Hoodie

by S. Walden

  “Where is his church?” her mother asked.

  “Near his house,” Emma replied. There was no point in lying about it.

  “Near West Highland Park?” her father asked. He was picking through the Sunday paper for the business section.

  “Yes Dad. Right down the road.”

  “Hmm,” her father replied.

  “Well honey, I don’t know how comfortable I feel with you going over to that side of town,” her mother confessed. She took another sip of her coffee.

  “I’ve already been there,” Emma said boldly.

  They looked at her, eyebrows raised in question.

  “I mean, I’ve taken Anton home from school a couple of times,” she clarified.

  “Does he not have his own car?” her mother asked. Her tone was laced with conceit, and Emma hated it.

  “I don’t know, Mom. He lives in West Highland Park. Do you think he has his own car?”

  “Emma?” her father said testily.

  “I’m sorry,” Emma replied quickly.

  There was a brief moment of silence before her father spoke.

  “And his mother will be going with you?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Is this for your class project?” he asked.

  Emma smiled. “No. He invited me to go and I said yes.”

  “Hmm,” her father replied.

  Emma checked her watch. She really needed to be leaving at that moment.

  “When will you be home?” her mother asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m eating lunch with them afterwards,” Emma said.

  “Where?” her mother asked.

  Jesus, she thought. They’ve never before asked her so many questions. Most of the time they didn’t have a clue what she was doing.

  “At his house,” she replied. “Mom, Dad, I really have to go now. I don’t want to be late.”

  “Very well,” her father said. “Be careful and call us after church and before you come home.”

  Be careful, she thought amused. Did they not hear her say she was going to church?

  “I will,” she said and turned to leave.

  The urge to say it boiled over. She really just wanted to see their reactions, but she had to make sure she could escape before they made her stay home. She was standing in the entryway and could still see into the breakfast room. They had gone back to eating their toast and reading the Sunday paper. It was now or never.

  “Oh yeah, I almost forgot,” she called to them, and she watched as they looked up from their reading. “I’m dating him.”

  She was out the front door in no more than three strides. She couldn’t believe how nimble she was wearing heels. She didn’t turn around when she heard her parents at the door. She never moved so fast in her life, and was in the car pulling out of the driveway before she realized she had started it. She looked up then and saw them standing in the doorway. They didn’t look angry. They looked clearly puzzled, like they had no idea who this child was that they had raised for seventeen years.

  ***

  Emma hesitated before entering Mount Zion Baptist Church. Anton noticed it and told his mother that they would be right in. Ms. Robinson went ahead to find seats.

  “You a’ight?” he asked her. She was wearing a summer dress with a short-sleeve cardigan. She had on her pearls as usual and looked the perfect picture of a churchgoer.

  “I’m too embarrassed to say it,” she said blushing.

  “What?”

  “I’ve never been inside a church. Well, I mean not to worship or whatever. I went to a few weddings.” She fidgeted nervously. “I don’t know what to expect. Will God see me and know I don’t go to church? Will he strike me down with a bolt of lightning as punishment?”

  It took everything within him not to fall to the floor laughing. She looked genuinely frightened. He maintained his composure and squeezed her hand.

  “God don’t do that. He know you don’t go to church. He God after all. But he not gonna strike you down with no lightning,” Anton assured her.

  She seemed mildly relieved and let him lead her into the sanctuary.

  It was hot as hell. She thought that couldn’t be right. How was a church going to feel like hell? Shouldn’t it feel heavenly inside? Where was the air conditioning? She noticed ladies in large hats fanning themselves. There were large hats everywhere. They were fabulous, she thought. Feathers, wide brims, bright colors, even rhinestones. It was as though the ladies were in a competition to see who could impress God the most with her hat. Suddenly Emma wanted her own hat. She thought that maybe that would put her in better standing with the Almighty.

