"When You Can't Just Walk Away" V
by Myra Love
  Article # 459 Article Type: Weekly Serial

I didn’t expect to feel so good after my first tutoring session. As I stood by the side of the road, thumb out, I wished I had someone to tell. After about twenty minutes, a car pulled over, and a brown-skinned guy in his twenties stuck his head out the window. I walked over. He wanted get on the highway.
“ Give me a lift into town and I’ll direct you.”
He looked dubious. “Can’t you just tell me?” He had a slight accent but wasn’t hard to understand.
“ I could, but I won’t,” I replied. “I need a lift and you need information, so why not make a fair trade?”
“ I don’t pick up hitchhikers,” he said. “Too risky.”
“ Look, I messed up my ankle and foot a little while back. I’m helpless as a little baby.”
“ That’s what you say,” he replied gloomily. “A limp is easy to fake.”
I shrugged. “Suit yourself,” I said and started hobbling back to my spot.
“ Okay, okay, get in,” he said, relenting.
Once I gave him directions, he started to talk. He was a graduate student in economics at the University of Kansas and was on his way back to school after a long weekend visit with his girlfriend.
“ You’re a student?” I asked. “Don’t you have class on Monday?”
He smirked. “I have class only on Tuesday and Thursday. I lead discussion sections on Wednesday and Thursday.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I didn’t want to seem stupid, so I didn’t ask.
“ And you?” he asked, giving me a sidelong glance. “What do you do out here in the boonies?”
“ I have a tutoring job,” I replied. “Math. I’m helping a kid who just wasn’t getting it.” I yawned. “But she seems to be getting it now.”
“ That’s nice of you,” he said. “Getting paid?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I’m not that nice.”
He laughed. “You can make pretty good money tutoring, you know. I paid part of my tuition through all four years of undergrad school that way.”
“ What did you tutor?”
He smiled. “Math. I tutored high school kids who just weren’t getting it.”
I nodded. “Well, that was nice of you,” I said.
He laughed again. “Yeah, well, I’m not that nice either. I made twenty bucks a session and tutored ten kids twice a week. Figure it out.”
I shrugged. “Four hundred dollars a week isn’t bad. I’m just getting started,” I told him. “There’s your turn onto the on-ramp, just up ahead. You can let me out here.”
“ Thanks,” he said. “Good luck with your tutoring.”
I just waved. Telling him about tutoring Susie had not been very satisfying. I sighed and limped slowly home.

My dad was out at his church, a small pre-fab building about half a mile from home. Mom was washing dishes. She looked tired, as usual. “You’re late,” she said, without sounding as if she cared.
I shrugged.
“ There’s some chicken left if you’re hungry.”
“ Of course I’m hungry,” I replied, as I opened the fridge.
“ You didn’t eat anything with those bums?” she asked.
She had seen me with the Razors and didn’t like the looks of them. That didn’t bother me. She wasn’t supposed to like the looks of them.
“ Haven’t seen them all day,” I said, pulling four slices of bread from the plastic wrapper.
“ If you weren’t with them, where were you? With a girl?” she wiped the stove, mindlessly.
I laughed. I had been with a girl, but not in the way she had in mind. “I was tutoring,” I said, wondering if she’d believe me.
“Umm-hmmm,” she said listlessly. “So don’t tell me. See if I care when you get slapped with a paternity suit!”
I set my sandwich on a plate. “I really was tutoring. Ask Mrs. Ellis or Miss Carswell.”
“ Anita Carswell?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Don’t mention her to your father. He’ll have a fit.”
“ I won’t say anything if you don’t.”
She produced a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan. “I won’t say a word. He’d just blame it on me.”
My mother had learned her lesson the hard way.
After I’d eaten, I washed my dishes and scrubbed the sink. I didn’t mind cleaning up in the kitchen, but when Dad was home, he objected, calling it unmanly. I told my mother I was going out.
“ Don’t be too late,” she said. “Your father will be home around ten and you know how he gets.”
I nodded and waved as I went out the door. I hadn’t seen the Razors yet, but I was hoping they’d be at the deli, so I limped in that direction. When I got there, I was disappointed. At first Nora Nowhere ignored me, but eventually she came over and said the guys had been in earlier.
“ Did they happen to say where they were going?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t know and I don’t care. I wish you’d all stay away from here. You lower the tone of the restaurant.”
Sean would have had a stinging reply, but I just waved.
There was one more place to check for the Razors, but I was hesitant. A convenience store had opened up about a year and a half earlier. My mom often sent me there to pick up eggs, milk, or ice cream. The night clerk in the store was a young guy named Yusuf, originally from Lebanon. He was friendly in a non-intrusive way. I met Yusuf right after my dad got his calling from the Lord. Before he got the church building Dad preached to anyone who would listen. The more he preached, the more my friends avoided me. For a while, Yusuf was the person I talked to most. Then I started high school and hooked up with the Razors. None of them associated me with my dad.
About a month after I’d started to hang with the Razors, Fogger met us one evening at the deli and told us that we were about to have some fun. He led us to the convenience store and tried to buy a pack of smokes. Yusuf wouldn’t sell them to him because he was underage. So Fogger turned to us and asked if we didn’t notice a marked resemblance between Yusuf and Osama Bin Laden. I just snorted when he asked, but the other guys all agreed with him. From then on he addressed Yusuf as Osama. That first night I told him to quit it, but he and the others got on me, asking me if I didn’t know better than to pal around with a terrorist. Their riding me felt bad, but I was almost grateful for it because it distracted them from Yusuf.
The next day I came in alone and for the first time Yusuf and I didn’t have much of a conversation. I just bought milk and went home.
That evening Fogger led us back to the store. I stood before the open door and told the Razors I wasn’t going in. Fogger said, “It’s that towel-head or us, Buzz baby. You have to choose.” I remember thinking that I’d just walk one step into the store and keep out of everyone’s way, but as soon as I took that one step, Sean pushed me right up to the counter.
“ Hey, Osama,” Fogger called out, putting his arm across my shoulders. “Buzz here wants to know why you don’t go back where you came from.”
I flinched but didn’t pull away and walk out of the store. Yusuf looked at me intently for a minute, then said, “You could do better.”
Jeremy yelled from the frozen foods case, “Hey, Osama, how much is this ice cream?” He pulled the lid off and held it up.
“ The price is posted on the shelf,” Yusuf replied calmly. “Please don’t open the container.”
“ Just checking to make sure it’s not a bomb,” Jeremy replied, putting the lid back on the carton and tossing it back on the shelf. “Shouldn’t a cashier know all the prices?”
“ He’s just using this job as a front until he can get those flying lessons, right, Osama?” Fogger called out.
Yusuf glared at all of us. “Please leave and don’t come back,” he said sternly, “or I will call the police.”
“ Oh, I’m so scared,” Fogger squeaked, throwing up his hands in mock terror. “Let’s go, guys!”
We followed him out of the store. I felt sick to my stomach, but I didn’t say anything.
The Razors bothered Yusuf periodically. I didn’t take part, but I didn’t do anything to stop them. I didn’t think there was anything I could do.
The evening after my first tutoring session with Susie was the first time I went to the store in almost a month. I didn’t go all the way in, just stuck my nose in far enough to see that the Razors weren’t there. Yusuf saw me. We made eye contact for a few seconds, but neither of us said a word.


 Back to List | First | Previous | Next | Last