Portia and Alex sat on opposite sides of the card table in the tiny kitchen area next to the living room. Portia had boiled a saucepan of oatmeal for breakfast. It sat on a small stone coaster in the center of the table, accompanied by jars of brown sugar, maple syrup, and raisins. It was practical, if not elegant.
“Alex, can I ask you something?”
“Sure thing, P. You know you can ask me anything, anytime.”
Portia shrugged.
“I know how you feel about Darren, but I really need your input on something. Do you think I could raise my baby alone?”
“You said ‘my’ baby. What about Darren?”
“Darren’s not responsible enough to be a father.”
“How can you say that? He’s been working at that body shop ever since he got out of high school. That sounds responsible to me.”
“He’s only been out of school for two years, Alex.”
“He likes his job and he’s good at it.”
“He doesn’t like his job.”
“Of course he does.”
“He told me he wants to do something else.”
“There you have it. Not only is he sticking it out at a job he doesn’t like, he’s looking to make more of himself. What more could you ask for?”
“Alex, he says he wants to be a chef, but he doesn’t want to go to school. It sounds like it’s all pipe dreams, to me.”
“You haven’t even given him a chance.”
Portia exhaled deeply and went back to her oatmeal, carefully mixing in brown sugar and butter until the concoction was golden brown.
She didn’t think she had to give him a chance. She’d always seen him drinking or smoking. More often than not, she saw him doing both. It was just like her own parents, always drinking, no matter the time of day. She despised it growing up and would not raise her own child in that kind of environment.
After breakfast, Portia and Alex headed their separate ways. Alex headed to the warehouse and Portia went to school, where she bumped into Wendy between classes.
“Care if I sit with you for a moment?”
Portia patted the chair next to her. Wendy sat down.
“What’s up?” asked Portia.
“Nothing much, you?”
“Just thinking about life.”
“Ooh, heavy thoughts. What about life?”
“I’m just wondering if I can raise this baby alone.”
“Or course you can,” replied Wendy, “You know I’ve got a baby of my own and we’re doing just fine without the father.”
“You say it like it doesn’t matter to your child.”
“Of course a father matters. Why would I have told you about how important it is to have a father if I didn't think it was important. The father of my baby dad decided he wanted out, not me. Anyways, I’m getting child support from him and help from the government, too.”
“You can get welfare and child support at the same time?”
“You can get welfare even if you’re married. Welfare doesn’t have to be an entitlement anymore – it’s a way up and out.”
“Yeah, but…”
“No buts about it. Social programs are not there to create the welfare class. They’re there to help you get to point B, wherever that is for you. You’ve been listening to the wrong people.”
Wendy paused for a moment, waiting for Portia to reply. When she did not, Wendy looked her in the eyes and asked a simple question.
“Do you love this guy?”
Portia thought for a moment and then shook her head.
“There you have it. If he wants to help you, just let him. With a baby, you can always get help from somewhere – whether it’s food stamps or WIC coupons for the basics. If you don't love the father, he'll just be another distraction.”
"I guess you're right," replied Portia, "but the last time I saw you, you told me there had to be a father."
"I've been thinking about that ever since I saw you. I don't think it would work without love. I think love would get you through the rough patches. When it's just you and the kid, it's just you and the kid; no outside distractions."
Portia glanced at her watch. The time didn't matter. Listening to Wendy gave her too much to think about and it was time to get away from it for awhile.
"I gotta scoot. My next class starts soon."
Portia headed down the hall to an empty classroom. She sat at one of the desks and opened her book. Within seconds, the solitude of the empty classroom made her feel just like she was at home.
Although Alex's distraction was in jail, that didn't help him get away from a thing. Ramona left btoh an apartment and baby for Alex.
He visited Ace again, in search of another job.
"Hey George, where's Ace?"
George pointed to the back of the apartment.
"Hey, my man!" greeted Ace, "you still hungry?"
"As hungry as ever."
"Good, I got something for you."
Ace laid down the drive and the plan. Alex was headed to detroit. This time he was taking money and not drugs.
"Ace, I got a question."
"A'ight. Fire away."
"Have you ever thought about what happened to the drugs last time? I mean, why do you think you can trust me?"
"I know it wasn't you. George got the low-down on what happened from a cook at Carlisle Barracks. He said two guys were selling horse on the base. Nobody had been selling horse on the base but one guy. That guy was the cook. He got a couple of MPs involved. They shook the guys down, beat them up, and put them in the brig. My guess is the government will do the rest."
"So,i trust you. Plus, if someone cheats someone in this business, they may get away with it once, but not twice - and this ain't the police you're dealiing with. Prison is just the beginning of your troubles out here."
alex however, did not go straight to Detroit. He decided to stop by the old house and shut off all the utilities to save every penny he could. When he arrived at his house, he found two familiar cars in the driveway. Two unfamiliar cars sat in front of the house.
