Almost Home
By Xxavier Boone
“Step back, doors closing.”
The announcement blends into the symphony of noises that flood the station everyday. It’s been years since my ears fully acknowledged it as a sound. I don’t know why but I hear it today. I make my way to the exit and hop the fare gates on my way out.
*Beep beep*
A text message comes through as I make my way up the escalator. It’s my mom.
“Hey Ty I’m heading out in a few are you on your way home?”
I never understand why she needs to text me all the time. She still treats me like I’m a child. I wonder what she’ll do while I’m away at school. She can’t keep track of me forever.
The sunlight crashed into my eyes as I stepped out into the street. I didn’t realize how hot it was until I left the shadow of the metro station. The smell of fried chicken and French fries float their way into my senses. The carryout is the only thing that seems to still have its old coat of paint on it. Every other building around either got remodeled or sold off to someone else to make another place for the condo dwellers to hang out. I hope it stays that way. The smell it gives off every afternoon should be a historical landmark in and of itself. I almost forget the emptiness in my pockets and walk through the door.
I’ll have to ask mom if she can make some tomorrow, I think to myself. Wait no, she made spaghetti yesterday so we’ll be eating that the rest of the we-Before I can finish my thought, two little kids appear from around the corner and run into me. One falls back onto the sidewalk. They were going so fast that if they were any bigger it probably would’ve been me on the ground. I rush to bend down and pick him up, hoping he doesn’t start crying.
“You alright, lil man?” I ask cautiously.
“Yeah,” he replies, standing up and checking his hand for a scrape as I breathe a sigh of relief for the quiet. He turns to his friend with the kind of urgency that only comes when you have just a few hours until the streetlights come on to be free and alive. “Come on, let's keep playing!”
His friend shines a gap toothed smile and begins to run off again yelling at the top of his lungs, “OH NO, HE’S AN OPP! OH NO, HE’S AN OPP!” They get around the next block and I chuckle and start heading home as their screams get softer while they disappear out of my sight.
I realize it’s been months since I’ve seen my niece and nephew and make a mental note to call and check on them. I don’t even know what they like anymore. They change so much in just a few weeks, it’s hard to keep up even when I keep in touch.
My next thought is interrupted by yelling. As I continue on it gets louder and louder until I see them. Two people arguing in the street. A boy and a girl, couldn’t be much older than me. From what I can hear, the girl is absolutely laying into the boy. She is so angry and talking too fast to make out what she is saying. All I know is she is not happy and the brother is just taking it like a soldier.
He’s a stronger man than me, I think to myself. He was taller than her by at least a foot and a half. I would’ve huffed and puffed and blew her tumbling down the street by now. He looked so cool and calm though. This must’ve been a common thing for him. I remember going through this with Semone last year. Every other day there was a new issue. A girl could be wearing the same lotion as me and that apparently means we’re married and have a son on the way. Looking at him again he looks kinda familiar. Like I could’ve known him at some point in this lifetime. Maybe we went to school with each other or something...
The thought dissipates as a police cruiser speeds past. Whatever it is, I’m going to keep walking before the girl tries to bring me into their beef.
I’m about halfway home now. I see where the old corner store used to be ahead of me. It used to play go-go music out the window everyday. They shut down a few months ago; owners started seeing a lot less business over the years. Now the only beat you hear is the drum of traffic. Apparently they’re repurposing it for a new 7/11 or something. Those are usually the first signs of death for the ghettos. You can’t buy a parent’s love but I guess mom and pop don’t count.
As I get closer I see the same three guys standing outside of it drinking just like they always do. I guess you can add a new coat of paint but some things just won’t change. The hood's soft resistance. There’s a go-go remix to some pop song playing out of their speaker. They’re cracking open cans of malt liquor and one is smoking what looks to be a black and mild.
“There ain’t no use for the ones that look like you and me around here anymore,” the one farthest to the right says. “We all used up now.”
The one on the left turns to him. “What are you talking about?” he says. “We ain’t never had no use no ways.”
“Oh but we did,” the one farthest replies. “If you put a dog in a cage and beat him down every time he leaves, he’ll learn to never step out. You can leave the door unlocked and open and it still won’t never leave.”
The one in the middle finally chimes in. “What are you old niggas talking about? Y'all open one can of beer and start to become Marcus Garvey.” They look over at me. “What’s up young blood?”
“Living the dream,” I reply. “Just trying to make it home.”
“That’s what we all trying to do,” the man on the left says.
“Yeah,” pipes in the one in the middle. “No matter what you got to do just make it home. You know when you don’t know where you going, all you got is where you from.”
“Oh don’t mind him," the man on the right says. “He gets a little drunk and turns into a poet every now and then.”
I chuckle. “Hey, no worries. My uncle used to tell me the same thing when I was younger. Y'all be safe out here.” I give them a wave and once again I’m off. Two more police cars pass by me, the sirens wailing, lights flashing.
I’m just a block away now and I see where they’re headed. At the end of the street, a section is taped off. People are all gathered around looking on while police try to control the hysteria that has sprung out. And in the center of it all is a body. It’s the silent boy from earlier. The blood around him is fresh. It is fresh and people are crying. The two kids who ran into me are crying. A girl is crying. The old men are crying. The police are crying. The community is weeping. But the buildings stand still. The paint is all too fresh to know. The names are all different and they don’t know ours. There is a sadness in my chest that is boiling up my throat into anger, but the screaming is too loud for anyone to care. So I go. Keep walking home.
Then it hits me. That boy who looked so familiar. I didn’t realize it until his body began to melt into the pavement
He looks just like me.
I cross into my house and it is empty. The quiet spills outside and for a moment I forget everything is changing, but it still is. We go everyday without noticing it until it hits us like a bullet. Until the cancer is killing us. Until we can no longer-
I pull out my phone and open my messages. I go to my mom’s name.
“I made it home.”