Tyler Johnson Was Here(19)

We gotta keep looking for Tyler, I think to myself. Waiting isn’t doing anything for anyone.

I feel beat-up, bruised, and broken down inside. And not even my music or rewatching the Tupac episode of A Different World could help me now. They’re like Band-Aids that have been soaked too much to actually do anything anymore.

Suddenly, my phone blasts a different ringtone. Anonymous caller. “Someone’s calling,” I yell in a high voice, inching off the bed quickly, like a fish trying to flop back into water from the shore. My heart flutters. It could be Tyler.

“What?” Ivy says.

“Who is it?” G-mo asks.

I put the phone on speaker and answer.

“Hello?” My voice is scratchy and rough.

There’s a brief cough and then the voice speaks. “Aye-yo! Marv-Marv. It’s your boy, Johntae.” His voice sounds all willful and content, like he’s happy to be where he is.

“Johntae?” My chest feels heavier.

“Homie! How you feeling? How you feeling?!”

“Terrible,” I mutter. “I’m in a very dark place right now.”

“Well, turn on the light.”

“Johntae, I’m not in the mood for jokes, and I’m not even sure why you are. You’re in fucking jail.”

“Chill out, fam. What’s gotten into your Wheaties this morning? When you’ve got a heart of darkness like me, jail isn’t the worst place to be. I think jail is a lot nicer than you prolly think. A lot easier than being out there, trying to survive on the streets.”

“You sound insane,” I tell him.

“You’re just as sane or insane as I am, fam.”

“No. No. No, that’s not fucking relevant,” I say, shaking my head. “Tyler is missing.” I clench my eyes.

“Missing?” His voice is full yet emotionless. “I don’t know nothing about that. I was calling to see if Tyler left you the cornflakes for me? That’s all I’m talking about, you dig?”

“What the hell are you talking about? Tyler is missing. I repeat, Tyler is missing. And I believe you had something to do with it. Where is he?”

Johntae laughs his laugh. “I thought you were fucking with me? Oh. God. That’s not good. You serious right now, thug?”

“I solemnly swear. He’s legit gone.” I grind my teeth. “We just went back to the old Pic-A-Rag market. It’s all boarded up and empty.”

“Maybe someone’s already given him the easy way out.”

“The easy way out?” I ask.

“A bullet to the head,” Johntae says, hurt and actual emotion finally evident in his voice for the first time.

The possibility hits me. My heart feels like it’s pounding its way right out of me.

NO. NO. NO.

WHAT. THE. FOR REAL. FUCK.

THAT CAN’T BE REAL. THAT CAN’T HAPPEN.

My thoughts grab me by the neck and keep me in a chokehold, and I can’t breathe, my chest tightening. I go completely silent, grab the phone tighter, hear the metal case make a crackling sound.

And I guess he hears my sniffling as I wipe the wetness from my eyes, because he goes, “Aye, are you fucking crying right now? Man, that shit ain’t gon’ do nothing right now! And if you looking for comfort, I ain’t got none to give.”

I don’t say anything back. I can’t say anything, like it’s physically impossible to command words to come out of my mouth.

“Listen. I called you, Marv, because I know you’ll listen and understand and, apparently now, will do whatever is necessary to get your brother back.”

“Yeah?”

“I need your help,” Johntae says slowly. “I’ve got a thousand-dollar bail. If you can get me out of here, I can help you get Tyler back.”

I say, “Deal,” without hesitation. I barely have a buck to my name, but I don’t care. I’ll do anything to have my brother back.

“Go to one-oh-eight Sycamore Lane and talk to my girl. Her name’s Faith. She’ll help you with bail money.”

When I click off from Johntae, I feel like I’m split into bits. Twins are like synonyms that know each other through and through, like the moon complements the stars through a life sentence, like a set of infinite entities who’ve seen the world together, experienced its pain and oppression, but I can’t help but feel, in this moment, like my world is ending over and over again, like time moves backward, like the world flashes between black and white and grainy and clear.

I can’t believe Tyler chose to hang out with Johntae and his crew and got onto this path. Mama used to say that a strong man isn’t the same as a good one. That a good man is hard to find because the strong ones usually turn bad. She said, “Good ones are good because they set their own paths and never follow anyone else.” I wonder where Tyler fits in on her “good man” scale.

I pause a while longer, thinking about the times I saw Tyler with Johntae, and how I told myself what I wanted to hear, focusing my attention on other things—selfish things. Maybe I’m the reason Tyler is missing. Maybe I deserve this—all my worries scarring me.

The air is stale. Ivy’s and G-mo’s eyes meet mine.

“I know exactly where Sycamore is,” Ivy says.

The three of us storm up and head out.