Hold you down a novel, p.15
Hold You Down: a Novel, page 15
“DC is wild, too,” Mercy pointed out. “Crack is everywhere.”
“That’s true, but where I live it’s not like that. We could do some research. Find good schools for the boys. Get you situated and start over.”
Mercy shook her head. “I have so much going on right now, Xavier. I have to pack up Lenox’s apartment and settle her affairs. I have to get through the holidays without my sister, try to get Deon through this. I have to stay here. At least until I can get custody of my nephew and get him and Judah through the school year. We’re all dealing with enough change right now.”
“Why don’t you come spend New Year’s with me? You and the boys. Come down for a day or two. You need a break, Mercy.”
She shrugged. “Let me think about it.” She closed her eyes, sensing a headache coming on.
They were interrupted by the reverend and his wife. They came with cards and envelopes some of the attendees had left for Mercy. She thanked them and went to collect the rest of her things. Xavier watched her. He knew that losing Lenox had rocked Mercy to her core. Some of the spark inside her had gone out when her sister died. He prayed that it wasn’t enough to break her.
Xavier stayed in town for several days while Mercy wrapped up Lenox’s affairs. He tried to comfort her as she mourned the loss of her sister and handled the complexity of assuming custody of her nephew. He asked her several times to come back to DC with him, suggesting it gently every chance he got. But Mercy wouldn’t budge. And a week later, Xavier reluctantly left New York City without her.
Part Two
POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS
Bronx, 1991
The clock on the wall read 11:32.
Mercy and Judah waited patiently on metal chairs in Spofford Juvenile Detention Center in the Bronx. She grimaced as she looked around at the peeling paint on the walls and the filthy floors. It felt cold and clammy, dangerous. The thought of her nephew being housed in a place like this made her stomach turn. At the young age of fourteen, Deon had managed to amass a rap sheet that would impress some hardened criminals. He was being released today after serving twelve months of an eighteen-month sentence for firing five shots from a .25 caliber automatic into an open window in the projects where they lived. Mercy had taken custody of him after his mother’s death, and it had not been an easy adjustment for any of them. Both Mercy and Judah sat reflecting silently on the journey their family had taken in the years since Lenox’s murder.
“He’s gonna be different this time,” Judah said. “I can feel it. All the letters he wrote me in the beginning seemed defiant. Nothing was his fault. But lately when I talk to him, he sounds like he’s finally ready to do the right thing.”
Mercy prayed that was true. “He’s still grieving,” she said softly. “I lost my sister, my best friend. You lost your aunt. But Deon lost his mother. As sad as I am about her death, I comfort myself with a lifetime of memories we had together. But Deon won’t get that. And he’s angry. I don’t approve of his behavior. But I understand.”
Mercy stared down at the dirty floor. She felt the same rage Deon felt. Only he had made a habit of taking that anger out on everyone around him. For nine years of his life, it had been him and his mom against the world. He adored her and couldn’t accept that someone had put a gun to her chest and left her to die cold and alone on the floor of some run-down shack.
He had moved into his aunt’s apartment, a place he had spent a great deal of his childhood in. So, it felt familiar. As close to home as he could feel without his mother. Deon withdrew into himself, the rage and frustration he felt turned inward at first. He wouldn’t eat, had violent outbursts in school, and began drawing graphic and murderous sketches on his tests and quizzes rather than answering the questions. Judah tried to talk to him, hoping that their close bond would help him open up.
“You know you can talk to me, right?”
Deon would nod, staring off into space. He spent a lot of time alone, often sitting on the bench sulking while Judah and the other kids played in the park.
Then he seemed to shift his focus outward and began bullying other kids in school. He beat up classmates for their lunch money, even though Mercy was giving him everything she could financially. He disrespected his teachers, disrupted classes and school assemblies, crying out for attention of the most negative kind.
