Margaret Sexton - A Kind of Freedom

He walked back to the elevator now though feeling like a different man than the one who had walked into the hospital a few hours earlier, as if he had been reacquainted with the boy he’d been, who’d held so much promise, but the promise wasn’t specific to basketball or anything really, it was all encompassing, and there was no way he wouldn’t be able to parlay it into something real. He didn’t know what it would be, but it would have to be more than bagging groceries, selling weed even. No, he’d finish this last batch, then he’d start thinking about next steps.

He didn’t go home for the next four nights. Alicia’s people asked to relieve him, but there was nowhere else he wanted to be. He and Licia fell into a routine in that hospital room, taking turns waking up every two hours, watching old movies, and in a state of delirium, speaking the characters’ names instead of each other’s. Mostly, they just stared at the baby and imagined different versions of his future, reminisced on different aspects of their own lives that might apply to him, the height he’d get from his father.

“But now that I think about it, I don’t want him to play ball. Too risky,” T.C. said.

Or the intelligence he’d inherit from Licia, who was just a year from finishing nursing school.

“A doctor,” she said. “Not a nurse, but a doctor.”

At the root of it, they didn’t care, not yet; the child they’d created had come out perfect, and it had plucked them both out of the realm of ordinary existence and elevated them to the level of gods.

The night before they were scheduled to leave, Aunt Sybil came to see them. She walked in in her fancy suit and sharp heels clanking against the linoleum. T.C. used to put on a collared shirt for her visits, but all he could think now was that her shoes would wake Alicia, who had finally fallen to sleep.

“I come bearing gifts.” Aunt Sybil handed him a giant bag.

“Thanks,” he pulled out the onesies, socks, and sailor suits. “We appreciate it.”

He let her hold the baby, then when Licia stirred, they walked the portable bassinet up and down the hallway.

They talked about the delivery for a while, when he’d come back home; Aunt Sybil noted it was a good thing he could make it for the birth, said MawMaw was beside herself; Sybil hadn’t seen her so happy ever since PawPaw died. When the pleasantries were over, she turned to him.

“I never had my own kids, and you know I hate telling grown people what to do, but the real reason I came out here is for you. It’s always nice to see a new generation come in, but you’ve got to do right by him, T.C. He’s too beautiful to let him down.”

T.C. laughed the silly, nervous laugh Aunt Sybil had elicited from him his whole life.

“I know that, Aunt Sybil,” he said. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not just worried about you, son. I’m worried about that child. Well, I’m worried about the both of you. I want to see you do something productive with your life.”

They turned the corner to walk back in the opposite direction.

“I wanted to run something by you, T.C. You know I closed my own practice and started working at a firm.”

“Yeah, Mama told me the man got you.”

“Yeah, well the man pays the bills, let me tell you. Nothing like a paycheck every two weeks.” She laughed, a polite chuckle. “Anyway, they’re looking for a mailboy. It’s not much, but if you do all right there, you could rise up to paralegal. Then, if that seemed like a good fit, I have enough stowed away to pay for you to go to law school.”

He laughed. “Law school? I barely made it out of the twelfth grade.” He laughed again, but she cut him short.

“That’s because your focus was off. Basketball is great as a hobby, but you can’t rely on it. I told your mama that when you were a boy, but no, that made too much like sense. Anyway, here we are now, and I have an opportunity for you.” She stopped walking, gripped his wrist. “Don’t answer me now. I want you to think about it, really think about it, ’cause if you take it, I’m going to need your commitment. You know I’m just starting out at this place, T, and I’d be putting my neck out for you.”

He nodded. “I know,” he said. “I know.”

Licia was up when they got back, and she and his aunt said quick hellos. T.C. walked Aunt Sybil out.

“I’ll let you know in a week or so,” he said before they hugged.

When he got back, Malik was more alert than T.C. had ever seen him.

“What she wanted?” Licia asked.

“To offer me some job.”

“Hmph. Working for her?”

“Yeah. In her new office.”

“That’s funny, you always said you wished Sybil would give you the hookup.”

“Yeah, I know. But the timing is off. I got some things I need to finish and then maybe—”

“Don’t be stupid, T,” Licia cut him off. “That’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, what she’s proposing, and the timing is perfect. You know Sybil wasn’t fucking with you after jail. But she came all the way out here to see the baby and offer you that job. That’s something. I mean, maybe Malik worked out that miracle himself.” She paused, cooing at the baby. “Don’t mess it up by being prideful.”

“I’m not being prideful.” T.C. lifted the baby from Licia’s arms. “I’m not being prideful,” he repeated in a baby voice, making funny faces with his seed. “It’s just a big deal,” he said. “I gotta think about it first.”

Alicia didn’t respond; she just looked at him hamming it up with their child, and finally she laughed.

They were discharged the next morning. After T.C. dropped his baby off, he took Licia’s car to Tiger’s to check on his weed. He could see once he got inside that the bags were light, but he rooted through them anyway when he reached the mattress, trying to make sense of the deficit. He dialed Tiger up.

“What the fuck, nigga? Where my shit at?”

“Sold, mothafucka! I tried calling you, but you didn’t answer.”

“You know Licia had the baby.”

“I heard, I heard congratulations were due, and I figured you’d be all camped out with her and lil’ Malik, so I took it upon myself to put that lil’ nigga I interviewed to work. He went out on Monday, and by Thursday a quarter of that shit was sold. I told you my marketing campaign was what’s up. I was just on my way back to the house to reup.”

“And give me my money.”

“Right, and give you your money. I mean, I took a cut for myself like we discussed, but 75 percent is for you, nigga, and well earned. You did it.”

“Well, I had help too, bruh,” T.C. had calmed down some, knowing he was about to be paid. Shit, diapers were expensive, and as of this morning they were off Blue Cross’s dollar.

“But you still coulda waited though, bruh,” he added. “It’s my shit. I like to label it, and I knock the prices up for some of the rare mixes,” he added.

“Oh, I just took the liberty of knocking them all up. Sixty bucks an eighth.”

“And people paid that much? Even for the OG?”

“Hell, yeah, I told you, leave the marketing to me. Anyway, you gon’ be there in twenty? I’m on my way. I got some other things I want to discuss with you.”

Tiger was manic when he arrived, scooping up the bags so fast T.C. couldn’t keep track.

“Calm down, mothafucka. What’s gotten into you?”

“Aw, nothing, bruh. I’m just amped, you know. My lil’ nigga said they asking about more, and we gotta take advantage of all this momentum.” He sat down on the edge of the mattress.

“That’s actually what I want to talk with you about,” Tiger went on. “I know you just had the baby and all that, but we got a market, a serious one. I’ma need you to go get some more of them cuttings tonight, start over, maybe double up. Two months from now is too long to have people waiting, T.C. I’m gon’ be done with this batch in a few weeks max, and then how we gon’ look, dry as fuck for the next two months? Nah, I’m thinking we could set it up so we always have some in rotation. Like halfway through the process, start on the next.”