by Tiana Laveen
“It’s a swastika. I have one on each side.”
“I know what the fuck it is.” He spat angrily onto the ground, yet still maintained their half broken gaze. “You are exactly who I thought you were… a white boy who see all black people as niggas…like we beneath you. Fuck you, man.” He got to his feet and pulled at his headset until he had the ear buds properly placed. The beat of the music began to throb loud and hard; so much so, Aaron felt it vibrating within him as well.
“Wait!” Aaron called out, competing with the music volume. “Don’t judge me by what you see…by my tattoos or even what you’ve heard. You don’t know me, you don’t know my story, you don’t know shit about me.”
“What story, man?” The man snatched the ear buds back out his ears, but the music carried on. “You ain’t gotta story I’m tryna hear, okay?! All you mothafuckas are alike, you know that? The only white boy I fucks wit’ is Paul Wall and if you don’t mind, I’m about to finish listening to his song right about now.”
The rage in the man’s tone was not one he was unfamiliar with; matter of fact, he knew it all too well.
“Marcus, give me a few minutes. That’s all I ask. Just talk to me for a second or two.”
“Is it minutes or seconds? Make up yo’ mind but it ain’t no damn matter because I ain’t givin’ you nothin’. Go find some crosses to burn, march around wavin’ racist signs in front of churches, start a race war and all that other bullshit you all like to do.”
“You look like the kinda man that’s marked, Marcus…” Aaron smirked.
“What are you talking about, marked?”
“You haven’t chosen… If you aren’t part of a group, the guys in here will start huntin’ you, making you choose. I can take care of that problem for you, make it all disappear, go away. You like to be by yourself? It can stay that way; all I have to do is say the word.”
“Yeah, like your ass is going to tell a mothafucka to leave my black ass alone.”
“I don’t have to do it that way. There are other ways to make sure you get the protection you need. Now, I think that’s a pretty good deal, especially since all I want is a little conversation.”
“Don’t nobody up in here just want a little conversation. You full of shit, man.”
“I’m not tryna arrange that you get jumped, not tryna get favors, none of that shit … What I told you was the truth.”
“And what’s that?”
“My girlfriend doesn’t agree with my ways, so to speak. She wants me to try something else, something new. I’m coming to you, man to man. That’s it; nothing more, nothing less.”
“What does she want you to do?”
“Just talk… have a conversation with you.”
“You only doin’ this for some pussy.”
Aaron smirked, nodded and looked around. His brethren were now taking peeks at him… “Yeah, I’m doin’ it for some pussy – no sense in me acting as if that’s not part of this. But also because I want to do it now. I’m curious. Just ten minutes…that’s all I ask.”
The man stood there surveying him up, close and personal, and then his eyes got all shiny and his lips curved in a smile.
“I’mma give you a quiz. If you pass it, I’ll sit down and talk wit’ you. If you fail, I’m walkin’ away.”
“What kind of test?” Aaron raised a brow.
“You gotta answer three questions and I guarantee you that you’ll get ’em wrong. Ain’t no way you’d know the answers.”
Aaron sported a fiendish grin. Always in the mood for a dare, he took the shit on.
“Let’s do it…”
“Alright, alright,” The man nodded and slid his mp3 player into his pocket. “Here goes the first question – When was Martin Luther King born?”
“Martin Luther King, Jr.? The Black Civil Rights Activist?”
“Yeah, man. Who tha fuck else would I be talkin’ about?!”
“Well, there’s more than one Martin Luther King. Never mind,” Aaron scoffed and shook his head. “January 15th. He was born on January 15th.”
Marcus’ smile faded, his illusions of taking him down starting to crumble and causing his expression to deflate like a withered balloon. “You just got lucky with that. What year, man?”
“Is this my second question or part of the first?”
“You ain’t answer it completely. Part of the first…”
Aaron thought for a moment. “1927…no! 1929… Yeah, it was 1929.”
Marcus tilted his head in confusion then nodded. A few more seconds passed.
“That’s funny… okay, okay, here’s the second question. Name one of Malcolm X’s children. I’mma enjoy this!”
