Flyy Girl (4 page)

What? You need a damn break?
Patti felt like yelling at him. She took a deep breath instead, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I don't
want you to go, baby,” she whispered into his ear. “We can work this thing out.”

Dave shook his head, set on moving out. “It's too late for that now.”

Patti rolled to the edge of the bed. She hoped maybe he would ask where she was going. She went down to the kitchen. She thought about grabbing a knife.

“Did you sleep well last night, sweetheart?” Patti asked Tracy at breakfast.

“Yup, I had a dream that I could fly.”

“You did? And were you scared?”

“Unh hunh.”

Patti gave her a medium-size box to open. “Your daddy bought this for you.”

Tracy opened the box and pulled out a stuffed animal. “Wow, he got a suit on!” She held it up and hugged it to her chest. It was a tan lion wearing a black tuxedo with a white bow tie.

“When did daddy buy me this?” she asked.

“Last night, because he's not going to be around as much.”

Tracy raised her brow in alarm. “He's not?”

“No, because he decided to move out,” Patti told her.

Tracy's hazel eyes ballooned. “Why-e-e, mommy?”

Patti looked away, feeling both guilt and anger. “Because we don't get along anymore.”

“Is he still gonna come see us?”

“Yes, but he won't be staying with us for a while.”

“Well, when is he coming back?”

“I don't know.”

“You don't like each other anymore?” Tracy squealed.

“I don't know, honey.”

“Well, how can I go to play with him and ask him questions and stuff?”

“He never really played with you, honey. Do you remember any things that you and your father did together?”

Tracy thought about it. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “But I like it when he's here, 'cause he makes me feel good.”

Patti smiled at her and sat her daughter on her lap. “I know. Daddy made
me
feel good too.”

Tracy smiled back and said, “Yeah, dad is fun.”

“He sure is, baby, but now we're going to have our own fun.”

“How?”

“Well, by going shopping and stuff, 'cause daddy said you're going to get an allowance.”

Tracy was puzzled. “Allowance? What's that?” she asked.

“It's money after a certain period of time.”

“He wants me to have money?”

“Yeah, he doesn't want his baby to be wearing rags. He wants you to wear nice things.”

“Well, who's gonna pick me up from school?”

“I don't know yet, but let me tell you something, honey.” Patti tossed her arms tightly around her daughter's growing body. “No matter what you do, my little princess, never let any little boy break your heart. It's a rough world out there for us girls, 'cause everything is geared for the boys to do. And they can just get up and walk away from you whenever they want to. Just like your father did.”

Tracy nodded.

“They can do whatever they want, and we're supposed to sit back and be complacent,” Patti went on.

“What's that mean, mommy?”

“That means you're supposed to sit on benches and talk to your little girlfriends until some boy wants to talk to you.”

“Yuck, I don't like boys,” Tracy told her.

Patti shook her head and smiled. “Yeah, I know. But you remember this, you hear? You always go after what you want in life, and never give anything away without a good reason.”

“Yeah, 'cause I don't like to give candy, now.”

Patti chuckled to herself. Her daughter was in another world.
She'll
eventually understand what I'm talking about,
Patti told herself.
She'll
learn.
“You're a beautiful little girl, and you stay strong, okay?” she
said, shaking Tracy on her lap and kissing her cheek to cheer her up and get her off to school.

“Okay, mommy,” Tracy responded with a smile. She then lifted up her arm in a bodybuilding pose. “I'm gon' be real strong.”

Patti laughed at her. “Girl, you're just too much.”

Two years had passed, and Tracy was hanging out with her mother regularly. They went to the malls, parks, museums and theaters. Tracy grew to love and respect her mother's points of view on everything. Mommy wore nice clothes, so Tracy wanted nice clothes, too. They watched TV together. They chose Patti's dates together. They did everything together, just like girlfriends. But nothing seemed to satisfy the void of Tracy's father. He still hadn't decided to come back home and stay with them.

