If I Were Your Boyfriend (9 page)

  "Yeah, she called me out on that one. But I did try to recover because my game was tight. I know how to charm a girl. I told her that she was right. And asked her if she'd be willing to help me learn the sport. At that point she told me to get lost and rushed into the girls' locker room."

  "You struck out," I said. "So, how did you guys end up dating?"

  "A few weeks later I had a game at her school. When I saw her again, I was still in awe of her. She was just so perfect for me." Deon leaned back in his seat. "I took another leap of faith and actually introduced myself to her again after the game. I told her my name, where I was from and asked her if there was any chance for me to get to know her better. She smiled at me and said, 'Possibly.' And the rest, as they say, is history. What about you, Wesley? Do you have a girl?"

  "No. Not right now. My last girlfriend played too many games. She liked dating several guys at the same time. The final straw came when I almost got into a fight with this guy over her. But then I realized that she really wasn't worth fighting for, so I let her go. I was cool with it, though. I wasn't terribly upset over it." I was about to tell Deon about another relationship, but Officer Sanchez called my name.

  "Wesley, come here," he said. I stood up and walked over to him.

  "What's up?" I asked.

  "Come with me. You have a visitor," he said.

  "Who?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. My mother had arrived to cast judgment upon me.

  "Your mom is here," he answered.

  I suddenly felt ill. "Look, man. Do I have to go and see her? Because right now, I really don't want to. My mother is Puerto Rican and African American and has the temper of a grizzly bear."

  "Yeah, you have to see her," said Officer Sanchez. "You're lucky that you have someone coming to see about you."

  I grumbled loudly as I followed Officer Sanchez to the visitors' room.

  I walked through a series of doors and entered the visiting area, which was set up like a large high school cafeteria.

  "Okay, here are the rules." Officer Sanchez captured my gaze. "There is no touching, no yelling and no use of profanity. And don't get up from your seat until you're told to do so. Break any one of the rules you will be placed in isolation for five hours."

  "Dude, please don't make me talk to her. Tell her I'm in detox right now," I pleaded.

  "Have a seat right here," said Officer Sanchez, completely unmoved by my cry for mercy.

  I sat at the table for a few minutes feeling anxious and jittery. The moment I saw my mom enter the room, my stomach did a somersault. The very sight of her shot my blood pressure sky-high and made my skin itch. My mom is a tall hefty woman who is fond of wearing oversized wigs and too much make-up. She absolutely refuses to allow the big hairstyles of the 1980s to die. Today she has on a sandy brown wig that is tilted too far to the right. She is wearing a long-sleeve V-necked dress that is showing too much cleavage. When my mom finally spotted me, she walked over and sat down on the opposite side of the table. I had a hard time looking at her because not only was she an embarrassing sight, but I was angry with her.

  "How is it going?" she asked.

  "It's going fine," I answered her.

  "Are you in a cell by yourself?" she asked.

  "Yeah, and it's great because I don't have to worry about you charging into my room in the middle of the night shouting at me."

  "Wesley, I'm here to help. I had to do something. You're out of control and this was the only way that I could get your attention. You left me with no other choice."

  "Oh, no, you don't. Don't you even try to twist this around. You had a choice. You didn't have to report your car stolen. You knew where I was going," I said to her.

  "Wesley, you took my car without my permission," she said.

  "No," I cut her off. "You gave me permission to take it."

  "No, I didn't," she fired back at me.

  "Yes, you did! You know what?" I raised the palms of my hands up. "Let's just stop now. I'm ready to go. I don't want to talk to you."

  "Wesley, you have to listen to me. I love you, but I don't know what to do with you. You're lucky that the police found you before you drove home. Your alcohol levels were past the legal drinking limit. Do you know how dangerous it is to drink and drive?" she preached to me.

  "Well, I had to learn how to drink and drive from some place." I looked in her eyes to see if my words hurt her, and they had. For some twisted reason hurting her feelings made me feel good. "So don't come up in here acting like the pot who called the kettle black."

  "I don't do that anymore, Wesley." She tried to defend her drinking problem.

  "Yeah, right. You practically come into my room every night sloshed. Yelling at me and making my life miserable."

  "I need you to hear me, son. I want to help you," she said. She looked as if she wanted to cry, but I didn't have any sympathy for her at all.

  "Are we done?" I asked. "Because I don't have anything else to say."

  "I'll see you in court," she said, and then stood up. "I hope you fix your attitude by then."

  "Yeah, whatever! I'll see you when I see you," I said as she walked out of the room. I remained seated for about fifteen minutes before Officer Sanchez reappeared. He told me that I could get up so I did and followed him back to the common area.

  "Hey,
amigo,
it's not cool to be so disrespectful to your mom."

  "Well, if she did some of the things to you that she's done to me, you'd fully understand why things are the way they are."

  "But she's still your mom and you have to respect her no matter what," said Officer Sanchez.

  I didn't respond to him because I didn't fully agree with what he was saying to me. In my mind, my mom was crazy and if I didn't get away from her soon, I'd go crazy too.

  "So, what are you going to say at your court hearing tomorrow?" asked Officer Sanchez.

  "Whatever it takes to get the judge to see that I don't want to go back to my mother's house," I answered.

  "Where do you want to go?" he asked.

  "With my dad," I said.

  "You and your dad get along well?"

  "Yeah. Me and my dad are real cool. We don't have any problems. I'd go live with him in a heartbeat, but my mother won't let me."

  "Why not?"

  "Because she sees me and the child-suport check as a way to support her drinkng problem. And that's the truth, man."

  "Is that how you started drinking?" asked Officer Sanchez. "By watching your mom?"

  "Something like that."

  "
Amigo,
you're only sixteen. You shouldn't be drinking to solve your problems. How long have been doing this?"

  "About three years. Since I was thirteen."

  "Do you think you need help?" asked Officer Sanchez.

  "Dude, right now I'm in the best place in the world. So, as far as I'm concerned, my call for help has been answered."

  "That's twisted, man. You don't want to be here. This is not a place to live," said Officer Sanchez.

  "Well, for now it suits me just fine," I said as he opened the door for me to head back to the common area.

  Later that evening I received a phone call from my dad. I was happy to hear from him because I knew he'd understand everything that I was going through.

  "Hey, Wesley, how is it going?" he asked me through the phone.

  "Well, things have been better," I admitted. "I can't wait to get out of here."

  "Yeah, I know, son. I heard that your mom came to visit you today. How did that go?" he asked.

  "Not so good," I answered him truthfully.

  "Was she sober when she came to see you?"

  "Yeah, she was sober, but we still got into a little bit of a shouting match." I began bitting my fingernails. "Hey, Dad."

  "Yes?"

  "I want to come and live with you. I don't want to be in Mom's house anymore and I'm going to let the judge know that."

  "Well, don't you worry about that, Wesley. I've got a lawyer coming with me tomorrow and together we're going to get all of this mess straightened out, okay?"

  "Okay," I answered.

  "Now, you get some rest. You've got a big day tomorrow and you're going to need all of your strength."

  "Okay, Dad, love you," I said.

  "Love you too," he responded.