Hoodie (30 page)

“I don’t know, man,” Anton replied. He thought for a moment then added,” Maybe I just gotta go talk to him.”

“Well, you better catch him on a day he ain’t jacked up,” Johnny D said.

“Yeah,” Anton replied, thinking.

He pulled a two liter of soda from the refrigerator and said goodbye to his friends. Emma waved goodbye as they made their way to the counter to pay—Anton chatting with the owner for a few minutes—and then out the door for home. They walked hand in hand at a slow pace though Anton was anxious to get back to the house. The smell that permeated the small grocery store reminded him of his intense hunger. He couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into his mama’s fried chicken. He thought that Emma would never taste such good food. Suddenly all thoughts of Nate vanished.

“Why couldn’t I have a hat like the ones those ladies wore?” Emma asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Anton looked at her patiently. “Emma, lemme explain somethin’ to you about hats. There hats for white people and hats for black people. And they don’t look the same. Now I can’t explain to you how to tell ‘em apart. But you just know when you look at ‘em which ones belong on a white woman’s head and which ones belong on a black woman’s head. And all those hats you saw today belong on a black woman’s head. So no, you can’t have one. You’d look ridiculous.”

Emma had no response. In fact, she remained quiet until they got to his apartment door.

“How do you know so much about hats?” she asked as they made their way into his house.

“I just do,” he replied, but she was not listening.

CHAPTER 20

SUNDAY, MAY 9

She was instantly transported somewhere else. She did not know the place. She had never before been there. It was a place with the most delectable smells, so tempting that they made her stomach grumble and ache the moment she walked over the threshold of the front door. She saw the food laid out on the table. There was the fried chicken that Anton had assaulted earlier, a large casserole dish of homemade macaroni and cheese, a bowl of fried somethings she could not identify, another bowl of leafy greens she was sure she had never tasted, and corn bread. She couldn’t believe her instant starvation and was longing to sit down and pile her plate.

“Okay you two,” Ms. Robinson said. “Come eat.” She was glistening with sweat, and for good reason Emma thought. She had created a feast in thirty minutes!

Anton held out the chair for Emma, and she thanked him as she sat down. Ms. Robinson smiled at her son’s manners. She asked him to say grace when they were all seated with glasses of iced tea and soda. Emma chose the iced tea. She remembered its delicious sweetness from awhile back.

After Anton said the blessing, he addressed Emma: “Okay, so what on this table have you never tasted?”

Emma looked around. “Well, what’s that?” she asked pointing to the bowl with the leafy greens.

“Those are collard greens,” Ms. Robinson replied. “You never had collard greens, honey?”

Emma shook her head.

“I know right?” Anton said. “Shouldn’t that be child neglect or somethin’?”

Ms. Robinson ignored him as she scooped a small portion onto Emma’s plate.

“Well go on and try it,” Anton said.

“Anton, where’s yo’ manners? You ain’t gonna sit here and watch her eat. Lord child, you are so rude sometimes,” Ms. Robinson said.

“I just wanna see how she react,” Anton said. “‘Cause it so good.”

“Emma, would you like some fried okra?” Ms. Robinson said ignoring her son.

“Sure. I’ve never had that either,” Emma replied.

“Now
that
might be considered child neglect,” Ms. Robinson said winking at Emma, and she laughed.

When their plates were filled, Emma dug in. She tasted the collard greens first and decided that there was no better side dish in the world. She wished Ms. Robinson had given her more. The fried chicken was so tender and juicy she wished she could have several pieces though the one on her plate was enormous. But when she moved on to the fried okra, her love affair with Ms. Robinson’s food really began. She could not describe it. She felt like she could eat an entire tub of it, like popcorn. When she finished the first helping, she asked for a second. And even though she knew it would be unmannerly to ask for a third, she did anyway. She couldn’t help it. The switch in her brain that signaled she was full had malfunctioned. She was certain she could sit at the table all day and eat. And eat.

It was not just the taste of the food. There was something in it that she couldn’t get enough of. She thought it had something to do with Ms. Robinson. She tried hard to understand it. It was as if all of the food was laced with love, hard work, and sacrifice. And she could taste each thing specifically. She had never tasted love in food before. Not her mother’s food. Not the food she prepared for herself. And she wondered how to put it in. What was Ms. Robinson’s secret? Was it the way her hands moved as she prepared the dishes? Did she speak it into the food and that’s why she asked them to go to the store? To give her privacy, so that she could work her magic? How did she do it, making Emma feel she could eat forever and never be satisfied?

They chatted pleasantly as Emma ate. She enjoyed listening to the banter between Anton and his mother. It was so easy and natural, and she wished she could talk to her mother like that. Theirs was a special kind of relationship, she thought, one that develops into intense loyalty and absolute love in spite of an absent father. Emma realized she never asked Anton about his father, and he never offered her any information about him. Perhaps he knew nothing about his father, and that made her sad.

