I know, honey. In this life, rain’s gonna fall, but the sun will shine again, she says, holding
me tighter,
squeezing the tears
out of me
till they come
crashing through
like giant waves
and the sadness
and the sorrow
overflows
and I can’t fight it
anymore
and I don’t even want to
and my eyes flood
and my heart plunges
and I miss my father
so much.
Sometimes, I wish
I were a superhero
so I could fight back
against all the
doom
and the gloom
that’s trying
to destroy
me.
I wish I could torch
all the trouble
in our world
like Johnny Storm.
I wish I could
thrash
the heartache
like Ben Grimm.
I wish I could
make the sorrow
that’s in my life
invisible
like Sue Storm.
And I wish
I could stretch
my arms
like Reed Richards
all the way
to heaven
and hug my father
one more time.
Just. One. More. Time.
But for now
I’d settle
for talking
to my mother
and wishing
I could stop
seeing his face
and hearing
him laugh, and
waking up sometimes
thinking he’s still here.
Yeah, for now
I’d settle for
sleeping
through the night
and dreaming
my way back
to a little piece of
normal.
Later
The smell
of fried chicken
and mashed potatoes,
the blinding light
of the midday sun
bursting
through
the pea-green curtains,
and the dribbling sound
of a basketball
wake me up
from my long nap.
Roxie, what are you doing
in my room?
Let’s ball, she says, throwing the ball at me.
Practice
Today she shoots
fadeaways
and I practice
rebounding
the ones she misses,
which aren’t many.
Then I practice shooting
jump shots
from the corner
and she rebounds
the ones I miss,
which are plenty.
Surprise
When we get back
from the park
I’m so sweaty
even my sweat
is sweating.
While I’m in the shower,
Granddaddy bangs
on the door
and tells me,
Stop wasting
all the water
on your bony limbs,
which I thought
was the whole purpose
of taking a shower,
but whatever.
Your Uncle LeRoy is out here waiting in that hot car.
Get a move on, son!
Roxie got all As
on her report card
so her dad’s taking her
to see a basketball game
and she’s invited me,
to see
THE HARLEM GLOBETROTTERS,
the absolute best
and funniest basketball team
on earth.
I remember reading
a pretty funny
and watching
a video
that Skinny got
after he went
to see them
last year.
After two weeks
at my grandparents’
I’m actually
about to have
fun.
Say Cheese
Uncle LeRoy
is my father’s
older brother,
but he’s shorter
and doesn’t really look
like him,
except when he laughs,
which he does, loudly,
when Grandma
takes out
her Polaroid camera
and makes us pose
and while we’re
all hugged up
on each other
Granddaddy lets out
the loudest fart
in the history
of farts.
SAY cheese, don’t CUT it, Granddaddy! I say.
Nosebleed
It doesn’t matter
to Roxie—who’s got
the aisle seat—that
seats 401, 402,
and 403, our seats,
are a couple
of rows
from the very top
of the arena.
But it does to me,
because
the family
in front of us
keeps standing
and yelling
every time
a Globetrotter
dunks the ball
or does something
really cool,
which is pretty much
every play.
So, yeah, I can hardly see anything.
If watching
Roxie play ball
is like watching
a magician
at a birthday party
pull a quarter
from behind your ear,
then watching
the Harlem Globetrotters
is like watching
Harry Houdini
cut a woman in half
or reappear
from being submerged
in a ten-gallon tank
of water
with a straitjacket on.
THESE GUYS ARE AMAZING!
Halftime
Just when the emcee
comes to the middle
of the floor
and is about to announce
who will get a chance
to play C.U.R.L.Y.
(a.k.a. H.O.R.S.E.)
and possibly win
an autographed
Harlem Globetrotters ball,
his pants
get pulled down
and a basket
of confetti gets
dumped on his head
by Curly,
which sends
the whole arena
into raucous laughter.
When the announcer reads
Section four hundred,
Roxie is out
of her seat,
freaking out,
talking nonstop:
What if it’s me, Dad? WHAT IF IT’S ME!
When he says,
Row W,
she starts squealing
like Michael Jackson
just kissed her
on the cheek.
Uncle LeRoy
even stands up.
The people in front of us
turn around,
frowning.
When he says,
Seat number . . .
402,
a collective gasp
fills the arena
and I can almost see
the air leave
Roxie’s body
when she shrieks.
Sweet Georgia Brown
Well,
look at that, Uncle LeRoy says. You won, Charlie. Get on down there and give ’em the Bell business.
Really, it’s me? I won? I don’t know, maybe Roxie can go inst—
Yeah, Dad, maybe I can go, Roxie repeats, all excited at the possibility.
Now, Roxie, this is Charlie’s first game. You’ve been to see the Globetrotters plenty of times.
Yeah, but I’ve never gotten to go down on the floor like that. It’s not fair.
It’s okay, Uncle LeRoy, I—
Roxie, if you want to stay at this game, you need to change your attitude. Now tell your cousin good luck.
Good luck, she mumbles, as I stand up, making my way down the aisle to the sound of the Globetrotters’ theme music, which sounds like one of Granddaddy’s jazz songs.
Go win one for the Bells, Charlie, he says, then stands up clapping, as does everyone around us.
Everyone except Roxie.
What are the chances?
