Upstate (23 page)

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Authors: Kalisha Buckhanon

BOOK: Upstate
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I told her a lot, mostly about us being friends and kids together, but I didn't tell her everything. There are things about us that I probably won't ever tell anybody. What I did tell her, I'm sure you'll hear about later. The whole time we were talking, I was looking around the apartment for signs of you—a picture, size 11 shoes resting at the door, a jacket thrown over a chair, a hairbrush, a scent. There was nothing. Everything was neatly put away, tucked in its place in your little domestic life. Finally, I asked to go to the bathroom, and I saw some cologne resting on the sink's ledge: Obsession, for men. I don't know why, but I put it in my purse—then thought twice and put it back. After two hours of talking and countless pictures and a few helpings of turkey and dressing, the baby was fussy and Rhonda was nodding off. She told me I didn't have to leave, that you should be home soon, and if I had a cell phone I could call you since you guys had no phone. But in my haste I had left the house without it, and I started to panic about seeing you again anyway, especially there in another woman's house. Antonio, Rhonda really loves you; I can see it all over her face. I thanked her and left, only to walk back after she shut the door. I wrote out a check for $100—the baby
gift I was supposed to be there to drop off. I sat in my car for over an hour staring down the block, waiting for you to walk up the street, but then I was startled by two junkies who appeared out of nowhere to argue on my side of the car. I put the key in the ignition, started the engine, and headed to my mother's to “surprise” her even though I had told her she would be spending her first Christmas without me. I'll head back in the morning.
You don't have to bother to write back to thank me for the gift. You don't have to explain anything to me anymore. You don't have to believe that I never believed you did it, and even during the moments my mind started to wander slightly toward thinking that, I still loved the hell out of you anyway.
Merry Christmas,
Natasha
 
 
 
May 22, 1997
Hey Natasha,
 
You won't believe who I just ran into. Remember Mr. Cook? The English teacher who testified at my trial and came to visit me that one time. I saw him up on 125th Street, at the Mart. He said him and his wife had just bought a brownstone up by Mount Morris Park, and he was trying to decorate it. He was surprised to see me out, and I told him what had happened and how I had a bunch of people pulling for
me. He said, God smiled down on you, Antonio, and I'm glad that you're going to get a chance to live your life before it's too late. He's not a teacher anymore. Now he works at this place downtown that helps people from other countries learn the language and get their GEDs and stuff. He told me they were always looking for tutors and program assistants and he remembered that I was “very intelligent.” I laughed so hard, tears came out of my eyes when he said that. But he was like, No, Antonio, you were one of the brightest students I have ever had in my life. You just didn't apply yourself. Are you applying yourself now? No doubt, I told him. He said, Huh? I said, Yeah, I'm finally applying myself.
Peace out,
Antonio
 
 
 
August 28, 1997
Hey Natasha,
 
I saw an invitation to your wedding up at Laniece and Black's place. Sounds like it's gonna be hot. Way upstate? Honeymoon in Jamaica? Wow. I didn't even wanna know how much that cost, but Laneice said your man's people's was paying for the whole thing. Guess you hit the jackpot down there in law school. Found you somebody who could do something for you. Good work, kid, you deserve it.
Love,
Antonio
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
April 16, 1999
 
Hey Natasha. It's been a few years since we spoke to each other. I wanted to stop by that one Christmas after you came to my spot, which shocked the hell out of me for real, but then I figured you had already left and I was dog tired from working a double shift on Christmas anyway. I called your mother to try and get your number so I could call you, but she said that she had to check with you first. I don't know if she never told you, or if she told you and you don't want me calling you. I can understand if you don't. I mean, if you got a man, I don't want him assuming anything. I'll just let you know what's going on with me. I'm a supervisor at my job, which is sweet. More stability and more pay, so it's all good for now while I'm going to night school. I want to do some work with computers, make some real money. Michael going on three now. Here's a picture. When he was newborn I couldn't see myself in him and was wondering if he was mine at one point. But now he look just like his pops, right? What you think? Me and Rhonda ain't together no more, but that's okay. I had some issues with her dropping out of school and sitting on her ass at home all day. She claiming me and Mikey all she need, and I tried to tell her now wasn't the time to stop moving forward. I'm serious about making moves and elevating my status and she wasn't about that like I was, so I had to let her go. She's a good mother though, I gotta give her props for that. I guess her being gone got me thinking about old times right now, about
how me and you was crazy in love like the world was gonna end if we couldn't be together. I don't think you can feel that type of shit more than once, after you have it once and get older and understand that nothing is forever and everything can end in the blink of an eye—life, love, security, you name it. I got your address from your mother. She act like she didn't want to give it to me seeing as though you married and all right now with your little house in Jersey, which I could understand. I just wanted to see how you were doing. Let you know how important you are to me. I know you think what we had was just some kiddy shit, some old puppy love. Maybe that's what it was to you. But for me, it was way more than that. Your letters got me through. Your love made me feel like a human being in my darkest hours and I swear I couldn't have survived that shit without you. I have each and every one of your letters, Natasha. All of them in a bag I won't let nobody open. I just want to see you again to thank you and let you know how much you helped a brother. That's all I want.
Love,
Antonio
 
