Something like right, p.10
Something Like Right, page 10
How they came apart.
More than anything, the book made me curious. I needed to talk to Ma and ask her questions about these stories. Ask her why she made a book instead of just talking to me.
Ask her why it took so long.
As I flipped through, one thing became clear to me: That for better or worse, love lives in patience, in waiting. How people treat you when they miss you. Like Ma waiting on Pops. Or Tiana from Central waiting on me to call. Distance, for a time, wasn’t so bad if it made people care about someone they loved coming back. Maybe that’s why Ma couldn’t help but love Pops.
When they were young, she kept grabbing at him and getting pieces. A relationship. A baby. A promise. But he was always sparse. Just out of reach. She had spent most of their relationship waiting. She probably missed him every time he left. And every time she saw him again, she remembered how to love what she had been missing. It’s easy to choose the pain we have grown to know. Sometimes, it doesn’t even feel like pain. Just feels like going home.
* * *
Long before he was a man behind a glass, Zay’s father was my knight in shining armor. Before I lost my way and the pain of life split my heart in two, turned the stars in my eyes to needles. Before I let my hurt transform everything I touched, like a ravenous Midas. But even now, as I think about my son in a faraway land, my knight has returned.
Things aren’t always unpredictable. At 17, I met the boy of my dreams, and I knew it at first sight. Whoever imagined little bookworm Tameka would fall for a boy? A white boy at that! Gold rims on his car. Tattoos. A goofy smile with a slightly crooked tooth in the front. I was done before I knew it.
Soon, he’d be picking me up from school every day with a gift, or a snack, or a bouquet. He had already dropped out of school, but he made sure I went. Never let me skip one day to be with him. We’d talk on the phone for hours about my classes and my hopes of going to college for visual art. I felt completely safe in his presence.
And not long after all that, he broke my heart for the first time.
My dreams of finishing college would have to wait. Keith and I were having a little boy. I was thrilled. My family was angry. Keith was scared. But he wanted to be with me. He wanted to try. We welcomed our precious love into the world and named him Xavier. He had his father’s eyes. In less than two years, though, Keith would be hauled off to a cell.
Just like that, he was gone.
* * *
LESSON 3.4
Patience Is a Virtue
“Zay, can you help me?” Feven asked, rushing into Mr. G’s classroom several minutes late. That never happened. Her hair bounced as she plopped down next to me on the Palmer side of the room.
“I mean, I can try, but this is math so…”
“No, no, not with that,” she said. “It’s something else. Something … personal.” The rustle of a noisy latecomer was already turning aggravated heads.
“Yeah, for sure. We may need to move though,” I responded.
We got up and shifted over a couple of rows, looking for seats on the Arnold side of the room where the vibe was more relaxed. We sat next to Smealy—a chubby, freckle-faced kid with a handheld video game anatomically attached to his hand. Okay, maybe not for real. But I had never seen him without it. Explosions and battle sounds from the game fought with the old fan in the corner of the classroom trailer to see which could be louder. I rolled my eyes. Feven covered her laugh with her hand.
“Okay. What’s up?” I asked.
She took a breath and hesitated before speaking. Her cheeks were made up blushy and her lips were coated with a plum-colored lipstick that made them look sweet.
“I’m sorry. I’m just a little nervous. I … I never talk about this stuff,” Feven confessed.
“It’s okay, Feven,” I said. “I’ll just listen. Whatever it is, I promise not to judge.”
“Thanks, Zay.” She took a breath. “So, with the holidays coming, my parents are really getting into the celebrations. We’re Christian, and the celebrations always include going to church. But this year … I don’t want to go.”
“Hmm.” I rubbed my chin. “Why?”
She lowered her voice. “I’ve never told anyone this, but … sometimes I don’t know if I’m really a Christian. Or if I just do it because that’s what my parents taught me, you know? I don’t know, I’m … I’m having a hard time. Feeling guilty.”