“Really?” Aaron laughed lightly.
“Yeah, really.” Marcus did a chin cheek, certain he’d won their little game.
“I can give you all their names.” Aaron began to count off his fingers. “Qubilah Shabazz, Ilyasah Shabazz, Attallah Shabazz, Malikah Shabazz, Gamilah Lumumba Shabazz, and Malaak Shabazz.” Aaron slicked his tongue out of his mouth and licked his lips, putting on a smug expression.
“What tha fuck?!” Marcus burst out laughing. “Man! That’s crazy! How’d you know that?!”
“…I know a lot of stuff. Now, can we end this quiz and just talk?”
“Nah, man.” He shook his head. “One more!” He put his finger up. “Now, I know you won’t get this one. ‘What’s Juneteenth?’”
“It’s from Texas… General Gordon Granger stated that the slaves were free and—”
“Alright!” The man raised a hand to stop him and looked as if he were mad as hell. “What in the world? What Nazi knows this shit?! Who tha fuck are you, man?” He sat again, visibly defeated yet surprised – with a touch of being impressed, too.
“People been askin’ me that a lot lately.” He removed a cigarette from his pocket, waved one of the guards over. “Can you light this for me, Irvin?” The guard did as asked and walked away. Out of the corner of his eye, he observed Marcus stare with yearning, wanting…
Leverage…
“They let you smoke out here?” Marcus said in disbelief.
“Yeah.” Aaron nodded then took a puff from the thing. “So, what are you in here for?”
“Some ridiculous home invasion, a burglary. I wasn’t in the house; I was driving the car. Just stupid, man…” The guy looked down at the ground, a definite expression of remorse. He sighed and kicked at the tiny pebbles on the ground. For a split second, it almost felt as if they’d forgotten who they were. As if they’d known each other for years, and were simply catching up on old times.
Aaron nodded in understanding and studied Marcus. His skin, his ears, the purplish color of his lips, his thick, dark eyebrows, the small scar by his chin… all of it.
“You know.” Aaron leaned back, his eyes hooded as he became a bit tired. “Some people just don’t belong here. You kinda look like one of those people. Am I right?”
“I ain’t never been in any legal trouble, man. I fucked myself up real good… real good.”
“What happened?” More smoky circles escaped the side of his mouth as he listened to the man, and more importantly, watched him. The guy appeared suddenly nervous as he related the details. He cracked his damn knuckles again and again, his movements real twitchy, and looking about as if unsure where to rest his eyes.
“I agreed to do some shit to help my friend out, and now…” He looked up at the sky. “I’m in here. Family is strugglin’. Lost a good job, too… I worked with computers, I.T. for a good company.”
“How long is your sentence?”
“I got one year. My parole will last five years, not including time served. I got screwed! Never had no trouble, never done shit, and I ain’t have no gun, nothin’…”
“One year isn’t too bad.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been told, but white guys with these same charges have gotten less, much less.” He huffed and tapped his foot angrily against the ground. “They say, l
ike you, I got off easy. That it’s because I cooperated and didn’t have a record, but the repercussions will last forever. I ain’t never even had a damn speeding ticket. I gotta wife and kid, too,” he said dismally. “I don’t know how I’m going to take care of my family when I get outta here. There ain’t no jobs out here, man.” The guy looked around, so forlorn and lost. “And a black man with a record, ain’t nobody tryna hire me, man. Only thing that keeps me goin’ is my wife and child, my little girl.”
“I have a daughter, too.” Aaron smiled sadly as his thoughts drifted to images of Laura.
We’re both locked up. We both have children we miss…
“Does she know what you do?”
Aaron looked at him for a minute and waved the guard over again. Irvin sauntered to them, his bloated face ruddy from the hot sun as sweat meandered down the side of his neck.
“You want one?” Aaron removed a cigarette from his pocket and handed it to Marcus.
“Yeah man… I’ll take it. You ain’t gettin’ nothing back in return, dough. My cousin schooled me on all this shit.”
Aaron smirked and nodded. “I told you I don’t roll like that.”
Irvin lit the cigarette for the man and walked away once more.