 
 
May 17, 1999
Antonio,
 
First of all I just want to tell you you better not ever, ever, ever show up at my house unannounced again!
What if my husband would have been here? He would have kicked your black ass. Just cause he's an accountant, make no mistake he's from the hood too.
But I must admit that it was good to see you. When I opened the door, and you were standing there in front of me, I couldn't even catch my breath. Kind of the way you said you felt the first time you saw me. You are beautiful, Antonio. You really are. Even after everything you've been through, you're still the most handsome man I ever laid eyes on. Your embrace felt like being swallowed whole by something good and pure and kind and genuine. I lost myself in you for a moment—lost in your eyes that are still shining even after all you been through. Then I remembered where and who I was.
I wish you could have stayed longer. I wish we could have talked more. I wish I could have cried “I Love You” forever. I wish we could have taken a long drive on the turnpike and talked to each other forever like we used to. Part of me wishes we could have made love, slow and naughty like two grown folks who've finally realized what the good stuff is. But I know that wouldn't have been smart. That wouldn't have been wise. That wouldn't have been right. I love my husband, and I'm going to love the baby we have on the way, just like you love your son. And although I felt for you what I've felt for no man since, I can't walk away from all I've worked hard to build up. If you would have asked me ten or fifteen years ago, when my father died and I was living in that shelter, if I would have my own house and be able to make enough
money to help my mom pay for a house, I would have laughed in your face. But I can. I do. I'm helping Drew get through college. I'm going to put my kids through college. I'm going to have that normal life I always wanted, what I always dreamed about. I wish I could have had that with you. If I could go back in time, I would have that with you right now. But I have a good man. A hardworking man and soon a child to think about. I wish it could be so simple that I could have followed my heart and followed you out the door, and we could go back to Harlem to our tiny apartments where nothing mattered in the world—nothing but the two of us, that is. But that's not life. Shutting the door on the man you never stopped loving, unfortunately, is.
I still have all your letters too, and that's how I'm going to have to remember you. Please don't come to my house again. If you do, I might do something stupid like run away with you.
Forever yours,
Natasha
 
 
 
May 21, 1999
Natasha,
 
I hope you open this. I got your letter, and know that this is the last one you'll ever get from me. I won't bother you ever again. You finally made it clear. What we had was beautiful
and necessary at the time, but it's over now. We aren't living in the past anymore. Now, it's all about the present—you got your life and I got mine. I got a son, an education to get, a job to maintain, a past to overcome. I apologize for showing up at your house without your consent, but I knew if I had asked to see you that you would have just blew me off.
Remember that time when we was walking home from school and we stopped by St. Nick Park to sit down for a minute and kiss? Remember that little white butterfly that came and sat on the back of the bench for a minute, then flew away when I tried to catch it for you? You told me that was the first butterfly you had ever seen in Harlem. It was the first one I had ever seen uptown too. I haven't seen one since.
Right now, it looks like the whole sky is filled with white butterflies. I'm standing at 158th and the George Washington Bridge, right at the walkway looking down at the water. I ripped all the letters you ever sent me up in little pieces, so small that anybody who finds a piece would barely be able to read the words. Little by little, I'm letting the wind carry the pieces away. They're flying and dancing and soaring like that butterfly we saw that day. I'm letting you go, Natasha. I'm finally letting go.
Love,
Antonio
UPSTATE. Copyright © 2005 by Kalisha Buckhanon. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
 
 
 
 
BOOK DESIGN BY DEBORAH KERNER/
DANCING BEARS DESIGN
 
 
eISBN 9781429902441
First eBook Edition : December 2011
 
 
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Buckhanon, Kalisha, 1977–
Upstate / Kalisha Buckhanon.—1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 0-312-33268-8
EAN 978-0312-33268-6
1. African American prisoners—Fiction. 2. African American women—Fiction. 3. Fathers—Death—Fiction. 4. New York (State)—Fiction. 5. New York (N.Y.)—Fiction. 6. Young adults—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3602.U264U67 2005
813'.6—dc22
2004056651

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