by Nia Arthurs
His mother didn’t look like she wanted to admit them, but Luke just walked forward and forced them to step back. The Zhangs migrated to the living room, staying grizzly silent.
Ashanti didn’t mind. She was too busy observing everything.
Luke’s family apartment looked like any other. For some reason, she’d expected something… different. Like swords, red banners, traditional Chinese dresses on the walls and maybe an urn with his ancestors’ ashes on the mantle.
There were a few traditional knickknacks and that ever-present golden cat, but barring those items, any Belizean of any ethnicity could be living here.
“Son, explain yourself,” Mrs. Zhang hissed.
“I’d like to introduce you to my…” Luke stopped. Glanced at her.
“Girlfriend,” she mouthed.
His Adam’s apple visibly bobbed. “My girlfriend.”
“Luke,” Mr. Zhang trembled, “I told you to wait before you did something like this.”
Ashanti felt a burst of happiness. He’d spoken in English. She could finally understand what they were saying.
Mrs. Zhang reddened. “You knew about this?”
Luke’s father responded in Mandarin after which his wife shot Ashanti a scathing glare.
Luke put a hand on her shoulder and continued speaking in their language.
Ashanti watched, slightly overwhelmed and fascinated, as the trio shot words back and forth. Her head bobbed from the father, to the mother, to the son and back again. They were like chattering birds, some words overlapping but all of it loud and indiscernible.
There were moments when Mrs. Zhang would look at her and speak. She didn’t need a Chinese dictionary to figure that whatever she was saying was far from flattering. Ashanti smiled politely, however, and kept quiet.
As Luke continued arguing, Mrs. Zhang began to cry. The tears flowed down her face, and she shook her head. “No, this is impossible. Impossible.”
Her accent was heavy, but Ashanti got the gist. She bowed her head. “I apologize if I upset you. I care deeply for your son, ma’am. Please accept us.”
“Never!” Mrs. Zhang got up with a huff and stormed down the hallway. A moment later, a door slammed and things started crashing.
Luke winced.
His father turned to them with disappointed eyes. “Please take her and go.”
“Dad…”
“Now,” Mr. Zhang said. Ashanti was not his child, but in that moment, she tasted the fear that came with disobeying him.
She tugged on Luke’s arm. “Come on.”
He allowed her to help him up and, together, they fled the apartment with the sound of his mother’s tantrum chasing them all the way down the stairs.
When they were safely inside the car, Ashanti put a hand to her heart and found that it was racing. She blew out a breath and spoke to the silence. “So… that went well.”
Luke glanced at her like she was crazy. “Which part?”
“All of it? Except the end,” she tacked on. Her sleeve rustled against the leather seat of his car as she turned on her side and stared at his face. “What did they say?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Should I take a tape recorder next time? So I can translate later?”
“There won’t be a next time,” Luke said firmly. He shoved his key in the ignition and started the car.
“What do you mean? We just got started.”
He remained quiet.
“Luke, at least tell me what they said.”
He only worked his jaw and stared straight ahead, ignoring her.
A few minutes later, Luke parked in front of her house. “Goodnight.”
“Oh. Now you want to talk to me.”
“Drop it, Ash.”
She folded her arms over her chest and shook her head. “Not until you tell me what they said.”
He licked his lips and, for a moment, she wondered if he would try to physically out her from his car.
After a few beats, he shared—“Mom said that she was shocked I was dating a black woman. That I’d dishonored them by dating outside my race despite their instructions not to.”
“Really?” Ashanti frowned.
“They reminded me of everything they’ve done for me—paying my tuition, feeding and clothing me. They said they’d done all they could to accept my choices so far, but they would never accept or support us. This was a line I couldn’t cross.”
Ashanti’s head started to hurt, but she put on a brave face. “Is that all?”
“I told them why I liked you, well… Michelle. That her race didn’t matter to me. Dad said I should be concerned about that. He wanted to know what I would do when I faced opposition from my extended family and friends.”
“Who cares about what they think? They either get with the program or get left behind.”
“He… also said I was naïve to believe I could ignore the hierarchy of life.”
“What hierarchy?”
Luke glanced away.
She insisted. “What did he mean, Luke?”
“In his opinion,” Luke demonstrated the levels with his hands, “whites are at the top. Then Asians. Hispanics. And then blacks.”
Ashanti sat in sickened silence. What could she say that would make his statement any less racist?
“Ash?”
“Is that really what they think? That you’d be marrying down if you married black?”
“Yes. He meant exactly that.” Luke stabbed the steering wheel with his hand. “You see why I can’t allow this to continue? I’ve never made my parents so angry. They won’t accept Michelle, no matter what I do. There’s no use putting you through that kind of torture.”
“We can’t just give up.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said, Ash?” Luke raised his voice. “Didn’t you see the way my mom acted? She cried. Despite all the horrible things they said, they’re my parents.”
“And you’re a twenty-five-year-old man who lives in his own apartment and manages his own business,” Ashanti fired back. “When do they respect your decisions?”
