Pride: Chapters 14–18

“No. You have to learn how to express your thoughts without any metaphors or flowery words,” she mumbles.

I walk toward the entrance, and it's exactly how I've seen it in videos and pictures. The brown brick buildings are regal. Giant green lawns spread across the campus.

All of Howard is clean and airy. No clutter.

“Hi, Zuri!” one of the girls sings after I introduce myself. “I’m Diane, and this is Sage. We’re juniors here at Howard and we’re student ambassadors.”

“Okay, Zuri. About ten other prospective applicants will join us for a brief tour, and you can learn about Howard University,” Sage says.

While her hug felt real, that little spiel didn’t.

I think of Hope Gardens, back in Bushwick, with its quads too, but with less green grass and cleanliness, and less of just about everything.

Her words fill my ears, the students fill my eyes, and I have the overwhelming sense that I belong here.

Have you
heard of the Dominican Republic, Mr. Howard?
Or maybe you’ve heard about a slave revolt
that happened in a country called Haiti?

“Well, you just gotta play your cards right. Get them grades up, and extracurricular activities are your ticket. Where you from, anyway?”

“Nice meeting you, Zuri,” she says. “Maybe I’ll see you back here for freshman orientation.”

The clapping is what gets me up from off my seat and adds the rhythm to my slow walk toward the small stage, up the short flight of steps, behind the microphone, and into the limelight.

Step onto my block
and walk these jagged
broken streets
and sidewalk cracks
like rickety bridges across our backs
to the ends of rainbows
reflecting off broken glass
where the pot of gold
is way on the other side
of this world.

I can feel that my words have earned me respect. Just like when Papi sits with his homies on the stoop to predict a politician's next move, theorize some foreign country's strategy, or know who's about to have beef with who on the block weeks before something goes down.

“Small world, huh?” is the first thing Darius says.
“Too small,” I say as I grab my bag without looking directly at him. “Way too small.”
“So small, I’m starting to feel claustrophobic,” Carrie says while shifting in her seat.

She pronounces her words perfectly. She enunciates.

Both Darius and Carrie are staring at me as if I’m about to pop off at the mouth or something, so I just say in my very best voice, the one I use to impress my teachers, “I understand. Bushwick is an acquired taste. I’m surprised your family would want to move there.”

“Home is a four-hour drive away. You just got your license. So I’m a little hesitant.”

As dinner begins, Mrs. Darcy goes on and on about her foundation, where she helps women and children from impoverished countries with something called micro grants.

As dinner begins, Mrs. Darcy goes on and on about her foundation, where she helps women and children from impoverished countries with something called micro grants.

I leave the lobster alone and eat the linguine.

“I’m sorry. Did you say your hood? So it is a little—how do I say—underdeveloped? Darius, I told your father to wait a few years, at least until Georgia is in college, to buy a house over there. You don’t fit in. None of you do. Your parents did not raise you that way. I’m sure it’s a culture clash for you, Darius. But my ambitious son wants to be a real-estate pioneer. I can’t believe he’s putting my dear grandchildren through all of that.”

“I’m sorry. Did you say your hood? So it is a little—how do I say—underdeveloped? Darius, I told your father to wait a few years, at least until Georgia is in college, to buy a house over there. You don’t fit in. None of you do. Your parents did not raise you that way. I’m sure it’s a culture clash for you, Darius. But my ambitious son wants to be a real-estate pioneer. I can’t believe he’s putting my dear grandchildren through all of that.”

Darius and I just stare at each other for a long second until his grandmother comes prancing to the door.

“Yeah, a little too cute and a little too naive,” Darius says.

Darius turns to me, concern etched between his thick eyebrows.

“Of course not. I bet Carrie eats fried chicken with a knife and fork. Oh, wait. She’s probably vegan.”

“Why are you using her as a gauge? You’re completely different, Zuri.”

Pride Comes before the Fall
(Haikus)

If I fall in love
Will I sink to the bottom
And swallow water

Wrapping around my
throat where a bittersweet song is
lodged.

Wrapping around my
throat where a bittersweet song is
lodged.

You serenade

Me while I sip this
honey lemonade potion,
you are a love brew.

Mouth dry,
lips chapped, I’m dreaming

Of quenching waters
and all I wanna do is
swim deep in this thing

Called lemonade where
bittersweet elixirs sooth
the soul like moist lips

Like Ochún in her
yellow dress swirling to the
drums, making all this

Sharp-tongued bitterness
submit to the queen bee
called my heart.