Outcast (5 page)

He'd started smoking cigarettes in high school. Betty caught him once and demanded her husband's discipline. Curtis Sr. only applied a stern rebuke, which did nothing to deter the recalcitrant teen. Beer soon became Tirrell's libation of choice as he opted to liberate them frequently from his grandfather's stash. Other than the occasional joint, he'd also known people who snorted cocaine, but never imagined himself with a taste for that particular high. Clearly, his interests were changing; and so too was he.

MARTA services were slower on Sunday than any other day of the week. It took Tirrell over an hour to get back to Eastland Avenue. As he rounded the corner at the end of the block, he spotted his brother's silver Ford Explorer sitting in front of the house; Tasha's car was parked behind it. He wanted to run back in the direction of the train station, but figured that Betty had already divulged the fact that he was back. He would have to face his brother eventually; it may as well be right now.

The storm door creaked as he opened it. What would sneaking in accomplish? They were all seated around the dining table when he walked in. Exuberant chatter and the passing of serving bowls ceased as reproachful stares zeroed in on him. A lump formed in his throat. Who was going to fire the first shot? This moment felt like a very high-stakes chess game where the wrong move would render one's opponent defenseless and the king susceptible to capture.

“Uncle Tirrell,” shouted a gleeful six-year-old with big brown eyes. The small boy jumped from his chair and ran to the door.

Tirrell swept his nephew in his arms and kissed him on the cheek. He seemed the only one, other than Betty, willing to accept him as a real part of the Ellis clan. His nephew's unconditional move put the rest of them in check.

“You may as well go wash your hands and come get somethin' to eat,” Betty exclaimed.

Tirrell vacillated between relief and sadness as he put the boy down and scooted him back toward the table.

“So, this was your big surprise?” he heard Kevin snap as he stepped into the bathroom.

“Kevin, stop it. Be nice, now,” Betty admonished.

Tirrell washed his hands and threw cold water on his face in an effort to awaken from the dream he felt trapped in. But, this was no dream. Reality was lurking on the other side of the door. They were all waiting to insist on answers that he didn't feel obligated or ready to give. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall.

“Baby, are you all right in there?”

“Yes, ma'am. I'm okay.”

“The food is gettin' cold.”

“I'll be right out.”

As the water ran he remembered the little something he had stuffed in his blue jeans pocket. He opened the medicine cabinet and found an unused razor blade, and knelt down on the floor next to the commode. He pulled a dollar bill and the small plastic pouch from his pocket. He tapped a small amount out onto the lowered lid of the toilet, separated it into two lines with the blade, and rolled up the bill.
If I'm going to get through this, I'm gonna need some help.

Pressing his index finger to close his left nostril, he put the tip of the dollar bill into the right and bent over to snort one of the lines. With a deep inhale he ingested the powdery white substance, then repeated the process on the other side. He took a deep breath and threw his head back, waiting for the euphoric sensation he desperately needed. He stood and wiped the residue of cocaine from the toilet lid and licked his fingers. After stuffing the pouch back into his pocket he turned off the faucet, cleared his throat, and went to join the others.

“Hey, Pat. How's it goin'?” Tirrell said to his sister-in-law as he took the seat next to Tasha.

“Things are good.” The woman smiled politely. “How've you been?”

“Couldn't be better.”

Tirrell leaned over to kiss Tasha's cheek and she pulled away.

“Well, well,” his brother Kevin began. “The prodigal son has returned.”

Both Betty and Pat shot him simultaneous glowers.

Tirrell pretended not to notice and reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes in front of him. “Everything smells great, Noonie.”

Betty smiled. “I made one of your favorite desserts, too.”

“Peach cobbler or German chocolate cake?”

“Peach cobbler.” She nodded with pride.

“That's what's up.” He beamed, filling his plate with several slices of meatloaf, hearty scoops of green beans, and generous squares of hot, buttered cornbread.

Conversation stalled. Utensils clicked on plates, punctuating the silence. Pat busied herself assisting her son to get more food in his mouth than on the tablecloth around his plate.

Betty strained for something to say. “Reverend Eason really preached this morning. Didn't he, Pat?”

“Yes, ma'am, he sure did.”

“What was the title of the sermon again?”

Tirrell shot his grandmother a side-glance and held back a simper. He knew the woman could tell you every sermon her pastor preached for at least the last three weeks.

Kevin put down his fork, picked up another piece of bread, and glared at Tirrell. “So, how long have you been home,
little brother?
”

Tirrell didn't look up from his plate. Kevin's tone dripped with contempt. If he could have called him a bastard at the table and not gotten popped in the mouth by their grandmother, he would have.

“I got in Thursday night.”

Eight years and oceans of misunderstanding separated the brothers. Kevin was as tall as Tirrell and possessed the same distinct facial features as their father had. He had his mother's eyes, but his father's intense scowl; all the Ellis men had it. Stubbornness was another trait they shared. These qualities had served Kevin well on his college debate team, and continued to do so in his position working in the prosecutor's office of Fulton County. His demeanor was as certain as his confident gait. Kevin's skin tone was a shade darker than his brother's, and he wore his hair short and faded just as Tirrell did. Aesthetically, one of the only other differences in their appearances was that Kevin sported a neatly trimmed moustache and beard.

“So, you're on some kind of leave?”

“Yeah.” Tirrell took a break from shoveling his food in his mouth to wash it down with the glass of ice-cold lemonade.

“How long will you be here?”

The interrogation was not completely unexpected.

Betty interceded. “Kevin, let him eat.”

