by Mark Oshiro
He looked out at the crowd. “It’s happened before, hasn’t it? Maybe not here but in other schools. Walkouts are pretty effective, aren’t they?”
His mother beamed admiration at him, and she nearly lost control of the conversation once again. Moss felt like the ignition for a fire, and as the people in Blessed Way began to talk strategy and logistics, he looked at Esperanza. His mother. Javier. His friends scattered about the room. All the anger and anxiety gave way to something new: hope. Maybe it wouldn’t last long, but he wasn’t going to fight it. Not this time.
18
“You nervous?” Javier asked. He stuffed his phone back in his pocket and sat down next to Moss on the bench outside Brown Sugar Kitchen. There were still at least a few parties ahead of them, so he settled in for the long wait to be seated.
“I know you haven’t known me long,” Moss said, “but I’m a pretty nervous guy in general. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”
Javier laughed. “I just got a message on Facebook from a friend of mine over at Eastside. Apparently news of your little protest thing has gotten over there.”
“Ah, that,” Moss said. “It’s barely been twenty-four hours, and it’s kinda taken on a life of its own.” He pulled out his own phone. “You’re not on Twitter, are you?”
“Not my thing. Snapchat, you know.”
“I noticed. You Snap everything, man. I’m surprised you haven’t sent me one from the shower.”
Javier’s eyebrow curled. “Would you like one?”
“We can talk about that later,” he said, then laughed. “And yeah, maybe.”
“You’re so nasty, Moss. If only people knew the truth!”
Moss rolled his eyes at him, then scrolled down his timeline on Twitter. “Kaisha came up with a great hashtag. ‘EverybodyWalksInOakland.’ It’s pretty funny. Everyone’s referencing the walkout without actually being specific.”
“Pretty clever,” Javier admitted. “So how are you surprised this has gotten so big?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m not used to people caring. These things come in waves, you know?”
“What things?”
“Like … look, my mom’s been involved in a lot of stuff over the years. Protests, rallies, that sort of thing. And that was before my dad, too. I’m pretty sure her parents were involved with the Black Panthers here in Oakland. And it’s not that I don’t care about any of it, because I do. Maybe too much.”
“But it all comes and goes, right?” Javier said, scrunching up his face. “Yeah, I get that.”
“I know you won’t remember it, but my dad’s death was a phase, too,” said Moss, and he was a little surprised at how easy it was for him to talk about this with Javier. “Not for me, of course, but most people just stopped caring after a while. He was just another story, another unfortunate bit of history.” Moss paused, his gaze focused on the sidewalk. “You ever know what it’s like to be a statistic? Or part of one?”
Javier sighed. “Maybe not in the same way as you, but yeah. Mom came here when I was like … eight? Right after my father disappeared. I still don’t know where he went. He just left one night. My mom thinks it was with someone younger than her.” He shook his head. “It’s not important, but the point is that I’m not actually a citizen. We never managed to get citizenship for either of us.”
Moss didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just said, “I had no idea.”
“It’s okay,” said Javier. “It’s not something I should advertise, you know?”
“And your school has no problem with it?”
“Ha!” Javier slapped his own knee. “If they did, they’d have to eject half of the student body. Lots of kids there are just like me.”
“Wow,” Moss said, leaning back into the bench. “I feel like I learned your deep, dark secret.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Javier joked. “A gay immigrant from Guatemala. Wait until you see my agenda.”
Moss laughed, and it filled his spirit with a joy he’d not felt in a long time. He reached over, grasped Javier’s hand, and then brought it up to his mouth. He planted a kiss on it, delicate but purposeful. “You’re a national treasure, dude.”
“Thank you, Moss. The feeling is mutual.”
Moss smiled at that, and a boldness came over him. “It is, isn’t it?” he said.
Javier balked at that, and his left eyebrow shot up. God, I love when he does that. Javier studied his face. “Man, you’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am. Do you know how hard it’s been to just believe that you want to spend time with me?”
