Then without warning, he stepped backward onto the green and he crip walked…plush grass under his soles…blue fitted low…confidence sharp enough to slice open the sky.
Not showboating…not arrogance, just a Black man living his truth on land that wasn’t built for him.
His left heel popped, right toe slid back, knees softened and his shoulders rocked with that Crescent Park rhythm that lived in his bones.
It was ancestral…a footwork prayer…a declaration…alook at me nowcoated in hood brilliance and holy defiance.
The cameras caught every second of it ready to spin some weird ass narrative, but Zaire nor his team gave a damn. When True told him to be his authentically Black self, he meant it.
The kids screamed.
DJ nearly fainted because he loved the dance so much.
Karter tried to copy it and stumbled straight into Mya’s arms who cackled like she always did.
Lesha had both hands in the air like she was in church. “Left, right, left right,” She hyped, doing her own little shuffle because she was Crescent coded too.
Meadow covered her mouth as tears spilled freely. She had never seen anything more beautiful.
This was joy…and culture...and pride...and everything Zaire had ever been told he couldn’t bring into these spaces.
He finished with a sharp heel-kick, wiped his face with the back of his hand, and then made his way back to Meadow.
Zaire was still out of breath, still blinking fast and still trying not to cry again in front of the whole world.
He cupped her cheeks, “You didn’t have to give me that hat.”
“Yes I did,” she whispered. “You earned it.”
Zaire pressed his forehead to hers again, “I love you Marai.”
Meadow exhaled like her ribs were finally expanding for the first time in weeks. “I love you too.”
“Ray did it!”
They turned as Magnolia had finally stood up, eyes bright with excitement she rarely seemed to feel these days.
“He won,” she giggled. “My Ray won the whole damn thing.”
Thirty seconds later the speakers crackled like God was truly at work. The first notes of “Voyage to Atlantis” poured across the course, turning manic energy into something sweeter.
Ray stilled. “Aww, man,” his tears came fast, too fast for him to try to suck them back in.
Magnolia’s lips parted, and her eyes got that spark Meadow hadn’t seen in so long. “Ray?” she whispered, voice thin but warm. “They playin’ our song.”
Ray’s whole face crumpled.
“Yes baby,” he answered, eyes wet. “They sure are.”
She pointed to the green with childlike excitement. “Look, baby. You did it. You really did it. I told my Mama you would.”
Her timeline had folded in on itself. To her, the man on that grass was the boy who used to run barefoot in storms and swear he’d change the world.
She was wrong and right at the same time.
Ray wrapped an arm around his wife, kissing her forehead. “I ain’t do that,” he whispered, voice cracked down the middle. “He did,” Ray said, pointing to Zaire.
He glanced at Zaire.