Both men sat there, side by side, blowing out circles of smoke for a good while. The shit framed their bodies as the heat from the sun bathed them. The sun didn’t discriminate; it would burn everyone up without a care in its fiery world. He shot him another glance out the corner of his eye, and then another.
“Why you keep starin’ at me?” Marcus asked as he placed the cigarette back up to his lips.
“Because I’m forcing myself to notice our differences,” Aaron replied as he flicked hot cinders into the clear ashtray.
“You already know our differences, and that’s why you got the mentality you got.”
Aaron nodded. “You have some of the same problems as me though… You miss your daughter.”
“Yeah.” The man took another puff of his cigarette and blew out smoke as he looked straight ahead. “Miss my baby.”
“You have any questions for me?” Aaron asked, not really caring, but not wishing for the shit to be one sided.
“I have no idea how a white man becomes racist in a country that caters to your ass… That shit is mindboggling to me, man.” The guy shook his head on a bitter chuckle. “That’s like a goddamn dog starting a protest at a dog food convention, complainin’ cats are in attendance, too, but the food… the damn bounty,” he stretched his arms out real wide as if indicating a feast before him, “IS ALL FOR THEM!”
“That’s not what’s going on, Marcus. That’s not what this is about.”
“Man.” He took another drag of his cigarette. “That’s exactly what the hell this is about. Y’all confused as hell. My people were brought over here as slaves, to work against our will, yet you white racist people call black folk lazy. Ain’t that some shit?!”
“Yeah, it’s some shit alright, Marcus.” He couldn’t curb the sarcasm from his tone, even if he’d tried.
“You all didn’t want to do your own labor, and you wanted free employment at that!” The man laughed mirthlessly. “Say somethin’! Shit! I know you want to say some smart-ass shit to this, so we can get to fightin’ and carryin’ on. I dare you to have a real debate with a real man, Aaron. I know what you thought this was gonna be, me bowin’ down or some shit. I ain’t bowin’ down to you and nobody else up in this bitch.”
“I don’t want to fight with you, Marcus. I’m just trying to listen is all. I’ve been doin’ a lot of talking. It’s my job to talk, actually. I’m just trying to hear what you’re sayin’ is all. But, if you want to talk about that, we can. Shit, no problem. Is that what you want?”
“Hell yeah, that’s what the fuck I want. And I’ll tell you why.” He turned more towards him, looked him square in the eye. “It ain’t because I think you care, but it’s because it ain’t every day I get to sit down with a motherfuckin’ Nazi Warlock, White Nationalist President, Governor of the pale skins or whatever the hell you are, and shoot the shit.”
Aaron laughed lightly and leisurely tapped more ash into the ashtray. “Okay. Well, in regard to slavery, your people, as you say – your ancestors – were actually the ones selling y’all to white people, first. Slavery began in Africa, but I usually only hear denial about that fact, or people skatin’ around the issue ’cause it’s less convenient, takes a bit of the victimization out of the equation.”
“Yeah, I know that, but here’s the difference. They thought that shit was like indentured servitude. They ain’t know it was forever and we’d be workin’ twenty hour shifts, being beatin’, raped, castrated, hung, bred out like goddamn cattle, and killed.”
“Why do you think all of that is true? How do you know this?” Aaron rolled his tongue around in his mouth as he relaxed a bit, grew more comfortable.
“Here we go wit’ this bullshit! You one of them people denyin’ the Holocaust ever happened too, ain’t you? I’ll tell you how I know. The same way you know that Africans were selling us to whites: I read and I watch. I’ve got knowledge!” The man tapped the side of his head as he glared at him. “I observe. You probably looked at me and thought, ‘That nigga in here for sellin’ drugs,’ some shit like that, didn’t you? What? You thought I was stupid because I’m black? I ain’t stupid, man. I did a dumb thing, but I ain’t stupid. And I know the difference between the Klan, fuckers like you and everybody else. I just like to say shit, poke fun, ’cause at the end of the day all of y’all is doin’ fucked up shit!”
