Fixin’ Tyrone (11 page)

“Nothing,” Mia said. She gathered his papers and photographs and handed them back to him. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to do that.” She rubbed her face. “I hope you don’t think I’m some
crazy
or something.”

Eric smiled. “Mia, I understand exactly how you felt. I’ve been dealing with Shareefa for a long time. She can definitely make you feel crazy. She broke my windshield that night, after you left, and I still don’t—”

Mia nearly choked on her water. She put a hand to her face. “
Ugk
, I—I’m sorry.
Excuse me?
”

“You all right?”

She nodded, her eyes watering.

“Um, Shareefa, she broke my windshield after you left. She swore up and down she didn’t do it, but she’s done it twice already. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Mia cleared her throat and managed to get a breath of air down. “I’m sorry,” she said, and took another sip of water.

Eric smiled. “I thought I was going to lose you again,” he joked.

“Eric,” she said, “Shareefa didn’t break your windshield. You didn’t call the police on her, did you?”

“No,” he said. His brow furrowed. “I was tired and didn’t feel like staying up to wait for them. Plus I didn’t want my deductible to go up again. I just cursed her out and bought another one. Why do you think Shareefa didn’t break my windshield?”

Mia took a deep breath. “Well, remember what I did to your phone?” she asked. “When I was still mad at you . . .”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”

“I’m sorry,” Mia said. She grabbed her purse and produced a checkbook. “I want to pay for it. The phone, too.”

“
You
broke my windshield?”

“Yes, Eric. I’m sorry. I—I don’t know what came over me. How much was it?” She started writing the check.

“Stop,” Eric said. “Look at me.
How
did you break my windshield?”

“Well, I threw a brick at first, then I used my tire iron.”

“
You
broke my windshield?”

“Yes, Eric.
I
broke your windshield. Do you need me to get it in the newspapers or what?”

He smiled. “You must really like me.”

“I must have really
hated
you,” Mia corrected. “But I was out of line. I can’t believe I did that. No one can.”

“I don’t want your money,” Eric decided.

“You’re taking it,” Mia said. “I’m a grown woman. I pay for my mistakes. How much was it? The phone, too.” Her pen hovered over the checkbook.

Eric leaned back in his chair. “You know, when Shareefa said, ‘
I don’t know. Maybe yo other bitch broke it!
’’ I wouldn’t have believed her in a million years.”

Mia smiled. “I hope you didn’t let that bitch call me a bitch.”

* * *

Eric finally gave her a price, and Mia wrote a check for her damages. The food came shortly afterwards, and they actually had a nice time together. Eric told her about his whole family, every cousin it seemed, and Mia shared a bit of her lineage, too. She also told him about TC’s father coming home from prison. Eric was a bit concerned at first, but Mia assured him the jobless, convicted felon had no chance of a late-round comeback. She did not tell him about the ass-grabbing incident, though, and certainly not about Tyrone’s lofty declaration of love.

Standing next to Mia’s car later on, Eric hugged her and kissed her good night, and it was good, but also a little different.

GAME FOR DAYS

After such a tumultuous start, Mia thought her whole week would be off-kilter, but it turned out pretty nice. With her questions resolved about the player—who turned out not to be a player—she was able to exhibit her trademark confidence.

Tyrone called almost every day to inquire about his son, but his true intentions were clear. He always wanted to chat longer after they were done discussing TC.

“So, uh, what you doing?”

“I’m cooking, Tyrone. I’ll call you later. Maybe we could set something up for the weekend.”

“What you cooking?”

“I’m busy, Tyrone.”

“All right. I just want to see my boy.”

“Okay, but I’m working late the next two days.”

“You can call me when you get through eating if you want. I’ll be woke.”

* * *

Mia was pretty sure Tyrone only wanted to see his son half as much as he wanted to see her, but she only felt comfortable with monitored visits, so that was unavoidable. She allowed him to on Thursday, and Tyrone showed up at 5:30 sharp, as dashing as ever, with gifts in hand. The gifts were actually from Family Dollar. It said so on the bag he toted them in, but the kids fussed over the trinkets as if they’d come from Bloomingdale’s.

Tyrone sat on the couch with TC on one side and Mica on the other. Mia sat across from them on the love seat. Today Tyrone had on khaki Dickies with a blue golf shirt. The shirt had no designs except for the Polo insignia on the left breast. He was still strikingly handsome, even though he had fresh stubble under his nose and on his chin. He wore a goatee when they were dating, and it looked like he was growing it out again.

He had two gifts for his son: The first was a cheap version of the Hungry Hippo game. The second was a Hot Wheels car Tyrone said was a 1970 Chevelle SS.

“I’m going to bring you a different car every time I see you,” he promised. “You’re going to have the biggest collection in Overbrook.”

“What if you bring me one I already have?” TC asked.

“I’ll just take it back and get you another one,” Tyrone said. “If you think you got
this
one, let me know. I’ll take it back right now.”

“No, I don’t have a Chevelle. I got four Camaros and three Corvettes. I think I have a Charger, but no Chevelle.”

Mica’s gift was a figurine from the Bratz toy line. The doll was dark-skinned with full lips, just like Mica.

“Don’t think I forgot about you, lil’ Mama.” Tyrone handed it to her, and Mica glowed like it was her birthday.

Mia watched them, wondering if Crystal hadn’t picked up the wrong kids from school. Mica and TC were known to balk at dollar-store toys that required neither assembly nor batteries, but they fussed over Tyrone’s presents like they were orphans.

