Damien turned away to find a place within
Himself to hide, knowing that hiding was no
Answer. His mother, a woman betrayed,
Locked in the prison of her frustration,
Continued through the night
His father joined the chorus
As they sang songs of
Well-Meaning/Parental/Hallelujahs
All-Encompassing Wisdom
With an occasional blues riff
To show that they were
With It
Sleep, hard coming, dream-filled
Gnawed at the night
The too-hot autumn smothered him
With self-doubt as what he knew
Tortured all he felt
DAMIEN wakes at NIGHT
It came to him
Like a cold rush of a wave
On a dark and foggy beach
Shocking the senses
Dazzling the brain
And when he had caught his breath
Had regained his balance
Had clawed his way through sleep to
Wakefulness
He saw clearly and finally
That nothing he had thought about her
Mattered
Not that she was soft
Or firm, or sweet or wondrous beyond compare
Not that her smile
Sang to his heart
Or that her voice
Soft against the hard jazz of the city
Filled him with a delight he had
Not thought possible, no
It was the becoming that he loved
The becoming of him and her,
Of Junice and Damien, and what more they
Could be together than he had ever dreamed
Alone.
It was not just the girl
He loved, but the Them
Of them, the city shape of them
The hard concrete of them
Against the dark-blue sky of them
The sweet promise of them
Of them, and them
And them
Them
NINE a.m. DAMIEN calls JUNICE
The phone ringing, Damien sits cross-legged
On his bed, wondering what to say
The phone ringing
Forever in your arms
Is where I want to be
Holding you close
Within the space
That once held only me
The phone ringing
Forever in your warmth
The place for me and you
I feel the sun
Our life’s just begun
I know you feel it too
The phone ringing
No one answering
DAMIEN at JUNICE’S DOOR
He listened for her footsteps, heard a distant radio,
A creaking sound, Miss Ruby filling the doorway
“Junice ain’t here,” she said. “Maybe she’s at church.”
He imagined drawing a line along the tops of
Miss Ruby’s shoulders, another through the hips,
And wondered in what dimension they would meet
“You know it’s Sunday,” she said.
“And she ain’t really gone, just out for the moment.
Just away. Maybe church, or maybe just away
From heartbreak. You know how you people
Like to bring heartbreak to a woman’s door,”
Miss Ruby said. “And what was your name again?”
Damien wrapped himself in despair against
The cold wind, merciless as it lifted off the
River and pushed its way crosstown.
There was so much to say to Junice, he knew
And so little time to fit the words into his
Mouth.
His stomach churned, ached
For Junice, for her to hear his
Please, his pleas, his desperate “I love you”
The passion in “I need you so much!”
He went home and called her from his
Room
He called her as he walked down the
Street, searching passing faces
Looking for her eyes, all the
While trembling inside, trembling
That it might already be too
Late. She might have taken
Her heart to another place.
KEVIN and DAMIEN on MALCOLM X BOULEVARD
Damien, where have you been, bro?
I’ve been seeking and peeking
Around the corners and down
The streets since I heard that you and
Sledge had a serious throwdown
What was that about, man?
Issues, my pride in myths
Against his emptiness
I put love and Junice in the
Same breath and Sledge,
Whose soul barely peeks above
Indifference, scoffed and clawed
At the idea of it.
In the end, with no chance of
Winning, we both slunk away with
Our tails and tales between our legs
With only the children watching
Applauding our violent dance
Junice said something about a wound
But I see you’re merely scratched
You saw her? You spoke to her?
I’ve been calling, but there’s been no answer
I thought you knew
She’s going to Memphis
Tennessee? When?
Tonight. What will you do?
Go after her.
What airline is she going on?
She’s walking the dog, man
Greyhound. Tonight at nine.
But hear me. Hear me though
The words are coming up like
Blood from my throat because
I don’t want to speak them.
You can’t chase her, Damien.
