Birth of a Dark Nation Read online

  "Oh, okay. Were you raised on a farm or something?"

  "Nah, not quite. You could say I was raised in the south. Living off the land was normal for us."

  "Where in the south?"

  "Louisiana. But DC is home now."

  "You got brothers and sisters?"

  "Brothers. A lot of 'em. All over the place."

  "I have four siblings all together. They all live in New York, though."

  "I see. You the baby, aren't you?"

  I smiled and looked away.

  "That obvious, huh?"

  "Lil' bit," he replied. "But you not spoiled. Not that I can tell."

  "I'm not, really. So did you go to high school here?"

  "Oh, uh, naw. Back in Louisiana."

  "When did you graduate?"

  "19…"

  "19? Dude, how old are you?"

  He smiled wide.

  "Old enough," he said slyly.

  "I see I gotta watch you," I said with a raised eyebrow.

  "I gotta watch you, too, my man." He tossed a radish at me and laughed.

  We worked for a while in his plain little garden, but it was fun. I never thought in a million years that I'd actually be doing something like this with a guy I was crazy about. But I suppose stranger things have happened.

  July 4

  DC was hot. As in, over-a-hundred-degrees hot, with no end to the heat wave in sight. Not a cloud in the sky.

  The Freemasons across the street from Magdalene House were hosting their annual Fourth of July block party despite the oppressive heat. From the Dollar General to the beauty school down the block, each storefront had a different kiosk set up with games, merchandise, and snacks.

  I walked past the action to Dante's house, walked up the steps, and knocked on the door. I heard a quick series of stomps, and then a quick open of the door revealed that he was already smiling.

  It was contagious.

  "Hi," he said.

  "Hey," I replied. I gave him a quick once-over. As usual, he was wearing a white sleeveless t-shirt, this time with red board shorts and black sandals. His feet were impeccable, as though he'd never walked a day without moisturizing them.

  "You look good today," he said, checking out my khaki shorts and orange Syracuse shirt.

  "Thanks," I replied. "So do you."

  "Why don't you come in out the heat and come get some of this good air?"

  I stepped inside and was greeted by the icy air inside the house. He closed the door behind me and grabbed me from behind. He kissed my neck, slowly opening his mouth and letting his tongue slide across my skin as he tasted me.

  "Shit," I exhaled.

  "I missed you," he whispered.

  I turned around and kissed him on the mouth, awkwardly pressing my nose against his.

  "We've seen each other like every day, fool. Now come on, let's see what this block party is all about."

  We stepped back outside and the heat hit us like a wave of maple syrup. Sweat was just something I'd have to get used to if I wanted to enjoy the block party. Dante and I walked close to one another, but without daring to show any affection in public. Although times had changed immensely in the years I had lived in DC, it was still never a good idea for men to show affection to one another in neighborhoods like this one. No, things were still far too conservative, because of the corner boys and the hair stylists, and the old ladies and old men belonging to the Masonic orders.

  We walked past the Afro-centric bookstore and paused to rummage through their offerings.

  "Lots of good stuff here," I mused.

  "Yeah, it is," Dante said. "I've read most of them."

  "Really?" I asked.

  Dante looked at me with an eyebrow raised.

  "You surprised I read?" he asked.

  "I mean…kinda."

  He smirked and scanned the table, picking up a copy of Gloria Naylor's The Women of Brewster Place.

  "Ask me about 'beige bras and oatmeal,'" he demanded. I was silent.

  "How about Roots?" he asked, picking up Alex Haley's tome. "Whatchu know about Chicken George and Matilda? Hmm?"

  "I mean, those are movies."

  "Oh, a smart nigga," Dante mocked. "How about Clare and Irene in Passing? Passing for white or passing for heterosexual? Or Sula? Whatchu know about the Bottom? Something more contemporary… How about Paul Beatty, The White Boy Shuffle?"

  "Yo…" I said. "I didn't mean to offend you."

  Dante paused, then smiled.