Kevin looked at his wife. She arched her brow and pursed her lips in agreement—he returned to his plate.

Tirrell leaned into Tasha, who'd barely looked at him the entire meal. “You look nice,” he whispered.

Tasha rolled her eyes and threw her napkin on the table. “Excuse me.” She jumped up and bolted for the door. Tirrell chased after her and stopped her on the porch.

“Let go of me, Tirrell!”

“Tasha, baby, come on. All I said was that you look nice.”

“Where were you all night?”

“I . . . I was hangin' out with Marquis and some of the fellas.”

“You're lyin'.” Tasha glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one was watching. She lowered her voice. “Okay, if you were with Marquis where'd you go? What did y'all do?”

“We just hung out. Watched some TV. Drank a few beers, then we went out to the Compound.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, it got late, so I just crashed at his place so I wouldn't wake Noonie up comin' in.”

Tasha clenched her teeth. “Then, why you come in here stinkin' like you been with some other bitch?”

Tirrell sighed, threw his head back, and wiped his hand over his face. “Tasha, c'mon . . .”

“Don't
Tasha
me. You reek of cigarettes and nasty-ass perfume. I hope you had a good time.”

“C'mon, it wasn't like that.”

“Why you gotta lie, Tirrell?”

“You don't need to know what I'm doin' every hour of the day and night!”

“You were ready to jump all over some guy at the movies just 'cause he wanted to help me carry popcorn. And you come up in here after bein' out all night and you don't expect me to have somethin' to say about it. If we're supposed to be together I got a right—”

“Whoa, hold up . . . You ain't got a right to a damn thing. I'm a grown-ass man, not no little boy. You don't have to chase after me. Poppin' up over here all the time. Tryin' to get in good with my grandmother and goin' to church like you all holy. Ain't no ring on your finger, and even if it was you ain't got to keep tabs on me!”

Their collective anger governed their tones. The commotion brought Betty to the door. Tasha turned away to keep her from seeing the tears welling up in her eyes. Realizing he may have gone too far, Tirrell leaned against the railing with his head down.

“Y'all all right out here?”

“Yeah, Noonie. We're good.”

“Tasha?”

“I'm fine, Miss Betty.”

“We're gonna have cobbler soon. I got some vanilla ice cream to go with it. Y'all wanna come back inside?”

Tasha turned to face her. “I think I'm gonna pass on dessert. I need to go.”

“Are you sure?”

She glanced over at Tirrell, who hadn't looked up. “Yeah, I just need to get my purse.”

Betty cleared the doorway and Tasha went in to retrieve her purse and say good-bye to the others. She hugged Betty and thanked her for inviting her to dinner. She said nothing to Tirrell as she jumped in her car and sped off.

“Tirrell?”

“I'll be in soon, Noonie.”

Betty hesitated before stepping back inside the house.

Tirrell's cell phone rang; it was Bobby. He would have to call him back. He slipped the phone back into the pocket of his jeans and removed the plastic pouch of cocaine.

Before he could go back into the house, Kevin came out. Tirrell rightfully assumed it wasn't his decision. He quickly stuffed the pouch back inside his pocket. They stood staring out over the neighborhood with no particular focus, or interest in the residents who waved in recognition.

“What was that?” Kevin inquired.

“What?”

“What you just put in your pocket.”

“Nothin' for you to worry about, Kev.” Tirrell opened his arms and smiled a big, toothy grin. “You wanna give your li'l brother some love?”

Kevin gave him the once-over and snarled.

“C'mon, man. How long we gonna do this?” Tirrell grabbed and heartily embraced him.

Kevin's body tensed and jerked loose. “Man, you have lost your raggedy-ass mind. Don't you ever do that again.”

“I was just showin' you how glad I was to be home.”

“Yeah, I can smell your happiness, and everybody else can too.”

Tirrell caught a whiff of himself and realized he should have tried to clean up better.

Kevin stared off in the distance. “You never said how long your leave was.”

“Awhile.”

“How long's awhile?”

“A month,” Tirrell snapped. “Is that a'ight with you?”

“Your girl took off in a hurry. She didn't even finish eating.”

“So?”

“So, I'm guessing that's not her scent all over you. You just don't have any class about yourself, do you? It's obvious that Tasha likes you, and you want to treat her like she's just another piece of ass. ”

“Why is this your business exactly?”

“Look, I don't really care whether you two work it out. I do care about Noonie, and I thought you did too.”

“I do.”

“So, this is how you show it?” Kevin turned to face him. “Let me make something clear to you. However long you're going to be here, you need to make sure that whatever other business you got goin' on doesn't come back on Noonie.”

“You make it sound like I'm gonna do somethin' to hurt her.”

“Just make sure you don't.”

“Or what?”

“I'm gon' be all over your ass.”

“Should I be turned on or scared?”

Kevin grabbed Tirrell's arm and pushed him into one of the columns that supported the front of the house. Tirrell tried to squirm free, but Kevin's grip tightened.

“I'm tellin' you one more time. Don't bring your shit up in this house. The sooner your leave is over, the better for all of us, especially Noonie. She's not stupid, you know. Now, she went to a lot of trouble to prepare this dinner. The least you could do is come in and finish eating it.”

“Daddy.”

Kevin looked over his shoulder and saw his son peering through the storm door.

Tirrell yanked his arm away.

“Noonie said for me to come and get you.”

“I'll be right there, Micah. Go on back inside.”

The boy hesitated at the door before doing as he was told.

Kevin turned back to Tirrell. “I meant what I said,
bruh!
And you may wanna do yourself a favor and take a shower. You dumbass.”