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Roaming Boys
A couple of the Dumaine boys knocked on my door at Rocheblave yesterday and when I opened it up there they were at the bottom of the temporary steps, smiling, and, being in the neighborhood thought they would stop by. I let them tour the house such at it is while I sat on the steps watching the boy in the wheelchair and his girlfriend making themselves perfectly at home underneath the overhang of the sculptors residence across the street.
When they came out I tried to figure if they wanted something from the tired in a non-giving mood me or if in fact they just came by to say "hi." If the latter then they would be the first of their type. After a few minutes of all us sitting, swatting and killing the weaker and slower of the mosquitoes, and fidgeting because two of us three are not overly gifted with the gab, we all came to realize not a one of us was going to take charge so all of us would have to make some effort towards a comfortable co-existence.
The one boy said, "it sure is (pause) quiet over here." That's relative to the Dumaine neighborhood which is near the corner of a major thoroughfare and is a block with a history which includes all the best excitement that history has to offer. That is if you find gunfire, drug dealing, police action, and constant motion exciting. A more to the point child would have said, "boring" instead of "quiet."
"I kind of like it like this," I said. In the heart of New Orleans my house is the only residence in my block on my side of the street.
The two boys then talked about the iguanas they had seen at the pet store which is what put them in my neighborhood, and that made me think about the fact that both of them have been known to torture, I mean, play with the prolific indigenous chameleon, so I said "have you seen Dr. Dolittle?" which is a thing (movies) that I used to take them to but don't anymore. "There's a talking chameleon in the movie but it's not like these here it's...," and then the both of them, speaking alternately, told me exactly what the mexican chameleon looked like and most of its pertinent speaking parts for although they have not seen the movie they have however seen over and over the trailers on TV. They have retained more about the movie than I have and tell me things I have forgotten, even though it was just a few days ago I saw the full length of it myself.
The one boy, the talkative one, exclaimed how well we seemed to be doing. "Aren't we having a good conversation? This is a really good conversation." Then we all shifted our attention to how the lady sculptor, who had now arrived in her truck, would handle the loiterers. It was the type of voyeurism that was/is so popular on Dumaine, and is a thing that is useful when trying to forget about yourself. Best to say the confrontation lacked any first rate drama as the boy in the wheelchair, and his girlfriend, did not retreat, and there was no yelling, or police, or threatening behavior of any kind. The Dumaine boys have been raised on better, for example, last month there was this, as told to me by M, to whom I was giving a ride home from work today as my job this week is close to hers and her car is in the shop:
"I saw Y the other day," M said.
"Yeah, where?" I said.
"On Dumaine," she said.
Y is the very beginning of all this.
"She was living with her aunt over on the other side of Broad but got thrown out for drugs."
Y's persisent weakness.
"N's still in," M said.
"Oh yeah, I didn't know." I thought she had been out for a good while this time. "When did that happen."
"About a month ago. She got arrested on The Porch."
"Really," I said. This was news to me. I'm out of the loop. "Warrant?"
"More or less, " M said. "She just quit going to her probation officer."
"Yeah," I said. "Did the boy see it."
"G? No. He wasn't around. The cops put a gun to EG's head though."
"What?" EG is a good boy, a college boy, he can get out if he wants to.
"EG and some of the other boys were in front of the house playing basketball and the cops show up, whether specifically for N on a tip or just a random sweep I don't know, but EG turned around to a gun in his face, and then they let him be, and hassled some of the others. J was there. (and some of his boys). And they found a crack pipe on the porch. I don't know if they can do anything for just that..."
"Yes, they can," I interrupted. "I mean your reputation in the neighborhood will buy you some leeway but, you know, drug paraphanalia, and gangsters, on YOUR property is uh..."
"Yeah, I know, and when I found out I gave J a good shouting, and EG, he wouldn't have said anything about it if P from across the street hadn't told me. When I confronted EG (who lives in the house), he was like, 'oh yeah, I just forgot,' and proceeded to tell me in great detail about having a gun in his face but not like it bothered him, just like it was the weather we were talking about..."
And then the boys arose from my steps and the one boy said, "and now we will be leaving,"
"Well, good seeing you, and, thanks for coming by," I said, and as I was closing the door I heard the one boy say, "that's a sharp bathroom you have," and, "that was a good conversation, wasn't that a good conversation?"