Midnight

  “I’ll keep my name as it is,” I answered him.

  Umma smiled politely at the man because he had authority. Like myself, she had learned so much since seven years ago. She knew now how to get the small victories without compromising her beliefs. She wore her thobe today, covered her body, but not the niqab which concealed her face, all but her eyes. She pretended that she was saying something so nice. But in Arabic she pointed out to me, “These people are so arrogant and so ugly. They always assume so much.”

  Looking at Umma’s smiling pretty face, the clerk eagerly signed my certificate and said, “Congratulations, you are now a citizen of the United States of America, the greatest country in the world.”

  I took Umma over to Rockefeller Center. She stood staring at all of the flags they had raised in the open space behind their building and beside their outdoor skate rink.

  “I want to show you where the language courses are, Umma. You can sign up for an Arabic to English class. There will be many students there who are just learning at your same pace, from all over North Africa and the Middle East. It will be what’s best for business.” I tried to convince her. But Umma was still looking up.

  “Umma, what are you doing?” I asked her.

  “I looked at every flag three times already. There are so many flags. Yet, I still don’t see the flag of the Sudan, the largest country in Africa, the land of the Blacks,” she said incredulously.

  Inside the Rockefeller Center building, I helped Umma to complete her English language course application. We paid the fee and were given the registration and identification cards.

  Since I could not escort Umma to class on Monday and Wednesday nights because of basketball and martial arts, I signed her up for the weekly early Saturday morning three-hour workshop. This way, she could ride in with me when I went to work for Cho.

  “I’m going to bring Akemi here also,” I told Umma. “For the Japanese to English course. It will be good for her business as well.”

  “Inshallah,” Umma replied.

  I dropped Umma at work for the night shift. Since she took the day off to get our citizenship papers, she would have to work from 4:00 P.M. until midnight. Then I headed back over to pick Naja up. She would have to hang out with me once more. I knew already she would like that, especially since she would be sad about having to get rid of her kitten. Umma had been clear this morning that the timing for a pet was all wrong, for our family.

  “Pets shed and urinate and tear things apart. I have expensive cloths and pins and needles lying around. I can’t afford to have the kitten cause us any setbacks. If we are blessed to get our new home, then, no problem. There will be a place for everything, and everything in its place.”

  On the train ride to ball practice, the kitten’s head popped out of Naja’s book bag. She would rub her nose against the kitten’s nose and cover its face with her kisses.

  “We have to set her free before we pick Umma up from work tonight,” I explained to my little sister. “You seem to keep getting closer to this kitten. It’s gonna make it real hard on you when you two separate,” I cautioned her.

  “I have seven hours left.” She smiled and placed her face beside the kitten’s.

  “Saturday night’s game is a real one, not a scrimmage. So let’s pick up the pace. No home court advantage this time around. We’ll have to roll on Brownsville hard and strong. Be prepared to move in, handle our business and move out. And, no partying or celebrating over there when we take it from those boys. You all know what happened last week. The league can’t afford for a player to get shot after every game,” Vega said, referring to some kid who the cops clapped the night after our first win, which I thought really couldn’t be blamed on the league.

  “Yo, Coach, I hope when we win, we ain’t gotta go out with you again. My girl is complaining that you taking up all my time,” Braz said. The team laughed in agreement.

  “C’mon, who else is gonna take y’all to see the best movie ever made in the history of film, besides me? I bought you ungrateful crybabies popcorn and soda!” Vega defended.

  “I’m not gonna lie, that was a fucked-up movie theatre you took us to. But I hear you because you got the discount. And Tony Montana, he’s the motherfucking man,” the player named Machete said.

  “But he didn’t win at the end,” Braz said.

  “That don’t matter,” Panama said. “He had so much fucking style when he was doing it. A good ten, fifteen-year run on top of the world, guns, paper, mansions, whips, bitches. I’ll take it all.”

  “Word up,” Mateo said.

