Something like right, p.9
Something Like Right, page 9
“Why not? You’re a handsome young man.”
I felt my ears and cheeks turning red. “But … she told me her parents are super strict. And I don’t even know if she likes me. We’re good friends, but … I can’t tell if it’s anything more than that.”
Aunt Seggie’s face flashed with surprise. “So you do know Feven! From where? From school?”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. It hadn’t even been ten minutes and I had already broken my promise to Feven. My hands started to sweat. Her aunt would probably tell her about my crush on her and then things would get super awkward. Ugh! I shot a glance over at Feven, facing the computer. Hopefully, her headphones were blocking out all the sounds around her. I returned to Aunt Seggie with a grave expression.
“Please don’t tell Feven. It’s supposed to be a secret. I don’t want to get her in trouble with her parents.”
“I knew it.” Aunt Seggie smiled. “You can’t hide what’s in the eyes, Xavier. I could tell from the way you look at my niece. But you don’t have to worry about me talking with her parents. Mbwa! With all their rules. Never want the girl to have any fun. Eritrean people are very private. Keep to ourselves. We say Seb yinebr kem betu, aykownin kem gorebetu. Live your own life, not your neighbor’s. Do what makes you happy. I wish the girl would apply this to her parents, but you know, family is tougher.”
I sighed in relief. “Thank you. Okay. Well, let’s get started.”
“Not yet,” Aunt Seggie interjected. “I love a good romance. They give me hope. You have to tell me all the details. If you tell me your feelings for Feven, I will promise not to tell her what you say. But if you don’t want to share with me … well then maybe I accidentally tell my niece how I found that you are no regular tutor.”
My jaw dropped. Fifteen minutes earlier it had been a perfectly normal day. Now, here I was, a victim of extortion by an old lady looking for entertainment in the love lives of teenagers.
What choice did I really have?
I still needed time to build up my reputation with Feven and win her over. I didn’t want to do too much too early. And more importantly, if she knew that I had blown our cover during the very first tutoring session, she probably wouldn’t let me see Aunt Seggie ever again. That would ruin my entire plan. Checkmate. Aunt Seggie: 1. Zay: 0.
“Okay, fine.” I agreed. “I’ll tell you stuff. But later! We have to study or Feven will wonder what we talked about this whole time.”
Aunt Seggie grinned and picked up her pencil. “Great. We have a deal. Okay, Mr. Xavier, what will we learn today?”
Aunt Seggie and I spent the next hour talking through her first citizenship test, but that was just the start. We branched off into talking about Ethiopia and Eritrea, their governments, history, and so many other things. Even though she had struggled with the civics part of her first test, she understood government and politics better than most of the adults I’d heard blabbering about people in Washington, D.C.
She explained how Eritrea has a judicial, legislative, and executive branch, just like America, but that the latter two are both controlled by their head of state. I talked about the balance of powers among the different branches and how the U.S. has a two-party system, even though lots of political parties exist. She explained Eritrea’s challenges and triumphs, different resistances and regimes, and how no privatized journalism is allowed. That got me talking about how a lot of American media outlets are mostly controlled by corporations that encourage them to slant stories in their favor. By the time Feven came over to end our session, I was knee-deep in the excitement of note-taking and explanations.
I kinda didn’t want it to end.
“Well, looks like it went … well!” Feven said as we packed up to leave. “Gotta be honest, Zay, I wasn’t sure about this at first. But if your tutoring is Aunt Seggie approved … I think we’ll keep you around.”
“Amlak ymesgen. This is a very smart young man, ma’eray. Very charming,” said Aunt Seggie, smiling at Feven and pointing to me with her eyes. Feven blushed.
“Oh my God, Auntie. You’re so embarrassing. Come on, let’s go.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are you still going to let me drive a part of the way home?”
Aunt Seggie nodded excitedly. “I won’t tell if you won’t. A little mischief is good. Keeps you alive. I look forward to the next time, Xavier.”
