Harlem Girl Lost (19 page)

“What the hell is going on here?” he yelled.

Tommy stumbled out of the room, rubbing his groin.

“What the fuck happened here?” Birdie demanded, staring at him.

“He tried to rape me!” Silver sobbed.

Birdie placed a comforting arm around Silver and looked over at Tommy.

“The bitch is lying.”

“You're a lying bastard! He came in the bathroom after me and pulled out his fucking dick.”

Birdie threw Tommy a distraught look. “Is that true, Tommy?”

Tommy shook his head in dismissal. “She came on to me.”

Not believing her ears, Silver frowned. “You lying son of a bitch!” She turned to Birdie. “Look at my bedroom door—he kicked it in.”

Birdie walked to the door to examine it. “What happened to the door, Tommy?”

“Bitch, what did I tell you? The bitch came on to me. Now get ya ass in the room and let me talk to you!” Birdie put the bags down on the table and followed Tommy into their room.

Silver went back to her room to finish dressing, and thought she heard the two arguing. Several minutes later Birdie stepped into her room.

“Silver … this thing with you and Tommy is driving me crazy. Ever since you got here, things have been … you know. First that thing with the shooting, now this thing with Tommy … Well, it's just becoming too much for me to handle.”

Silver was perplexed. “Auntie Birdie, what are you trying to say?”

Birdie spoke softly. “Well, me and Tommy thought that it might be best if … you know, you stay somewhere else until you go away to college.”

Silver couldn't believe her ears. “You gonna put me out over that nigger who just tried to rape me?”

Birdie shook his head. “No, that's not it.” He pulled out a roll of money. “No, we just think it would be best if you find a room or stay at a hotel for a while. You know, until you go off to college.”

Never in a million years would Silver have thought things would ever come to this.
Anybody but Birdie
, she thought with a broken heart. She could only look at him and shake her head. She stood and went to her dresser while Birdie followed her.

“Silver, don't look at it like that, baby.”

She retrieved a picture frame but left everything else where it was.

“Oh, Silver, you don't have to leave tonight, baby.” But Silver continued toward the door. “At least take the money, Silver … please!”

Still silent, Silver opened the front door.

“Silver, wait!” Birdie implored.

She stopped when he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Silver, I'm sorry you feel this way … but at least take your clothes and your other important things.”

She turned and looked Birdie straight in the eyes. “Auntie Birdie, I already took the most important thing to me.” At Birdie's confused expression, Silver held up an old picture of her mother, Birdie, and herself in happier times. Birdie stared at it, his eyes welling with tears. He attempted to hug her, but Silver quickly left, closing the front door softly behind her. Tears ran down Silver's cheeks as she walked hastily through the mean, dark streets of Harlem.

THE REALS

S
ilver had walked nearly an hour before it dawned on her that she was now homeless. A cold shiver raced through her entire body, as at each corner she heard the honking of horns from men seeking her attention, but she did her best to ignore them. In spite of this, not once did she even consider going back to her grandmother and giving her the satisfaction of saying “I told you so.” She thought of Missy, but decided against going there, knowing her living situation. She knew Missy would have held her down, but she didn't want her catching beef with her moms over it.

She decided it would be best if Missy held her down in the daytime or gave her something to eat from time to time. She reasoned that everything would be okay by tomorrow, since she could always get a job at Burger King or McDonald's or something. That way, she'd have enough for a cheap room to lay her head for the summer until she got her scholarship in hand. She just had to make it through the night and get the fuck off these streets. She decided to walk to 125th Street and catch the D train, which she could ride all night, since it went
down to Coney Island in Brooklyn, then back up to 205th Street in the Bronx. It was the longest train route in the city, so she wouldn't have to keep transferring as much. Besides, she reasoned, she might be able to get some sleep—with one eye open, of course! She reached the train station, looked around for police, and hopped the turnstile.

Surprisingly, she got through the night without any incident, and woke when the conductor yelled, “Last stop!” She was in Coney Island, and opened her eyes to bright sun shining through the train windows. Rubbing her eyes, she saw the huge Ferris wheel and smiled. She had never been to an amusement park before, but it was just as she'd imagined it would be.