  I just watched and listened. I missed the Scarface movie the team went to see that night. Yet what they was saying hung in my head like a riddle. Is it better to have all the best things and a short life, or live average until you’re seventy or eighty years old? What’s the value of life? I thought to myself.

  “That’s an assignment for you,” Vega said pointing me out. “Have you seen the Scarface movie?” he asked me.

  “Nah,” I answered.

  “Well, catch up! Go and check it out,” Vega said. He glanced in the corner where the bleachers were, where my little sister Naja sat waiting.

  “But don’t take your little sister, it’s no good for her,” he said sincerely.

  I was skeptical about playing ball with the league and these guys in the beginning. As I looked around the room now, there was Panama, Machete, Braz, Mateo, Jaguar, and the rest. We were all players who originated from some other country outside of the United States.

  I wondered if it was set up that way intentionally. I wondered if the reason we all got along so well was because we weren’t like the Americans. I thought about Ameer and the crazy-ass red team. I wondered if they was all fucked up because they was all African Americans; they all hated each other and couldn’t do anything united, not even play ball. Even their African American coach was a fuckup who didn’t show from time to time.

  After practice I saw her walking up, still moving swiftly, even with the extra weight in her hands. The team was just letting out so they all saw her coming too. So did Naja.

  Bangs came up quietly and sat on the wall with her daughter silently, giving me a chance to play her off and keep on walking past if that’s what I wanted to do. I walked over and sat on the wall beside her instead.

  “Bangs, this is my sister, Naja,” I introduced them.

  “Bangs, what does that mean?” Naja asked.

  “Ask your brother. He gave me that name,” she said, blushing, her pretty dimples showing up for every smile.

  “You gave her a name?” Naja repeated, shocked. “Then you must be close to her. You said don’t give something a name because you’ll grow closer to it, right?” Naja asked me.

  “I was talking about your kitten,” I said calmly, trying to move her on to the next topic.

  “Ooh! I love cats. Can I see it?” Bangs asked.

  “If you let me see your baby, I’ll let you see my kitten,” Naja said. Then they traded. “Put your arm up like this, so the baby’s head won’t fall back.” I demonstrated for Naja.

  “Is that what you do when you hold the baby?” Naja asked me.

  “That’s what I did when I held you,” I answered.

  “Did you give this baby her name too?” Naja pushed.

  “No, I didn’t,” I said, trying to remain cool. Meanwhile, Bangs was caught up with the kitten.

  “Who did?” Naja asked.

  “I named her,” Bangs answered, finally realizing she was dealing with a clever-speaking little girl who was very protective over her big brother.

  “So how long have you known my brother?” Naja asked her.

  “You don’t have to answer that,” I told Bangs.

  “About a month and a half or so,” she answered.

  “Do you know his wife, Akemi? She’s very pretty!” Naja told. Bangs’ happy-going expression shifted to a look like someone kicked her in a soft space on her body. After she saw that Naja might be get
ting the exact reaction she wanted, she straightened her face up and responded.

  “I haven’t met her. But I’m pretty too. Don’t you think so?” Bangs asked.

  “Not as pretty as Akemi. Besides, you already have a baby,” Naja added. “Where’s your husband?” Naja handed over the baby and took back her kitten.

  “That’s enough,” I told Naja. Her little body stiffened. Then she settled down some, although her eyes were still rolling around with suspicion.

  “Supastar, can I talk to you for one minute?” Bangs asked.

  “Superstar?” Naja complained. Bangs and me stepped away a few feet.

  “Tell the truth, don’t you see that me and you go nice together?” she asked.

  “We probably could if I wasn’t who I am,” I said.

  “What?” she asked.

  “See, Bangs, you don’t even know me. First off, I’m Muslim. I can’t mess with no females who I’m not married to.” Her eyes widened to twice their size, it seemed.

  “I knew some Muslim guys and they wasn’t like that,” she said.

  “They weren’t serious,” I said.