  "I'm just fuckin witchu," he laughed. "But yeah. I like to read. A lot."

  I smiled back at him. We moved throughout the block and watched as the kids and some grown-ups enjoyed the makeshift games the business owners had set up.

  The barbershop had a dartboard set up just outside its doors.

  "Wanna play?" Dante asked.

  "Oh, I'm no good at darts," I said.

  "Come on," he said. "Ayo, how many darts I get for five dollars?" he asked the barber who manned the table.

  "Three," he said flatly.

  "And what's the prize?" Dante asked.

  "I dunno man, I just give you a voucher for the prize table down there."

  "Aight. Lemme hold three darts then," Dante said as he passed me man a crumpled five-dollar bill from his pocket. The barber passed him his three darts and stood back.

  "Watch this," Dante said to me. I nodded and stood back.

  With silent precision, Dante cocked his arm back behind his head and released the dart with a slight throw and a flick of the wrist.

  Bull's eye.

  Again he cocked his arm back in the same stance and repeated the throw.

  Bull's eye again, with this dart landing right next to the first.

  He aimed for the third time and shot the dart. This one landed on the dartboard with such force that it knocked down the other two.

  "Shit," the barber said.

  "Damn," I said.

  "Thank you," Dante said. "I'll be taking that voucher now."

  "You got it, buddy," the barber said. He gave Dante a gold sheet of paper and wrote some information on it.

  "Give this to the lady at the gift table. You can pick from the first prizes."

  "Thank you, man," Dante said. We walked away.

  "Yo… How the hell did you learn to throw darts like that?" I asked.

  "Years of practice, my nigga."

  A DJ set up in the parking lot of the Dollar General was playing old soul music from the 70s. Dante's head immediately started bouncing.

  "You like this?" I asked.

  "Hell yeah," he said. "It reminds me of the music I used to listen to."

  "You listened to old school music growing up?"

  Dante paused, blinked slowly, and then spoke again.

  "Yeah, man! My parents used to play this all the time."

  "I see." In terms of his personality, he was definitely an odd mixture of a lot of things, but I couldn't put my finger on what, exactly.

  "What kinda music you like?" he asked me.

  "A little bit of everything, but mostly hip-hop. If it has a beat, I fuck with it."

  "Word."

  We passed the Dollar General parking lot and went to the prize table. All they had was kid's toys and Dollar General gift cards, so Dante picked the latter and immediately handed it to me.

  "Naw man, that's yours!" I said.

  "I know. But I'm giving it to you. You know how they used to do back in the day. Man wins his woman a teddy bear at the state fair. Well, you ain't a woman and this a block party, but I want you to have it anyway. I know you be likin' them Sprite Zeroes and shit."

  I laughed and took the gift card.

  "Thanks, man," I said. Just then, the DJ began to play "Boogie Shoes" and Dante's entire demeanor changed.

  "Oh shit!" he exclaimed.

  "What?" I asked, stuffing the gift card in my pocket.

  "That's my jam! Come on!" He grabbed my arm and we hurried to the makeshift dance floor on the parking lot. We joined
a dozen women and kids who had already begun a line dance.

  It was easy to keep up. Right leg out, tap tap, left leg out, tap tap, cha-cha, turn, back, back, back… The fun of it all made us forget just how hot it was outside.

  We spent the rest of the daylight hours playing more games—sometimes with some of the neighborhood kids—and eating some of the awesome food the street vendors had. Some of the best, ice-cold watermelon I'd ever had was at the block party that day.

  "You staying for the fireworks?" he asked me, as we moseyed back down to his house.

  "I can," I said.

  "Do you want to?" he asked.

  "I do."

  "Good." He looked at me out of the corner of his eye and smiled.

  "The sun's setting soon. The fireworks will be going up after that."

  "Where can we see them?" I asked, as we entered the house. The air was still icy and a chill went through my body.

  "The roof," he said. I nodded.

  "You want some water?" he asked.

  "Yes. Please." He went to the fridge and produced two bottles. We both gulped them down. I closed my eyes for a few minutes and relaxed.

