white-passing- jamal turner

twenty-seven

My mom's dead.

Three words. Something so simple yet so incomprehensible. Monse's mom passed away unexpectedly, and she was at the funeral while the rest of us got ready for the reception. Her mom might've been a shitty person, but it was still her mom. 

Jamal and I called a Lyft and made our way there. And by Lyft, we meant Oscar. Cuchillos was freaking us out, especially Ruby. She was not a patient woman, and every day we didn't have an answer, things would get worse for us. 

So, we asked Oscar if he could talk to her for us.

We got to the reception later than expected, but better late than never.

"You guys don't have to stay," Monse said.

"We're not leaving," Cesar said.

"It's non-negotiable," Jasmine said.

 "We're your friends. We're staying," I said as someone took a small piece of food from Jamal's plate.

"Thank you."

"You're so welcome," Jamal said, "People here are so nice with sharing their food."

I laughed, "Jamal, he thinks you're the help."

Jasmine and I both looked at each other and laughed. 

"You know who doesn't get mistaken for the help?" Jasmine said, "The leader!"

A woman came up to us and gave Jasmine her trash, "Gracias."

Both stood there with their mouths open.

"You were saying?" I said.

___________________________________

We saw Sahar there. She was still the same shallow girl with that annoying accent. While Jamal was talking to her about her skin, I looked over and noticed Rosé was there. We tried texting her in the wake of all this Cuchillos and Ricky stuff, but she never responded. Jamal noticed a second after me because he changed the subject, and we walked back in the house.

"Like what you see?" Rosé said before even looking up.

"No, I just- hi!" 

"Hi!"

 "Hi," she smiled, "How are you two?"

"Good," I said.

"Great. Awesome," Jamal said, "And sad, given the circumstances. You look good. You come back from a trip?"

"Nope."

"Change your number?"

"Step off!" she said, "And you better watch yourself, kid. And if he can't, do it for him, girl."

I threw my hands up, "Well, he has a point. Why didn't you text either of us back?"

"Because I have nothing to say!" Rosé said, "I don't know who this Coochie Chillow person is you keep asking about. And all this Rollerworld shit was a long time ago. I have nothing new to add. Listen. This is not the time, nor place to be dredging up the place, you hear me?"

We both nodded, but neither of us was convinced. Rosé was hiding something, but we had to work it out later. 

"She knows something," Jamal said, raising his eyebrow. 

After the reception, Jamal and I went back to his, and he showed me an audio recording. He was able to get Rosé before she left, and he got her to admit that she wasn't fully sure that Lil Ricky was dead. But that wasn't all, we looked her up and found her album from the 80s. One of her songs was produced by a producer named Father Goose. He produced that new really shitty but oddly catchy song named Lunch Money. I skipped the song until we got to his part.

"Wait, wait!" I said, "Jamal, put the tape on."

He put the tape in the cassette, and the raps and the voices sounded the exact same. 

"Holy shit," I said.

"I found him," Jamal said, "We- we found Lil Ricky!"