Blood is Thicker

by Paul Langan

  Hakeem swallowed hard. He was stunned, but no one seemed to hear the comment his cousin made. For an instant, he felt his old stutter beginning to seize him. Though the problem was nearly cured, it flared up when he was stressed or nervous. He shook his head and tried to think of a comeback.

  Just then, his little sisters sprinted up to him, grabbing his arm.

  “Mom said for you to unload the trunk,” Charmaine said nervously.

  Savon looked down at them then and laughed. “Oh no, you brought rugrats!” he exclaimed. “Two of them!”

  “We ain’t no rats,” Charlene protested, “so don’t be callin’ us that. ”

  “Don’t get mad, I was just teasin’ you,” Savon said. “You better get used to that ’cause I do a lot of it. ”

  Charlene frowned and moved closer to Hakeem, as if she was looking for protection. He put his hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s okay, Charlene. He’s just playin’, that’s all—”

  “Oh, thank God you made it!” a woman’s voice interrupted. “I been prayin’ ever since you left California!”

  Hakeem turned to see his Aunt Lorraine standing on the porch. She looked heavier than he remembered, but she still had a sweet, round face and a warm, inviting smile.

  “And look at the toothpick they brought with ’em,” Savon laughed, pointing his finger at Hakeem. “Hakeem’s as skinny as he was when we were kids,” he added.

  Hakeem seethed at the comment but smiled out of respect for his aunt.

  “Oh, he’s just fine,” Aunt Lorraine said, waving Savon away with her hand. “And he’s good-looking, too. I bet you had all the girls back home chasin’ after you. ”

  Hakeem blushed and shook his head as she came closer to him. “I do okay,” he said, thinking of Darcy and their painful breakup.

  Savon seemed to be annoyed at his mother’s comment. He frowned and stepped away while she approached.

  “I missed you, Aunt Lorraine,” Hakeem said, giving her a hug.

  “I missed you too, baby. It has been too long. Way too long. I keep telling myself that all this trouble is a blessing in disguise. It’s a way for all of us to get to know each other again. ” Letting him go, she turned her attention to Hakeem’s sisters. “And look at you two!” she cheered, wrapping them both in a massive embrace. “I am so happy to finally see you!”

  Hakeem smiled, nearly forgetting the painful events that had forced them to Detroit.

  “C’mon, Cali-boy. ” Savon’s rough voice jarred him like an alarm clock. “We got work to do. ”

  Chapter 2

  “Let’s get your stuff inside,” Savon said, leading Hakeem to the trunk of the rental car. The rest of the family went into the house, leaving them alone.

  “This all you got?” Savon asked, peering into the trunk and eyeing the suitcases.

  “We put our stuff in storage,” Hakeem said, refusing to admit to his cousin that his parents could not afford to ship all their belongings to Detroit.

  Savon grunted and then hoisted the heaviest suitcase out of the trunk as if it were weightless. Then, he reached for Hakeem’s guitar case.

  “It’s okay, Savon. I’ll take that,” Hakeem said. Savon looked at him curiously for an instant.

  “You’re sharin’ my room, cuz,” Savon said with a smirk. “Whatever is yours has to go up to the third floor. You sure you can handle it? You lookin’ a little broke-down. ”

  Hakeem rolled his eyes. Savon’s comment was bad enough. But the news that he’d have to share a bedroom with him was even worse. “Man, don’t worry about me,” Hakeem grumbled, grabbing his guitar and following his cousin.

  Hakeem was tired when he and Savon finished unloading the car. The trip up three flights of steps made his face wet with perspiration and his arms burn. He tried his best to hide his exhaustion, taking deep breaths when his cousin was not looking. Afterwards, they sat on the front porch drinking orange soda. Hakeem remembered it was Savon’s favorite drink when they were kids.

  “You ain’t worn out from that little bit of liftin’, are you?” Savon asked with a superior grin. “I mean, I feel like we was just gettin’ started. I was ’bout ready to go bench press a couple hundred pounds,” he bragged. “You wanna lift with me?”

  “Man, you didn’t get up at 6:00 a.m. , fly halfway across the country, and leave all your friends behind. I’m tired,” Hakeem admitted.

