Always Outnumbered, Always Outgunned (Socrates Fortlow 1) (13 page)

“You seen’im?”

“Why’ont you come on in, Corina?” he asked in mild frustration. “Don’t you want some coffee? You know I don’t get that many young lady guests. It be nice for me just t’see you sittin’ in my chair.”

Corina sighed and then said, “I cain’t stay long. The kids is wit’ my sister.”

Socrates jumped up and turned sideways to hide the glee he felt when Corina came in. He moved the chairs to his folding card table and then struck a match to light the butane stove that sat on the sink.

“Where’s Howard?” Socrates asked as he ran tap water into a saucepan.

“You ain’t seen’im? Really?” Corina asked. There were no tears but her voice was small, making her sound like a sad girl.

“No.” Socrates put the pan on the stove. He sat down in a plastic chair that had once been his only seat. “What happened?”

Socrates had always liked Corina. She had the kind of face that showed her feelings no matter how hard she tried to look mad. She carried her shoulders high and her body was long and straight except for a small belly that looked comfortable and down-home.

Corina never trusted Socrates but he didn’t hold that against her; he knew any woman who didn’t trust him probably had good sense.

“We had a fight last night an’ he left.” Corina sat back in the chair and turned her head to avoid crying. “He ain’t never stayed out all night.”

“Hm!” Socrates got up to check his water even though he knew it wasn’t boiling yet. “What you fight about?”

“It wasn’t nuthin’. I just said that maybe he could get a job down wit’ McDonald’s or sumpin’ like that while he was waitin’ t’see if he could do computer operations. You know he ain’t had a job for nine months an’ they cut back my hours at Penney’s. All I said was that he could do it in the meantime, while we was waitin’.”

“An’ he didn’t like that? What’s wrong? Don’t he wanna work?” Socrates took a yard of cheesecloth and folded it over on itself twice, then he took a can of MJB coffee and scooped three tablespoons of the grounds into the center of the cloth square.

“No,” Corina protested. “He ain’t lazy. He just proud. He say he too smart to be burnin’ burgers fo’kids.”

“He ain’t too proud t’let his wife go out an’ make all the money, now is he?” Socrates brought together the corners of the cheesecloth to form a little sack that he fastened by tying a string midway at the neck.

“Howard ain’t afraid to work,” Corina said. “He had a good job wit’ the city parks, but you know they had all those layoffs.”

Socrates stood there, coffee ball in one hand and tin funnel in the other. “But that was almost a year ago. You know Winnie an’ li’l Howard ain’t gonna stop growin’ just ’cause their daddy cain’t buy’em clothes.”

“That’s right,” Corina declared. “I tried t’tell’im that it don’t matter what somebody might think. All that matter is what his kids feel.”

Socrates put the coffee cloth in the top of the funnel and wedged the tin spout in the mouth of an hourglass-shaped Pyrex jug.

“He ain’t called or nuthin’?” Socrates sat back down.

“No.”

“Then he’s a fool,” Socrates said. “Man got a woman like you to get out on these dangerous streets an’ go to work ev’ry day. Woman have his kids an’ feed’em too. Uh. You know I be workin’ at McDonald’s in the afternoon and Burger King at night.”

Socrates showed Corina his best grin. A trace of a smile skimmed her pouting lips.

“I ain’t askin’ fo’too much,” she complained. “You know I go to work at JCPenney’s, do all the housework, and then I got to be wit’ them kids ev’ry second they ain’t in the house. I let’em out just once by theyselves an’ the bullets’ll start flyin’.”

“I know it,” Socrates said. It was the truth but he was saying something else to the wife of his friend. “You got to have eyes in the back’a your head to live in this world, girl. Eyes in the back’a your head, ears cocked, an’ two fingers to the wind.”

Corina had a large space between her two front teeth. That smile was like a diamond to the miner Socrates.

“You want me to go out an’ help you look for Howard?” the ex-con asked. He was staring hard at Corina.

“I’ont know, Mr. Fortlow. Maybe Howard get mad if he knew I was tellin’ his business around.”

“So what if he get mad? Shoot! He lucky he don’t come home an’ find some other man up in his bed.”

