“You just—it’s so clear how much you love your grandmother. How you started a whole volunteer program just to be closer to her, to make sure she had activities to do. That says a lot about you.”
I let go of his hand. This would be the perfect time to come clean. To tell Tye that actually I love beef burgers and that this morning I had scrambled eggs with extra, extra bacon. This is the perfect time to tell him that my grandmother’s facility is just her home, not a place where I work. We have only hung out for two weeks, with no kissing, no nothing that says we are something serious, so now would probably be the best time, the right time to tell him who I really am. Because the way he looks at me, the way we make it our business to talk to each other every day, see each other as often as we can . . . something more is coming. He’s wanting to get closer and closer to me, and I want him to know exactly who he is getting close to. That’s what I should do—tell him now. I take a deep breath, turn to him and start to talk, and instead of words coming out of my mouth, Tye’s lips press into mine. And there is no talking, only kissing, and kissing and kissing.
Tye asks if I’m ready to leave.
“No, let’s stay a little longer.” I take a plastic water bottle out of my purse and drink, trying not to get too much lipstick on the bottle.
“Ms. Lori gave us a summer challenge not to drink out of plastic water bottles,” he tells me.
He sounds like Imani right now, giving me a not-so-gentle hint that I am doing something wrong. I don’t say anything.
“Uh, not that I’m telling you that you should take the challenge. I was just saying, I’m taking the challenge.”
I don’t say anything. I drink the last of my water. Make sure every drop is gone. There’s a garbage can not too far away, so I get up and walk over to it. As soon as I get to the can, I catch myself. I don’t throw it away. Instead, I put it back in my purse, sit back down next to Tye. I’ll wait till I find a recycling bin. That’s the least I can do, I guess.
I have a feeling if I had thrown it away, there’d be a lecture, a look of disapproval.
We sit for a while longer looking out at the water. A few boats sway and rock on top of the waves. “Okay,” Tye says. “Tell me something else I don’t know about you.”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“There have to be more things that I don’t know about you.”
“But I can’t think of something I want to share right now.” I could tell him that something he doesn’t know about me is that I hate feeling judged, I hate feeling like I am not good enough. But who likes being judged? I mean, that should be obvious.
He looks at me. “Okay, I’ll go.” And then he leans back and says, “Remember when you asked me about my relationship with my father?”
“Yeah.”
“I wasn’t completely honest with you.”
Tye wasn’t completely honest? Maybe we all have secrets.
“I told you I love him, but sometimes, I—I kind of hate him too.”
I take Tye’s hand. There’s nothing I can say right now. I just squeeze his hand, try to let him know that I understand.
“He’s just . . . so I saw him yesterday. He was here for some business meeting or whatever, and it’s not like he even planned to see me. It was so last minute. So unorganized. He only had like an hour because he had to get back to Connecticut. Couldn’t miss his train.” Tye is quiet for a while. There are so many questions I have for him. I want to know what he and his dad talked about, what he wished they’d talk about.
There are always the words we said and the words we wished we said when it comes to the people we love.
“I don’t want to care, you know? But, like, he was sitting there bragging on his children, telling me how well they did this past school year, how good Nathan is in sports. And I’m sitting there like—what about me?” Tye stops talking when he says this, like he didn’t mean to admit that last part. But it’s too late to take the words back, so he keeps talking and I keep listening. “I don’t mean to sound conceited or anything, but I mean, I’m handling my business, I’m doing the right thing. I’m making sure my mom is proud of me, that I get a scholarship to college so she doesn’t have to stress about tuition. I’m out here doing all this Inspire Harlem stuff, and he sits there and talks about his five-year-old son playing Little League. Really?”
I can tell Tye has been holding this in since yesterday, that this is the first time he’s let any of these words out. He takes a deep breath, says, “He’s the one missing out, though. I try to remember that. At least that’s what my mom says.”
“My aunt says that too,” I say. “All the time. She says my mom is missing out on my best years and that it’s not my fault.”
Tye squeezes my hand. I lay my head against his chest. He puts on an exaggerated game-show-host voice and says, “And that concludes our most depressing round of Tell Me Something I Don’t Know about You.” Then, in his real voice, “Sorry about that. I just needed to—”
“You never have to apologize for telling me how you feel.”
Tye lifts our hands, kisses mine. “Your turn. Something funny, something—”
“Tye, it’s okay. It’s okay to sit here and be sad. I mean, you don’t have to wallow in it all day, but you don’t always have to look on the bright side of things. Sometimes, you have to acknowledge what’s hurting you. How else will you ever heal?”
We sit and sit, letting the sadness sink in, holding each other and watching the boats sway and sway until the sun has vanished and the sky is a kaleidoscope of pink, purple, and orange. I take a few photos of the river and the sunset. Then, I pull Tye up, yanking his arms toward me. We turn around so that the sunset is our backdrop and take a picture. Just as I am taking the second one, Tye kisses me on my cheek. I take the photo. Tye says, “Send that to me.”
“Okay.” I crop the photo, center us a bit, and then send it in a text. I save the photo to my background so I can see it every time I pick up my phone.
We stand and start walking back through Harlem’s streets. We pass Dinosaur Bar-B-Que, the Cotton Club, and continue home. The whir of the number one train above us flies through the sky like a rocket. The more we walk on 125th the more crowded it gets. We walk closer together as the sidewalks narrow.
“Tell me about the community block party,” I say.
“So, you know how our tenets for Inspire Harlem are Remember Harlem, Honor Harlem, Critique Harlem, and Love Harlem?”
I nod.
“Well, this event is focusing on Love Harlem,” Tye says. “The only thing Ms. Lori said is, we have to make the community aware of one social issue we care about.” We stop at the corner until it’s safe to cross and then keep walking. “We’re focusing on loving the Earth.”
I am just listening, waiting for Tye to get to the part where he talks about the block party, the fun stuff.
Tye continues. “There will be tents along the street with volunteers handing out flyers and brochures about ways to take care of the environment and how to become more engaged in the local community. We’ve invited a few experts to give talks and demonstrations throughout the day.”