The Voting Booth

by Brandy Colbert

  Gertie and Frank wouldn’t let us help clean up (“Go be young and free,” Frank said, holding up his glass of wine), so after we put our dishes in the sink, Alec asked if I wanted to take a walk around the land.

  “What are all these buildings?” I pointed in the distance.

  “Well, those are stables, even though the horses are long gone. That’s an outhouse that’s definitely not in use, and then there’s a guesthouse where the ranch hands used to live back in the day.”

  We wandered out toward the guesthouse. Walking close enough for our elbows to bump together.

  “When was the last time anyone lived here?” I asked, peering into the cloudy windows. As nice as his grandparents’ house was, this looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. The floorboards of the porch appeared as if they might rot through at any moment, the roof was sagging, and there was a giant rusted padlock on the front door.

  “A long-ass time ago,” Alec said, shrugging. “Maybe decades.”

  There wasn’t much beyond that, but we walked. The sun was setting, and the sky was a brilliant pinky-orange. I don’t pay much attention to sunsets; personally, I think people post way too many sunset photos online. But this one was impossible to ignore. Alec must have thought so, too, because he plopped down right where we were in the grass, gently tugging me down with him.

  I sat with my knees up, my arms wrapped around them. Out there, in the middle of nowhere, you could hear everything: crickets singing and owls hooting and, in the distance, something I couldn’t quite figure out.

  “What is that?” I asked Alec.

  “What?” He cocked his ear to the side, listening.

  I waited. And then—

  “That!”

  “Oh, those are frogs.”

  “There are frogs here?”

  “Yeah, over by the creek.”

  “They’re so loud,” I said, smiling. I loved it there.

  And maybe it was the sunset, or the frogs’ songs, or just being in Pearl Creek with Alec and his extremely cool family, but I wanted to be close to him. I scooted over without leaving an inch of space between us. Then I leaned my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes to take it all in.

  Alec and I weren’t super affectionate friends. He’d give me a half hug or a shoulder nudge, but we were mostly about high fives and fist bumps. He didn’t shrug away from me. He put his arm around me, pulling me even closer.

  We sat that way, watching the fading sky until the sizzling ball of orange dropped below the horizon.

  “Look up,” Alec said.

  I did, and there were stars. So many more of them than back in Flores Hills. I stared at them until my eyes felt fuzzy.

  It started to get cold, and I shivered. Alec rubbed my arm. “Should we go in?” he murmured. Still rubbing my arm.

  I nodded and we stood. I turned to go back to the house, but Alec stopped me, his hand on my wrist.

  “Marv?” He cleared his throat, stepping closer. “I really want to kiss you.”

  My eyebrows went up. Something had felt different between us lately, especially here in Pearl Creek, but I didn’t know what it was. I thought it was just us getting to know each other better. Was it more? Was it…this?

  “So do it, Buckman,” I said, sliding my hand around the back of his neck.

  He did, and I kissed him back, and it was so nonsensical, me kissing Alec, but it also made all the sense in the world. His lips were soft and his mouth was warm, and it turned out Alec Buckman was quite the kisser. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was, and that made me start laughing.

  Alec pulled away, eyebrow raised. “Uh, Marv? Could you wait until after I stop kissing you to criticize me?”

  “Oh my god, no,” I said, bursting into a fresh peal of laughter. “I’m so sorry. It’s not you. It’s just…”

  He had the hint of a laugh in his eyes, but he still looked a little skeptical, as if he wasn’t quite sure I wasn’t actually making fun of him.

  I finally caught my breath and forced myself to focus. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking what a great kisser you are, and then, like, how dumb it was for me to be surprised. You’re good at everything. Why not this?”

  He squinted at me. “Are you just trying to make me feel better?”

  “Not at all. You’re perfect.” Then I pulled him back down to me and kissed him first that time.

