Outcast (6 page)

Kevin didn't have Tirrell's temper, but his presence and manner of speech could be as intimidating as both his father and grandfather. By the time Kevin had learned of Tirrell's existence he was just about to graduate from South Cobb High School. He'd overheard his mother, Gloria, and his father, Curtis, arguing about the “Latin whore” he'd been cheating with. That revelation tore at the heart of the relationship he'd enjoyed with his father, believing that he was his only son.

Before Kevin went off to college, he was already distancing himself from his father. He died while he was away and Kevin never forgave himself for not being there, and he couldn't bring himself to forgive his father for what he'd done to their family. Kevin heaped all of his unresolved rage on to Tirrell. It didn't help that Betty wasn't particularly impartial when it came to the unexpected new addition. “Tirrell needs me. He doesn't have anybody else,” she'd say. When Kevin came back to visit for holidays it galled him to see Tirrell living in his grandparents' house—calling her “Noonie.”

There wasn't a lot of conversation that passed between Kevin and Pat on the ride home. She filed through his music collection and found the John Legend CD that he liked and slid it into the player. Patricia Ellis had a no-nonsense way about her that Kevin was attracted to from the first time they met.

He shot her a side-glance and smiled. “You think that's gonna help?”

“It couldn't hurt.”

He reached for her hand and kissed it, allowing the easy melodies to pacify him. Pulling into the driveway of their suburban Alpharetta home, Kevin inhaled and exhaled slowly as he lay back on the headrest before turning off the ignition.

He got out and pulled his sleeping son from the car seat in the back. Pat went ahead and unlocked the front door. Kevin proceeded on up the stairs to put Micah down for the night. The boy barely woke up while his father pulled off his church clothes and slipped him into his pajamas.

Pat stepped into the doorway of her son's room. “I can warm the cobbler up if you want some.”

“No. I'm good.”

“Okay, I'll put it in the refrigerator.”

Kevin kissed his son good night. He went up the hall to the master bedroom, pulled off his clothes, and got ready for bed. Pat was half out of her dress when she came back up the stairs.

“Can you believe this shit?” Kevin seethed, climbing into bed. “If I had known all Noonie wanted was to spring Tirrell on us, I never would have agreed to go to dinner.”

“C'mon, baby. I thought you were over all of that. Let it go.”

“I am over it.”

“You don't sound like it.”

She stepped out of her dress and went to hang it in the walk-in closet before proceeding into the bathroom to shower. Kevin was half-heartedly watching the news when she returned.

She brushed her layered brunette locks back behind her ears and sat down on the bed to continue her nightly regimen, squeezing lotion into her hands and smoothing it on her long, silky legs. “You used to help me with this, remember?”

Kevin cozied up next to her. He pulled her legs onto his lap, filled his hands with lotion, and absently rubbed it in. “I caught him with something when I went out on the porch earlier.”

“You're not gonna let this go, are you?”

He shook his head and sighed.

“Okay, what was it?”

“I don't know. It could have been a piece of paper—it could have been something else.”

“Like what?”

“Knowing Tirrell, it was probably a bag of weed.”

“Did you ask him about it?”

“If it was drugs, he wouldn't have owned up to it. I just don't want any shit when it comes to Noonie. I'll be glad when his ass goes back to North Carolina. Maybe he'll end up pulling a tour in Iraq or Afghanistan—anywhere but here.”

“Stop. You don't mean that.”

“He needs to grow up, baby.”

“He has to find his own way, Kevin. You can't make him be what you want him to be.”

“I want him to be gone.”

“Kevin. You're not kids anymore. Like it or not, he is your brother.”

The look in Kevin's eyes let her know that he was resolute. They turned off the lamps on their respective sides of the bed and Pat wrapped her arm around his hairy chest. She then offered her lips for his kiss.

“Good night.”

“That's it,” he sulked.

“I've got to get up early. You know all the overtime I've had to pull lately.”

Pat turned her back to Kevin with her rear pressed into his crotch. He was too wound up to sleep. He kissed her shoulder and gently ran his hand up under her nightgown.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“What does it feel like?” he teased, thrusting his erection forward.

“Kevin, I gotta get up early.”

“I'm up now.”

His hand swept over her soft buttocks to the front of her thighs. His fingers made their way under the elastic of her panties and tugged at them until they found what they were searching for. Pat acquiesced, turned over, and opened her legs, allowing him better access. He pressed his mouth onto hers and pulled off his boxers. He then slid her panties off and kissed and sucked a trail down her neck, shoulders, and breasts.

“I can't be late for work,” she panted.

“I'll write you a note.”