“So do I,” I said.
Aunt Seggie finished packing up and sauntered over near the stacks, watching Feven and me out of the corner of her eye but doing a bad job of pretending not to.
“Thanks again, Zay,” Feven said. “This whole idea … it’s so brilliant. And I got so much work done. This is the first afternoon in forever where I’ll be able to just relax when I get home. This is special. You’re special.”
She reached out for me tentatively and wrapped me in a gentle hug. I hugged her back softly with my arms around her shoulders. The scent of lavender wafted off her. She let me go and blushed again, scurrying over to join her aunt, the sly old lady with a twinkle in her eye.
“Oh! Next time we talk you have to tell me about your mom!” Feven shouted across the library. Sam, from the circulation desk, looked over sternly. Feven mouthed I’m sorry before continuing. “I want all the details!” she whispered loudly from near the rear exit.
I waved as they exited, then turned to leave.
“That girl … wow,” said Sam as I passed the circulation desk. “Now I see why you’re spending your Saturdays in the library.”
“I could be spending them in here with you as a coworker, but you want to be selfish!” I said in a singsong voice as I crossed the threshold of the exit.
“Self-love is the best love,” Sam called back.
I chuckled on my way through the door.
When I stepped outside, the fresh air in my lungs felt like new life. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. The sun shined brighter. The birds chirped in beautiful melodies.
Can you like one person so much it makes the whole world seem better?
It has to be more than “like” at that point, right? I hadn’t had any interaction with Feven yet that didn’t inspire me, give me confidence. Sure, it had only been a couple of months, but I had been around plenty of girls for two months before and never felt this way. Before I came to Broadlawn, I was barely getting by, and now I was excited to do things, try things, share with her. To look into her eyes.
A deeper feeling had started to grow inside me.
I thought about Sam’s comment: Self-love is the best love. I couldn’t agree. If this feeling I had for Feven was some version of love—then love was the best thing I’d ever felt. Having someone to do things for. To look forward to seeing. The nervousness and anticipation of the next “first” moment—like that hug. To see someone’s smile and feel your heart pause. I wondered if this was how loving my pops made my ma feel. If this was why she could never let go.
I walked back to Aunt Mel’s place feeling like I understood things a little better.
Because when you love someone so much that you feel like anything is possible, it’s hard to imagine that the fire in your heart will flare hot enough to burn even you. Love isn’t interested in detailing the darkness of a night sky.
Love is about seeing the stars.
LESSON 3.3
Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
My Monday morning alarm blared as I, still in a stupor, fumbled with my phone trying to shut it off. Sleeping late every day during fall break spoiled me quicker than dairy. I turned over in bed and unlocked my phone, started scrolling through my social media—the healthiest thing to do when you first wake up. I didn’t scroll long before I saw a post from Kenny—a sequence of photos. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and took a closer look.
Kenny stood on a littered, blighted street. A sneaker on one foot, an orthopedic shoe on the other, still-injured foot. His slim frame cast a giant, slender shadow on the brightly lit sidewalk. He posed in all black, making gestures with his hands that I didn’t recognize. The caption read Ride or Die. I recognized the person next to him throwing up the same hand signs. It was the kid from the robbery—Demarco. I swiped through all the pictures in the post. The final one showed him in a group of other boys I didn’t recognize—definitely not B.A.S. students. Some had guns. Some flashed money. Some looked into the camera like they wanted to break it.
When Kenny had told me he wouldn’t be coming back to B.A.S., I figured he’d spend his time doing something potentially dangerous. But based on what I knew about Demarco, Kenny might have gotten himself into trouble there was no getting out of. I wanted to talk to him … but what would I say? And what reason could he ever have to listen?
I pulled myself out of bed, got dressed, and left for school. A small parcel sat at the foot of the door. When I picked it up to move it, I noticed it was addressed to me. I tucked it under my arm and headed on my way.
