Snitch by Allison van Diepen
“That’s an amazing idea! What did he see?”
“He saw an old lady pushing her walker. Kids skipping rope. People waiting for the bus. Life, you know? So my teacher said I gotta add something more dramatic. She said I must’ve seen something dramatic on the streets I could write about, like a carjacking or a drive-by. That would really get the judges’ attention.”
“But you didn’t want to change it.”
“Nah, I wouldn’t change it. I told her I don’t write tragedy. I don’t see why somebody has to die or get hurt for it to be good. Sometimes it’s good if nothing much happens. If it’s just a normal no-drama day. But she didn’t get it.”
He watched me over the rim of his glass, and I could tell he was hoping that I got it.
“I’m glad you didn’t change it, Eric.”
“If I had, I might be a grand richer. But I’m glad I didn’t too.”
Eric sipped his wine, smiled. Eric was turning out to be so much more than I expected.
* * *
I woke up with the scent of him on my skin. Must’ve been from all that nuzzling in the cab.
The clock read 1:44 p.m. That was no surprise, since I got in sometime past 5 a.m.
I rolled over, hugging the covers, wishing they were him. Eric, Eric, Eric. I closed my eyes to relive last night. The memory was like a dream, vivid, trancelike. I’d started out sitting across from him; by the end of the night, I’d been curled in his lap. I could still feel his breath on my cheek and his lips against my neck.
He was so different than any other guy. He could talk about something just to explore it, instead of always turning things around to make them about him. It wasn’t what I would’ve expected from a bad boy from Detroit.
Maybe I’d got the bad boy part wrong.
He didn’t talk much about his life in Detroit, but when he did, he talked with a lightness that his eyes didn’t carry off. Maybe that darkness was just a part of who he was. Or maybe it came from the type of experiences that made you know what blood really looks like. I didn’t know. All I knew was that I wasn’t going to push him to tell me more than he wanted to. He’d come to Brooklyn to start over, clean slate, and that meant letting go of the past.
I sighed, wondering if I should have let Eric stay over. Dad had spent the night at Gina’s, of course, and though he usually came home to shower and change before his Saturday shift, it wouldn’t have been hard to have Eric over without him ever knowing about it.
But then, if Eric had stayed over, he might’ve kept kissing me that way he does, and he might’ve kept staring at me with that hunger that made me ache.
If he’d stayed over, there wouldn’t have been any sleep at all.
FEVER
I dangled out the door as Eric came up the hallway. In faded jeans and a leather jacket, he was amazing.
He cupped my waist and backed me into the apartment, giving me a long, mind-spinning kiss. It lit me up inside, reminding me that last night had been real.
“How are you feeling today?” he asked.
“Great. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He laughed. “You were a little tipsy last night. I couldn’t believe it. You only had two glasses of wine.” He squeezed my waist. “Lightweight.”
“I slept it off.”
“I see that.” He leaned forward, burying his face in my hair. “God, you smell good, Divine.”
The nickname sent tingles down my spine. Divine. Which, according to the dictionary, meant, Godly, or with heavenly qualities.
“Ready to get your eat on?” he asked.
“Sure am.”
“Good. I’m making sancocho, my favorite Dominican dish.” He spun me out of his arms and started unloading his knapsack: fresh cilantro, plantains, onion, potatoes, meats . . .
I picked up one of the packages. “We’re having goat?”
He grinned. “You’re gonna love it. It’s one of the three meats I’m using: chicken, goat, and smoked ham. Some people use more.” He pulled five little spice jars out of his knapsack. “I forgot to ask if you had spices, so I brought my own. Where are the pots?”
I got out several pots and watched him take control of the kitchen. I could tell he’d cooked this dish before because he seemed to know exactly what to do without the help of a recipe.
“Should I peel some potatoes?” I asked.
“Sure.”
As I peeled, I kept glancing at him. I just knew that his dream of being a chef was going to be reality one day. It was refreshing as hell to find a guy who knew where he was going in life, unlike Joe, who hadn’t had a clue, or Black Chuck, who’d be lucky to graduate high school.
And I couldn’t believe that Eric, this guy who was driven, this guy who had goals, this guy who was hot, was actually cooking me dinner. When was the last time anyone had done that? Maybe my grandma last Christmas. Definitely not my dad.
An hour later, we sat down to eat. I closed my eyes as the flavors melted on my tongue. “Wow.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I gulped another mouthful before saying, “I hope you won’t forget me when I’m trying to make a reservation at your restaurant someday.”
“Forget you? You’re gonna co-own it with me.”
I wished!
I refilled my bowl twice before I could admit that I was full. Neither of us had room for dessert, which was good, since all I had was cheap drugstore cookies.
Piling the dishes in the sink and promising myself I’d do them in the morning, I went to the couch. Eric was looking at the pictures on the mantel.
“This has to be your mom.” He picked up a framed picture of her smiling face.
“Think I look like her?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“But she’s got . . . a sparkling something, you know? Something about her that’s just beautiful.”