“That’s not how it works.”
“Stop with that bull excuse,” she snapped. “Things don’t change if you sit silently and watch injustice happen.” She tapped her foot against the floor mat. “Bring me to your next family event.”
“No.”
She pretended not to have heard him. “I’ll start learning Mandarin in my free time. I’m a journalist. It’s always good to learn another language.”
“Ash, I mean it. I’m done.”
She opened her door. “If I don’t hear from you in three days, I’m going to the café and telling Uncle Eddie we’re dating.”
“You wouldn’t.”
She slipped onto the sidewalk and leaned down so she could see him. “See you later, Luke.”
“Ashanti!”
She walked faster and quickly opened her front door before he could chase her. When she was safely inside, Ashanti flipped on her light so Luke would know she was alright and then sank against the door.
The harshness of his parents’ words ballooned over her head, pressing her into the ground.
Did all Asians in Belize think that way? Were they silently judging her, deeming her less than compared to a Spanish girl or a white girl simply because of her darker skin tone?
Was there something wrong with her?
Ashanti thought highly of herself and her accomplishments—she’d graduated high school through to university with honors. She earned a job at a prestigious newspaper, one of the few still running in Belize. She did her best to be a good person and a contributing member of society.
But there were moments when her ‘black’ would come out, as her Grandma Flora used to say. Moments when she got loud, obnoxious or ignorant in response to a situation that frustrated her. Moments when her neck would roll and her head would bob.
She was black, an incarnation of everything associated with the word.
Maybe she didn’t have a child out of wedlock but her grandma did.
Maybe she hadn’t given birth to a child with an absentee father, but she knew plenty who did.
Her cousin was a gangster.
Her uncle had spent time in jail for rape in the 50’s.
Her father was fortunate enough to have gotten a scholarship to university, but most of her other relatives hadn’t and were struggling every week to make ends meet. They lived in poverty and gave birth to more children so they were stuck in it.
The stereotypes she hated were a common part of her immediate history.
Did the Zhangs have solid grounds to stand on?
Feeling restless and sorry for herself, Ashanti ran to the one person she always did when things got confusing.
Her dad.
He answered on the second ring. His deep voice rumbled over her, swaddling her in a cocoon of familiarity and love. “Hello, honey.”
“Dad…”
“Ashanti.” He immediately grew serious. “Are you crying?”
“Of course not. I just… stubbed my toe.”
He took a few seconds before answering. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing much.”
“What were you doing before you called?”
“Reading.” She got an idea and added, “In the story, the black heroine just visited her friend’s Chi—I mean Indian parents. They thought the girl was dating their son and said some nasty things that made her cry…”
“Honey, don’t read those types of books if they upset you that much.”
“It’s not the book, Dad. I told you. I hurt my little toe.”
“If you say so,” he rumbled. “Now what’s the problem?”
“Nothing.” She wiped her nose, feeling stronger just by hearing her father’s voice. “Everything is fine.”
“Okay…” he drew the word out so she knew he didn’t believe her. “Either stop reading or hurry and skip to the end when the black girl and the Indian guy get together.”
Ashanti gawked. “They’re not going to have that kind of ending. They’re just friends.”
“If they’re just friends, why is the girl acting heartbroken over what his parents said?”
“She’s not heartbroken per say…”
“If there were no feelings there, she shouldn’t care.”
“She doesn’t. She’s offended on behalf of all black people.”
“You said she was crying. If she wasn’t emotionally involved with the young man, wouldn’t it make sense for her to just shake their words and keep it moving? Why would she cry?”
Ashanti wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “Well…”
“But what do I know? I’m not an author, right?”
“Right.” She laughed awkwardly.
“Sounds like an interesting book. What’s the name of it? I’d like to read it sometime.”
Read a book that didn’t exist? Ashanti panicked and yelled into the phone, “Hello? Dad?” She made a whooshing noise. “I can’t hear you. You’re breaking up.”
“Ashanti?”
She pressed the END button and thrust the phone to her chest. Normally, her father’s words brought her clarity, but this time she was left more confused than ever.
There was no way she had feelings for Luke beyond friendship. Was there?
Chapter Seven
Luke’s phone buzzed with another message. His hand stopped. Fingers gripped the cloth he’d been using to wipe a table down. The device vibrated again. He didn’t bother taking it out.
Over the past few days, his parents had blown up his phone with texts and calls, demanding to know what they had done to deserve this dishonor and if he was serious about dating a black girl.
They called him self-centered. Ungrateful. Useless.
They warned him that society would never accept their union.
Last night, his mother had called and cried over the line, asking why he didn’t love them. She demanded he choose between his girlfriend and his family, threatening to cut him off so that he was no longer their son.
Luke could have told them he had let Michelle go, but something in him refused to get the words out. Maybe it was the vestiges of teenaged rebellion. Maybe it was because he still liked Michelle and couldn’t lie to them.