Beth picked Tracy up from school, and Tracy would stay with them until her mother got in from work. But Raheema's home, although it was full, wasn't as warm and cheerful as hers. Their home seemed lifeless and dreary, even with all of its members.

Raheema's older sister, Mercedes, did nothing but homework. She and Raheema went to Catholic elementary school and wore uniforms. Raheema and Tracy would sneak around the house, getting into trouble and then drag Mercedes into it, making her life miserable. Their father, Keith, was strict and intimidating, so Mercedes stayed moody behind closed doors.

Mercedes was thirteen, and she had matured enough to communicate with boys. Keith would have more than he anticipated on his hands in due time. Young teenagers were starting to walk Mercedes home from school and hang out with friends who lived on her block.

“Ay, Mercedes, come here for a minute,” a rather plain-looking boy said. He was nothing to get excited over. Mercedes' walnut-brown complexion, dark eyes and long silky hair aroused him, though. He thought she was gorgeous. She had the “Indian look.”

Mercedes walked over to him. The boy stood with one foot in the street and one on the sidewalk. Beth was inside the house cooking, and Keith was not expected home for another three hours.

“Yes?” Mercedes asked the boy, keeping a good distance from him. She didn't like him or anything, she only wanted to see what he wanted.

“Come here. I ain't gon' bite 'chew girl, dag,” the boy said with a smile.

Mercedes didn't want to be any closer to him. “What?” she asked.

“You got a thorough-ass name,” he told her. “Ay Kev, ain't ‘Mercedes' a decent name?”

“YEAH!” his friend shouted from across the street.

Mercedes smiled at that. She was flattered. She waited for the boy to ask her something else. She liked talking to boys but didn't want to get serious with them,
yet.

The plain-looking boy studied Mercedes' white, blue and gray uniform. “So you go to Catholic school, hunh?”

“Yeah, but I don't like it,” she said.

“You don't?” he asked, pointlessly.

Mercedes sucked her teeth and answered, “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I just don't.”

“Uuuuww, Mercedes talkin' to a boy!” Tracy squealed, bolting from the house with Raheema.

“Yuuup, we gon' tell,” Raheema warned.

“Hold up, I'll be right back,” Mercedes told the boy. She ran to the
patio steps. The two little ones ran inside the house and up the stairs to Raheema's room. Mercedes chased after them.

“Why you do that?” she hissed, yanking her sister's arm.

“Because daddy don't like you talking to boys.”

“So, who cares what he likes? I hate him anyway. And you better not tell on me, either.”

“Did you like 'dat boy, Mercedes?” Tracy asked excitedly.

“No. He was ugly,” Mercedes answered.

“Does he like you?”

“I think he does. He wanted to talk to me.”

“What did 'ju say to him?”

Mercedes looked down and frowned at Tracy. “Dag, girl, you writin' a book or something?”

“Well, what did 'ju say?” Tracy repeated.

“I didn't say that much. He just asked me about school and stuff.”

Raheema remained silent, with her lips poked out.

“Mommy, Mercedes was talkin' to this boy today, and she said he was ugly.”

“Mercedes is talking to boys now, hunh?” Patti asked while she searched through her closet for something to wear.

Tracy plopped on her mother's vanity chair inside of the bedroom. “Yup, and me and Ra-Ra saw her.”

“You did?” Patti said, picking out a dark green dress.

“Yup, and then he chased us.”

“He
did what?” Patti responded, giving her full attention.

“I mean,
she
did.”

“Oh, okay. I thought maybe you were out there playing or something.”

“No, me and Ra-Ra was in the house.”

“Well,
we're
going out to eat tonight, sweety,” Patti said, changing the subject.

“Who we goin' wit'? Jus' me and you, mom? Hunh?”

Patti paused for a minute and gave her daughter a stern look. “What
I tell you about talking so fast? I can't even understand you sometimes. Everything that you do, you just have to be so
fast
about it. Slow down sometimes when you speak.”

“Okay,” Tracy perked.

“Now, mommy has a date, and I'm going to take you with me. So go wash your hands and face.”

