Leaving: A Novel (31 page)

Lida didn’t answer. She didn’t know where to begin. Everywhere she looked in that house, she could picture him, could see a moment when she felt terror. She saw him smiling at her from the couch as he drew pictures, eating at the table, sitting in the chair listening to records. She closed her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter, Mama, ’cause he’s dead now. I just want to go on. I just want to get this baby out of me and go on.”

“You have space for a baby where you living?”

“No. Why?”

Ruby dumped the stew back in the pot. “’Cause there’s so much room I got here.”

“You saying we could all move in back here?”

“I don’t know why you won’t tell me what Love E did. I know he didn’t mean it. He never did anything to hurt someone on purpose.”

“I definitely can’t live here, Mama, if you’re gonna keep bringing that up on me.”

“But if you just tell me, then we won’t have to bring it up anymore and it will be done with.”

“You aren’t going to believe me anyways, and you’ll just hate me more than you already do.”

“I don’t hate you, Lida. I love you.”

“Then you’ve got to pick, Mama. ’Cause it’s got to be him or me. You’ve got to promise to never talk about him.”

“But Lida, why do you want to hurt me this way? Can’t you at least let me have my memories?”

“That’s what I’m doing. I’m letting you have your memories, the way you want to have them.”

“You’re talking crazy. I don’t know what you’re saying.” Ruby sat down on the stepladder by the counter and held her head. “It’s not fair of you to make me choose like this.”

“There’s nothing to choose. I won’t make you choose, Mama. I can’t live here again, anyway. This place makes me shiver. It’s like coming back to some kind of nightmare.”

Lida left the kitchen, and Ruby stayed on the ladder holding her head, looking at the floor. Lida picked up her purse from the couch and was almost out the door when she stopped and saw her old pair of Eastman shoes by the mat. She touched them lightly with the tip of her foot, like nudging a small animal to see if it was still alive.

“This was a good idea of mine to leave these shoes down here, wasn’t it, Mama?”

Ruby didn’t answer, and Lida let herself out.

SANTA RITA JAIL

I READ TO
you today from Mississippi law known as the Black Codes:

3. Mississippi Vagrant Law; Section 2

All freedmen, free Negroes and mulattoes in this State, over the age of eighteen years, found on the second Monday in January, 1866, or thereafter, with no lawful employment or business, or found unlawful assembling themselves together, either in the day or night time, and all white persons so assembling themselves with freedmen, free Negroes or mulattoes, or usually associating with freedmen, free Negroes, or mulattoes, on terms of equality, or living in adultery or fornication with a freed woman, free Negro or mulatto, shall be deemed vagrants, and on conviction thereof shall be fined in a sum not exceeding, in the case of a freedman, free Negro or mulatto, fifty dollars, and a white man two hundred dollars, and imprisoned at the discretion of the court, the free Negro not exceeding ten days, and the white man not exceeding six months.…

4. Penal Laws of Mississippi; Section 5

If any freedman, free Negro, or mulatto, convicted of any of the misdemeanors provided against in this act [including “insulting gestures” or “exercising the function of a minister of the Gospel without a license”], shall fail or refuse for the space of five days, after conviction, to pay the fine and costs imposed [up to one hundred dollars], such person shall be hired out by the sheriff or other officer, at public outcry, to any white person who will pay said fine and all costs, and take said convict for the shortest time.

CHAPTER 2A

JANUARY 1994   •   LOVE 14, LI’L PIT 10

AT TEN
P.M.,
after winding through Bakersfield, the bus arrived at the L.A. terminal. Love and Li’l Pit were tired and groggy as they got off and wandered into the main waiting area, a cavernous hall flooded in fluorescent light. The room was crowded and the floor tiles were covered in ashy dirt. In the center were rows of long wooden benches, divided with a wooden bar every three feet so people couldn’t sleep on them. They sat down and looked around. There was a video arcade off to the side with loud laser explosions and flashing lights. At the entrance to the building, three teenagers stood against the wall, looking around at the passengers and every once in a while whistling across the street. Li’l Pit sat at the end of the bench and put his feet up.

“What we got to do now?”

“We got to wait.”

“Here, in this old toilet?”

