Ambitious (14 page)

Drew

Being
inside a Broadway theater was nothing new for me. I’d been to plenty of shows and seen my share of off-Broadway and off-off-Broadway stage plays with my dad. It was those times with him that ignited the small fire beneath me; made me want to be on that stage instead of in the audience—an observer. Never had I been a member of the cast; backstage waiting for the curtains to go up.

The first scene—it’s a Friday morning on the South Side of Chicago, sometime after World War II. The Youngers’ living area is small. As a family, they live in the ghetto and they’re poor. In fact, they share one bathroom with other tenants in an apartment house, and my son Travis sleeps on the sofa. The entire play is about the disappointment, false hope and despair of an African-American family in Chicago. The ending is almost depressing, and I felt sorry for the family we were portraying.

As I glanced out into the audience, I spotted Gram in the front row just as she’d promised. She was all smiles as
she watched me work my magic. I could tell that she was proud. Preston sat next to her on the left—his eyes glued to the stage; probably thinking about how cute Asha was. The seat to Gram’s right belonged to my father. It was empty, but I didn’t sweat it. I finished my lines for the first scene and took a bow with the rest of my classmates as the curtains were drawn.

We all rushed backstage and quickly changed clothes in preparation for the next scene. I thought about my father; wondered why he hadn’t shown up. Before he’d left for work, I told him that there would be a ticket at the box office for him. He said he’d do all he could to make it. I was hopeful at first, but was discouraged when I didn’t see him sitting next to Gram in the audience. I wanted my dad to respect my love for the stage, and how could he do that if he never saw me act?

As I prepared myself to go back out there, I resigned myself to the fact that he probably wouldn’t show up. In order to get through the scenes, I had to block it from my mind. It was okay. Even though the visit from the basketball scout had me off course for a moment, I knew that acting was my true love. And with that, I knew I had to pursue it, whether my dad supported it or not. I had to do what was best for me—what made me happy.

Dressed in a white dress shirt, a black tie and black slacks, I went back onstage. I was confident about my lines and gave them everything I had. I was in the zone before long. We all bounced our lines off one another until the end of
the scene. We’d nailed it, and I was proud to be a part of the cast. As we took a bow, the audience stood and clapped. It was then that I noticed Dad in the front row—right next to Gram, smiling and clapping as if he’d lost his mind. It was a happy moment.

Marisol

Our
entire neighborhood stood in the middle of the street as our town car pulled up in front of Luz’s house. We smiled at each other, thinking that all of our friends and neighbors had gathered to welcome us home. They were proud of us, we thought, even though we wouldn’t be appearing in any films anytime soon. However, as it turned out, they weren’t gathered for us at all. As we stepped out of the car, it appeared that something serious was going on.

Stacking our luggage at the curb, our driver bid us farewell and took off in the opposite direction of the crowd. Luz and I approached the group, and I spotted Grace in the middle of it.

“Oh, my God. Mari! Luz!” Grace exclaimed and rushed our way. She gave us both a big hug.

A few people followed Grace, and with everyone trying to explain what was going on, I wasn’t able to understand anyone clearly.

“I can’t hear everyone at once,” I said.

Kristina emerged from the crowd. “Mari, it’s Nico. He has a gun!”

I wasn’t surprised about the gun; I’d seen Nico’s gun before I left for Los Angeles. I rushed toward the center of the crowd; found Nico standing there—pointing the gun at Diego.

“I’m tired of watching my back!” said Nico as his hand shook. “I don’t want to be a part of your gang, or any other gang!”

Diego stood there, staring at Nico; unmoved. He didn’t seem to be afraid of the gun that was pointed his way. Instead, he slapped Nico’s shaky hand, and the gun hit the pavement with a loud thud. The two of them raced for the gun, and before I knew it, they were rolling around on the ground. A shot rang out, and I was paralyzed. I couldn’t move. One of them had been shot—Nico or Diego—I wasn’t sure which one. I stood there with both hands covering my mouth.

What a way to be welcomed home.

In the back of the ambulance, Mami held on to Nico’s left hand. With an IV in his right hand, he was scared. I could tell. It was like the time when we thought the bogeyman was hiding in our closet, and we sat there with our backs against the wall waiting for him to show his ugly face. With fear in our eyes, we waited, but he never showed up. It was the same fear that I saw in Nico’s eyes
now. Tears crept down the side of his face. My vision was blurred with tears of my own as Poppy squeezed my hand.