I woke up late and missed my ride, but I made it out of the house on time. So as I tread along the path to B.A.S., I decided to stop at Doug’s and get a snack for the walk. I entered the sugary-smelling storefront, still fidgeting with the tape on the parcel, and heard my name.
“Zay? Zay Rogers?”
I turned and saw Tiana. I didn’t know her well, but we had taken nearly every class together my first two years of high school. Tiana was fine. Short, thick, with a round face, full lips, and a button nose. Her skin was deep mahogany, and in the morning sunlight streaming through the shop window, she looked decadent. She wore some tight-fitting jeans and a gold sweater. Her smile was soft as velvet, even with metal squares on each of her teeth.
“Oh, wow. Hi, Tiana,” I said. “Um, what are you doing here? Is Central out of school today?”
She shook her head, balancing a full cupholder in one hand and a box of donuts in the other. “No, no. I’m missing a day. My grandma just had surgery, so me and my mom came down to look after her. I’m the youngest, so you know—going on the coffee-and-donut run for everybody. But how’s … everything? You look good! I mean, like you’re doing good.” She shifted her weight. “I’ve missed seeing you around.”
“Really?” I said.
Her admission caught me off guard. I never imagined people from Central would miss me. Or even notice I was gone.
“Yes, really!” She laughed. “And little LJ, my God. He can’t wait until you come back. You’re his hero.”
I smiled. “He’s a good kid.”
“Yeah, he is. But hey, I have to get this coffee to my family before it gets cold. I think we’ll come back to check on my grandma from time to time. Maybe we can hang out or something?” Tiana smiled. Her gold nails matched her sweater, and her hand sparkled just like the skin on her face. Some sort of glimmering makeup. I could only catch it when she turned in the light, but it dazzled me each time. A human firework.
“Uh. Oh. Well, I—”
“Or not,” she backtracked. “No pressure or anything. Just … nice seeing a familiar face, you know? How about … you take my number? You can let me know.”
I put Tiana’s number in my phone, hands trembling all the while. We parted ways and I quickly grabbed a couple of donuts before I started back toward Broadlawn. When I made it to first period, I took my usual seat in the back. We had a sub, and I was all caught up on the work, so I focused on finally exploring the contents of the mysterious package. I tore it open, at last, and found a note in Ma’s handwriting.
Xavier,
Since you left, I’ve been thinking of a way to share this with you. I miss you very much. Me and your father are doing well. Catching up. Trying hard to learn each other. Every story has a beginning that usually helps you understand the end. So, here’s one I’ve never told you: our beginning. Got the idea from a friend. Maybe this can reach you in a way that I can’t.
Love,
Ma
I set the note aside and pulled a thick, wire-bound book out of the box. The laminated cover displayed an instant-film photo collage of my parents. It looked similar to the thing she was working on before I left, but these pictures were different. At the center of the collage was a photo I had never seen—my pops in an oversize track jacket, sitting on bleachers, hugging my ma from behind. She latched her hands onto his arms and smiled right into the camera.
A splash of ideas and memories met me on the first page of the book. A scribble here. A doodle there. Jacket buttons sewed down onto the page. A retro movie ticket. Dates, notes, and short captions surrounded an array of relics my ma had saved for all this time, set perfectly together and adorned with vibrant color. While my pops was in jail, bringing him up was about as sure a way as any to put my ma in a bad mood. There were so many things I wanted to know but never asked. I couldn’t believe what I was holding.
I flipped to the next page and found a paragraph printed on copy paper, taped to the center of the page. It was surrounded by more decorations and a sketch of a knight saving a princess from a dragon. The story of Tameka and Keith could transport me from first-period English to a time when my parents were happy. The class-change bell stole the moment, though. I packed up the scrapbook, eager to read more whenever I could. I walked to Mr. G’s math class feeling homesick for the first time since I had left the city for Broadlawn. Sick for a home I had never even known.
* * *
“But it does not make sense, this ‘Rule of Law,’” said Aunt Seggie.