“I wanna get you a case to keep all your cars in,” he told his son. “I saw one at WalMart. It was big, built like a suitcase, kinda. It had a plastic front, so you can see all your cars, and each one fit into a little slot.”

“I have something like that,” TC said. “It’s small, though. Like a lunch box.”

“How many cars does it hold?” Tyrone asked.

“Um, I don’t know. Maybe twenty.”

“I’ma get you a bigger one,” Tyrone said. “One you’ll be able to keep
all
your cars in.”

“Cool.”

“Let me see what you got again so I can make sure I don’t bring the wrong one next time.”

“Okay. Come on!”

The three of them scampered off, without asking her permission this time, and Mia was left in the living room alone. Tyrone looked over his shoulder and shot her a wink as they passed. Mia rolled her eyes at him and got up to see what her sister was doing.

Crystal was on her computer updating her MySpace page.

“Tyrone still here?”

Mia nodded. “In there with the kids.”

“He look good today,” Crystal said.

“How you know?”

“I peeked out there when he was giving them they toys.”

“Didn’t even see you.”

“That’s ’cause you was staring all up in his face,” Crystal said.

Mia sighed. “I don’t know why you keep doing that.”

“I don’t know why you keep denying it. You know you like that boy.”

“What is it about Tyrone that makes you think I want him?”

“He’s—”

“
Fine
,” Mia cut her off. “You’re stuck on that. Yeah, he’s cute.” She looked around to make sure no one was coming. “He’s got a nice body. Every brother coming out of the pen looks like that. Tyrone ain’t special.”

“He’s TC’s daddy.”

“So? TC’s
nine
. We’ve been doing just fine without his daddy.”

“He
wants
to raise his son, though. A lot of niggas ain’t trying to do that. He wants to raise Mica, too. You
know
a lot of niggas ain’t trying to raise
another
man’s kid.”

“Of course I know. I’m thirty-two and single. But just ’cause Tyrone wants to do it doesn’t automatically make him the man for the job.”

“What do you have against him?” Crystal wanted to know.

“He’s a
thug
, Crystal. That’s the end right there. I don’t date
thugs
, and he’s a thug. He’s a hoodlum, an ex-con, a jobless convicted felon who stays with his mama.”

“But what if he wanna do right? You’ll date him if he change?”

“Tyrone can’t do right.”

“No, for real,” Crystal said. “What if he really wants to do right? Would you take him then?”

There was no need in considering that. “Tyrone’s not gonna do right. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to get a good job with a felony on his record. Anyway, I got a boyfriend who’s already doing right.”

“Yeah,” Crystal said. “He’s boring, though.”

“You mean
stable
?”

“Whatever.”

“Speaking of boyfriends, when I am going to meet yours?”

Crystal grinned. “You wanna see him tomorr—wait, he goes to the studio on Friday. You can meet him Saturday if you want.”

“Saturday’s cool. I’m going out with Eric that night, though. Do you mind watching the kids?”

“Can Sydney stay over while you’re gone?”

“Overnight?”

“Naw, just for a couple hours. Why? You planning on staying
overnight
with Eric?”

“I might,” Mia said with a slight smile.

“I’ma tell
Tyrone
.”

“Speaking of, I’d better go check on them,” Mia said. “He might be in there teaching my babies gang signs!”

* * *

Tyrone was not teaching the babies gang signs. In her son’s room, they were playing some type of game that involved cars, dolls, and a few stuffed animals. On his hands and knees, Tyrone looked as much like a kid as TC and Mica. Mia backed out of the doorway without them noticing her.

* * *

At seven-thirty, it was time for the kids to eat. Tyrone hugged and kissed them both, and Mia walked him outside—keeping her distance in case he tried to goose her again.

Tyrone took a step off her porch then turned to face her. “You look good, Mia.”

She wore baggy canvas shorts and a loose-fitting T-shirt. She didn’t think she looked in any way remarkable, but Tyrone stared at her like she was dressed for the ball.

“You look good, too, Tyrone. I see you’re trying to grow your beard out.”

He smiled and rubbed his chin. “Actually, I’m gonna keep it smooth. They won’t let you grow a moustache in the pen. I didn’t like it at first, but after a while I thought I looked pretty good with a clean face. What do you think?”

“It’s fine,” Mia said. “Either way.”

“Which way do you like the most?”

“I’m not that concerned with it,” she said. “I guess you look better without it.”

“I’ma shave then.”

Mia shrugged.

“Oh, I forgot something.” Tyrone reached into his pocket and produced three $20 bills. “Here. I was meaning to give you this.”

Mia looked at the money but didn’t reach for it. “What’s that for?”

He shrugged. “I figure I should help you out a little bit if I can.”

“You mean
child support
?”

“Yeah. I guess. I don’t really want to call it that, though. I don’t wanna be put on no child support.”

“Do you have a job?”

“I been doing a little work with my uncle. He gave me a hundred dollars today. I bought them toys with some, gave my mom thirty. The rest is yours.”

“I don’t want that,” Mia said.

“Why not?”

“’Cause you just got out Monday. I’m sure you need it.”

“I put my son’s needs in front of mine.”

Unexpectedly, his words made Mia feel warm all over.

“That’s nice, Tyrone. It really is, but I can’t take your last.”

“Why?”

“I don’t need it.”