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The first time I saw the love of my life he had a mangy beard, hair well past his shoulders and hadn’t had a shower in a week. He was, for all intents and purposes, homeless. I guess you could call him a diamond in the rough.
But, hey, he was a step up from my last boyfriend who had a problem with illegal substances and seemed to think I wouldn’t mind him stealing my keys and helping himself to four-thousand dollars in company checks from my job. Not only did I lose said job, but I got arrested, too. The creep.
Anyhow, he’s ancient history so I don’t want to revisit that whole disaster, except to let you know how I went from being a certified accountant at Wainwright and Potter Accounting Firm to doing community service in Clavania for five hours a day, then working the graveyard shift at the freakin’ Waffle Mania.
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On the third day I was at the community center, in, if I’m honest, what was a pretty scary part of town, my car was broken into. I even saw the punk who did it. This young man’s name was Yo-Yo. I’m sure it wasn’t the name his mother gave him, if she even stuck around long enough to name him, that is. If you knew half the stories of the lives of these kids, it would break your heart into at least ten pieces. It’s so sad what these kids have been through. However, does it give them the right to break the lock on my car and steal my CDs? I don’t think so.
I walked out the door with Mr. Harvey, the bald colossus of a man who directed the center, when we saw Yo-Yo jump away from my car and pull the I’m too cool to be doing anything I shouldn’t be doing act. Mr. Harvey’s lip curled, and I could have sworn I saw a small puff of smoke come from one nostril—no, he wasn’t smoking at the time.
We both knew Yo-Yo was doing a no-no. This could either make me or break me with the little guy and all of his buddies.
“Any rule against Yo-Yo taking a drive with me while we work things out about respecting people’s property?”
“You can’t take him off the premises.”
“Can I sit with him in my car for a little while?”
“That’s pushing it. What if you two sit in the front, and I sit in the back as a silent observer?” Mr. Harvey stared at Yo-Yo, but directed his comments to me.
I liked that idea. Mr. Harvey’s presence would indicate to Yo-Yo that I had the Big Man On Campus on my side.
“Lovely.” I fished my keys from my purse and swung them around my finger like I was slinging a gun.
I marched over to where Yo-Yo was trying to sprint from my car and still act as if he had no care in the world.
“Yo-Yo,” I called and ran to catch up with him. He pretended like he didn’t hear me. Big surprise, right?
When I was walking abreast with him, I smiled so sweetly as if this kid was my best friend. I invited him to come with me, linked my arm into his, and turned us around to my poor violated Toyota. Mr. Harvey stood at the rear door waiting for entry. At the car, I noticed that, sure enough, my CD carrier was missing. It was small so I had a pretty good idea where the kid had stashed it.
“Mr. Harvey, you, and I are going to sit in my car for a bit and visit,” I said.
His gaze jumped from me to Mr. Harvey. I could see the wheels spinning in his brain. Did he know the jig was up, or did he think he could he fake his way out of this?
“I can’t. My…uh…sister is s’posed to pick me up in ten minutes. I’ve got to wait on the sidewalk for her.”
“We’ll be able to see her when she gets here.” I reached for his backpack which he had slung low on one arm, but he moved it to the other side. I guided him into the front passenger seat. “Won’t this be nice getting to know each other?” I winked at him. Hurrying around to the other side, I sat on the driver’s seat, and Mr. Harvey sat behind me. As I settled in, I noticed Yo-Yo stared straight ahead, playing it cool. My heart sped. I was nervous, but I couldn’t show it. Not only did I need to prove myself to this kid but also to the man in the backseat who signed off on my service hours.
“I had a CD case on the seat. Do you know what happened to it?”
Silence.
I glanced in the rearview mirror to Mr. Harvey. I appreciated that he still hadn’t spoken.
“Yo-Yo?”
“I didn’t do nuthin’.” His fair skin had reddened all the way to his hairline.
“Would you open your backpack and let me see?”
Bending forward he unzipped the backpack resting at his feet, pulled the carrier out, and slung it at me. So, did I berate him for throwing it at me or for stealing it in the first place? Both?
“Don’t you know better than to take other people’s things?”
“No, I don’t,” YoYo snapped.
I sighed. I was the injured party here. What right did he have to be mad? “Come on, Yo-Yo. Of course, you do.”
“Then don’t ask me stupid questions.”
My mouth dropped. I couldn’t believe this kid. Glancing in the mirror again, I wished the silent observer would comment. How about some help here, Mr. Harvey? No such luck.
Picking up the carrier, I flipped through my CDs. “What do you like?”
Yo-Yo snorted. “You ain’t got nothing I want to hear.”
“Then why’d you steal my CDs?”
“Because I wanted to.”
Oh, now there’s a brilliant answer. I bit back the sarcastic comment. Looking through my music, I thought either
ABBA or Enya—something that would make Yo-Yo as miserable as possible. Enya was obviously the best choice, but could I stand it until Sister Yo-Yo arrived? Probably not. I didn’t know what I had been thinking when I was going through my Enya phase. ABBA, however, was a classic. Every person ought to be exposed to and come to appreciate their music. Yo-Yo’s time had come. Mr. Harvey’s, too. I glanced back at my supervisor wondering how he would tolerate seventies Swedish music. He struck me more as a Miles Davis kind of guy.
Just for fun, I put it on number six and hit the repeat button. I might not have been able to put up with Enya for long, but I could have listened to Dancing Queen all day.
By the fourth time through the song, I was singing and doing a pretty good job too. I wouldn’t have sworn it, but I thought I heard humming from the backseat. I turned down the volume.
“Are you going to tell me why you broke into my car and stole CDs you didn’t even want?”
Yo-Yo sat stone still refusing to look at me.
Fine. I cranked up the music again. Five more times through the song, and I turned down the dial.
“Are you ready to talk?”
Silence.
“It’s not okay to break into my car and take my stuff. It’s not okay to do that to anybody.”
“Bite me, White Lady.” Yo-Yo opened the door and ran at break neck speed to a red SUV idling on the street.
I jumped from the car, cupped my hands, and yelled to the little jerk, “Break into any more cars, and I’ll make you to listen to every minute of Carmen.” The opera was over three hours long and plenty tortuous for any kid.
Yo-Yo stepped in the back of what must have been his sister’s vehicle. “Your music sucks.” He grinned victoriously before shutting the door.
I watched the car pull away from the curb trying to control my temper. Mr. Harvey exited the backseat and stood next to me.
“Can you believe what he said to me?” I screeched. “‘Bite me, White Lady’.”
Mr. Harvey’s eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t know you were white?” He chuckled.
I raised my hand in a helpless gesture. “He’s white, too. Why would he call me that? Or tell me to bite him right in front of you? Doesn’t he have any respect?”
“Respect is earned around here, not given. He was after a reaction. I say he got one.” Mr. Harvey shut my car door. “You know what they call me? ‘De man’ and they don’t mean it in a good way either. ‘Moon Pie’ is another favorite of theirs for me. When they open their mouths and put you down, you look them right in the eyes, and you give them a reason to respect you, but you remember that whatever you say back may be the kindest thing they hear all day.”
Stunned, I couldn’t think of any response. I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t cut out for this.
Mr. Harvey studied me. “You need to be patient. With Yo-Yo and yourself. Okay?”
I nodded.
“I never thought about using music as a punishment before. You may have hit on something here. Although I have to agree with Yo-Yo. If I hear that song ever again, it will be too soon.” He glanced at his watch and strode back to the center.
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