CHAPTER 10 #3
A guy from a block over traded a pack of Newports for a gallon of bottled water.
A mother handed over a pack of diapers for some canned goods.
There was no ‘customer’ and ‘owner’, just survivors in a shared wreckage.
As we dragged the salt toward Miss Pearl’s, we saw the block breathing.
Every few houses, a thin curl of woodsmoke rose from a chimney or a vent.
Neighbors was out with hammers, chipping ice off each other's stairs so the elders wouldn't slip.
It was ugly. It was freezing. It was a landscape of rusted steel and dirty ice.
But the block was a closed loop. If one house went cold, the house next door opened its kitchen.
We didn't survive the ice storm of '94 because we was strong.
We survived because the person next to you refused to let you go out in the dark.
FIREWORKS
Six months later, the ice was a hallucination.
July 4, hit West Philly, like a physical blow, part of a record-breaking heat wave that eventually made that month the hottest in the city's recorded history at the time.
That bruised gray sky of January was replaced by a white-hot haze that made the asphalt soft enough to hold a footprint.
The rowhomes now ovens, radiating a dry, dusty heat that smelled of sun-baked brick and charcoal.
The ecosystem had shifted gears again. The sizzle of hot dogs on a grill, the distant thump of a speaker down the street, and the rhythmic clack-clack of a double-dutch rope hitting the wet ground.
The block was alive, humming in the 90-degree heat.
Six months ago, we was surviving the dark, now we was basking in the light.
The money was still thin, and the world was still tough, but for today, the only threat was the sun.
The Fourth of July festivities kicked off early that year. Mama was bustling around the house before the sun reached its peak. The sound of clanking pots and opening cabinets filled the air, creating an energy that matched the importance of the day.
“Get up, let’s go!” she called out.
“We got plans today.”
I was still shaking off sleep, eyes barely open. Shay was up moving when I got out of bed. Sinceer and Saiyd woke up with too much energy. Running back and forth through the hallway, feet slapping the floor, arguing over nothing and everything at the same time.
“That’s mine!”
“No it’s not!”
“Yes it is!”
Mama didn’t bother turning around.
“If I come in there!” she threatened.
They piped down for about three seconds and was right back at it.
When I made it downstairs, they was dressed halfway, shirts on, shorts twisted, one sock missing between the two of them, it probably disappeared on purpose.
Shay paused in the entryway dressed and ready, eyeballing them with that face that said she wasn’t claiming none of it.
“Y’all doin’ too much,” she barked.
Saiyd darted past her, knocking into her leg.
“Move, you in da way!”
“I will move you lil’ boy,” she shot back.
Mama turned, hands firmly on her hips.
“Come here,” she said, grabbing Saiyd and straightening his shirt, pulling Sinceer close to fix his collar. Her hands moved fast, practiced, like she been doing this all her life.
“Stay togetha when we get downtown,” she ordered, tapping both their heads.
“And don’t let me be callin’ y’all names all day.”
They agreed not really listening, they was just ready to get outside.
“Y’all come on dang, my friends are waitin’. Mama you ready?”
Shay was rushing everyone. She sported a fitted white tank tucked into high-waisted denim shorts. Her sneakers clean, laces tight, stance even tighter. Hair pulled back slick, baby hairs laid sharp. She was the spitting image of a younger Mama.
“You move so slow, come on.” she said, smirking.
I rolled my eyes.
I had on a pink baby tee knotted at the waist and terry cloth shorts. My low-top sneakers scuffed from the pavement. My hair loose down my back, thick and full, edges brushed neat, and a touch of gloss catching the light. You know, put together, but not trying too hard.
We crossed the bridge into the outside world. Music bled from a distant speaker, cutting through the usual tension of the street. Folks was hitting the pavement, hustling to set the scene before the sun could finish rising. Around here, you don't gamble with the time you given.
Mama had us moving though.
“Alright,” she announced, locking the door behind us.
“We goin’ downtown to tha festival.”
Going downtown was a big statement, a break from the usual cycle that we didn't get on a regular.
Mama was fly too. She wore a lightweight dress moving with the breeze, sandals on her feet, arms bare and strong from carrying more than she ever admitted.
A dash of perfume lurked behind her when she went past, a subtle, sweet scent that didn’t match how hard she worked.
That was Mama, put together in a way that said she remained in control over everything.
The bus ride was packed. People dressed in red, white, and blue, kids bouncing in their seats, windows opened to let the summer air push in. I peered out the glass, witnessing the scenery evolve as we drove around town.
Sinceer stayed calm beside me, his small hands folded in his lap.
Saiyd bounced in his seat, like he might take off.
