I’m good, I say. But it’s mostly a whisper.
And mostly not true.
See y’all, I say.
They all say Later, ZJ.
Walk their way and I walk mine.
Home from school is only eight blocks. The blocks aren’t that long to walk. Walking them alone on a Friday isn’t the worst thing.
There’s worse stuff.
Like the rain coming down faster now
and no hood on my jacket.
Water pouring down the back of my neck.
Above me, a sky full of clouds.
Deep Water
My grandma calls on Saturday night,
asks me about school
and when we’re coming to visit her—
Soon, I hope. I hold the phone close
to my ear, her voice so clear and soft,
it makes me think of everything and everyone I love.
She lives near Nana B, my dad’s mom,
in a house that has windows all around it and a pool
that she only dips her feet in
because you know I don’t like deep water,
my grandmother always says.
But the pool isn’t deep. When I stand in it,
the water only comes up to my chest.
I like being close to pools, my grandma says,
not in them.
Our pool in Maplewood is deeper than Grandma’s,
goes way over my head at the deepest end
but the shallow end only comes to my knees.
How’s your daddy doing? my grandma asks.
Any better?
I shrug, then, remembering my grandma can’t see me,
say No.
He says his head hurts all the time, I tell her.
He says some days he can’t even see straight.
After a minute, I say He’s missing a lot of his games.
I know, my grandmother says.
Maybe it’s for the best, though. He doesn’t need to
be running on that field if he can’t see straight.
But then what? I ask her.
What’s he gonna do if he can’t play?
Outside, the night is so dark, it looks like a black wall.
When I was a little kid acting crazy, Grandma
would say You’re about to get yourself in deep water, ZJ.
Deep water was trouble.
Deep water was a spanking from her.
Deep water was something I never wanted to be in.
Feels like we’re in deep water, Grandma, I say.
I hear my grandmother sigh. She’s quiet for a while.
Look on the bright side, she finally says.
Now there’s time for him
to bring you out here to see both your grandmas!
I hold the phone even closer to my ear, wanting
to hug her through it. Say
I just want him all better, Grandma.
And even though I know I sound like a little kid,
I say it anyway. I just want him to be Daddy again.
Thanks, Bruh
The doorbell rings late Sunday afternoon and it’s Daniel
standing there in his striped raincoat and blue rain boots,
shivering, his bike with the back wheel still spinning
lying on the lawn. I was thinking, he says, not even
all the way in yet but shaking out of his coat, about the time
when we first met. I don’t know why. Just came to my head.
He takes off his boots, leaves them by the door, follows
me into the living room, rubbing his wet face
with his shirt.
You were the one who said yeah.
Yeah about what?
The fireplace is going, and I’m working on a puzzle
in front of it. It’s a Yeti on top of a mountain, and so far
the Yeti’s head is done.
I sit back down on the floor on one side of it
and Daniel sits on the other, picks up a piece and stares at it.
You said yeah about racing.
I don’t know what Ollie or Darry would’ve said
but you said yeah.
I didn’t know who your daddy was or anything.
Not yet. And even after I found out,
all I really remember is that you were the first
one who said yes.
He finds a place for the puzzle piece and picks up another,
starts putting pieces together like he’s done this puzzle
a hundred times.
Daniel’s not smart like Ollie is. Not school smart.
He fails tests sometimes even
when he studies. But as we sit working
that puzzle and talking,
I realize that he’s a whole nother kind of smart.
He looks over at me and smiles.
The log in the fireplace crackles. Outside it rains and rains.
Daniel and me lean into that puzzle
for the rest of the afternoon.
Two-Hand Touch
I’m watching cartoons when Ollie calls me and
says everybody’s going to the park. You coming?
I’m still in my pj’s but get dressed real fast
and hop on my bike.
It’s sunny out, but cold. The park is crowded, though, and
it’s a minute before I see Ollie’s red Afro out on the field.
Darry’s there too and some other guys, and one of them tosses me the ball.
You got your daddy’s skills? Then I got you on my team.
I catch the ball in my stomach.
Let’s do two-hand touch, I say.
Tackle, the guy says.
I look at Ollie. He looks at me.
I throw the ball back at the guy.
Nah. Then I’m out, I tell him.
All right already, touch, then, the kid says.
Even though, he says, touch ain’t even really football.
From Outside
And some nights everything’s so good. There’s fish fried with cornmeal,