“No.” Corina shook her head vigorously and stared right into the older man’s eyes. “It ain’t nuthin’ like that goin’ on.”

“I know, Corrie. You a good woman. Lovin’ yo’ kids an’ yo’ man, you ain’t got no time to be actin’ a fool. But I was just sayin’ that Howard cain’t leave no beautiful woman all alone an’ expect the dogs t’stay down. Woman like you need somebody wit’ all the hard work an’ love you put out. That’s why I just cain’t understand it.”

“Understand what?” Corina asked. The look on her face opened a vein in Socrates’ heart that he thought had died along with Muriel—the woman he’d murdered decades before.

For a moment Socrates couldn’t speak. The blood flowing made him afraid that his heart was going bad. The chair underneath him seemed to shift.

“Uh, well,” he mumbled. “I cain’t see leavin’ a woman you love for even one night. You wouldn’t never want that woman to think that you could leave her. ’Cause she’s your life. Your life.”

Corina Shakur wore simple jeans and a buff chamois shirt. Her hair was tied back with a polka-dotted blue-and-white handkerchief. Her sockless feet were in red sneakers. She clasped her hands and leaned forward. Not one bit of fear showed in her gentle face.

“You lose somebody, Mr. Fortlow?” she asked.

The question hung there between them for five seconds, ten.

“Water’s boilin’,” he answered softly.

Socrates poured the steaming water from the saucepan into the funnel. Slowly dollops of the dark brown liquid dripped into the Pyrex jug. Socrates watched the jug closely as if that was part of the job of making coffee.

“Did you?” she asked.

Socrates swallowed hard. He poured a little more water and the flow increased. He took two thick mugs from the shelf and placed one down on the table near Corina.

“Sorry we cain’t go in the other room,” he said. “But I sleep in there too. It’s a mess.”

“I don’t mind sitting here,” she said.

Her eyes followed him as he brought the coffee over and poured.

“You take anything?” he asked.

“Sugar,” she said.

He had cubes in a bowl on the shelf. He held it as Corina fished out three lumps. He spent longer than necessary finding her a spoon.

She stirred while looking at him.

“You lose somebody, Socrates?” she asked again.

Socrates sat down and cleared his throat. He sipped his black coffee and coughed once more. “I had a girl love me like the mornin’—once.”

“Back east? Howard said that you come from back east.”

“Indiana,” Socrates said.

“She leave you?”

Socrates turned his head to regard Corina Shakur. She was twenty-three years old; thirty-five years younger than him. But she knew things that he could only guess at. She had birthed children. She probably believed in God. She woke up in the morning thinking about how things could get better, or stay good.

“What was her name?” Corina asked.

“You want Howard back, Corrie?”

“I guess.” She looked down at her long fingers. “I get kinda fed up is all. You know I try an’ make things good for him, but he’s so mad all the time. I try’n tell’im that he got to get over that. An’ he know it but it’s like it’s too much for him.” Corina shook her head and sipped the sweet coffee. When she ran the tips of her fingers around the rim of the mug Socrates felt his heart clatter again. “He wanna go dancin’ an’ to clubs like when we was goin’ out, but we got kids now. What can I do about that? My sister cain’t be takin’ them all the time. I mean, I cain’t help it if he too proud. I cain’t work two jobs ’cause he won’t work one. But if I say it then he get mad. I just don’t know if it’s worth it.”

Corina gazed at the floor but her eyes held the knowledge that Socrates was watching her. He watched until Corina was almost finished with her coffee.

“Could I say sumpin’ to you, girl?” If Socrates had had a hat he would have held it over his heart.

“What?”

“I mean, I don’t want you to get mad or to think that I’m tryin’ to do sumpin’ behind Howard’s back. I couldn’t do that.”

“Okay, Mr. Fortlow. What you have to say?”

“You want some cake? I got some day-old devil’s food from Bounty up in the closet.”

“No. I don’t want no cake. I wanna hear what you got to say an’ then I have to go.”