She began to plan her day. The first orders of business would be a shower, clothes, and a job. She could take a shower and borrow clothes from Missy, since they were the same size, and then she would go to 34th Street and apply for a cashier's position at a few of the dozens of fast-food restaurants down there.

At Missy's house, Silver did not divulge to Missy what had happened with her and Tommy at Birdie's house. She simply told her that Birdie had tried to keep her on lockdown and she wasn't having that again. Silver knew that if she told Missy what really had happened, Missy would be waiting in the building for Tommy with a straight razor and surely would cut his throat.

Missy asked her where was she staying, but Silver lied and told her that she was staying with some distant relatives in the Bronx. She confided in Missy that these relatives were only
giving her a place to sleep; she had to feed herself, and she would need to use Missy's telephone and address when she went looking for a job.

Missy replied without hesitation. “Bitch, now you know you ain't got no problems. I'm just upset that you ain't come here first, ‘cause I would ve held you down, win, lose, or draw!”

Silver smiled but left it at that. Explaining anything further would have complicated matters. Missy made Silver some bacon and eggs and then gave her twenty dollars. Silver headed out and spent the entire day downtown, filling out applications for any position that she could get. Now all she could do was wait.

After a week
of Silver spending her days at Missy's house and riding the trains at night, Missy's mother began to notice her presence every day, as well as the missing rations from the refrigerator. Missy simply told her to mind her business, which created an argument. This was the last thing Silver wanted, so she just started stopping by for the occasional sandwich and to see if she'd gotten any job calls. While Silver was in her apartment, though, Missy's mother purposely sat in the kitchen and monitored the refrigerator activities. Seeing this, Silver often left without eating anything at all. After a couple of days like this, she simply stopped going back altogether because of the strange looks Missy's mother began giving her.

As the days passed, Silver grew so hungry at times that she began getting headaches. She walked by Burger King's garbage area and watched other homeless people rummage through the bags and pull out discarded burgers or fries. Every
night she prayed for the nerve to grab a couple of burgers also, but she could never bring herself to do it. But after several days on the street, pride was no longer an option, and she found herself down on her knees with the best of them as she scavenged through the trash after closing. She also became quite a good thief by stealing twenty-five-cent Little Debbie's and quarter waters from the bodegas.

In a matter of a month, Silver acquired the survival skills of a seasoned transient, and after being on the street so long, she even stopped noticing the men honking and hawking at her. She would yell, “Leave me alone!” at the top of her lungs and simply walk the other way. But for the real persistent ones, she would yell scornfully, “Mister, I'm only thirteen years old! You like baby pussy or something?” That would be that. Little did she realize that her hygiene also fell off, and her unshaven armpits started to reek of BO to the tenth power. Her nails became caked with so much dirt that they looked like those of auto mechanics. She stopped wearing underwear after she had her period. Her red Reeboks, which she wore sockless, were falling apart at the seams. Nothing mattered to her anymore, her primary focus now being only food and shelter. She made friends with some runaways who hung out at Times Square, and they told her about a place called Covenant House that sheltered and fed teen runaways. She kept putting it off because she'd heard rumors about the pimps who stood outside the complex to kidnap some of them and make them sex slaves.

One night, drop-dead tired and beyond famished, she found herself walking all the way uptown to the train station on 145th Street. Police were stationed inside at both the 125
^th
Street and 135th Street stations, so she had to troop it to the 145th Street stop to hop the train. So tired she was virtually sleepwalking, and ready to pass out from lack of food, she barely heard a car honk at her. As usual, she paid it no mind, but the car continued creeping behind her, and then the driver came to a complete halt. A middle-aged man with a soft face wearing a brown suit and tie jumped out. He stepped in front of her calmly.

“Young lady, I would like to—”

“Get away from me!” Silver yelled.

