After several minutes of wandering through the aisles at Inboxes, hopelessly searching for the folders I needed, I decided it was time for assistance. Spotting the handsome African American with the familiar employee’s red shirt, I walked up to him and asked, “Can you help me? I’m trying to find the flourescent-colored file folders.”
Pausing to look at me, he politely replied, “Yes, ma’am, they’re on the next aisle. I’ll show you.”
As I obediently followed the young man toward the back of the store, I realized there was something vaguely familiar in his ebony face.
“Are you looking for any particular kind?” he asked, coming to a halt next to a wall covered with rows of different-colored folders.
Still searching my memory, it suddenly came to me. “You’re Tyrone, Maya’s boyfriend, right? I’m Sandra Martínez. We met at my house.”
Tyrone’s eyes flickered momentarily, but his face remained rigid as he nodded in agreement. Aware that this was supposed to be Tyrone and Maya’s senior year at Roosevelt, I asked, “Are you working here after school?”
“Nah, I work here full-time,” he answered, pulling a handful of flourescent folders from the racks, which he handed to me.
“These are perfect,” I smiled, but before he had time to disappear down the aisle, I asked, “How’s Maya?”
Tyrone’s face softened into a half-smile. “She’s good.”
Unable to contain my curiosity a moment longer, I impulsively asked, “Tyrone, aren’t you and Maya graduating this year?”
At that, Tyrone’s body seemed to stiffen, the harshness returning to his face. “Dr. Martínez, do you need anything else ’cause I gotta finish stacking those supplies?”
It was perfectly clear that Tyrone didn’t want to talk about school, so I shook my head, thanking him as he hurried away toward another section of the store.
At the cash register, I furtively glanced around for Tyrone while I paid for my purchases, but he was nowhere in sight.
Determined to get an answer to my question, I went into my office and dialed the Gonzales residence as soon as I returned home.
Maya’s energetic voice greeted me, “Hi, Dr. Martínez. Sorry, Mom’s not home. She went to a MEChA meeting.”
“Actually, I was calling you.”
“Cool,” Maya replied cheerfully, adding, “Juanita said you and Frank are gonna baptize Celia’s baby when it’s born.”
“Yes. We’re absolutely thrilled.”
“That’s cool. Juanita said her parents are planning a big pachanga.”
I chuckled at Maya’s mention of the word pachanga. She sounded so much like her mother. “Yes, Frank’s already practicing his norteñas with my newest Tigres del Norte CD,” Maya giggled. “How are your college plans progressing?” I asked.
“Bien cool, I’m still planning on going to Stanford, but I’m sludged ’cause Ankiza changed her mind. She’s applying to UCLA. And Juanita’s going to Mom’s boring university.”
Smiling to myself at Maya’s assessment of the local university where her mother teaches, I listened patiently, waiting for the appropriate moment to solicit the information I needed.
“Rina’s plans are still not sure,” Maya added, “but Tommy applied at San Francisco State. He wants to be a boring high school teacher.”
“Now, Maya, not all teachers are boring. I’m sure Tommy will make a delightful teacher. But what about Tyrone? I saw him at Inboxes today. He said he’s working full-time. Isn’t he supposed to graduate this year?”
Maya groaned and began to relate the entire story about Tyrone, how his father had suddenly abandoned the family. “Tyrone’s been weird since then. He insists he has to work full-time to help support the family. His mom even had to get another full-time job. She works nights at the hospital.”
“I’m very sorry to hear about Tyrone’s troubles,” I remarked, imagining the tremendous burden Tyrone was carrying inside his heart.
“Yeah, I’ve tried talking to him, even Mr. Grinde the counselor tried, but he won’t listen to us. And Ty was all set to go to Laguna University. Do you think maybe you could talk to him?”
“Yes, of course I will, but I’m not sure if he’ll listen. It sounds like Tyrone’s already made up his mind. Why don’t you give me his home address? If I remember correctly, he lives near Juanita.”
