“Yeah, Ma told me y’all met at a party and how you were all smooth.”
“That’s how she tells it, because she’s sweet. But here’s the truth. It was a Super Bowl party Aaron and I were throwing at our crappy little apartment over on Lafayette. Now your mother came with her cousin, who was one of our boys. But she didn’t belong there. She was a Catholic girl from the Bronx who had no business with us. But as soon as she walked in, man…I was done. I couldn’t do anything else for the rest of the night. I don’t even think I remember who was playing in the championship. All I was trying to do was figure out a way to spark conversation. But when I tell you I was nervous…I was nervous. The only thing I figured I could do was act like a good host and serve everybody drinks, chips and salsa, and all that.” Miles and his dad stopped at the corner for a second to make sure no cars were coming before they crossed. “Now, first I pour her a drink. Champagne?” Miles’s father pretended to tip a bottle. “She thanked me and gave me a little smile. Then I asked if I could get her some chips and salsa. Hors d’oeuvres? But at the time I said it like this: Or derbs? And she said yes, again, laughing, which is always a good sign. So I go back across the room and grab the whole bowl of salsa. As I’m moving through the crowd, coming right up on Rio, I kick the side of the coffee table and start fumbling the bowl.” He moved his hands around as if he were juggling invisible balls. “See where this is going?”
“You didn’t.”
“All over her.” Miles’s father nodded. They cut across the park. Shortcut. A man was lying down on a bench. Another man stopped midwalk, patting his pockets, checking for something he clearly had forgotten. A crowd of teenagers joked with each other. “A whole bowl of salsa,” Miles’s father confirmed.
“And what did she do?”
“Miles, did you hear me? I said I spilled a wholebowl of salsa on her. She flipped out!” Miles’s father burst into laughter.
“But then…I mean…how y’all end up together?”
“Ah, that’s not important. What’s important is I don’t think we would have if I didn’t spill the salsa.” He put his hands on his head, braided his fingers together. “So, that poem you wrote her, that’s your salsa. You gotta spill it on her, understand?”
“Like, you mean, read it to her?”
“Exactly. Spill the salsa, son.” Miles’s dad’s smile was self-assured, as if he knew this was a fatherly moment. A gem.
They were now on the other end of the park, standing at the steps leading down into the train station. Miles dropped his shoulders. “And what about Uncle Aaron?”
“What about him?” Miles’s father snapped back into seriousness, his body tightening, his eyes lowering.
“I mean, what was his way of getting girls?”
Miles’s father took his hand and swiped across his mouth as if wiping secret words away before they were heard. “Y’know, I don’t really know. But he did it, and he did it a lot.” He bit down on his bottom lip, gave a single head shake. Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper, slapped it in his other palm. “Guess this is as good a time as any,” he said all huffy, handing the paper to Miles.
Miles unfolded it, recognized the pencil. And the capital letters.
DEAR MR. DAVIS
MY NAME IS AUSTIN. I’M FIFTEEN YEARS OLD, AND WRITING TO YOU FROM THE JUVENILE WARD. I GOT YOUR INFO FROM MY GRANDMOTHER. SHE KNEW YOUR NAME, AND I THINK SHE FOUND YOUR ADDRESS ON THE INTERNET. I HOPE YOU DON’T MIND. SHE’D BEEN TELLING ME ABOUT YOU AND SAID THAT I SHOULD REACH OUT TO TRY TO GET TO KNOW THE OTHER HALF OF MY FAMILY. MY FATHER’S NAME WAS AARON, AND IF THIS IS THE RIGHT ADDRESS, THEN YOU ARE AARON’S BROTHER. THAT MAKES YOU MY UNCLE. I’M NOT SURE IF YOU EVER KNEW ABOUT ME, AND MY GRANDMOTHER TOLD ME THAT YOU AND MY FATHER DIDN’T REALLY GET ALONG. SO MAYBE YOU DIDN’T KNOW, OR MAYBE YOU DID BUT WAS TOO MAD TO REACH OUT. I CAN UNDERSTAND THAT. ANYWAY, AS I’M SURE YOU KNOW, MY FATHER IS NO LONGER AROUND AND SO I DON’T KNOW IF THIS IS OVERSTEPPING MY BOUNDARIES, BUT I WOULD LIKE FOR YOU TO MAYBE COME SEE ME. SATURDAYS ARE MY VISITATION DAYS. I DON’T GET ANY VISITORS, AND IT WOULD BE COOL TO SEE FAMILY, EVEN IF WE DON’T KNOW EACH OTHER.
I HOPE YOU GET THIS LETTER.
AUSTIN DAVIS
Miles folded the letter back up and tried to hide his skepticism. Tried to bite his tongue. “Did you know about him?”
“Of course not. I mean, I hadn’t really talked to Aaron in a long time, and whenever I did it was to tell him to stay away from you.”
“So you didn’t even know this kid existed?”
“Not until this past Sunday when I opened the mail.” The paper Miles’s mother was holding when he’d come from the bathroom. The one that snatched the color from her face.
Miles’s mind was reeling, his tongue now unbitten. “Well, I did.”
“You did what?”
“I knew about him.” Miles said. “I mean, not until yesterday. But, he sent me a letter too.”
“To BVA?”
“Yeah.” Miles handed the letter back to his father. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be mad about it. But…yeah.”
“I don’t like this, son.” Miles’s father wagged his head, stuffed the paper back into his pocket, and folded his arms across his chest.
“We have to go see him,” Miles blurted, his insides rattling.
“Absolutely not,” Miles’s dad snapped. “I mean…look, I don’t know. It’s not that simple.”
“Well, what does Ma think?” Miles knew that his mother had a soft spot for kids and hated to see them struggling. And they didn’t have to be family for her to feel for them. She loved Ganke like he was her son. But if Miles’s mom knew that there was even a chance Austin could be related, despite how she felt about Aaron, she would want to connect with him. She’d have to.
Miles’s father blew a hard breath, one that inflated his cheeks. “You know your mother. She thinks I should go see him.”
“Well, then…I mean, that’s it. You gotta go. And I’m going with you.”
“First of all, watch yourself ordering me around, kid,” Miles’s father said, steely. “You still on thin ice, and punishment is not off the table. Just because you feel like you can walk out of work don’t mean you can walk on me. Not to mention you withholding the truth.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Miles adjusted his tone. “But…well…since we’re being honest about stuff, you should also know I wrote him back.”
“You did what?” Miles’s father gripped the top of his own head as if trying to rip it off his neck.
“I had to. I mean, it was like I couldn’t help it. I just…did it. Dropped it in the mail this morning.”
Miles’s father turned away from Miles, then turned back to him and stared into the sky as if searching for the answer in the half-clouded moon. “Look, I don’t know if any of this is a good idea, Miles. I mean, we don’t even know this kid.”
“That’s why we gotta go and meet him.”
“We don’t even know if he’s telling the truth.”