He looked at me, suddenly serious. “You got that, too, Julia.”
“No, I don’t. Not the way she had it. But one day . . . one day maybe I will.”
“Did your dad take this picture?” he asked.
“Yeah. You can tell she was looking at the man she loved when the picture was taken. Doesn’t she look so happy?”
“She does.” He put the picture down carefully. “Your dad must’ve been devastated to lose her.”
“They say we’re lucky if we ever find the one person who’s perfect for us. My parents found each other.”
Eric came over to the couch and sat beside me. “You always surprise me, Divine.”
“How?”
Turning to me, he slid a hand into my hair. “You just do.” He kissed me.
Sliding my arms around his neck, I opened my mouth against his. Need for him poured through me. I wanted his body, his heart, his soul to be mine.
He pulled back slightly, his dark lashes shielding his eyes like tinted windows. I could feel his heat and his heartbeat against me, and I knew he was trying to keep himself in check.
He kissed me again, taking my breath away. It thrilled me and scared me at the same time.
“Eric, did you mean what you said in the text?”
“About what?”
“That whatever I choose to do is cool . . . I mean, in terms of sex.”
“Of course I meant it.”
“I just wanted to make sure.”
“Come here.” He hugged me, and I relaxed against his chest, feeling my tension ebb. It was all good, Eric and me. Just like I’d hoped.
I felt his lips travel down the side of my neck, gently nipping and kissing. Then we heard a key turn in the door.
We sprang apart like we’d been splashed with cold water. I smoothed my hair just as my dad walked in. Seeing us on the couch, he scowled.
“Uh, Dad, this is Eric. He’s a new friend of mine.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. DiVino.” I was impressed at how unfazed Eric was. He couldn’t have been more casual if we’d been sitting there talking baseball. He got up, offering his hand.
Dad gav
“Eric’s been looking forward to meeting you, Dad.”
Dad turned to Eric. “Is that right?”
“Yes, sir. I heard you work for the MTA. I’m taking urban planning as an elective. I have a few questions for you.” Damn, he was smooth.
“Oh yeah?” Dad went to the fridge. “Want a beer, Eric? Then I’ll tell you about my job.”
I leaned back. Yeah, they’re going to get along just fine.
Julia:
my dad loves u
Eric:
yea right
Julia:
seriously he said ur a very mature young man n he isnt easily impressed
Eric:
good i got him fooled lol
Julia:
when can i meet ur dad?
Eric:
why bother?
Julia:
i dunno i figured were seein each other n all
Eric:
i dont tell my dad anything thats going on in my life. he doesnt need to know i have a girlfriend. i do don’t i?
Julia:
yea u sure do. its up to u, i don’t see wat the big deal is.
Eric:
me neither, its not like we gettin married or anythin
Julia:
ud never be THAT lucky
Eric:
lol dont be too sure about that. anyway my dad isnt exactly citizen of the year. hes not smart like ur dad. i dont see u getting along, ud call him a sexist pig
Julia:
i wouldnt to his face lol
Eric:
yea but u get the pic. eventually ull meet him just not now
Julia:
i understand
Eric:
i knew u would. i CANT WAIT to c u again divine
Julia:
me too. night Eric
Eric:
back atcha
I couldn’t go to bed yet. I felt a poem in me.
I’d call it, simply, “He.”
He is dark, mysterious.
A Stranger to Brooklyn
But familiar
With its ways.
Unafraid of the dark side,
Of the Hood,
Of Himself.
A Shady Past
A Brighter Future
With Divine
Beside Him.
JUMPED IN
Eric didn’t show up at his first class the next morning.
No big deal. He liked to sleep in.
When he didn’t appear for the second or third, I knew something was up.
I called his cell.
“Hey, Divine.” I heard traffic in the background.
“Where are you?”
“On my way to school. I decided to take the morning off. Meet me at the bleachers at twelve fifteen?”
“I’ll be there.”
I showed up at the bleachers ten minutes early. Turned out he was ten minutes late. Eventually I saw him come around the corner onto Batchelder Avenue. He was walking slower than usual. As he got closer, panic shot through me.
“What happened to your face?” I demanded. “Who did this to you?”
When he tried to smile, I noticed that one of his front teeth was chipped. Oh, no! Who the hell messed with my boyfriend’s perfect smile?
“It looks worse than it is, Divine. I was just messing around.”
“Messing around? You’ve got a black eye. And your face is cut!” The thought of somebody hurting Eric made me sick inside. I hugged him.
He winced and stepped back. “Bruised ribs.”
“Did you see a doctor?”
“It’s not that serious.”
“How do you know your ribs are bruised and not broken?”
“I can tell. Even if they were, there’s nothing they can do about broken ribs.”
“So, what happened?”
“Well, I kinda did it to myself.”
“You’re not making sense, Eric.”
“I was with my buddies in the FJC and . . .”
I frowned. “Since when do you hang out with them?”
“Since Black Chuck introduced me. Julia, I asked them to do this.”