He came up on his knees with the head of his penis aimed at its target. His hands gently caressed the supple flesh of her inner thighs as he worked his way downward. Pat gasped and arched her back upward; her nipples were prone for attention. After massaging her clitoris to rapture his nimble fingers glided up her stomach toward the mounds of flesh that eagerly awaited his touch. He didn't disappoint. His tongue lapped and his lips sucked each one with passion and fervor. Slowly working his hips he pressed into her and she opened up to receive him.

“Damn.”

After a while he bucked and grunted until the muscles in his backside, thighs, and legs stiffened.

“Damn,” he cried, jerking into orgasm.

He collapsed onto her, smothering her with kisses until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

Tirrell and his issues were no longer of paramount concern.

Tirrell's repeated attempts to call Tasha went unanswered. He thought about going to her apartment, but taking the train at this hour on a Sunday night was out of the question. Betty was already off to bed. He sat in solitude outside on the porch, smoking a cigarette, surrounded by the stars. It was a clear night. Weathermen clamored about the drought, and the grass in and around the neighborhood testified to that fact. He listened to Bobby's message about the “gift” he'd left in his pocket, and decided to call Marquis.

“Hello.”

“Hey, boy, whudup?”

A long silence, as dry as the weather, followed.

“Marquis, you there?”

“Yeah, I'm here.”

“Look, man. I was just callin' to set the record straight and apologize for yesterday.”

“It's cool. I understand.”

“It's just that I got bored sittin' at home and Bobby came by and we rode out. One thing led to another and, well, you know how it is.”

“Yeah, I know how it is.”

“I wasn't tryin' to dis you or nothin'. I really wanted all of us to hang. I'm sorry about comin' by your job and actin' a fool like that, too. I still hope you can talk to your pops about me workin' there.”

Another pause.

“Marquis?”

“If you get the job he's not gonna want Bobby Williams hangin' out up there.”

“He won't. If you get me on I'll keep Bobby away.”

“Okay, I'll talk to him, but I can't make any promises.”

“We still boys?”

“Yeah, we're good.”

“That's what's up. I'll holla at you tomorrow, a'ight?” Squashing his cigarette and ensuring it was completely out, Tirrell pulled the pouch from his pocket and looked over his shoulder to see if Betty might be peering out through the drapes at the window. He stuck his finger in the bag and licked off the excess.

“‘I know I got to be right now . . . 'cause I can't get no wronger.'”

 

 

Tasha stared at the ringing phone and forced herself not to answer. She wasn't ready to hear another one of Tirrell's patented excuses for bad behavior—but she was weak. He possessed a magnetism that she found hard to resist no matter his faults. That incomprehensible pull that made her stay with him even though she felt she should have moved on long ago. Sometimes she could see this angry little boy inside the façade of the man she knew he tried to be—the one he could be if given the chance. She rationalized that his sometimes erratic behavior justified one of the most difficult decisions she ever had to make.

Thank God for her cousin, Darnell. If he hadn't been there she would have completely fallen apart. Despite Darnell's counsel, she wanted to forgive Tirrell. She wanted to love him. In many ways she felt she needed to. She'd convinced herself that they were good together, even in the face of contradiction. She sat as the phone continued to ring, recalling the first time she witnessed his anger. They'd only been dating a few weeks and had gone Rollerblading in the park. A man jogging by them inadvertently made a comment about her rear end and Tirrell went ballistic. She could hear Darnell's voice: “Cousin, you a damn fool. His dick can't be that good.” But there was a side to Tirrell that he didn't show everybody. He could be disarmingly charming when he chose to be. At the time Tasha told herself that he was defending her honor—but it was more territorial than that.

Tirrell was a brash nineteen-year-old when they met; she was twenty-two. He was riding the MARTA train to visit a friend and she was on her way to work. She smiled. He winked and smiled back. He got off at her stop despite his previous destination. They shared coffee and conversation and soon forgot all about their other obligations.

“How old are you?”

“How old do I have to be to apply for the job?”

“What job?”

“As your man.”

She laughed. His flirtation was corny and appealing at the same time, and it didn't take long before she discovered that he was a more-than-satisfying lover; but sex wasn't love.

In time, her heart and her desire began to overrule her logic. How many times had she swallowed her dignity and looked past his indiscretions? How much more was she willing to take?

Tirrell sat staring at the application as if it were the SATs. His answers could mean the difference between getting a job and remaining unemployed.

“Have you ever been convicted of a felony?”

“Have you ever served in the military?”

He leaned back in the chair and tapped the pen on the table in front of him and contemplated how to answer. He decided to leave it blank.

