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“Did you find Asher?”
“Yeah.”
“He probably hates me now, huh?”
“He doesn’t hate you, Faith. He just doesn’t understand you sometimes. Max was a good guy. I know you two had your differences, but I think the poem threw Ash for a loop.”
“I can see that. To be honest, I think the poem was less about Max and more about me and the pressure and expectations I put on myself.”
“You’ll get there, Faith. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
I wanted to graduate and become a social worker, but not the same way Faith wanted it. She lived and breathed it, out to prove to everyone that she could make it. Her tenacity was inspiring, but I also wondered if it was impacting on her personal life. Asher hadn’t been wrong, Max was a great guy. Solid and dependable with plans for the future. Most girls dreamed of meeting a guy like that. But not Faith, she’d run the second things got too serious.
“You’re a good friend, Mya.” She took my hand in hers. “Asher’s lucky to have you.” There was something in her eyes that looked a lot like regret, but I didn’t ask.
Faith needed to work things out for herself.
“Come on,” I said. “We should get to class.”
Asher
“You made a quick exit last night,” Diego said as we worked out next to each other.
“Yeah, we had shit to take care of.”
“I bet you did.” He shot me a knowing grin and I managed to flip him off.
“You know you’re punching above your weight with Mya, right?”
“Fuck you, D.” I chuckled. Of course I knew Mya was too good for me. But she was mine, and I didn’t plan on giving her up for anything.
“I’m just busting your balls, she’s a good girl. One of the best. She volunteering again at the center this semester?”
“Yeah, her field practice isn’t until senior year, so she’ll want to get all the hands-on experience she can.”
“She’s a better person than me. Some of those little punks would be cruising for a bruising with the way they talk to the staff there.”
“It's what she wants to do,” I said as if was that simple. And in a way, it was. But Diego was right, the New Hope Community Center worked with some of the most challenging kids living in and around Strawberry Mansion.
“Don’t you ever worry about her being there?”
“What kind of question is that, D? Of course I fucking worry. She’s my...” Everything.
Mya was my everything.
But she wanted to make a difference. She wanted to try to break the cycle of crime, drugs, and poverty so many of the kids in Philly found themselves in. It was important to her.
“It’s not the nineteen-fifties,” I said. “Women don’t want to stay at home, raise the kids, and play Suzy Homemaker.”
“Hey, my momma did just that and she’s one of the best women I know.” His eyes lit up with fondness.
Diego’s mom was a great woman. I’d met her last year, when she’d showed up with Pastel de Elote for the team.
“Mya wants to make a difference,” I said unsure who I was trying to convince more, myself or Diego.
“I hear ya, man. All I’m saying is, it’s a crazy world out there. Don’t think I’d ever rest knowing my girl was in the thick of it.”
My brows furrowed. He made it sound like Mya was going off to war.