“That’s tough, Feven,” I said. “I think … it’s fair to feel like you just can’t see yourself inside the religion. Like, even if you hear the sermons and understand them, if it doesn’t feel like they’re talking to you … like the messages are meant for you. Do your parents know how you feel?”
Feven shook her head sadly.
“It’s just a lot to deal with. Habesha people are always picking at each other. Someone’s always on my case. You talk too much. You don’t talk enough. You get used to it, but it hurts sometimes. I’ve never felt different from my family on something so important. I’m scared if they know how I really feel, they won’t accept me anymore.”
I took her hand in mine as her eyes welled up. “You don’t have to rush it, Feven. I’m sure you’ll figure out the right decision. It’ll come to you in time.”
Feven slid her hand out of mine and rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, sure. It’s always up to me to figure out the right decision. Everybody else wants me to solve their problems, but nobody can help with mine.”
I frowned. “I’m sorry? I, um. Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. I’m sorry.”
My ears got hot. I was sure my face had turned beet red.
“Whatever, Zay. It’s fine. Just forget I said anything.”
The bell rang. We gathered our things and headed to lunch. We chose to eat outside, even though the chilly wind prickled our cheeks. Even in a down mood, Feven made my heart flutter, but I couldn’t shake the guilty feeling that I dropped the ball when she really needed me.
I sat on the bleacher below Feven, in between her knees. We ate our lunches under a gray sky, in silence except for the whipping of the wind. Other Broadlawn students smoked cigarettes in the wide-open field outside the cafeteria. A few teachers came over and scolded kids for cutting class to have multiple lunch periods. Once they were caught, most of them didn’t put up a fight. Teachers at Broadlawn said you could always tell a really bad kid because when you punished them, they didn’t react. Took it in stride. Like they expected it. But how could they not?
There are only so many times and ways you can punish somebody before it just becomes an expectation. Every kid at Broadlawn had learned that lesson firsthand.
Feven tousled my downy fluff of hair from the bleacher above me. When I was younger, I hated wearing my hair longer. Too easy for the other kids in our neighborhood to tell I wasn’t all the way Black. But since the first time Feven had touched my hair and said it felt soft, I hadn’t cut it, in the hopes that maybe she’d do it more often.
“You ready to head back inside?” I asked Feven as the class bell rang.
“If we must.” She sighed. “But can we wait a couple of minutes for the bell to stop? This quiet is priceless. We can dodge the rush.”
We watched students trickle back into the boxy warehouse of a school. Some would go to class. Some would cut and find a place to smoke. Some would cry. And some wouldn’t notice any of it happening. Just doing their best to make it through another day.
We entered the now-empty cafeteria through a side door. Feven measured her steps, stalling. She never dawdled before class.
“Um, Feven? Are you feeling okay? What’s up?” Feven stared blankly ahead, her posture slack. She said the next words like she couldn’t believe what she heard coming out of her own mouth.
“I don’t … I don’t feel like going back to class.”
I laughed hysterically. “Yeah, you’re definitely not feeling okay. What have you done with the real Feven?” She giggled and pushed my arm. My eyes fixated on hers for a second, and I stared deep into their majestic hazel. I remembered Aunt Seggie’s words. Life is for living. She needs adventure.
A rush of blood to my head and the quickening of my heartbeat told me that this was my chance. The moment I’d been waiting for. An opportunity to pull Feven toward me.
“You know, I heard some people talking about how there was something worth seeing in the old music building,” I said.
“Something like what?”
“I don’t know. Something cool.”
“They don’t use that building anymore. Can we even get in?” she asked.
“Only one way to find out.”
“Skip class?” Feven shuffled uncomfortably, crossing her arms. “I don’t know.”