  “Don’t tell me you’re asking me to feel sorry for you. You don’t even want to go there, not with me. You think I wanna be sharin’ my room with you? Please!” Savon scoffed. He looked genuinely disgusted. Again, Hakeem was caught off guard.

  “Savon, what’s your prob—”

  “Check it out, yo. There go my homeboys,” Savon interjected, jumping out of his chair and rushing off the porch.

  Hakeem watched as his cousin approached a group of guys gathered in the street. Including Savon, there were five of them. One had a Rottweiler which he restrained with a thick leash. The dog seemed friendly, but it looked as if it could devour a small child if it wanted to.

  “Wassup, partnas?” Savon called out as he crossed the street.

  “’Sup, Savon,” answered one of the guys, as he blew a whitish-gray cloud of cigarette smoke into the air.

  “We just wanted to know if you was still down wit’ Friday night?” another guy asked.

  “You know I’m down, Tariq,” Savon asserted. “You think I’m gettin’ soft or somethin’?”

  “We was just checkin’,” the kid answered. “Ain’t nothin’ to get hyped about. ”

  “Oh, you ain’t seen me get hyped!” Savon exclaimed. “Just wait ’til Friday night!”

  The guys laughed. “I just hope we get out ’fore the cops come,” said Tariq, glancing for a second at Hakeem.

  “Man, they ain’t nothin’ to worry about. ”

  Hakeem nearly dropped his soda. Right in front of him, Savon was boasting about something illegal and dangerous. Hakeem tried to listen to the conversation, but a passing truck momentarily masked Savon’s voice.

  Even with the noise, Hakeem could see that his cousin dominated the conversation. Savon was a blur of motion, wildly moving his arms and occasionally punching his fist into the air to emphasize a point. Savon’s friends laughed and nodded at what he was saying.

  “Savon, Hakeem, come inside,” Aunt Lorraine called from inside the house.

  “Yo, I’ll catch up wit’ y’all later on,” Savon said to the group of guys as he headed toward the house.

  “You know where to find us,” one of the guys called out.

  Savon returned to porch and glared at Hakeem. “What was you doin’, listenin’ to every word?”

  “No, I—”

  “That’s what I thought,” Savon snapped. “You didn’t hear nothin’!”

  Aunt Lorraine ushered the family into the modest dining room, where a full spread of food was waiting. There were fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, homemade corn bread, and a pineapple upside down cake. The aroma reminded Hakeem of his visit years earlier. Back then Aunt Lorraine put homemade dishes on the table almost every night. She cooked so much good food that Hakeem’s dad called her “the magician in the kitchen. ”

  “Everybody dig in,” she said, after saying a brief prayer. Then she smiled and heaped a huge spoonful of macaroni onto Hakeem’s plate. “Now I want you all to make yourselves at home. This is how we eat around here. Which is probably why I can’t seem to lose any of this weight,” she chuckled.

  “Are we always gonna have this much food?” Charlene asked.

  “At least until September, baby,” Aunt Lorraine answered, putting a chicken leg on her plate. “One good thing about bein’ a third-grade teacher is that I get my summers off, and when I’m home, I like to cook up a storm, especially when we got guests. ” Lorraine smiled as she talked.

  “So, where’s James?” Hakeem’s father asked. “How come he’s not eating with us?”

  “He ain’t ever here,” Savon said, r
eaching an arm in front of Hakeem to get a piece of chicken.

  “Oh, he’s working,” Aunt Lorraine explained. “I ain’t never known a man that works the way he does. He’s at that furniture store practically from morning ’til night, seven days a week. ”

  “His brother used to be the same way,” Hakeem’s mother said, putting her hand on Dad’s arm. “He was at that job so much I used to call it his ‘second home. ’ We hardly ever saw him with the hours he kept. ”

  “That’s just the way we were brought up. Our dad was from the South, and he told us that the only way a black man can make it in the world was to work harder and smarter than the next guy. So that’s what we did. ”

  “Yeah, well, some kids today don’t seem to know a thing about that lesson,” said Aunt Lorraine, glancing at Savon.

