The Block Series Read online

his boys, so we invited them to come along too, as Shonelle said “the more the merrier”. As we walked down the block, Jamal told me he was sad to hear I was leaving the block and then he grabbed my hand and put it in his hand.

  When we got to the ice cream parlor, we all ordered the same thing (as usual) and we told Jamal and his boys how good it was so they got it too. One of Jamal’s boys Teyshaun said he had never had anything more delectable in his life. That got us all laughing.

  By the time we had reached Jamal’s flat, our ice cream was all gone. Everyone said they would see them later, except me, I wasn’t able to really be able to say that. Jamal took my hand once again and led me up to his top step. He said he was gonna miss me, miss having someone to show off for, miss having someone to run into and smashing their ice cream into their face. I blushed, giggled a little bit, and then gave him a hug. Jamal hugged me back, then pulled back a little bit and kissed me. I was surprised, but I didn’t run or protest. I kissed him back and told him I should get home, but that I would miss him with all my heart.

  When I rejoined with my girls, I told them about it, and that if I didn’t have to move I would have let Jamal be my boyfriend. They all said their awwws and Jalissa promised me she would never date him, even though that one time she had kissed him.

  We finally reached our apartment building on our Brooklyn block, but we didn’t go inside. Instead, we sat down on the step, all on the same step again, with me being in the middle. We all held hands, each not wanting to let go. Allyah said, “Like our hands are together now, we will all reconnect one day.” That statement right there sent tears running down my cheeks. Even though it was still hot outside, I felt the warm, clear tears run down and dampen my black cheeks. All of us held each other close till my Mama called out the window it was time to come in. I had to go to bed extra early that night since the next morning we had to be up real early to get all of our stuff and move out the building.

  As I slugged up the stairs that night, I had a thought that in the morning I would grab that chalk and leave a goodbye note on the sidewalk outside the building for all my friends on the block. I went to bed that night, not as sad as I had been that morning because I now had the plan in place to leave a final goodbye.

  In the morning, I popped out of bed at Mama’s call, and then helped her carry all of our stuff downstairs, but not forgetting to grab the chalk. I put all the boxes in the taxi that had come for us, then told Mama to wait a minute. I ran back over to the entrance right below the stoop with the chalk and bent down to write my goodbye. I was thinking of something so very sincere to write, but all that came to my mind was one word. I wrote that word which was “Goodbye” and as I did that, that beloved piece of chalk that once had been in all of our hands, simply broke.

  I hopped in the cab, squeezed in between my suitcase, cardboard boxes, and Mama. As the car drove off, I looked in the dirty glass, back at that Brooklyn block, back at our building, back at the message that I had wrote, till I couldn’t see it no more.

  As I lay in my bed in my new home, I think about everything and everyone from Brooklyn. I know this new place is nowhere like my old block. This place is like a strange planet for a little black girl from Brooklyn, there’s no heavy traffic, no city sounds, no yelling neighbors except for the occasional “How ya’ doing?” from one lawn to the next. I am thinking about Allyah, Jalissa, Shonelle and her sister Charmaine, Jamal and his boys, the ice cream shop, the jump rope and chalk, the stoop, and whether or not Mama will make pancakes in the morning. Before I fall asleep in my new bedroom with my window facing the woods, I think how I, Miss Akeiyla Beal, no longer live on the Brooklyn block in apartment B-6.

  “Back On the Block”

  by: Matthew Stein (Cotufa)

  (Story number 3 of a 3-part story)

  I remember living on that Brooklyn block in apartment B-6, with all my friends, my Mama, and I remember Jamal and his boys. I remember it was all like yesterday, but in fact, that had been 11 years ago.

  I remember being on the block, but also moving off of it, that dreadful day. I remember the last goodbye I had left my friends and how those sharp tears stung the corners of my hazel eyes as I had stared out of that filthy taxi back window. I had only hoped my friends Allyah, Jalissa, Shonelle, her sister Charmaine, and Jamal had gotten to read that message that I had written before the cool rain washed it away and only left smears and traces of chalk on the sidewalk. I hoped they hadn’t torn down the building in some new construction project that them rich folk had been putting up all around the cities in New York. I hoped my friends missed me as much as I missed them. I hoped Jamal hadn’t gotten married to anyone and I hoped he remembered that quick goodbye kiss we had shared on that top step of his stoop on that warm summers eve.

