This Is My America(64)

I press into him as if I’m melting in his arms. He leans in to kiss me, and I don’t stop him.

His lips are gentle, soft. He kisses me again, and this time I respond. Careful to not go too far, not to risk one of us pulling away. Making up for all the moments we’d never had the courage, never had the chance, never sure if our feelings for each other would be returned.



Upstairs there’s a creaking noise, followed by a door opening, and we jump apart.

“It’s midnight. Your mom’s probably making sure I get back like I promised…”

“I know.” I hold back an embarrassed smile. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

Dean takes my hand, making his way to our front door. Everything tells me Dean and I should only be friends. That’s what I’ve convinced myself over the years, but what if I’ve been wrong?

Dean opens the door, and at first I think he’s leaving, but then he pushes toward me and I’m pinned between the door and him. This time Dean doesn’t move to kiss me first. I tug on his shirt, and that must be all that he needs before he kisses me again. This time he’s not as gentle. And I’m not as fragile. This time he holds nothing back, rushing to me in desperate kisses. My body shaking, grateful for the door holding me up.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like this,” Dean says in hot, stuttering breaths.

I kiss him deeper, knowing we should stop, but it’s not what I want. I want to feel better, without my brain in overdrive, thinking too hard about every situation, every reason I’ve told myself we can’t be a thing. We can’t happen. But each kiss tells me different.



When I’m confident he won’t disappear, I hold his face. His breathing heavy. Our lips slowing down and my mind catching up to my body that’s on fire. Aching not to stop and knowing I want to feel this good forever.





ONE DAY AT A TIME


I’m guessing I’m not the only one who doesn’t sleep. The house feels unsettled, creaking with each shift—toilet flushing, fridge opening, lights flicking on and off.

Finally, when I smell breakfast, I go downstairs. Corinne sips juice while Mama reads the paper. I scrunch up my nose, confused at Steve cooking.

“Morning, Mama.” I kiss her cheek, run my fingers over Corinne’s black coils.

“Steve’s making breakfast.” Corinne grins.

“I see that,” I say. “Don’t burn my bacon.”

Steve shakes his head.

I laugh because it’s the kind of thing I’d say to Jamal. It breaks the heaviness weighing in my chest.

No one outside our family has ever been caught cooking in our kitchen. I give Mama a puzzled look until I see the view out the window—a blackened char where the cross was set ablaze. The boarded-up window. Mama needs a break.



“Tracy, better hurry up,” Mama says. “We leaving soon. You coming with us? I can drop you off.”

“I’ll take Jamal’s car to school.” With everything going on, I need to be able to get around.

“You sure it’s safe to be alone? Steve’s riding with us, so we can all leave together.”

“It’s daylight; Beverly’s still here. I want to get the word out about the community meeting. I’ll meet you there after school.”

“I wanna go to the meeting,” Corinne says.

Mama’s face goes tight, like it’s not the time for this conversation. Downtown hasn’t been friendly, and if I was getting looks through town, being pushed around at school, Corinne must’ve been, too. Corinne’s been through a lot; the community meeting might scare her. Guilt sizzles through me because I didn’t think how things have been affecting Corinne.

“We’ll have a separate playroom for the kids. It’ll be fun,” Mama says.

“I guess it’ll be all right.” Corinne’s face droops.

“The meeting will be long. Lots of people talking,” I say. “I’ll fill you in, though. All the big highlights.”

“Yeah? That’d be nice.” Corinne gives a half smile, then takes a bite of food.



I know she’s trying to process all this. Just like when I was her age, eavesdropping on all the hushed conversations Mama had about Daddy. Corinne might be young, but she notices how when she enters a room it sucks our conversation dry about what’s happening. Jamal used to be the one to smooth things over.

Corinne was born after Daddy was sentenced, so she didn’t know what life was like with Daddy. But she did know with Jamal. He filled in in Daddy’s absence. A big brother to protect her. He made sure she could look up to him. At her school events, all her friends loved seeing Jamal. He’d race them at her playground. He never treated her dropoffs like a chore, not like me. Jamal was the string tying us all together. Making sure the hole wouldn’t be so empty that if Daddy came back it’d still be impossible for him to fill. Now I see that hole turn gaping. I hate that Corinne will have to carry that shadow behind her, those invisible chains that say who her daddy was. Who her brother was. I don’t want that to swallow her up, replacing her with somebody new. I just hope it’s someone with armor, not someone who can break. Not someone like Tasha or myself. But someone better.

I get up and grab paper to write a note to Corinne that I’ll slip in her lunch box, just like Jamal would if he was here and this went down.