Black Buck(38)

I kissed the top of her head and held her, the two of us clutching each other while the city’s lifeblood rushed all around us.

“Habibi,” she said, looking up at me. “Habiiiiiiibiiiiii,” she repeated, stretching it out. I couldn’t prevent myself from smiling. “Habiiiiibiiiiiii,” she said again, intoning the words like the morning calls to prayer from Mr. Aziz’s collection of religious CDs we listened to when we were kids. She rocked me back and forth, repeating “Habibi, habibi, habibi” until I busted out laughing.

We stayed like that for an hour, with her updating me on her nursing application and the goings-on at the bodegas.

“I gotta head back,” she said eventually.

“So what now?” I climbed out of the fountain.

She squeezed her eyes and cheesed like a kid making a funny face in a school photo. “First. A kiss.”

I leaned down and brought my lips to hers. “Now what?”

“Now go back to work and kick some ass.”





11





Finally, the big day was here. I stood in front of my mirror, figuring out what to wear. I needed something to give me an extra boost of confidence. So I put on my boxers, placed my head through the ring of my black Starbucks apron, tied its strings in the back, and threw on a T-shirt and jeans, concealing the apron like Clark Kent’s Superman outfit. Hell yeah, I thought, admiring myself. Let’s get it.

The smell hit me before I entered the kitchen, and with it came an ocean of relief. It was clean, with a hint of blueberries and oranges, freshly roasted, and a bright, almost winelike acidity. Kenyan. There’s no coffee around the world as beloved as Kenyan coffee. I also smelled maple syrup, buttermilk, cinnamon, and vanilla.

“Mornin’, Dar,” Ma said. There was a steaming pile of pancakes on the table, fresh maple syrup, and, best of all, Ma sitting with a cup of coffee in her hand.

“Mornin’, Ma. What’s all this for?”

“For you, baby, who else? It’s your big day, so I figured you’d get up early and wanna get somethin’ in you.”

My intestines were doing all kinds of acrobatics, and I kept on feeling like I had to take a crap. But given how tired she’d been for the last few days, I couldn’t leave Ma hanging.

“Thanks, Ma. They smell delicious. You mus’ be feelin’ better, huh?”

She smiled. I reached over and grabbed the pot of coffee.

“What are you doin’?” she asked, her eyes growing wider.

“Pourin’ myself some coffee, what’s it look like?”

She leaned forward, squinting. “You drink coffee? Since when?”

“Since now,” I said, and took a sip.

“Well, look at you, becoming a grown man right before my own eyes.”

I pinched her cheek. “So funny, Ma. You’d give Richard Pryor a run for his money. I gotta go, though.”

“Okay, Mr. Grown Man, but don’ forget about tonight,” she said, as I headed for the door. “Soraya and Mr. Rawlings will be here ’round eight, so you’ll have time to relax a bit before we eat. It’s too bad Jason can’t make it, said he was busy.”

Busy? He’s really taking this shit far.

“Sounds good, I’ll be there.” I held the door open. “Aye, Ma?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I’m happy you’re feelin’ better. I, um, was worried for a second.”

She held her arms out, as if she had just completed a magic trick. “You know you don’ need to worry about me, Dar. God’s got my back, as always. Yours too.”

I’m gonna need it today, that’s for sure.

Down the stairs. “Come ’ere, boy!” Mr. Rawlings shouted from the backyard. “I know tha’s you, always stompin’ down the stairs like a damn elephant. You’re lucky I get up early. Door’s open.”

I entered his apartment and encountered a strong smell of sour fruit, incense, and eggs. A trumpet blared from an old record player, and no lie, there were insects flying around. One landed on me—a ladybug. Another one led me to a picture frame bearing the photo of a beautiful dark-skinned woman cradling a baby. She had a smile that’d make even the devil cry.

“Hey, who’s this?” I asked, bringing the photo with me through the back door. Mr. Rawlings kneeled in front of a mess of green hairy vines, his rosewood cane within arm’s reach. The cuffs of his light blue cardigan were rolled back, and I imagined the knees of his brown slacks to be covered with black dirt.

When he looked up, his face went from confusion to anger. “No one. Put that away. Now. This is why I don’ be invitin’ you to my place. You’re too nosy. Kids have no sense of privacy nowadays.”

“Sorry.” I put it away. “What’s up?”

“Your momma tells me you have a big test today.”

“Yeah.”

“And that them white boys been beatin’ you down.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, come ’ere.”

I walked over to the tangle of vines and kneeled beside him.

“Go on, put your hands in the ground.”

I placed my hands on the soft black earth, but he put his hands over them and pushed them deeper than I knew the old man still had strength for.