Black Buck

by Mateo Askaripour

  When I realized it was Sunday, I got dressed and walked to the church. Dozens of men and women sat in the pews. Mr. Rawlings sat in the front row across the aisle from me. Since Ma and I didn’t have any living relatives, I was alone. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  Rhett, Frodo, Marissa, and Eddie were standing there. I asked them to sit next to me, and Rhett held my hand, not letting go.

  Before the sermon began, Soraya, Mr. Aziz, Jason, and Wally Cat took a seat next to Mr. Rawlings. Jason looked at me and turned away after our eyes met. Soraya rested her head on Mr. Aziz’s shoulder, crying as she stared at the casket.

  After we buried Ma at the gravesite, a few women tried pushing food on me and said they’d like to come over to talk. I declined. I didn’t know these people and certainly didn’t want to entertain them back at the house. Instead, I hopped into an Uber SUV with Rhett and the other Sumwunners and headed home.

  “Sorry, bud,” Rhett said, gripping my knee as we sat in the living room.

  “Yeah, I’m real sorry,” Frodo said, stuffing his face with something.

  Marissa cut her eyes at him. “Where’d you get that?”

  “I heard some of the women discussing all the food they made, so I offered to bring a few trays over so, you know, it didn’t go to waste.”

  I went up to my bedroom and collapsed onto my bed. I felt grateful for the Sumwunners being there, but I was exhausted.

  There was a knock at the door. It’s probably Frodo with a plate of food. I told him to come in.

  But when the door opened, it was Soraya standing there in a long-sleeved black dress, staring at me. “Why haven’ you been pickin’ up your phone?” she asked, sitting on the bed next to my legs.

  “My phone broke,” I said, unable to look at her. I wanted her to leave.

  “So why didn’ you come by the shop? Why did I have to hear about all of this from Jason, who had to hear it from Wally Cat?”

  “You’re seriously goin’ to fuckin’ press me? Now?”

  She stared at her lap. “You’re right. I’m sorry, D. About all of this. But what are these people doin’ here?” she asked, pointing toward the door. “You didn’ even invite me, my dad, Jason, or Wally Cat over. And Mr. Rawlings was outside with empty boxes sayin’ you’re kickin’ him out. After all these years, you’re gonna do him like that?”

  “It’s not your problem,” I said, unfazed.

  She moved closer. “Look me in the eye.”

  “For what?”

  “Because I wanna see who I’m lookin’ at. I wanna see who you are today.”

  “Not this fuckin’ shit again.” I stood up, walked into the bathroom, and slammed the door.

  She yanked it open. “Look me in the eye,” she repeated, wiping dark watery streaks from her cheeks.

  “What?” I faced her. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

  “I want you back!” she shouted. “The real you! The you who promised me you wouldn’ change no matter what happened. But here you are, lookin’ like someone I don’t recognize, like someone Mrs. V wouldn’ know.”

  I gripped the sink so tightly, I swore the porcelain would crack. So many thoughts were racing through my head: the first time Soraya and I kissed; Ma and me at the park when I was younger; Jason shoving shaved ice down my back one summer; Nicole, Brian, and Carlos at Starbucks; everything that existed before Sumwun. But I couldn’t go back to who I was. Not now.

  “Fuck you,” I said, staring her in the eyes. “Fuck you, Soraya.”

  “Don’ say that, D. Please don’ say that.”

  I pushed her away, repeating it. Again. And again. Louder. And louder. She couldn’t wipe her eyes fast enough as she rushed out of the bathroom toward the bedroom door.

  “If you walk out on me again, Soraya,” I said, as she paused at the threshold of my room, “we’re done.”

  She gripped the doorknob tighter, exposing the whites of her knuckles, and inhaled deeply. “I know that, D,” she said, and pulled the door shut behind her.

  19

  “Darren, baby, this is your mother,” Ma said on the voice mail. Her voice was shaky. I could tell it was hard for her to speak. Her lungs whistled like a creaky wheel after every few words. “I’m sorry, Dar. So sorry for everything. And I know you’re mad, but please call back when you can. I’m not feelin’ too good, so I called an ambulance like I promised. I love you.”