  All of these things I had been hoping for and thinking about for all the years that I had spent living here in this new town with Mama. She had a new job in this town that she enjoyed, but she said she never would enjoy it as much as her old one in Brooklyn. Instead of being a cleaning lady, she had a cleaning lady, see, Mama was now a secretary for a doctors office. Now, most people would like to have a job like this, but at her work, Mama said she was always on the phone or the computer typing up various things and didn’t give her much time to think or to move around physically like before. Mama had always been an active person, but since moving here, she slowed down quite a bit. In the mornings I remember waking up to fresh flapjacks made by Mama, but more recently she only had time to throw a few pieces of bread in the toaster or pour a lousy bowl of oat cereal with a splatter of milk because of her rushing to get to work and me having to get to school.

  Three years ago I had graduated High School with honors, I was always a pretty smart girl, then after that I graduated the local community college after doing two years there. I had thought about my future and what I would like to do, but every time I settled on a career choice, I suddenly thought of a different one. Mama was always saying I would make a good beautician and that I could one day own my own beauty shop if I wanted to. I think the only reason she said this was so she didn’t have to fork out thirty-five dollars every time she went to get her hair done, thinking I would do it for free if I ever did own my own salon. Every time I was undecided about a career choice, I always looked at that as an option to fall back on, I mean Mama was right, my dreads were always looking nice, never greasy or tangled.

  The house that we had moved into was a nice place, a lot more spacious than our other flat. My room had a queen sized bed, a walk-in closet, a dresser, nightstand, and a window that allowed the bright sunshine in and a grand view of the woods. The woods were the real adjustment from Brooklyn to here.

  At first, I wouldn’t even go out to the woods. I thought a bear would find me and eat me up as soon I stepped foot into the mossy forest. As I got older though, I decided one day I must venture to find out what was all in the dense trees and bushes.

  I was about twelve years old and I remember I got up real early, way before Mama, made a honey ham and cheese sandwich, put it in a paper sack, then made my way outside. I took a deep breath and headed into an opening between the oak tree and a pine tree. That day I walked and walked, admiring all the different birds, flowers, and trees that the forest held. I remember I sat down on a log about noon and ate the lunch I had packed. I had explored a little bit more, then headed home right as it was sprinkling and starting to rain. Mama was just getting home from work that day and I made it into the house before she even had known I was gone.

  After that, I had many adventures in the woods because it was one of the few interesting things that this town had to offer. I did make friends from school, but none of them were like Allyah, Jalissa, Shonelle, her sister Charmaine or Jamal. These kids in this town all had white faces, while I, Miss Akeiyla Beal, was the only black face in the classrooms. It didn’t bother me too much, as I learned to fit in as best I could, but I did feel the difference when I thought about how in Broo
klyn we were all the same.

  In school I did very well, because I studied hard. I didn’t have much else to do around the town, although, I did pick up various jobs from our neighbors asking me to clean their cars or raking up the leaves from the heavy winds that seemed to occur throughout many weeks in almost every season. Whenever it was real windy outside, my braids blew in the air, sometimes slapping me in the face. I always walked to school with this girl named Jennifer Ann Jones. One day while we were walking and the wind was blowing harder than any six year old blowing out the candles on a birthday cake, Jennifer Ann said she wished her hair blew like my braids. I told her I could do her hair like mine, but she said she wasn’t sure how it would look and I agreed. I told her I didn’t think braids would look good in her blonde hair against her pale white face. We both laughed at that, but I did tell her that I didn’t do too bad at doing hair and that she was welcome to come over anytime for a new ‘do.

  On occasion she would come over and let me do her hair, even if it was just for practice and she swore that if was ever a beautician that she would spread the word as a reference and also that