Blackout by Dhonielle Clayton

Author:Dhonielle Clayton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quill Tree Books
Published: 2021-05-25T00:00:00+00:00

The Long Walk

Act 4

Tiffany D. Jackson

Washington Square Park, 8:38 p.m.

WE WALK DOWN Fifth Avenue in silence, Kareem slowing enough so it doesn’t feel like I’m running to keep up with him. The streets are packed with people, all seemingly walking in the same direction as if by instinct. It feels both different and the same being with Kareem again. Or this version of Kareem. This new Kareem talks about his feelings with his dad yet still remembers my favorite ice cream combo. I want to tell him about all the films and shows I’ve watched over the last four months. But it’s not like he’s just coming back from a long vacation. We broke up. Don’t know if those convos are allowed anymore. Is it possible for us to be friends again? Is that what I really want?

We make our way through midtown to Union Square, heading deep into the Village, moving closer to downtown. Closer to . . . the bridge.

“How much longer do you think the power’s gonna be out for?” I ask, not bothering to hide the panic in my voice. “Like, it can’t be all night, right?”

He shrugs, mind elsewhere. “Maybe.”

I start to ask what’s wrong, but that ain’t my place. Or at least I don’t think it is.

“Kareem, I—”

My phone buzzes. An unknown number. Kareem looks over and brightens.

“Oh shit, that’s Twig,” he says and presses speaker. “What’s up!”

“Yo, fam! Where you at?”

“Still in the city, but making moves,” he says, checking the time. “What’s good?”

“Nothing. That’s what’s good. I’m trying to throw the party of the summer and everything’s working against me. Just get your ass here with quickness. Peace!”

Click.

“Okay. He ain’t much for talking.” I laugh.

“That’s Twig for you,” he says, before turning his head. “Hey, you hear that?”

Music. A deep bass from nearby.

He throws me a sly grin and nods ahead. “Yo, let’s check out the park for a second.”

I don’t argue. The more time we waste on detours, the more chances of the power turning back on before it’s too late.

We pass under the large white arch at the entrance of Washington Square Park. When the power is on, this thing is lit up bright white, reminds me of that big famous arch in Paris we learned about in European History. It leads to a massive fountain in the middle of the park, surrounded by benches and patches of grass. This is where all the New York University students and Village folk hang out. Even with the blackout, the place is packed, bands playing music, chess games in the dark, teens skateboarding.

“Ew! I can’t believe people are swimming in that nasty-ass fountain,” I say, watching a white woman sit neck deep in the murky pool.

“You blame them? It’s mad hot out here,” he says, laughing. “Hey, wasn’t NYU your first choice?”

I rub my hands against my dress. “Um, yeah.”

Back when I wanted to stay in the city.

Back when I wanted to still be close to him.

Back when my life and all the things I wanted included him.

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