Whatever the case, he did his best to reason with his parents.
No, he didn’t hate them.
No, this wasn’t about choosing sides.
Yes, he liked a black girl and was serious about her.
No matter what he said, his parents always came back with another emotional ploy to try and change his mind.
Luke was, frankly, a little surprised. He hadn’t expected this level of backlash. Or, more specifically, he hadn’t expected this level of emotional resistance.
Sure, he’d anticipated they would be angry and accuse him of bringing them shame, but this assault on his character and their ultimatum of choosing between his relationship and his family—that he hadn’t been prepared for.
He finished wiping the table and trotted behind the counter to wash the cloth off in the sink. The water was warm against his hands and by the time he’d squeezed the cloth dry and laid it out, he was ready to go home.
“Luke?” Uncle Eddie closed the door to the kitchen and walked over to him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Yes?” Luke flipped the light switch back on and watched his uncle approach.
Eddie climbed into one of the bar stools and stared him down. There was an extra intensity in his eyes that made Luke uncomfortable. He strode nearer and waited for his uncle to speak.
Eddie licked his lips. “I spoke to your parents.”
“Okay.” The Zhangs were a close family and they spoke regularly. It wasn’t an announcement that required such a grave expression. Unless…
“Your mother said you were dating a black woman. Is that true?”
He avoided his uncle’s gaze. “Why would they bother telling you that?”
“Because they’re very disappointed.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Luke waved his uncle’s concerns away. “I’ll deal with my parents.”
“I’m sorry, Luke. I can’t overlook this.”
“Why not? It has nothing to do with you or the shop.”
“Your mother wants me to fire you,” Eddie said.
Luke’s head whipped toward the man sitting stoically on the barstool. “Uncle…”
“I told you not to get involved with that woman, Luke. I warned you that it would only bring heartache and pain, not only for you but for your parents as well. How will they hold their head up in society?”
“I’m dating a black woman, not murdering a village.”
Eddie didn’t react to his comment. “What do you expect me to do?”
“You would seriously fire me over this?”
“Will you break up with her if I said yes?”
Silence fell between them. Luke’s chest heaved. The unfairness of it all seeped beneath his skin and burned. Everything in him wanted to lash out, but Uncle Eddie had been pulled into this fight. He hadn’t chosen to get involved.
“Well?” Eddie prodded.
“I love this café.” Luke glanced at the blue walls, colorful tables, comfy booths, and the posters he’d customized. “I’ve worked hard for you, to prove my worth. If I have to leave, I’ll go knowing I made this place better.”
“You will stand by your choice? Give up a shop that, in a few years, will belong solely to you?”
Luke dipped his head.
“Very well.” Eddie turned around and shuffled out the door.
Luke rubbed his temple, squeezing his eyes shut to calm himself.
So his mom had gone after the café now?
That was low. Effective, but low.
Feeling restless, he pulled down the shutters of the store and then hopped into his car, driving toward the sea. When he spotted the water thrashing against the concrete wall lining the edge of the
city, he stopped and stared through the windshield.
The sky was dark and very few stars were visible. The moon hovered over the angry waves, spilling silver light on the dark horizon.
Belize was a beautiful country, and he was proud to be a citizen. His parents had moved from China to the Caribbean before he was born, so this view, this people, and this life was all he’d ever known.
He climbed out of his car and trotted closer to the sea wall. The wind tore at his hair and T-shirt, flapping it around like a flag gone awry. The scent of salt hung heavy in the air. He breathed deeply, allowing it to cleanse him from the inside.
His phone buzzed again. This time, Luke pulled it out and answered. “Hello, Ma.”
“Has Eddie spoken to you?”
He briefly contemplated throwing his phone into the water as an excuse not to answer. Instead he gripped it tighter and said, “Yes.”
“Then it’s settled? You’ll forget this black woman and move on?”
“No.”
“Luke!”
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. For Luke, the cause of his war was moving. Morphing. This wasn’t just a fight to date Michelle, but one to have his decisions respected. “I love you and dad both. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
“Then why are you disobeying us?”
“I don’t need your permission to date anyone.”
“Please, Luke. Tell us where we went wrong. We raised you the best we could. We paid your school fees. Sent you off to college and did our best to support you from here. Why can’t you see how much you’re dishonoring us?”
“Give her a chance, Mom. You don’t even know her.”
“You would really chose a woman over your parents who’ve raised you all your life?”
“Why can’t I have both?”
“Talk to him,” his mother muttered.
A moment later, his father came on the line. “Son?”
“Hey, Dad,” Luke said with a sigh.
“What’s going on? Your mother’s been crying herself to sleep for three days now. Let the war end and do the right thing.”
“Dad, why are you and mom being so extreme? If you had a problem with her personality or her character, I’d understand. But you’re denouncing her simply because of her race.”
“You want to call me a racist?” His dad hissed. “Fine. I’ll be a racist to protect my son. The world will say much worse.” He paused. “I need to go. Your mother is bawling again.”