Maurice let out a relieved sigh. The composition had set his teeth on edge. Unpredictability always did. For all the accommodations his best friend, Tommie, made for his comfort, they could never seem to get on the same page about music.
Theclick-click, crackle-hisscontinued, and he sucked in a long breath, focusing again on his task. Friday, Maurice said to himself, running through his mental checklist as his hands rolled each outfit into a tight cylinder—underwear tucked inside, nothing loose and no space wasted.Saturday. Sunday… Each bundle packed into his backpack in the order that he’d need them. Sometime in year three, he’d watched his celly do this—cataloguing what little a man could lay claim to before placing them in a PADOC-issued clear plastic bag. Back then, Maurice hadn’t had much except his blues and a couple of wrinkled pictures that he’d learned to tuck carefully amongst his belongings each time he’d been transferred. He turned a piece of stiff, white fabric over in his hands before sliding it into the center of the tight Sunday bundle. Donning his clerical collar would be a last-minute decision. “After you assess the vibes,” had been Tommie’s unhelpful directions. He laughed under his breath.Vibes. He called it survival. Being with their extended friend group often felt like stepping into a minefield. And this time, they were traveling together.
Keeping his head on a swivel had become automatic. It took focused practice to not walk around with his fists clenched. His jaw, though, he was still working on.
Tommie… God bless him. But the more Tommie pushed him to expand his circle, the more Maurice felt the unsupported span of it. Every new person was an unknown quantity. And unknown quantities had a way of making everything go sideways. Shoot. He’d be satisfied if they’d just let it—him—stand.
Sucking in another lungful of warm, fragrant air, he bundled his clothes and tucked them deep into his backpack. He checked once again that his jeans had a pair of socks in the pocket. The thought of returning to New Jersey from Puerto Rico on New Year’s Day without socks on triggered a shiver.
Travel was a novel concept. Before he moved to eastern New Jersey about three years ago, the farthest he’d ever been from West Philly was Graterford—and that wasn’t by choice.
This trip wasn’t really a choice either.
Still, he would get on a plane in a few hours and travel to a place he never dreamed of going. Officiating his best friend’s wedding was both an honor and reciprocity. He owed Tommie and his mothers everything. If it took the rest of his life, he’d make sure their investment wouldn’t go to waste.
But still, strangers… even the people he knew… were wild cards.
He ran a hand over his face and beard, taking the hairs into his fist and discreetly tugging, giving his anxiety an exit.
“Show me your hands,”had been shouted at him more times than he could count. When he was arrested, when he was arraigned, every bunk inspection, every chow time. And always with weapons trained on him. It only took taking a shotgun butt to the back of the head one time early in his bid to learn to be silent, still, and compliant real quick.
Keeping his hands in view supposedly made him less threatening. But him with his amber-brown skin, light eyes, and dark hair meant he matched the description of whatever racial or ethnic group was being profiled that month. To some,hewould always be a trigger.
Maurice heard Tommie’s approach before he saw him.
“Eyy, B, what time you getting in?” Tommie shouted from somewhere down the long hall that led to the den. Details had never been one of his friend’s strengths and time always more of a loose suggestion.
Maurice, still hunched over his bag, took inventory for the… he’d lost count, cocked his head in confusion. He envied Tommie’s freedom to be imprecise and imperfect. He pulled out his phone, pausing at the text notifications, before opening his flight confirmation.Newark to Miami to San Juan.
“For the umpteenth time, I’ll get there a little after four a.m. local time,” Maurice shouted back.
“Flying is supposed to reduce travel time, my brother,” Tommie said, entering the room and handing Maurice a portable PA system. “A good deal shouldn’t feel like punishment. By the time you get there, it’ll be next year, and you’ll have missed all the fun.”
Laughing, Tommie set another record under the needle. “I would have spotted your stubborn ass so you could leave with the rest of us.”
“Whatever. Why do you need me to bring this?” Maurice zipped the PA system into his bag and managed a tight smile. At the first clap from an 808, Maurice clocked that Tommie put on theKrush Groovesoundtrack even before L.L. started rhyming.
“For beach day! You know I need my beats.” Tommie popped into a B-Boy stance. His imitation of one of their favorite rappers was still whack.
“You are not and will never be L.L. Wouldn’t a little Bluetooth speaker be enough?”
“But we need the mics for the speeches.” Tommie sat down in the plush armchair beside Maurice.
Maurice rolled his eyes. He made speeches almost every week, but talking in front of people he didn’t know well about Tommie and what their forty-plus years of friendship meant to him felt like a breach of their bond and something in himself that Maurice hadn’t yet named.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet?”
“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”
Tommie laughed. “You’re right.”
“But”—Maurice let out a long sigh—“who all is coming? There are some numbers in the chat that I don’t have in my phone.”
He pulled his phone out again, scrolling through the latest text thread he’d been watching for hours. His few contributions to the conversation were intended to diffuse what he perceived as tension. Everybody on the chat seemed to be pressed about this one number.Must be somebody special. “Do I need to save that number?”
“Whose number?” Tommie asked.
Maurice pursed his lips. “My brother, if I knew whose number, I wouldn’t be asking if I should save it.” He showed his phone to Tommie. “This one,” he said, pressing the text bubble. A menu popped up. Maurice hissed in frustration at the hearts and laughing faces that appeared. “Dang it!” These smartphones made him feel dumb.