“I’ve noticed,” Javier said. “Why, though? Why would I want to hang out with you if I didn’t actually like you?”
“I don’t know,” Moss said, leaning into Javier. “Maybe you just wanted me for sex. We’re gay men. That’s not exactly an unbelievable suggestion.”
“Yeah, but I haven’t had sex either. I’m in the same boat as you.”
“The U.S.S. Sexual Frustration?”
“Ha ha ha,” said Javier. “We could take care of that if you wanted.”
Moss winced. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m ready yet.”
“It’s okay. I don’t know if I am either. But this hasn’t been about sex, has it? You always seemed bewildered that I even found you attractive.”
“Yeah.” He watched a couple get ushered into the restaurant, and the hostess gestured to him and Javier, letting him know they were next. He waved to her, and then looked back at Javier. Eyebrow raised. He really is too much. “What? Why you givin’ me that look?”
“Are you avoiding the subject at hand? Using social obligations to ignore the uncomfortable issue?”
“Maybe! Also, I’m starving, and I really need some chicken and waffles in my stomach soon.”
Javier leaned back against the building. “So what’s the problem?”
“I guess it’s hard to talk about,” Moss admitted. “But I really am a lot more cynical than people realize. At least in my head.”
“I get that. I mean, again: We’re gay men. And we’re not white.”
“That’s one part of it, but…” Moss nearly dropped the point he wanted to make, but he turned, positioning his body in Javier’s direction. He had to be honest with him about it, and now seemed like the best chance he was going to get. “I’m just gonna say it, man.”
“Say what?” Javier said. Moss saw the worry flit over him.
“Have you ever, like … dated a black guy?”
He furrowed his brows at first, looked away, then back at Moss. “Um … well, not a date. I was talking to some guy earlier this year. Nothing came of it, though.”
“I know it’s an awkward question, but it’s something I have to think about. All the time.”
Javier was nodding. “That’s fair,” he said. “I can’t imagine it’s easy. You know, asking that question or having to worry about it.”
“I have to ask because … well, it’s not just a white thing, if that makes sense. I’ve had people who weren’t black say creepy things to me, and I gotta protect myself.”
“So that you don’t feel like a fetish, right? Like you’re just some experiment or something?” He shook his head. “Please tell me if I’m not getting this right.”
“That’s pretty much it,” Moss said. “Man, this is awkward. I’m sorry.”
“Nah, don’t apologize,” he said. He grabbed Moss’s hand. “You’re not the first, I guess, but still, I’ll also do my best to treat you right.”
“Thanks,” he said. “It’s one reason why I have a hard time believing you liked me,” he admitted, “but it’s not the only one. My brain just … doesn’t cooperate.”
“You mean like a self-esteem thing?”
“Well, it’s sort of like that,” said Moss. “But just imagine that no matter what you see or hear, your mind tells you it’s wrong. That’s what I’ve got working against me. Like, you can tell me that you find me hot, and my brain
will literally tell me that you don’t mean it, that you’re lying to me, that you’re just stringing me along in order to hurt me later.”
Javier didn’t say anything at first, and the silence was worse than if he’d said something terrible. He stared forward and remained still except for the slight movement from his breathing. Oh no, Moss thought. Have I found the breaking point? Is this where he leaves me?
But before the panic could settle in, Javier squeezed Moss’s hand, then raised it and kissed it much like Moss had done minutes earlier. “That helps me understand you,” he said. “And I want to understand you better.”
“Really?” Moss turned his head to face Javier, and not even his cynical brain could deny what he saw. Javier’s eyes were aglow with interest. It was genuine. Real.
“If you need me to say it, over and over again, I will.” Javier stood up then, his hand still locked in Moss’s, and he pulled him up and into an embrace. “Even if it’s corny,” he said into Moss’s ear, then he kissed him on the cheek. “Even if it’s repetitive.” He kissed him on the other one. “Morris Jeffries, Jr.: I think you’re pretty awesome.”