Socrates put his strong hands on his knees and leaned forward. “You’re a beautiful woman, Corina. Smart and sure and the kinda woman a man could count on. What they used to call a good woman back home. An’ when I look at you I find a part’a me hopin’ that that fool don’t come back. ’Cause you know I wanna be in your door wit’ flowers an’ baby toys. You know I just sit here an’ look at you an’ I can see all the things in my life that I missed.”

Corina glanced over her shoulder at the door.

“Don’t worry, honey,” Socrates said. “I don’t know what you heard about me but I’m not tryin’ t’do nuthin’. And this ain’t no secret sidetrack kinda thing neither. I would tell Howard what I’m tellin’ you. I’d tell’im this very minute. ’Cause I don’t have nuthin’ t’lose an’ I know it.

“Black men always be talkin’ ’bout how hard life is on’em, but most of ’em don’t e’en know the half of it. They too proud, huh. Ain’t no pride like chirren; ain’t no pride like a woman lovin’ her man.” Socrates felt the sheen of sweat across his face; he heard the sexual fever in his own voice.

Tears sprouted in Corina s eyes and she didn’t try to hide them.

“Right after you leave I’m gonna go find Howard and I’ma tell him what I just said to you. An’ if he don’t listen I’ma come up to your door wit’ a job and candy for the kids.” Socrates stood up and Corina followed suit, like a small sail caught in a larger boat’s wake.

He led her to the door and whispered, “Don’t worry. The kinda luck I got he prob’ly be home ’fore you are.”

Corina listed forward and then stopped, then she swayed forward again and kept going until her full lips were at the corner of Socrates’ mouth. The kiss was a testament that she had heard his words; she wasn’t afraid of how he felt.

{2.}

He watched her go through the tiny garden and into the alley that ran past his gate. She half turned to catch a glimpse of him as she went.

A sideways look and half a kiss, Socrates thought. Maybe if I wait another twenty years I might get a hug too
.

He went back into his kitchen feeling exhausted, the way he did on weekdays after taking the bus home from work. He sat down, took a deep breath, and then said, “You could come on out, Howard.”

Howard Shakur came out of Socrates’ sleeping room. The look on his fat face would have scared most men, but Socrates didn’t care.

“You gonna fight me, boy?” the ex-con asked simply. “’Cause if you are I hope you got some insurance for them babies.”

“What the hell you mean by lettin’ her in here an’ talkin’ to her like you did?”

“You want some whiskey, Howard?” Socrates gestured a tired hand toward the cabinet under his sink. “There’s some whiskey down under there.”

Howard squatted down and came out with a fifth of PM whiskey. He stood up making a fat man’s grunt and took two glasses from the shelf.

“What the hell you mean by tellin’ Corina all that shit?” Howard said as he settled into the chair his wife had been sitting in.

“I ain’t said nuthin’ t’her that I didn’t say to you a hour ago. I told you you was a fool.” Socrates took a short swig of the cheap whiskey and grimaced.

“But it was the way you was talkin’, man. You tryin’ t’get over on my woman?”

“You damn right I was. What you think, Howard? A woman look like she do an’ she gonna go out an’ bust a gut workin’ fulltime. That stuff is just like gold.”

“That’s my wife you talkin’ ’bout, man,” Howard Shakur said. He downed his glass and poured another.

“No it ain’t.” Socrates shook his head and put his glass down. “Uh-uh.”

“What you mean she ain’t mines? Whose wife is she if she ain’t mines?”

With speed that Socrates rarely showed he snapped forward and caught Howard by the wrist.

“Ow!” Howard shouted. He tried to pull away but the older man’s grip was too strong for him.

“Let me tell you sumpin’, boy. Long as you out here, away from that girl, she belong to whoever she want. Ain’t no man gonna say, ‘Naw, I better stay ’way ’cause Howard might decide to come back one day.’ Fuck that! Woman like Corrie make a man boil.” Socrates pushed Howard back so hard that he flew over backwards in his chair.

Howard jumped to his feet, ready to fight. Socrates rose to meet him. His blood was hot. He wanted to do something strong. If it wasn’t with that girl at least he could break Howard’s jaw.

But Howard hadn’t had quite enough whiskey to be a fool. He snorted but that was the most of it.