“You already did your work, right? You’re crushing school. You’re making your parents happy. Aunt Seggie’s studying is going better than it ever has. You’ve done everything that everybody else wants you to do. Maybe it’s time for you to do something for yourself…”
Feven squinted at me. I saw the longing in her expression weighing against her hesitation. It was almost like I could hear her voice inside my head. Feel her desire in my own chest.
“You know what? You’re right,” she said. “Let’s go.”
We wrapped around the upperclassmen hall and snuck past all the classes in session. The drab blues and grays painted on the walls ran together. We had to hide from two campus police officers stationed by the gym and take the long way around the auditorium. Finally, we made it to the tunnel that linked the new school building to the old one. A layer of grime underfoot made our pathway sticky.
Broadlawn hadn’t always been an alternative school. It opened as a college way back at the turn of the century. One of the first institutions in the state that had gender parity in its enrollment. That explained its massive size and open campus, with dozens of rectangular, sandy buildings to accommodate thousands of learners.
But the college lost funding once they moved the juvenile detention center to town and it started sucking up all the resources. I wondered what those pioneer students would think if they could see their alma mater now. If they could see us. A bunch of disappointments. A group of kids with no future in a place they left behind for us, thinking we’d change the world.
Feven and I walked down the dusty tunnel in dim light, me leading her by the hand. The tenderness of her touch soaked through my skin and tissue, down into my bloodstream, and circulated with all the rest of the things I needed to live. When we were close, it felt like we could never be far.
The tunnel kept going and going—a long cylindrical hallway with yellowing floors and geometric diamonds on the linoleum. Matching rails adorned either side of the walkway. The rounded walls met at the ceiling and cast a darkness over us, but a few flickering bulbs gave just enough light for us to reach the end of our journey: rusted-brown double doors with dirty square windows, linked and padlocked with a heavy chain.
“You called it, huh?” I said to Feven.
We rubbed the dust off the windows with our sleeves and cupped our hands around our eyes. Feven had to stand on her toes to peer into the room. It was mostly dark. But by a sliver of light coming from another window somewhere inside, we could see a platform in the center of the space. Almost like a monument. A tall rectangular column with the figure of a woman on top.
“Is that … is that a trumpet she’s holding?” Feven asked.
“Looks like it.” I rubbed at the dusty window a little more.
“I wonder what it means…” Feven turned to me with bright eyes.
“I wish we could get in. We’ll have to come back with some bolt cutters next time,” I said. I was only half-joking. If she said it would make her happy, I’d do it. Feven smiled, so of course I had to.
“Thank you, Zay.” She walked into me and wrapped me tightly in a hug. I hugged her back just as tight. We fit into each other like puzzle pieces. The hug ended and as we started to separate, I held her arms at the elbow, keeping her close. She blinked and looked at me. I saw the same longing in her eyes that I had seen back in the cafeteria.
And I knew she could see it in mine.
Anticipation bound our gazes. I leaned in close enough to her face to feel the warmth from her body pulsating. I paused, my lips centimeters from hers, invisible electricity crackling silently between them. I pressed my lips lightly against Feven’s. They tasted like cherry lip balm. I held the kiss for a couple of seconds, but Feven didn’t move. I pulled back and opened my eyes. Feven’s lips quivered as she held her mouth open slightly, not speaking … for too long.
“I—I’m so sorry, Feven. I … I thought—”
“It’s okay, Zay,” she said softly.
“No, it’s not okay. I didn’t ask you first. I got caught in the moment, but I didn’t mean—”
“Zay,” she interrupted me. I stopped talking and looked at her, my expression sagging with remorse. “It’s okay…”
She leaned in and kissed me this time, for longer than two seconds. I pulled her close and kissed her back. Goose bumps covered my whole body. My insides vibrated; my rib cage was an echo chamber of jingling bells. Her lips were so soft. I was torn between enjoying the sensation of the moment and mourning the end of a kiss that felt too good to be true.
We separated, looked at each other again, and fell into laughter.
“Well … I’ll skip class anytime for this,” I said.
