If I Were Your Boyfriend (3 page)

"
ake up, Keysha, we're almost there," said Grandmother Katie. I opened my eyes just as she turned off Main Street and onto Church Street. I stretched out my body and released a loud yawn. She and I had been driving several hours from my dad's home to her house in the country. I tried to stay awake and keep her company during the long journey, but once the landscape changed from picture-perfect suburban homes to farmland, barns and smelly cows, it was all too easy to fall asleep from visual boredom.

  "Where are we?" I asked as I brought myself back from the land of the sleeping.

  "We're just about there. I live on this street," she said as we drove past a neighborhood playground. There was a Little League football game going on and I briefly watched as a young boy ran about ten yards for a touchdown.

  "This is it," she announced as she brought her car to a hard stop directly in front of her home.

  "It's a beautiful home," I complimented as I studied the yellow two-story frame house. The white picket fence, which was in need of a fresh coat of paint, outlined the boundary of the property. I noticed the porch swing that was swaying back and forth and could hear it squeaking.

  "I just love this time of the year. It's so pretty to see the season change from summer to fall," she said as I studied several auburn leaves billowing downward from trees that were around her property.

  "I pay the young man who lives a few doors down to rake up the yard for me. He does a good job and he's reliable. Next year he'll be heading off to college and I'll have to find a new person who is willing to do the work for me." She paused for a long moment, so I turned my attention to her. She was smiling at me as if I were the most precious thing she'd ever seen. Her smile, her eyes and her spirit made me feel warm all over.

  "Well, come on, let's get all of your belongings inside." Grandmother Katie pressed the trunk release button and we both got out of the car. I removed my belongings from the trunk and followed Grandmother Katie up the pathway toward the house. I wrestled with my suitcase as I pulled it up the front porch steps one at a time. Once on the porch I looked to my left through a window and saw Smokey, who was Grandmother Katie's black Labrador retriever. We talked about her dog during the journey to her house. Smokey had tucked his head beneath the drapes and was greeting us with loud barks.

  "Hey, Smokey." Grandmother Katie waved to her dog as if he were a real person. Smokey responded to her greeting by whining and then barking again.

  "It's okay, Keysha, he's not going to bite you. If anything, he'll try to lick on you."

  "Being licked by a dog would not be cool," I said. As soon as she placed her door key in the lock tumbler, Smokey barked even louder. When the door finally opened, Smokey rushed up to her, wagging his tail, wiggling his body and sniffing her clothing.

  "Did you miss me, Smokey?" she asked as he petted him on his head.

  "He loves it when you pet him," she said. "I'm afraid that I've spoiled him."

  Smokey came over to me and I let him sniff my hands, my clothes and my luggage. Once he approved of me, he rushed back inside the house. I listened as his paws clicked against the hardwood floor.

  As I entered her home the first thing I noticed was all of the photos on the wall. There were pictures everywhere of her, my grandfather, my dad, her parents and my grandfather's parents. One entire corner of the room felt like a visual history book. I was about to ask some questions, but she interrupted my train of thought.

  "Bring your suitcase along and follow me. I'll show you the room where you'll be sleeping." I followed her up the wooden staircase that groaned the moment we began climbing.

  "You can sleep in here," she said as she opened a door to one of the bedrooms. I wheeled my suitcase to the center of the room and plopped down on the bed. The yellow paint on the walls was a little too bright for my taste. There was an old dresser in the room, a desk with a sewing machine and a built-in bookshelf on the far wall. The lime-green bedding complemented the curtains and the pictures of fruit hanging on the walls. The room was very clean. In fact, it was too clean and looked as if no one had slept in it for a long time.

  "Well, is the room okay with you?" she asked. I turned and smiled at her.

  "Yes, the room is perfect," I answered. I then stood up and moved over to the bookshelf to see what was there. All of the books appeared to be about sewing and knitting. They were definitely books for a grandmother.

  "Well, go ahead and get yourself settled in," she said. "I'm going to head downstairs to let Smokey out in the backyard and take care of any accidents he had while I was gone. Come on down the back stairs when you're done. The stairs lead to the kitchen and that's where I'll be."

  "Okay," I said as I moved toward the window to see what was outside. When I drew back the curtain, I could see the park and the football field. The game was still in progress but not for long because I noticed that the scoreboard said that there was only two minutes left in the fourth quarter. As I moved away from the window, I noticed Smokey sniffing around a tree. I thought he was about to unearth something, but I quickly realized that he was only searching for the perfect spot to raise one of his legs.

  It took me about twenty minutes to unpack all of my belongings and explore the other rooms. Once I'd finished snooping around I did as Grandmother Katie asked and walked down the back staircase and into the kitchen. I found her sitting at the table with an assortment of vegetables on a silver tray. She'd just placed a carrot in the vegetable shredder and I watched as the machine spewed out long cords of carrots into a stainless steel bowl.

  "Hey, what are you making?" I asked.

  "A big salad for dinner. Have a seat," she said, nodding at the empty chair on the opposite side of the table.