The man, caught off guard, nervously threw up his hands to calm her down, but to no avail. Silver grew more agitated and yelled louder. “Get the fuck away from me. I'm not a fucking crackhead!”

Passersby watched the scene, but ultimately minded their own business. Scenes like this were common at this time of night because female crack addicts regularly beat their tricks and ran off with their money. Their victims sometimes caught up with them, and when they did, they wanted to crack the hoes’ fucking skulls.

“Young lady, please … My name is Reverend R. C. Davis. I am only here to see if you need any help.”

Silver calmed down when she saw a Bible in his hand.

Voices from a
loose circle of teens playing cee-lo a short distance away seemed loud in the night.

“Come on, nigga, scared money don't make no money.” Another guffawed. “Please, nigga, money don't make me. I
make money, hoe!” He tossed dice and aced out. He stood up, frustrated, and his eyes caught the duo across the street. “Yo, peep this shit,” said Kevin, and pointed. “Yo, ain't that that old nigger Pookie running game on them crackhead bitches again?”

Looking up, Vince said, “Hell, yeah, that's that bitch-ass nigger.” He shook his head. “That stupid motherfucker don't do nothing but come out at night and trick with them dirty-ass crack bitches!”

“Yo, I heard that nigger be beatin’ the shit out of them bitches’ ass and then take the pussy!” said Kevin. “Yo, that bitch musta just started smokin’, ‘cause she still look kinda good.” He turned to another man, who was hidden in the darkness. “Yo, Chance, you see that shit poppin’ off?”

Chance lowered the magazine and glanced toward where the couple stood.

“Yo, fuck watching some crackheads, nigger, and roll the fucking dice!” Hollis screamed.

Looking in Silver's
frightened eyes, he reassured her again. “Young lady, there is no reason to be alarmed. I'm just trying to help.” He put his arms down and looked nervously across the street. “Like I said, my name is Reverend Davis, with the Greater First Baptist Church. We provide assistance to people in need of temporary shelter and a soup kitchen to get something to eat.” Not missing a beat, he continued. “Now, it's not much, but at least the food is hot and the beds are clean.” He extended his hand toward his car.

Silver searched his face, and then regarded the modest Ford sedan with a sticker that read “Jesus Saves” on the bumper. “Thank you,” she said softly. “ I could use some help.”

The Reverend proceeded to open the door for her, and nearly broke his neck hurrying back to his own door. He smiled heartily, turned on the ignition, and drove off. Silver looked around the interior and noticed another Bible on the dashboard and a little figurine of the Virgin Mary mounted to the dash. The warmth and soothing sound of Shirley Caesar from the tape deck put her at ease.

Finally, Silver thought, someone was really trying to help her without wanting something in return. In an instant, she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Silver grew immediately
alarmed when she opened her eyes to complete darkness. The good Reverend had slowly pulled into a darkened area off the West Side Highway near 125th Street. She heard a giggle from the driver's seat and snapped her head in its direction, only to see the man nude from the waist down and smiling as he masturbated. Fear instantly jolted her to reality as she stared at his eyes, glistening in the darkness. She turned and felt for the door handle, but it had been removed. His smile now turned into a deranged scowl, and he slapped her hard across the face. In a panic, she attempted to jump into the backseat to seek refuge and an exit, but he grabbed her by the neck with his large hands and slammed her back into her seat. She froze as he rubbed his genitals faster and faster, saliva running down his purplish blubbery lips. Her mind raced as
she tried to think of a plan, but suddenly he punched her in the mouth. Bleeding and cringing in pain, Silver threw up her hands in submission.

“Okay, okay, mister, don't hit me no more. I'll give you some—please just don't hit me no more.” She tried to fool him the way she had done with Tommy—but this wasn't Tommy. Anger flashed across his face, and he began to hit her with a barrage of punches.

“No, no, no! That's not how it's done! You are supposed to be afraid of me! Now I can't fuckin’ cum!”

A shiver raced down Silver's spine as she stared into the crying man's face. He was crazy!

He breathed heavily and looked at her with disgust. “I should kill you right now for ruining it!”