Chapter 19
I tossed and turned through the night, my mind cycling through disturbing questions. What if Jay was everything I’d hoped he wouldn’t be? What if he and his father were just like the Buchanans?
Morning came with the wail of a harmonica outside the window—someone was playing the Livery Stable Blues. As I walked into
eighteen.
Did I feel any different? Not really.
The phone rang in the late morning, and I almost didn’t bother picking it up. I figured it was one of Auntie’s friends calling,
but when I answered, Jay’s voice came through.
“Nick? That you?”
I straightened, surprised. “Hey, Jay. Everything okay?”
“Everything’s great. Still free today?”
I hesitated. “Uh . . . I guess. Why?”
“To spend the day together. Just you and me. Sorry I ditched you at the gala, just . . . needed some air.”
I frowned, feeling queasy about where this invitation was coming from, feeling like I was being set up.
“Did something happen?” I asked.
Jay laughed, like he found my suspicion amusing. “Nothing but your birthday. I’m not letting you sit around like it’s just
any other day.”
I froze, the words catching me off guard. How did he know? I hadn’t told him, not that I could remember—or anyone, for that
matter.
“You know my birthday?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended.
“Of course—they’re all in the West Egg directory,” he said, like it was obvious.
I laughed a bit through a pause.
When Jay spoke again, his voice was steady, serious. “Be ready in an hour? Wear something light—it’s going to be a warm one.”
Was I crazy to hold my chaotic thoughts in for one day? To allow my worries to fall away, for our last day of the weekend,
for one drive to Coney Island?
Instead of talking, I hung my head out the window and let my hair catch the breeze.
Jay reached over and placed a hand on my thigh. I couldn’t see his eyes because of the sunglasses, so he had the upper hand,
and he caught me off guard.
When we arrived, the wind from the beach had bite to it, with the clouds trying to outdo the sunshine. I carried the basket and blanket from the car and laid them on the sand. I crossed my ankles in my red shoes and admired how they looked, like a vibrant Christmas bow.
I was close enough to the water to feel a sense of danger but far enough to avoid getting wet. I felt so in my element with
this much sun on my arms. It confirmed my want for a farm and a simple, quiet life, and for nobody but Jay to know where I
was. I wanted to ignore the things that kept me wound so tight and enjoy my day without distraction.
But Jay did not stop to chat with me, so I couldn’t bring up what I’d found in Buchanan’s study, even if I wanted to. Jay
had this American flag kite that he had to fly down the beach. He started running across the mostly empty beach with it, looking
up and back down as he tried to get it to fly. Each time the kite fell, he ran faster to keep it flying, and he shrank away
from me, his slip-ons slipping off.
The ocean lurched closer to my blanket, its tongue stretching out for my toes. The endless water made me want to board a ship,
travel across the ocean to the Kingdom of Benin.
That’s where my great-grandpa Sumner was from—a place full of shining palaces and busy merchant squares.
The people used to trade with Europeans, selling slaves for guns and other weapons.
Slavers wanted to be rich, so they would kidnap kids from their homes while their parents were at work.
My great-grandpa was eight when he was kidnapped and sold to an English slaver.
The slaver threw him into a ship cargo with two hundred others before his parents noticed he was gone.
They were headed for the United States. Some people knew what was in store, so they jumped overboard, but Great-Grandpa Sumner did not know where they were going.
Above me, birds soared upwind like flying ashes.
I thought of Great-Grandpa Sumner randomly sometimes and wondered what he did on that ship. If he had to use a chain for a
pillow or eat wood to feel full. If he could manage to make it, pushing for years through his sadness to build a free life,
I could too, right?
Jay was coming back now and laughing with joy because the kite was flying high. Would he turn out exactly like his father,
wasting money on things that were unjust?
A lonely feeling banged my heart between its cymbals as I took stock of how long I’d been by myself on our beach date. I must’ve
been a boring conversation partner.
He rejoined me finally at the blanket, picked an apple from our basket, and sank his teeth into it, so viciously the juice
ran down his chin stubble. “This is really ripe,” Jay said. “What else do you want for your birthday?”
He looked so good with his loose shirt blowing against his frame, I wanted to devour him like the meat of a coconut. There
was no easy way to say that, no easy way to say that despite my suspicions of him, one look at him made my thoughts fall away.
This was one time I did not want him to hear my thoughts. But windblown and talking about a ripe apple was one of my favorite
versions of him.
And there was the ocean, planning our eventual demise, surging with the blood of my people. I wanted a mind like the sea that went on and on and on, until it forgot about civilization. One day I’d be one with the sea. Before then, I’d have Jay in every way he’d have me back.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Just hanging out is fine.”
He reached out to run his fingers through my hair and then twitched as if he wanted to check for witnesses. But, in the next
moment, he decided he didn’t care. He’d feel me regardless.
I always thought love was something I’d have to change myself to find. That I wasn’t enough for it. Love would find me fine!
When I was with Jay, I was realized without changing a thing.
Jay cleared his throat and looked over at me, his voice low and serious. “I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he began,
keeping his gaze on the water. “About leaving it all behind. Running away together.”
I felt a rush of adrenaline. “And?”
“I can say I don’t hate the idea.” He glanced at me, his eyes bright. “To be somewhere with just you, away from all of them,
sounds nice.”
My heart beat harder with the thought of escape. This was the opening I needed, but what if, at the mention of his father,
I scared Jay away?
Surely, I could test where Jay’s morals truly lay, without asking him to betray his father. Before I could hesitate, I said,
“Jay, there’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
He raised an eyebrow as he watched me. “All right. What is it?”
“That night I went to Pierre’s place . . . I found something that makes me think Buchanan is paying to drive Negroes out of
Harlem and covering it up. Do you know about any of this?”
“It’s like I said—I never trusted Buchanan. He’s hateful and would do anything to convince people he isn’t, just so he can
get away with it.” Jay nodded. “All the more reason for us to do this, right? Now you mentioned wanting me to throw a party
at the beginning of all this.”
“Your father likes throwing parties,” I said, my worries only mildly soothed by Jay’s answer. “Isn’t that, right?”
“He used to do so.” Jay considered that, running a hand through his hair as he processed. “Not so much anymore.”
I nodded. “He’ll need an incentive then, one that will have everyone wanting to come as well. Daisy already foresaw this problem.”
“Of course.” He laughed. “And did she come up with a solution?”
“An engagement party for you.”
Jay weighed my words, mentally. “And who am I marrying?”
“Daisy.”
Jay laughed. “That would be very nice, yes. I’ll talk to him about it.”
“Will you?” I said with a laugh.
“No!” Jay answered, brushing it off. “Of course not! Why would I marry your cousin?”
Perhaps this didn’t matter in the moment. There were more pressing things at hand.
“Have we decided where we move when we’re done with all this?” I asked.
“Paris?” he said.
“Too far.”
“Egypt.”
“Too far. We gotta go back to Oklahoma.”
The sound of the waves was soothing and relentless in the following silence.
Jay chuckled and drew a line in the sand with his finger. “I’m not living in Oklahoma, Nick.”
“Why not?”
“Is that rhetorical?” he said, laughing.
“Um, no?”
“It’s not for me,” he said. “But at the end of it all, I’m with you. Whatever you want.”
I wanted to believe it, but whatever was a very strong word, and he wasn’t looking at me.
The tide whispered to us as it crept closer to our feet. I watched Jay, and he watched the waves. Somewhere between us, the
full truth lingered, distant as the horizon itself.