  The air was different in Pearl Creek. We were different. There was something so deliciously calm and romantic about this place that when Alec touched my waist and pressed himself against me, I felt an intense need for him. A want that tore through me so rapidly and unexpectedly, it left me breathless.

  We straightened our clothes and walked up to the main house, bumping elbows again until he grabbed my hand and kissed it.

  His parents and Gertie and Frank were having cocktails in the living room as they listened to old jazz records. Gertie gave us a raised-eyebrow look, as if she knew exactly what we’d been up to, but they didn’t say anything as we joined them, sitting on the floor cross-legged and close to each other, but without our knees touching. I sipped more lemonade while Frank told us about how his father turned him on to Mel Tormé records and how people no longer appreciated the kind of genius he brought to the table in the music world.

  Gertie went to bed first, saying she had to get her rest for the festivities tomorrow. Alec’s dad started yawning after that, then his mother; they walked down the hall to their room a few minutes later. Then it was just me, Alec, and Frank, who talked about Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington and Charlie Parker until he was silent, just enjoying the music. I looked over after a while and saw his eyes were closing. When he let out a loud snore, Alec lightly shook his arm and said, “Papa, you should go to bed. We’ll put the records away.”

  His grandfather sleepily patted us both on our shoulders and stumbled down the hallway, saying he’d see us in the morning.

  Alec and I didn’t put the records away. At least not right then. We sat and listened to Coltrane, whose music I knew because he’s one of my dad’s favorites. I got the feeling things should be weirder with Alec and me. We’d exchanged a few private looks that evening when we thought no one was looking, but it wasn’t weird. It felt…good thinking about kissing him. And I wanted to do more of it.

  “Hey,” he said, and when I turned to look at him, he was staring at my mouth. We kissed and, eventually, pulled away to catch our breath. “Marv, I don’t want to stop doing this with you.”

  “Me either.” I paused. My heart was going berserk, but I felt like I might burst if I didn’t say it then. I felt it too strongly not to say something. “Should we…I mean, what if we tried being together?”

  He gave me a goofy grin that made me instantly light-headed. “You want to be with me? Like, be my girlfriend?”

  “No,” I said. “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

  Alec shook his head, but he was laughing, and then he kissed me again. “Okay. Then it’s decided. But you couldn’t have brought this up earlier?”

  I tilted my head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  “Because now everyone’s in bed and all I want to do is shout to the world that I’m Marva Sheridan’s boyfriend.”

  We kissed and we kissed and we kissed.

  That day, that night—the whole trip, in fact—had been so utterly perfect that I just expected the rest of it would be equally blissful. And everything was fine at first.

  The next day was July Fourth, and we had a nice breakfast at home before heading out for the parade and fireworks. Alec and I exchanged glances that made me remember every part of the way his lips had felt on my mouth, and how his hand had felt cupped around my neck.

  So I wish he hadn’t put a stain on my memory when were on the way to downtown Pearl Creek. We were riding in the car with his grandparents, and Alec’s parents were driving separately. Gertie looked back at me and smiled.

  “Marva, I hope your family doesn’t miss you too much today,” sh
e said. “It’s nice that they let you celebrate with us.”

  “Oh, we don’t really do much for the Fourth,” I said. “We celebrate Juneteenth.”

  I didn’t think Alec would know what it was, but when I saw Gertie and Frank were just as clueless, my heart sank a bit. I didn’t expect every white person to know everything about Black history, but it was surprising how many didn’t know anything besides stories involving Frederick Douglass, Martin Luther King Jr., and Rosa Parks. And even then, most of the stories are only half true. But at least Alec and his grandparents seemed curious about Juneteenth, which is more than most people.

  I licked my lips before I began. “Well, it’s June nineteenth. Enslaved people in Texas didn’t find out until two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation that they were free. Not until 1865. So Black people celebrate it every year, and it’s recognized by almost every state in the country, even though a lot of people don’t know about it.”

  Gertie nodded. “How nice that your family celebrates it. What sorts of things do you do?”