  They found Anton’s mother near the back of the church and had a seat. Only then did Emma realize she was one of the few white people in the congregation. She knew to expect it, but it still made her uneasy. Would they wonder why she was there? Were they wishing she’d leave, knowing she didn’t belong there, that she wasn’t one of them, that she could never understand their faith or the way they worshipped?

  “Here Emma,” Ms. Robinson said handing her a fan. “It can get real hot in here. The air conditioning ain’t workin’ right now.”

  Emma accepted the fan with gratitude. She was sure she would not be able to make it through the service without it. She began fanning herself immediately, feeling the rush of coolness hit her face and neck. It felt delicious.

  “You can fan me too if you want,” Anton said, his face glistening. He was all buttoned up, wrapped in a tie, looking hot and miserable.

  “Maybe later,” she replied. He laughed quietly.

  The service began shortly after they had taken their seats. There was music—music like nothing Emma had ever heard. It was loud and powerful, urging the congregation to clap with joy, lift their hands to the ceiling and sway, even holler. She heard a lot of “Praise Jesus’s” and “Glory, Hallelujah’s.” It was hard to not be affected by the emotion pouring forth from the pews and pews of people even if she did not understand it. They believed in something powerful—that she understood. And she thought that she wanted to feel it, to believe in something like that, to raise her hands to the ceiling and let the certainty of it fill her up. The emotion never waned, even when the pastor took his place behind the pulpit to preach. In fact, Emma noticed that it seemed heightened.

  “I had a sermon prepared,” he began.

  “Mmhmm,” came a chorus of voices.

  “But God spoke to me this morning and gave me a new one.”

  “Praise God!” the congregation shouted.

  “You see, some of you here today are hurtin’. And you need a message of hope. I know the pain of livin’ in this world. Just ‘cause I’m a pastor don’t mean I don’t feel it.”

  “Yes,” came the agreement.

  “I know the pain of adversity. When you feel the whole world is against you. You work hard. You try hard. But the world push you down. The world make you feel like you nothin’,” the pastor continued.

  “That’s right,” his congregation said.

  “You know what God say?” he asked.

  “Tell us!”

  “He say, ‘Rise up! You my warriors! Pick yo’selves up because I give you the strength!’”

  There were shouts all around.

  “Lean on me! And then you can do anything. You can rise up on them wings, just like the eagles. You can run and not be weary. You can walk and not faint,” the pastor said.

  “Praise Jesus!”

  “Glory, Hallelujah!”

  “Amen!”

  “Thank you, Lord,” Ms. Robinson said quietly, fanning herself rapidly.

  Emma could not ignore the lump in her throat. It had crept up during the singing and now sat waiting at the back of her mouth. She did not know what it meant, but it felt like the lump in one’s throat before the tears come. She could not understand why she felt like crying. She had nothing to cry about. She experienced no adversity. They all did, she thought, as she looked around her. They were poor
and struggling. They were from rough neighborhoods. But she wasn’t. The pastor couldn’t possibly be addressing her, she thought. But then why did she feel like he was?

  “You see, when you try to do it on yo’ own, you gonna fail,” the pastor said. “Every time, you gonna fail. And then you stay trapped in that adversity. You stay victim to this world. But when you give it all to God, and I mean all. You can’t be holdin’ nothin’ back. You got to give it all. When you do that, he bless you beyond measure. And then you see yo’ strength return. You see yo’ smile return. You see yo’ life return!”

  There was an eruption of clapping so hard throughout the building that Emma feared the walls would give way and crumble to the ground. She fanned herself harder, pushing down the lump in her throat until she felt her emotions were under control. The power of the message, though she understood so little of it, infused her heart. She had the urge to shout out as they did, but she wasn’t sure she was allowed. She was a guest, after all, and white. It might not be her place to cry “Glory, Hallelujah!” And so she contented herself with shouting it quietly in her heart where no one but God might hear.