  I took a seat and looked around the kitchen, which was very clean, organized and built for cooking fabulous meals. It was nothing like the kitchen in the small studio apartment I lived in with my mother. I focused my attention on the platter of food. Grandmother Katie was making a salad that included cucumbers, lettuce, green and black olives, mushrooms, beets, cheese and sunflower seeds.

  "Do you know how to cook?" asked Grandmother Katie.

  "I know how to cook for myself," I answered.

  "What do you cook well?" she asked.

  "I'm pretty good at making tacos, spaghetti and my lasagna is the bomb, or so I've been told."

  "Well, I think I'll let you cook tomorrow evening's dinner, then," she said as she adjusted the setting on the food shredder before placing the cucumber through the slicing mechanism.

  "It's been a long time since I've made anything," I admitted. "I'll need some help." I smiled at her. She smiled back and the warmth of her smile made me feel loved the way the sun loves a flower.

  "Well, that's what I'm here for, to help—I want to help you, Keysha."

  "I shouldn't need that much help, only—"

  Grandmother Katie interrupted me. "That's not what I meant, baby. I want to help you get through the trouble you've gotten yourself into."

  I stopped smiling and craned my neck down toward the floor in shame. I didn't want to talk about my pending court case, my suspension from school or my strained friendship with Liz Lloyd.

  "Hold your head up, honey. There is no need to feel as if I'm attacking or judging you. I just want to listen to you, understand what's going on and offer suggestions to help you make better choices, okay? You've got a good head on your shoulders. You just have to use it to its full potential."

  I wanted to hold my head up and look her in the eye but I couldn't because I felt as if I'd caused everyone a lot of grief over my mistake.

  "Everyone makes mistakes, Keysha. It's just a part of living and that's a true fact. Even some of the most intelligent people can have a lapse in judgment from time to time."

  "Yeah, but the mistake I've made is a colossal one."

  "Oh, honey, your mistake isn't all that bad," she attempted to assure me.

  "How can you say that? I have a court case. People think I'm a drug dealer and I might go to jail for it."

  "Well, are you a drug dealer?" Grandmother Katie asked.

  "No," I answered.

  "Then as I see it, the only mistakes you've made are selecting a bad friend and bowing down to peer pressure, and anyone can make that mistake."

  "Well, to me they feel like the mistakes of the century," I said, releasing a nervous sigh.

  "Do me a favor and boil some eggs for me. I want to slice up some eggs to put in our salad."

  I stood up and went to the refrigerator and removed a carton of eggs.

  "How many should I boil?" I asked.

  "Four should do it. You can use the pot that's sitting there on the stove," said Grandmother Katie.

  I removed the eggs, poured water in the pot and placed the pot over the flame. For a brief moment I stared down at the white eggs floating in the water.

  "You know, your friend Liz may be jealous of you." Grandmother Katie pulled me out of my trance.

  "I don't see for what," I said, sitting back down.

  "It doesn't take much for a person to be jealous of you. Jealousy is an ugly trait and can show its hideous face over something as simple as a new outfit. I think young folks call jealous people 'the haters' these days."

  I laughed.

  "Look at you, trying to be all hip and stuff." We both laughed together for a moment, but then Grandmother Katie began to share some of her wisdom.

  "You know, when I was fourteen, there was a girl who had a problem with me even though we were friends. Her name was Willie Mae Smith."

  "Willie what?" I laughed at the name.

  "Willie Mae. It's an old southern name."

  "What did she look like?" I asked.

  "I remember her skin being very dark and beautiful, but I think she viewed her pretty dark skin as a cruse. Her hair was short, she was overweight and her family was extremely poor. Willie Mae's mom attended my father's church and that's where I met her. We became friends and were always with each other."

  "So, why was Willie Mae jealous of you?" I asked.

  "You're going to laugh when I tell you this but Willie Mae couldn't articulate her words or express herself the way I could."

  "So she was jealous of you because you could talk better? That seems dumb," I said.

  "To you it may seem that way but to her it was a huge deal. Willie Mae's problem stemmed from her lack of understanding. She always got her words twisted around. She would say things like 'I'm going to be a confessional when I grow up.'"

  "What in the world is a confessional?" I asked.

  "You're missing my point. She really meant to say the word 'professional.'"

  I cracked up laughing when I heard that.

  "I would laugh at her too but I also tried to help by correcting her. I was always correcting her, speaking up for her and finishing her sentences for her. Especially when we were around other people."

  "So, how did you find out she was jealous of you or had a problem with you? It sounds as if you guys were good friends."

  "Willie Mae and I sang in the youth choir together at my father's church. During choir practice a situation arose with another girl who was making fun of Willie Mae's shabby clothes, big nose and dark skin. The other girl, Nicole, was a mulatto with fair skin, a thin nose and a fine grade of hair. Willie Mae had trouble locating the right word she needed to express her feelings. I knew the word she was looking for so I acted as her liaison as I'd done countless times. I guess this particular day she'd had enough and hauled off and slapped me during choir practice. I was stunned and hurt at first, but those feelings quickly turned into anger. Before I could stop myself or ask why she'd slapped me, I slapped her back. The next thing I knew we were on the floor fighting."