  “So what are you saying then?” she asked stupidly.

  “I’m not supposed to even be chilling with you like how we were. I mean, you asked me to tell the truth, right? Look at you. Your body is crazy. How long do you think we could sit around each other and not end up wrapped up into something heavy? And once I went into you, why would I ever stop? And how could that be fair to you, when I know better?”

  “I don’t see nothing wrong in it,” she said.

  “That’s one of the problems too. You don’t see nothing wrong with it. And whose pants were thrown across the mattress upstairs in your house?” I asked. She was caught off guard. She paused.

  “They must’ve been my uncle’s,” she said.

  “You told me there were only females living in the whole house, you, Granny, and the baby,” I reminded her.

  “He doesn’t live there. He just shows up sometimes.”

  “What about the condom?” I asked her.

  “What condom?” She was playing dumb.

  “The ones that were missing from your box and lying next to the pants and the bottle of Wild Irish Rose,” I pushed. She gasped like she was caught in something.

  “He must’ve snuck and did something with somebody up there. He took the condom out my box. He’s always taking something without asking,” she said.

  It sounded true.

  “You see, Bangs, I can’t do none of this with you. I’d end up killing somebody.”

  She stepped in close to my body. Instead of getting turned off, she was getting turned on and her nipples were poking through her bra and her T-shirt. Suddenly there was a moist spot spreading. Her milk was leaking.

  “I gotta go,” I said.

  “Please walk me home,” she asked. By now she caught on that I thought that was the right thing to do, walk a female home to safety.

  “C’mon, Naja, let’s go,” I said.

  “Where are we going?” Naja asked.

  “We’re gonna walk Bangs home and then we’ll go and meet Umma.”

  “You know where she lives?” Naja started up again.

  “Yes, I do,” I answered her.

  “Did you tell Umma about her?” Naja asked.

  “No, I didn’t,” I answered her.

  “Ooh, you lied then,” Naja said.

  “I didn’t lie. I just did not mention it,” I defended myself.

  “Well, you better hurry up and tell Umma before your secret becomes a lie. The truth is better than a lie every time!” she reminded me.

  I saw his dark shadow cast on the stoop in front of Bangs’ house. She saw it too. Her entire face changed.

  “There go his stupid ass again,” she said. “Why don’t he go back to his house?” As we approached the stoop, Naja asked Bangs, “Who’s he?”

  “He’s nobody,” she said to Naja.

  “He’s not your father?” Naja questioned.

  “Nope, he’s my uncle. He’s my mother’s brother.”

  “Alright later,” I told her when we reached her steps.

  “Good night, Uncle Nobody. Good night, Baby,” Naja said for anyone to hear.

  Bangs walked past her uncle without speaking and entered her home.

  I took Naja’s hand in mine and picked up our pace to the train station. When we got seated, I asked her, “Why did you act that way towards Bangs?”

  “Because I like Akemi,” she answered.

  “Just because you like Akemi, do you have to make Bangs feel bad?”

  “Why should she feel bad? What does she want from you anyway?” Naja asked.

  “No female likes to be told that another female looks better than her,” I said.

  “You’re confusing me,” my little sister said. “Last night I got in trouble for telling a lie. Tonight I am getting in trouble for telling the truth. Would you rather I did not say anything?” she asked without one bit of sarcasm. “And you said if I hide something, it’s because I know it’s wrong. Will we tell Umma about my kitten and the girl and her baby?” she asked with innocence.

  “Yes. We will tell Umma everything. It’s the right thing to do.” I felt forced to represent the truth.

  When we met up with Umma, my sister immediately revealed that she still had the kitten. Tired, Umma said, “The kitten can stay closed in your room for one more night. In the morning I’ll ask your brother to do something with it.” Naja was excited and really disappointed at the same time.