  I played the voice mail over and over again throughout the night. After everyone had left, I went out for a new phone and anxiously transferred my old SIM card, wondering what I would find. Every time I listened to it, it felt like someone was twisting a knife in a wound that would never heal. And I can tell you, even now, writing about this years later, the wound is still as fresh as it was when she first died.

  Without any sleep, I rolled out of bed on Monday, got dressed, and walked down the stairs into the kitchen with my eyes closed, hoping that, somehow, she would be there when I opened them. But I already knew what I’d find. There was no smell of coffee, no humming, no sound of Ma’s slippers padding across the floor. No Ma.

  Not wanting to give up, I walked downstairs, took a breath, and knocked on her bedroom door, praying she’d be inside, curled to the side of her bed and coughing, but still there. No answer. “Ma,” I said, slowly opening the door, my fingers repeating the motion they’d made thousands of times, my mind not even contemplating that she wouldn’t be there. But when I opened the door, all I saw were crumpled bedsheets with blood on the pillow she always slept on; a half-drunk glass of water on her bedside table with the faint print of her lips still there; her TV remote on the other side of her bed; all of her favorite books on the shelves, right where she left them, waiting to be held.

  “Ma,” I repeated, lying down on her side of the bed, grabbing fistfuls of her sheets and bringing them close to my face. They absorbed the tears I hadn’t realized I was releasing. “Please come back, Ma. I’ll be better, I promise.”

  Lying in her bed, I pressed play on the voice mail again and listened to her words, trying to travel back through time to figure out how this all happened so quickly, but I already knew. Darren, baby, this is your mother.

  When I went back upstairs and reentered the kitchen, I noticed two envelopes sitting on the table with my name written on them in Ma’s handwriting. I had seen them when I got back on Friday, but I still hadn’t opened them. I took a breath, lowered myself into a seat, and grabbed one. I sighed with relief when I realized that it was the unsigned contract to sell. Ma hadn’t gone through with it. The house was still ours.

  In the second envelope I found a letter written by Ma. The letters dragged up and down like a jagged line graph. I held it tightly.

  My Dearest Darren,

  Baby, I know you’re hurt. Hurt because I never told you. Hurt because we had to lose each other this way. And hurt because life has been hard for you lately, and the world hasn’t made it easier for you. A mother’s love for her son is endless, and I decided that the best way for me to show my love to you was by hiding my own pain even if it hurts you now. I didn’t want it to become a burden to you on your own journey.

  From the day I brought you home from the hospital, you’ve been my guiding light, Dar. After your father died, I had no one to turn to except you and God, and seeing your smiling face greet me every morning was what kept me alive. In the same way I gave you life, son, you gave me life, too.

  Darren, I want you to know that I am proud of you, that I’ve always been. No matter if you were working at Starbucks or at Sumwun, you’ve always been my proudest accomplishment and you always will be. You were born to lead, son, not follow. And I want you to remember to stay true to yourself and help others like you live the best life they can. It’s the duty of every man and woman who has achieved some success in life to pass it on, because when we’re gone, what matters most isn’t what we were able to attain but who we were able to help.

  I’ll always be with you, baby. Never forget that. And wh
en the world beats you down, when you feel like everyone is against you, think of me, because I’ll always be thinking of you until the day we meet again, my beautiful boy.

  Be good to those who need love most. Don’t be too hard on the world, especially yourself. And remember that the time we all have on this earth is but a brief flash of beauty, like a shooting star, and that we have to do all we can to live our dreams. You were the best dream I ever had, Darren. May God bless you until I can hold you in my arms again.

  Love always,

  Ma

  The letter, feeling heavier than before, dropped from my hands. I gripped the sides of the table, trying to balance myself. I couldn’t stop shaking. Sadness was transforming into something else, something blisteringly hot like lava, and I couldn’t stop it from engulfing me.