He just looked at me, like I was supposed to fill in the blank. But I didn’t want to. My mind was darting to places that scared me, so I kept silent, waiting for him to go on.
“Julia . . . I asked them to jump me in.”
No way. He had to be playing. Eric was so much smarter, so much more mature than any guy I knew. There was no way he’d join a gang. Eric came to Brooklyn to start over.
He searched my eyes. “Aren’t you gonna say something?”
“This is a grimey joke, Eric.”
“It’s not a joke.”
Okay. So it wasn’t a joke.
“Then it’s fucked up!”
He looked startled. “Calm down. Look, I knew you wouldn’t like it, but you’ve gotta understand—this is what I want.”
“Was it Black Chuck who convinced you?”
“Black Chuck had nothing to do with it. Actually, he was mad worried about how you’d react. But I knew where I should be. This is gonna take time to get used to, Julia. But if you can accept Black Chuck as a Crip, then you can accept me.”
“It’s not the same. He’s not my boyfriend.”
“C’mon, Julia. You see things too black and white. These Crips are good guys. They’re like a family. I got nothing in this city. Why shouldn’t I have buddies?”
This wasn’t Eric talking. Those words couldn’t be coming out of his mouth.
“You’re a follower,” I said. “I never thought you needed colors to tell you who you are.”
“I don’t. You act like you know everything, Julia. But there’s a helluva lot of shit going on that you know nothing about. So don’t preach at me.”
“Preach at you? You know how I feel about gangs!”
“Yeah, and two of your best friends are in gangs. What does that say?”
“That’s not the point. If you really cared about me, you would’ve talked to me about this before getting jumped in.”
“I knew what you’d say, and I wanted to make this decision on my own. I’m asking you to respect that. You don’t need to have anything to do with the Crips. Can’t you see past that and be with me?”
“I can’t, Eric. You know I can’t.” I started to walk away, then stopped. “Just answer one question. Why? You really did it just to have buddies?”
He dropped his eyes. “Back in Detroit, I was Crip.”
It was like a blow to my gut.
He was Crip the whole time.
* * *
I didn’t go back to class that afternoon. Screw it.
I held back tears the whole bus ride home. Once I got to my apartment, I burst like a dam. It felt like something in my chest had been ripped out. Now there was just a gaping hole.
All my instincts had made me think that Eric would never get involved in a gang. I hadn’t even worried about him hanging around with Black Chuck. Little did I know it was like putting a bottle of vodka in front of a recovering alcoholic.
Was this my fault? Would Eric have stayed square if I hadn’t introduced him to Black Chuck?
I doubted it. Eric didn’t regret joining the FJC. He’d made it clear that he hadn’t been pressured into it. But why would he want that kind of life? When you joined a gang, sure, you had new friends, but you also had new enemies in the rival gangs. Why would anyone want that kind of drama?
If he’d planned to join the FJC all along, I didn’t see why he hadn’t gone for a Crip girl. Why go for me when he knew I had no love for gangs?
I ran out of tissue so I started using toilet paper. The tears kept coming. I missed Eric already. But how could I go out with him when he stood for everything I hated?
He was a gangbanger. A follower. And he’d kept me in the dark so I wouldn’t try to talk him out of joi
Our relationship was over. OVER. Three weeks of bliss, then my world came crashing down.
His loss. Definitely his loss.
So why did it hurt so much?
After a while I stopped crying, grabbed some pretzels, and switched on the TV. Some skinny white guy was talking to dead people. It made me think about my mom. Tears filled my eyes again. Wasn’t it at times like this that a girl needed her mom?
I almost jumped out of my skin when the apartment buzzer rang.
Was it Eric?
Should I answer it?
After the second buzz, I did. “Hello?”
“Julia!”
Q.
“Come on up.”
I waited with the door half open. When she saw me, her eyes widened. “Julia, what’s wrong?”
“Eric joined the FJC,” I said, plunking down on the couch.
“Oh my God. Are you serious? That explains why his face was so messed up today. Why’d he do it?”
“Apparently he was a Crip back in Detroit. I guess that’s why his mom sent him here in the first place.”
“And he didn’t even tell you? That asshole!”
“Yeah. So I broke up with him.”
“Of course you did! You don’t want to be with somebody like that. You deserve the best.”
I sniffed. “I really thought he wasn’t the type to join a gang.”
“You don’t think Black Chuck pressured him into it, do you?”
“Don’t get me started on Black Chuck. He shouldn’t have brought Eric to meet his friends.”
“To be fair, maybe Eric wanted to meet them.”
“Black Chuck could’ve said no. He knew how I’d feel!”
“If Eric wanted to join, he would’ve done it anyway, with or without Black Chuck’s help.”
“I know. How am I going to face Eric in class?”
“Easy. You don’t give him the time of day.”
LOW
As it turned out, I shouldn’t have been worried about seeing Eric in class. He didn’t show up at school for the rest of the week. No doubt it was the influence of his new crew.