Long Division(63)

WEARING BLOUSES NOW.


I was two hours and twenty minutes from my baptism and Grandma was already at work on Monday morning. She planned on meeting Uncle Relle and me at the church on her lunch break. To tell you the truth, Grandma left the house heated. First, she hated that she had agreed to make me wear this dashiki that my mama had left in her closet. I hated it, too. It was bright yellow with brown half moons and full red sun splotches all over it. She said that Mama had always wanted me baptized in the thing, but she was pissed when Mama called her and told her she wouldn’t be able to make it to Melahatchie. I could tell the dashiki was too big when Grandma handed it to me. When I put it on, the damn thing came all the way down past my navel, all the way past my thighs, and damn near touched my kneecaps. Plus, the neck part was too wide, so you could see the suit coat, vest, and tie underneath. I needed a shape-up, too, and there wasn’t one wave in my head since that white dude had taken my brush.

Uncle Relle came out on the porch while I was stewing in shame. He had a crazy smile on his face. “Anything you want to say to people before your big day?” he asked with one of his little phones in my face.

“Naw, not really. I’m good. I just hate my outfit.”

He laughed and said, “That shit looks real fucked up, but you good! Anyone you wish could be here to see you go through this day?”

I just looked at him. Couldn’t believe Uncle Relle was using the word “wish.” Wasn’t his style. “Naw, Uncle Relle. I’m good.”

“I’ll be right back in like ten minutes.”

I asked him where he was going, but he ignored me and jumped in his van.


Ten minutes later, Uncle Relle was pulling back into the driveway and someone else was in the passenger seat with him. Uncle Relle got out, walked around the passenger side, and opened the door. In what felt like slow motion, a patent leather blue-black Adidas hit the gravel.

I knew those Adidas.

Uncle Relle focused his camera phone on LaVander Peeler’s face as he got out of the van. As soon as I saw him, I thought about how stupid I looked in that damn dashiki. The LaVander Peeler I knew before the contest would have ethered me in one epic sentence for that outfit, but I wasn’t sure how much of that LaVander Peeler was left since he’d gone through that hell at the Coliseum. Plus, I hated that MyMy and Shay couldn’t meet him.

“What up, LaVander?” I tried to be real cool when he walked up on the porch. “What you doing here?”

He looked at my hands. “Where’s your brush?”

“Oh.” I used my left hand to go over my hair. “Long story.”

“You straight up wearing blouses now?” he asked me.

“Oh,” I tried to get my lie straight. “This is the new thing they wearing down here. But it’s not a blouse.”

“What is it then?” he asked, and just stood there reminding me of the old LaVander Peeler. I was deep into thinking of all the ways I could blame LaVander Peeler when one of those crazy things happened where we both looked up at Uncle Relle hoping he would turn that camera off so we could say what we really needed to say.

Surprisingly, he told us we’d be leaving soon and walked in the house.

“Why are you at my grandma’s house?” I asked him again.

“My father told me I had to come.”

“But why?”

“You doing that show your uncle told me about?” he asked me. “That seems like something you would wanna do. They say we could make over a million dollars each if we do it. All things considered, only a fool could turn down that money.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” I said. “But I feel different after being here for a few days. That contest or that show ain’t nothing compared to what I been through this weekend.”

He just looked at my feet, shook his head, and said, “…”

“What?” I asked him.

“Nothing, City. It’s just, you always think you’ve been through something harder than somebody else.”

“Follow me,” I told him and walked behind the house. I pointed to the work shed. “Be quiet, okay? Just listen.”

We were still as could be. Then there was thump from the shed. Then another one.

“What’s that noise?” LaVander Peeler asked.

“A white man and this book. You heard of a book called Long Division?”

“No. Should I?”

“It’s the realest book I’ve ever read in my life, man.”

“The most real?”

“It’s the most real book ever, man. For real, it’s about tomorrow and yesterday and the magic of love. I’m serious. A version of me is in the book and Baize Shephard is in there, too. You might be in there, too. I haven’t finished it so I don’t know.”

“All things considered,” he said. “I believe you.”

We started walking back to the porch. I was leading the way. I realized it was the first time that LaVander Peeler had ever followed me anywhere. When we were under Grandma’s cottonwood tree, LaVander Peeler tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around with my fists balled up.

“City, why’d they do that to us?” he asked me. “My father just told me that the difference between me and President Obama is that President Obama never took his eyes off the prize. President Obama was clutch when they did things to him they’d never done to another president. He didn’t cry or cause a scene. He was always perfect when it was most important.”