I wasn’t sure which part of Nico’s body the bullet had struck, but I knew that he was losing blood. Quickly. I thought of Diego. There had been fear in his eyes, too. The gun had fired accidentally as the two of them had struggled with it. He stood there afterward, not knowing if he should run for his life or make sure that his old friend was alive. He had been torn.

“I wasn’t trying to shoot him,” he said and looked straight into my eyes as I held him in my arms, his blood smeared all over my white shirt.

I truly believed that Diego hadn’t meant for the gun to go off. But it had, and my brother was shot. And there was nothing that Diego or anyone else could do about it. As sirens rang out from a nearby neighborhood, he’d finally made the ultimate decision to take off running. He was gone before the paramedics and the police arrived. I could hear our friends and neighbors explaining the incident to the police and saw them pointing the officers in the direction that Diego had run.

Once at Lutheran Medical Center, my parents and I found ourselves pacing the floor of the intensive care unit’s waiting room. As my father sipped on coffee from a foam cup, my mother held on to her rosary beads and closed her eyes. I imagined that she was praying, which I thought was a pretty good idea. I’d prayed in the ambulance on the way
over, but mine hadn’t lasted quite that long. I slouched in my seat and checked my text messages that I hadn’t gotten around to looking at since Saturday. I’d been too busy wallowing in my own depression over the competition. But now as I sat there worrying about my brother, my troubles didn’t seem so bad.

Hey M…how did it go?
Jasmine’s text read.

I didn’t make it. Todd did.

Did you have fun?

Lots.

That’s all that matters.

Jasmine was right. All that mattered was that I had a great time. I got to spend the weekend in L.A. I went to a great Hollywood party—teen party, that is. I toured Universal Studios and got to dance in front of a real live film producer. After looking at it that way, I knew that I hadn’t handled it right. Here Jasmine was on the other end of my phone, and she’d missed out on all of that and still had a great attitude.

How’s UR dad?

Recovering.

Good news!!

I quit smoking!

Seriously?

Yes!

That was great news. Since the day I met Jasmine, I’d hoped that she would quit that terrible habit.

Why did u quit?

My dad almost died. No mas. Didn’t kno that smoking could cause heart disease.

Proud of U.

Where R U?

Lutheran. My brother was shot.??

Crazy day.

I’m coming over there!

I knew that Jasmine was serious when she showed up at the hospital, her little brother Xavier in tow. She gave both my parents a hug and then hugged me. The two of us sat there and got caught up on everything. Just talking to her helped me to take my mind off Nico, if only for a moment. That is, until the gray-haired doctor in a white coat stepped through the automatic doors and approached my parents. He had news about Nico.

“Mr. and Mrs. Garcia?

“Yes,” Poppy stood. Gave the doctor a firm handshake.

“Your son is going to be okay.”

Those words did my heart good; calmed my fears.

“The bullet missed his lung and we think that we’ll be able to get to it with ease. But we need to act quickly. I’d like to send him into emergency surgery right away…”

I exhaled. My brother was going to be fine. I guessed God had heard Mami’s and my prayers, and I was grateful.

Marisol

Luz
put the last little curl in my hair while Kristina applied my makeup. I felt like a princess as I sat there in my no-nonsense little black dress with the halter-style neck. Jesse and I had decided on red and black as our colors. After much begging and agreeing to bring my American history grade back up, I was allowed to attend the fall social. My parents actually agreed that Jesse could pick me up at our house.

After Nico’s brush with death, my parents were feeling a lot more merciful. My mother had finally loosened her grip a little, and I was glad. I hated that it had taken my brother’s injury to make her more easygoing. I also hated that he’d had to endure the pain of a gunshot wound, simply because he didn’t want to join a gang. How many ways did he have to say it before it registered with Diego and his posse? They’d forced his hand and caused him to think that his only means for survival was to carry a gun. A gun that almost took his life. I believed that because he hadn’t backed down to Diego that he’d earned the respect
that he deserved. So, it seemed that the gun had also saved his life.

His body was healing fine after the surgery. But that was more than I could say for his mouth.

“I don’t care how much makeup you put on her, she’s still going to look like the Wicked Witch of the West,” he said, sticking his head into my bedroom.

“Shut up, Nico!” said Grace.

“He knows that you look good, Chica,” Luz said. “That’s why he’s got his nose all up in your bedroom.”

“Why is he even in here?” asked Grace.

“Isn’t there something you should be doing?” asked Kristina.