Mercy knew that much of Deon’s behavior stemmed from his frustration over the fact that no one had been held accountable for his mother’s murder. The police chased the few leads they had in the case. There was a .45 caliber gun used in the shooting. It was at close range, and Lenox had been raped. They recovered crack vials at the scene and “drug paraphernalia” as the local newspaper reported it in the last paragraph of the Crime Roundup section. But the police hadn’t found the person who did it even though Mercy knew that G was involved.
The first clue had been his absence in the wake of Lenox’s death. He hadn’t stopped by to offer his condolences or sent any flowers. For someone who had been so entranced by Lenox when she was alive, once she was gone he had disappeared.
Then Benny had reached out to Mercy again. She still wasn’t sure how he had found her. But Benny showed up at Mercy’s apartment one afternoon. It was two months after Lenox’s death. While the boys were in school, he knocked on Mercy’s door with another burly guy in tow. The guy with him didn’t speak, just nodded in Mercy’s direction respectfully.
“I apologize for stopping by unannounced,” he said. “I couldn’t get hold of a phone number for you. So, I decided to come in person.”
“It’s okay,” Mercy said, unsure why her pulse rate had sped up.
“I won’t stay long,” Benny said. “I came to tell you that I got a report about Gerard. He was found dead in a burnt-out car parked on a dead-end block in Harlem.” Benny watched Mercy digest the information, a wave of emotions washing over her face. “They found the body on 147th and Lenox Ave.” Benny winked at her as he said it. He handed her a small envelope. “This is for Deon. Give that to him for me. And I know you work hard and you have pride and all that, but please don’t hesitate to call me if you ever need anything.”
He hugged Mercy goodbye and hoped that she would be able to find some ounce of solace in the fact that G had faced street justice. But it had done little to ease her pain.
It had done absolutely nothing for Deon. He felt no closure. Instead, to him it felt like someone had stolen his life with his mother and gotten away with it. Nothing but having Lenox back would fill the void she had left.
Mercy was afraid to be too hard on him. She worried that if she doled out too much tough love, he would sink even further into despair. She let him know that she was angry at his behavior, but stopped just short of condemnation out of fear that he would run away from home. She felt that she owed Lenox that much. To keep her son close and do her best to get him on the right path. Mercy had tried reasoning with Deon. She sat down to talk with him on the first anniversary of Lenox’s passing.
“Deon, I don’t know what to do or say to get through to you. You go to school and start fights for no reason. Then you get in trouble and I have to leave work to come and get you. If I lose my job, how are we supposed to get by? And if you get sent to juvie, do you know what that’s gonna be like?”
Deon had shrugged. He didn’t care. “I feel dead inside, Aunt Mercy. I feel nothing.”
Mercy shook her head. “That’s not true, Deon. You feel something. Tell me what it is.”
He stared at his hands and thought about it. “When she died, I did, too.”
It was the best way he could express what he was going through. He didn’t have the vocabulary or the strength to explain that the pain was too much for him to bear alone. That he wanted others to feel that pain, too. That he couldn’t understand how everyone around him kept living life as usual when he was enduring so much trauma. His mother had been murdered and the world kept right on spinning. Teachers standing in front of his class trying to get him to focus on a curriculum while he was missing his mother’s voice. Kids laughing together in the lunchroom or on the back of the bus while he felt like crying. Parents coming to the school for plays, conferences, and assemblies while he was an orphan. The words escaped him. But the emotions wouldn’t stop tormenting him.
He had gone to the room he shared with Judah and returned to his aunt holding the envelope Benny had left for him. It had been weeks since that visit, and this was Deon’s first time sharing its contents with Mercy. He handed it to her.
Inside was a picture of Lenox watching proudly as Deon blew the candles out on the cake at his ninth birthday party. Lenox looked like a beautiful Afroed angel with her hair framing her face like a halo. On the back of the picture, Benny had written a note in what Mercy thought was surprisingly neat cursive.
Deon, your mother was a queen. Queens raise kings. That’s what you are. Don’t ever forget that.