Moss didn’t care that there were other people waiting for lunch, that some were staring at the two of them, that in any other situation, he’d probably be embarrassed to death. He kissed Javier, deep and hard, for a few seconds, then pulled away. “Thank you,” he said. “It means a lot to me.”
“Excellent,” Javier said. “And good timing, too. I think your name is up next.”
Moss looked behind him to see the hostess wave in his direction. “Let’s go, then.”
“You ready for our first official date together?” Javier teased. “Let me make sure to mark down this date on my calendar. I’ll celebrate it every year.”
A year. The idea was new to Moss, and it scared him a little. But he sat at a small table across from Javier, and he could imagine himself doing this again and again. Maybe that’s what Mama was talking about, he thought. Maybe this is what love feels like.
He sure hoped so.
They placed their order for food a few minutes later—Moss went with his standard, the cornmeal waffles and fried chicken, and Javier decided to try the BBQ shrimp and grits—and let the sheer chaos of noise settle in around them. Moss had only been here once when it wasn’t packed, early on a weekday during the summer when his mom had a day off. It was generally worth the wait, though, and he started salivating as he watched plates get delivered to every table that wasn’t his.
“You ever been out on a date before?” Javier asked as Moss gaped at a bowl of grits with envy on his face.
“Me?” He shook his head. “Never got to that point with anyone before.”
“No one? I find that hard to believe.”
Moss blushed as the waitress refilled his water. “It’s true, though,” he said. “There was a guy last year at my school. I had had a crush on him for most of my freshman year, and he came out at the start of our sophomore year.”
“And you made your move then, right?”
“Oh, god no,” said Moss, laughing. “I waited in silent terror for at least a month before I even spoke to him.”
“And how did that go?” Javier asked.
Moss grimaced. “Well, let’s just say he wasn’t very interested in guys who had my luxurious skin tone.”
“You’re kidding,” said Javier. Then he shook his head. “Of course you’re not.”
“Welcome to the Bay Area,” said Moss. “Liberal bastion of progress.”
“I’ve had my fair share of guys who made taco jokes at me or asked to see my … ahem.” He cleared his throat and looked around at the tables near them, then leaned closer to Moss. “My burrito,” he whispered.
Moss squinted. “I don’t get it,” he said. “Did they think you just carried a—” His eyes shot open. “Oh. Oh my god.”
“Indeed,” said Javier. “Not my most dignified moment.”
A plate of biscuits and jam was dropped off then, and Moss pulled it toward him. “Sorry, I’m starving,” he said, and he spread some boysenberry jam over a warm biscuit. “I think some people think being gay here in the Bay means that all our problems are solved.”
“That’s because they don’t see us as anything else,” said Javier, grabbing the other biscuit and buttering it. “It’s like we’re a single, solitary identity and nothing more. The world is hella complicated! There’s more to it than that.”
“Amen,” said Moss, wiping some crumbs off his patchy facial hair. “By the way, I could eat these every day of my life and never tire of them.”
“I gotta have my mom’s cooking, though. I can’t live without it.”
Moss put his elbows on the table and leaned on them, a smile growing as he examined Javier’s face. “Thanks for this,” he said. “And I don’t just mean the date.”
“No problem, man,” he said, smiling back. “This has been a pretty wild couple of weeks.”
“You realize we, like, skipped over the whole awkward Dating 101 shit, right?”
Javier put the other half of his biscuit in his mouth and chewed for a few seconds. “What do you mean?”
“You know … like, ‘Hi, what are you into? What do you do in your free time?’”
“Ugh,” Javier groaned. “‘What are you into?’ I hate that question. You know they’re trying to ask about sex without outright saying it.”
“Right? And as soon as you call a dude on it, they get all hella defensive about it.” Moss leaned back into his chair and stretched his leg out, rubbing it up against Javier. Javier smirked at Moss. “Well, I like video games. Comic books. Reading. Finding a good record and disappearing into it. I hate long walks on the beach, by the way. All that damn sand in your shoes.” He shuddered.