  For an instant, a tense silence swept over the table. Hakeem took a sip of his drink, and Savon grabbed a piece of cornbread. Hakeem’s sisters looked at their parents.

  “James is working late tonight because there was a break-in near the store a few nights ago,” Aunt Lorraine said.

  “A break-in!” Mom exclaimed. “That’s terrible. ”

  “Mmm hmmm,” Aunt Lorraine nodded, swallowing a mouthful of macaroni. “Two stores been robbed on the street in the past month. ”

  “I told him to get a guard dog,” Savon said. “A pit bull or a rottie. That’d keep them thieves away. If he’d just—”

  “Hush your mouth, boy,” Aunt Lorraine snapped. “You always talkin’ nonsense. He don’t need no guard dog down there, but what he could use right now is some extra help. ” Aunt Lorraine glared at Savon as she spoke.

  “Mom, I told you. I ain’t got time for the store right now,” Savon said.

  “But you got time for them friends of yours, right?”

  Savon slouched back in his chair for a second and crossed his arms.

  “Well, Hakeem and I are glad to pitch in,” Dad suggested, breaking the tension. “Looks like we got plenty of time now. ”

  “It’s the least we can do,” Dad continued, looking at Hakeem. “As soon as I get my strength back, I’d love to help James out. Lord knows I could use the exercise. But Hakeem could pitch in right away. Maybe tomorrow if James needed him, right, Hakeem?”

  Hakeem felt the eyes of everyone at the table focus on him. He’d never thought about working with his uncle, but now he realized he had no choice.

  “Yeah, sure,” Hakeem said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll help out. ”

  Suddenly, Savon turned to Hakeem’s father and stood up. “Yo, do you all mind if I excuse myself?” he asked. “I got some calls to make, and I want to get the room ready for Mr. Cali over here. ”

  “But Savon,” Aunt Lorraine protested, “we have guests—”

  “It’s all right, Lorraine,” Dad said. “Let him do what he’s gotta do. Savon’ll be seeing a lot of us. ”

  Savon was already on his way up the stairs by the time Dad finished talking. Aunt Lorraine shook her head as the thud of Savon sprinting up the steps faded in the distance.

  “You’ll have to ignore your nephew, Henry. Most times his mouth works faster than his mind does. ”

  “It’s all right,” Dad replied. “I was sixteen once. That’s just part of the territory. ”

  “But I really worry about him, Henry,” Aunt Lorraine said. “I wish he had his act together like you, Hakeem. ” She reached over and patted Hakeem’s forearm as she spoke. “We keep tellin’ Savon about how well you’ve done in school and how you help out the family, but he just doesn’t want to listen these days. ”

  Hakeem smiled blankly, hiding his growing discomfort. During the rest of the meal, he listened as the adults talked. But his mind kept drifting back to Savon and the mysterious conversation that happened outside.

  What were they planning for Friday night? he wondered.

  If it was anything like it sounded, Aunt Lorraine had good reason to worry.

  “This is my room,” barked Savon as soon as Hakeem walked into the small bedroom, “and you’re just a guest. So, remember not to mess wit’ any of my stuff. ”

  Hakeem nodded and walked to the far corner of the room, where his belongings were piled. Savon was stretched out on his bed leafing through a wrinkled magazine. He flipped through rapidly, skipping pages that did not contain pictures.

  How am I gonna live here with him? Hakeem thought to himself as he looked around.

  The floor of the small bedroom was cluttered with sneakers, piles of clothing, and stacks of CD’s. A small desk with a clip-on lamp sat in one corner of the room next to Savon’s bed. An empty Coke bottle, a stereo, a tiny cactus, and a pile of magazines took up nearly all of the desk space. A full-length mirror was attached to the back of the bedroom door, and posters of hip-hop artists covered most of the walls. One even covered the closet door. The posters reminded Hakeem of the music store at the mall back home. The store was so loud and crowded that it usually gave him a headache.

