Bright Lights, Dark Nights (20 page)

“I was starting to think you'd grown out of comics or something,” Jason said. “Got into girls, started sowing those wild oats.”

Jason picked up three comics fast. He hadn't missed a beat.

“I'm not like that,” I said. He didn't need to think I was some horndog when Naomi and I told him we were dating later. I needed to steer as far from that narrative as I could. “I mean the wild oats. I have calm oats. Where'd you get all this money?”

“Don't worry about my money,” Jason said. “I haven't come here in, like, four weeks. I have a lot of catching up to do.”

“You can get comics without me,” I said. “Anyway. Calm oats. I'm really not girl-crazy.”

I wasn't used to having secrets. Jason hadn't mentioned it; maybe no one knew still. I couldn't bring it up in some casual manner myself. It was too weird.

“Oh, you're not? You trying to tell me something?” Jason asked, and put his books down on a bin of back issues. “Like, something serious? Because I'm cool with it. I guess I'm not totally surprised—”

“What? No, not that,” I said. “I like girls, just not in that—never mind.”

“I blew it,” Jason said. “I was too strong, too macho, I scared you off, damn. You can tell me. I'll be sensitive, I can do that. I'm a forward-thinking man.”

I laughed. His energy was as positive as ever. I even wondered if he was capable of being mad. I'd never really seen it. Jason was a happy, goofy guy. I didn't know what fears of mine were legitimate and which ones I was projecting. I could have nothing to worry about.

Jason tossed the comics on the counter.

“Walter's probably gay, but you're okay with that, right?” Jason asked Romero at the register, nudging me out of the way while he reached for his wallet.

“For real?” Romero asked with a quizzical look on his face. “Yeah, I'm cool, of course.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I'm not, but I appreciate it.”

“Dude, you've got a lot on your mind, and I don't envy it,” Jason said, and handed Romero a twenty. “This is the face of a man with the world on his shoulders. You'll talk someday. And when you do, your boy Jason's gonna be there to listen.”

It's hard work carrying around these thoughts. When I talked to Mom, it changed the way the world looked. You'd think I'd have learned something. Telling Naomi's family about us would hopefully be the same kind of relief, but damned if I wasn't looking forward to it.

*   *   *

When I got back from school, Dad was home already and sitting on the couch. The air was tense.

“Walter, have a seat,” Dad said. He seemed to be gathering his bearings, leaning forward from his seat like this was something urgent. I sat down.

“What now?” I asked. I knew the big strokes of the story, I knew he was innocent. A sit-down was never good news, though.

“I'm on work leave for a bit while things settle,” Dad said. “I want you to hear this stuff from me before you hear it anywhere else, okay? As you know, that arrest I made, they did an internal investigation and let the case go. Kid denied he ever said anything. Politics, legal mumbo jumbo. So his family starts floating some wild accusations about the arrest. None of it's true. You're hearing that right from me.”

“What do they want?” I asked.

“Time in the spotlight, a payday,” Dad said. “There's plenty of reasons why someone would do something like this, honestly it happens all the time, now more than ever. I'm not worried. I've been a solid, dependable cop for over fifteen years now. This sucks but it happens from time to time, you take the bad with the good. That said, there is more, and I want to be up front about it. They haven't talked about this, yet, but they will. There was a scuffle. Minor. Brought on by that kid's actions, not mine, I can promise you that. He tried to get in his car and leave before we were done talking. I did what I had to within the parameters of my job and the law. That's it. Right now we just have to hope the force does the right thing by me. And we'll be okay.”

Dad was put on leave after the investigation. His bosses weren't changing their minds a week later. Dad was going to be home for a while.

“Hey, at least I didn't lose the fight,” Dad joked, likely reading the worry on my face. “Now,
that
would have ended my career.”

I couldn't muster a smile, let alone a laugh. No amount of joking was going to change the fact that this was actually happening and the worst was still to come. “It doesn't look good at all,” I said.

“It's nothing, Walter, okay?” Dad put a hand on my knee. “I've been through far worse. Every cop worth his salt has. It's part of the job. We want things to be nice and clean-cut, but when you deal with people, there will be variables. Every situation gets reassessed with every movement, every sentence spoken. I'm a good cop. I did the right thing. At the end of the day that's what they're gonna look at.”

*   *   *

I walked to the Millses' unsure what I was even nervous about anymore. I was worried about so much it took over my brain and melted together. The feeling of dread slowed me to a zombielike crawl, like a march to my own execution. Too much bad news in the air. What I needed was an embrace from Naomi. For her parents to welcome me with open arms.
This is the best. We can hang out all the time now
—that was what Jason would say. Naomi would kiss me on the cheek, lay her head on my shoulder. I'd put my arm around her.

I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing by the time I reached their front door. Naomi and I hadn't rehearsed a thing, so when Mr. Mills opened the door and asked if I was there for Jason, I froze. It was an odd question that I hadn't anticipated. The only other time I'd been there, it was to see Jason.

“Uh, Naomi?” I asked. This was too much. The door was right there still. I hadn't crossed it. I could say I forgot something, chores, my dad was calling. The Walter signal shone in the night sky; East Bridge needed me.

“I invited him,” Naomi said, appearing from the kitchen. “We have something we kinda want to say.”

“Come on in, Walter,” her dad said, and to Naomi, “Let's kinda hear it.”

Mr. Mills stepped aside as I walked into the dark living room where he and Denise had been watching TV. He turned on a light.

“Walter and I have been seeing each other,” Naomi said hesitantly, entering the living room herself. She usually seemed nervous through her overconfidence, but now she looked how I felt. I hadn't really considered that her parents did have the authority to end our relationship, to an extent.

