Fixin’ Tyrone (5 page)

“You’re a beautiful woman, Mia,” Ernestine said. “You’re beautiful
and
you’re smart
and
you’re successful. You don’t have to share your man with
nobody
, no matter how big his weewee is!”

Everyone laughed again, but Mia knew the words were heartfelt.

“And you too old to be bustin’ out windows, child,” the elder went on. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

And Mia did feel a little embarrassed for the first time. She took solace in the matriarch’s words and left the beauty shop, as always, a fresh, vibrant, and confident woman.

THUG LOVE

When she got home, Mia was not upset to find her sister’s car missing from the driveway. Crystal usually kicked it with the kids on Saturday afternoons. They would be back in a couple of hours, and Mia was happy to have a little time to herself.

Crystal was only twenty-one. She was rambunctious, indecisive, and at times immature—basically all things that came with that confounding age. She was Mia’s little sister by way of the same mother, but they had different fathers. Any curiosity about why an intelligent, successful woman like Mia burdened herself with two children from two different unmarried gentlemen could be traced back to their mother, Sophia Clemmons.

Sophia was a lover of life, though life didn’t seem to love her back by the end of it. Mia’s mom never looked before she leapt, practiced what she preached or learned from her mistakes. A few of her kids, Mia in particular, inherited a lot of these characteristics. Sophia had four children in all, and each child had a different daddy. Even still, when she succumbed to lung cancer six years ago, Sophia met her maker with no regrets.

Que sera, sera
, she was fond of saying.
Whatever will be, will be
.

That motto would have been fine and dandy if Sophia had no dependents, but Crystal was only fifteen at the time of their mother’s death. Mia was fresh out of college and she had both of her own children by then, but she took her little sister in with open arms. And to the surprise of everyone, especially Mia, Crystal began to show her worth right away.

Back then Mia was a new face at Prospect Investment Firm—not only new, but also a minority
and
a female. She had to make sure her butt was present at every power lunch and late-afternoon meeting, and with Crystal at home to watch over her children, everything worked out perfectly.

Mia was now the manager of the securities and loans department. She was on pace to make vice president one day, and she knew much of her success wouldn’t have been possible without her little sister playing nanny at home.

But Mia’s life was a bit more settled now, and Crystal wasn’t a child anymore. She was twenty-one, old enough to go to school and get started on her own career in Mia’s opinion, but Crystal had no such ambitions. She took an occasional course at the local community college, and so far wanted nothing more than to live under her sister’s roof.

Crystal picked Mia’s kids up from school and was a faithful babysitter, and in return she enjoyed a fairytale life of free room and board and sometimes even an allowance. Mia was close to it, but so far she hasn’t felt the need to push her eaglet from the nest.

* * *

Inside, Mia dropped her purse on the couch and found a few dishes in the kitchen to wash. She checked her answering machine, and, according to the display, she had four new messages. She played them as she wiped a few stubborn stains from her countertops. The first three were insignificant, but the last one piqued her interest. It was Eric again. Mia thought he of all people should understand why she wasn’t calling him back, but he seemed to be getting more persistent:

Mia, this is Eric. I—I really wish you would return my calls. I don’t know what happened last night. Well, I know you talked to Shareefa, but I don’t know what she told you. I know it was kooky, whatever it was. If you’ll call me, I can explain everything. I am not married to that woman. I can tell you that right now. Whatever else she told you is a lie. This isn’t the first time she’s done this. Just call me back, I can explain. I promise. I thought we had a good connection, Mia. Don’t let it go because of this. All right? Okay, um, bye.

That was interesting. Mia wanted to return the call just to hear what he had to say, but she reminded herself who she was dealing with here. This was
Double-0 Player
. He
might
have an elaborate explanation for the phone, the wife, and the kids, but that only meant he was an accomplished,
seasoned
liar. Mia was curious, but didn’t think she’d ever believe another word Eric said.

Calling him back was put on the back burner anyway. Mia heard her front door open, followed by the excited clamoring of two adorable babies, ages seven and nine.

Many people will say that their child is the
most beautiful ever
. They’ll bombard even the most casual acquaintance with photos, and even hire an agent to get their pride and joy in commercials.

Mia has never done any of those things, but she knew—with no uncertainty—that her two kids were the most precious, the most beautiful, and the most intelligent children in the whole world.

Tyrone Christopher Story was the older sibling. Everyone called him TC. He was in the third grade and was a fan of math and puzzles. TC had fair skin like his father. He also had thick hair that didn’t kink much when he grew it out, but Mia kept it trimmed short. She was well aware of how cute light-skinned boys look with a bushy mane, but Mia thought that was usually more of the parent’s vanity than anything else.

Mica Lynn Clemmons (
Mica
pronounced to rhyme with her mother’s name) was simply gorgeous; her mom’s spitting image. Unlike TC, Mica’s skin was dark. She also inherited her mother’s full lips and small nose. Mica had her father’s large eyes, and that was sad because her father was dead—had been since before her birth.

He was a skinny punk named Calvin Mitchell. Eight years ago, Mia loved him more than she loved herself, but Calvin only cared about his homeboys and his money. He took six bullets over a dope sack that turned out to be walnut pieces cut to look like crack, and Mia never forgave herself for falling for the thug. She never forgave Calvin for choosing the streets over his daughter.

