Chapter 10: The World Unmasked
Quincy continued walking, trying not to pay any attention to Shaquana. He found himself walking through the hallway bathroom for blind people. As Shaquana caught up to him she blurted out, “God I wish people would stop pissing in this hallway!”
“Well, maybe your magical little pills will help them see!” Quincy retorted without attempting to hide his contempt.
“What da hell you talking bout?”
“I said, maybe your magic pills will help the blind see so they will realize that this is not a toilet. Oh that’s right, your pills don’t do that, do they?”
Shaquana began laughing so hard that she didn’t even bother to try and pretend that she was still angry. She laughed so intensely that tears poured down her cheeks and from time to time she chocked.
“What is so funny. Last time I checked losing one’s eyesight is not something that brings a little cheer to my heart. By God, if they’d just put up a Braille sign notifying the poor sightless souls that this is not a bathroom I’m sure they would stop.” Hoping this would make Shaquana feel guilty enough that she would order a cease and desist on the laughter, Quincy was sadly disappointed. Shaquana laughed so hard she had to fight through her cackles to breathe, and she had to hold her sides to keep herself from flooding her pants. She was certain that she had never met such an optimist, someone so truly sure that it was a great world that he could create such an explanation for the urine on the floor and walls of the subway corridor.
“You really think that there are blind people who mistake this for a bathroom?”
“Are you trying to tell me that it’s not? Why else would this smell like urine? Surely people don’t just decide to go to the bathroom in a hallway that others must use?”
“Quincy, you have so much to learn. It’s much more likely that some crack head or a drunken bum took a leak here. In fact, you can safely assume that blind people are just as disgusted as we are that anyone would use this hallway as a bathroom.”
“Why? Why would anyone be so messed up, so rude as to pee in a public hallway? Have they no decency, no respect?”
“They probably have nothing, no home, no stuff, no pride, no respect. This will come as a shock to you, but there is a lot of people in this city who spend most of their time trying ta figure out how to get their next fix. They lives is empty of concern for others, and they care very lil’ for theyselves. In a perfect world, they’d get help and get off the streets and off the drugs, but this world sucks and life is messed up. And the best way to deal with life is to hide from it. At least then it can’t hurt you.”
“You mean, at least then you don’t realize that it hurts you. These people destroy themselves rather than allowing the world to destroy them. I guess at least then they have control over one thing, their own downfall.” Quincy felt his eyes come a little more and more into focus.
“You'ze probably right, and I guess I am part of the problem.” Shaquana had fully confronted that she may not be the executioner, but she had definitely made sure the electric chair was wired properly and the power was ready to flow.
“Then why don’t you stop dealing drugs? Begin the process of fixing this world by removing a piece of the problem.” Quincy hoped in his heart of hearts that she would give up her life of dealing. But this day had braced him for the reality that this isn’t a perfect world.
“I wish I could, but I don’t be having any choice. I has to makes a living. I gots a son that is almost two, and I can't be affording ta take care of em if I stop. Plus, Raymon wouldn’t be happy if I tell him I ain’t sellin no more.”
An eerie feeling came over Quincy. His father’s name was Raymon. In his head images of the weird tasting sugar flashed through his mind. And the several times that the police officers had come over to look through his house came to his thoughts. Maybe they were a special branch of the police that came to set mouse traps as his father had told him. Maybe his father was a drug supplier. Maybe Shaquana’s supplier was his father.
“What does Raymon look like?” Quincy asked.
“Why? You planning to turn him in? You’ll end up getting me killed. Raymon wouldn’t think twice about having me killed. My dad learned that the hard way when he tried to get me out.”
“I just need to know, I promise I won’t tell a soul.” Quincy appeared far too genuine for Shaquana to doubt him.
“He’s a few inches shy of six foot, dark black hair, he has a long scar on the tip of his nose that almost looks like he has two equal halves of his nose.”
Check, check and check. Feeling almost certain, Quincy fought his desire to deny the apparent truth. So, he blurted out “that’s my dad.”
Quincy continued, “Why did my mother tell me that the world was such a wonderful place? Why didn’t she tell me that my father was a drug supplier, or that people are completely messed up? Did it do me any good to think that everything wrong with the world had a positive explanation? Did she think she could keep me locked in an apartment my whole life and hide me from the brutal reality? Why didn’t she prepare me for the truth that the world is such an awful place?”
“Maybe she couldn’t afford to move out of the city, but she couldn’t bear to let her son grow up in such a hell hole. And so she did the best she could to create a perfect world for you to live in.”
Quincy felt an intense hatred for his parents burning in his heart. He despised them for bringing him into this world. No decent human would have brought a child in to a world such as this. He also found himself hating the city of Philadelphia. What a god-forsaken place. He was sure the condoms on the sidewalks were not there to promote safer sex after all, they were probably there because the people of this city were disgusting assholes who didn’t have the decency to find a trash can after they finished with the prostitute. And he wanted to collect all the trash and litter on the streets and find the family he had seen dropping the chip bags and pour it into their house. And as for the people not smiling on the subway and the guy he had purchased the drink from earlier that day, there was no justification, there was no secret game or reason for their behavior. He accepted the fact that the people of Philadelphia were just rude, inconsiderate, devoid of respect, mean spirited, self-centered, worthless beings that existed solely to destroy what little hope that existed that the world could be a decent place. Point for the bastards, they had succeeded. If a giant bucket of gasoline were to be spilled on and coat the city of Philadelphia, Quincy was sure he’d only have one question. Who’s got the match?
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