2
“Yes,” I shouted through the closed door. I knew better than to open it without identifying the visitor. This was not the suburbs. It wasn’t even Park Slope, the gentrified neighborhood where I had grown up across from Prospect Park.
“It’s me. The guy from outside,” I heard a deep smooth voice respond.
“Excuse me?”
“I think you have something that belongs to me,” he answered in a tone that said he thought it was a joke.
“I don’t open doors for strangers.”
“Well if you would open the door and let me introduce myself then I wouldn’t be a stranger.” He laughed but I didn’t bother to respond. All I wanted was to crawl up into a ball, close my eyes, and pretend that my mother was still here.
“How did you find me?”
“I’m not sure you know this but you’re the only girl in these parts with a St. Agnes uniform. This neighborhood ain’t filled with private school girls so you stick out like a purple giraffe. Some people make it their business to know everything that goes on around here and I make it my business to know those people,” he answered.
“Oh,” I mumbled. I hated sounding so naïve, but all those years of being a latch-key kid and not being allowed to hang in the streets had robbed me of a different kind of education.
“Look, I really can’t leave until I get what belongs to me,” he said.
“How do I know you’re not going to try to attack me or kill me?” I shouted loud enough for him to get it.
“Wow! You watch a lot of television. Law & Order?” He cackled. “Just open up the peephole.”
“No!” I shouted at him.
“I can’t slip my whole body in through that small space. You really think I’m dangerous?”
“The police don’t usually pin innocent men to the ground.”
“Do you want to check the color of my skin again?’ he joked. “Come on, I promise not to bite.”
I opened the peephole to see the prettiest hazel eyes staring back at me. I stumbled back, caught off-guard by how handsome he was.
“See, I told you I’m harmless,” he said, winking at me. “Here.” He passed his bankcard to me. It read DAMON BRATHWAITE. “That has my name and all my money, ’cept people call me D-Waite.”
“What?”
“Like D, wait up?”
“Naw, it’s short for Brathwaite. Look, text that info to somebody you trust. That way if something happens to you they know who done it. I just really need to get my bag from you.”
I typed in the info and sent it to Maddie, my best friend. Not only did we attend the same school, we used to live a couple of blocks away from each other until I moved here. I trusted her with my life.
She texted me back immediately: What?
I answered: Just insurance.
She typed in a confused smiley face emoji. I took a deep breath and opened the door. He stood there, grinning, but then his face grew serious. He reached out to me but I jumped away as if his touch burned.
“You’ve been crying? What’s a beautiful girl like you doing crying?” He sounded genuinely concerned. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Wait here,” I snapped as I hurried into my bedroom and grabbed the brown paper bag he had tossed at me. I hadn’t bothered to open it and find out what it was, but suddenly like an avalanche coming out of nowhere I was pissed. I opened the bag to at least a hundred little packages of white powder. How dare this guy take a chance with my life? What if someone had seen what he had done? Couldn’t I have been an accomplice to his crime? I stormed back into the living room where he stood grinning. I hurled the package over my head at him with full force, but he raised his arm and caught it before it caused any damage.
“Wait, what was that?” He seemed shocked by my actions.
“Are you kidding me? You put my life in danger throwing those drugs at me. Do I look like some drug mule? Like I’m to wind up behind bars? I don’t even know you,” I fumed.
“Look, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I was desperate!”
“Just get out!” I yelled and felt the sting of tears in my eyes.
“I fucked up. Shit, I don’t even know your name.”
“Good, because I don’t want to know you. Now just leave.” I knew that I couldn’t stop the tears and I didn’t want to break down in front of him.
“I’m not leaving you like this.” He took a step closer tome.
“You got what you wanted, so go!”
“No. You’re hurting and I only made it worse. I’m not going to just leave you like this.”
“I’m fine,” I lied, fighting back tears.
“No, you’re not. You can say you don’t want to talk about it but please don’t lie to my face.”
I looked up, locking eyes with him, and before I could stop myself the floodgates opened. Tears that I thought I’d already cried let loose. Suddenly this complete stranger was holding me in his arms and comforting me. I knew that I should have separated myself and told him to leave but it just felt so good to be held. I wasn’t sure how long we were there but I started feeling uncomfortable. What if he was dangerous? Clearly he was a criminal. We’d already established that.
“Dammit!” I heard myself curse as I tried to separate myself from him, except he wasn’t budging. I couldn’t believe how strong his arms were or how good I felt in them. Oh no. What if he thinks this is some kind of invitation for sex? I pushed myself away from him, wiping my face with the back of my hands. He untied the button-down shirt from around his waist and used it to dry my tears.
“I’m fine,” I insisted in a voice much stronger than I intended to use.
“Really? Wow, you just not gonna let a brotha help you?” He took a step back, holding up his hands. “But you should talk about it. You can’t hold all that inside. You don’t ever have to see me again. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger. I’m not gonna try to sell your shit to the National Enquirer unless it’s really juicy,” he teased me.
