Two
TWO
Orlando
T he mailbox key barely pushing into the slot told me everything I needed. The small mail room smelled of newspaper and cardboard, a bunch of Amazon packages piled high in a corner. Testament to the tight-knit community we had in this building that the packages didn’t disappear daily. The unspoken rule was: run down by 6:00 p.m. to get your package after all the major deliveries happened, and you’re good. It’s a free game from eight in the morning till midday when the deliveries start again. That’s why I was in the mail room, getting my latest package before the sun went down. I didn’t intend to check my packages until next Monday. Pretending things wouldn’t change was the main reason for my delay.
Pushing all the air out of my lungs, I pulled the key out of the slot and stared at the apartment number I shared with my mom and my two younger brothers. The offending mailbox stared back at me. How can an innate object carry so much judgment about my bravery?
“Nah, son, if I open you, it’s a warp. Then I have to read what’s inside there, and I ain’t ready.”
“Does talking to the mailbox help decrease the amount of bills? Because if it does, I might try that approach.” Fast on my feet, I whirled to find Mrs. Barranco’s wrinkly face and mischievous smile.
“Damn, Seno B, you almost gave me a heart attack.” I pressed my hand on my chest and stumbled back for a bit of drama.
“Ay por favor. You’re nowhere close to having a heart attack when your mama just finished wiping your butt a year ago.”
Kissing my teeth after an octogenarian said something would be considered rude and disrespectful, so I didn’t go that route. But clearly, between Sra. Barranco and me, the comedian was her, because my mother hadn’t ever been that attentive, and I had to learn really early how to take care of her, myself, and my siblings. Shit, I was probably wiping when I was three years old.
“Now, Seno B, you well know I’m the most mature twenty-five-year-old you’ve ever met.”
“Hmm.” Sra. Barranco’s smirk didn’t faze me. She’d said that shit to me plenty of times when she saw and heard Mom in one of her episodes, after I’d calmed her down. Or when she saw me making sure the boys had what they needed for school.
“Nah, don’t hurt my feelings now.” I rubbed my hands together and gave her a little twinkle-twinkle for extra humph.
“Oh please, did you decide when to go to Ofele Town? Did you make the plans?”
And just like that, my chest was tight again. First, the mailbox awaiting to dictate my faith, and now Sra. Barranco reminds me of my impending fatherhood.
I guess it wasn’t impending when my child was already three years old and living in Ofele Town in Florida. But I hadn’t known of the existence of said child until Ms. B here decided to share the news a few weeks ago. Maria, her grandchild, and her parents had decided against telling me. Fuck knows why. I was good to Maria. Yeah, we weren’t sweethearts or anything, but I’d never abandon her and my child if I’d known. Co-parenting would have worked for us.
“Yeah, you know they have carnival over there? I’m going with my friends in a few weeks.” My smart watch vibrated, reminding me of said friends waiting for me in our favorite coffee shop. “Damn, sorry, Seno B, I gotta run.” I ignored the judging stares of both Sra. Barranco and the inanimate object behind me and power walked toward the exit.
“Do you…so you’re not gonna check those admission letters then?” Sra. B’s question stopped me cold.
“How you know?”
“Tú mama is very proud. First, you finish your degree in three years and get that great job finding the kids who fiddle with those funny-looking cartoons in la computadora. I mean, if they wanna pay you all that money to find people who doodle, that sounds like a good investment of your three years, okay?”
Yo! I’d never heard my job described like that. Forget my job description under Animation Talent Expert. I should have used what Seno B said. Now, the rest about Ma, yeah, I was gonna sidestep the hell out of that landmine.
“Cool, well then, you know I can check it later, maybe Monday. I did early submissions, so there is time to accept.”
“Mm-hmm. Alright then, see you around. But if you wanna talk…you know you got people that truly see you, right?”
Yeah, Ms. B was definitely the better comedian out of the two of us ’cause she had jokes for days.
* * *
“Damn, son, why you took so long?” Franco’s loud ass greeted me the moment I entered our favorite spot. Franco sat in a corner, charming smile on full display as he attempted to make eye contact with two ladies at the next table. He kept stroking his chin, and what he thought was a beard, but what we all knew was fuzz. He was lucky his mother gave him some good looks, good melanin, and the best cooking skills ’cause his game was weak otherwise.
“Damn, chill; we didn’t set an exact time.”
“But we did, ugh. I sent it in the group chat. Why am I best friends with guys only?” Grace, our Black pixie queen, lamented next to Franco.
