If I Were Your Boyfriend (6 page)

  "What did the cop say then?" asked Deon.

  "He said that it didn't matter as far as he was concerned because I was inside a vehicle that had been reported stolen. Then he asked me if I'd been drinking. I refused to answer his question.

  "'Did you hear me?' he asked once again. 'I said have you been drinking alcohol?'"

  "At that point I'd gotten irritated and wanted to smash anything that I could because nothing was going right. I wanted to lie to him about the drinking, but I didn't. I told him that I had a few drinks but not that many. I told him that I was a really good driver and I was resting in the car because I didn't think it would be a smart thing to do if I drove after having as many drinks as I had. He said that he appreciated my honesty but wanted to see if I could pass a few simple tests. I got out of the squad car and he took off the handcuffs. The officer told me to spread my arms out like an airplane and then touch the tip of my nose with my index finger one at a time. I tried to do it but I got dizzy and almost fell to the ground. Then he asked me to close my eyes and count backward from one hundred. I couldn't believe I'd failed that simple test. No matter how many times I tried to count backward my numbers got twisted and came through out of sequence. At that point the other officers agreed that I'd had one too many and needed to be taken into custody."

  "Why didn't you call your mom? Didn't you have a cellular phone on you?" asked Deon.

  "No, I didn't have my phone with me. When I got to the jailhouse they called my mom but I refused to speak with her. I was too angry."

  "Well, did she report the car stolen?" Deon wanted to know.

  "What do you think?" I answered sarcastically.

  "Man, that has to be hard." Deon was now sympathizing with me.

  "So now you know a tiny slice of my story. I'm in no rush to go back home because I can't stand it there."

  "Yeah, but you can't stay here forever." Deon once again pretended to shoot a jump shot.

  "I know that. What I really want to do is live with my dad. If I can go and live with him, I know that my life would be so much better than it is now," I said as I noticed how everyone in the common area began lining up.

  "What's going on over there?" I asked.

  "Feeding time," Deon answered. "They're about to

take everyone to the cafeteria for some food that is sure to give you diarrhea."

  "I'm not hungry so I'm just going to chill over at one of the tables," I said.

  Deon laughed. "Dude, you don't have a choice here. You have to go. Come, I'll show you what's safe to eat and what isn't."

  I followed Deon and lined up with the rest of the detainees and stood in silence as I thought about how I could convince my mother to allow me to live with my dad permanently.

n Sunday I woke up very early in the morning because I couldn't sleep. I got out of bed and walked down into the kitchen, opened up the refrigerator and poured myself a glass of cranberry cocktail juice. I was wide-awake and knew that I wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep, so I went into the family room and turned on the television. Flipping through the channels, I located MTV. A program was on that talked about the lives of Tupac and Biggie Smalls. I got engrossed in the program along with their music and fast-paced lifestyles. It was appealing to me to have fancy cars, loads of jewelry and to be the center of attention. I also liked Tupac and his thuggish looks. To me he looked untamed, masculine and gentle all at the same time. And his voice, I loved the sound of his rough and jagged voice. I was so involved in the program that I didn't notice that Grandmother Katie had gotten up and had just entered the room. I quickly clicked off the television.

  "Good morning," I greeted her.

  "Good morning. What were you watching?" she asked.

  "Nothing," I answered. I didn't think she'd approve of me watching the life story of Tupac and Biggie.

  "Yes, you were. You were watching something. What was it?"

  "It was nothing," I said once again.

  "Let me see the remote," she said. I reluctantly gave it to her. She clicked the power button and the program was on the part were Biggie Smalls had been murdered.

  "Is this what you were viewing?" She looked at me disapprovingly.