You’d have to surrender your life
She doesn’t know what she’s going to
Do. All she got down there is an old woman
With an older Bible who might take them
In. Give them a room, a roof
The squareness of walls. But her
Situation sounds impossible.
It’s impossible for her to stay here
To surrender Melissa to a system
That doesn’t love her. To put
Her own oar into the waters of that
System.
What will you do if you find her?
Stay with her forever. Longer
If God chooses.
Damien. I love you like a brother, but
You can’t do this.
There is an excitement about Junice
I feel it when I see her, I sense it
In your voice. But excitement is not
Enough, it is not a Forever cast
True, my brother, but the flash of
Danger that surrounds this girl
Illuminates her spirit
Like lightning zagging across
The rooftops on a steamy August
Night
And in that terrible flash
I see a spirit too noble to
Put aside. And the angel of her
Presence, too precious not to love
Standing in the only
Path left for me to take
Damien, what will you do?
Gather my courage, scrape together my
Resolve, withdraw all the character I can
Muster, and go after her. Maybe in Memphis
I can find the hope of an answer, or the
Certain pain of failure. Otherwise
It’s all nothing but the constant stumble
To the grave. Wish me luck, bro.
Damien, I got your back
Wherever you are I’m going to be
There with you. I’m not a praying dude
But I’ll be talking to the Man for you
Two.
You deal with the Memphis
End, and count on me to be
And on from there, Kevin.
And on from there.
The PORT AUTHORITY BUS TERMINAL
The New York bus terminal is dark
Is dark despite the garish lights assembled
Along the tiled walls. Dark as if,
As if some malignant spirit has settled
Down with the tortured souls that rest
There until the police move them.
As if the desperate late-night travelers
To Salt Lake City and Savannah
And Memphis don’t deserve the brightness
Of hope.
On the lowest floor, among the shuffling
Ragged and hairy men, families guarding
Cardboard boxes and plastic shopping
Bags, Damien found Junice.
Sitting next to an old man
Brazil-nut brown on the hard bench
His legs as restless, as aimless
As his restless, aimless tongue
She caught her breath when she
Saw him, turned quickly
Away.
Melissa peered wide-eyed around her
Sister’s shoulder.
“Memphis is a special place,” the old
Man said, remembering a distant brawl
Of nights and thinking it might have
Been Memphis. “Good people fall in
That town, but only strong people rise again.”
Damien sat next to Junice
Knowing she could feel his warmth through
The space between them.
DAMIEN and JUNICE
Junice
Damien I don’t want to see you.
I’m so glad you came.
I don’t want you to say good-bye. Good-bye
I need to be brave, now. I’m so scared
I’m going with you
You’re not strong enough. Go back
Home. I love you, but go back home.
You belong in a safer place. There’s
So little for me in Memphis, a distant relative,
A life I don’t know. You need to be safe.
It’s all I want for you. Don’t kiss my fingers.
Junice, there’s no leaving in me.
No gentle grieving and going on
This is a forever moment
We hold in our hands
Yes, we’re in a storm
But it’s a storm we can stand
As one, as Damien and Junice
And Melissa
Wherever your heart rests
There I will live and be blessed
I’ve tried to line up the things I
Needed to say but now my feelings just
Tumble from me. I am half foolish,
Half drunk with wanting you
With wanting to take your hand
And leap into the darkness of whatever
Life will bring. Love makes me
Brave and without love I’m made
Nothing.
Aren’t you afraid?
Trembling. A bird on a leaf
My hands are numb, my knees weak
With resolution. I am Adam, reeling
From the Garden
Can I be your Eve?
Can you really leave
Yesterday’s Damien behind?
I’ll never find him again if I search a thousand years.
They’re getting on the bus, Melissa says.
We’re getting on the bus.
Yes. Yes.
JUNICE with DAMIEN and MELISSA on the BUS to MEMPHIS
As Damien sleeps, I lie with my cheek against
His side. His clothing smells of nervous sweat
The sound of his heart is comforting.
