almost
knocking their drinks over.
Elize laughed. She laughed and laughed and laughed and so did Jaz,
some of her beer even coming out of her nose (Jaz had stopped counting the
number of embarrassing moments she'd had around either of these two guys). Soon
the table was shaking and they were swearing at each other so loudly that a man
finally came over to break them up, thinking they'd been having an actual
fight.
The boys explained that they were only joking and the manager (or
whoever the overweight buzz-cut guy was) looked at them funny, telling them to "just
keep it down, okes" (she made a note to ask what that word meant). "This
is a family place," the man finished, and when he was gone, the four of
them looked at each other silently for a moment and then cracked up once again
at the absurdity of the man's statement.
"This is a family place," said Miguel quietly,
exaggerating the statement with grotesque facial expressions. The four of them
suppressed some more laughs like they were talking badly about a high school
teacher in class.
But Miguel went serious again, and looked over at the manager, then
looked away quickly—as if not wanting to pick a fight.
Jaz's attention went to Miguel, her laughter slowly subsiding as
well.
This is a family place . What had he
meant by that?
SEVEN
There was something unique about this Jaz, Miguel pondered to
himself as they sat there making jokes about the manager, and just generally
being loud and obnoxious. There was this unusual sense of comfort he
felt around her, like they could just sit in silence and say nothing for hours
and all would be OK.
It wasn't the first time Sandile had tried to set him up with
someone. The poor guy had been trying (and failing) for close on a year now. It was the first time, however, that he'd set
someone up with him while he and Elize were there—a double-date.
That had been a bold move on his part (and had taken more than a bit
of convincing to have Miguel go along with it. You'd be doing me a favor! That had been Sandile's final argument—a low blow if Miguel had ever seen one!)
But this American chick seemed safe enough. I mean, these Americans, they had
that Martin Luther King guy and all those marches and speeches and stuff.
The snide comment from the manager had not bothered Miguel. As he
was sure it hadn't (not even in the slightest) bothered Sandile. Because a snide comment here and there from some dumb-fuck was not
what they really had to worry about. That, there would always be. And, so what?
Sticks and stones.
No, they had more to worry about than some hairy fart-head who
smelled of beer and maybe had forgotten to take a shower that morning, telling
them about "a family place."
Where Elize lived, sticks and stones were the call of the day—that,
and guns.
Guns aimed at black people.
Really, it had been bad timing, that's all—the news that had come
the week just before she and Sandile had met, putting the entire country into a
panic. On the few occasions when Miguel had gone to Elize's house for dinner on
the guise of being her boyfriend, it was true that the men of the family had sent
out the K-word a few times, but it was also true that Miguel had noted her
mother's discomfort at them using the word. Whereas she'd let it slide the
first two or three times, she then came out and told them that times have
changed and that we are not like the people they wrote about a few weeks
ago in our neighborhood. Absolutely not!
Right. Those people. The ones who killed that black kid (and his
white girlfriend) only two weeks before Sandile and Elize had met each other.
The ones who lived only a few houses away from Elize herself.
Talk about timing.
RACIST KILLINGS DARKEN THE RAINBOW NATION. That was one headline.
BLACK ROMEO AND WHITE JULIET DEAD IN AFRICA. That one Miguel hated
the most.
Because the truth is, no one really knew what happened that night.
And probably no one ever would. There'd been three bodies (the two
knocking their drinks over.
Elize laughed. She laughed and laughed and laughed and so did Jaz,
some of her beer even coming out of her nose (Jaz had stopped counting the
number of embarrassing moments she'd had around either of these two guys). Soon
the table was shaking and they were swearing at each other so loudly that a man
finally came over to break them up, thinking they'd been having an actual
fight.
The boys explained that they were only joking and the manager (or
whoever the overweight buzz-cut guy was) looked at them funny, telling them to "just
keep it down, okes" (she made a note to ask what that word meant). "This
is a family place," the man finished, and when he was gone, the four of
them looked at each other silently for a moment and then cracked up once again
at the absurdity of the man's statement.
"This is a family place," said Miguel quietly,
exaggerating the statement with grotesque facial expressions. The four of them
suppressed some more laughs like they were talking badly about a high school
teacher in class.
But Miguel went serious again, and looked over at the manager, then
looked away quickly—as if not wanting to pick a fight.
Jaz's attention went to Miguel, her laughter slowly subsiding as
well.
This is a family place . What had he
meant by that?
SEVEN
There was something unique about this Jaz, Miguel pondered to
himself as they sat there making jokes about the manager, and just generally
being loud and obnoxious. There was this unusual sense of comfort he
felt around her, like they could just sit in silence and say nothing for hours
and all would be OK.
It wasn't the first time Sandile had tried to set him up with
someone. The poor guy had been trying (and failing) for close on a year now. It was the first time, however, that he'd set
someone up with him while he and Elize were there—a double-date.
That had been a bold move on his part (and had taken more than a bit
of convincing to have Miguel go along with it. You'd be doing me a favor! That had been Sandile's final argument—a low blow if Miguel had ever seen one!)
But this American chick seemed safe enough. I mean, these Americans, they had
that Martin Luther King guy and all those marches and speeches and stuff.
The snide comment from the manager had not bothered Miguel. As he
was sure it hadn't (not even in the slightest) bothered Sandile. Because a snide comment here and there from some dumb-fuck was not
what they really had to worry about. That, there would always be. And, so what?
Sticks and stones.
No, they had more to worry about than some hairy fart-head who
smelled of beer and maybe had forgotten to take a shower that morning, telling
them about "a family place."
Where Elize lived, sticks and stones were the call of the day—that,
and guns.
Guns aimed at black people.
Really, it had been bad timing, that's all—the news that had come
the week just before she and Sandile had met, putting the entire country into a
panic. On the few occasions when Miguel had gone to Elize's house for dinner on
the guise of being her boyfriend, it was true that the men of the family had sent
out the K-word a few times, but it was also true that Miguel had noted her
mother's discomfort at them using the word. Whereas she'd let it slide the
first two or three times, she then came out and told them that times have
changed and that we are not like the people they wrote about a few weeks
ago in our neighborhood. Absolutely not!
Right. Those people. The ones who killed that black kid (and his
white girlfriend) only two weeks before Sandile and Elize had met each other.
The ones who lived only a few houses away from Elize herself.
Talk about timing.
RACIST KILLINGS DARKEN THE RAINBOW NATION. That was one headline.
BLACK ROMEO AND WHITE JULIET DEAD IN AFRICA. That one Miguel hated
the most.
Because the truth is, no one really knew what happened that night.
And probably no one ever would. There'd been three bodies (the two
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