  The only thing Hakeem was happy to see was a window located at the foot of Savon’s bed. The window was open, and a breeze cut some of the heat that filled the room. A second single bed with a black metal frame and a bowed mattress lined the far wall. Diagonally across from it was a chest of drawers and a lamp. Hakeem figured the empty bed was his. Without a word, he piled his stuff on the mattress, sat down, and took a deep breath.

  Somehow the cramped room made him feel even further from home. A heavy wave of sadness spread over him. If only I could have stayed at Coop’s, Hakeem thought to himself.

  “What’s the matter?” Savon asked, interrupting his thoughts. “You expectin’ a palace or somethin’? This ain’t good enough for you? No sunshine? No beaches?”

  “Savon, you need to chill,” Hakeem said, raising his voice.

  “Don’t tell me what I need to do,” Savon hissed. “I don’t need to hear that from nobody, especially you. You don’t know nothin’ about me or what I need. ”

  Hakeem glared at Savon. His pulse suddenly began to throb in his neck.

  “Savon, what’s your p-p-problem?!” Hakeem snapped, his stutter surfacing uncontrollably. “I haven’t done anything to you, and all I get from you is s-s-static. ”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Savon said, his jaw dropping. “Is that a stutter I hear? I guess you ain’t so perfect after all. ”

  Hakeem squeezed his hands into fists and took a deep breath. He knew the only way to stop the stutter was to relax.

  “Uh-oh. Are you getting mad too?” Savon challenged, putting his magazine down. “You oughta be careful. This ain’t California. ”

  “Man, what’s your problem? You keep acting like I did something to you when you know I didn’t. Besides, we’re family. We ain’t supposed to be this way. ”

  Savon winced for an instant, as if the words stung. “Oh, so now you’re trying to tell me how I’m supposed to be too? I don’t need no advice, cuz. Not from you, Dad, or anyone. And what you need is a speech doctor. I gotta bounce,” Savon muttered bitterly, tossing aside his magazine.

  Before Hakeem could reply, Savon rose from his bed, grabbed a baseball cap, and walked out. “Leave my stuff alone,” he barked as he descended the steps.

  The room was suddenly quiet. Hakeem leaned back on the crooked mattress and stared at the ceiling. He had never missed home more.

  Out here, in strange places,

  nowhere to hide,

  don’t know where my space is.

  Out there, you walk alone

  miles between us

  I can’t come home.

  Some day, who knows when,

  if fates allow

  we’ll meet again.

  Hakeem penned the words into his journal and read them. They were for his friends and the home he left behind. But most of all, they were for Darcy. As he read, he imagined how she’d react to Savon.

  “Why are you acting like some hardcore gangster?” she would say. “Muscles and jewelry don’t make y
ou better than anyone else. ” The image of her scolding Savon made Hakeem smile, but it also made him homesick.

  Savon had been gone for more than an hour, and in that time, Hakeem had finished unpacking his few things. After sitting briefly with his family, he grabbed his guitar and journal and sat on the back step as the daylight faded away.

  Back home, he would watch sunsets with Darcy and their friends. They would laugh and talk about their fears and plans for the future, but never in all those evenings did his fears include Dad’s cancer or moving away. Never did he picture that he’d end up in Detroit with his angry cousin.

  Hakeem closed his journal and gently picked up his guitar. The sky was almost completely black, and a cool breeze drifted through his uncle’s small backyard. The guitar’s neck was smooth and familiar in Hakeem’s hand.

  He played a sad melody that matched his mood. The music comforted him, making him feel as if he had a close friend next to him, one that understood everything he was experiencing. Losing himself, Hakeem leaned into the guitar as he played, making it speak his mind, vent his anger, voice his frustration. His fingers ached when he finally stopped playing, but he felt relieved.

  Then he heard someone clapping.

  In the yard next door, Hakeem spotted a young woman watching him. For an instant, he was frozen.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling warmly. “Don’t stop playing. It’s really nice. ”

  Hakeem blushed. He had not been playing a song. He’d played his private feelings. Knowing that she had been watching him made him suddenly feel naked. He tried to think of a song to play, but his mind went blank.

  “I didn’t realize I had an audience,” he said, taking his fingers off the strings. “How long have you been . . . watching me?”

  “Just a few minutes. I was really enjoying the show. ”