The Color Line Chapter 15:
Borough Check
Dallas' eyes widen. He hadn't heard that nickname…in years.
"Wh-what did you just say…?"
"Ice. Dude, it's me, Marco. Harlem?"
"Holy shit. It is you!" Dallas sits down.
"How did you…"
"Delilah found your name in the phone book. We moving down to Tulsa in a couple of months. Helps to know a few people."
"How you been? How's Ricky and them?"
"I've been good. We've been good. We got so much shit to tell you, man. Harlem's changed. White folks comin' in and raisin' the rent too damn high. Tulsa is dirt cheap, from what I heard."
"It depends on where you go."
"Let me get the phone, damn! Hey, Dallas!" Delilah's shrill voice screams into Dallas' ear. Dallas laughs.
"Hey, Delilah. How's my favorite girl?" Dallas asks.
"Amazing, Dal! I got so much to tell you—"
"-Who dat is? Is that Dal? Dallas! My man!" Ricky exclaims over the phone.
"Y'all have no clue how good it feels to hear y'all voices, man. It's been so long." Dallas says.
"Too goddamn long. We would've came down sooner, but…life." Delilah replies.
"We comin' down to see you in March. Mail us the address."
"I will. You know the day?"
"We won't know. We drivin'." Marco said.
"Y'all gon' drive…all the way from Harlem, to here?" Dallas asked.
"Yeah. Ricky is in a band. They offered to take us there for a gig they doin' out there." Delilah answered.
"Ricky's in a band?" Dallas asked, "What instrument he play? The tambourine?"
"Shut yo' ass up, Dal. I don't wanna hear nothing from the boy that tried to sing and broke a window." Ricky fired back.
"First of all, that was Gregory and his baseball. I can sing." Dallas said.
"Barely!" Marco, Ricky, and Delilah shouted in unison before bursting into laughter.
"Y'all love talking shit. Fuck y'all." Dallas said.
"We sayin' it because we love you." Delilah replied.
"We leaving right now. Ricky got done packing the rest of the equipment into the van. He got a gig in California and we gotta be there. We'll see you soon."
"California? Y'all livin' the dream!"
"Like Delilah said, we got so much to tell you." Marco chuckles.
"Bye, Dal! We'll send you postcards, now!" Delilah exclaimed.
"Bye. Love y'all." Dallas answered. He hangs up after.
He lies in the couch, ruminating over the conversation.
"California," he says with a sigh.
"Fucking California."
March couldn't come fast enough.
Dallas had just cracked open his beer when he heard a knock on the door.
"Get it, son! I gotta get ready for my date with Jolene!" Dallas' father shouts from the shower. Rolling his eyes, he opens the door.
He's greeted with a light-skinned black woman with a halo of light brown curls fluffed out with flowers sticking out in every direction, wearing flowing clothes to hide her swelling belly. He sees the dotted freckles and those dark green eyes and he almost fell to his knees.
Without warning, he embraces her, burying his face into her neck, letting the tears fall. He pulls away, not even caring her flower necklace is stuck to his leather jacket.
"Long time no see, white boy." Delilah says with a toothy grin.
"Hey! What about us?" A voice calls. It's a tall dark-skinned man built like he played football with Darry, baring his muscular chest in a fringed vest and velvet bell-bottom jeans and boots. His afro extends to thick sideburns that stop at his cheeks, a feather earring dangling from his ear. He puts down his guitar and steps to Dallas.
"Come on, man. Come here." He pulls Dallas into a tight hug around his shoulders.
"Don't forget me."
A medium-build man with copper skin and long ringlet curls leans against a van. He wears a black t-shirt with jeans and boots. He wears brightly-colored shades, thick sideburns that extends to a moustache and beard. He crosses his arms, the glint of a wedding ring caught from the sun. He pushes himself off the van and struts toward Dallas with a friendly smile.
He hugged him the tightest, patting his back with heavy-handed pats.
All three embrace Dallas in a group hug, embracing him in warmth.
"We've missed you, brother." Ricky says.
"So, what you been up to?"
Dallas looks up from his cup. Delilah stares back at him, his hand enveloped by her small ones. She smiles, urging him to answer her question.
They're in Ricky's band's van, drinking herbal tea and inhaling the thick smoke of marijuana from the joint Marco made. Ricky is tuning his guitar while Marco is arguing with a bandmate about finances in the front seats. Delilah sits cross-legged from Dallas, her pregnant belly poking through her clothes. Dallas keeps focusing on her belly, feeling slight disappointment but can't pinpoint why.
"Dallas?" Delilah asks.
"Oh! Uh…I've been…up to the same ol', same ol'. I work at some construction site miles from here. I work, come home, have a beer, then go to sleep to do it all over again. Not much." Dallas answers. His cheeks burn from embarrassment.
"Well, I've went to college for a while, dropped out. Got married-" Delilah brandishes her modest wedding ring, "—and expecting. I think it's a girl. She's so excited to come out she's been kicking up a storm!" she laughs.
"Married, huh?" Dallas asks.
"Who's the lucky guy?"
Delilah giggles.
"Marco. We've known each other for so long and been through so much, and, well, we fell in love. Life is funny, sometimes."
"Marco?" Dallas repeats in disbelief, not believing his ears. Delilah is like a little sister; hearing her with Marco…feels strange.
"Ricky had a fit about it when he found out. You shoulda seen him. He was ready to fight him out on the street!" Delilah laughed.
"But eventually, he got over it. Marco treats me nice, if you wondering. I've never been happier. He's so excited for the baby; he wants to call it Marco Jr. if it's a boy. I'm going to call her Willow." She lifts her shirt. She guides Dallas' hand to touch.
"She's kicking. You feel it?"
A fluttering sensation presses against Dallas' hand and he jolts his hand away.
"Don't be scared, Dal. She don't mean no harm. I think she likes you and wants to meet you." Delilah chuckles. She guides his hand back and presses deeper. The fluttering stops, and Dallas could swear he feels a tiny hand touch his palm.
He lets out a shuddering breath he didn't know he kept in.
"She's happy." Delilah whispers. Without thinking, Dallas' hand moves around her swollen belly in soft strokes. He pulls his hand away, turning his head away. Silently, he makes his way out the van and into his home.
Delilah is with Marco.
Delilah married Marco.
Delilah is carrying Marco's child.
He feels rage built in his chest but he suppresses it.
He has to be happy for her. There's no reason for him to be angry. She's like a baby sister, he wants the best for her.
So why does the voice inside his head hiss, "That should've been your baby."?