  Later that night, I thought about how Naja did not say one word to Umma about meeting Bangs or the baby. She looked out for me and held it in, even though things did not turn out the way she wanted them to with the kitten. I appreciated her. I realized she really only wanted to accomplish one thing by acting up in front of Bangs. She wanted to keep her brother away from a situation she knew our mother would not approve of. A situation she felt, even in her young age, was also not right for me.

  It was probably unfair to ask my sleepy mother a deep question. Yet I wanted to hear her sincere answer.

  “We come from a country where Islam is the law. How can we remain Islamic in a country where almost no one believes as we do?” I asked.

  “What is making you ask this question?” she said, looking intensely concerned.

  “Islam gives women rules to be modest, to cover, to marry, to be faithful, to pray. I’m surrounded by females who don’t do any of that and they keep coming at me all day, all night long,” I confessed.

  “They are all a test of your faith,” she said.

  “Many of them will come, but they are not what is best for you, me, your sister, our family, your children to come, inshallah. You have chosen a wife, never trade her for a lesser thing,” Umma said with a certainty.

  “I wouldn’t think of trading Akemi,” I assured Umma. “But why would anyone want to give a young man such a difficult test of faith?” I asked sincerely.

  “Allah is above comprehension,” she answered. “Allah is the best knower of all things.”

  In my room, I sorted out my thoughts and feelings.

  I decided I owed it to Bangs to do something special for her. She really looked out for me on the night that the cops were head-hunting. For two days she held on to my gun, and as far as I can see, she didn’t fuck with it. Her waiting for me by her window when she heard the police sirens saved me from what could have been a completely different outcome. I couldn’t front on any of those facts. Still I couldn’t give her what she really wanted either, without frontin’ on my beliefs, my family, and my wife.

  But I could give her something that I thought she needed.

  Afterwards, I would break it off with her. I already knew from the way I acted at the party that night, and what I saw and felt in her bedroom, that the temptation towards her was too great. The pussy was too easy. The pussy was probably so good, but good pussy is not enough and her pussy is not mine.

&n
bsp; • • •

  For Naja, I used my charm on Ms. Marcy. It wasn’t difficult to convince her to agree to keep the kitten at her place, since I agreed to pay for the cat food, supplies, and maintenance. Ms. Marcy had no one else living in her apartment, which is the only reason we allowed and paid her to care for Naja. Aside from the money, she was very attached to Naja, and Naja was very attached to the kitten. So it worked out.

  49

  THE KEY

  Around 9:00 A.M., I showed up at Bangs’ house knowing that she would be in school. I rang the bell. I saw Granny push back her curtain and see who was standing there. Seconds later, she appeared at her front door, still sleepy and sluggish.

  “Good morning, Ms. Kelly,” I said.

  “It sure is a good morning, you coming here and saying ‘good morning.’ I haven’t heard that kind of talk from a youth in a long time,” she said, still complaining.

  “I have an idea about a surprise for your granddaughter,” I told her. She brightened up and listened. She smiled and nodded the entire way through my speaking to her.

  Afterwards, she gave me the key to their home. “Take this, just in case I’m asleep when you get back.” I took the key.

  “Oh, and what’s Bangs’ favorite color?” I asked.

  “Tiffany’s favorite color is red.”

  “Pick something else, her next favorite,” I asked.

  “Purple,” she answered.

  At their local hardware store, I picked lilac. I figured Bangs was already too amped up for the color red. It would just excite her more than she already was. And purple seemed too dark. I thought it might sadden her. Lilac was more of a peaceful, girly color. Maybe it would help her to calm down a bit, and mellow.

  In Bangs’ room, I pushed all of her old furniture to the center. I threw the drop cloth down to protect it. I lined the perimeter of her walls, floors, doors, and doorknobs with masking tape.

  I wasn’t about to do no dope-ass mural. I am not a painter. But I was about to paint her room to make her feel good. I was about to cover up her walls that seemed neglected for at least Bangs’ entire lifetime. From what I knew about females, they don’t like to live a life without beauty and beautiful colors and surroundings, at least the females who I know and love do not.