Out The Gutter

***

I sat at the window of the little apartment my mother and I shared in an old building, admiring the Brownsville painting someone had drawn on the wall on the other side of the street.

I loved my world. My quarter.

Brownsville was my home. I'd grown up there. I'd done everything there. It was part of me.

I turned and looked at my mom in the kitchen. A beautiful forty year old afro american lady. I stared at her while she cooked the little we had available.

She looked so depressed at times and it hurt me, because I knew why.

My mother was born from an American father and a Cameroonian mother. She'd grown up in America and as an american citizen.

She grew up and met my father during an organised party by a friend of hers. He was Israelite. They immediately hooked up. They had that immediate spark and fell in love.

Not long after, my father married mom even with the refusal of his own family.

Two years after their marriage, they had me.

All was fine until a few months after my birth, my father died in a car accident, leaving us to ourselves.

My father's family seized everything and they all returned to Israel. Leaving us helpless.

To this day, I could say my mother was still in great sadness which she tried to hide from me.

But I could see it. And I promised to make my mother happy again. I was going to get her out of poverty and misery.

"Pssst! Pssst! Harl!" I heard a loud whisper from out the window. I looked down and there stood one of my closest friends, Yasmin. I smiled at her.

"Watchu doing? Get your ass down here!" she smiled.

"Coming!"

I got up from the window and ran to my little room to change. I wore my old dirty converses, a white T-shirt and another shirt around my waist. Then I tied my hair up into a sided ponytail and ran out of my room.

"Going out with Yasmin?" my mom asked, smiling.

"Yes, ma. I'm gonna bring back some change if luck's on my side."

"Harlem don't do anything stupid."

"I won't."

I kissed her cheek and left the apartment.

*

I met Yasmin downstairs. She'd tied her hair into a bun and wore a grey pullover, jeans and converses as old as mine.

"So where're we going?" she asked me.

"Not too far. Let's take a stroll around. We might fall on someone not so lucky."

"How about Manhattan instead?"

"You got money?"

"Nope. But I know how we'll get there."

-

Yasmin and I strolled through the hood and into town where we took the subway discretely. And soon enough, we were in one of Manhattan's quarters.

I leaned against a wall in the streets while Yasmin and I, silently observed those who passed by.



We waited patiently until we both spotted a round man of about fifty years old. He had a briefcase in his hand and was leaving an office building. Perfect.

"Check out the fat man." Yasmin said.

"He's good."

"Let's go get him."

We casually crossed the street and walked up to the man.

"Good afternoon, sir." we both greeted.

"Yes, good afternoon." I stood a little behind him while Yasmin was in front of him.

"Sir, please we're lost." she lied.

"Really? Where do you stay?"

"Brooklyn. Don't really know how we ended up in Manhattan and..."

While she spoke, getting all his attention, I slowly and discretely stretched out a hand and removed his wallet from his pocket. He didn't feel a thing!

While Yasmin spoke to him, I looked at her and winked.