Patti scooted her daughter toward the bathroom.

“Okay,” Tracy said, running.

Patti wanted to establish a family feeling with the new man she was getting close to. If Dave wasn't going to show any consistent responsibility, then Patti was ready to open up her options for a man who would.

Paul Greggory was tall, with smooth caramel skin and a mustache. He drove them to a romantic restaurant in his sporty Camaro. The service was impeccable. That was a plus for Paul. Tracy never liked waiting long.

The food was well prepared. Paul cut Tracy's steak and potatoes, buttered her bread and wrapped her napkin around her neck. Patti was impressed with his manners. Then he ordered ice cream for dessert, their favorite.

“Hey, mom, he got us ice cream,” Tracy said cheerfully.

“Yup, he sure did. So do you like it, honey?”

Tracy hunched her shoulders in her tan dress. “It's okay, but I liked that place where dad used to take us better.”

“And where was this?” Paul asked her.

“I don't know, but it was a long way though.”

“And did they have cherry-vanilla ice cream there?” Paul asked her while winking at Patti.

Paul wore a navy-blue sports jacket and a cream-colored shirt with no tie.

“I'on know,” Tracy answered him.

“We used to get sundaes,” Patti said.

“Oh, okay. Well, we could've gotten a sundae. Would you like to still go get one?” Paul suggested to Tracy. He leaned over the table and smiled at her.

“I don't care,” Tracy told him.

Patti watched to see if her daughter liked him.

They drove to the ice cream store where Dave used to take them. Tracy fell asleep in the car.

“Okay, Tracy, we're here,” Patti said, grabbing on to a limp arm.

“Stop, mommy,” Tracy whined.

“Don't you want the ice cream, baby?”

Tracy dropped her head back into the seat. “No, I wanna go to sleep.” Patti got Paul to pick her up and walk her around, despite Tracy's protest.

Patti wasn't quite ready for her date to end. It was only eight o'clock.

They all sat with their sundaes at a small window-view table, where Tracy watched cars zip past on the highway.

“Mommy, I wish he had a car like that,” she said, pointing at a red 911 Porsche, parked outside.

Paul chuckled. “Wow, she has expensive taste for a little girl, doesn't she?” he said to Patti.

“I'm not a
little girl,
” Tracy responded to him. She started to kick her feet under the table while eating her sundae. She accidentally kicked Paul.

“What's wrong with you, girl? Stop that!” Patti yelled, grabbing her daughter's feet.

“That's okay, she didn't mean it,” Paul interjected.

Tracy gave him an evil stare. “I gotta go pee,” she said.

“You have to use the
ladies' room,”
Patti sternly corrected her. She then rushed, hand in hand with her daughter, to the bathroom, leaving behind the half-finished sundaes.

Patti turned Tracy around by the shoulders once they had entered the bathroom. “What's wrong with you, girl?”

Tracy stared down at her patent leather shoes. “I don't like him. I wanna go home.”

Patti looked startled. “He's a nice man, honey. Why don't you like him?”

“Because he gets on my nerves.”

“He hasn't
done
anything to you, girl,” Patti said, looking into Tracy's eyes. “Well, do you have to go or what?”

“N-o-o, I just wanna go h-o-o-me.”

Patti sighed and led her daughter back to the melted sundaes at their table. “Look, Paul, she wants to go home. I'm sorry about this.”

Paul nodded to her. “Don't worry about it. I know how kids can get,” he said, setting a dollar tip on the table.

Tracy reached out to take the money.

“Put that back, girl!” Patti shouted at her.

Tracy cracked a mischievous smile. “I was just playin'.”

Patti snatched her by the hand. “Now
you're
getting on
my
nerves. You're eight years old, and still acting like a spoiled baby.”

Tracy giggled and climbed into the car for the long ride home. Patti knew that Paul had failed. Tracy didn't like him. It was unfair, but there was nothing that Patti could do about it. She would have to turn Paul down. Tracy didn't seem to like any of her mother's dates. And she definitely was not ready for anyone to take the place of her father.