“See, he didn’t accept the invite to the new group chat, babe,” Desmond, my third best friend, said, lounging in the booth, observing Franco’s failed attempts and Grace’s growing exasperation.
“I’m not your babe.” Grace gritted her teeth.
“Not anymore…” Franco and I whispered and guffawed when we realized we said the same thing.
“You’ll always be my babe. Stop playin’.” Desmond winked at Grace, deploying his Dominican and Jamaican charm. The reason why Grace no longer allowed him to call her babe after a year of dating. She should have known better, though.
“If you don’t stop, I’ll leave.” Grace shrugged in her cute summer dress that was probably driving Desmond wild. Served him right. Grace was a gift, and he squandered that shit with his lack of communication—to the point he had her believing they were in a nonmonogamous relationship, but he kept getting mad when she was dating other people. She grew tired of all the mixed messages and dropped him. If only he’d been upfront with her…and what he really wanted…shit would have been different.
Now, Grace was dating a nice girl from Manhattan who took her to raves on Fridays and farmer’s markets on Sundays and brought her backpack when she spent the night. And shorty was okay with Grace dating other people, for real. I had never seen Grace happier. Low-key, I was jealous of her, living her life and doing the things she wanted unencumbered by other responsibilities.
Hell, all my friends were living their best lives.
“Quédate, please. I’ll behave,” Desmond said, contrite.
“Good,” Grace said. “Now look at the table that Franco keeps drooling at; that is Gina Star.”
“Oh shit!” I plopped next to Desmond, his grumble loud as I made him scoot.
“Grace, that’s why you mah my main one. I’ve been trying to reach her via social media with no success. She’s mad talented. I really think she would be a good fit at my company.”
“That’s great! Then go ahead and talk to her.”
“Nah, I don’t want to seem like a creep.”
After much cajoling from Grace and getting heat from Desmond and Franco, I approached Gina Star. Gina was an illustrator I’d found on IG with mad potential to make it big. I wanted to bring her to my company and hopefully get her a great contract. After exchanging info, I ambled back to our table when I realized I wouldn’t be at my company long enough to get her a contract if I accepted the admission to law school.
Fuck.
The instant gut punch at the thought of law school took the air out of me.
No use focusing on that pain though; law school was the path to ensure me and mine would be good, regardless of how I felt about it. There was no gain in overthinking it. No gain in trying to figure out other ways.
Sitting back down, I caught the new topic of conversation, attempting to rally after the reminders of what was coming my way.
“So, I booked us all in the hotel that is the closest to the grounds where they do the carnival, and I finished the last deposit for our band spot and costumes, so we ready for Ofele!” Grace explained.
“Oh… I meant to tell you, Grace, I got a house rental instead, so don’t worry about a room for me in the hotel; I… I want to get there early and do some sightseeing.”
“What the fuck for? The town is small and quaint unless it is Caribbean carnival weekend.” Desmond looked at me sideways.
“You know he an old man in a young man body, probably gonna do some of their walking tours and shit,” Franco said between cackles.
“Don’t listen to them. I think it’s nice that you want to go and explore the town and learn more about its history. I’ve always been fascinated with Ofele and its story. How our Black people there kept it a secret from the white Floridians who were displacing any major Black towns back in the Reconstruction era. And they kept their beaches? Impressive.”
“Yeah…yeah remember Maria? Yeah, she told me about the town. She loved the history behind it too…” Which explained why she found refuge there. I debated saying something to them about how important this trip had become to me. The last fun before law school. The potential of meeting my child.
But the debate was a wasted effort when I already knew the decision. Opening up to these children cosplaying as adults wouldn’t be any type of solution. I was a man who looked for results and didn’t dwell on anything but facts.
Having an extra perspective on my impending meeting with my daughter would be ideal, and Grace would probably be a great sounding board, but it would also bring judgment and outside thoughts I wasn’t ready to deal with. Parenthood was the scariest thing on my horizon, but I could handle it. I had plenty experience with parenting people.
“Oh, boring! Fuck that! I’m going to whine and wuk somebody’s daughter. Dats it.” Franco interrupted my thoughts. Desmond dabbed him up, and they both started making noises to get the attention of the other table with the ladies.
For a second, I really thought I’d be able to talk to them and tell them all my worries, but that’s not the time we were on. That’s not the time they were on. Not even Grace, honestly. She was busy videocalling her girl and planning her next move.
Yeah…better I kept that shit to myself. Better to enjoy the trip and have the best time ever. A stolen moment where I get to be my age for only a few days.
That’s all I needed. Nothing more.