Love nodded.

“What about our trunk?”

“I told them bus people to hold it for us until we’re ready.” The loudspeaker announced a departing bus, and a few passengers began to run. Li’l Pit laughed and then started to drone and nod his head.

“Yuh yuh yuh yuh yuh.”

“Cut that shit out,” Love said.

“YA YA YA,” Li’l Pit yelled louder, but then stopped. “I’m going in there.” He got up and walked into the darkened video arcade. After wandering around looking for quarters on the floor, he stood next to a taller kid playing Street Fighter. As he watched, he shook his head.

“Here,” Li’l Pit said. “I’ll get you a free man.” He grabbed the controls and pushed the kid to the side so he wouldn’t have time to argue. He played the game for a minute and got an extra man.

“Here,” the boy said, trying to get his play back.

“Just a minute.” Li’l Pit was fighting intensely and pushing the controls. A minute later the boy spoke up again.

“Here, let me play.” He pushed Li’l Pit, but Li’l Pit didn’t budge, so the boy wandered off. Love came over and watched his brother. Li’l Pit punched the enemy one more time and the game awarded him another new man.

“Bet you wish you was that good for real.”

“This is for real,” he said. “There ain’t no one in the world can beat me at this, and that’s for real.”

A policeman came up to them with his hand on his club. He tapped Love on the shoulder.

“Outside, both of you.”

“What for?” Li’l Pit said.

“Out.”

“I was just getting him extra men. He said I could play.”

“Now.”

“Shit, man. Can’t never do anything nice for no one.”

Love and Li’l Pit walked out of the arcade, shaking their heads, the policeman following them. Li’l Pit started to babble: “Libily libily libily.”

“What’s wrong with him?” the policeman asked.

Love shrugged. “He’s not doing it on purpose.”

The policeman thrust out his arm and pointed to the wall. “Stand over there.”

“Damn. Poh-Poh ain’t gettin none at home,” Love mumbled, and his brother laughed.

“Is this them?” the cop asked. Love turned and saw the bald man who’d sat across from them in the bus.

“What’d we do?” Love yelled.

The whole bus station seemed to be watching them. The man nodded and the cop came up behind Love and handcuffed him. He then patted Love down all over his body.

“Get your hands off me, faggot.”

The cop reached into Love’s jacket and pulled out the paper bag. He looked in and then rolled it up.

“Give me that back,” Love yelled. “You don’t have any right to take my stuff.”

“Lay on the ground.”

“Give me my bag!”

The cop pushed on Love’s shoulder and forced him to his knees and then flattened him onto his stomach.

“You too,” he said to Li’l Pit. Li’l Pit began to bark: “Rah rah rah rah! Rah rah rah rah rah!” But when the policeman raised his club, he got down and lay on his stomach.

“What’d your bag look like?” the cop asked the old man.

“It was a black case, a soft briefcase, with silver locks. There were watches in it.”

“We don’t have his stupid bag,” Love yelled. The cop went into the arcade. Passersby stared at the boys, handcuffed and on the ground, some with convinced looks, nodding their heads, others with convinced looks, shaking their heads.

“I don’t see your briefcase in there,” the cop said. “They may have put it somewhere or sold it already. They have a bag here with money.”

“That money is my money,” Love yelled. “My grandmother gave me that money.”

The cop continued to speak as if Love were just one more video game screaming in the background.

“I’ll tell you what you can do. If you want to press charges, I can take them in and confiscate the money. We can call up the kids’ parents. If we can prove they took the watches, then the money is yours. But I don’t think you’ll probably see your watches again. In fact, there’s not much chance we’ll prove they took them, and then they keep the money. You can fill out a report, though, if you want; but my feeling is to just take the money and send them on their way. That’s just my suggestion. But you can do what you want.”

Love stood up and shouted, “That’s my money, motherfucker. You can’t keep my money. We’re supposed to use that for food money. You can call my grandmother. You can’t steal my money.”

“Get down on the ground, now.” The cop took out his nightstick and approached him. Love lay down again.

“I don’t know if he took my bag for sure,” the man said.