She laughed and covered her mouth. “You’re so corny, Zay.”
I shrugged. “It’s not all bad.” I took her hand. “We should get back. Let’s go.”
Feven took my hand and we set off. We had missed most of the period, so we waited near the auditorium until class let out and the deluge of jabbering and joking students emptied into the hall. People started swirling around us, but I hardly noticed. Even with all the commotion, it felt like we were the only two people in the hallway. I smiled and squeezed Feven’s hands before she turned to head to her next class. I watched her get smaller and smaller in the distance before she turned and called out to me.
“Text me later?”
“You know I will,” I said. “Oh!” I exclaimed before she got too far away. “Hey, about that whole religion thing…”
“Yeah?” she asked.
I gave her my most sly smile.
“I’ve got an idea.”
LESSON 3.5
Student Clubs Look Great on College Applications
Feven shook her head, twisting side to side with her hands in her pockets. The sharp wind cutting across the Broadlawn grounds chilled us both.
“It’s never going to work,” said Feven for the millionth time.
“You’re just a hater,” I responded. “It’s the perfect plan.”
“I can’t miss church, Zay!” she replied. “I’ve never missed it. Not even one time. Even if I’m sick, my family will literally bring me to church and pray over me. ‘Be thankful, gwalay. Somebody has it worse than you, daughter.’”
“But you won’t be missing church. You’ll just be at a different one. My aunt’s church is pretty cool. Maybe a different place of worship is exactly what you need.”
“Ugh. Maybe…”
“Take your time, Feven,” I said. “Just remember, I’m the planner. You’re the genius. You’re supposed to look at my ridiculous ideas and be skeptical. And then I’m supposed to surprise you, defying all odds.”
Feven snickered. “Well, we can definitely agree on the me being the genius part,” she said, snapping another green bean off between her teeth. “Hey, by the way, how’s that book your mom sent you? It sounded fascinating.”
I shook my head, searching for the right words. “It’s … amazing. I read a little bit of it every night. There’s so much I never knew. I won’t even know where to start talking about it when I see my ma,” I said.
“Looks like her plan worked, then,” said Feven. “Wow, whoever convinced you to hear her out was really on the nose. Perfect advice. Ten out of ten.”
I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks again. It’s funny—this is the longest we’ve ever been apart, but the book makes me feel so close to her. You know … you always mention your parents, but you’ve never really told me much about them.”
Feven looked down at her shoes. “You’re asking for a lot today, Zay.”
“I don’t mean to be pushy,” I said. I felt a hot flash of nerves that I might be saying the wrong thing again. “I just—I’m sure they’ve had such interesting experiences, traveling here from Eritrea and all. Probably could teach me a lot about you as well.”
“There’s nothing else to know about me! You’re so nosy, Zay.” Feven pointed her fork at me, moving it around in tiny circles with narrow eyes. “You know Habesha people don’t go around telling people our whole lives.”
“Look, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel like it. I’m just saying—I wanna know.” I raised my hands in defeat.
Feven looked back down at her tray but smiled. “New topic. Have you talked to Kenny?”
“A little, the other day. I’m worried about him,” I said.
“Why?”
“He’s still hanging out with that Demarco kid. And, I don’t know. I just … I have a feeling he’s into some dangerous stuff. And it feels like only so long before he gets caught up. I wish he would just stop hanging out with those guys and come back to school.”
“Yeah,” said Feven. “That is scary. But it’s not that easy for him. He doesn’t have his parents and his grandma doesn’t make a lot of money. It’s not his fault. He’s just being Kenny. Doing what he thinks will work to make everybody happy.”
“I guess you’re right.” I swiped my hand down my face like I could wipe my worry away. “I just wish this place had more productive things for students to do. Like a work program. Or student clubs. Keep ’em busy and outta trouble.” I laughed to myself. “Can you imagine Kenny in a student club? Golf. Woodworking. No, no—Drama! Improv!”