  She was quiet on the car ride back to their house, deep in reflection about what she just witnessed. She was not aware that they had been there for three hours until Anton told her. She felt she could have sat there all day listening to the pastor shout hopefulness into her. It was the hope that made her believe she could do this, that she could be with Anton, that she could fight her parents later on when they objected. As long as the pastor kept giving her hope, she could do it.

  Anton’s mother got to work straight away once they arrived home. Emma offered to help, but Ms. Robinson said she had it under control. She said the best help would be for them to find something to do for the next half hour since Anton was getting in her way while she was in the kitchen.

  “Get out from under my feet!” she yelled at him as he picked at a plate of fried chicken she had prepared in advance. “And stop picking at that plate!” she said slapping his hand away.

  “I can’t help it, Mama,” Anton replied. “I’m hungry. We was at church for like a million years. I’m starvin’. Emma, didn’t you hear my stomach growlin’?”

  Emma shook her head. She took no notice that he was even beside her during the service.

  “Well it was,” he said, and his hand went back to the chicken.

  “If you touch that chicken I will whoop you so hard,” Ms. Robinson said.

  Anton looked at his mother and grinned.

  “Mama, you ain’t gonna whoop a grown man,” he said, his hand poised over the succulent meat. Emma wished she could pick at it too. She didn’t realize until she saw it that she was hungry.

  “Try me,” Ms. Robinson said flatly.

  He withdrew his hand reluctantly and walked out of the kitchen.

  “Go down to Ellie’s and get some soda. Why don’t you do that?” she asked, and turning to the stove added, “And get outta my hair.”

  “A’ight,” Anton replied. He grabbed Emma’s hand and pulled her along out the door and down the stairs.

  Emma instinctively walked to the car and Anton stopped her.

  “We ain’t drivin’. It’s just down the road,” he said.

  “Oh,” she replied, uncertain. She looked down at her Prada heels and bit her lip.

  “What?” he asked, watching her look at her shoes.

  “Nothing.”

  Anton grinned. “You want me to carry you to the store? So you don’t mess up your little shoes there? What you think? We gonna be takin’ a hike? The store literally right down the road.”

  She ignored him, lifting her chin indignantly, and started walking.

  “You goin’ the wrong way,” he pointed out.

  Without missing a beat, she turned on her heel and started in the opposite direction. Anton caught up with her and fell into step beside her.

  “You on a mission or somethin’? Slow down,” he said, grabbing her hand.

  She slowed her pace and let him entwine his fingers with hers.

  “How much them snazzy shoes cost anyway?” he asked looking at her feet.

  “Six hundred dollars,” she said, head still raised in the air. She felt her body jerk as Anton stopped short still holding her hand.

  She turned to face him.

  “What?” she said. “You asked.”

  “Maybe I should be carryin’ you then,” Anton replied.

  Emma looked at him evenly.

  “Is this going to be a problem?” she asked. “Because you know my family has money. And you told me I shouldn’t feel bad about that. You wanted to know what my shoes cost and I told you. Not all of my shoes cost six hundred dollars. These are a special pair, and I wore them today because I wanted to look good for you for church.” She looked at the ground while she awaited his response.

  Anton smiled, releasing her hand. “Nobody worried about how wealthy you are. I know you are. And I appreciate you wearin’ yo’ fancy shoes for me, but I prolly should of told you not to. We in the ghetto, you know. Someone might come steal ‘em right off yo’ feet.”

  “Well, that’s why you’re here, right?” she asked.

  Anton smiled. “Baby, I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

  He watched the expression on Emma’s face change. It brightened ever so slightly.

  “You’ve never called me that before,” she said.

  “What? ‘Baby?’ Sure I have.”

  “No. Never. You always call me ‘girl.’ Sometimes you say my name.”

  “Girl, you crazy. I’ve called you ‘baby’ lots of times.”

  He started walking again, taking her hand and leading her along. Emma felt herself glowing. She was his baby, and she liked it.

