particular place he wanted to go. I needed to talk to him about that, as I’d promised Auma I would-a man-to-man
talk....
“You have seen Magic Johnson play?” Bernard asked me now, gathering himself for a shot. The ball went through the
netless rim, and I passed the ball back out to him.
“Just on TV.”
Bernard nodded. “Everybody has a car in America. And a telephone.” They were more statements than questions.
“Most people. Not everybody.”
He shot again and the ball clanged noisily off the rim. “I think it is better there,” he said. “Maybe I will come to
America. I can help you with your business.”
“I don’t have a business right now. Maybe after I finish law school-”
“It must be easy to find work.”
“Not for everybody. Actually, lots of people have a tough time in the States. Black people especially.”
He held the ball. “Not as bad as here.”
We looked at each other, and I tried to picture the basketball courts back in the States. The sound of gunshots nearby,
a guy peddling nickel hits in the stairwell-that was one picture. The laughter of boys playing in their suburban
backyard, their mother calling them in for lunch. That was true, too. The two pictures collided, leaving me tongue-tied.
Satisfied with my silence, Bernard returned to his dribbling.
When the sun became too strong, we walked to an ice-cream parlor a few blocks from the university. Bernard ordered
a chocolate sundae and began eating methodically, measuring out the ice cream half a teaspoon at a time. I lit a
cigarette and leaned back in my chair.
“Auma tells me that you’re thinking about trade school,” I said.
He nodded, his expression noncommittal.
“What kind of courses are you interested in?”
“I don’t know.” He dipped his spoon in his sundae and thought for a moment. “Maybe auto mechanics. Yes...I think
auto mechanics is good.”
“Have you tried to get into some sort of program?”
“No. Not really.” He stopped to take another bite. “You must pay fees.”
“How old are you now, Bernard?”
“Seventeen,” he said cautiously.
“Seventeen.” I nodded, blowing smoke at the ceiling. “You know what that means, don’t you? It means you’re almost
a man. Somebody with responsibilities. To your family. To yourself. What I’m trying to say is, it’s time you decided on
something that interested you. Could be auto mechanics. Could be something else. But whatever it is, you’re gonna
have to set some goals and follow through. Auma and I can help you with school fees, but we can’t live your life for
you. You’ve got to put in some effort. You understand?”
Bernard nodded. “I understand.”
We both sat in silence for a while, watching Bernard’s spoon twirl through the now-liquid mess. I began to imagine
how hollow my words must be sounding to this brother of mine, whose only fault was having been born on the wrong
barré
(Barré)
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