Ray wiped his hands on a paper napkin. “If my mother was in your father’s position, she would have moved her family in right after her husband’s father was in the ground.”
“But the difference,” Kenny said, in defense of Frank’s father, “is your grandfather wouldn’t have rejected your father’s choice of a wife because she’s Puerto Rican. Frankie’s mother has every right to feel the way she does after being alienated because of who she is. It’s the same with Black people. Folks judge us by the color of our skin and not because we’re either good or bad.”
A beat passed before Frankie said to Kenny, “This is the first time I’ve heard you talk about race.”
Kenny closed his eyes for several seconds. “I don’t talk about it much, because it upsets me with all that is going on in this country about Black people wanting to be accepted as equals. My mother talks about us being here for hundreds of years, and we still don’t have the same rights as other people. Folks who came here for a better life forget that they werediscriminated against in their country but do the same to my people.”
“You sound like a militant,” Frankie said, accusingly.
“I’m not militant,” Kenny countered. “I just want what I’m entitled to as an American. It hasn’t been that long since people didn’t want to hire immigrants. They’d put up ‘No Irish Need Apply’ signs when it came to employment. And your father’s people, Frankie, were and are still called dagos and wops. And forget about Spanish-speaking people being called spics. All of us were victims of that yesterday when your cousin Pasquale lost his temper.”
“My cousin is an asshole,” Frankie spat out.
“Asshole or not,” Kenny continued, “he meant what he said. And it was enough to make your mother cry.”
“You’re right,” Frankie agreed. “We don’t have to go through that again, because he’s been banished from the family.”
Kenny smiled. “Talking about family. Once I begin cooking lessons with your grandmother, will I become an unofficial member of your family?”
Frankie stared at Kenny with wide blue eyes. “You’re really going to let Nonna teach you how to cook Italian food?”
“Yup. My mother said it’s okay because your uncle will pick me up and bring me back home.”
“My uncle is part owner of a restaurant on Second Avenue, so if you’re really good, maybe you can work there on weekends—that is, if they need extra help.”
Smiling and nodding, Kenny said, “That’s something to think about.” If his mother made extra money typing, then he could do the same working in a restaurant’s kitchen. And if he were able to master certain dishes, it was something he could do on weekends as a high school student as long as it didn’t interfere with his grades. Not only did he need the grade average, but also had to score high enough on the SAT to get into a public college as a matriculated student. If he were to apply to private colleges, then he would have to relyon scholarships to cover tuition. Paying for room, board, and books would have to come from either savings or his having to work part-time while at the same time attending classes.
“Well, it looks as if we won’t be able to hang out together during the summer over the next two years, and by that time, we’ll be ready for high school,” Ray said after a comfortable silence.
“Once we’re in high school, we can take the first Saturday in each month for breakfast at our favorite coffee shop on Broadway,” Frankie volunteered.
“I like the sound of that,” Kenny said. He placed his hand palm down on the table. “That’s a promise.”
Ray placed his hand over Kenny’s. “That’s a promise.”
Frankie did the same when he covered both hands. “Me, too.”
The bell rang, signaling it was the end of the lunch period, and the three got up to empty their trays before leaving the cafeteria for their next class.
CHAPTER13
It was Saturday, and Justine wanted to take advantage of having the apartment to herself for most of the day. Kenny had gone to the library to work on a book report before joining up with a group of his classmates to seeThe Pink Panther.It was a little after noon when Kenny rushed back to leave his books, then took off again, leaving Justine time to strip and remake beds, clean the bathroom, mop the kitchen, and sweep and dust floors. She seasoned a roasting chicken, made up a casserole dish with macaroni and cheese from the night before, and put the chicken in the oven on the lowest temperature to slowly cook over several hours.
Justine decided to forgo eating lunch, because she wanted to see how much she could accomplish typing the dissertation for an African exchange student who was pursuing his doctorate at Columbia University. She had become totally engrossed in his research on the rise and fall of ancient African civilizations.
Although she hadn’t enrolled in college, Justine felt as if she had whenever she typed a paper for a student or professor. The knowledge and information she gleaned from whatshe’d typed had proven to be invaluable to her even before becoming a college student. Kenny was only a month away from completing the seventh grade, and in another five years, it would be his high school graduation. Her son had teased her saying they both would become college freshmen at the same time. Kenny would attend during the day, while Justine planned to enroll for night classes. She would continue to work at the hospital until she earned her degree. Then, her focus would be securing a teaching position.
She’d just removed the cover from the typewriter when the telephone rang. Whenever the phone rang, Kenny answered it, because the calls were from friends. The ones for her were from her typing clients. Pushing back her chair, she walked out of the room she had set up as an office and into the living room to answer the phone before it rang a third time.
“Russell residence.”
“Good afternoon, Justine. Why so formal?”
A slight frown creased her forehead once she recognized the caller’s voice, wondering why he was calling her when she hadn’t exchanged more than a dozen words with the man whenever she encountered the hospital orderly. She didn’t want to believe he’d actually asked the operator for her number.
“Norman?”
“So, you know who I am,” came his reply.
