running past the camera. The shot of my dad though, holding one of the kids at the party, had good sharpness and contrast. He was captured eternally smiling at my blurry head.
I showed the flick to my mom. “Who is this little boy Daddy is holding? Is that Aunt Jene’s son?”
Velma snatched the picture, crumpled it and tossed it in the waste basket.
“Momma!” I whined.
“You want me to start getting rid of stuff. There you go.”
“How can you still hate him? He’s dead! And I don’t have that many pictures of him.” I got the photo out the trash and uncrumpled it on the counter.
“Am I supposed to forgive him because he’s dead?” she asked.
“Yes!”
“I can’t do it, Tyesha. I forgave him too many times and he kept cheating. And I see you making the same mistakes I made. When are you gonna let that no-good boy Rodrick go? Every time I check your profile page, I pray to God your relationship status has changed. I’m disappointed every time.”
Sometimes I wished I hadn’t added my mother as a friend. I introduced her to the Site about three years ago, not too long after my father, a Rollin 60s Crip who migrated from Los Angeles, died. He burned to death in a pool hall fire. His body was discovered, black and charred, with his arms protectively wrapped around his girlfriend—and that infuriated my mother even more. I got her to create a profile in hopes that she would find a male friend from her high school days, but it seemed like she paid more attention to my stats than her peers’.
“I don’t want you to think I’m ‘stalking’ your page,” she went on. “I don’t comment on your statuses like I used to. I’m just worried about you, Tyesha.”
I realized what she was getting at. “Momma, my status today wasn’t about you.”
She started chopping again.
“I’m serious. It was about somebody else.”
“Okay, whatever. Your daughter’s upstairs.”
In the mail bin beside the microwave, I caught sight of an opened bill with Wells Fargo printed on the return address. I didn’t have to read the whole letter to know what it was. Two words at the top said it all: “mortgage” and “foreclosure.” In the past, I had tried to give my mother money because I knew she was struggling to make it after my father passed. She refused because she thought it was going to come from Rodrick’s drug money. Not that she was against drug money—my father sold drugs from time to time. She was just against
I gave my mother a warm hug from behind and went up and found Kylie playing with some of my old dolls. I started to ask her where she found them, but it was obvious she’d got them out of one of the many boxes cluttering this room. She loved coming over here because she never knew what she’d find.
After giving her the wettest kisses and hugging her until she grunted for air, I pushed some old clothes off the twin bed and had a seat. Crossing my legs as I loaded up The Site on my phone, a childish grin spread across my face. I couldn’t wait to see the comments about my stalker stat and respond.
Cara Unbroken Fisher: My ex-boyfriend’s cousin keep telling me how sexy I am on all the photos I post. Ugh! He is ugly as shit.
Christina MsFineGirl: That’s why I’m extra careful who I accept as my friend on here. If u don’t know me, DON’T SEND ME A FRIEND REQUEST!
Melissa Nelson: I feel you, Tyesha. My next door neighbor always tells me “good morning” and “good night” on my wall. It wouldn’t feel so weird if he wasn’t a 54-year-old white man! That’s why I keep all my curtains closed.
Quita Wheeler: One of my so-called “friends” came to my job once, trying to mack on me. I played his ass to the left. Get a life, fool.
Tyesha816: @Quita Wheeler. That’s what happened to me! A stalker showed up where I work-out at. He tried to make it look like he just so happened to show up at the same time as me. Needless to say, I blocked his ass.
Joanne Dunley: OMG!
Deja Michelle: when was this??!!
Tyesha816: Right after you left.
Fedbound Marley: I love all my stalkers!
When Fedbound Marley’s comment popped up, I laughed out loud and Kylie came and looked at my phone to see what was so funny. She saw it was reading involved so she went back to playing with her dolls.
I clicked Like on Marley’s post.
Then I scrolled to Rodrick’s page to see what was going on with him. At the top of his wall was a message that a guy named Kenneth C.r.e.a.m. posted about six minutes ago. I gasped as I read it. And dark anger began boiling inside me.
Immediately, I dialed his number and put the phone to my ear. It rang until it went to the voicemail. I called two more times and it did the same thing.
I called Gideon.
“Hello?”
“Are you with Rodrick?” I asked.
He hesitated. “Nah, I’m solo.”
“I really need to talk to him, Gideon. If he’s with you, put him on the phone.”
“I’m not with him. I’m serious. But he should be calling me in a couple minutes. What’s wrong?”
“When you talk to him, tell him to check his profile page as soon as possible. And after that, tell him I’m through playing his games.”
I hung up, tried to squeeze my phone until it broke. I looked up at the ceiling and took a breath, hoping my tears wouldn’t fall with my head back. I didn’t want to cry in front of Kylie. My instincts were screaming for me to go out in the streets and find Rodrick, give him the biggest ass kicking he ever received. But dinner would be ready soon and I know my mom would be pissed if me and Kylie left before eating.
I deleted the message Kenneth posted on my baby’s father’s page. The deletion would only effect my profile, though. Everybody on the Web who was friends with them would still be able to see the post, but at least I wouldn’t have to.
-
Kenneth C.r.e.a.m. > Rodrick Al-Bashir: Stay the fuck away from my baby momma’s house, nigga! Or I’ma beat yo ass AGAIN!
August 14th, 5:30 p.m.
CHAPTER 5
The fact was he never beat up Rodrick Brown. But he did push him to the floor years ago in the high school cafeteria, and as Rodrick got to his feet security was there to keep them separated. They’d been arguing about who fucked Wendy Hartley first—who was now Kenneth’s baby’s momma—and when Rodrick turned and showed pictures of Wendy naked on his phone to everybody in the lunch room, Kenneth shoved him from behind.
