Team Mom (6 page)

At twenty-eight and raising a son all alone, Shonda Black didn't have too many chances to travel to downtown Atlanta or up to Buckhead to see what they offered. She had never held a grudge about it, because she loved her son. At this point it didn't matter, because she was painting the town now. She promised herself it would not be her first and last time.

“Did you enjoy the room service?” Coach asked.

Shonda moved farther down on the bed, enjoying the thread count. “You know I did,” she told him.

He said, “We could have done Ruth's Chris. . . . As a matter of fact, if you want to go over there for a drink, we can.”

“Uh-uh. I'm good right here in this bed, next to you, sipping on this wine and looking at the view of the city.”

Coach asked Shonda if she was sure she was okay.

“Yes. Who would have thought yesterday that tonight I would be on club level at the InterContinental Hotel? You have outdone yourself, sir.”

They were both looking out at the skyline. They had to be looking south, because they could see downtown Atlanta clearly.

“I owe Jarques's friend's mother, Jackie, such a huge favor for letting Jarques stay over.”

“Yes, she helped to make this happen,” Coach replied.

Shonda sat up a bit. “Wow. I just thought of something. Pretty soon he will be able to just stay at home alone if Mama wants to get away,” she mused. “Hell, college is knocking on the door, if you want to get technical.” She had some of her wine. “I hope he's ready for all that.”

Coach was looking directly at his beauty queen. “We talk to them about that all the time. It's just not football with us. We are trying to get these young men to understand that going to college is the best choice in these times, and that's if you're playing football or not.”

Shonda told Coach, “And that's exactly why I brought him over to your team, because that is the word on the streets about you. The word is that you care.”

“People say that about me?”

“You're a legend, baby.” She began to laugh; then she returned to the topic at hand. “It's just that since he was a little boy, I have tried to tell him that whatever he wants in life, he can get it if he works at it, but I have always wondered if those words would mean more coming from a man.”

“I grew up with my mom,” Coach revealed.

Shonda could see Coach go back into his memory bank. She would never forget how he looked after telling her about his wife and kids. That night, even through the darkness, his pain was so clear.

Coach was looking back at the skyline now. “But my pops, he was always around, but not
around.
You know what I mean? Come in some days or . . . not. He wasn't too talkative. Not one word about girls or what it meant to be a man. I think he thought that my seeing him every once in a while was good enough, because, you know, none of my friends had their dads, either.”

“So, you never heard those words coming out of a man's mouth, either?”

“No.”

“And you've done very well with your life. So it's possible,” Shonda said, realization dawning.

“Sure it is.”

Coach and Shonda sat looking at the city in silence.

A few minutes later Coach said out of the blue, “Maybe we should tell J about us.”

She turned to him, her wineglass still in her hand.

Coach made himself clear. “I would like to tell your son about us. Then I can help you get the message to him about achievement and goals. You know, lead by example on a daily basis.”

Shonda looked deep into his eyes for what seemed like minutes. Coach was not sure if he had made her upset, especially when her eyes began to tear.

“You okay?”

Shonda cleared her throat before she spoke. “Coach, listen, I have made a lot of mistakes in my life. I mean, a lot. Look at me. Had a child at fourteen, didn't make his father accept responsibility, and was crazy enough to think I could do it all by myself. Do you know I have practically cried myself to sleep every night for the last fourteen years? So . . . when you ask me something like that, I feel good, but I get very protective.”

The look on Coach's face told Shonda he didn't understand.

“Look, when Jarques finally realized that he wasn't going to have a dad in his life, I went out and tried to find a man who could fill the void—another one of my mistakes in life. I mean, I have never had a problem with men approaching me and wanting to get to know me, and there were times when I would go with a man and after the first few dates try to push my son on him, and it made men resent me. It made men resent him too and exhibit all types of hatred because he was in the way. They knew the only way to me was to put up with him, in the right way, not just any way. So, when you tell me you want to teach him things, I get protective because I don't want it to be because you want to get next to me. You already have me.”

Coach said, “I understand. I understand everything you're saying. Just know that I was going to be a father. And I couldn't wait to be a father. I get what you're saying. I want to do it because it needs to be done. And that's the only reason why.”

Shonda's plan the next day was to pick up her son, Jarques, from his friend's house and then go home. However, she was in such a good mood that after Jarques got in the car, she got on I-20 west and headed to Six Flags for a day of fun with him. They hadn't been there since he was eight or nine years old, and once she thought about it, she realized this could be the last time they would ever go together. Time was just beginning to move by so quickly, and like she told Coach, soon he would be on his way to college.