  "Come on upstairs," he said. I followed him up to the second floor of the house, then through another door to the attic. He easily opened the window and we stepped out onto the slightly inclined roof. We could see down either side of the block.

  "You ain't afraid of heights, is you?" Dante asked me.

  "Nope, I'm good," I replied. "Which way are the fireworks gonna be?"

  "That way," he said pointing directly in front of us, toward the park a few blocks away.

  "I'll be right back," he said. As soon as he climbed back in the window, I heard him zoom down the stairs. Less than a minute later, he was back with a blanket and a cooler.

  "Sit on this," he instructed. I unrolled the blanket and put it down on the roof. We both sat down comfortably.

  "What's in the cooler?" I asked.

  "Beer," he said. "If you want some."

  "Sounds good to me," I said. He opened the cooler and popped the top of the cold Corona bottle before he handed it to me. I thanked him.

  As I sipped the beer, I looked up at the sky. For the first time in years, I actually noticed the stars.

  "I like to see you looking up," Dante said.

  "Literally and figuratively," I quipped.

  "Yeah. You got a pep in your step like shit."

  I laughed. "Your DC slang be killin' me softly," I said.

  "What slang? 'Like shit?'"

  "Among other things. You sound like you ain't never stepped one foot out the Beltway."

  "You'd be surprised where I been," he winked. The first fireworks began to light the sky and fill the air with rapturous booms.

  I had lived in DC for several years. I'd done the fireworks on the National Mall, and even though it was entertaining, I began to greatly prefer the idea of all of the neighborhood fireworks celebrations around the city. There was less congestion than down on the Mall and they created a safe environment for small communities.

  The night finally began to cool down some. It wasn't too warm to lean my head on Dante's shoulder as more and more lights filled the sky, or for him to put his arm around me while the smell of sulfur filled the air.

  The sky was magical. This fireworks display inspired oohs and ahs from the children and families down below, still at the block party, and from the roof, between two unlikely lovers.

  Dante turned to me, my head still on his shoulder, and kissed me on my forehead.

  "Isn't this sweet?"

  The voice was sarcastic, crisp, and clear.

  It wasn't Dante's.

  Startled, I turned around to see another man sitting on the roof behind us.

  "Who the hell are you?!" I stood up and positioned myself in front of Dante in a defensive stance.

  The handsome, sandpaper colored man with long dreadlocks slightly tilted his head to the side, as if he were amused.

  "My name is Victor Pearl," he said calmly but forcefully. He stood up and approached us.

  "He my cousin," Dante said stepping from behind me. Shocked, I looked on as Dante embraced the tall and lean Victor, who was at least six inches taller than him.

  "Vic, this Justin," he said, introducing me to his cousin. Still suspicious, I extended my hand to Victor. He took it into an extraordinarily tight grip. I winced.

  "It's nice to meet you," Victor said.

  "Aye, I'm sorry I ain't mention him before," Dante said. His entire demeanor changed in Victor's presence. His confidence seemed to melt away and he had a problem looking either of us in the face.

  "He… We both own the house, sorta." Dante said.

  "Our uncle left it to all of the cousins," Victor explained. "Dante is the primary caretaker."

  "You're not from around here," I said.

  "I'm from around everywhere," Victor said. I knew already that Victor could never be mistaken for charming. He had an arrogant air about him, the same type of aloof personality as many of the black men I went to college with-the same sort of guys I preferred avoiding at reunions.

  "Enjoy the fireworks, gentlemen. I'm going to go unpack my things. And Dante, my instruments are coming in the morning. I hope the basement is as I left it?"

  Dante nodded.

  "Good. See you in the morning." Victor climbed back through the open window and disappeared.

  "The fuck is that all about?" I asked angrily.

  "Nothin. He my cousin. He lives here too. Sometimes."

  "We been talking how long and I'm only just now learning about a cousin?"

  "I'm sorry. He be coming through randomly. It's just how he is."

