nikki

I first met Nikki playing softball. We were around 12. I was pitching, and she was up to bat. She rocked back and forth on her heels and held the bat casually, grinning all the while. Right before I threw her the first pitch, Nikki grinned devilishly and pointed her bat directly at me. I balked for a moment, intimidated by the gesture. The ball left my hand, connected with her bat and came whizzing right back at me, catching me in the foot at full speed. The pain was instant. I hopped over to the ball and threw it hard to first base, but Nikki had already rounded first and was headed to second. My team threw the ball wildly around the infield, trying to stop her at any base, but it was futile. Nikki ran like lightning, never pausing for an instant. In a matter of seconds she was crossing home plate again, grinning all the while. She was the home run queen.

Nikki lived with her elderly grandmother in the projects. No one knew who or where her parents were. Her clothing was shoddy, the soles of her sneakers were worn and her hair was unkempt. Her tongue licked hungrily at her lips around any type of food. She never spoke much, but she didn't miss a thing. Her eyes squinted and sparkled, following every conversation within earshot.
My mother would often buy her food - hot dogs, burgers and ice cream from the concession stand. She would never act as if the food were charity though. My mother would buy too much food, and then ask Nikki to eat it so it wouldn't go to waste.

"Please Nikki. Really. I can't eat another bite. It's a sin to let food go to waste."

Nikki would oblige and gobble the food quickly. She would nod in appreciation, but never said

"Thank you." Sometimes my mother asked Nikki to carry a bag or something, and would then slip her a five dollar bill for her help. I never mentioned it to anyone.

There was something unsettling about Nikki. She looked at me in a way that made me cross my arms over my developing chest. Her eyes pierced through my clothing, and her hands hesitated on my backside when she slapped me after a game. She looked at me the way some of the creepy male umpires stared at the players.

Some of the girls volunteered at the concession stand to raise money for softball. I worked there often with my mother and her friend Grace, who ran the league. One day I was manning the stand by myself, serving coffee and grilling hot dogs. Nikki approached and leaned on the counter. She watched as I served customers and deposited money in the cash register. Once all of the customers had been served, Nikki leapt in through the open window and grabbed a fistful of my hair.

"Owww! Leggo Nikki!" I screamed, trying to pry her hand open.

"Just gimme the money in the register." She held tightly to my hair.

"Yeah right," I laughed, "Come on, get offa me!"

"I'm not playin with you. Gimme the money." Nikki's eyes were wide and her jaw was set. Her grip was firm and she twisted my head back. I realized Nikki was serious and fought in earnest to free myself. I slapped and clawed at her, but she pulled out of my reach, never letting go of my hair. With her free hand, she punched at the cash register, trying to open it.

"What are you doing? Get offa her!" Coach Paul approached behind me and rushed over to us.

Nikki's sly grin returned, but she still refused to loosen her grip. Coach Paul picked up a bottle of Windex and maced Nikki in the face with it. She pulled away from me, covering her face.

"Oh shit yo. Why you do that?" she barked.

"Come on Nikki. Get outta here before I call the cops." Coach Paul stood armed with the Windex pointed like a pistol at Nikki. She chuckled, winked at me and sauntered off.

"You all right"? Coach Paul asked.

I nodded, rubbing the fresh bald patch in the back of my head.

"What the hell happened here?" he asked.

"Nothin." I shrugged. "Just a fight."

I don't know why I didn't tell Coach Paul, but I felt the need to protect Nikki. When I told my mom what had happened, her response was not what I had expected.

"Poor Nikki," she said.

"Poor Nikki?" I was astonished. "I'm the one with a chunk of hair missing."

"Oh, she didn't mean it. Besides, Nikki doesn't know any better. She's had a hard life. She has no one to teach her the difference between right and wrong. Just forgive and forget".

I may have forgiven Nikki, but I never forgot the ferocious look in her eyes as she was demanding the money. I tried never to be alone with her after that.

