25. Isaac
25
Isaac
With my arms weighed down by grocery bags, I climbed the stairs and knocked on Mr. Jenkins’ door with my elbow.
He let me in like he always did—silently, and without any real welcome.
I went straight to the kitchen and put the groceries away before taking my usual seat on the couch.
“I ain’t smelled no smoke lately,” he said. “‘Preciate that. But I think you need a reminder about how thin these walls are.”
“I haven’t been playing loud music. I stopped that last year when you got on me.”
He shot me a look. “ Somebody was down there singin’.”
I was embarrassed when the realization hit me. “Shit. My bad.”
He shrugged. “I suppose it’s nice to know you ain’t lonely. I used to worry about you.”
“I have plenty of friends. I just never brought ‘em to my place.”
“So this one’s special.”
“She is.”
He picked up the remote and flicked through several stations. “Treat her right.”
“I’m tryin’, Unc.”
“Ain’t no try.”
We sat in silence for a while and watched a schoolteacher fail miserably at Wheel of Fortune .
“Alright,” I said. “Here’s the thing. I was raised to take care of my woman. To make her life easy. To provide. Protect. All that. It was easy to hold to it when I envisioned it happening down the road.” I shook my head. “The road ran out, man. She’s here, and I ain’t ready. That shit is frustrating.”
“I’ma tell you like this, youngin’. It’s only the good women who stick by niggas when we ain’t shit. They the ones that see the good in you. That’s the tragedy of the whole thing, though. The good women are the ones that deserve the best.”
“So I ain’t shit?”
“You tell me. You the one that keeps getting locked up. I don’t say shit cuz I figure you must like it in there.”
“I got some shit I’m trying to do. Once I’m done, I’m done.”
“Famous last words.”
“Come on. Think positive, Unc.”
“I am. I’m positive niggas like you either end up dead or in jail for the rest of your life. Pick your poison, son.” He forced out a chest-rattling cough. “But whatever you do, don’t serve none to your woman.”
The old man wasn’t wrong. I’d thought about that myself plenty of times. But this was a dire situation. The closer I got to Zay, the more the pull grew inside me to do something. Be something. Man up and control my life. But how?
Before I got the job at Jackson, I applied at probably fifty different places. That shit was the most demoralizing process I’d ever been through, and I’ve had my ass probed for weapons. I couldn’t even get a job at fucking Burger King.
And I know it’s my fault. I know it’s a direct result of stupid shit I did. But that didn’t make it any easier.
Right now, I was nothing, and I had the nerve to stand in front of a woman who had a degree and a nine-to-five and a commitment to helping people, asking her to give me a shot.
The fuck was I thinking?
I called her up, because it was do or die now.
“You got a minute to talk?” I asked her.
“Of course. What’s up? You sound serious.”
“I am. Can I talk to you as a friend and as a PO?”
“Yes. I’m here.”
I inhaled and blew it out slowly. “I’m kinda facing a crossroads here. There’s some temptation for me to do something that’s…not legal. Doing this thing would set me up nicely for the near future, but it’s also risky.”
With no hesitation, she said, “Don’t do it.”
“Hold on. Before you answer, you need to understand that I lost my job.”
“You did?”
“Basically. And I would only have to do this thing a few times and then I’d be good for a while.”
“It’s not worth it.”
“When I say risky, I don’t mean my life. It’s not really dangerous. That’s what’s so attractive about it.”
She sighed. “When’s your next meeting?”
“I haven’t had a first one. I ain’t met dude yet.”
“Right. Okay. What happened with your job?”
“It’s complicated.”
“He’s your brother.”
“That’s why it’s complicated.”
“Come in tomorrow, and I’ll make sure you get a meeting with Thompson.”
“Honestly, Zay, I didn’t wanna talk to him. I wanted to talk to you.”
“So talk to me. Why can’t you find another job? I sent you the list of employment resources. I know it’s not easy, but it’s honest.”
“Everything I’ve done in the past that I got locked up for, it was for stupid shit. Being reckless. This, though, it’s not about that. This is…” I trailed off, searching for the words.
“Have you ever filled out a job application and got to the box that says check if you’ve been convicted of a felony? And had to check that shit?”
“Of course not.”
“It feels like getting punched in the face. And I know it’s my fault. I know that. But that doesn’t change the facts.”
“So get back out there. Maybe things have changed. You don’t know until you try.”
“I’ve tried before. It’s hard enough as a black man, but with a record? I’ve never gotten a callback. Ever.”
“Maybe this time will be different.”
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, blowing it out slowly as I realized I wasn’t gonna get what I needed here.
“Yeah, you were the wrong person to talk to about this.”
“Don’t be like that.”
“Nah, just…I thought with you being on the other side of this and knowing what it’s like, that maybe you could understand. But here you go with the platitudes again.”
“That’s who I am, Isaac.”
“And I ain’t mad at you. I just needed something else.”
“So that’s it?” she said. “You won’t even come in tomorrow?”
“Nah. I think this is something I’ma have to figure out on my own.”
“Okay, speaking not as a PO, but as your friend whose dog you took care of and whose back you’re breaking, don’t do anything stupid. Let me help you.”
“That’s the last thing I would ever let you do.”
“Why?”
“That ain’t your job.”
“It was, until we…”
She didn’t finish that, and neither did I. It wasn’t necessary. It also didn’t matter. I wouldn’t trade what we had now—whatever this was—for what we had before.
“That doesn’t matter,” I finally said.
“It matters to me.”
“I gotta go.”
“Wait!” she cried out in desperation. “So then…what can I do?”
“I guess…nothing.”