Page 32 of Butterfly 6, Phase 1

“No, but they tease me a lot,” Eazy stated.

“You know how to fight, Big Man. I’ve taught you. Let me see them dukes,” Ethic said. Eazy put his fists up, and Ethic threw a few light jabs. Eazy’s body moved in a defensive motion, off instinct alone.

“You know how to defend yourself. As long as they don’t touch you…”

“But the words hurt, Dad. They called me soft because I cried when my friend, DJ, died,” Eazy replied. “I don’t want to hit anybody, but it makes me mad.”

Alani’s face melted in care. “Aww, Eazy, baby, you don’t have to hit anyone. You never have to be violent. That’s not who you are. Those kids are assholes. Raggedy-ass, mean-ass kids,” she fussed. “Being loving and caring about other people does not make you soft. Fuck those bad-ass kids. You are loved, so you are loving. Every kid isn’t lucky to be raised like that, so they’re mean and angry. Don’t ever be ashamed of having a good heart. That doesn’t make you soft. That makes you a good person. And I’m so sorry about your friend, Eazy. That is a reason to cry.”

“The best men know how to show emotion, Big Man. Never be ashamed of that,” Ethic said.

“Did you tell Uncle Ny these kids are hurting your feelings?” Alani asked. She looked at Ethic in distress, her heart aching at the notion that someone was teasing her sweet boy.

Eazy shook his head. “No, I didn’t want to be a snitch.”

“Don’t worry about it, Big Man. I’ll be there,” Ethic said. “Some of those other boys probably feel the same way you feel. I got you, man. Daddy gon’ handle it.”

“But what about Yolly?” Eazy asked.

“I’ll be there for her too,” Ethic stated. Eazy tried to wipe his eyes, but Ethic cleared the tears for his son instead. “I’ma take care of everybody. It’s okay. You go to the bathroom, you take your moment, and you feel what you need to feel. Then, you take a deep breath, and you come out confident that everything is going to be okay. Daddy got you, a’ight?”

Eazy nodded his head. “I’m trying to be gangster like you.”

Eazy delivered a blow so harsh that Ethic had to bow his head for a second to clear his own emotion. His friends weren’t wrong. He knew what he was, but admitting that to his son felt like the ultimate sin because he wanted Eazy to be everything except a gangster. A scientist or an artist. A doctor or lawyer. A gamer or an architect. He wanted Eazy to dream the dreams that were too big to even manifest in his own mind as a child. Ethic was balancing Ezra, the father, versus Ethic, the gangster. The pressure to be omnipresent was crippling. It was he who wanted to cry because the roof of his home seemed to be on fire, and those he loved were spread out on different floors, behind the locked doors of rooms he couldn’t seem to get to fast enough. Who did he save first? Who did he protect, and in what order? Morgan? Yolly? Eazy? Alani? Bella? True? Even Nannie needed his attention. He was a Black man overwhelmed, but there was no ear to bend about his problems. There was no help for him to go seek. He was all he had and all they had, too.

“Where’d you hear that? Who called me that?” Ethic asked.

“That’s what they call you on Susan Street,” Eazy revealed.

“That’s not a good thing, Eazy. I’ll never lie to you about who I am. I’ve done some bad things. Some violent things. I wasn’t as blessed as you as a kid. I didn’t have a lot, so I stole, I robbed, I hustled, I bullied to survive. Some people may think that’s gangster. I call it sad. When I got older, I realized that my actions were wrong and that there isn’t a reason good enough to justify moving like a gangster. So, I raised you better. I gave you everything I didn’t have so that you wouldn’t have to be gangster. Gangsters end up in jail, Eazy. They end up dead. You’re not that, and you’ll never be that. You’re better than me. I’ll be at your parent meeting today. You won’t have a problem out of any of those boys after today. That’s my word. Give Daddy a hug, man,” Ethic said, pulling Eazy in tightly and palming the back of his head. “Calling me a gangster,” Ethic mumbled. He had never been more disappointed in himself. There was something about his son holding up a mirror to his face, speaking of his sins in admiration, that made Ethic feel like a failure. He wished he could be as emotionally in tune as Eazy. He wished he could feel as safe. It would have been an honor to be as protected as Eazy. Eazy was a little Black boy who was free to dream, free to grow without pretenses, free to subscribe to whatever identity he chose, instead of his environment strapping him up with bravado, a gun, and rage before he was even old enough to grow hair on his chest. “You’re not a gangster, son. You’ll never be a gangster. As long as I live.” He kissed Eazy’s cheek and hugged him repeatedly, then he stood to his feet.

“Come on, Eazy, let’s go inside and get some cake, and then I’ll help you pick out your suit. Nannie showed me how to take measurements. I can do that for you,” Bella said. “Daddy has to go.”

“I can probably help with that. I sew pretty good,” Mara added as she ushered the kids inside while nodding at Ethic and Alani supportively.

Alani reached out to grip Ethic’s forearm, steadying herself, and reached up for Ethic’s face. She could feel the sorrow all over him.

“Come,” she consoled, pulling him to her face. His command on her lips. The memories of the heart weren’t so easily lost. He stepped into her space, wrapping her inside of his body. Nose to nose, forehead to forehead, she loved on him. Even at her weakest state, she was attempting to be his strength.

“Why this parenting shit so hard?” he asked. “It hurts me different, weakens me every time.”

“You’re so good at it, though. They adore you,” Alani whispered. “I’m sorry that hurt you. You’re a man that other men can only pretend to be. And I know you must have your regrets about how you came to stand in your shoes, in this castle, on this day. Every king has war stories because he earns his respect in blood, in battle. You’re a different kind of king, baby. You may not want Eazy to know, but whatever you’ve had to be to get where you are was necessary, and there’s no shame in that. You are a gangster.”

“You don’t even remember, Lenika, but you talking good,” Ethic whispered back as a reluctant smile broke through his somber. He was here for the ego stroke. Shit felt damned good. Alani knew how to make a man feel valuable, needed. She hadn’t forgotten that.

“I ain’t got to remember what’s in front of me. I can see it,” she replied. “Hurry back to me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ethic said. He scooped her off her feet swiftly, and she reveled in the masculinity of his hold as he carried her back inside.

“You stay off your feet,” Ethic said. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

Chapter 10

“Stranger In My House” by Tamia

Alani didn’t know why her heart cracked when he walked out the door. It felt like a permanent goodbye, like he was leaving her in a strange land she didn’t know how to navigate. This house intimidated her. She watched him leave and then reluctantly sat at the table Mara had prepared.

Alani grabbed the fork. “Thank you for this,” she begrudged. She was polite despite hating the fact that Mara had taken over her kitchen. “Wow, this is pretty good,” she admitted begrudgingly.