  I flipped the table, sending the letters soaring like paper birds into the air. I threw the coffee pot across the room, glass shattering in every direction. I slammed a wooden chair onto the floor again, and again, and again until it broke into splinters. Heavy mugs crashed against walls. Pots and pans clanged like a brass band as I threw them toward windows. I blasted my fists, one by one, into a wall, my knuckles becoming caked with blood and plaster. When I saw the photo of Ma, Pa, and me on the living-room wall watching it all, I walked over and spit in Pa’s face. “If you hadn’ fuckin’ died, Ma wouldn’ have had to work in that factory inhalin’ all those chemicals, you stupid motherfucker!” I never knew him, but that didn’t matter. I hated him for his absence.

  When I finally collapsed onto the floor, my lungs working double time, I couldn’t stop thinking: What next? What next? What next? What could I break next? What could I do next? What would happen next to my life that was already so shattered? As the questions piled up like an accident on the freeway, I decided to do the only thing that made sense: get up and go to Sumwun.

  * * *

  Down the stairs. When I reached the bottom, Mr. Rawlings’s door was open. I walked in. His entire apartment was empty except for abandoned packs of seeds, stray furniture, letters, and ladybugs floating through the air. I walked into the backyard, finding rows of tomatoes, heads of lettuce, carrot tops, and yellow, red, and purple flowers covering the whole yard. He was gone, just like I told him to be. The feeling that I had made a mistake began to bloom in the pit of my stomach, but I quickly killed it. What kind of man lets a mother hide her illness from her son?

  Turn the corner. When I passed Mr. Aziz’s bodega, he was sweeping out front. He looked at me, shook his head, and turned away before heading back inside. The gargoyles were where they always were. It was the first time I saw Jason back on his corner since the hospital. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. Our eyes locked and he spit on the ground. Across the street, Wally Cat fanned himself with his fedora, staring at me. There was no longer an empty crate next to him. I ducked into the subway.

  When I arrived at 3 Park Avenue, I headed to Starbucks. Carlos was mopping, Nicole was arranging new cardboard cutouts, and Brian was stacking cups. But when I tried opening the door, it was locked. Brian looked up, his eyes met mine, and he went back to setting up. Nicole turned around, frowned, and returned to her cutouts. And Carlos paused, and said, “Not open yet,” then dropped his gaze back to the wet tiled floor. Brian must have said something.

  It was 7:05 a.m. and the entire sales team was in Qur’an. As I stepped into the elevator bay, I felt all two-hundred-something eyes on me. But instead of turning left, I went right. It was officially Deals Week, and the floor was empty.

  I dropped my bag, booted up my computer, and looked for a Post-it in my file cabinet, the one from Hell Week. Then I found it, a crinkled purple Post-it with three names.

  Bernie Aiven, head, Hinterscope Records

  Stefan Rusk, CEO, SpaceXXX

  Barry Dee, owner, DaynerMedia

  “Yo,” Charlie said, pushing open the frosted doors, walking toward me. “Um, you know it’s Deals Week, Buck. Everyone’s in Qur’an waiting for you.”

  I typed Bernie Aiven into our lead database and found his number.

  “What’s this?” Charlie asked, picking up the purple Post-it. “Your wish list? You can call them after the meeting, dude. Let’s go,” he said, grabbing my arm. I yanked it away, glaring. He flinched and walked back through the doors.

  I dialed the number and grabbed the receiver. After a few rings, a woman picked up. “Good morning, Bernie Aiven’s office, how may I help you?”

  “Hi,” I said, clearing my throat. “This is Buck Vender calling from Sumwun, is Bernie there?”

  “Sorry, where did you say you were calling from?”

  “Sumwun. I’ve exchanged emails with Bernie for a while now and wanted to catch him before the day started.”

  After a pause, she said, “Okay, one second.”

  Eddie walked through the doors, confused. “Buck, hey,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off.

  “I’m sorry about everything with your mom, but you have to come into the meeting. Rhett’s about to flip and Clyde’s going to come in here and it’s just going to be bad. You know everyone’s on edge.”

