imperfection in the whites of her eyes; scars that made her all the stronger.
When she was gone Socrates pulled himself up and got dressed. He was still dizzy but there was the Shakurs' picnic that he had to go to. And there was something else, a dream that he couldn't remember. He didn't want to remember it but still it was on his mind.
?Hi, Mr. Fortlow.? Corina Shakur came up to him near the fence at the front of their small yard. Howard, Corina's fat husband, was still cooking ribs on the barbecue grill. Loud R&B; music issued from the boom box near to his feet.
?Hey, Corina,? Socrates said. ?You got some nice friends.?
Eight or nine guests had come for the Sunday afternoon picnic in the Shakurs' front yard. It was just a patch of grass that stood a foot or so above the sidewalk. The ocean was just a block and a half down the street.
?Howard got some nice friends down from work,? Corina said, leveling her gaze at the ex-convict's chest. ?Wayne's funny.?
Wayne Yashimura was the shift supervisor from Silicon Solution's computer operations center. He was tall and handsome, with funny jokes and a pocket full of joints that he shared with Corina's girlfriends up from Watts. They had smoked the drug in the backyard, over the canal, while Socrates talked to Darryl out front.
Now everyone was together in the front yard laughing and drinking beers.
?How you doin', Corina?? Socrates asked the young woman that he coveted on dark lonely nights.
?Fine,? she said. ?I mean Howard's doin' good. He make good money now and I ain't got to worry.?
?You happy??
?I'ont know,? the young woman answered. ?White lady across the street got kids too. We get together sometimes, you know? An' it's nice but you know we never laugh real hard like I do with my friends.? Corina gestured with her head toward the young black women who mingled with the men around the barbecue grill.
?A real friend is somebody know your heart,? Socrates said and instantly he was sorry. He didn't want to let his feelings out about Corina. She was Howard's wife. She stood in for being a mother to Darryl.
?Yeah,? Corina said. ?It's like you an' Darryl.?
?What you mean??
?Howard try an' be like a father around Darryl. He tell him what to do and how to make it in the world. And Darryl listen, but not like when you talk.? Corina took a deep breath and seemed to swell with pride. ?When you talk, Darryl's eyes light up an' he's open like. That's how I feel around DeeDee. She just makes me happy. I guess I miss her. You know everybody always sayin' that they wanna good job so that they can move away from South Central, but I miss it. I miss my people, you know??
On the bus back home Socrates thought of Corina and what she'd said about Darryl. He allowed himself a rare sigh of pleasure.
?That was nice, huh?? Monica Nealy, one of Corina's friends, asked. Socrates had agreed to ride with her, to see her home. The rest of the young women had gone to hear music on the beach with Howard's friends.
?Yeah,? Socrates replied. ?Howard can burn some meat.?
The young woman turned away to look out at the dark street. She was big boned and husky but not overweight. And she had hungry eyes. The kind of eyes that drove young men wild with the promise of her kisses.
?Mr. Fortlow??
?Yeah, Monica??
?Nuthin'.?
Socrates didn't mind her sudden indecision. By then he was deep in the memory of the dream about a dead man's soul becoming a haze of flies that could go where the man could not.
?Mr. Fortlow??
?Uh-huh??
?Did you talk to Wayne??
