Rapid Transit Part I

Baba & Victory

“At night I hear her moving around the house. It sounds like she’s marching. Some mornings she comes in my room and flings open the curtains, hissing at me through her teeth before she walks out slamming the door behind her. One morning she sat at the foot of my bed smoking a cigarette, the ashes just, just falling on the carpet. There’s no peace. She’s always shouting and screaming at me. I think she peed on the couch. It smells like urine. She turns on the radio, but the dial, she leaves it stuck in the middle so all I hear is static. All the food tastes like paper. The dog won’t come in the house anymore, and fresh flowers die overnight. I trim them, I drop the, the whatever it is from the little packets into the water, but they’re dead the next day. She tells me that I’m useless. She tells me that it’s her house and that I should just leave, so I do. I’m gone most of the day. I go to the senior centre, to Mr. Khan’s to watch the news or football, soccer, I go to the library and read about spirits, angels, gods, and planes. Sometimes I even go to Garance’s and Lionel’s to see the grandies. I help him with the laundry. We go grocery shopping. I cook for them waakye, okra soup, strike and tilapia, and all the things I made for you and your sisters. Your sister finishes her plate and watches her children eat all the food, then she let’s that man she married do the cleaning and I make sure the grandies get ready for bed, and when I’m done do you know what she does? She sends me packing! She tells me not to be so ridiculous and just sends me home. She doesn’t want to hear about your mother. It’s like she doesn’t believe it.”
“Baba. Baba. How can I… how can I say this? I believe you, and I think that maman is really angry about you and Sister…”
“Don’t speak her name! Don’t City!”
“Okay Baba. Okay, but maman is… she’s finally in a place where she can express herself and her feelings and I think that’s what she’s doing.”
“But why now girl child? Why didn’t she do it, you know… before? How can she still be angry at me?”
“Baba you say that like there’s a time limit on anger, or grief. Maybe that’s what this is. Maybe she’s grieving in a way that she didn’t know how to before. Your maman. When grand-mere and grand-pere died within weeks of each other, and Garance didn’t want to come home for the basketball tournament, maman put her on a plane and said…”
“Life must go on.”
“Life must go on.”
“Yes. That’s your mother. That’s one of the things I liked about her, and one of the reasons I married her. She was stern. Practical. She took charge. I know I hurt her, doing what I did, but I tried City… I tried to be a better, a better husband. I think what really hurt her was that she didn’t expect me to treat her like that. I tried to make things right with her. She liked music. She grew up with a piano, so I bought her a piano. She liked to sew, so I bought her three different machines. She wanted a house with mango and cherry trees, so I built her a house and I had them fly in mango and cherry trees. When she was just a girl she wanted to see the world, so I took everywhere on our anniversaries, on her birthday, on my birthday, and in all the photos she looks at me like there was something that I missed.”
“Things don’t make you happy Baba. You know that.”
“But what could I give her after I had, had gambled away so much?”
“I think she wanted you to apologise…”
“City, I did. I said I was sorry. I said, ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’ I told her, Mirlande, I’m sorry. But she wanted me to get down on my knees every time I missed a call, or came home later than I said I would.”
“And?”
“What do you mean and in that tone with me girl child?”
“Baba. We’ve been through a lot. It’s hard sometimes to really talk to you, like we’re both adults.”
“You may be what you call an adult but you’re still my daughter.”
“I’m not just your daughter. I’m me. I’m a woman who’s had her own experiences, who has a life, who has thoughts, opinions, and sometimes strong feelings, that I keep from you to keep the peace. But keeping the peace isn’t… it doesn’t always feel peaceful and it doesn’t always work because there are things that you’re not good at… there are things that you need to face. You just need to face the music Baba.”
“And what, what music is that City?”
“The effort, all the energy you took in taking her places, and buying her things she can’t be buried with, that’s not what she wanted. I remember watching her the day those trees you bought were planted. You’re right. If you took a picture, if you tried to take a photo of her then she would have looked like something was missing. You had those trees flown in, but you couldn’t get down on your knees, if that’s what she really wanted… I think she wanted to know that you were there for her. You hurt her, and she wanted you to tell her that it wasn’t gonna happen again. You made a grand gesture, big big moves but they weren’t the right ones. You knew what she wanted, maybe what she needed, but maybe… you weren’t willing to do that.”
“No City. No I wasn’t. Your mother was stubborn. She was proud.”
“She was proud?”
“She was. She had to have everything her way, and when it happened… that only made her more stubborn.”
“Baba are you listening to yourself?”
“I’m talking. I hear what I’m saying. I understand. I do.”
“I don’t know if you do Baba. Mama had every reason to be proud before and after you slept with the only friend she had when you moved her and us far away from her friends and family here, I mean there. You know what I mean. Maman studied at the Sorbonne, she graduated from Yale. She’s one of the most talented people I ever met. You know grand-mere and grand-pere, the way people treated them when they came to America…  and maman had to do everything for herself and her brothers. She raised herself and them, while grand mere and grand pere worked all day. What do you mean she was too proud?”
“Girl child I didn’t say too proud. I said proud. She was proud, hard, and stubborn! She thought because I had the, the indiscretion that, well she behaved like that was the worst thing that ever happened to her. Like an excuse for her to be sad for the rest of her life and now she’s punishing me. I never… I never touched another woman again and I never… held your mother again. And now she’s punishing me. She won’t let it go.”
“Why do you think she didn’t let it go? Why do you think she’s letting it out now?”
“Because now that she has nothing but time, she’s realised it. She feels it. And she wants me to know that she hates me. She told me when we met, she said, ‘If you beat me I’ll leave you’. I didn’t hit her. I would have never hit her. Not like the man who married my mother did. I didn’t want to be like him, and maybe I fooled myself. Maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to hear, but I’m just like him. I didn’t have to lay a hand on Mirlande to beat her. I deceived her. I deceived her, lied to her and I threw money at her, but I wasn’t willing to fall on my face as many times as it took. I was stubborn. I was proud. I was hateful. Now it’s too late. I think your mother‘ll be cussing me out in Creole til the day I die. I guess I probably deserve that City.”



