe in you, to do what feels right; and that would mean doing you unapologetically even in the midst of opposition.” There wasn’t a response needed to be stated. We stood there in silence, which made it’s own conversation with the wind that picked and graced our faces. The truth spoke volumes for us both in a calm murmur that settled me. Despite the situational crises, at the moment I was at peace.