“Girl, you done ate yo’ weight in fried okra,” Anton said, yanking her out of her contemplation.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she said quietly. And then turning to Ms. Robinson she added, “I have manners. I really do. I cannot believe I just ate like that.”

Ms. Robinson laughed. “Emma, you so thin you can eat as much of this food as you want. How ‘bout I send you home with the rest of this fried okra?”

“Now hold up a minute,” Anton said.

“Oh hush, Anton,” Ms. Robinson said.

Emma felt selfish. She nodded watching Anton scowl at her playfully.

“Okay then. Now we gonna clean all this up and then I got to get myself ready for work,” Ms. Robinson said.

Emma was glad she was expected to help clear the table and wash the dishes. It made her feel like she was part of their family and not just a Sunday guest. She enjoyed their company and liked watching the way Anton teased his mother and how she playfully swatted him on the back of his head. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw him pull his mother close and kiss the top of her head. So much love, she thought, and she wanted to stay at their tiny apartment in a rough neighborhood forever.

Anton kissed her cheek unexpectedly, and she jumped.

“Anton,” she chastised quietly, feeling embarrassed.

“What? My mama know we’re datin’,” he said and leaned down to kiss her again.

She drew back.

“Anton, stop makin’ her feel uncomfortable. You doin’ it on purpose,” his mother scolded. She had just finished wiping down the kitchen table.

“I ain’t tryin’ to make her feel uncomfortable,” Anton said grinning.

Ms. Robinson looked like she wanted to say something, like it had been on the tip of her tongue the entire time they cleaned the dishes. She had just scolded Anton for making Emma feel uncomfortable, and now she realized she had to do the same.

“Come on over here to the living room, you two,” she said finally. Her heartbeat quickened, but she was his mother, she decided. It had to be discussed.

Anton and Emma sat together on the couch, and Ms. Robinson took a seat opposite them. Emma thought how not so very long ago it was Anton who sat across from her. Then she had barely known him, and she remembered that she looked him over that day deciding if he was as cute as he thought. She smiled to herself remembering that time, when love had not yet been spoken but was hovering above them, ready to descend when they were finished playing their game of flirtation.

Ms. Robinson cleared her throat. “You know I gotta go to work,” she began.

“Mama, you ain’t gonna make me do a bunch of chores for you today, are you? I had plans with Emma,” Anton whined.

“We have plans?” Emma asked suddenly.

“Girl, be quiet,” Anton replied.

“I’m not gonna make you do chores. Just hush and listen, okay?” his mother said.

Anton looked relieved, but Emma started feeling mildly uneasy.

“I don’t even know how to say this, so I’m just gonna say it,” Ms. Robinson said.

“Mama, what is it?” Anton asked impatiently.

Now Emma wanted to tell him to be quiet. She knew, and she didn’t want to hear it out loud.

“It’s my business and it’s not my business,” Ms. Robinson said. She paused for a brief moment. “I need to know if you’re having sex and if you’re bein’ safe.”

“Oh my God, Mama!” Anton yelled, covering his face with his large hands.

“I know it’s embarrassing to talk about, but we have to,” she replied.

“No we don’t! No we don’t!” Anton said.

“Yes we do,” Ms. Robinson insisted. “I’m gone a lot workin’ and doin’ school things. And it bothers me I’m gone so much. It’s always bothered me. But now that you two are together, I gotta whole other set of things to be worried about.”

Emma wanted to crawl under the couch and die.

“Mama, everything fine. You don’t gotta be worried about a thing, okay?” Anton said hurriedly. “You can go on now to work.”

“Anton, stop,” his mother said. “And be serious.”

“Yes, we’re having sex.” It was Emma who spoke up. She was mortified, but she wanted to get it over with.

Ms. Robinson looked at her and then Anton. Her face fell a little, and she was visibly worried.

“And we’re being very safe,” Emma continued noting Ms. Robinson’s unease. “We’re using protection. I’m on birth control.”

Ms. Robinson nodded. She looked slightly more relieved.

“Can I go die now?” Anton asked.

Ms. Robinson ignored him. “Emma, baby, how old are you?”

“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in July.”

Ms. Robinson sat silent for a moment. Anton shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I just really need you two to be safe. Anton here is legally an adult, and you’re not,” she said.

Emma had never thought about it. She had been treated like an adult all her life. She was the more mature one out of the two of them. But facts were facts. She was still considered a child in the eyes of the law. He was not.

“Emma? Do your parents know you datin’ my son?” Ms. Robinson said.

“Yes,” Emma replied, and Anton looked at her. This was news to him.

“And they’re okay with it?” she asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” Emma confessed.

“What’d you mean?” Anton asked.

Emma bit her lip. “Well, I kind of told them as I was leaving this morning.”

“What?! You dropped the bomb on them then went runnin’ out yo’ house?” Anton asked nonplussed.

“Sort of,” Emma replied. Her face felt hot with shame.