Black Buck(7)

She pinched his cheek. “Don’ start, old man.” Like I said, the man was a Bed-Stuy veteran to be respected, but if you’re going to dish it out, you also got to take it.

“Take a seat and let’s say grace,” Ma said from the head of the table, still rocking the clothes she always wore to and from work—a loose fitting white blouse tucked into blue jeans—smelling like chlorine. I knew breathing that shit in all day wasn’t good for her, but she refused to quit, saying that she was good at her job and needed to feel good at something.

The four of us held hands and Ma prayed. “Dear Lord, thank you for your unconditional love, the opportunity you’ve afforded all of us to be able to sit down with one another, eat good food, not have to worry about where our next meal is goin’ to come from, and—”

She pulled her hands away, her whole body convulsing like the cough was coming from somewhere deep inside of her. As if a monster had wrapped its phlegmy tentacles around her insides.

“Ma,” I said, rubbing her back. “Spit it out. Whatever it is, spit it out. You’ll feel better afterward.”

“Thank you, baby. I’m alright. Let’s finish up.”

We grabbed hands again. “Sorry, Lord. Had a cough.” The four of us chuckled. “Thank you for the opportunity to see another day. Dear Lord, I pray that you help Darren find his path and that you use him as an instrument to help others in the ways we all know he’s intended to. I pray that Soraya continues to grow her father’s empire of bodegas to the farthest edges of your green earth, and that Mr. Rawlings’s garden continues to produce delicious vegetables and flowers for all of us to admire and enjoy. Amen.”

“Amen.”

“You know, Mrs. V,” Soraya started, plopping a piece of pizza onto my plate. “You mentioned opportunity in your prayer tonight. What’s funny is that D has jus’ been presented with one but doesn’ plan on takin’ it.”

The three of them glared at me as if I had been accused of a crime. I just kept eating.

“Well, boy, go on,” Mr. Rawlings said, hitting me with those stank eyes only wrinkly-ass Black men know how to do.

“Yeah, Dar. Go on,” Ma said, gripping the hell out of my hand.

“Ah, c’mon, Soraya. Why’d you have to bring it up? It’s nothin’, Ma. Some guy at work today, you know those white techie guys? He asked me to visit his office to talk.”

“Whatchu mean, talk?” Mr. Rawlings asked. “What kinda talk he wanna do, askin’ you to talk outta the blue like that?”

“It wasn’ outta the blue,” Soraya explained, jumping into the entire story. The double registers, what Rhett was like, how I convinced him to buy a different drink, the reverse close.

“Reverse what?” Mr. Rawlings asked. “Sounds like one of those newfangled sex positions y’all young folk be pretzelin’ yourselves into nowadays.”

“Percy!” Ma shouted, slapping Mr. Rawlings’s wrist. “And what, Dar? You didn’ go to his office after work?”

“Nah,” I said, preparing for whatever she was about to lay on me. But instead, she just pulled her hand away and looked down at the white crumbs on her plate. Then the sniffling came.

“C’mon, Ma.” I felt like shit. Mr. Rawlings grabbed another slice of pizza, muttering to himself. And Soraya looked at me like she messed up, which she did.

“In the middle of every difficulty lies opportunity,” Ma said, staring down at her plate. “You know who said that?”

I took a breath, shaking my head.

“It’s somethin’ your father used to always say. Whenever we were goin’ through a tough time, or somethin’ jus’ wasn’ workin’ out like it was supposed to, he’d turn to me, and say, ‘In the middle of every difficulty lies an opportunity, amor.’ I always believed him. And he was always right. It’s what I told myself when he passed and what I still tell myself today.”

“Look here, boy,” Mr. Rawlings said, staring me down.

I quickly looked up, then away.

“I said look at me,” he repeated, sounding more serious than the time I accidentally crushed his English peas. “Young Black folk, even mixed-up Black and Spanish folk like yourself, don’ get this type of opportunity too often.

“Back in my day, when a white man gave you an opportunity, it came at a cost. You could be his chauffeur, but had to always be available to drive him around no matter if you had plans with your family or not. You could vote, but someone would break your legs if you didn’ vote for the candidate they wanted you to. But either way, an opportunity was an opportunity, and if you took it, and learned how to play their game, you could be successful.”

But I don’t want to play their game. I was fine doing my own thing. Working at Starbucks wasn’t so bad. I had plenty of time to kick it with Soraya. And most important, I was there for Ma whenever she needed me. But it wasn’t until she turned to me, tears running down her cheeks, that I actually considered seeing Rhett.

“Promise me you’ll at least give this a chance. Whatever it is,” Ma said. “That man must’ve seen somethin’ in you, Dar. Somethin’ that everyone in Bed-Stuy sees in you. You owe it to yourself to follow up and see what he wants. Promise me.”