After Life

Pieces of Silver...

MICHAEL-JOHNSON NEWMAN

My heart beats wildly against my chest.

An ear-splitting chorus of "surprise!" roars from the hallways of my home, no doubt jolting the entire community out of its usual slumber, yet, even as I meet the face-wide grins of mom and Francie, and can feel Sophie's warm hand against mine, and can see the strained face of a stranger and Detective Douglas, the usually infectious display of excitement falls flat against my stoned countenance. Instead, anger – on the brink of rage, simmers where my excitement should have been, as the cold hands of an old friend snake their way around me into a hug.

"My brother!" Quan exclaims. His words pour into my ears like hell-heated oil, melting away my feelings of betrayal – and something that feels like fear – into an all-consuming fury. I stand unmoved in Sophie's shower of confetti, fists clenched amidst the excitement, ready to rip this serpent's head off, but a stinging, burning pain in my palms, and the decrescendo in the voices around me, quickly force my lips apart into a smile. All gazes are intently locked onto the spectacle of me and Quan.

Though the hug broke in less than three seconds, it may have lasted long enough for them to notice Quan's sly, dead-eyed grin as he pulled from me. They may even have noticed my flicker of a grimace when I unclenched my fists, freeing my burning palms from nails that had burrowed too deep into them.

But, they noticed none of it, not even the detective. The woman with the thick lenses couldn't have seen any of it, even if she tried to on our dimly lit veranda. Mom and Francie seem on the brink of tears watching Quan and I's reunion, and Sophie is busy attempting to sweep away the mess of confetti. Mom chides her for it, reminding her that guests are not to work, and playfully tugs her from the veranda and into the hall.

Quan is the only one left within arm's reach.

Looking no different than he did earlier today, his medium built figure extends an arm to me that is followed by a furtive smile. If I am right about him, under the spotlight of everyone's gaze, I am being toyed with. If I am wrong about him, then I am most certainly being mocked.

I reach for his hand with enough force to squeeze blood from my self-inflicted wounds. His eyes bulged when I marbled his fingers together, squishing breakable bones against each other. Upon releasing them, I finally speak to him.

"What's up... bro? Long time mi nuh see yuh," I tell him.

I've gotten more hugs from mom and Francie in the last 10 minutes than I have from them all week. And that's saying a lot because I've had to make a game out of dodging them. Now, as this unlikely bunch – and Quan, settle into the black chairs around mom's seldom used dinner table, my family's kindness does little to distract me from the irony of my suspicions about Quan and the unexpected presence of the person who can do something about them – Detective Douglas. He's twice attempted to talk to me privately, and twice were those attempts squashed by mom's insistence to "leave all a dat till later."

"This is definitely an ambush I hadn't the slightest clue about," I say, my words directly aimed at Quan. Though he smiles knowingly, scattered laughter from the others fills the small dining space with more than the dominating, sweet garlicky smell of mom's cooking. "I appreciate you being here, friends new and old, and I am especially grateful to my family. Thank you."

Everyone raises their glasses with a nod.

Sophie whispers beneath her breath to me and takes a mouthful of some alcoholic beverage.

"Water, detective? Really? On your day-off?" mom takes aim at Douglas who has avoided – no, restrained himself from drinking any of her signature rum punch. That must be what Sophie is having.