He went up to the door and let himself in.
"Phoebe! Tracie!"
A clamor came from the back of the apartment. In fac, there were noises from both bedrooms. Voices, male and female, accompanied the sounds of people scurrying around in each of the bedrooms, throwing clothes on their bodies.
Alex waited in the living room until he heard Tracie emerging into the hall. Another door opened. Tracie and Phoebe whispered in the back hallway.
"Come on out," said Alex.
Phoebe and Tracie emerged, both barely clad in clothes.
"I'd ask 'what's going on?', but I already have some idea."
"I'm sorry, Alex."
"Yeah, I'm sorry, too," added Tracie.
"If you want to use this place, that's fine by me, but I'm not paying for it. If you want to stay here, you have to pay me rent."
Phoebe quickly nodded.
"How much a month?" asked Tracie.
"Our rent was $500, but you guys can just pay $450 plus utilities."
"Oh, no, Alex, we'll pay the full $500."
"Alright, it's a deal, sis."
Alex made a deal. he also made an extrra $100 per month. His rent, in actually, was only $400. He did not feel one bit quilty about it. After all, this was Phoebe and Tracie. They were as likely as anyone to skip out on him. They were also the ones brining strange men home to his apartment - possibly even hustling them in the process. Unlike Portia, he could only trust Phoebe as far as he could throw her - but probably not even that much.
He made a stop at home before heading off to Detroit. he hopped into the shower and got ready. In the meantime, Portia came home to get a bite to eat. By the time Alex emerged from his bedroom, Portia had made herself a sandwich and had turned on the television.
Again, strange noises from the next room startled Alex. He poked his head out to see who was in his living room.
"Hey Portia. I thought you were at school."
"I came home for lunch."
"Ah.'
Portia glanced to him. Then, she turned her attention to the t.v.
"Alright then."
"What are you going with that gym bag. you only use that for road trips."
"Yeah, i'm just..."
"Just what?"
"Just going out."
"You're not making another run for Ace, are you?"
"No," he said emphatically.
"You ARE!" she said pointedly, "You're not even healed from the last time and now you're up to the same old tricks again? Why?"
"Come on, P."
"Where are you going?'
"P..."
"I'm going with."
"No, Portia. This isn't safe for you."
"But it's safe for you?"
"I'll be fine."
"Alex..."
"I said 'I'll be fine.'"
She watched helplessly as Alex rode off.
She wondered what she could do, if anything. she called his cell, but there was no answer. She thought about calling her parents, but knew that was a dead end. she thought about going over to Ace's. In the end, she decided against that, too.
Instead, she called Darren.
"Hey, Portia."
"Hey. Do you know where my brother's going tonight?"
"Should I?"
"I don't know. I think he's making a run for Ace."
"If you want, we can check with Ace."
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"No, it's fine. Let me come pick you up."
Portia let go a sigh, "Okay, come on."
Darren was there in no time flat. Portia quickly greeted him as they sped off to Ace's place. They ran into George outside the apartment.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"Do you know where Alex went?"
George nodded.
"Where?"
Just then, Ace sauntered out onto the landing in front of the apartment.
"Aren't you Alex's other sister?"
"Yeah."
"And you want to know where Alex went, right?"
"Yeah."
"If there's one thing I've learned it's that you never mix business and family."
"But Ace, he's my brother, and I care about him."
"That's why I cannot tell you where he's going. This is the type of stuff you should stay far away from. You're not like your siblings. You're going somewhere different. Somewhere better."
"Maybe Alex is headed there, too."
Ace shook his head.
"His ambition is too fast for that."
Portia heaved a sigh. "But he's my brother..."
Ace sat down at the top of the stairs, patting the deck beside him, offering Portia a seat.
"You know what?"
Portia tilted her head to one side as she watched Ace talk.
"I'll make you a deal," he continued, "Once he gets back from this trip, I'll do everything I can to find him a good job. A clean job - just because I like you and I like your brother and sister, too."
"That sounds good to me," said Portia. she offereed a hand to Ace. he shook it gently, before twisting it to one side and patting it with his other hand. Then, he kissed the top of the hand, as if the little girl was as pure as December snow.
Darren took Portia to the Pet Store and dropped her off. she gave him a sweet, innocent kiss, smack dab on his cheek.
"I made you blush," she giggled coyingly. His cheeks darkened even more.
Alex, on the other hand, still had a chore to finish. The trip to Detroit was barely any different than the trip towards Altoona, at least until he got to Ohio. He was welcomed to Ohio for a short time before crossing into Michigan. He now realized he had out-of-state tags. He tensed up at the thought of that.
It was well apst sunset when he crossed into Michigan. The highway was littered mostly with trucks. He tailed one truck for quite some while, using it to keep a steady pace. When it peeled off the highway, he found another and tailed it into the Detroit city limits.
