What's My Name?

Y'all Wild

Looking out of the window, I replay scene after dreaded scene. I could feel my blood pressure rising by the minute, and I guess my blood was so loud that my grandma could hear it.

"Got a lot on your mind?"

Yes.

"No...just thinking about college. I still can't believe I got into Harvard."

She slaps me on my shoulder, and a twinge of pain tunnels through my blood. She must be a part of the KKK too.

"That's my baby!" She's smiling now, but when I come up pregnant with a white man's child, she's gonna shit a cow.

"Yeah..." I pause. "I was also thinking about what a friend told me earlier. He told me that he had recently got sexual involved with a teacher, and she might be pregnant with his child."

"What race are they?"

Okay. This is where I can't trip up.

"The teacher is black and the boy is white." Maybe she won't catch on.

She takes a cigarette out of the box and lights it. With the windows rolled completely down, the warm late spring breeze blows the smoke across my face. While I hated being around smokers, the smell was somewhat soothing. I think I should invest in some nicotine patches.

"So this...teacher lady. Have you met her?"

Oh shit. She's about to interrogate the fuck out of me.

"Well, she kinda helps our coach with the Track stuff. I've had a few conversations with her." Which was actually true if you think about it. I'm almost positive that I know myself better than anyone out there.

"I'm gonna ask you one more question, and I need you not lie to me," Wow. Such sentence structure. She turns down the radio and knocks her cigarette against the window. "Does this 'friend' happen to be you?"

I pause. I can't hear anything else but the blood rushing through my ears, and the deafening silence that filled the car. Before I could defend myself, she used Mama JuJu Voodoo on me to make me say the truth.

"Yes."

Her face is passive. There is no emotion. Until she lets out a hearty laugh, proceeded by the dreaded smoker's cough.

"I'm gonna have a grandchild!?" Her smile is the brightest thing I've seen in weeks, and I just saw the sun earlier. Was she okay? "Wow. A mixed baby. That baby will be able to pass as white for a good five years, you know."

Did I have the heart to tell her I'm not pregnant?

"Grandma, I'm not pregnant. We're just...bumping heads as of right now."

Apparently I did have the heart to tell her. Hm. I seem to be an open book tonight.

Her smile doesn't falter, but her demeanor does. Smiling like a pothead hanging out with Snoop Dog, she takes a drag of the cigarette.

"What's so funny? You seem to be taking this news awfully well." I raise my eyebrows in wait of a response. When she doesn't give me one I continue to speak. "This man is no doubt a decade older than me, married, and illegal for me to be with. You should be in hysterics by now."

And like the little Chinese character in every movie that knows way more than the main character, she chuckles quietly, her eyes almost closed. The last part somewhat worried me since she was still driving, but I trusted her enough to keep us alive.

"My princesa. That white man will not be able to keep his hands off you,"

Shit. I opened up a can of worms in the form of a man named Rudy. Mistakes were made.

"Once they get a taste of the gold you hold in between your legs. Lord." She shakes her head, her gaze is distant. She must be reminiscing.

"Once you go black, you never go back." I whisper to myself. May God have mercy on Pimmit and his marriage, because I'm about to subvert the shit out of it.

"Yes ma'am." She shakes my shoulder, the smoke from the cigarette in her hand trailing along with it. "Now don't you get yourself caught up. If anything makes you uncomfortable, you tell him. Plus you're still young; you're going to ruin much more marriages when you get older, trust me."

Wow. My grandma is wild. Who is this lady?

"And it's not illegal if nobody knows about it. Keep your unprofessional relationship professional. No public places, nothing that can distinguish you from anyone else if you send him any pictures, and always remember," She pauses, another mischievous smile planted on her face. "And a white man told me this himself once, 'Never let your girlfriend and your wife meet'. So that means never going to his house, unless somebody has an eye on her at all times. Also, no bras or panties if you're going in for a dick appointment."

Who. Who is this. Who is she. Why does she know so much?

"Lastly," We pull into the parking lot of a newly opened restaurant, the parking lot packed with cars and white people taking their sweet time crossing amongst the cars. At a glance I swear I see a car I recognize, but it was to dark to be for sure. "You can't gag if you hum."

As we step out of the car I shake my head in disbelief.

"Y'all wild."