I looked from Aunt Seggie’s stern expression to the totally tattooed whiteboard behind me. I let the dry-erase marker fall from my hand and dramatically flopped to the floor in faux exasperation. It was our second Saturday working together, and though Aunt Seggie had started strong, she was beginning to struggle with several of the civics concepts on the test. In all fairness to her, they didn’t hold up very well to scrutiny.
“You’re killing me, Auntie,” I said.
“Xavier, get off the floor. I am serious! I do not understand. Please explain it again.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay. The Rule of Law is like … an agreement. An understanding between everyone who lives in America about the laws and how they work. With me so far?”
Aunt Seggie nodded. “Yes, I understand this.”
“Great. Now, the Rule of Law says that the laws the government creates apply to everybody. Citizens, political leaders, and even the government itself. So, when you see the question that asks to describe the Rule of Law, that’s all you have to remember.”
Aunt Seggie frowned. “But this is the part that does not make sense. Because this Rule of Law is not real. In Eritrea or America, it does not matter. The leaders and the wealthy—they do not respect the laws. They break them without punishment. And if they believe that they will be punished, they change the laws to their favor.”
“You’re not wrong,” I said. “It’s just—” I took a deep breath.
“You’re right, Auntie. Okay? It isn’t real. But it’s just going to have to be something you pretend to believe so that you can pass your test. This is probably the most important thing about being American that we’ve covered yet: Our country is full of lies and inconsistencies. It’s not always fair. Especially not for us. But if you want to be here, then you’ve gotta smile and act like it is. At least for a little while.”
Aunt Seggie crossed her arms and furrowed her brow. She rocked back and forth gently, nodding as she processed my response. “Now this. This is something that makes sense,” she said.
The alarm on my phone sounded, signaling the end of our session for the day. I collected the mess of papers spread all over the desks in the library study room and erased the white board. The abundance of documents and notes I had printed barely fit into my bag.
“Messy, messty, Xavier,” said Aunt Seggie. “You need a … you know, for the papers.” She made a gesture with her hands that alluded to something I’m positive I had never heard of.
“Yeah, I know, I—” I grunted, stuffing the last of the papers down with a grimace and a smile. “I’ll figure it out.”
Aunt Seggie nodded. “So, how are things with my niece?”
“Aw, come on, Auntie. Give me some time. I’m trying to be patient,” I insisted.
She closed her eyes and shook her head sternly. “That will not do, Xavier. The girl’s whole life is patience. If you want to get her attention, you have to make it exciting. That is the way to win her over.”
“You think so?”
“I am sure. My sister and her husband try to create the perfect daughter with their rules. But Feven does not see how perfect she already is. She needs adventure. She needs a good reason to believe that life is not all about books, and goals, and dreams for the future. Life is about living. Lomi. Not tsibah.”
I rubbed my chin. Adventure. Could I be what Feven needed? I didn’t know. Maybe I could plan a surprise or something. But what if she doesn’t like it? She won’t want to hang with me again if I waste her time.
Aunt Seggie must have noticed my quizzical expression. She softened her gaze and put her hand on my shoulder.
“You are nervous. Don’t be. Trust me. Feven likes you. She thinks you’re cute.”
“Really?! You’re just saying that.”
“Auntie always knows,” she said. “I can get her to talk the same way I get you.” She flashed her signature sly smile again. “Patience is good, like you said. Feven will need patience to soften up. To see life another way. But don’t wait too long! Mealtn kelbe key tsewaekayomyme tsu. Both time and dogs will come, whether you call them or not.”
I smiled, nodded. “I understand, Auntie. Thank you.”
After I waved to Aunt Seggie pulling out of the parking lot, I started back down the trail to Aunt Mel’s house. I fished Ma’s wire-bound scrapbook out of my backpack and immersed myself in the stories again, learning the details of how my parents met for the first time. The struggles they faced. The fun times they shared. How they came together.