Shay rode upfront away from us, devoted to standing on her own.
When we hopped off the bus, it was a flood of people.
All moving with an intense rhythm, like the city’s pulse was turned up to the max.
Families all over. Vendors stacked up selling all type of stuff, flags, food, mini toys that lit up and spun in the air.
Voices collided and bodies blurred, a shuffling tide of shoulders and elbows.
Sinceer and Saiyd glitched for a second, for them the city got bigger all at once.
Mama kept us within arms reach.
“Stay close,” she warned.
“Don’t let go of my hand,” Mama added quick, reaching for their hands. Too late. They was pulling forward, trying to see the whole world.
“Look!” Saiyd pointed, jumping up.
“Balloons!”
“Boy, stop pullin’ me.” Mama replied, grabbing his shirt before he could take off.
Sinceer remained close to Mama. His eyes moving discretely, tracking it all, the people, the buildings, the noise.
We weaved in and out of the sea of people, Mama keeping us anchored around her, she worried that we could disappear if she let go too long.
A vendor traveled past with spinning light toys, Saiyd lost it.
“I want one!” he cried, reaching for it.
Mama shot him that look.
“You betta put yo’ hand down.”
He listened.
Sinceer bent toward me, his voice a literal whisper,
“It’s a lot of people,” he shared. It wasn’t fear, merely stating a fact. Classic Sinceer.
“Yeah, I see.” I responded.
“It’s all good tho, jus’ have fun.”
He moved his head up and down, meticulously filing the moment away.
I caught sight of Mia holding down a spot near one of the booths with her mama.
She had on a white crop top, denim shorts and some Air Max ‘90s.
She was fanning herself with a dampened ‘Welcome America’ festival flyer.
She had a blue freeze-pop in one hand and her hair piled high to keep it off her neck. She spotted me in the crowd and beamed.
“Summer!”
I yanked Mama’s shirt.
“That’s Mia!”
Mama looked my way and signaled her approval.
“Stay where I can see you.”
We collided in a hug like years had passed since we last spoke.
“I ain’t know you was comin’ down here too.” I said scrunching my face in confusion.
“Yeah,” she remarked, shrugged her shoulders, to her it wasn’t a big deal.
“We come every year.”
We wandered through the buzzing crowd together, trading snacks and pointing at every little thing, chatting with that wide-eyed wonder you only have as a kid. The mob got thicker as the sun started to lower.
We caught back up with Mama and the twins by a hot dog stand.
Mama stood guard over them while Saiyd’s hands mapped out a story that had probably been telling since I left them earlier.
Sinceer stayed still at Mama’s side, letting the city’s static wash right past him.
We slid in with them, the smell of grilled onions and grease hanging strong in the air.
Me and Mia split a chili cheese fry, passing it back and forth, fingers messy, not caring.
We ditched the trash and dissolved into the crowd, our pace dragging as we passed stalls peddling junk that had no business being beautiful, but we stared anyway.
Shay came up behind us with her homegirls, Tasha and Kamri.
Their pace stuttered near the group of boys posted on the corner.
It was a play for attention. Their laughter turned performative, hands telling stories while they checked themselves in the glass windows of a building.
“Boy, whateva you not even funny.” Tasha threw out, her mouth curving into a dangerous grin.
One of the boys dropped a low-end joke, barely deep enough to snag her focus.
Kamri’s eyes flashed with a dismissive roll.
Shay kept her mouth shut. Silent, except for the thin smirk and a slight tilt of the head, like she was listening to a song only she could hear.
She had already marked the dead ends while her friends was still catching they breath.
They could have these little boys, Shay wanted a boss.
From our patch of concrete, we watched the play unfold. Me and Mia was close enough to feel the heat of whatever was going down, but far enough so Shay wouldn’t say I was meddling.
"They doin’ the most," Mia muttered in judgment of the scene unfolding ahead.
I didn't answer, I let my gaze track the friction. Seeing them move like that, watching the boys fall into line, it was a heavy, complex kind of coming-of-age.
Up ahead, the air thickened around a group of dancers. A beat started to bleed into the sidewalk, pulling in the stragglers. Mia’s eyes met mine, a silent agreement.
"Oh we stayin’ for dis," she commanded. I didn't wait to answer, I was already cutting through the pack toward the noise.
We moved in a tight line, Mama at point.
Shay hung back, trailing us with a calculated distance.
I had the twins in my shadow, until the mob’s static spiked.
A rush of strangers, a stroller slicing through the gap.
A shoulder check here, a group whipping through there.
In the heartbeat it took to blink, the twins had vanished into the noise.