?I'm tired, man. Been workin' all day. What you want??
?We done drove all the way out here,? Howard said. ?You know I picked up Darryl 'cause he was worried about you.?
?Well I'm fine. Just fine. You don't have to worry 'bout me.? Socrates shifted from one foot to the other as if he wanted to close the door but didn't want to be rude. Howard put three hundred and some odd pounds across the threshold to make sure that the door stayed open.
?What's wrong with you, Howard?? Socrates said. ?You wanna get hurt??
?What's wrong wit'
man? Here we come on down to the jail wit' our piggy banks and lawyers an' all you got to say is you tired and please step out the way.?
Socrates looked hard at his friend. Howard was one of the few men that Socrates was jealous of. He had a beautiful wife who had a job, he had kids that were just like butter and brown sugar. He had a job working with computers and lived in Venice down near the beach. Howard had more than Socrates could ever hope for but he didn't seem thankful or even proud.
?Let us in, Socco,? the big man said. ?We got stuff to talk about.?
?? so I went over to the MacDaniels' an' told 'em that me an' Corina would be happy to take Darryl in,? Howard was saying. He and Darryl were sitting on folding chairs in Socrates' sleeping room. Socrates only had two rooms. One was the kitchen, where he ate, and one was for sleeping and talking to his guests.
Darryl was quiet and so was Socrates. Howard explained how when he drove Darryl to school they talked about how he had been suspended for hitting a girl.
?I told 'em that maybe Darryl needed a little more supervision from somebody who come from down where he was from,? Howard said. ?'Cause you know old Mr. MacDaniels is okay but he don't know how to thump a boy upside his head when he get fresh or sullen.?
Howard playfully flicked a finger at Darryl's ear. Socrates saw the pain on the boy's face but Darryl didn't complain.
?When they took him in they thought he'd be just like their son that died, like he'd know all the rules. But I told'em that Darryl's a hardheaded boy from the hood an' he needed somebody like me t'keep him straight.?
?What they say?? Socrates asked Howard.
?They were scared, man. Scared 'cause 'a how their son died in that drive-by. You know they worried that Darryl be arguin' 'bout goin' t'bed at night. They think that might lead to crack.? Howard laughed at his own joke while Socrates and Darryl watched. ?Naw, man, they want somebody t'take Darryl.?
?They said that??
?I'ma bring the papers down to social welfare next week.?
Dizziness assailed Socrates again. He felt like a boxer sucker-punched after the bell.
? 'Cause you know, Socco,? Howard said, not yet tired of his own voice. ?You done me some good turns. You helped me out an' ain't never axed me for nuthin'. Corina said that I owed you, man. An' I know that you an' the MacDaniels don't get along so good. But you know Darryl could come down here wit' you whenever you want. I mean me an' Corina'll have custody through the foster service but you could be like his uncle.?
Darryl rubbed his hand over the top of his head and stared at Howard the mountain, as Socrates' friend Right Burke used to call Howard Shakur.
?Well?? Howard asked Socrates.
Socrates was still reeling, looking for a reason to get mad. He wanted Howard to go away. He wanted Darryl to go away too, but then he didn't. He never felt like an old man before he walked out of that jail. But now just standing up seemed like a heavy chore.
?What you want, Howard, a medal??
?At least a thank you.?