  “Everybody celebrates in their own way, like the Fourth of July. We go to a family friend’s house and have a cookout. Red foods are a big part of the tradition. We always have red velvet cake, hot links, a red drink, like strawberry soda, and watermelon.”

  But that description is nothing like actually being there celebrating. This year everyone seemed especially happy to be together. It felt like a mini family reunion, even though the Baxters hosted several other families and I didn’t know everyone all that well. Juneteenth signs decorated the front lawn, which Mrs. Baxter assured me would be replaced with political signs when the time came. There was music and dancing, and games for the little kids. I mostly hung out with my parents and observed everyone paying tribute to their ancestors the best way we knew how: celebrating Black culture and the community that kept it thriving.

  “That sounds lovely,” Gertie said. “It’s important to keep traditions alive.”

  Alec wrinkled his nose. “I don’t get it. Why not just celebrate the Fourth?”

  “What? I just told you the reason we recognize Juneteenth.”

  “Yeah, but what’s the point of two separate holidays? I don’t care if you’re black, white, blue, or green—we’re all American, right? Seems like we should be celebrating together, not encouraging divisiveness.”

  In the front seat, Gertie and Frank glanced at each other, but neither of them spoke.

  “That’s kind of an ignorant thing to say,” I mumbled, my heart stuttering with each word. Alec and I hadn’t really argued as friends, but now he was my boyfriend. For only about the past twelve hours, but still. Should we be disagreeing like this already?

  He bristled, his hand stiffening in mine. “I’m not ignorant.”

  “No, you’re not, so you shouldn’t say things like that. First of all, blue and green people don’t exist, so that’s a ridiculous statement. And a hundred and fifty years of freedom doesn’t erase four centuries of bondage and oppression, Alec. Black people weren’t even free when the Declaration of Independence was adopted. Some people celebrate both, but it makes more sense to me to celebrate Juneteenth instead. I’m not going to feel bad about that.”

  “Well said,” Frank murmured, the first time he’d spoken since we set off in the car.

  Alec was quiet for a moment, then he said, “I guess I never thought about it like that.”

  “It would do you some good to listen instead of getting defensive next time,” Gertie said in a soft voice, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

  He swallowed and nodded. “That’s fair, Nana.” Then he leaned in. Whispered in my ear, “Sorry, Marv. I’m a dumbass.”

  I squeezed his hand to let him know I accepted his apology. With anyone else, that would have been a red flag. But I knew Alec and what he believed in.

  Nobody was truly perfect.

  I’M NEVER GONNA GET TO THE FRONT OF THIS line. It’s wrapped around the church, and nobody seems to be going in or out. Marva is still talking to her dude, so I take a few minutes to catch up on my texts.

  There’s another one from Anthony, saying the calculus test kicked his ass. Svetlana charged into the band’s group chat, demanding to know if I’m sick and if I’ll be at tonight’s show. Benicio slides in with the occasional emoji, and Kendall says nothing at all. I wonder if the band has figured out she’s not talking to me. Guess I’ll find out tonight.

  I scroll down through my messages until I get to her name. A little over two weeks ago is the last time we texted. I was apologizing, hoping it got through to her since the one I’d tried at the bonfire earlier that night didn’t go over so well; she’d turned around as soon I walked up, icing me out with her girls. She texted back the next morning saying, Please leave me alone, Duke.

  My thumbs hover over my phone for a few moments, as I try to think of the thing that will piss her off the least. I go with:

  Thanks again for getting us the show tonight

  Gonna be dope

  And I promise myself this is the last time I’ll bother her. But every time I think about Kendall, I flash back to that hurt look on her face in the kitchen. Like she’d been slapped. And it was my fault. For not being man enough to be honest with her about how nervous I felt around her, now that we know each other in real life.

  I wait for some type of response. Anything. I’d even take that annoying little bubble that shows she’s typing and then disappears when she changes her mind about talking to me. I get nothing.