Mercy had held Deon in her arms as he clutched the picture and silently cried. That picture became his most valued possession.
As the years passed and he and Judah entered middle school, Mercy withdrew Judah from his private school. For one, she could no longer afford it without Lenox’s help. She also hoped that having his cousin as a schoolmate might help Deon transition to a new normal. Mercy had worried at first that Judah was going to suffer as a result of switching schools. But it turned out that Lenox had been right. Judah thrived academically regardless of which school he was placed in. While they attended I.S. 61, Judah earned a spot on the honor roll.
Deon, however, sank deeper into despair. When he had been in elementary school, he knew all the kids from the neighborhood. The majority of the students lived within a twelve-block radius of the school. But in intermediate school, kids from a variety of neighborhoods were bused in each day. Deon made friends with all the bullies from areas he had never physically traveled to. But now he had cronies from all across the borough. And it only got him into worse trouble. By the age of twelve he was a familiar name to all the cops in the north shore. He stole cars, shoplifted, got caught bringing knives to school, and got caught skipping school and smoking weed.
He and a group of friends robbed a Puerto Rican kid after school, stealing his gold chain and his jacket. It wasn’t long before the ghetto grapevine gave them up, and they got rounded up by the cops. Deon was brazenly wearing the kid’s jacket when the cops arrested him. They released him into his aunt’s custody, and he was suspended from school. He waited a couple of days before following the kid home from school, chasing him at gunpoint in broad daylight. The kid made it to his building and fled up the stairs. Deon fired several shots into the open window of the kid’s apartment, nearly striking the boy’s grandmother as she sat watching television in the living room.
Mercy had pleaded with the court, explaining the turmoil Deon had been in since his mother’s murder. She asked the judge to be lenient in his sentencing. But the judge pointed out that Mercy had been unable to corral her nephew in all the years she had been responsible for him.
“The Court believes a more forceful approach is called for. So, I’m sentencing Deon Howard to eighteen months in a juvenile detention facility for third degree criminal possession of a weapon, criminal possession of stolen property, and resisting arrest. He’ll also have to pay a $250 fine.”
Judah had taken it hard. He loved Deon and hated to see him punished, despite his rebellious behavior. He also understood that his mother was dealing with the weight of her own grief over Lenox’s death. In an effort to lighten the load Mercy was bearing, Judah did his best to stay out of trouble. While Deon raised hell, Judah steered clear of drama. He focused on his schoolwork, spent time at the after-school center until his mother got off work, and did his best to avoid bullshit at all costs.
Now Judah glanced over at his mother as they sat waiting to welcome Deon home. He could see a noticeable change in her over the years. She laughed and smiled less than she used to. With her sister gone and her nephew struggling, it was no wonder she wore her pain like part of her daily wardrobe. Judah knew that she was under a lot of pressure, and he had no intention of adding to it. Judah had friends in the neighborhood, but not the same ones as his cousin’s. Judah’s crowd toed the line between fun and fuckery. Deon and his crew didn’t give a damn about the line.
Deon had spent the past year housed in a detention center for juvenile offenders under the age of sixteen. While he was away, the tone in their home had been steadier and calmer than it had felt in years.
Xavier visited whenever his trucking route brought him to the tri-state area. Mercy still loved him, but the distance between them had taken its toll. Mercy had come up with one excuse after another for why she couldn’t relocate. Judah was thriving in school, Deon needed her nearby during his incarceration, and she had gotten a promotion at work. Xavier had resigned himself to the reality that Mercy was stuck. Or at least she thought she was. So, he met her halfway, and as the years passed, they developed a long-distance relationship that worked. Judah looked forward to Xavier’s visits. When he was around, Mercy seemed to brighten a little. And he gave Judah advice about girls, something his mother couldn’t truly provide no matter how hard she tried.
Even when Xavier wasn’t around, the climate at home had been peaceful. The chaos Deon wreaked with his violent and unpredictable behavior was gone. Mercy and Judah had been given a break from the madness. Though neither of them would admit it out loud, they weren’t looking forward to Deon’s return.
