The next place we go is the Black Heritage Trail. It’s a couple of miles that help depict Boston’s Black history. With pre-civil war structures and historical sites, it showcases the past of the majority of Black people who lived in this neighborhood. Pointing things out like this isn’t his first time, I have to give credit where credit is due for him realizing I might want to see this.
We work up an appetite, going from Boston’s landmarks to the typical things people come to see.
Before today, all I knew about Boston was the tea party stuff they teach in school. Now, a native to the city has given me a real, in-depth tour. By the time the sun starts to set, he ends the tour by bringing me to one of the best-known diners in the city.
“I appreciate you showing me your Boston. I think it makes me appreciate this place more than I would’ve before.”
“I’m going to miss it here, but I’m excited to move.”
“Why are you moving?”
Trusting his knowledge, I let him order for me when the waitress walks up.
“I’m closest to Rowan, and I miss her. Plus, I need a fresh start.” He shrugs it off, making me feel like there is more to it.
“Does this have to do with why you were so upset last night?”
Leaning back, his thumbs play with each other while he thinks about what to say next.
“Sort of.”
“If you changed your mind about talking about it, that’s fine.”
He lifts his head, his chin jutting out.
“I haven’t changed my mind. I’m just worried it will change the way you view me.”
Our shepherd’s pie is delivered to the table, and I take a bite before speaking. So far, I’m not disappointed by what I’ve eaten while here, making me reluctant to put my fork down.
“Honestly, I’ve yet to form a solid opinion about you. I can’t say this won’t affect it, but I promise to hear you out.”
“Maybe I should flirt with you a little more first.” He sits forward and wipes his mouth with his napkin and then winks.
I shake my head and purse my lips.
“Well, if that won’t work, then I guess I’ll just try honesty.” He takes a big gulp of his beer and sits back again.
With a sigh, he says, “It’s hard to grow up in a family with six kids. Being the second oldest, it became my job to help with the others pretty early on. You can’t really feel important when there isn’t even a moment for anyone to see you.”
I can’t relate, but I sympathize all the same.
“Because of that, I always craved love and attention. Still do, if I’m being honest.” Shrugging off that confession, he continues. “I was honestly desperate, and it made it easy for me to be influenced bypeople I thought cared about me. With that said, I don’t want you to think I see myself as some sort of victim. I made my choices, but I just want you to see the logic behind them.”
“You don’t have to do that. This is your story, and I’m not going to tell you who you are in it.”
He rubs his beard, a slow breath exhaling from deep inside him. “Thank you.”
I stop myself from grabbing his hand, instead gesturing for him to continue.
“I work on cars. Always have. Before, though, I did illegal modifications. Stuff that shouldn’t allow the car to be on the street. It led me to street racing.”
I clench my legs trying to ease the reaction to how hot I think that is.
“The last race I ever did got broken up by the cops. I thought I could outmaneuver them, but ended up hitting a barrier and flipping my car.”
My gasp is instant. He waves his hands like it’s not a big deal.
“I was fine, just some cuts and bruised ribs. It was when they brought me into the station that things went to hell. Someone recognized me as Cormac’s kid and called him to come down. My Pa told me it was the worst moment in his life, walking through that precinct. When he got there, he could barely look at me.” Unable to keep his eyes from the ground, the clench of his jaw says everything.
