“What?” Miles backed away a bit.
“That’s what he always says in the dream. ‘You’re just like me.’”
“Time!” the guard yelled out.
Miles and his father stood up. Miles, jumpy from what he’d just heard, almost extended his hand for a five but remembered contact wasn’t allowed.
“Ah. I feel like we were just getting to know each other. Well, if y’all don’t come back, it’s cool. Thanks for at least coming this time,” Austin said, unable to hide his disappointment.
“Wait, one last question,” Miles said.
“We have to go.” His father tapped him on the arm.
“I know, but this will be quick. What do all the other guys in here turn into in your dreams?”
Miles’s father turned around to let the guard know that they’d heard her. All of Brooklyn had heard her.
Austin looked puzzled by the question. “I don’t know, white cats and crazy stuff like that.”
“White cats?” Miles repeated, as his father, now gripping his arm, turned him around.
“Yeah, why?”
“We’ll…um…come back to see you,” Miles’s father struggled to get out, cutting the conversation before they were barked at again by the guard. “We will.” And as they walked across the room, Miles turned to eyeball the officer coming to escort Austin back to his cell. His badge glinted under the fluorescent light. His name tag wasn’t big enough for most people to see from where they were, but Miles could see it clearly. CHAMBERLAIN.
Miles glanced over at his father every few minutes on the car ride home. His dad’s eyes were focused on the road, but there were lines like canals that dug into his forehead. Miles hoped his father wasn’t thinking about the whole white cat thing, because there was no way Miles could explain it all yet. He didn’t really understand it all himself. There was so much on Miles’s mind that he felt physically heavy, as if the bones in his body were suddenly denser. White cats, and his teacher, and the nightmares he had been having about his uncle. His uncle. The sneakers that were always in his uncle’s house made more sense now.
“So…” Miles’s father said, the wrinkles in his head relaxing as they finally pulled up in front of their house. He put the car in park. “That was…interesting.”
“Yeah,” Miles said, not sure what else to say about it all.
“I just…I never knew. I know that when you make decisions you have to live with them, y’know, but I never thought about why he may have been doing some of the things he did. Or even what bumped him off the track, even though I was there when it happened. I just wish I would’ve reached out to him. Maybe tried to figure out a way to help him out. Shoot, I might’ve even been able to get him a job,” Miles’s father said. “But I thought he was still dirty. Like, I always thought he just couldn’t help himself. Or…didn’t want to. Like he’d ruined his name to the point of no return, and all I wanted was to be left alone.”
All we ask is to be let alone. The Jefferson Davis quote from class flashed across Miles’s mind like a lightning bolt to the brain. Miles looked at his father, could see the struggle in his eyes, could hear the lump moving in his throat. “There’s always more to the story, right? I mean, a name, whether good or bad, is almost never just a name. There’s always something behind it. Something more to it.”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right,” his father said. “Maybe next weekend we can pop back in there, check him out, if you’re up to it. After your job, of course.” A proud smile appeared on Miles’s father’s face. “Plus, you know your mother’s gonna want to meet him.”
They climbed out of the car and made their way upstairs. When Miles opened the door, Ganke and Miles’s mom were sitting on the couch watching an all-Spanish-speaking television channel.
“Wait, Mrs. M. What did she just say?” Ganke asked. Miles’s mother was sitting on the couch next to him, plucking grapes from a plastic bag.
“She said she loves him.”
“But you said she said she loved him a few seconds ago.”
“Because she did, Ganke.”
“Hmm. Okay, well what’s he saying?”
“He’s saying he’s dying.”
“Um…hello?” Miles said.
“Hey, Miles,” Ganke threw over his shoulder.
“Ay, mijo, you look like my son again,” Miles’s mother teased. Miles’s father bent over the couch and kissed her on the top of her head. “How was…everything?”
“In one day our son has been to jail and got a job,” Miles’s father quipped.
“I didn’t know you were coming over here this early, man,” Miles said to Ganke, ignoring his parents. He sat on the arm of the sofa.
“Neither did I,” Miles’s father said.
“Me either, but you better be glad you aren’t on punishment or I would’ve had to send him all the way back home.”
That was the first time since he’d been home that Miles knew for sure he wasn’t on punishment. He crushed his smile between his jaws, but inside, he was so, so happy. No more ramen noodles for him.
“Of course I was coming over.” Ganke kept one eye and one ear on the television. “We’ve got work to do.”
“Work?” Miles asked.
“Work?” his mother echoed before being sucked back into the TV love affair.
“Halloween costumes and stuff like that,” Ganke nudged, bouncing his brows.
“Yeah, Halloween costumes. For the party. At the school,” Miles added, not nearly as smoothly.
“Are you trying to ask me something, Miles Morales?” his mother said. His father blew a raspberry.
“You didn’t ask them?” Ganke squealed.
“Um…Ma, tonight’s the school Halloween party.” Miles showed his teeth. “And Ganke’s going.”
Miles’s father blew another raspberry. “Boy, just say you wanna go!”
Miles’s mother rotated back and forth between soap opera and son, pausing on Miles.
“Ma, can I please go?”
“Is the girl going to be there?”
“Ma.”
“What? I’m just asking!” She turned to Ganke. “Is she, Ganke?”
“I think so,” Ganke replied, that devilish look in his eye.
“Uh-huh. Well, I guess you can go,” she said, smirking, and turned back to the TV.
In Miles’s room, Ganke collapsed on Miles’s bed, while Miles took the floor.
“So, you made it through the dinner, I see.”
“Yeah. It wasn’t too bad. Like I put in the text, there was no crying. But that’s because we decided to eat while watching one of those crime shows where it’s like a real case but they haven’t solved it yet. Cops found out this dude’s wife had him ground up in one of those tree grinders. It was gross. But…entertaining.”
“Wow.”
“Right,” Ganke said. “What about you? How was meeting your cousin? Uh…cousin, right?”
“Yeah, cousin. It was weird, man. But good. He looks just like me, which was a trip. We didn’t get a lot of time to talk because my dad was hogging most of the questions, but the one thing I found out is that he’s been having the same nightmares as me. Oh, and the crazy, crazy thing was that the guard monitoring him was named Chamberlain. It was on his badge.”