“Really?” Denise said, not in a pleased tone. “Let me wrap my head around this.”

“Oh dear,” her dad said with no more pleasure. He was sitting in his own large chair while her mom was on the couch. “Naomi, I don't know about this right now…”

“Mom's wrapping her head around it—shh,” Naomi said. Her mom shot her a look she didn't seem to catch. If ever there was a time to tread carefully.

“We do like you, Walter,” Denise said, “so don't take any of this personally. No teenager wants to hear this, but you're both very young still, and with that comes a naïveté.”

Jason came out of his room, in on the conversation already.
Guess that kills two birds with one stone.
“What's going on here?” Jason asked. “Is this about Naomi and Walter? I knew something was going on!”

“Jason, shut up,” Naomi said. She must have wished at times for a button she could press that would just play “Jason, shut up.” This was three for three not on board Team Walter and Naomi.

“Hey, I'm part of this family, too. I'm part of this conversation,” Jason said. I knew he'd be a complication, but I hadn't thought he'd be
the
complication. He had the energy of a spoiled eight-year-old. “Walter's supposed to be my friend, and you're supposed to be my sis, so where does this leave me in all this?”

“Believe it or not, this isn't about you,” Naomi said. “Go away, I'll deal with you later.”

“People at school are gonna think I'm cosigning for Walter,” Jason said, decreasing in age by the minute. “Letting him date my baby sis. I am not cosigning for you, Walter! You should have come to me like a man, and
maybe
I'd have cosigned.”

“Jason, nobody wants your deadbeat cosign,” their dad said, and leaned forward in his chair. “Now, can I say something here?”

Everyone quieted down. Jason folded his arms. Naomi was sitting nervously on the arm of the couch by her mom, and I sat down on the floor. This was calmer than I'd seen Naomi's family. A calm before the storm, maybe.

“Walter, your dad's been in the news,” Mr. Mills said slowly. “I don't think it's any secret what's been going on in the community here.”

“I'm completely separate from that,” I said, hoping to avoid the conversation making a turn it couldn't recover from. I still had hope this would end well.

“I understand that,” he said. “And I'm not saying there's any truth to anything that's being floated around. Your father's a well-known police officer, and he has plenty of support. I, myself, do not know the man. But with the attention the case is getting, and with the racial implications of it”—he took a moment to collect his thoughts—“things we're just scratching the surface of. This is a very real and potentially dangerous situation that needs to be considered, for a lot of reasons. I'm just not sure this is a good idea right now.”

“Naomi, I think it's a no,” Denise said, and Jason audibly agreed, nodding emphatically.

“You're just saying that because of Dad! Try having your own opinion!” Naomi said to her mom, rising from the couch like she couldn't be near her. This was not going well. “Maybe I'll just run away like Alicia did!”

“Naomi, you are not helping your case talking to me like that,” her mom said with a stern look. It felt like Naomi and I were no longer on the cusp of some grand adventure, but little kids being lectured for walking too far from home. I wanted to add something but didn't know what. I wanted to defuse the situation but didn't know how. I wanted to hold Naomi when she was upset, but I couldn't.

“And maybe I'll hunt down Walter and kill him,” Jason said, interrupting Denise to make sure he was being heard.

“Dude,” I said. Things escalated quickly here. In my family, I was the one to hide and listen from a safe spot when fighting was happening. I didn't like to be around it, and I definitely didn't like being a part of it.

“That stuff has nothing to do with us,” Naomi said to her dad. “And can we acknowledge that nothing you've said actually takes my feelings into account?”

“Here's a tip: don't have feelings,” Jason said. “I've been around the block, and a girl with feelings just gets exploited, like Walter's doing to you right now.”

“No, here's the issue,” their dad said, and placed his palms flat against each other. “My daughter's safety is what comes first in all this. This is a violent world we're living in. Right now, I'm not convinced she's going to be safe. Maybe just give this some time.”

“I'll protect her,” I said. “I'll make sure she's safe.”

“You couldn't protect a peanut butter sandwich,” Jason said. “I'll look out for Naomi, Dad.”

“I'll protect myself,” Naomi said. “Mom, you know I'm not going to just roll over. You know I'm stubborn. But this isn't going to a concert or getting new shoes. This is my life—this is serious. I'm sixteen. I'm
going
to date, and I won't be a kid forever. And Walter makes me happy.”

“I understand your feelings, honey,” Denise said. “I had the same feelings for your father when I was your age.”

“Mom, this is different,” Naomi said.

“I had the same feelings,” her mom interrupted. “But there's a whole world out there you don't even know about, and believe me, not everyone is going to care about your feelings like your father and I do. You're sixteen—that's true.”

Her mom paused for a second and looked at Naomi's dad, and he caught her look and turned his head, lost in thought. Naomi looked at me. Her eyes widened, as did mine and Jason's, too.

“Naomi, I want you to really think this through, and be careful,” her mom said. Naomi looked at me again, still wide-eyed.

“Be careful?” Naomi asked. “So it's okay?” Naomi hugged her mom. Then I stood up, and she hugged me, too. This had gone worse than I'd pictured while walking over, and better than I'd pictured just minutes ago. I was glad to have Naomi in my arms.

“Before we bring out the cake and balloons,” Naomi's dad said, “I just want to make this very clear, what we're talking about. Walter, you're a white boy, and, Naomi, you're a black girl. I don't have any issue with that, and wish you the best. But what your father is involved with right now involves white and black. Those two words have a lot of history that you kids just don't know about. And that's what worries me.”