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“…I gotta get into an anger treatment program here. I don’t know why, but I ’spose it’ll help pass the time,” Cain announced. “But uh, thanks again for the crossword puzzles, Jude.”
“Sure thing.”
“Congratulations on your pending nuptials, brother, too. Funny, Aunt DeeDee knew before me.” He chuckled. Aunt DeeDee was their mother’s sister who lived in Newark, New Jersey. She’d moved away from Tennessee before he was even born, having fled from her physically abusive ex-husband, but would visit on occasion. Oddly enough, she’d reached out to both of them a few weeks prior, after years of no contact, stating she wanted to get the family together for the holidays. “I wish that I uh,” he cleared his throat, “could be there to attend. Maybe they’ll let me watch it on Zoom, or somethin’ like that.”
“Yeah,” Jude tapped some ashes onto the asphalt. “It’ll be broadcast for the folks who can’t make it in person. We’re livin’ in a new day and age.”
“The picture you emailed me of ’er was nice. Good lookin’ woman. Somebody else told me you was into Black girls,” Cain said, “but I never thought nothin’ of it. Never seen you with any, but I ain’t surprised. You were always a player. Might as well taste the whole gotdamn rainbow I guess.”
“Ain’t about the color, it’s ’bout the girl. A woman is a woman, in my book. If she’s good lookin’, then she’s good lookin’. Make no difference what color her skin is. All I give a shit about is if she’s good in bed, got a good head on her shoulders, can cook a decent meal every now and again, and is a good person. I sure as hell didn’t wanna be with someone like me.” He laughed, poking fun at himself. “And you’ve seen me with a Black girl before, you just forget. Rachel… remember her?”
“Oh, yeah! That was when you were like twenty-one or somethin’… Mama and Daddy ain’t raise us to be prejudiced, no way, Jude. We both got friends of all sorts. I ain’t never hear Daddy or Mama call nobody a nigger or chink, nothin’ like that. I’ve let it slip out a few times when I was younger, but I never meant that shit. I was just tryna fit in.”
Jude nodded in understanding.
“Yeah, well, we know what type of folks we got in the family and some of our childhood friends and neighbors aren’t any damn better, but I don’t give a shit who says it, Cain—blood or mud, if I hear anyone call my girl a fuckin’ nigger, I’m going to knock their fuckin’ teeth down their gotdamn throat. I don’t give a shit. If I stabbed a motherfucker for callin’ my ex a bitch, then I will surely do the same, or worse, for the latter.”
“Yeah, I know. I don’t care about being called a hillbilly or redneck, but I know that for some Black people, that ain’t the same difference.”
“That’s just the thing though. We can’t tell other folks what to be comfortable being called. That’s not right. Only people from that group can decide what’s all right and what’s not. I don’t give a shit about being called White trash, either, and all the other shit you and me were told we were, but I ain’t never experienced racism, though I have experienced discrimination, just a different sort. Still, I can’t tell Iris what to be offended about, and she can’t tell me. I just know what the hell I’m not gonna tolerate when it comes to others’ treatment of her. Either call her by her name or don’t call her at all.” He took another drag of his cigarette. “And it’s stupid, if ya ask me. Callin’ somebody a nigger… It’s almost like a child having a temper tantrum… tryna hurt someone with that word… when it’s done so much, it ain’t even got the same power. It just makes the person saying it look stupid and weak as fuck. If you gotta talk about someone’s race to insult them, you’ve already lost the damn argument.”
“Mama said people are people. Good ’nd bad in all races. I ain’t never dated no Black girl, though. But I sometimes wondered about it.”
“Wondered about what? Dating Black women? You ain’t never even mentioned that before.”
“I know, but I wondered. Like, if it would be different.”
“You must be talking about sexually… fuckin’ pervert.”
Both burst out laughing.
“Yeah, I ’spose. Well? Is it different?”
“Not really, but it depends on what turns you on. I’ve been with enough White and Black women to tell you that it feels the same. All women’s bodies are different, but you know what I mean. And you have the same type of arguments with ’em, too.” He snickered. “This is a dumb ass conversation. We sound like two thirteen-year-old White boys lookin’ at a Black porno for the first time.” He shook his head. “Bottom line is, women are women, man.”
“I regret not exploring my options. I don’t know. I wish I would’ve traveled more, like you. You went to all sorts of places. I was content stayin’ in Tennessee. Now, I can’t go nowhere but to four different walls. I wish I was gettin’ away somewhere special. I regret a lotta shit.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Too late now…”
“I heard when that motherfucker socked you in the face, you travelled clean across the cafeteria. One way ticket. How was your stay at the Concussion Hotel?” he quipped.
“You fucker. I love ya, Jude. You sound happy.”
“I am.”
“Long as you are happy, I’m happy. Want what’s best for you. I always did.”
“I know you do…”
“Yeah… thank you… You been a good brother.” They both grew silent, their words on ice. So much meaning in that moment—so many words between the hushed lines. Nothing could come between them, not even iron bars. “You know, I was thinkin’ of callin’ Sherry, tellin’ her I love her. I’ve been thinking a lot about her lately, Jude.”
A knot formed in Jude’s gut. It felt hefty and low, like a boulder sitting there, refusing to budge.
“What makes you want to do that?”
“Because she was probably the only woman, ’sides Grandma and Mama, who loved me. I know I can’t start over with her behind bars, but—”
“Look, I didn’t want to tell you this, but since you’re over there getting sentimental and all, you need to know that Sherry’s been gettin’ fresh with me, Cain.”
“WHAT?! Comin’ on to you?! My Sherry? The mother of my son?!”