“Um…in case you haven’t noticed, I can barely walk,” Nico said. “Otherwise, I’d be outside whipping your brother in a game of hoops.”

“Can you tell Mami to come here, Nico?” I asked.

“Mami!” he yelled. “Mari wants you!”

“I could’ve done that,” I told him.

“I hope you didn’t expect me to hobble down that flight of stairs and bring her up here,” he said.

“No. Of course not.” I gave him a fake grin.

I heard Mami’s footsteps in the stairwell, and soon she appeared in the doorway. “Look at you,
mi hija!
You look beautiful.”

“You think so?” I asked her.

“I know so,” she said. “Now you should get a move on. Your date’s here.”

Grace, Kristina, Luz and I all rushed over to my bedroom window and looked outside. Everyone wanted to catch of glimpse of Jesse Lucas in his tuxedo, or at least a glimpse of his car. A beautiful, silver Mercedes was parked in front of my house, while its handsome driver was downstairs being interrogated by my father. I needed to go rescue him.

“What’s he wearing?” I asked Mami.

“A very nice black tuxedo, but…” She hesitated. “But what?”

“He’s wearing sneakers…with a tux,” she said and frowned. “And he’s wearing a silly black hat on his head.”

“He’s wearing a hat?”

“What kind of hat?” Grace asked with a frown.

“What’s that silly hat called?” She thought for a moment. “A fedora.”

“He’s wearing a fedora?” I asked.

I had to see this. I took one last glance at myself in the mirror and then straightened my dress. Headed for the stairs; took them slowly down—careful not to trip over my feet. At the bottom of the stairs, my date stood there with a wide grin on his face. Instead of a carnation, he held a single, long-stemmed rose in his hand.

“Wow,” he said when he saw me.

“What did you do with my date?” I asked Drew.

I couldn’t help but smile; I was so glad to see him. With the competition and all the drama that had gone on with Nico, I hadn’t seen Drew much. And I missed him. He looked handsome in his black tuxedo, black high-top
Converses and black fedora. I couldn’t help but stare. It had been a great compliment—being asked to the dance by the most gorgeous guy in school, Jesse Lucas. But all I really wanted in the first place was for Drew Bishop to ask me. “I
am
your date.” He smiled.

“Where’s Jesse? Did you stuff him in the trunk of your car or something?” I had to ask.

“I told him that the dance had been postponed until next week,” Drew said and laughed. “I’m kidding. I was a gentleman and asked if he minded if I took you to the dance.”

“You did?”

“No, but who cares about all that? You’re stuck with me, kid.” He handed me the rose and held his arm out for me to take hold of it. “You ready or what?”

I feared that I would never find out the truth about my original date.

“Yes, I’m ready,” I said.

I gave Mami a kiss on the cheek; then Poppy. “I love you both.”

“Drew and I have already discussed your curfew,” Poppy stated as he gave Drew a stare. “You remember, right, Drew?”

“Yes, sir. I do.”

“So this is the infamous Drew.” Luz pushed her way past Kristina and Grace. She held her hand out to him. “I’m Luz, Mari’s best friend.”

Drew took her hand in his. “Good to meet you.”

“He’s a cutie,” said Grace.

“Does he have any brothers?” Kristina asked.

“Let me get a picture.” Mami grabbed her disposable camera and started snapping shots of us.

“It’s time to go,” I said to Drew and then grabbed his arm and ushered him out the door.

I couldn’t wait to get inside the beautiful silver car. I pretended that it was my chariot and I was Cinderella. Drew held the door of the Mercedes open for me. I stepped inside and sunk into the leather seat. As soon as he started the engine, an old-school rap song by Doug E. Fresh filled the car. I listened to the words as Drew slowly pulled the car away from the curb.

“Is this your car?” I asked.

“Yes. I call her Delilah,” he said.

“Delilah?” I asked. “You’re so funny.”

“I know.”

He took his hat off, laid it on the backseat of the car. “Mind if I let the top down?”

“Now?” I asked. “It’s cold outside!”

“It’s fifty-two degrees.”

Although fifty-two degrees was a lot warmer than most fall days in New York, it was still pretty chilly. But I didn’t care. Being with Drew managed to warm my heart. The car’s convertible top came down, and my hair began to blow in the wind.

“Luz is gonna kill me about my hair,” I told him.

“She’ll get over it.”

Drew turned up the volume on the stereo. As some song called “La-Di-Da-Di” began to play, Drew bounced in his seat. As he merged the car onto the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, I-278, I knew that tonight would not be like any other night in my life.