The Only Exception Even when Griff was his happiest, laughing and playing the dozens on the corner with the other knuckleheads in the neighborhood, there was a sadness, thinly veiled over his big brown eyes. Likely from his momma leaving him when he was only a baby. Something about that wasn’t natural. At least that’s what the old women on the block would say when Griff walked by their porches hand in hand with his dad Malcolm. My own momma said something must have really been eating her up inside for her to leave her two boys like that. Malcolm did his best but all he knew was the streets. He loved his boys but didn’t seem to know how to provide for them in a legal way. But he did provide for them. More so than my momma and daddy who did things in a so-called righteous way. There was nothing Griff and Vince wanted for except the affection of a mother. And what we lacked in money, we made up for in love. That’s how Griff ended up at my place all the time. My daddy worked shift work at a plumbing company and my mom was an English teacher but took a leave of absence because it was more cost-effective to stay at home with my sister Kim and me than to pay for daycare. We grew up on the same block since we were babies, but it wasn’t until about sixth grade when we had the same homeroom teacher that me and the sad-eyed boy connected in a real way. My dad would chat about ominous things with his dad Malcolm from time to time over the years; the latest sports game or the troubled teens running around smashing in windows but not much of great significance. Griff and I would just stand by their sides, tugging and hoping that they would stop talking so we could go about our way. Then during line up one morning to go to homeroom Rhonda Tulley decided that I was her arch-nemesis and tried to pound me into the concrete on the playground, Griff came to my rescue. Didn’t say much except, “Rhonda, quit it.” It’s like those eyes had a power over Rhonda who lowered her fist and instead of bashing my face in, kicked my book bag into the gravel underneath the swings. I got up slowly and he walked over to retrieve my checkered Jansport book bag. When I asked why he helped me, his response was “My dad says we look out for our block.” It would be the first of many lessons from the street that Griff regurgitated from Malcolm, but they were honestly rooted in loyalty and respect. The game had rules it seemed. That summer, Griff taught me how to fight. Said I was too pretty and our neighborhood too gritty for me to be “getting my ass kicked all the time,” his words not mine. Rhonda was not the first and definitely wouldn’t be the last to threaten me for no apparent reason. He had a manliness about him even though we were in middle school. Maybe it came with living in a house with all men. I’d imagined Vince making him tough as he was four years our senior. We would go down to the gym on Lehigh where his dad and brother boxed and he would give me lessons ignoring the stares from the other men there. He’d seemingly broke some kind of rule by bringing a girl, but he didn’t care. That was Griff. By high school, we were pretty much inseparable. Griff would pick me up in the mornings in the Galant that his dad bought him when he turned sixteen. He would drive us to the mall where we both had after school jobs, him at Footlocker, me at Auntie Annie’s. We were both saving up for college. He was thinking about FAMU, I was hoping to get into Penn. He’d drive me and momma around on weekends when daddy picked up extra shifts. We’d run from store to store and Griff didn’t seem to mind the company. By then Vince was following in Malcolm’s footsteps and it felt like Griff needed an escape. A way not to fall victim to the family business. I was seventeen when I watched the cops knock on Griff’s door. The flashing lights in the middle of our one-way street blocked traffic and a small crowd of spectators was gathering. Whispers of “I knew it was only a matter of time,” traveled through the crowd. Once the door creaked open, the cops pushed whoever was behind it inside and multiple cops ran in after with their guns drawn. I hoped Griff wasn’t inside to see this happen to his father. But twenty minutes later, I saw him, caught a glimpse of his sad eyes, one of them blacked and multiple bruises on his red skin that always seemed like it was made from clay. He was in handcuffs walking out of his olive-colored door with Malcolm walking quickly behind him cussing and fussing at the cops as they ignored him. “Why the fuck would you put your hands on my son? You got the wrong one. My son ain’t did shit to no one!” After they threatened to take his “black ass in too,” their words, not mine, Malcolm calmed himself. My momma held me back as I tried to reach Griff. I tried to protect him like he did for me that day in sixth grade and honestly so many times after that. From fights to breakups with dumb teenage boys trying to take advantage, Griff was always there for me. And the one time he needed me, I was powerless. I felt the salty tears running down my face as Griff mouthed, “it’s okay,” before they pushed his head into the backseat of the police cruiser and drove away with Malcolm in his Q45 Infiniti following close behind them. Vince was a part of a deal gone bad on the other side of town that fateful night when we were seventeen and a witness couldn’t seem to tell him and Vince apart. Griff was still a minor, he ended up taking the wrap for it so that he wouldn’t serve as much time as Vince. A sick and twisted plan, but he, Vince, and Malcolm all agreed before I could tell him that was the dumbest thing that he could have done with his life. He mortgaged his future to a life that he was never a part of. I was twenty-five having lunch with my girls when I couldn’t believe I was staring back into those sad eyes that had undoubtedly seen much more trouble than a negligent mother at that point. My friends looked on in disbelief from our sidewalk table at Rouge in Rittenhouse as Griff pulled me into his now strong, manly arms. He held onto me tight and then pushed me back to look at me. The years had hardened him, but he was still Griff. He would always be Griff with red skin that looked like it was made of clay. “I saved every letter,” he said to me as he looked over to my bougie ass friends who in no way showed discretion in trying to figure out who this miscreant was that seemed so familiar to me. I gave them a look that said I was okay as I turned my attention back to Griff. His clothes hung a little loosely and felt a bit outdated in comparison to today’s style. Seemingly fresh out, I felt like it would only be a matter of time until he found his stride again. He was always fly. Through the grey cloud that felt like it was hovering over him, I could still see what I’d seen all those years ago. Someone kind, someone yearning for love, someone I loved. I couldn’t bring myself to go to visit him in prison all those years, but I wrote to him. I wrote letters every month for the last eight years. Through college, serious boyfriends, and transitions from internships to full-time positions, Griff was always a part of the old neighborhood that I could never let go. Nothing else could be traced back to Molehill Street except my devotion to him. Not the way I talked or the way I wore my hair. Not my parents who since moved to Delaware. He was the only exception. The Truth Remains, She’s Gone Will woke up in the morning to turn off the alarm and noticed the engagement ring on his pinky finger. Reaching out to the other side of the bed, Samantha was gone. The sun was creeping through the windows ever so slightly through the darkness of the fall morning. He sat up and looked around to ensure that she was nowhere to be found and not playing some type of sick joke on him. Was he wrong to think that somehow the ring would patch up the leaky holes of their relationship? That was the prize, right? What women wanted men to do? To tell them that it was them they wanted to spend their life with, to make honest women out of them? Sam left all these hints before she flew home to Atlanta over the summer. When she came back though, things were different.