“How 'bout we do this again sometime?” Paul asked when they arrived at Patti's front door. She had never invited a man inside of the house. Dave was still paying the bills, and Patti gave him that respect.

She answered Paul with knifing eyes, “I'm sorry, but I really don't think so.”

“Well, we'll just leave the girl home next time,” Paul suggested.

Patti unlocked the door. Paul tried to follow her in after Tracy. Patti glared back at him, stopping him before he strutted in. “And what are we gonna do, have a relationship without my daughter being involved?” she piped at him.

“No, I'm not saying that, but you and I need a little more time alone before we can work things out with her.”

“No, that's all right,” Patti said. She wished to end the date as quickly as possible, but Paul was making it difficult.

“Well, okay, I had a nice time. How 'bout you?” he asked, still appearing cheerful.

“Please, let's not get into this,” Patti told him. “I have to think about things before I decide to go out with you again. And I'm sorry for the inconvenience.”

Paul nodded and said, “Okay,” as Patti slowly closed the door on
him. He paced to his car, finally pissed off. “Damn kid!” he mumbled as he headed down the walkway.

Patti shook her sleepy daughter from the couch. “Wake up, girl, and go on upstairs to bed,” she huffed.

“What, mommy?”

“You've just ruined my night, girl, that's
what.”

“You
wanted me to g-o-o.”

“You still didn't have to act like you did, Tracy.”

Tracy struggled to her feet and began a sullen walk up the stairs.

Patti calmed herself as she followed her. Tracy's comment surprised her, but she was right. Patti had wanted her daughter to test the man, and he had failed. Plain and simple.

“Ay Mercedes, come here for a second,” the boy named Kevin called from behind. He always wore a baseball hat shoved down on his smooth, dark-brown face, right above his thin eyebrows. Kevin lived across the street. Mercedes had watched him playing football in the street with his friends for years.

“So you 'sposed to be talkin' to my boy Wallace?” he asked her.

“No, I don't like him,” she answered with a frown. “Why?”

“Because, I wanted your phone number,” Kevin told her nervously. He had watched her over the years as well.

“I can't give out mine. But I can take yours, though.”

Kevin wrestled out a piece of paper and a pencil from his book-bag. “That's a bet,” he said, writing his number down.

“Umm, Kevin, don't tell your friend that I don't like him, because I don't want him getting all mad at me. Okay?” Mercedes asked him. She was well aware of how boys acted when they were rejected. Her father had been a good example of that. Keith had fits all the time. Everything had to be
his
way.

“Oh, aw'ight. But when you gon' call me?” Kevin said to her.

“Tonight.”

“Oh, bet. Like what time?”

“Like around eleven-thirty, when my father goes to sleep.”

“What, you can stay up that late? I thought you had to go to sleep
early.”

Mercedes smiled at him, bashfully.
“I do,
but that's the only time that I can talk to you without my parents
jumpin' down my back,
because they're real strict and all.”

Kevin smiled. “So you gon' risk getting caught to call me? Oh,
I
must be
the man
then.”

“Yup,” Mercedes told him with a laugh. “So you're gonna be up?”

“Yeah, I'll be up.”

Mercedes grinned. “All right then, I'll call you.”

Kevin nodded and said, “Cool.”

Mercedes walked into the house, smiling from ear to ear. She wanted to show her father that he could
not
rule her life. She had done everything that he had asked, and was still punished, getting beatings with her younger sister. Mercedes despised her father. And if Keith had anything to say about her boyfriends, she vowed to make
his
life as miserable as
he
had made
hers.

Mercedes called Kevin that night and the other nights that followed. She began to smoke cigarettes in school with her girlfriends, buying Wrigley's chewing gum to hide the smell. She collected more phone numbers from neighborhood boys who were attracted to her. She turned down most of the “Catholic-school boys.” Mercedes wasn't interested in
them.
And in a matter of weeks, she had met enough new boys to become an item.