Short-Shorts are popping up here NOW!
(Short-Shorts are longer than flash, but shorter than short stories)
When
Brotha’s Talk
“What’s
the deal bruh? Man, I heard you was off
there with Becky, and got caught all up! Bruh, bruh...say it ain’t so!” Marvin reeled back on the concrete step, arms
outstretched with a huge smile on his face, and burst into laughter.
Rasheed walked up to him with the morning sun
beaming down on the busy city block. The
neighborhood was unusually hot, and the block appeared ripe with
pedestrians.
“Oh, ok, here we go! I should have known I was going to be gettin’
the business from you, so come on.
What’s good baby boy?” Rasheed extended his hand with a smile, gave
Marvin a bro hug, and sat next to him on the concrete steps. Marvin adjusted comfortably one step up from
Rasheed then began.
“Word on the street bruh is
that you poked Becky. Folks said they’d seen y’all together, annnnd that she
had a round tummy. What the bid-ness on
that, mister black man, mister, I’ll never date a white woman, mister, uh,
doctor Umar Johnson?!” Rasheed knew
Marvin was joking, but with a hint of honest confrontation, it stung slightly.
“Yeah, that was me, or rather
still is, and hey man, hey, her name is Samantha. I’m still down for black
people, I know racism exist, but hey, shit happened. So yeah, what ‘the people’ are saying,” he
continued using air quotes, “is correct.
But only to a certain extent.”
Rasheed looked off to the side
somewhat uncomfortably. He knew this day
would come, part of him didn’t want to deal with it. He didn’t like confrontation, he didn’t like
his “blackness” to be questioned.
“You got any of that special
morning coffee?” Rasheed asked, and cocked his head toward his friend. Marvin
nodded with a smirk, reached behind him and handed Rasheed a thick silver
thermos.
“Oh, Samantha huh?” Marvin said
rubbing his chin while Rasheed took a swig. “So like, what, you just ran up in
her all raw dog, and was like oh shit,
now I gotta’ baby,” he finished with a chuckle and big grin.
“Well, sort of. We were working at the same gig, and like we
knew each other, but didn’t want to cross that work, romance line--”
“Romance? Really bruh romance?
Get the hell out of here with that romance nonsense. Bruh I know you. Nigga--I know you!”
“Do you want to hear the story
or not?” replied an animated Rasheed.
“Yes nigga,” sighed
Marvin. “And give me my drink back,” he
said and snatched the thermos from Rasheed.
“Well in any case, after I left
that hospital gig, and started working at the
school--”
“You mean when you got fired
because that little girl got hurt--”
“Nigga! We ain’t even talkin’ bout that!”
“Ok, ok, true, true, brotha,
please, carry-on. I believe you were
talking about leaving the hospital gig.”
“Yeah, right. So, I left there,
got the new gig, but was still getting texts from some of the people I had
worked with. And lo and behold Samantha had texted me one afternoon saying
she’d seen my car in her apartment parking lot.
Said she’d just moved into the complex and wanted to know if we was
neighbors. Well long story short, she was my neighbor, we had some drinks,
hell, we had a lot of drinks, and nine months later, a baby popped out.”
Marvin looked at him
inquisitively, the story and understanding of his friend didn’t quite sit well
with him.
“But
she’s white homie. And ‘Sheed, I been
knowing you since jr. high, And you said you’d neee-ver, never ever, ever ever,
date a white chick, much less have a baby with one. So what’s the deal, did the world suddenly
just run out of black women to date? What, you couldn’t find a good queen to put your seed in? Brotha, you
got to help me understand, because this just ain’t makin’ sense to ya’
boy.”
As he finished Rasheed ran his
hand across his stubble and looked out onto the neighborhood of the city. He looked over and saw two youth, one a
Hispanic boy, and the other a lanky Black child with sleepy eyes. Everyone in the neighborhood knew these kids,
they were Mental and Drip, two kids who’d been on the run from Social
Services. Two kids who had no parents,
who had issues, who abused drugs, didn’t go to school, had no pot to pee in nor
window to throw it out of. Rasheed
stared at them as they stood in the shadows of the alley.
“How can I date a white girl?
It’s easy, we’re human. Marvin,” Rasheed sighed, “I’m damn near 40 years
old. I was raised by two loving smart
black parents, good people. And they
taught me to love myself, love my black self, and to love others. I’m no better than the next person, and the
next person ain’t no better than me. I’ve
dated black women, had good relations with most. But the thing that kept me from committing
was coming in second.”
“Huh? What, what you mean
comin’ in second,” questioned Marvin.
“I mean every black woman I’ve
dated had kids. Yeah, sure, I went to a
HBCU and maybe should have found a good one there, but I didn’t. It wasn’t in
God’s plan. I was on the fence about having kids and a family. I wanted a woman, not a ready made family.
Every woman that I dated had kids, and with kids comes a baby daddy, or a
ex-husband, or some little ankle biter that I didn’t create, but I had to deal
with. I was always second behind the
child. For once I wanted to be on an equal ground with the woman in my life. So when Samantha came along, it felt right.
She was similar in my age, we had things in common, we’re both old as shit, and
now, we’re both happy parents.” He
paused and pointed across the street, “And we won’t be raising little bad as
bastards like those two in the alley.”
The two sat in silence and
watched the cars roll by. They passed
the morning brew between them. Each feeling warm from the brew and the sun. The
men felt comfortable, comfortable in their skin, comfortable in their
respective situations.
“So tell me this then ‘Sheed,
how this broad gonna’ be there for your black
self. What you gonna do when you get
called a nigga at work, or can’t find work, because they don’t hire Rasheed’s, what you gonna’ do then? You gonna’ leave the broad?”
“You know Marvin, the funny
thing about stuff like that, is my child. I can look at her, and know that I
can deal with anything, just to stay by her side. They have always said that Black fathers are
like unicorns or Bigfoot--we don’t exist. Well anytime I come up on a rough
situation, I just think about the day that my child will know Black dads are
not unicorns, and she’ll know, because I ain’t missin’ no days.”
“So you ain’t leavin’ the broad
then huh?” Marvin questioned a final time with a smirk. Rasheed got up from the step, dusted himself
off and extended his hand to Marvin.
“Naw, bruh, but you’re always
welcome to stop by, and see what happiness looks like.”
“I may just do that soon, bruh.
But if I do, you better do the cookin’! You be good now, al’ight.” Rasheed started down the block, and yelled
back, “yeah’ bruh, I’ll do that, stay up!”
Marvin looked around the block, and thought, still busy.
Cars rolling along, kids out in the street, knowin’ they need to be in
somebody’s school. This shit, just don’t
stop. That fool over there is shootin’
up in the shadows again. I guess we all
gotta take care of each other. Maybe
that’s what Rasheed was sayin’ the whole time.
Marvin started walking across the street to
where the two youth were standing and shooting up in the shadows.
“Dammit, Mental, dammit,
Drip! I done told y’all about comin’
round here and shootin’ up. Y’all just some kids, lemme holla at
‘cha". The city remained hot, the
pedestrians kept walking, busses roared up and down the block, while dogs
barked in the distance.
It was the city, always moving, always changing;
evolution was always its keen focus.
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