In an interesting twist, the kids had what some called “opposite personalities.” Nine-year-old TC was more likely to jump into his mother’s bed during a thunderstorm, and seven-year-old Mica liked to catch frogs in the backyard and bring them into the house. They both enjoyed flying kites, playing video games and exploring shadowy creeks, and Mia loved them more than anything she’d ever seen on this planet.

TC rushed in with his latest
Goosebumps
paperback. Mia never forced the series on him and was glad he had such an interest in reading.

“Hey, Mama!” He wrapped both arms around her for a big bear hug.

“Hey, lil’ man. What you got there?”

“It’s a
Goosebumps
! Aunt Crystal took us to the library.”

“You haven’t read that one before?” Mia asked.

“I don’t think so.” TC studied the cover art, then looked back to his mother. “Did I read this one before?”

“I don’t know,” Mia said. “It looks a little familiar.”

“I don’t think so. Maybe a long time ago. I’ll read it again anyway. I like
Goosebumps
.”

Mia smiled. “Where’s your sister?”

“She’s outside with Aunt Crystal. They’re getting something out of the car.”

“And you didn’t help them?”

“I was going to . . .” TC looked away shyly. “You want me to?”

“You’re the man of the house,” Mia reminded. “Of course I want you to help. What did she get?”

“Just some stuff,” TC said. “We went to a garage sale.”

Mia sighed. “I told her to stop bringing that junk to my house.”

“It’s not junk,” TC defended. “She got me some Hot Wheels. And this other thing for herself. It’s kind of big. I don’t know what it does. Something about feet.”

“Where are the toys she bought you? Don’t tell me you’ve got a lady bringing them in for you?” Mia fixed a look on the boy.

“Uh,” he gave her a sly smile. “Outside. I’ll go get them.” He rushed out and Mia followed to see what Crystal was trying to bring in this time. The girl had a thing for junk.

And it was junk.

“What are you going to do with that?” Mia asked from the front door.

Crystal held the plastic contraption with both hands and bumped the car door closed with her ample hip. “Girl, yo hair looks good,” she said.

“Don’t try to butter me up,” Mia said.

Mica had a dolly in one hand and a Slurpee in the other, but she still threw both arms around her mother. “Hi, Mommy. Your hair’s pretty.”

“You heard your aunt say that.”

Mica smiled and Mia was lost in her eyes for a moment.

“No. I didn’t hear her. I thought it up by myself.”

“What is that thing?” Mia asked as Crystal scooted by.

“It’s a foot massager,” she said without stopping. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it in my room. You’ll never see it.”

“Where you gonna put it? It won’t fit under the bed. You’ve got too much junk in there already, Crystal. Stop giving those rednecks your money.”

Crystal kept walking, and Mia followed her inside, not for the first time a little envious of her little’s sister’s physique. Crystal wore stretchy Capris today with a blouse that stopped an inch above her belly button. She and Mia were different on many levels, but their physical contrasts were the most obvious.

Mia considered herself
fine
, but Crystal was on another level. Black men love women with full hips and thighs and a nice ass. On Mia, these proportions were
thick
. On Crystal, they were
phat
. Crystal could win a bubble butt contest wearing slacks. She was also taller, light-skinned, and her 38C boobs put Mia’s 36As to shame.

When they were younger, Crystal had big teeth, and Mia could at least tease her about her
gator mouth
, but Crystal grew into her features. Now Mia could only make fun of her sister’s
big butt
, but they both knew Mia would kill to have one just like it.

“Mama, my daddy’s getting out of jail.”

The words made Mia forget about the foot massager. She looked down at her son, who beamed a toothy grin. She didn’t understand why he was so damned happy about someone who could have been in his life for the last six years but
chose
otherwise.

And, yes, a convict will tell you anything you listen to, but Mia knew better. They
chose
to do whatever they did, ergo, they
chose
to go to prison.

“Who told you that? Aunt Crystal?”

“Nope, I sure didn’t,” Crystal walked back into the room on the defensive. “He found out from that letter Tyrone sent. The one
you
gave him. Don’t even try to blame me.”

Mia remembered the letter. She got it in the mail just three days ago. Tyrone sent her one also, but it was sitting, still unopened, on her bedroom dresser. She knew Tyrone was getting out of prison, had dreaded it for six months, but it wasn’t fair for her to transfer those emotions to TC. She sat on the couch and her little ones plopped down on either side of her, hip to hip.

“Yeah, he’s getting out Monday,” Mia said.

“
This
Monday,” TC stressed.

“Yes,
this
Monday,” Mia said. She rubbed the top of his head. “You excited about seeing your daddy?”

Crystal sat on a love seat and listened quietly.

“Yes,” TC said. “I’m going to ask him to take me to Six Flags!”

“Six Flags
?
Monday’s a school day,” Mia reminded. “And when people get out of jail, they usually don’t have a lot of money right away. You might have to wait a while before he can take you to Six Flags.” Mia’s heart skipped a beat at just the thought of an ex-convict like Tyrone alone with her baby, but she didn’t show it.

“Well,” TC considered things. “Where
can
he take me?”

“How about we go to the park?”

“You’re gonna come, too?”

“Well, I might. Do you remember your daddy? You were only three when he went away.”

“Um, I remember him a little.”

Mia smirked. “What does he look like?”

“He, um,” TC shrugged. “He look like me!”

Mia smiled. “Who told you that?”

He looked around. “
Everybody
?”

“Everybody like
who
?”

He put his head down. “Aunt Crystal?”