This Is My America(74)
“We have to use this,” I say. “Learn more if it’ll help my family.”
“You should do it. I don’t want to stop you, but I don’t think I can face anyone in my family. They were involved in…” He points back to the box with the photo, then where the white robe is shoved back in a box. “All of that.”
“Don’t you want to find out, though? Maybe your grandpa changed.” I’ve been through hell over the years with my father’s sentence, and Dean so easily wants to give up. I shake my head.
“Find out my dad knew about my mom’s history, or worse, that he might be a member? That everything he taught me about treating everyone equally was a lie? I…I can’t face that. I know it’s wrong to hide from that, but I can’t.” Our eyes meet. “Even if you’ll hate me forever.”
“It’s not a lie.”
Dean looks away, a tear escapes, and he quickly wipes it away. I don’t want Dean to see that I think differently about his family. About him. But I can’t help feeling betrayed that they kept these boxes. I don’t understand the intent of keeping it. Why would Mr. Evans allow his wife to keep memorabilia and records if he didn’t agree with these beliefs? Last night my house was threatened. The same hate I see in these boxes put the cross on my lawn, lit a match, and threw a brick through my window.
I pull away from Dean and create some distance, my heart breaking all over again.
SKELETON IN THE CLOSET
I couldn’t think of where else to go, so I went to see Quincy. Quincy and I don’t say a word as he goes through the box of Klan artifacts. His face is stern, but his hands tremble.
“Unbelievable.” Quincy flips through the last few pages of what must be an attendance sheet or membership roster.
“Why do you think they kept all this stuff?” I ask. “Mr. Evans said he’d find out names, but he hasn’t followed up since. Do you think this is why?”
“Don’t try and figure it out,” Quincy says. “People get nostalgic about weird shit like this. Look at the Confederate flag. The South lost, representing slavery. And they still try to play it off like it’s just pride for the South. The Klan weren’t a threat to them. The Klan were just the people they knew, even walked their kids to school to keep them safe.”
“All I see is hate.”
“He could’ve been planning to talk with Dean first.”
“I’d bury it.”
“Maybe boxing everything up was his version of burying it,” Quincy says. “All you need to know is if the Klan knew you had this, it’s dangerous.”
When I first saw the box, I felt sick with an overwhelming sense of betrayal. Quincy’s words got me terrified. Klan aren’t to be taken lightly. And for what? Daddy’s appeal? Because of Jamal?
“What do we do with it?”
“Let’s focus on keeping you away from any trouble.”
“Trouble already found me. You think you can stop me from looking for answers now?”
“I’m not qualified to do that.” Quincy lifts an eyebrow and laughs.
I chuckle.
“What’s this mean for you and Dean?” Quincy pauses. “You good still?”
“I think he was shaken, too,” I say. “And I for sure didn’t know how to process his family history. This is a lot.”
“You came here. If you were feeling him, you would’ve stayed.”
“How could I go on looking at this stuff, with him there?”
“You here because we fit.” Quincy sits closer to me. “You can’t deny that. As much as I’ve tried to keep myself away from you, I’m always falling right back here. And you know that magnet that pulls us together is the same one that pushes you away from Dean. Won’t ever change until you flip that switch and make that decision. He’s had all these years to show you what he’s about, while I waited for you. Tried to not be a reminder, haunting you with our dads’ memories.”
“You’ve never brought bad memories,” I whisper, tears forming in my eyes. I made myself think Quincy was trying to live a separate life from me. I told myself that because it was easy to believe. “I thought you wanted out. Dean and I…He was good to me. A friend. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
“I had Jamal. We were young, but I don’t like feeling like I’m supposed to stay on the sidelines anymore. I’m not stepping back unless you ask me to.”
I let a small smile slip, face flushed. Quincy takes my hand. It’s like we were ripped from each other, our friendship splitting when our families’ lives got torn apart. We had to survive through it. It was already too hard to face our community as children tainted because of our fathers. I think I was too weak to try to face my history with Quincy. But now, with his hands holding mine, I feel us melding back together. Becoming stronger. Becoming something bigger together than apart. It’s all so much to take in. I can see it in his eyes. We need time to let our lives fall back in place. There’s one thing I know now: I won’t let anything pull us apart again.
* * *
I know I’ve overstayed my welcome the way Mrs. Ridges keeps passing Quincy’s room. We’re hip to hip together. Bonded again, like we were as kids, but this time grown. I’m not ready to leave Quincy, so we search online for anything about the Klan and white nationalists in Texas. They’ve erased this from their history. But the burden is on our backs like whips cracking our skin and leaving us to bleed out.