At the end of the season, Grace threw us all a big party at the Elks club. We ate tons of pizza and drank soda. There was a dee jay and we all danced and laughed and cheered when the trophies were given out. It was the first dance I had been to without boys. It was the most fun I have ever had at any dance in my life. I threw my arms wildly and shook my hips, not caring what I looked like or who was watching. Nikki and I bumped butts on the dance floor, and she taught me the words to the song "The Roof is on Fire" (we don't need no water let the mother fucker burn!) All of the adults were appalled. I screamed the words loud and strong.

At the end of the party, Grace announced that there was a surprise raffle. A local sporting goods store had donated a bike, and we all had to write our names down and put them in a hat. It was a purple ten-speed, and every girl wanted it bad. For the first time, Nikki looked like an actual kid when her name was called. She ran up to the bike and hugged Grace long and hard. I saw a look pass between my mother and Grace. Although my mom still denies it, I always thought she and Grace had rigged the raffle for Nikki.

We got too old for the softball league and started high school. Nikki went to the local public high school (sometimes) and I went to a private Catholic school in Jersey City. We rarely saw each other, and when we did we nodded hello. Nikki still looked at me like a guy, and I still shrunk away from her gaze.

When I was 18, I was dating a snooty boy, Gerry, from a snooty family. During the summer before college, I convinced Gerry to take me to a local Italian feast. He was clearly uncomfortable in such a working class environment, but he politely looked down his nose and kept his comments to himself. The feast was pulsating with noise and people and smells. It was difficult to navigate through the crowd. Suddenly there was a surge of bodies around us. A girl fight had broken out. Gerry pulled my hand and led me away from the brawl, but I broke free from his grip when I realized Nikki was at the center of the fight. I shoved and pulled girls aside, making my way to Nikki. Gerry's protests faded among all of the other screams and shouts. When I finally reached Nikki, I grabbed her shoulder and she reared back to punch me. Once she caught my eye, she grabbed my ass and broke into a wide smile. Together, we punched and elbowed our way out of the crowd and back to safety.

Once outside of the fight, Nikki planted a wet kiss on my cheek and walked away, her hands tucked into her pockets.

"What the hell was that all about?" Gerry demanded.

I explained how I knew Nikki, how my mother had looked after her, how she had tried to rob me. It made perfect sense to me, but Gerry couldn't understand.

"So, this girl tried to kill you once?"

"No! She would never do anything like that. She just tried to rob me," I explained.

"Uh huh. And you felt the need to risk your life for her because...."

"I don't know. Cause she was my friend."

Gerry shook his head in disgust. We left the feast in silence. I didn't try to explain it after that.
I couldn't really explain any of it. I had never thought of Nikki as my friend before, but once I saw her in trouble, I felt it tug at my heart - that's my friend. And I had to help my friend. I didn't pity her or feel bad for her. In some strange way, I felt she had been a part of me, and of my childhood, and I didn't want to put that part away. Gerry could not and would not understand that part of my past. He was ashamed of it, and couldn't understand why I wasn't. He couldn't understand feeding other people's kids or grilling hot dogs for softball uniforms. I understood it, and I didn't want to let it go.

I didn't see Nikki for years after that. I had heard that she went to a state school on a basketball scholarship but dropped out. I had also heard that she had done some time for dealing and had had a hard time staying out of trouble.

Last year, I was walking down a street that had been ravaged by a fire. Four houses had been destroyed because of a candle left unattended. The smell of smoldering wood hung heavily in the air, and I breathed it in deeply. A figure walked out of one of the gutted buildings slinging a sledge hammer and wearing a face mask.

"Yo!" the mask yelled. I stopped and squinted˜. Nikki's grin appeared from under the mask. She was rounder and softer than when I had last seen her, and her unruly hair was tied off under a kerchief. She bounded down the stairs towards me, stopping just shy of a hug. We exchanged pleasantries, asked about family. She said her grandma had died of cancer a while back, and she now had a place of her own in the projects. She worked demolition, and said she loved knocking shit down. I was happy to see her, glad to know that she seemed settled and was staying out of trouble.

We parted after a few minutes, and I walked on down the block away from her. I turned to wave good-bye once more. Her eyes were traveling up and down my legs, and I once again had that naked sensation that she had provoked in me all those years ago. I laughed and waved, knowing that some things about Nikki would never change.