“I didn’t know if you were stupid or not. It didn’t matter to me either way though… but yeah.” Aaron shook his head in a lackadaisical fashion as that tongue of his rolled over to the other side of his mouth, tasting a bit of something that needed to be rinsed away with strong mouthwash. “I figured it was some drug charges. You’re not stupid though. I can see that now.”
“Well, I’m glad I passed your high-class intelligence test.” The man rolled his eyes, twisted his dark lips up in a bunch. “It woulda hurt me somethin’ awful if Aaron Mr. White Nazi Man of the free world didn’t like me, would have ruined my whole goddamn day.” The man’s eyes grew dark as he took a strong, hard toke from his cigarette and blew out a foggy gust of smoke.
“Africa is a shit hole… In some ways, my ancestors did you all a favor.”
“Really? Is that so?” The man smirked as he shot him a glance from the corner of his eye. “You an expert on Africa now, huh? You probably seen a couple of National Geographic programs, read a few articles ’nd shit about apartheid and all that shit, and seen the news about Kenyan kidnappings, then made up your mind. Last I checked, ain’t no country or continent all paved wit’ gold. I ain’t never been to no damn Africa and I’m fuckin’ sure you ain’t been either, but let’s say that’s true, right?”
“Yeah.” Aaron ran his tongue over his lower lip, trying to snuff a smirk. He abhorred how he now appreciated Marcus’ anger. Why? he asked himself.
Questioning my motives… questioning my reactions…
Questioning…
Questioning…
Questioning…
“I don’t see yo’ ass runnin’ back to England or wherever the fuck you goddamn cave dwellers came from. England, Europe period, ain’t too appealin’ to you right about now either or your ass would already be back there sippin’ tea and screamin’ ’bout everything being bloody. Oh, and talking about cereal.”
“Cereal?”
“Yeah… Cheerio, mothafucka! I got just as much right to be here as you, so suck it up, deal wit’ it.”
“Yeah… I have no plans to go anywhere. I’m not leavin’ this country, at least not anytime soon.” Aaron placed the cigarette back to his lips and took a slow drawl, rolling around in his own gummed-up thoughts, getting sticky from it all. “So how’s it been going here for you?”
“You ask that like we on goddamn vacation.”
Aaron
stifled a comeback.
“How you think it’s been goin’ for me, huh? Things been fucked up since I got here. On top of it all, I think my wife is cheatin’ on me.” The man’s smile quickly faded, leaving behind a dull sadness in his eyes.
“Why do you think that?”
“She don’t come up to visit no mo’. My friends aren’t really talking to me no more, either… now that they can’t use me for shit. It’s funny how people’s true colors show after something like this happens.”
Aaron hummed in agreement as he took another drawl from his cigarette.
“I got family in here, so some of these guys cut me some slack, but, I try to keep to myself. Too much trouble… trouble all around… Just want to serve my time, man… just serve my time and leave.”
“Yeah, that’s the best plan. Stick to that.” Aaron leaned forward, feet spread far apart as he rocked a bit in his seat.
“So what’s this supposed to do, man? This conversation? Ya girl want you to talk to a black man? That’s crazy.” The guy smirked and shook his head in disbelief. “Like I’m Paul Mooney or some shit… You ain’t gonna change, you’ll be the same mothafucka before I sat down here as when I leave.” He flicked ashes to the side, his brows bunched as he chewed on his own words.
The same… never changing… never growing. Is that me? Is that really me? When they ask who I am, is that the answer?
The simple words thumped Aaron on the damn head, like a fallen acorn from an oak tree. Something was clicking… something was changing. He wasn’t certain what it was, but it had all began with Dr. Owens, and continued with the likes of a black man, who for all intents and purposes appeared scared out of his damn mind… and that man he felt compassion for, yet, he barely knew him…
“I don’t know. I can’t say,” was all Aaron could muster.
“You know what really pisses me off about how my life is right now?”
“What?”
“I knew better, man. I was raised in Mountain Brook.”
“Mountain Brook?”
Aaron leaned a bit closer, his interest definitely piqued. Mountain Brook was a nice place to live, a suburb in Birmingham with sweet appeal. It was a place he’d heard about a time or two as a kid, even driven through as an adult.