  Ellie’s was literally right down the road, no more than two blocks. It was a small locally-owned corner store. The outside was littered with brightly colored advertisement signs and old cigarette butts. There were metal bars on the door and in the windows. A few men hung around the outside of the building smoking and drinking from long brown paper bags. Emma noticed the neck of a bottle poking out of the top of one bag, the contents within a clear liquid.

  Anton opened the door for her. She walked in hesitantly and looked around. There was the strong smell of grease coming from the back and she noticed a deli counter up front with every deep fried food she could imagine. Some foods she didn’t recognize. A large man stood behind the counter counting change to a customer. He looked up when the door opened and nodded to Anton. Apparently they knew each other.

  “‘Course I know him,” Anton said when Emma asked. “I come here almost every day.”

  He took her hand and led her to the refrigerators that housed the sodas. Kareem, Johnny D, and Lamar were there, faces stuck to the glass of the refrigerator doors trying to decide on a drink.

  “What trouble you get yo’selves into today?” Anton asked approaching them.

  “Man, it’s the Lord’s day. You don’t get in no trouble on the Lord’s day,” Lamar replied bumping Anton’s fist. The strong smell of weed wafted from him.

  “You got yo’ girl here?” Johnny D asked. He did some sort of handshake with Anton that involved snapping fingers and bumping fists. Emma made a note to herself to ask him to show her how to do that.

  “Yeah. We just got back from church,” Anton replied.

  “You take her to yo’ church?” Kareem asked then burst out laughing.

  “What’s wrong with my church, nigga?” Anton asked.

  “Man, it ain’t yo’ church. It’s any black church,” Kareem replied, and then addressing Emma he said, “Girl, I can’t even believe you still alive.”

  Emma smiled shyly. She did not understand what he meant.

  “Man, Emma, was you scared in there?” Lamar asked.

  “No,” she replied. “Why would I be?”

  “That’s just a lotta black folks to be around at one time,” Johnny D said. “And for such a long time, too.”

&
nbsp; “Yeah, man. That’s why I can’t be doin’ no church. It just take too long,” Lamar said. “I just gotta worship the Lord in my own way, know what I’m sayin’?”

  “How’s that? By smokin’ a blunt?” Anton asked. The boys laughed.

  “Man, whateva,” Lamar mumbled.

  “Girl, wasn’t you afraid when everybody be shoutin’ and yellin’ things and singin’? Didn’t that singin’ make you nervous? They can get rowdy when that singin’ starts,” Kareem said.

  Emma shrugged. “I liked it. I liked everything, actually.” And then after a moment she added, “I really liked the hats.”

  They all stared at her.

  “You know. The ladies’ hats. They were beautiful. I’d like to have a hat like one of theirs.”

  The boys looked at each other and grinned.

  Anton put his arm around her shoulder. “No baby. You can’t have a hat like theirs.”

  They burst into laughter after that. Emma was confused. She didn’t get the joke. Why couldn’t she have a hat like theirs?

  “You seen Nate lately?” Anton asked.

  “Nah man. He doin’ his own thing. I think he hangin’ with that nigga from those Holly Springs projects. You remember that kid? He go to our school,” Johnny D replied.

  “That ‘lil punk?” Anton asked. There was a note of irritation in his voice. “Nate used to always be tellin’ me what a ‘lil shit he was.”

  “I know, man. I remember. But apparently he got a good weed connection. I even heard Nate started doin’ some other stuff,” Kareem said.

  “Other drugs? Like what?” Anton asked. He was in disbelief. He never thought Nate would go that far. They smoked weed occasionally, not nearly in the amount that Johnny D and Lamar did, but they never went past that. Anton never needed to. He thought it was the same for Nate.

  “I don’t know. Crack maybe,” Kareem said shrugging. “That nigga need an intervention or somethin’. Other day I tried to talk to him at school, and he brushed me off. I don’t know what he so mad about. I can’t believe it could still be over you and Emma.”

  Emma stiffened slightly.

  “I don’t know, man,” Anton replied. He thought for a moment then added,” Maybe I just gotta go talk to him.”