  Annoyed, I sat back down on the roof and continued watching the fireworks in silence. Dante sat down next to me.

  "Aye, don't be mad. He family. He cool."

  I looked at Dante out of the corner of my eye.

  "Mmm-hmm," I affirmed.

  He sighed and looked back up at the sky.

  "He's okay once you get to know him," Dante said.

  "I'm not mad because he's rude. I'm just annoyed that this is how I had to find out about him."

  "I'm sorry," he said. "Really."

  He grabbed my hand, lightly squeezed it, and then kissed it on the inside. He then closed my palm and placed my hand back in my lap.

  "You can have that when you stop being mad at me," he said matter-of-factly.

  I looked at him and laughed. But I certainly didn't un-ball my fist for a little while longer, just in case that kiss were to float away.

  One Door Closes

  I heard the heavy footsteps of my coworker as he bounded up the stairs to my attic office.

  "Hey champ," Steve said.

  "What's up?"

  "Boss man called a meeting in the conference room." "What's that idiot want now?"

  "He didn't say, but he looked jive sad or something."

  "Well, things can't get much worse than they are right now."

  "I guess," Steve said. We walked down the flights of steps and were the last people to enter the conference room. We took our seats in the corner as our boss began, his greasy face sullen and his voice nearly cracking. He glanced around the table from the irritable faces that Steve and I stopped hiding months ago, to Lana's indifferent gaze, to Teresa's perpetual cross-eyed look of pure senile craziness. Rounding out the bunch was the housing manager Tab, the life coaches Tony and Geoff, and the finance consultant LaJwanne.

  Ernie sighed and began.

  "Team, as you know, we've had a really hard time the past few months. We've been getting dinged left and right with our housing grants from the government and just when it seems like we've got things under control, they ding us on something else. Well, I got some really bad news today."

  He paused and his bottom lip began to quiver.

  "Take your time," Teresa said.

  "We're closing the office today. Magdalene House will be no more by the end of the week." />
  Everyone in the room gasped simultaneously.

  "What do you mean, Ernie?" Tony said. "We've got life skills classes planned through the end of the year."

  "The Department of Housing has notified us that we are to cease and desist all housing programs. We will receive no more reimbursements for the work we provide, so the tenants will be moved elsewhere."

  "Where are they going to go?" I asked.

  "And aren't we responsible for the transition plan? We can't just put them out by the end of the week," Steve said.

  "It's out of our hands," Ernie said, a bead of sweat trickling down his brow.

  "This doesn't make any sense," Steve continued. "Ernie, what do you mean they've been 'dinging' us? There's been no sort of reports that things were terribly wrong here."

  "Housing doesn't want us running this program anymore," Ernie said flatly.

  "So they're just shutting us down, just like that?" Teresa asked.

  "Yes," Ernie said.

  "They can't do that! There are protocols which need to be followed," Teresa retorted.

  "He's lying," I said. The commotion of the room suddenly came to a halt.

  "Excuse me?" Ernie said.

  "You're lying," I repeated.

  "Listen, Justin, I know you're upset, but I am not lying about this. This is a highly political process and sometimes good nonprofits are caught in the crossfire."

  "Ernie, we house women living with AIDS. There is no way in hell that politics closed Magdalene House. There is more to this story than you're saying. If this is really our last day here, then you owe it to us to tell the whole truth."

  "Calm down, Justin, I know this is very stressful but you've got to get a hold of yourself."

  "You know what, you are a fucking liar!" I shouted. I stood up from my chair and walked up to my executive director. To my surprise, nobody stopped me.

  "You think I don't know that you've been hiring your friends to write these shitty ass grant proposals you've been submitting downtown? Dude, I run the computers here, I know what the fuck your emails say. And I know you've been hiring these two-bit con artists to score this grant money. That's why Cissy quit-you wouldn't let her write the grants. I mean, how the hell is a director of development not going to write the grants?"

  "Cissy didn't quit, she was fired for insubordination. And if we weren't shutting down, you'd be getting fired, too."