Though he was a bit distant, Marquis did get him in to see his father, who promptly grilled him about everything from an oil change and engine block to rebuilding a transmission. After the interview, Tirrell reluctantly opened up to Mr. Crawl about what happened with the Army. The man was unpredictably supportive.

“I know how these things can happen,” he said. “You don't have to worry, I won't say anything to your grandmother or Anne. As long as you do good work and keep yourself in check we can work it out. Can you start Wednesday morning?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right then.” Mr. Crawl stood up and shook Tirrell's hand. “We open at seven. Don't be late.”

“Thank you, Mr. Crawl. I'll be here. I swear I won't let you down.”

After the interview, Tirrell found Marquis elbow deep inside the bowels of a Chevy Impala.

“So, how did it go?”

“I got the job.”

“That's what's up, T.”

“Yeah, your pops was real cool about the Army thing. Thanks for puttin' the word in, man.”

“It's all good.”

“You, uh, you wanna go grab some lunch? Wherever you want to go—on me?”

“Shoot,” Marquis responded with a smile. “Free food. Hell yeah! Just give me a minute to clean up.”

It wasn't an outrageous gesture, but if a seven dollar buffet was the olive branch it took to get him back on track with his best friend, Tirrell would have gladly bought Marquis's lunch for the next month. He could only hope, as he rode the train to see Tasha, making up with her would be as easy.

Tirrell glared stared through the window of the Head-2Toe salon. Each of the seven stations was brightly lit, stocked with all the products, towels, and curlers the operators worked with. Mirrors and posters displaying the latest in hairstyles and hair care were showcased on the walls. He spotted Tasha in the back finishing a client's hair. There were a few other people inside. At least if she made a scene there wouldn't be too many witnesses.

Darnell, who also worked there as a stylist, announced Tirrell's entrance.

“Well, look who's here. Magnum, P.I., everybody.” He applauded.

“Jealous, Darnell?”

“You wish.”

Tirrell grabbed his crotch. “You wouldn't know what to do with all this.”

“Try me.”

“I'll pass.”

Tasha looked up and returned to her client. Tirrell made his way to the back of the shop.

“Baby, can I talk to you for a minute?”

She ignored him.

“Please?”

“I don't wanna talk to you right now, Tirrell. I'm workin'.”

“Can you take a break or somethin'?”

“Go away, Tirrell.” Tasha offered a mirror to the woman in her chair. The woman admired Tasha's work as Tirrell stood by impatiently.

“Girl, I love it. You know you can do some hair,” the woman said enthusiastically.

Tasha removed the nylon cape from around her client's neck as the woman reached into her purse for money.

“I'll see you next week. Same time?”

“You know it.”

Tasha reached for a broom to tidy up around her work station, continuing to ignore Tirrell, as the woman left the shop.

“Baby, c'mon,” Tirrell pleaded. “Talk to me.” Tasha sighed and started toward the back room with Tirrell in tow.

“I've been tryin' to call you,” he said.

“You didn't leave a message.”

“I didn't want to talk to your voice mail. I wanted to talk to you. I needed to explain about what happened the other night.”

“Look, Tirrell, I don't doubt that you can talk your way out of whatever did or didn't happen Saturday night. Hell, you're even smooth enough to come up with a plausible lie for why you came home stinkin' like the skanky ho you were with, but it doesn't matter. Maybe we should just cut our losses and call this whole thing off so you can be with whoever you want to be with.”

“Tasha, I don't wanna be with nobody else. I wanna be with you.”

“Why, Tirrell? Huh? You don't love me.”

“You don't want me to say it just so you can hear it, do you?”

“No, dammit, not if you don't mean it. But, I wanna be in a relationship with a man who wants to be in a relationship with me.”

Darnell pushed the door open and stuck his head inside. “Cousin, are you okay in here?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.”

Darnell smirked and stared at Tirrell. “Don't make me whup yo' ass up in here. I may be gay, but I'm still a man!”

“Whatever,” Tirrell spat.

“Look,” Tasha injected. “That was my last client for the day. I think I'm just gonna take off early and head home.”

Darnell cut his eyes toward Tirrell. “Do you need me to walk you to your car, cousin? You know it's all kinds of unscrupulous characters lurkin' around these days.”

“I think I can handle him,” Tasha responded.

Tirrell reached out and grabbed her hand. “Could you give me a ride?”

“Why don't you go home the same way you got here?”

“Tasha.”

She shook her head. “Shit. All right, come on.”

Tasha collected her purse and shut off the overhead light at her station. Whispers and muffled laughter trailed her and Tirrell out of the shop.

She clicked the remote to unlock the doors of the car and they got in. “They're laughing at me,” she observed. “They're probably thinkin' what a fool I am.”