Mercy looked up and caught Judah staring at her. He smiled at her proudly.
“I don’t think you know how strong you are,” he said. “Dealing with all of this. I know it’s not easy.” He looked around at the cold and ugly surroundings and shook his head. “None of this is your fault. You did the best you could for Deon since Aunt Lenox died. I watched you shift from being a mother of one to having two boys to feed, two kids to look after. It’s not your fault that he keeps getting in trouble, Ma. I don’t want you to blame yourself.”
Mercy smiled proudly. Hearing Judah speak, watching the way he moved through the world gave her so many reasons to count her blessings. He had the wisdom of a man twice his age and the courage to be himself. He didn’t care who found his love of classic literature or his obsession with mathematic equations corny. He was confident and intelligent. She was so proud to be his mother.
“Thank you,” she managed, choking back tears. It hadn’t been easy. He was right about that.
Deon emerged then. He was tall and stocky. His face bore a few scars from the countless fights he had been in. His hair was uncombed and not well barbered. But he was still handsome underneath it all. He smiled at the sight of his cousin and gave him a hug once he reached his side.
“What up, Judah? You all grown up now,” Deon said, smiling. He looked at his cousin, proudly.
Judah’s handsome face, smooth dark skin, and athletic build made him a hit with all the girls around the way. He wasn’t the best dressed in the hood, but he had a charm about him that made him popular nonetheless.
Judah laughed. “Hey, D. Missed you, man.”
Mercy opened her arms and Deon rushed into them, hugging his aunt so tightly that he swept her off her feet. She squealed as he set her back down.
“Hey, Aunt Mercy. I’ma be good this time. I swear.”
She looked at him, skeptically, and kissed him on his cheek.
“Let’s get out of here. I hate this place.”
“Who you telling?” Deon said, rhetorically.
Mercy hadn’t visited Deon much during his time at Spofford. The trip was a long one coming from Staten Island all the way to the Hunts Point section of the Bronx. The place looked as unwelcoming from the outside as it was within. A vast, repulsive complex of white buildings surrounded by rugged barbed wire. The three times Mercy and Judah had made the trip to see Deon, she had reminded her nephew that they were trying to prepare him for a life behind bars.
“This place is gladiator school, Deon. They’re teaching you how to be in prison, how to keep their system going and become another statistic.”
Mercy kept Deon’s commissary stocked and sent him packages constantly. But he had endured his sentence largely on his own. So, she listened carefully as he recounted his experience to Judah on the trip home.
“Were you scared?” Judah asked, gently. “At first, I mean.”
Deon shrugged. “I wouldn’t say I was scared. That’s not a good word in there. Scared muthafuckas—” He caught himself and looked at Mercy apologetically. “Sorry, Auntie.”
Mercy waved him off.
Deon continued. “Being scared in there will get you hurt. I was nervous at first.”
Judah nodded, though he didn’t really understand the difference.
“I got sentenced with three other n–three other guys. And I was the only one they sent to the B Dorm.” Deon shook his head like he still couldn’t believe his luck. Or lack thereof. “That’s the toughest house in the whole spot. And there ain’t a lot of dudes from Staten Island in there to begin with. Now I’m in B9 with thorough dudes from Brooklyn, the Bronx, and Queens. I got in a fight my first day.”
Mercy couldn’t help noticing the excitement in Deon’s voice as he described getting jumped by a group of guys from Queens and holding his own. According to Deon, he had earned the respect of the other inmates and even a guard had told him, “You did your thing.”
Mercy changed the subject, eager to hear what Deon thought about starting high school in a few weeks.
“You’re a freshman now. You ready for a new start? It’s a new school, new atmosphere. You can start over.”
Deon smiled. “Sounds good!” He looked at Judah. “What’s it like in there, cuz? You’re a year older than me so you had a chance to feel it out already. Is high school as corny as it looks on TV?”