“You read comic books?” Javier asked, pointing a butter knife at him. “You never told me that.”
“Some,” he said. “It’s hard to keep up with everything, and they keep messing up the stuff I like. Like Captain America or Miles Morales.”
“Don’t even get me started,” said Javier. “I stick to indie stuff, mostly. Lots of comics online.” He paused, pursed his lips.
“What is it?”
It looked like Javier had grimaced. “I kinda like drawing my own comics,” he said, his voice lower than before.
Moss whooped. “No way,” he said. “Lemme see some! You got any on your phone or anything?”
Then it washed over Javier’s face: redness. He’s blushing. Suddenly, Moss didn’t feel so bad about being sensitive and easily riled. He reached over to put his hand on top of Javier’s. “Dude, I’m sorry, you don’t have to show me anything. I promise.”
“Nah, I wanna,” he said, his eyes darting up to Moss, then back down to the table. “It’s just that I’m still learning. I’m not very good.”
“Girl, I can barely draw a circle. I’m sure you’re very talented.”
Javier finally gave Moss a full gaze. “Okay, soon, then. My friend Carlos is teaching me stuff … this kid is wild, man.” His eyes were lit up again, the embarrassment gone from his face. “I have to introduce you to him. He’s this tiny little guy from Chile; his parents came here not too long after me and my mamá did. Hella quiet, but he can do these unreal pieces. The teachers had him paint a mural at our school!”
“You know,” said Moss, “I actually feel really excited by the idea of meeting your friends. I can’t say I expected that.”
“Well, I couldn’t imagine getting to know someone like you,” Javier said. “You’re so damn cute. And you care about the world, too. That’s … well, that’s rare.”
Their waitress returned and dropped two steaming plates of food in front of them. The smell of the spices on the chicken wafted up, and a pang of hunger hit Moss again. But it couldn’t even touch the surge of affection he felt for Javier.
“Y’all need anything else? Maybe some extra syrup,” the waitress said.
“Please,” said Moss. Javier shook his head and thanke
d her, then looked back to Moss. He raised his glass of orange juice to him. “I know I gave a toast the other night outside Esperanza’s house, but we didn’t actually have drinks in our hands, so it doesn’t count.”
Moss raised up his water. “To … new possibilities,” he said.
“To good food and even better company,” said Javier.
“And to dismantling a system of violence in my school,” said Moss playfully, and they clinked glasses and laughed. They dug into their food, and Moss savored the mixture of the cornmeal waffles with the sweetness of the syrup, the kick of the chicken, and watched Javier’s eyes bulge as he took his first bite of the grits. They devoured their food quickly and quietly, but the moment seemed to last forever. Moss would not have cared if it really hadn’t ended. He could stay in this restaurant, across from this handsome boy, for an eternity.
19
The news passed from person to person.
Moss saw people whispering in homeroom when he arrived on Monday morning; one was that girl Njemile currently had a crush on, and there were two guys on the football team on the opposite side of the room who glanced at Moss quickly, then looked away, their voices hushed and husky. Mrs. Torrance had her eyebrows raised when he looked her way. Would this plan get back to the other teachers at some point? Mrs. Torrance was at the church, but what if the less-invested administration got wind of it beforehand?
Stop thinking of the worst, Moss told himself as he sat down. We’ll deal with that if it happens. He looked over at Njemile, and she was already smiling at him. “What?” Moss said.
She shook her head. “It’s kinda cool, isn’t it? The way everyone seems so excited.”
“I hope they’re excited,” he said. “I still don’t believe it’s happening.”
“Oh, Moss,” she said. “How little faith you have in others.”
“Do you blame me? I don’t have much faith to go on these days, what with the world ending around us.”
“You know, sometimes it does feel like we’re in one of those trendy dystopian novels,” she admitted. “Except a lot less white.”