My friends had returned to their seats laughing at themselves in relief when they heard me talking to my mother, then when they saw the grief-stricken mask that my face had become, and heard the soft helpless, “God, no.” whisper from my trembling lips, they returned to where I stood once again throwing their arms around me. I closed the flip-top cell phone and stood there staring at it as if
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“My Grandmom died this morning. She had a stroke last night and went into a coma. Then she just passed away. The funeral is tomorrow.”
“Oh my God, Malik. I’m so sorry.” Christina’s eyes were filling up with tears as if she had just lost a relative. Irrationally, I felt possessive of my grief and resented her attempt to share it with me.
“Malik, I—,”
“You can’t go.”
Huey, who had sat silently, staring at the floor, interrupted Iesha before she could offer her condolences. He was looking right at me and shaking his head. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My grief ignited in an explosion of white-hot fury.
“Don’t you fucking dare! Don’t you fucking dare! Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Huey looked down at his feet as if he was sorry for what he was saying. Still, he repeated it.
“You can’t go, Snap.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I punched a nearby porcelain lamp and shattered it into a dozen pieces. Both girls jumped and let out a squeal. Huey didn’t budge.
“There’s just no way you can go.”
“Why the fuck not? What the fuck are you talking about? My grandmother is dead! Didn’t you hear me? What are you tryin’ to say I can’t go to her damn funeral? Who the fuck do you think is going to stop me?”
Huey kept his eyes glued to the floor watching my shadow rage across the carpet.
“Scratch. That’s who. If you go, that entire funeral will turn into one big bloodbath. You’d be a sitting duck at that funeral and you and I both know that Scratch wouldn’t miss such a perfect opportunity to take you out along with half your friends and family. It would be the perfect revenge. And that’s why you can’t go. Your Mom will be there. Your aunts, uncles, cousins, it would be ridiculous to risk it. I can’t protect you in a crowd like that and even if I could I couldn’t protect your entire family. I might accidentally shoot one of your relatives myself trying to get to Scratch. I know how you feel, but it’s just too much of a risk.”
I collapsed into the seat across from Huey. Iesha and Christina took the baby into the bedroom to change his diaper while Huey and I talked. I felt completely empty, like a used tube of toothpaste that had been rolled all the way up from the bottom until every drop was squeezed out of it then slit up the middle and scraped clean. No way I was gonna let Scratch rob me of the opportunity to properly grieve.
“You can’t possibly know how I feel. I spent the last four years raising hell in the streets and my grandmother still loved me despite all the rumors flying around about me. Even though they whispered behind her back at church because of the shit I was doing. She still loved me. Even when the cops showed up on her doorstep and ripped her house apart looking for evidence of one of my crimes, she never spoke bad about me. But, I can’t remember the last time I sat down and talked with her for more than two minutes. I was too busy doin’ dirt in the street to give my own grandmother the time of day, even when I knew she was old and sick. I can’t even remember the last time I told her I loved her. I know it might not make sense to you, but I need to tell her I love her before they put her in the ground forever.”
Huey issued a long sigh of capitulation and finally raised his head to look me in the eyes. Tears were stubbornly holding at bay in his eyes, pride preventing them from spilling. He reached out and placed his hand on mine. His palms were softer than a woman’s.
“Malik, you’re my dog and I love you, but the hurt you’re feelin’ now ain’t nothing compared to what you’ll feel if Scratch decides to spray the whole congregation to take you out and winds up killing your Mom or something. I really don’t think you should go— but if you insist, you know I ain’t gonna leave you hangin’ out there by yourself.”
For a moment I couldn’t say anything. This was the most emotion I’d ever seen from Huey aside from when Tank was murdered. I stared at him for so long that he self-consciously dropped his head back down to stare at the inarticulate shadows on the floor. I reached out for Huey’s hand and he looked up once again and met my gaze.
“I love you too, brother, and I’m going to grandma’s funeral.”
Christina and Iesha finished changing the baby’s diaper. They carried him back into the room fussing over him like two schoolgirls playing with a doll. Iesha held the bottle in his mouth, while Christina cooed and kissed at him. My eyes followed them as they paced back and forth. I couldn’t stop staring at the child. He smiled, gurgled, cooed, threw-up, pissed, and shit, but never seemed to cry. His eyes stared back at me without love or hate, but with expectancy and patience. He seemed to be waiting for something. Something I wasn’t sure I was willing to give. I would kill Satan for him, but I would never forgive him for my people’s pain. I had no right. No one man did. He could forgive me if he liked, but I would keep my hate. I needed it for what I had to do.
“You still think that kid is Jesus Christ?”
“What?” Christina asked, half giggling.
“Oh, that’s right. We didn’t tell you two yet. Your boyfriend here thinks he rescued the baby Christ from Satan and now Satan is gunnin’ for both of them.”
Iesha and Christina both turned to look at me.
“There’s no doubt in my mind that Scratch is Satan. So, I guess that means I believe that kid is Jesus too.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?”
“No, baby, I’m serious. You didn’t see what I saw. If you did then you’d believe it too.”
“But why, dog? I mean, what about him has you so convinced? He’s just a kid.”
“Huey, man, just look at him. I mean just look at his eyes. You see that pain? You see that peace? You see that love? How could an infant have such ancient eyes? This is Jesus, dog. This is Jesus Christ.”
“I thought you always said the Black man didn’t have no savior?”
“He don’t. But I guess Jesus does. Us.”
“A damn crackbaby,” Huey walked over to the baby still cradled in Iesha’s arms and looked at him for a long moment, “If this is Christ then he’s been damned too.”
“Just look at his eyes. You ever see a baby with eyes that wise?”
Nothing I said would have convinced Huey, but I could tell that when he looked into that child’s calm peaceful eyes he saw. He knew. He believed. He knew like I did, with some primal metaphysical awareness that defied both faith and reason and went straight to instinct, to some genetic memory of our creator. But Huey would never admit it to himself. Even though I could see his legs tremble. Before that moment, I had never thought it possible for him to be afraid.
“S-so if he’s really Jesus then you really think Scratch is…”
“Satan. And not just figuratively or metaphorically. I ain’t talkin’ about that racist Muslim shit. I’m not just sayin’ he’s got evil in him. I’m sayin’ he
“Yeah, well, as long as this mutherfucker can bleed ain’t no way he’s gonna do shit to this kid.” Huey reached out to rustle the baby’s thin whispy hair and drew his hand back quickly when the child turned his tiny head and smiled at him.
“See, fool! Now you got me all spooked.” Huey chided with half a frown and half a smile fighting for control over his face. Christina and Iesha were both staring at the baby trying to see what we had seen in him. Huey was frowning, trying hard not to believe.
Christina and I had finally adjourned to the bedroom leaving Huey and Iesha alone on the long tattered couch. The baby was once again lying in the center of the bed between the pillows. We left him there and lay down on the floor beneath her queen-sized comforter. A sheet lay between the thin carpet and our naked bodies. Christina was wound up tight with sexual tension, but trying to hold back, not sure if I would be in the mood so soon after hearing