  I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I’m starting to wish I’d stayed in bed this morning.

  When I open them a minute later, I realize Marva’s been gone kind of a long time. That can’t be a good conversation. I look around the church grounds to see if I can find her. She’s standing next to a tree with her arms slack at her sides, staring at the sky. Def not a good conversation.

  I’d go check on her, but I get the feeling she’d be pissed at me for losing my place in line just to make sure she was all right.

  All kinds of people are standing in line, shifting impatiently and checking their phones and staring off into space like they wish they could teleport themselves someplace else. Most people are older than us, but there are a few kids our age. I hope Marva notices. We’re not the only ones who care.

  “Is this thing even moving?” I mutter under my breath.

  “Slowly, but yes,” the man in front of me says, turning around as if I was talking to him. He’s older, with dark brown skin and gnarled fingers tightly gripping a cane. “Feel like I been standing in line all day.”

  “You’ve been here that long?” My stomach drops as I stare at all the people ahead of us.

  “Nah, got up early and went to the place I’ve been voting for the last thirty years, and can you believe it was closed up? Nobody there, no sign. Spent half the day making all these phone calls to find out the city closed it and I had to come here instead.” He shakes his head. “Flores Hills Senior Center chartered a bus to the original place, but once that was closed up, we were on our own to get here. It’s all the way across town, by the hospital. I bet about half the people couldn’t make it down here. Don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t had the time and money to catch a city bus.”

  “All these people are with you?”

  “Not all, but a good lot.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” says a voice next to me. I look over to see Marva, who managed to sneak over when I wasn’t looking. “Honestly, it’s like they’re trying to do everything they can to keep people from voting!”

  A smile peeks out from the man’s wrinkled face, but it’s not a happy one. “That ain’t nothing new. Been happening since they were counting us as three-fifths of a human.”

  “That’s the truth,” Marva says, folding her arms.

  The woman in front of him turns around to ask him something, and I look at Marva. “How’d it go with, uh, Alec?” I ask.

  She doesn’t look at
me. “I don’t think I’m going to have a boyfriend tomorrow.”

  “That bad? Shit. I’m real sorry, Marva.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she says.

  “If I hadn’t answered your—”

  “No, I mean, I think maybe Alec and I aren’t supposed to be together. Things have been…off for a while. It feels…” She shakes her head, trailing off.

  “What?”

  Marva looks at me now. “It feels like he’s trying to pick a fight with me, and I don’t get it. Why spend so much time fighting for things and then disappear when your voice is actually needed?”

  “Wait, why is he picking a fight with you? Isn’t he the one who went back on his word?”

  “Exactly.” She sighs. “He’s totally in the wrong here, but he thinks it looks bad if he’s mad at me, so he tries to get me to be mad at him.”

  I frown. “I don’t get it.”

  She takes a deep breath. “I don’t think all the time about how I’m a Black girl dating a white guy. But I see how people at Salinas Prep treat us. Part of it is because Alec is a big deal there. Everyone loves him. And he knows it, and never wants to look like the bad guy. So even if we’re annoyed with each other, he’ll never let on in front of anyone else.”

  “That sounds…like a lot of work.”

  “Right? But, also, I give him some street cred.”

  “Street cred?”

  “There are eight Black kids in the whole school. Alec knows a lot of people think he’s, like, down for dating me. And they make sure we know how cool they are with it, too. They always want me to know that I’m not different from them at all.” She rolls her eyes.

  “Oh,” I say, nodding. “The whole ‘you’re not really Black’ thing?”

  “Yeah, exactly. You get that, too?”

  “People don’t expect to see a Black guy in an indie band. Every time I mention music, people think I’m a rapper. And Anthony does rap sometimes, but he’s white. He’s pretty dope, but I can’t spit bars to save my life.”

  Marva groans. “What is wrong with people? We’re either too Black or not Black enough.”

  “Try being only half Black,” I say with a short laugh. “I’m never what people think I should be.”