"I remember asking my Dad for something. I don't remember exactly what it was but I know it had a bit of a price tag on it," I said as the car negotiated the curved exit ramp with ease.
"Turn right at the light, then when you hit the first stop sign turn left.
"I do remember that he didn't say no. I was fifteen so he knew I wasn't going to take no for an answer any way. I thought the money would just come from somewhere. I didn't know any better. His answer, though," I paused "his answer was even better than no."
"The left right here?" V asked as we got to the stop sign.
"Yes."
The night air felt good. Had it been twenty years ago this ride would have been made at 2:30 in the morning. I was surprised to look at the dashboard and see that it was only 9:30 at night.
This made me happy. If I drank the right amount of water and got to bed within the hour there was a possibility that I wouldn't be dealing with a raging hangover in the morning.
"I remember saying something like 'I'm part of this family so I should have a say in things!' He just looked at me and said 'You can have a say. I have no problem with that. The only thing you have to do is come up with enough money to cover the mortgage, pay the phone bill, electric bill, gas bill, and put food on the table for the month. Once you are able to shoulder that responsibility you can have a say.'"
"Sounds like a smart man," she said.
"He was," I said reflecting. "He was. I didn't have the answer. I just stood there dumbfounded. That is when I came up with the first plan."
"Speaking of plans, when were you planning to tell me which house is yours?"
"Sorry. It's the little brown colonial on the left."
"Plans Change," whispered a voice in the back of my head as we pulled into my driveway. I sat up a little bit straighter in my seat. I wasn't jolted sober but I was jolted alert. I remembered the last time I had a rock solid plan. I remembered how my feet were trapped in stone while the machines hammered my soul into the floor. I remembered that plans borne of pain play out poorly.
"Are you going to be ok?" She asked, noticing my back was a little bit straighter.
"I'm not going to read about you being found dead in your house a few days from now, am I? You're not going to fall asleep on your porch are you?"
"You could always come up and tuck me in," I said feeling the slick smile cut across my face, "BUT this wasn't a hook up call."
She put her head down and smiled.
"You're right," she said still smiling. "This was not a hook up call. Sleep well you beautiful black man."
"Safe travels. Shoot me a text when you get home so I know you're ok."
"You've got it," she said with a little salute. "and keep me in mind if you decide to leave this job. Sorry about your kitty."
"Thank you," I said stepping out of the car.
The little convertible roared off into the darkness. The night air felt good. Twenty years ago I would have been worried about a raging hangover. I knew I was going to get a good night's sleep. I knew I would wake up the next day and have no problem with the mortgage, the phone bill, the electric bill, the gas bill, and putting food on the table. It's amazing how time and good direction can teach you to shoulder the necessary responsibilities.
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