Shonda enjoyed the park much more when Jarques was a little boy and the only rides he could go on were ones she could stomach. While they were at the park, her son had her on so many different stomach-churning, floor-dropping, fast-moving machines that she thought she would lose her mind. When they finally were home, she retreated to her bedroom and lay down, trying to rest and get her faculties back in order because she had to go to work in the morning. She knew the doorbell would be ringing soon, but she was so out of it that when it did, Jarques had to answer the door.

“Hey, Coach,” Jarques said.

“What's up, J? You doing all right?”

The young buck nodded his head. “You here to see my mom about something for the team? 'Cause she's asleep right now.”

“Actually, I came to see you.”

Jarques looked at Coach. “Me?”

“Yeah. C'mon out on the porch so we can chat.”

Jarques had his Madden game on full blast and looked back at the television screen, then back at Coach. Reluctantly, he went out on the porch to see what Coach wanted.

The porch was actually only big enough for one person to stand on, so Coach stood right before the first step and Jarques stood on the top step. The boy gazed down his street to check out what was going on before he looked directly at Coach.

“So . . . how is everything today?” Coach wanted to know.

Jarques wondered what Coach wanted. He was waiting for Coach to continue, but whatever Coach had to say didn't come out fast enough, so Jarques asked him right out the reason behind his visit. “Coach, did you come over here to tell me that you were going out with my mom?”

Jarques's question seemed to make Coach swallow whatever words he was trying to get out of his mouth. He cleared his throat. “How'd you know that? I mean, yes, yes, that's why I'm here,” he said.

“Okay,” Jarques told him.

“Okay?” Coach repeated.

“Yeah, okay. I was wondering if you were going to say something or just keep acting like it wasn't happening.”

Coach said, “No, no. I mean, I wanted to come to you like a man.”

“Okay.”

“So, you're okay with it?” Coach wanted to know.

“Yeah, I said, ‘Okay.'”

There was a very awkward moment of silence.

Jarques gazed down the street again. “Uh, Coach, I don't really want to be seen out here just staring at you.”

Coach looked around. “Okay, yeah. Right.”

“See you at practice,” Jarques told him, right before he turned around to go back in the house.

Coach reached for him but didn't make contact. “J, wait a minute. Tell me something. How'd you know? How'd you know we were going out?”

Jarques took a deep breath. “Really, Coach?”

“Yeah, really. Tell me.”

Jarques looked up and down the street again, then exhaled. “Okay, I'll put it like this. I knew something was up when she started making me breakfast every morning.”

Coach was listening intently. “Oh, okay . . . breakfast. Got it.”

“Yeah, that's right. And I knew because when I came home from practice, dinner was always made. I knew because she started to whisper on the phone and bring home leftovers from weird places. I knew because she's been listening to music and singing along as it plays. I knew because she's been trying to help me with my homework, and I don't even need it. I knew because if I made a very small mistake, like forgetting to put my plate up or taking out the trash, she wouldn't yell at me about it. I knew because every day is a day of encouragement, so much so that I can barely stand it. And I knew because every day she's been waking up with a smile on her face and she seems happy. That's how I knew, Coach. And guess what, Coach?”

Coach was blown away. “Yeah, yeah? What's that?”

“I've seen this all before . . . so, Coach?”

“I'm listening.”

“Don't fuck this up, 'cause living with her now, it's how it's supposed to be.”

For a few days Coach was able to get back into his normal routine of work, community meetings, and football practice afterward. The team had a big game coming up that could determine their position in the play-offs, so making sure the team understood that was on his mind. Earlier in the day, he'd sent flowers over to Shonda at her job. He'd signed the card, “Your secret admirer,” so when his cell phone started to ring while he sat at his desk, he was pretty sure he was seconds away from hearing her voice and answered the call.

A voice said back to him, “Damn, boy, you sure are answering that phone in a sexy way.”

Coach took the phone off his ear and looked at it, then placed it back so he could speak. “What? Who is this?”

“Put it like this, sexy man. I'm not who you wanted it to be.” There was a laugh afterward.

Coach realized who it was. “Mr. Tall, what do you want?”

“Hey, hope you're not busy, because I need you to come out to the neighborhood. A friend of mine, her house was broken into last night, when she was sleeping. When she woke up, they told her to stay in the bed and go back to sleep, or they'd whoop her like they used to do back in slavery.”

“They broke in while she was sleeping?”

Mr. Tall said, “She lives down the street from me. I'll meet you at my house as soon as you can, because I already told her you were on the way.”

Coach rushed to remind Mr. Tall that he did not patrol the streets anymore. “Look, I'm a public relations officer. I'm not on the street anymore. . . .” There was silence on the other end. He removed the phone from his ear, looked at it, put it back to his ear, and then said, “Hello? Hello?”