“Yeah, he does,” Maya eagerly replied, saying Tyrone’s apartment number into the receiver. “Dr. Martínez, you’re the coolest. Wish my mom were more like you,” Maya said before we hung up, which made me smile.
While Frank and I were having dinner that evening, his face grew serious when I told him about my plans to speak with Tyrone. “Hon, are you sure you have the energy for this? I mean, we just lost the baby and then all that time you spent helping Celia. You’re not Wonder Woman, you know.”
Reassuring Frank that I was fine, I made a teasing comment about his own super powers. And that was all it took for him to get crazy on me. Raising both arms in a Kung Fu position, Frank let out a shrill Bruce Lee war cry. Feigning danger, I laughed as Frank released another high-pitched cry that made him sound more like Tarzan’s Chita than a Kung Fu warrior.
The next day, I decided to drive to Tyrone’s apartment as soon as I had finished with my last client. After several knocks, the door was opened by a tall teenage girl with coffee-colored skin who had to be Tyrone’s sister. “I’m Dr. Martínez,” I said, and I held out my hand.
She flashed me a wide smile, revealing a set of perfect ivory teeth. “I’m Zakiya, Celia’s friend. She told me all about you.”
“All nice things, I hope.”
Zakiya grinned, inviting me into the living room where I picked a comfortable spot on the couch. The young boy seated on the matching armchair smiled up at me from the comic book he was reading.
“That’s Jerome, the baby of the family,” Zakiya explained.
After I said hello to Jerome, I asked if their mother was home, but Zakiya shook her head. “She works the night shift at General Hospital.”
I was about to ask for Tyrone when the front door opened, and Tyrone entered the living room. The instant he saw me, his mood darkened. “What are you doing here?” he rudely asked.
“Ty, don’t be that way!” Zakiya chastised her older brother who completely ignored his sister’s advice.
“I was hoping we could talk for a few minutes.” I noticed that Jerome was watching us intently.
“Dr. Martínez, if Maya sent you to talk me into going back to Roosevelt, it won’t do you any good!” Tyrone exclaimed. Then he turned around, storming out of the room with Jerome following him.
Looking embarrassed, Zakiya said, “Tyrone’s been real creepy since Dad left.”
On my feet, I quickly explained that it wasn’t her fault and promised to return another time.
All the way home, I thought about Tyrone and his refusal to listen. There had to be a way to break through to him, I thought, pulling into my driveway. As I unlocked the front door and went to hang up my jacket, a sudden thought entered my mind. Ray Gutiérrez. Maybe he could help.
I met Ray several months ago at a workshop he conducted on the new Teen Resource Center in Laguna. It was sponsored by the Equal Opportunity Commission as part of the Male Voices Project. According to Ray, the primary objective of the Male Voices Project was to provide guidance and support for young males, especially for those at-risk.
That’s it, I smiled triumphantly as I went into my office to search for Ray’s number. After several futile calls, I located the Teen Resource Center, and I was delighted when Ray Gutiérrez answered the phone. “I’m not sure if you remember me,” I began cautiously, “but we met several months ago. My name is Sandra Martínez. I’m a psychologist.”
“Of course, I remember you,” Ray said. “I’ve heard of all the great things you’ve done to help our kids.”
Thanking Ray, I took a few minutes to praise him for his own accomplishments with at-risk youth. Then I brought up my reason for calling, going into detail about Tyrone’s family situation and his decision to drop out of high school. “I tried talking with him today,” I continued, “but Tyrone refuses to listen. So I was wondering if maybe you could help.”
Ray did not even hesitate for a moment before answering. “Sure, I’d be glad to give it a try, though sometimes it’s very tough to break through to the guys. But as you know, here at the Male Voices Project, we’re very involved in mentoring young males, especially Chicanos and African Americans. We help them stay in school and try to teach them how to become responsible young men. Why don’t you bring Tyrone by the center tomorrow so we can meet and I can show him around?”
“That would be splendid, Ray. I’m not sure how Tyrone will react, but I promise to get him there, even if I have to bribe him!”
Ray chuckled, adding, “With these guys, sometimes that’s what it takes.”