The occasional highway lights flicker through
The half-empty bus. A ghost White woman with
Dark, shiny eyes presses her face against a window.
Damien has written a letter to his parents
I imagine him typing, searching for words
Thinking again and again how useless words can be
“I will call you soon,” is all that I left for Miss Ruby
What would I add, that it is crying time?
I am crying for Miss Ruby, and vow to find
In this fearful moment I am crying for Mama
Vowing to forgive her. One day. Some day.
Melissa woke and came from her seat to
Where Damien and I huddled. I smiled
At her and she didn’t smile back. But she
Lifted my hand from Damien’s shoulder,
Kissed it, and put it carefully back.
I am crying for Damien. He is so beautiful with
His gifts of love, so wise in his reasoning, but I
Wonder if I can be strong enough for him.
And then…And then…And then I am not
Crying. I am not on a bus but a captain
Battling the tossing sea and I am peering
Straight ahead through the fog and darkness
Knowing that somewhere there is safety,
Somewhere there is a land where we can
Build and plant and grow.
Damien tells me that he has withdrawn
His savings, but worries that it will not
Be enough. I don’t answer.
Damien, I am Street, we will make it.
Damien says that we must have a plan to succeed.
Damien, I am Street, I plan to survive.
His voice dropped when he said…perhaps…we should
Marry, his arm pulling me closer.
“We’ll see, my love,” I answered.
As Damien sleeps, I lie with my cheek against
His side. His clothing smells of nervous sweat
The sound of his heart is comforting.
About the Author
WALTER DEAN MYERS is the renowned author of AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MY DEAD BROTHER, a National Book Award finalist; SHOOTER, a Children's Book Sense Summer Pick; MONSTER, the first winner of the Michael L. Printz Award; THE DREAM BEARER and HANDBOOK FOR BOYS: A Novel, both New York Public Library Books for the Teen Age; BAD BOY: A Memoir, a Parents' Choice Gold Award winner; and the Newbery Honor Books SCORPIONS and SOMEWHERE IN THE DARKNESS. He wrote THE HARLEM HELLFIGHTERS: When Pride Met Courage, the New York Library Association Book of the Season; PATROL: An American Soldier in Vietnam, illustrated by Ann Grifalconi; I'VE SEEN THE PROMISED LAND: The Life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and MALCOLM X: A Fire Burning Brightly, both illustrated by Leonard Jenkins; and the Caldecott Honor Book HARLEM and JAZZ, both illustrated by Christopher Myers. He makes frequent appearances with the National Basketball Association's "Read to Achieve" program. Mr. Myers lives with his family in Jersey City, New Jersey.
You can visit him online at www.walterdeanmyers.net.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
Also by Walter Dean Myers
FICTION
Autobiography of My Dead Brother
National Book Award Finalist
Crystal
The Dream Bearer
Handbook for Boys: A Novel
It Ain’t All for Nothin’
Monster
Michael L. Printz Award
Coretta Scott King Author Honor Book
National Book Award Finalist
The Mouse Rap
Patrol: An American Soldier in Vietnam
Jane Addams Children’s Book Award
The Righteous Revenge of Artemis Bonner Scorpions
Newbery Honor Book
Shooter
The Story of the Three Kingdoms
NONFICTION
Angel to Angel: A Mother’s Gift of Love Bad Boy: A Memoir
Brown Angels: An Album of Pictures and Verse I’ve Seen the Promise
d Land:
The Life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Malcolm X: A Fire Burning Brightly
Now Is Your Time!:
The African-American Struggle for Freedom
Coretta Scott King Author Award
The Harlem Hellfighters: When Pride Met Courage
Credits
Cover art © 2006 by Tristan Eaton
Cover design by Ray Shappell
Copyright
STREET LOVE. Copyright © 2006 by Walter Dean Myers. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub © Edition NOVEMBER 2008 ISBN: 9780061975080
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