He unfolded the paper and began sifting through the directions. He cut from the highway onto back streets – and even in the middle of the ight, the difference was night and day. Pools of dull orange light sporadically lit the street.
Abandoned fields, overgrown with uncut grass and weeds, were filled with discarded trash: rat-infested furniture, piles of wet and rotten books, dumped trash bags, ripped open, vomiting broken toys and rotten vegetables. Inside the heap, maggots and bugs gathered in tribes.
Still, vagrants ambled around aimlessly – covered in thread-bare clothes, unshaved and un-bathed for days, maybe weeks, maybe more.
Alex thought it was rough in Homewood South. He had never seen rough. The houses were falling apart, too. Power lines leaning awkwardly, old cable lines frayed, cut, spliced together, and cut again. It looked like a bomb had exploded within every single block.
He drove up to the address listed. The directions stated: Park right in front of the building. You do not want to be out of eyesight of it for even one minute.
Alex leaned forward and picked his pistol out of the glove compartment. He tucked it under his belt and replaced the sweatshirt. It poked angrily into his groin.
He waited in the car, surveying the building. It was an abandoned church. At some time, a wrecking ball must’ve hit the rotunda tower on the right side. A pile of stones guarded the entrance.
Alex tucked the moneybag under he passenger seat and got out of the car. Where he had seen nobody, suddenly there were people. A man peeling something and throwing it in the trash can across the street; a guy skulking alongside of the building on the other side of the vacant lot; a woman fiddling with her car keys outside a closed doctor’s office.
Alex’s eyes shifted back and forth, checking the surroundings. He approached the door and twisted at the knob. It was locked. He wondered what had come over him as he grabbed a strange door in a foreign neighborhood. It was even more strange when he sauntered across the landing and looked through the window.
The moonlit room was cluttered just as it was outside – with trash and debris unfit for human consumption. A couple was crouched in the corner. She was riding the man. Both of them looked barely alive.
Alex tapped on the window.
The girl jumped a bit, startled by Alex’s tapping. She turned towards the window for a moment before returning to her grind. Shards of light undulated over her bare body, a crumple of pants covered one leg. The other leg, like the rest of her body, was naked.
Footsteps echoed behind the woman. Alex stepped towards the door. A head poked up over the edge of the window at the door’s top edge. Two eyes peered down at Alex.
“Who is it?’
“Ace’s boy.”
After a good fifteen seconds of silence, Alex cleared his throat.
“Hello?”
The door quickly opened.
“Get in here,” said a voice.
The door quickly closed and locked behind Alex. A short black man, dressed completely in dark blue, with a slightly curved spine waggled his finger at Alex, urging him through the house.
“Come with me.”
Alex cut through the cluttered rooms, weaving through piles of trash, sleeping crack heads, and a few groups of people shooting up – one girl even left the needle hanging out of her arm as she humped another crack fiend. Empty cans of beers surrounded them, as if the two used just enough energy to get the cans to their mouth and then back to the floor when they were finished.
The old man showed Alex to a stairwell to the basement. Alex went first. The old man followed. A large bald man stood at the bottom of the stairs.
“Turn around,” he said.
He frisked Alex, removing the pistol from Alex’s waistband.
“You don’t need this. Where’s the money?”
“Where’s the dealer?”
“Where’s the money?”
“In my car.”
“Eddie, take him out to his car.”
Alex and Eddie went to the car. Alex dug his monehy out from the seat.
“I’ll take that,” said the old man.
Alex followed him into the house, through the maze of people, and back to the basement.
“Give me that.”
The tall man took the bag and sorted through it. He walked upstairs, leavingt Alex in the basement with the old man.
“Come up here, Eddie. Bring the boy.”
They went upstairs to the living room. The tall man deposited a large brick-shaped package in Alex’s hands.
“Get the fuck out of here,” said the man.
Alex started to check his package.
“You don’t need to do that.”
The man clamped his hand over Alex’s, pressing firmly. Alex began shaking.
“Go on now.”
Alex headed to his car. A few people lingered around the street. A car came by, slowing down to look at Alex. He was out of place. The driver gave Alex a long, hard look. Alex glanced away as he headed straight for his car. He wished he had not lucked his car as he fumbled with the keys. He finally jammed the key into the lock, opened the door, and got in. He was quicker to get the key into the ignition and start the car. Without another wasted moment, he turned on his lights and drove off, quickly, but calmly - or, at least as calmly as he could.
His heartbeat was in his throat as he searched for a way back to the freeway. Ace had not given him directions out – only directions to get there. Alex was lost. He drove around, turning this way and that. When he saw the same car pass him at a four-way stop, he continued forward, turning once, then turning again on a parallel street.
Finally, a little blue highway shield stood proudly on a dirty old light post. For Alex, it was a long lost lighthouse on a stormy night. ‘Anywhere but here’, he thought to himself.
Surely, anywhere would be better than here.
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