Black Beauty

The Aftermath

Going after Julia

Andre's hear pounded in his chest  he sat on his ass and watched Crazy Jade and her son walk away. 

What the hell had just happened?

 He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax.  The crazy lady couldn't do anything to him.  Everyone said she was a witch, but witches don't exist and it was obvious she was only trying to scare him. Why would an evil witch walked around the hood with a kid. She was poor and broke just like everyone else.   There was nothing magical or special about her.

Malik walked over with cup in his hand except this time it was something stronger than kool-aid.

"What did Crazy Jade do to you to send you on your ass?" Malik asked laughing.

"Man, she crazy." Andre stood and patted the dirt and grass off the back his shorts. "You see where those girls went?"

Malik cocked an eyebrow. "Those white girls?

"Yeah."

Malik shook his head.  "Them whites girls is gonna get your ass in some serious trouble one day."

"Negro, it ain't the 1950's.  Most of the black dudes in school got white girls and ain't body been lynched." Andre closed his eyes and sighed as  remembered the pained look on Benita's face, and then Crazy Jade  speaking to him in a language he couldn't understand. His eyes popped open and he shook his head, clearing away the thoughts. "Whatever. did you see where they went?" he asked, choosing to focus something more pleasant.

"I saw them around there yesterday," Malik said, pointing to the far end of the complex and past the playground.

Without another word, he ran in the direction Malik had pointed. He rounded the corner and slowed before he looked around.  He's gotten lucky.   Julia sat on the on the stairs as if she were waiting for him. In fact, she didn't look surprised to see him.

He slowly walked in her direction. He  wiped the sweat from his forehead and willed himself to act cool.

"So what's up?" he asked, staring down at her. "I thought I'd lost you."

She smiled with perfectly white and straight teeth. "I thought you would be getting your butt whooped by your momma."

He laughed. "No. My mom is cool. She knows I like to talk shit." Andre lied; his momma was gonna kick ass.

"Do you really think black girls look like cockroaches?" she said incredulously. "That's harsh." 

"No. I was just trying to rag on Benita. I didn't think before I spoke." He paused to grin. "I talk too much sometimes."

She nodded, looking as if she was giving his answer serious thought. He couldn't tell if she was happy to hear he didn't think black girls looked like cockroaches or disappointed.

"I don't think there is anything wrong with black girls," he explained. "I just don't date them. Benita liked me but I wasn't interested. That's why she was talking all that noise."

Julia nodded. This time she looked more bored than anything. 

He sat beside her on the step. The sun had heated the step and was almost too hot for sitting.   "So what's up? Why haven't I seen you before?" Andre asked.

"I just moved in last week," she said.

After thirty minutes, Andre learned Julia She's a sophomore, one year below him, her first day at his school would be Monday, and he'd left with her phone number.

#

Talking to his Mom

After talking to  Julia, Andre returned to the basketball court where he was clowned by because they'd seen him fall on his ass because of Crazy Jade. He could have left, but being teased was preferable to the beating he'd get when he got home.  Luckily, Benita had stomped off, to angry to tell anyone at the court what he'd said.

It was dark and almost ten o'clock before Andre started the trek to his apartment. He thought about staying with a friend and not going home, but that would just make it worse. He had a feeling his mother would track him down and beat him in front of the entire apartment complex.

Once he reached his home, he stood outside the door, took a deep breath and turned the knob. He peered inside. The lights were off and it was quiet. He couldn't remember the last time he'd stepped into the house without the television being turned on.

Slowly and quietly, He crept into in the apartment, being careful to go slow and close the door. 

Once the door was closed he saw. His mother on the couch. The laundry was gone.

"Sit down boy," she said. What does she look like?

Wordlessly, he sat  on the love seat next to her. 

"I'm s. . ." he began.

"Shut up," she ordered. "Is what Benita said true?"

"Momma, she was talking smack to me and all up in my face," he said, his voice sounding too loud and defensive even to him.

"Did you say black girls look like cockroaches?" she asked.

He clenched his jaw and focused on where he imaged the stained carpet where the worse-some twins had wasted their sugary cereal.

"Did you!" she shouted, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Yes," he muttered, felling like he'd just sentenced himself to death. "But I didn't mean it."

"You fixed your mouth to say it.  You must think there is some truth to it." She turned to him. Her eyes bright, angry, and glistening with tears. "Every time I leave this house, people look at my like I'm parasite because I used food stamps to feed my family. They look at me like I'm shit when I cash my welfare check. When I go out in public with four fucking kids and no man in sight, I'm treated like a welfare queen. Outside of this house, I'm nothing but a cockroach to people who don't know me. But to come home and hear my son has said those words to another black woman." She wiped the tears away from her face. "Is ten times worse than being treated like shit by everyone outside of my house. They don't matter to me, but you did." She stood and began walking into the back.

"But momma.."

She stopped. "I know I'm not perfect.  I know we don't have shit. But I know I didn't raise you to disrespect black woman like that." she sounded wary and hurt.

"But momma!" his voice cracked while tears fell onto his cheeks.

"Shut up," she shouted. "I don't want to hear your voice or look at you anymore tonight.  You're lucky I don't throw you out onto the streets."

He closed his mouth then. And watched his mother walk into her room.

Left alone he longed for an ass whooping with a switch while she cursed at him, because he knew the next day she'd be herself again. She'd still be his mother. But as he watched her leave, the reassurance she would still be his mother was no longer there.