Beautiful Music by Michael Zadoorian

Author:Michael Zadoorian
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Akashic Books
Published: 2018-04-19T04:00:00+00:00

Talking to Television

Mini race riot on Friday. Just a little skirmish out on the lawn of the school at the end of fourth period. I'm standing at the window in speech class with some other kids, watching from the second floor. There are a couple of white guys swinging at a couple of black guys, not much actual fighting going on, with some other kids, black and white, running around like they're going to kick each others' butts. I can't tell who's winning. I'm just glad I'm not down there.

"Oh dear. This is not good," says Ms. Floyd, joining us at the window for a moment. She then rushes out of the room, her platforms clonking fast against the linoleum.

It's hard to guess what starts them. Every so often, something just happens. Someone says something, bumps into someone, and before you know it—mini race riot. Generally, everyone gets along—kind of together, but kind of separately. The black kids hang out with each other and mostly sit together in class. Sometimes you'll see a white kid walking down the hall with a bunch of black kids, yet it's rare. Even when those black kids at the bus stop were mean to me, I didn't like it, but they were just being jerks. Usually, the black kids leave me alone. I'll tell you one thing: they never call me narc.

When I get home, I don't tell Mom about the mini race riot because it will just get her all worked up. This still happens most nights when she watches the eleven o'clock news. Everything that Bill Bonds says gets her so riled that she just ends up yelling at the television, cursing the new mayor, saying, We're moving the hell out of this goddamn city, Danny, before they burn it down again. She acts like I'm there next to her, even though I'm usually locked up in my room by this time.

Before my father died, they would both sit in front of the television talking to it, griping about what they thought was happening to Detroit. It was mostly my mother, but to be fair, it was my dad too. If I was still awake, I would just turn up the radio in my room. I didn't like it when they talked that way, though I kind of understood why they were scared. After the riot, no one knew what was going to happen, only that things were changing. Everyone was so afraid black people were going to move into our neighborhood. That was the worst thing that could happen. Now black people are moving into our neighborhood, and it doesn't seem to be making a difference. Except for all the white people moving away.

I will say this for my mom (and Dad when he was alive): I never saw either of them ever be mean or rude to anyone, black or white. I'd seen my dad with black co-workers when he would take me to the graphic arts department on the Saturdays he worked and he was courteous and friendly, like always.

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