Justine rested her hands at her waist. “There’s no need to get snippy with me, Kenneth.”
He noticed the abundance of gray in her hair. She was in her early forties and graying at an alarming rate. There was no doubt her hair would be completely white by the time she was fifty.
“I’m not, as you say, snippy. I’m still worried about Ray.”
Justine walked over and sat opposite him. “How is he doing?”
“He was discharged from the hospital last week, and now he has to undergo rehab to help him walk, because they had to put a plate and screws in his fractured ankle. He’s lost almost all his vision in his left eye, so he’s given up his dream of becoming a doctor.”
“That poor kid. All that brilliance going to waste. Have the police found out who assaulted him?”
Kenny shook his head. “Not yet. And chances are they’re not putting in any effort to find out.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because to the police, Ray is just another spic who got what he deserves for soliciting hookers.”
Justine’s jaw dropped. “I know I didn’t hear you say what you just did.”
“Yeah, Ma. I did. Do you think they would lose any sleep if someone mugged me and left me for dead? No,” he said, answering his own question. “Just another nigger who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And if they catch the perpetrator, he wouldn’t get as much prison time for assaulting his own folks than he would if he assaulted some WhiteCEO riding around in a limo whose company’s profits include laundering drug money for the mob.”
“Where is all this talk coming from?” Justine asked.
“It’s reality, Mom. It’s the same with politicians who look out for their fat-cat friends at the expense of working-class chumps who applaud when they’re given tax breaks that are pittance when compared to the corporations and millionaires who use scams to hide their money from the taxman.”
“It’s apparent you still haven’t gotten over that fake-ass activist girl who left you because you weren’t militant enough for her. What she was going to do was get you killed with all that rhetoric she was spouting.”
Slowly leaning back in his chair, Kenny stared at his mother until she dropped her eyes. They’d argued ad nauseum about the girl who had become the love of his life. He knew his mother would never accept her as her daughter-in-law the first time she laid eyes on her. But that hadn’t mattered, because she was going to marry him, not his mother.
“You just had to bring her up, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did,” Justine retorted, “because she turned you into someone I don’t know or recognize, because now you are always so angry.”
“Maybe as a Black man in America, I have a lot to be angry about. It’s 1973, and we still have to fight for equality. How much more blood do we have to shed to become equal citizens in a country where our ancestors were used as free labor to enrich those in power? Are you aware that twelve presidents owned slaves? Did you also know that even Benjamin Franklin owned slaves?”
Justine closed her eyes and clutched her chest. “Enough, Kenny.”
He sat up straight. “Are you all right?”
She opened her eyes and smiled. “Yes. It’s just a little indigestion. I shouldn’t have put those onions in last night’s salad.”
“Are you certain it’s only indigestion? Maybe you should go for a checkup?”
“Have you forgotten that I work in a hospital, and I get a complete physical every year.”
“Just checking.”
“There’s no need to check on me. I know you’re worried about Ramon, but if he’s made it this far considering his injuries, he’s going to be okay.”
“When I spoke to him the other day, he was talking about going into the priesthood.”
Justine smiled. “Do you think he would be a good priest?”
“I do, because whenever Frankie and I had a problem, we would go to Ray. He would listen without saying anything, then whatever he would tell us is what we needed to hear.”
“How long will it take him to become an ordained priest?” Justine asked.
“Almost as long as it takes to become a doctor. He already has a Bachelor of Science degree, so he’ll have to study another two years for a Bachelor of Philosophy. After that, there’s another three or four years of instruction, then six months of becoming a deacon, then after that, he can become ordained.”
