In 2000, it seemed as if all of my spare time was spent either obsessing over Bolo’s short-sighted front office mismanagement, or cleaning up behind some kid-sized mess created by Mundo and his HQ crew. Even Pierre, arguably the least of my problems, was taking up too much space in my psyche. Why on Earth was I concerned about whether or not this twenty-six year old man would ever pull it together and apply to grad school?
I needed a break from the PanStar solar system. There had to be something else to focus on. And right on time, Osvald’s nephew came calling. This time, in person.
One Friday afternoon, I was standing behind the counter of PanStar, working on reconciling monthly accounts. I’d let my regular customers know I’d soon be shutting down all shipping services and wanted to get all outstanding balances cleared up before that time. It was almost a shock to the system when I heard the front door buzzer go off- it had been a while since anyone had stopped by the store unannounced.
“Hopeton, papi, qué tal?” the nephew asked once I unlocked the door to let him in.
“What are you doing in this part of town?” I asked. Crown Heights was a bit out of the nephew’s usual sphere of influence, but not totally out of bounds.
“Ah, some dumb shit,” he replied. “Some little crew of boosters- like post-Lo Life kids, are beefing with heads from my neighborhood, so they asked me to broker a peace treaty.”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Like The Warriors?”
“Sorta,” he laughed. “Can you dig iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit?”
I could not believe how silly it all sounded to me. I was most definitely getting old.
“But seriously,” the nephew said. “Is there somewhere we could go that’s less exposed?”
I ushered him into the PanStar back room and handed him a Heineken.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked.
The nephew dug into his backpack, pulled out a thick knot of crisp hundred-dollar bills and tossed it to me.
“It’s fifteen grand,” he told me. “Count it.”
I sat down at my desk and counted out the money. Fifteen thousand dollars.
“So, that gets us down to a hundred and fifteen that I owe you,” he said.
“Yeah, man,” I agreed. “You’re chipping away at it. And your uncle’s keeping up with rent, so it’s all good.”
I watched the nephew take a sip of beer.
“Any other reason you wanted to stop by today?” I asked. “Anything else on your mind?”
“Nope, that’s it,” he replied. “Just wanted to give you a chunk of money while I had it. I’m working on a few things, so hopefully you’ll be seeing more of that sooner than later.”
The nephew chugged the rest of his beer and placed the empty bottle on my coffee table.
“A’ight, I gotta bounce,” he said. “I’mma tell Osvald to fill you in on the July Fourth plans once he’s got them made. This year I told him he’s gotta keep the shop closed.”
“Let him know I’m going to stop by this Saturday,” I replied. “I need to clean myself up.”
The nephew said goodbye and hit the streets.
I made sure to get back to Lincoln Road early that evening. Hetty had called during her lunch hour to let me know she was planning on bringing home some snapper from Chinatown and she wanted me to grill it. She’d gotten a secretary job at an insurance company with an office right off of Wall Street, and was starting to make noises about getting an apartment for herself and Yasmin, so I wanted to make the most of our time under the same roof while we had it.
And Yasmin was getting too busy to spend much time around me anyway- she’d recently begun summer classes at Brooklyn College, in advance of becoming a full-time student there in the Fall.
Everything was falling into place for my family. I wanted nothing but happiness and prosperity for us all.