“He took it,” the cop said, standing over Love. “I’ve seen his kind a thousand times. They dress up nice and hang around here all day and snatch people’s stuff. Believe me, he took it and sold it right outside. Then they use the money to buy drugs and turn that around for more money.”

“We’re going to South Carolina. You can look at my tickets,” Love groaned.

“Maybe we should look at their tickets,” said the old man.

“Listen,” the cop said. “If you don’t want me to do my job, then why did you ask me over here? I don’t care if they got tickets to Kalamazoo. Where do you think they get money like this, huh? And in a paper bag.” He held the bag open in front of the man’s face. “They take a bus, they steal some luggage, and then they get money to buy crack outside the station to sell for even more. I see it every day. It’s a gang thing. It’s an initiation. They’ve got to steal somebody’s stuff and then they can be a part of the gang.”

The old man shook his head.

“I know it’s a sad thing to see,” the policeman continued. “But when you’re out here like me, seeing these kids stealing and killing day after day, getting away with everything, you don’t feel sorry for them anymore. You got to stop looking at them like kids. They’re rotten seeds. By this age, it’s already too late. You got to just lock them up and throw away the key.”

The old man was looking at the boys lying on the dirty ground, Li’l Pit in his V-neck red sweater, babbling in a quick monotone.

“I can’t prove they took it,” he said. “But I can’t see anyone else on that bus taking that case.”

“What do you want me to do?” the cop asked.

“What will happen to them if you arrest them?”

“If they have records already, which they always do, then they might go to Juvi, or to a camp. Either way, they’ll be out again in a few months and you’ll be minus your money. If I book them, I’ve got to keep the money as evidence.”

“We’re going to South Carolina,” Love said in a whisper.

“We should just at least look at their tickets,” said the old man. The policeman went to Love and rolled him over like a carpet. Love lay perfectly still as the cop unzipped his jacket and got the tickets from his inside pocket.

“Yep. Norma, South Carolina. Probably some national gang ring. If you want, I’ll put them on the bus. They’ll just hop off at the next stop. But then you can have your money and at least they’ll be out of my hair.”

“Yes. I guess that’s what I want you to do, if you don’t mind.”

The cop shrugged. “Here’s the money; it’s obviously yours.” He held the bag out to the man.

“I don’t know. I guess so. It’s so hard,” the man said. He looked at the boys on the floor and shook his head.

“Damn right it’s hard,” said the cop. “Every day of my life I wonder how I keep going.”

*   *   *

TWO HOURS LATER
they sat in silence on the midnight bus out of L.A., thinking of how the old man and cop screwed them over. Every once in a while Love would look down and shake his head. Upon seeing him shake his head, Li’l Pit would shake his head too. But then they’d go off into their own thoughts again, staring at the back of the seat, or out the window into the darkness.

Li’l Pit’s mind was racing so fast that he couldn’t speak. Every time he was going to ask Love a question, a more important question popped into his head: Why did the man think they took his bag? Why did the cop make them lie on the ground when they were already in handcuffs? He would have liked to have hit that old man, stand on top of him and take the cop’s club and smack him right between the eyes. But the man did let them go because Love had the tickets to South Carolina. But why did Love have tickets to South Carolina? It must have been just in case something like this happened. But if they were really going to stop in Dallas on the way, as the bus driver had announced, maybe he could go to Texas Stadium and see Emmitt Smith. But then Freight and Curse would kill them. Except Love had said at first that they were going to L.A., so they must be waiting to get off at the next stop. But how were they going to buy the stuff now that the cop had their money? That cop was just lucky he had that club, or he would have tore him up. There was no excuse for putting them on the floor like that in front of all those people. Li’l Pit shook his head. Love looked at him and shook his head too, and they both smiled.

*   *   *

THE BUS PULLED
off the freeway and stopped outside a small terminal in Indio, California.

“Five minutes,” the driver said. He opened the door, left the engine running, and got off. Li’l Pit looked at Love, but Love put his head against the window and closed his eyes.

“Ain’t we gettin off?” Li’l Pit asked.

Love rolled his forehead back and forth against the window. It was just past two
A.M.
, and the three-day trip to Norma included three more transfers, one in Dallas, another in Atlanta, and the last one in Augusta, Georgia.