Birth of a Dark Nation by Rashid Darden Read Free Book Online

good, right?" he said
earnestly.
    "Whatever," I said. I didn't truly believe
him.
    "Seriously." He slapped me on the back and
prodded me into dancing again.
    Did I mention it was hot? We walked and we
marched and we danced and we walked and we marched and we ran (when
there was an unforeseen gap in the parade) and we danced some more.
I swear I sweated off ten pounds that day.
    We finally ended up at Banneker Field, across
from Howard University, for the big Caribbean festival after the
parade was over. I was exhausted and hungry, yet Dante seemed to
have even more energy. We got some Jamaican patties and ate them on
the bleachers.
    "Aren't these supposed to have beef? Where's
the beef?" I asked.
    "Oh, I got vegetable. You know I don't eat
meat, right?"
    "Yeah, I noticed. But I like beef
though! I guess I'll live though." I smiled.
    "You having fun?" he asked me, as we watched
the revelers dance in front of the big stage and continued to bake
in the sun hours later.
    "Yeah, I am," I said through a still-red
smile on my face. "I kind of want to go home and shower,
though."
    "Yeah, me too," he said. We had spent hours
on the parade route and just kicking it at the festival but I
didn't really want the day to end.
    "Hey… Why don't we go to my place?"
    "But I'm still all red and sticky," he said.
His dark brown eyes gleamed in the sun as he spoke.
    "You can shower there," I said.
    "Word?"
    "Yeah man, you shouldn't have to catch the
bus all the way across town like that."
    "We gotta catch the bus to Kennedy," he
countered.
    "Well, I was just offering," I said. "And you
haven't seen my place yet."
    "You inviting me over?"
    "Yeah."
    "You sure?"
    "Yes! See, now you actin' silly." I stood up
and began walking to the trashcans and the exit.
    "You comin'?" I asked. He stood up and
followed me off the field.
    As the parade had been long over, Georgia
Avenue was now open to traffic again. We waited about ten minutes
before one of the big 70-route buses came up the street. We paid
our fare, but only after the driver told us we "bet not" sit down
in his seats. We stood up for the ten-minute ride up the street,
laughing the whole way.
    Soon, we were at Kennedy Street. I thanked
the driver and we started walking the few blocks back to my
apartment. There were no rustles in the bushes this time around. I
couldn't believe I had been so frightened of nothing on the nights
I'd had my panic attacks.
    I noticed at this point that Dante and I very
rarely made small talk. When we did have conversations, they were
thorough. Robust. But when there was down time, we sort of
just…looked at each other. Sometimes, I smiled. Sometimes, he
shrugged. Most times, there was just this sense of peace. It was
only in that moment that I found it to be strange. To be around
someone so often and to say so little, but to feel so at ease, was
a new feeling for me, indeed.
    "You good?" he asked, as though he read my
thoughts in that instant.
    "I'm good. My apartment building is on the
next corner. The big yellow one."
    Kennedy Street was similar to Rhode Island
Avenue, with its liquor stores and beauty salons, but my street
also had more residential properties. One side of my street had
Mexican and Ethiopian restaurants with a row of five houses in
between them. My side of the street had two big yellow brick
buildings. They were three story apartments, each with around
twelve units. The buildings were on opposite corners of the block
and an unbroken row of two story houses filled out the space
between them.
    "This is it," I said. I took my keys from my
pocket and unlocked the front door. There was no security system in
this old building, just a Plexiglas door in a metal frame. I walked
up the stairs to the third floor and Dante followed me.
    "This is an old building," he said, as he
looked around the hallway. We had a black and white tiled floor and
institutional-looking blue walls that seemed to come straight from
a 1940s-era hospital.
    "Yeah, it is. We don't even