“No, it’s not.” I felt myself blushing.
“So spill it. You saved my ass from some serious time behind the black iron curtains so I owe you something. What’s causing such a pretty little thing like you to be in so much pain? If it’s your boyfriend let me know and I will set him straight.”
“No. It’s not a guy. I don’t have a boyfriend,” I confessed. I could have sworn his eyes lit up when I said that but maybe it was just my wishful thinking. I hadn’t had a boyfriend yet. My mother decided that when I reached seventeen I could start to date in groups but my birthday coincided with her illness. And the last thing on my mind or hers was my love life. “My mother died two weeks ago and now I live here with my aunt,” I said, but before I could finish my thought he had wrapped me in his arms again.
“You okay?” D-Waite breathed into my ear. “’Cause I could hold you all day.” I couldn’t stop the huge smile covering my face. “Is that a smile?” He caught me.
“No!” I tried to hide my face.
“So will you tell me your name? Please.”
“It’s Gabby. Gabrielle, but everybody calls me Gabby.”
“Gabby, if I let you go do you promise not to hit me or scream or anything that might cause a brotha some pain?” He let me go and I backed away, embarrassed.
“Hey, there is no shame in showing your feelings. I like it. Most girls I meet spend their time tryin’a convince me that they are bulletproof.”
“Bulletproof?”
“Yeah, that nothing could ever hurt them.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m working on that.”
“Don’t. I like you like this.” His eyes pierced me, and even if I wanted to I couldn’t pretend he didn’t affect me. I started looking around for somewhere to put my focus. “How about I go and get you something to eat? There’s a bodega around the corner that makes an amazing sub. Lots of meat piled high and shit. ’Cause you look like you ain’t ate in a minute.”
“No, I’m all right.”
“Oh, did that sound like a question? My bad. I’m going to get you some food and I’ll sit here until you eat it. Uh, can I get my bankcard back? Unless you need some cash? I’ll give you the pin code.” I reached into the pocket of my uniform sweater and handed him his card. “I’m coming back and you got to let me in, Gabby, okay?”
“Yes, I will let you in.”
“Now lock the door behind me.” He strolled out. “Lock the door,” he shouted from the other side.
“Bossy.” I laughed but I did as he ordered.
By the time D-Waite got back I had changed out of my uniform and into jeans and a T.
“You didn’t have to dress for me,” he teased as we sat down. Not only did he bring two huge subs but Lay’s Barbecue chips and Mountain Dew.
I knew it should have felt weird having some strange guy—and a criminal at that—up in my place, but it didn’t. I was relieved just be able to hang out with someone without them treating me like I was fragile glass about to shatter. No, this was probably the first time in a long while that I felt normal.
“Damn, girl, you can eat.” His words brought me back.
“Guess I was hungry,” I admitted.
“Yeah, well I’m gonna make it by business to make sure you eat.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I didn’t stutter. I’m gonna take care of you.”
“What? You don’t even know me.”
“Sure, I do.” He pierced me with those eyes again and I knew that he wasn’t playing. “Yeah, meeting you today wasn’t an accident. It was fate.”
“Oh really? So is this the way you seduce all the girls?”
“Not at all.”
“I may be young but I’m not stupid, and I’m not that kind of girl.” I stared at him, giving him more attitude than I’d ever given anyone in my life.
“I know exactly what kind of girl you are,” he said, taking my hand.
I froze. It wasn’t like I hadn’t had crushes before or even had a boy touch my hand; it just had never felt like this. This had electricity.
“Walk me to the door. I could stay here all day with you but I can’t.” He grabbed his things and moved to leave. I held the door open but he pushed it closed again. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“No.” I suddenly got all shy and self-conscious.
“Look at you.” D-Waite caressed my cheek. “I don’t have your number.” After we exchanged information it was his turn to become unsure. “Is it okay if I call you?”
“Sure, I’d like that,” I said, and after I said the words I realized how much I wanted to see him again.
“And if you need anything—anything, a friend, a hug—call me.”
My phone rang almost as soon as he left. I really didn’t want to talk to anyone. I wanted to just lie down and think about D-Waite but I answered it anyway. “Hello!”
“Do you miss me yet?” D-Waite’s cocky tone made me blush.
“No, do you miss me?” I shot back.
“Why you think I’m calling you? Wanna have lunch tomorrow? After school?”
“Sure.” I knew he could see my grin through the phone.
“Good. A brotha needs something to look forward to. Now I’m sure you got homework to do.”
“Ugh! Yes,” I admitted.
“Get to it then.”
By the time I hung up my cheeks were hurting from cheesing so hard. If you had told me a day ago that I would ever smile again I would not have believed you and now I couldn’t stop myself.