This Is My America(60)

I open my mouth to correct her. She’s never directly said anything about my workshops. They’re not anti-cop—they’re pro-rights. Mama’s giving me the eye, so I force a bite of food to swallow my words. I look over at Corinne, who seems to have lost her appetite. I give her a wink. She doesn’t react.

“If Dean were accused of something he didn’t do and was sentenced, you’d want justice, a fair defense, even if you couldn’t afford it,” Steve says.

“I just wonder, why now? What can possibly be proven after all these years?”

I choke on my food, guzzle some water down. Mama looks like she’s five seconds away from cursing out Mrs. Evans talking like this in her house, over food she made.

“The Beaumonts believe it’s worth it.” Steve points around the table at us. “The first family appeal letter I read was from a stack my father took home every night. That’s when I stopped hating him for working so much and realized he was a hero. Tracy’s letters have come in like clockwork every week for seven years. While I’m here, this case is the only case to me. I’m not worried about a town’s wish to get back to normal.”



I hold back a sob, thinking about my daddy’s life on the line and someone actually reading my letters.

“Well, I, for one, am glad you’re here,” Mr. Evans says, then looks at his wife. “I’ve always given you room for your opinions, but we’re in someone’s home right now. Lillian’s worked for us for years counting books, helping expand our sales online when the business was damn near ready to fold. We know her kids, and there’s nothing wrong with an investigation to help bring justice for James if they can prove he was innocent.”

“Don’t make me the bad one here.” Mrs. Evans raises her voice. “I want to protect my family. I don’t want to get mixed up in this like I’m choosing sides.”

“Choosing sides,” I say. “There’s one side. The side of justice.”

“I’m not saying anything about your dad’s…situation. But with that poor girl dead, people are asking questions. Now, if it looks like we’re helping, we might lose business.”

Mama’s face goes tight. Mrs. Evans is talking about Jamal now, and it don’t sit right.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Lillian. I don’t mean anything by it. I’m saying what it looks like to other people might have an impact on my business. My home.”

“I don’t want to get anyone upset.” Steve shakes his head. “But if causing disruption in town is asking questions and finding evidence that might free an innocent man, then call me guilty.”



“I’m gonna start on dessert now.” Mama sits up. “Corinne, you wanna help?”

“I’ll get the bananas.” Corinne races to the kitchen, finally a smile on her face. Mama goes to follow Corinne, but Mr. Evans places his hand on hers.

“No. No. Sit down,” Mr. Evans says. “I think it’s due time Judy sits and listens. If she’d change the news channel every once in a while, she’d see real issues are going on with police and Black folks. And you know it’s no different than it’s ever been around here.”

“Don’t get started on this Blacks and police.” Mrs. Evans shakes her head. “None of this has anything to do with race.”

I’ve always suspected her feelings but didn’t know for sure. Dean’s hidden them as much as he could from me until recently. But the more I hear from her, the more I’m boiling inside. I grip my hands under the table to control myself and avoid looking at Dean, who is desperately trying to capture my attention.

“That’s enough.” Mr. Evans taps at the table with his fist. “Steve, the office space is there as long as you need it. I’d be more than glad to let it be used for something good. Now, I don’t want to hear another word because I want Lillian’s famous bananas Foster, and I’m not leaving without a bite.”

Mrs. Evans stays silent.



Mama spends a few minutes in the kitchen, then enters the dining room with a flaming pan as Corinne runs to turn down the lights. That’s Corinne’s favorite part about eating bananas Foster.

There’s complete silence as each bite is finished. My mind is on everything Mrs. Evans said. Anger seeping in as I watch her, I decide I’d rather do the dishes than sit at the table any longer.

Dean follows me to help clear up.

“No, sit down,” Mama says. “You’re a guest.”

“You know I’ll be hearing the hawing over there if I don’t join her,” Dean jokes, then grabs a handful of plates.

“I’d be fine,” I say. “But since you’re offering, you’re washing and I’m drying.”

Before we get to the kitchen, a booming noise explodes outside.

A roaring thump follows, and a hard pop and crash.

I recoil, my hands covering my head as shattered glass shoots across the room. I’m stunned until I hit the ground, Dean hovering over me like a shield. The chaos is deafening. My world just exploded.





AMERIKKKA


Our front window is destroyed.

Unsteady, I get to my feet to check on everyone. Hold Corinne close. Still unsure what happened. Mama is covering her mouth, her eyes teary and wide.