Tyler Johnson Was Here(60)

It still takes effort to get up out of bed.

Some days, when I do, I just stare at the blackness I see in the mirror hanging on my closet door. I tell myself that I love this skin, that I’ve always loved my blackness, that if the world doesn’t love me, I will love myself for the both of us. After reminding myself that I matter, that I always mattered, that Tyler mattered and still does, I make a promise to myself. I promise that I’ll never be silent about things that matter, that I’ll keep on saying his name for the rest of my days.

Blasting “I Got 5 On It” by Luniz on my phone and eating an Oatmeal Creme Pie, I walk outside to check the mail. Today’s a nice day, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to be miserably rainy at all, which goes against everything my weather app promised.

One whiff of the air and I can tell somebody’s having a cookout somewhere nearby. I don’t know exactly where it’s coming from, but it smells good as hell. I can even hear the faint bass of music in the distance over my own.

I pull three envelopes from the mailbox. One of them is addressed to me. It’s from Howard. A gasp slips out of me, and I damn near do the Dougie in the middle of the street. I’m not going to open it right now. I’m going to go inside first and show Mama.

I’m cat daddying all the way up the driveway.

“Mama!” I shout, bursting through the door.

The thump of my heart gets even louder when I set foot in the living room, where she’s cleaning up—vacuum going, bleach water sitting in a bucket, gospel music blaring and everything.

“Look, look, look!” I shout to her, waving the envelope in her face.

Her eyes get wide. She takes off her yellow cleaning gloves and hugs me. “Open it, open it,” she says, damn near jumping up and down for me.

I don’t even care about being all neat. I rip the shit out of the envelope and pull out a letter. At the top it says: CONGRATULATIONS! ADMITTED! And I don’t even catch myself crying until Mama’s wiping my tears for me.

She reads the letter out loud, then says, “I’m so proud of you.” She steps back and just smiles at me, like she’s finally scraped up a little happiness.

I hug her again and everything feels perfect.





Wednesday comes, and I’m in the passenger seat in the car with Mama, and we’re spending all of today together at her request. She’s driving us to some burger place she found by her job. I stare out the window at the rapidly passing scenery, jamming to an oldie, “Doo Wop (That Thing)” by Lauryn Hill, on the radio. I guess all of this is to ease our nerves about the grand jury trial happening in a matter of days. Just days now. Man, it’s so close. I try not to think about the trial, because I know that in the end, it doesn’t matter what the jury decides. Tyler’s life still mattered, even if they can’t see it for themselves.

When we pull up to a little burger shack with an orange sign in front of the door that says IN-N-OUT BURGER, Mama cuts the engine, and the music cuts off right at the chorus, leaving an awkward silence.

Inside the burger joint, the air smells like onions, and it’s fairly empty, so all the staff members are looking at us. Mama orders a plain cheeseburger, and I get the double-double.

We both eat slowly once we choose a table. I can tell she wants to talk by how she watches me take every bite. That’s a thing about her I’ve picked up over the years.

“How’s your food?” I ask.

“Pretty good,” she says, dipping fries in ketchup.

“Yeah.” I nod, going in for my fries now.

There’s a beat before she clears her throat. She pushes a piece of hair away from her face and pins it back into her short ponytail. “I’ve been thinking about scattering Tyler’s ashes,” she says, looking down at her food. “Nicola said it’s a good thing, too.”

What. The. Hell?

Faintly, very faintly, I let out a breath. I don’t know whether to be mad or not, but I’m mad and sad and hurt all at once. All I say back is “Why?”

It looks like she wants to scream or cry or both. “I just thought maybe it would be good for us.”

“Us?” I question.

“You and me. Tyler, too,” she responds. “I don’t think it’s right for me to be holding on to him forever, baby.” She wipes her mouth with a napkin. “I’ve been thinking about some good places to do it at. Like maybe a river or ocean or something. Somewhere that it feels right.”

I just nod and finish up my food, trying to process everything. I think about it on the way back home, think about it all night. When I go to sleep, I end up dreaming about it, too.





? 34 ?


Marvin. Marvin!” Mama’s standing over me, trying to wake me up. My eyelids are low, but I blink them to focus. “It’s time to get up, baby. We got somewhere to be.” It’s Saturday and Mama’s talking about how she found the perfect place to scatter Tyler’s ashes.

I get out of bed, go pee, brush my teeth, and then change into some clean clothes—nothing too fancy. Something comfortable. It’s going to be pretty hot today, so I choose some shorts and a shirt.

In the kitchen, Mama is waiting on me while eating eggs. There’s a plate across from her with just toast with grape jelly, no eggs. She knows how much I hate them. I sit down and she starts going on and on about the Sterling Point Estuary, and how she thinks it’s the most peaceful place in all of Alabama to put him, about how Auntie Nicola thinks so, too.