I get up,
quietly,
inch past
her bitterness,
and make
my way
down to center court
for a chance
to win!
C.U.R.L.Y.
After he makes fun
of my haircut,
squirts me
with a fake water gun,
and throws confetti
on me,
Curly shoots
a pretty easy finger roll.
I do the same. It goes in. Whew.
He shoots
a free throw
with one hand.
I shoot a free throw.
With two hands.
It almost goes in.
He shakes his head, but the crowd still applauds me.
Loudly. Whew!
Curly dribbles
the ball
from one hand
to the other,
then between
his legs and
behind-the-back-passes
to me.
I dribble the ball
then bounce-pass it
to him.
He frowns.
He walks up
to a lady
on the sidelines,
kneels like
he’s proposing marriage
or something,
and kisses her
on both hands.
The crowd goes wild.
I. Freak. Out.
But then I get an idea.
I walk over
to Curly
and kiss him.
On his bald head.
He nods, then
takes the ball,
dribbles
to the half-court line,
starts rubbing
his stomach
in a circular motion
like he’s hungry,
rubs his head,
smiles,
takes off
for the hoop,
throws the ball
against the backboard,
leaps into the air,
catches it,
and slam-dunks
it so fierce
the ball bounces
back up in the air
and almost goes
in the net.
There are a few boos,
but mostly everyone
is captivated
by the dunk.
I shrug,
start walking away.
But when the crowd starts cheering,
I turn around
and see Curly
walking toward me.
He high-fives me, then
hands me
an autographed
HARLEM GLOBETROTTERS BASKETBALL.
After all the halftime excitement
I’m actually on my feet
most of the second half,
eating popcorn,
hoopin’ and hollering,
but Roxie’s
still quiet,
still sad,
and I feel bad,
but not bad enough
to give her
my new Curly Neal—signed
red, white, and blue
basketball,
so instead
I give her
my last lemon-lime
Now and Later,
which doesn’t
make her smile
but she takes it
anyway.
On the train ride home
we thumb through
The Official Harlem Globetrotters
Souvenir Book,
reading the bios
of each of the players
and looking
at the larger-than-life
photographs.
We almost miss
our stop
’cause we’re so into it
and Uncle LeRoy
dozes off.
Dad, I think this is our stop, Roxie says, nudging him.
We all jump up
and rush
off the train,
the door closing
right behind us.
We take
the escalator
up, and just
as we reach
the top,
I hear someone call
my name
from the escalator
on the other side.
YO, CHARLIE BELL!
Going down
the escalator,
waving at me
with a single
white glove on,
and telling me
to wait
for him
to come back up
is my best friend.
Skinny in DC
What are you doing here, Skinny?
I told you I was coming to Washington, DC, Charlie Bell.
WHAT’S UP, PUNK? his cousin Ivan yells up to me from the bottom of the escalator.
I nod at him.
What’s up, Charlie?
Everything’s good, Skinny. We just went to see the Globetrotters.
They were fresh, right?
To the max.
Is that your granddad over there waiting for you?
Naw. That’s my uncle.
Who’s the cutie you’re with? CJ’s gonna be jealooouussss!
Ugh, that’s my cousin, Skinny.
LET’S BOUNCE, SKINNY, Ivan yells.
I gotta go, Charlie, but we should hang out. There’s a skating rink near where I’m staying. You wanna roll?
Now? I can’t.
No, not now, like another day.
How long are you here?
I think we’re leaving the day after the Fourth of July.
Cool.
You’ll never believe where I got a job.
At the arcade?
How’d you know?
I just guessed.
No, you didn’t. CJ told you, didn’t she?
Yeah. How is she?
Your lovey-dovey is fine.
She’s not my lovey-dovey.
Your tenderoni.
Stop being stupid.
C’mon, Charlie, you know I know.
Know what?
So you don’t mind that I kissed her?
What! You WHAT—
Gotcha, he says, laughing loud. I’m just messing with you.
She’s not THE LADY IN MY LIFE. Get it? That’s from Michael Jackson’s alb—
Yeah, I get it, Skinny.
Hey, Charlie, you miss home?
Yeah, kinda.
You should come to the Boys and Girls Club. I’m there every day.
Where is it?
Downtown.
Bet!
Bet.
Hey, Charlie.
Yeah?
You know why I’m wearing this glove?
Yeah, Skinny, I know. Because you’re bad.
Because I’M BAD, he sings on his way back down the escalator.
Su
rprise
When I get home
sitting on my bed
next to my folded clothes
that I thank
Grandma for folding
is a paisley envelope
addressed
to Charlie Bell
from Crystal Stanley.
Dear Charlie
How are you?
I hope you ’re SPLENDID!
I saw your mom
and she says
she hopes you’re finding
your smile
again.
I hope so too.
I’m going
to Myra Hall’s birthday party,
which I know you think
is kinda strange
’cause she’s always teasing
me, but it’s at
the skating rink
and you know
I’m not passing that up.
I finished reading
100 books
a few days ago,
so now I’m reading
National Geographic magazines
in the library,
’cause you can’t
check them out,
and they’re costly.
I’ve been walking
Harriet every morning
and we’re the best of friends now,
though you’re still
my best friend, Charlie.
Turn over (Not good news)
Dear Charlie (cont’d)