It took Coach about five minutes to rearrange the time of a planned meeting and leave the station to meet with Mr. Tall. When he pulled up in his police cruiser, Mr. Tall was standing in the driveway in a peacoat and small brown tweed apple hat, with his hands in his pockets, fighting off the chill of the day. Coach parked the car at the curb in front of the house and stepped out, leaving the door open and the car running.

Coach called, “C'mon. Get in. I'll drive you down.”

“Uh-uh,” Mr. Tall answered.

Coach was a bit agitated. The pitch of his voice was much higher than normal. “Mr. Tall, say what?”

Mr. Tall said, “Let's walk.”

“Walk?” Coach repeated, then looked at his watch and then back at Mr. Tall.

“Yeah. So whoever is doing this might see you.”

Coach looked at his police car, then back at Mr. Tall again. “Are they blind or some shit? 'Cause I'm in a black and white.”

“C'mon, man . . . let's walk. I'm telling you, I know this neighborhood.”

Coach got back in his car with an attitude now, turned it off, grabbed his jacket, hopped out, and shut the door. “Which way?”

“Down this way.” Mr. Tall gestured with his hand, then looked over at Coach. “Look, listen here. Where's your gun?”

Coach followed Mr. Tall's eyes and looked down at his waist, then back at Mr. Tall. “My gun?”

“Yeah. Where is it?”

“I need a gun? If I need a gun, I got to call for some backup, man.”

Mr. Tall said, “Probably not. I just want to know where yours is.”

“I don't carry it,” Coach said, looking down the street.

“And you're on the police force?”

“Yup,” Coach answered.

“With no gun?”

“That's what I said.”

“You ever heard of sitting ducks?” Mr. Tall asked.

“Of course I have.”

“Well, we're what you call sitting bitches. C'mon. Let's get our asses down this street before we get fucked up,” Mr. Tall said.

During their walk down the street, which was called Blue Ridge Lane, Mr. Tall gave Coach the name of every person who lived on the block, along with a breakdown of those who at one time had lived in a few of the vacant homes up and down the street. It took only a few minutes to get to their destination. They walked up the driveway of the all-brick home with the nice, well-kept yard.

Mr. Tall paused before he knocked on the door.

“Be cool, man. At one time or another me and her . . . well, you know.”

When the door opened, a small woman who had long black hair and who looked to be of Indian decent appeared. She smiled. “Theadore, as always you kept your word. Is this your friend?” she asked right before she let them in.

Coach introduced himself. Told her he was with the police department. She told him her name was Lois Gregory and she was a retired schoolteacher. Then she led them into her living room and invited them to sit. Coach took a quick look around and noticed lots of photos in frames.

She wanted to be clear about Coach's identity. “So this is the officer, Theadore?”

“Yes, indeed. This is him. He is police. I work with him down on the field.”

She surveyed Coach. “So where's your gun?”

Coach inched up on the couch to make himself more comfortable. “Ma'am, I work in public relations for the police department.” Then he looked at Mr. Tall and frowned. “As a matter of fact, I have been working with this community, this neighborhood, to try to put a stop to all the break-ins. We've had a few meetings. Have you attended?”

Lois shook her head. “I wish I could have attended. But I can't. It seems every time I leave this place, my house is either broken into or some type of damage happens to it. I don't know who is doing it, but they are just like those terrorists that they are talking about on the news.”

“Do you have any idea who might be doing this?” Coach asked.

“Nope.” She looked at Mr. Tall, then back at Coach. “You're the police, right?”

Coach nodded. “Yes. I promote the department and hear community concerns.”

“Oh, really?” she said.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Well, if you ask me, if the community concerns were taken care of, that would be a hell of a promotion for the police department, no?”

Coach said, “I understand, but I just take the information I have to submit it to those who work the streets.”

Lois became quiet, drawing everyone in the room in. Then she said, “Things just can't be like this. They can't. Do you have a mother, Officer?”

“She passed some years ago,” Coach told her.

“Well, God bless her soul,” she said. “But tell me, how would you feel if she was afraid to leave her home or to go to sleep at night? You know, I thought about getting a dog. But a dog can't live inside here forever. He has to get out too. This is where I live, and I need to feel safe. Now these hoodlums break into my home, walk around in it while I'm sleeping, and tell me to be quiet, or they are going to beat me like they used to do back in slavery. This has to stop. Now.”

Coach sat with Lois and Mr. Tall for over an hour. She told Coach how in her younger days she had envisioned living when she became a senior citizen and how she was actually living now were worlds apart. Coach didn't like the fact that a woman who'd given so many years of her life to teaching kids was being taken advantage of by those she had most likely taught at one time or another. But because his job was in public relations, all he could do was listen and let her know that he would try his best to make sure that those who worked the streets made her neighborhood safe again.