Victory & Kira



“Was that your dad?”
“Yeah, did I wake you?”
“No. I woke up on my own. That sounded… tense… not that I was listening.”
“Oh you weren’t? It’s okay.”
“Is he alright?”
“He’s having some problems but, I think for one of the first times, probably ever, I talked to him like we were not equals but something like that. Do you wanna go back? Back to the bed?”
“No. I want to sit here with you.”
“Sit.”
“Fathers are difficult. It’s like a law somewhere. Relationships with them are difficult. They have to be or somewhere, something is… broken.”
“He’s alright. As a father I guess. He was a good dad. He liked to play with us, he was really silly. He used to do things, and sometimes when I think about it, it’s like he was doing these things so we would remember him… we would remember that we did things with him. He was a lot of fun.”
“Play. Hm. My father never had time to do anything, especially play. He only had time for himself after work. He would read the paper in his underwear while my mom would run around serving him when she wasn’t at work. When she wasn’t serving him, me and my sisters were. He still reads his paper. Still in his underwear at my sister Yelena'. His favorite.”
“Yelena.”
“The youngest.”
“She’s the one who used to eat all the food in the kitchen when you weren’t looking.”
“Yes that’s her. That’s Yelena, and I was the one who always got in trouble for it. And now my father lives with Yelena and her rich English husband, and she runs around taking care of him because all of her children are away at school.”
“When was the last time you went to London?”
“Two years ago. We met for lunch. A short lunch. It’s always short. If it’s too long we just ending up fighting.”
“I remember those days.”
“For you it ended. They’re over. For me it will always be the same. Yelena is a bit more… liberal, but she takes my father’s side, and Irina and Tatyana do too. When he’s there, they all support him in his questions about me and what I’m doing here. He asks me every fucking time why I don’t straighten my hair, if I have man somewhere, and how do I feel not being able to have children.”
“What do you say?”
“If it’s just me and him, we go at it. There’s a back and forth, but when the sisters are there, I don’t have a chance. That’s when he’s the most aggressive. He’s like a dog, and they are a part of the pack.”
“Lay down. Right here.”
“Right here? Like this?”
“Yes.”
“What are you doing?”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes. I like when we have the evening and then the whole night together. That’s what I like the best. When I don’t have to go to work. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I watch you.”
“That’s not creepy, not even just a little bit?”
“You’re making a joke but I’m not. You’re so beautiful. You look even more unreal when you’re sleeping.”
“What do you mean unreal? More unreal?”
“You know I love this about your face, your body. Everything looks like it was cut from, from obsidian or something. You sleep like a rock too. So still, so perfect.”
“I wanna say something, something like the kids at school called me giraffe, or coal miner’s daughter… I feel like that’s a reflex that… came from that time. One that I don’t need anymore but still cling to, desperately cos I cannot take a comment. So, merci Kira.”
“When you say my name…”
“What? What happens when I say your name?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Tell me!”
“No.”
“Turn back. Here. Look at me. What? What happens Kira? Kira.”
“Stop it.”
“Kira, Kira, Kira, Kira.”
“Stop it. Stop. Stop. Sto…”
“KIRA. Should I stop?”
“Nnno.”
“What about now Kira?”
“No, but if we keep doing this…”
“What?”
“I can’t be yours. That’s the problem. I can’t be yours.”
“Kira, Kira, Kira, Kira, Kira, Kira.”
“I don’t even recognise my name when you say it. It’s like you’re putting me under a spell.”
“No Kira. This isn’t spell work. It’s choice. It’s your choice. You wanna be here. With me. We’re both choosing this. Right?”
“Say it. Say it…”
“What?”
“You know what.”
“Kirrrrra.”
“You’re right. I choose it now, I’m… I’m… I’m…. I’m choosing it, but I’m so close.”
“I know. I th…”
“Don’t. Because you don’t mean it. Not yet. You’re not ready. It’s okay. I’m not ready neither. Don’t say it until you’re sure. I need you to mean it, to know you mean it when you say it.”
“Alright. I’ll wait.”
“Me too. I’ll wait too, but if it never happens I have this. Somewhere in time I will always be here in this apartment with you. When do we have to leave.”
“It’s seven twelve. We have… two hours. Is that long enough for you? Kira?”