  I didn’t look at him. I just clutched the phone tighter. “Sorry, honey, but Bernie said he’s never exchanged any emails with you and he’s a busy man, so maybe send him another and he’ll respond if interested.”

  “Wait.”

  “Thank you.” Click.

  I found Stefan Rusk’s number. It went straight to his secretary’s voice mail.

  Eddie sighed. “Alright, Buck,” he said, and walked off the floor.

  I clicked the button for Barry Dee’s office. The phone rang.

  Clyde and Rhett flung the frosted doors open and stormed toward me. “What the fuck are you doing?” Clyde shouted, nostrils flaring, looking like an animal ready to attack.

  “C’mon,” Rhett said, ending the call. “Everyone’s waiting, Buck. I know you’ve been through a lot, but if you’re going to be here, you need to be here.”

  Without looking at them, I dialed Barry Dee’s office again. When Clyde reached over to end the call, I smacked his hand away, and said, “If either of you touch that phone, I’m going to send you to the hospital.”

  “I’m calling the cops, Rhett. He’s having a mental breakdown and is liable to do anything,” Clyde said, as he charged out the doors.

  The phone kept ringing. Rhett leaned closer. “Don’t do this, Buck. I can’t save you if you don’t get in Qur’an now. The board’s done with us and I’m going to be canned at the end of the week. Don’t do this. Not now.”

  Someone picked up. “Hello, Barry Dee’s office, this is Tracy speaking.”

  “Hi, Tracy, this is Buck Vender calling from Sumwun. Barry in?”

  Rhett shifted behind me, staring at my monitor. “Why’re you calling Barry Dee?”

  “Yes, he is, Buck, but he’s incredibly busy. Can I take a message?”

  People poured through the doors, surrounding my desk. Clyde smiled, shouting, “This is what happens when you think you’re bigger than the company! Cops will be here any second now.”

  “No,” I said into the phone. “No message. But can you please grab him and let him know Buck Vender from Sumwun is on the line? I have incredibly important information for him that he’s going to want to hear, Tracy. Trust me. If he doesn’t take five minutes to talk with me right now, he’s going to regret it.”

  “Um,” she said, sounding afraid. “Is . . . is Barry in trouble?”

  “No, but we need to speak. Now.”

  “Okay, hold on.” Classical music filled my ear and I turned to see the crowd of salespeople staring at me with mixed expressions: some looked around, confused; others had fear in their eyes and were biting their nails; a few dialed into my line to listen, signaling for others to do the same.

  “Just hang up, Buck. Please,” Frodo said across from me. “Whatever you’re doing isn’t worth it.”

  But it was. At that point, I had noth
ing else to lose. The company was going down. Ma was dead. Everyone I knew in Bed-Stuy hated me. And even my soldiers at Starbucks couldn’t face me.

  “What do you want, Mr. Vender?” an energetic, raspy voice said on the other end.

  “Is this Barry Dee?” All of the salespeople’s eyes widened, and everyone who wasn’t already listening on my line jumped to their phones. Even Rhett had a phone pressed to his ear.

  “It’s not fucking Willy Wonka,” he said. “So you have five seconds to tell me why I have to talk to you right now at this moment.”

  “Well, Barry, like I said, it’s Buck Vender calling from Sumwun and—”

  “Hold up,” he said, laughing. “Vender? The kid who was on Rise and Shine, America? And the company with the, uh, what is it? The therapy that fucking kills people? Yeah, that’s it. Why the hell are you calling me?”

  “Yeah,” I said, “that’s me. And I’m calling to make a deal with you, Barry.”

  “And why would I want to make a deal with you, Buck? I have hundreds of people trying to sell me shit every day. So why the fuck would I want to work with you and a company that no one from here to San Francisco wants to touch with a ten-foot pole? You all have startup syphilis. And no one, no matter how hot a girl once was, wants to get syphilis.”

  I took a breath. There was no turning back now. “What did you think when you saw me on Rise and Shine, America, Barry?”

  “I thought your CEO was smart enough to use someone like you as a human shield and that you were pretty smooth.”