“Who cares what other people think, Tasha?”

“I care. I gotta work here.”

She started the car and pulled off the lot. “I'm tired of goin' back and forth with you, Tirrell.”

He turned on the radio and scanned the stations until he came upon his favorite song playing. He glanced over at Tasha. He knew she was serious. Despite the music it was an uncomfortably quiet ride.

They pulled up outside Betty's house. Tasha shifted the gear into park, but didn't turn off the ignition.

Tirrell turned off the radio and glared out the passenger window. “I got kicked out of the Army,” he said flatly. “I was discharged because I got in a fight and almost killed this dude.”

He could see her reflection as she turned toward him. He pressed on. “It was some stupid crap between me and this other private. We both had a little too much to drink one night and shit got out of hand. Some things were said and one thing led to another. We fought and he ended up in the infirmary. I told Noonie that I was on leave because I couldn't let her know what really went down. I wouldn't be able to take the look of disappointment in her eyes.”

For the most part the story was true. Tirrell saw no real benefit in telling Tasha about the girl he slept with. It would have only exacerbated the situation.

Tasha shut off the ignition. Tirrell faced straight ahead.

“You know it's hard for me to open up. I'm not good with sayin' I love you, you know that. My mom and Noonie are the only ones I could ever say it to and mean it.”

“It's not the same thing, Tirrell.”

He looked at Tasha. “I know it's not the same thing, but I still have a hard time sayin' it. I know I fucked up, but I don't wanna lose you. I know what you wanna hear, but I'm not ready. Give me some time to figure all this shit out. I know I'm askin' for a lot. If you can't . . . If you don't want to . . . I understand.”

Tirrell's vulnerability was disarming—his eyes even managed to tear. She kissed him softly on the lips. He followed with a more passionate one.

“What are you going to do now?”

“Believe it or not, I got a job down at the garage with Marquis. It's not the Army, but it's somethin'.”

“You're gonna have to tell Miss Betty soon.”

“I know, but not yet.”

“She's gonna get suspicious when it's time for you to go back. What are you gonna say then?”

Tirrell shook his head. “I don't know. Maybe by then I won't be so scared of the truth.”

Tasha stroked his cheek. “Thank you for at least telling me.”

“Do you wanna come in? There's some peach cobbler left from yesterday.”

Tasha looked up toward the house. “I don't think I need anything to eat. I'm too big as it is.”

“Stop doin' that. You're not fat. I wish you wouldn't put yourself down. There's nothin' wrong with you, girl.” He leaned in and kissed her again. “C'mon, we'll be quiet so we don't wake Noonie up.”

The pair got out of the car and headed hand in hand into the house. They found Betty reclined in her favorite leather chair perched in front of the television. The opening door startled her awake and the
TV Guide
slid off her lap to the floor.

“Well, look a'here,” she said, clearing her throat. She readjusted her reading glasses and sat up.

“Noonie, I'm sorry,” Tirrell said. “I didn't mean to wake you up.”

“Don't worry about it, baby.” Betty smiled at Tasha. “I guess everything is all right with you two.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Tasha responded.

“I invited Tasha in for some cobbler,” Tirrell added.

“Oh, well let me go warm it up for you.”

“You don't need to do that, Noonie,” Tirrell insisted. “I can get it. You should go on to bed. We'll try not to make too much noise.”

Betty yawned. “Well, all right. I guess I will. Y'all eat as much as you want, hear? There's a little bit of meatloaf left in there, too.”

Tirrell kissed his grandmother on the forehead. “We'll manage. You get some sleep, okay?”

“Good night, baby.”

Betty gave Tasha a hug and squeeze before retiring to her room. Tirrell turned off the television and he and Tasha went into the kitchen.

Tasha leaned against the counter, smiling, as she watched Tirrell fill two bowls with heaping spoonfuls of cobbler and pop them into the microwave. He turned and noted the expression on her face.

“What?”

She shook her head. “Just watching you. I can see how much you love your grandmother and I can see how much she loves you. I know if you told her what happened she'd understand.”

Tirrell shook his head in disagreement. “I'm just not ready to deal with it.”

The beeping microwave interrupted the emotions that started to well up inside him. He pulled a carton of vanilla ice cream from the freezer and topped the steaming delight with a scoop.

Sitting together quietly at the kitchen table, Tasha's eyes filled with the unspoken sentiments that kept her connected to this man who found it hard to commit, and at that moment she convinced herself, as she had so many times before, that it didn't matter. Maybe it wasn't love that held her, but guilt; after all, she was no saint either. She had her secrets too.