Solomon & Victory



“Is Kira still looking for a job or is she still doing hair?”
“She’s trying to make it work, the hair business.”
“Ha. When you say it that way it sounds like she’s selling hair. Her Insta stories are really… dreamy. They’re really like little films. I admire her. She puts a lot into whatever she does… when it’s for her.”
“Are you still mad about that florist job you got her?”
“Yeah, cos thanks to her I don’t have fuck-a- florist anymore. Thanks Black Russian.”
“Ooh, I’ma tell her you said that.”
“I’m not scared a her. I do feel bad though cos she still thinks I’m really mad. Tell her I’m not.”
“Tell her yourself!”
“Fine, I will! Am I the only one that knows about you and her?”
“I don’t know what I’m doing… I hope so. About you knowing. You being the only one. What am I doing?”
“You’re living. You’re having a good time.”
“I just don’t wanna hurt anyone.”
“Yeah, well that’s the thing about being alive, just being alive means you’re gonna hurt somebody at some point.”
“Said the dentist.”
“Hey, I try to go easy on em.”
“So you can get those stars?”
“Fuck Yelp reviews!”
“In the name of Jehova Jireh.”
“Why Jehova Jireh?”
“You don’t know King Solomon?”
“I forgot?!”
“Jehova Jireh…”
“... oh yeah, my provider!”
“His grace is sufficient for me! For me, for me!”
“His grace is sufficient for me! For me, for me!”
“What about the diner and reviews?”
“We’re good. Sometimes snarky comments from the whites, but mostly people just being pleased with the food, and the service. When are you gonna bring the new guy around?”
“Keith? He’s one of those gays, you know? I can barely keep up with what he eats, what he doesn’t eat.”
“We have raw options, vegetarian. That’s no excuse. You can bring him by.”
“I don’t know…”
“What?”
“He’s… we get along really well but the age gap, the way we see the world… even like, sex…”
“Okay. It’s not there?”
“I don’t know. It’s still new. It’s not that new, but yeah it’s new. What if we just need to…”
“To what? To see how things stay the same but you put more and more into it, expecting things to change.”
“No shade, but I do feel like I’m listening to someone who knows what she’s talking about.”
“First of all that’s not shade… and yeah, I do know what I’m talking about. I’m speaking from experience. If it’s not working, it’s not working. What can you do?”
“I don’t feel like I have that many options.”
“What?! So that’s a reason to stay with someone?”
“Yeah!”
“Since when?”
“Since it’s so difficult to find a Black man who fucks with Black men.”
“Listen. I wasn’t judging you about the whole… ‘advice thing’. I get it. I was just saying...”
“I know. I know. And, I appreciate that it’s not like that. You could judge me… and I wouldn’t be mad about it.”
“I’m not. Just so, so that’s clear.”
“Dating other Black people here, hashtag the struggle is real.”
“Hashtag go tell it on the mountain.”
“Hashtag from the mountain to the prairies, to the valley, errybody already know’t!”
“I can’t date white men anymore. I’m too olt.”
“Then I guess I was born olt.”
“You…”
“Yes…”
“You did date guys right?”
“I had one boyfriend in high school just to shut people up and stay under the radar. One of the things that I thought about when I thought about life after high school was that there were gonna be so many lesbians in college. Ooh how that kept me goin. I just cain’t tell ya!”
“See I wasn’t even thinking about that. I was just like, let me get my Black ass outta Norway. Let me study something so that I can pay my own bills so when they disown me like they did, I can take care of myself, I ain’t gone be out here on these streets chile. These streets?!”
“When you said that just now, it really hit me how hard it was. How hard it musta been for both of us. Gay kids just tryna be kids.”
“We were. We were the lucky ones. The ones who were able to get away.”
“The lucky ones. It doesn’t feel like that when I think about having to have a boyfriend, or when you and Kira tell me about what you two went through with your family.”
“Mmph. I hear you but it coulda been worse.”
“Yeah, but don’t you think that’s… that shows how bad it was. How bad it is. The bar, it’s so low. ‘It coulda been worse’. It’s like we all left ‘home’ whatever that is, wherever that is, and we came here or we ended up here and made this, this place our home.”
“Chosen fam!”
“Chosen fam…”
“I was always gonna leave Norway though. Even if I was straight, my Black ass was gonna leave. But yeah, it’s either leave cos you’re Black or gay or both. And then there’s Harold.”
“Have you talked to him since he left?”
“You know that I have not. I can’t.”
“I know it’s hard I was… not gonna say anything..”
“Honestly can we change the subject?”
“Okay, okay.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t right now.”
“I’m sorry for bringing it up.”
“I think… I think that’s… losing him, that’s the biggest loss, the one that hurts the most.”
“You didn’t lose him. He just moved to the UK.”
“Like I said, I lost him.”

Written by Isaiah Lopaz, Anthology / Appendix 2021