To Be a Man

Danny woke up in love with the day. He loved the way the sun slanted through his window, coloring the floor a dusty yellow and warming the air around him. He loved the tingling sensation in his muscles when he stretched his arms over his head. He loved the way his new shoes felt on his feet when he ran down the stairs to where his papa stood waiting.

Papa was a big, hard-working man, who usually wasn’t home in the mornings. But that day, he ruffled Danny’s brown hair before holding his head still, a strong hand on each cheek, and planting a firm kiss on his forehead. Danny loved days when Papa was happy.

“Happy Birthday, Danny,” he said with a small smile, excitement glowing behind his cold, blue eyes. “Are we all ready?”

“Yes!” Danny said with feeling. Papa had been talking about his surprise for as long as Danny could remember, and it was finally time.

He was lead to the kitchen, where a large plate of the chocolate chip pancakes he loved sat atop the white-laced table cloth, heaped high and dripping with maple syrup. His mama stood beside his chair, holding an apple carefully in her hands, stroking the deep red skin with her thumb.

“Eat good.” Papa said, clapping him on the shoulder before leaving the kitchen.

Danny strode up and took his seat like he imagined a king would take his throne, smiling up grandly at his mama. He loved her most of all. “Mama, I’m ten today!” he informed her, flashing all ten of his wiggling fingers before grabbing his fork and knife and digging into his pancakes.

“Yes.” His mother answered simply, standing rigidly over his shoulder, steadily stroking the apple. Mama had a petite figure and a face with the potential of being beautiful. But that morning, Danny realized that lines disrupted the smoothness of her skin and creased her small forehead. They contorted her features. Mama’s eyes were red-rimmed from salty tears, her hair frazzled from a sleepless night. She watched carefully as her son devoured his breakfast, wincing each time his knife slashed another piece apart.

“Papa’s taking me out this morning,” Danny sang, a slow, syrupy grin spreading across his face. He was so excited that he couldn’t help talking with his mouth full, though Mama usually wouldn’t stand for such manners. “Maybe out to that big ol’ city, seeing as I’m ten now. Just like he did Justin, Mama! I’m gonna get my surprise today.”

The sudden sound of his mother’s sobs caused Danny’s fork to drop with a clatter. He spun in his chair, stunned as he watched her drop down to her knees in front of him, grasping his own knees tightly. He was very silent for a few seconds, trying to think of something to do. Something proper. He finally decided on bringing a small hand to her brown hair, attempting to sooth her like she did when he had nightmares about the monsters in his head.

“Mama,” he said nervously, patting her shaky shoulders. “Mama, you said we don’t play on the floor. You’re gonna get dirt on your dress.”

A small, hysterical chuckle escaped her lips as she lifted her tear-streaked face. Mama’s slim, shaky fingers brushed underneath Danny’s eyes, dancing across his cheekbones. “My boy,” she whispered, shaking her head. “My poor, innocent-”

“Caroline.”

Danny jumped and looked back at his papa, who stared hard past him at Mama. She was silent all at once, and for a few moments she sat in her silence, looking at the ground like she forgot how she got there.

Papa let out a frustrated little breath and started to walk towards her, but Mama scrambled up and away from Danny, pushing herself back against a wall and grabbing onto the end of her apron, ringing it in her hands.

“Mama?”

“Say goodbye to your mama.” Papa said, bending down and grabbing her apple from the table, wiping it roughly across his shirt.

Danny just stared at her trying to make herself small in the corner for a minute before scooting off the kitchen chair. More than anything, he wanted to run and hug his mama and tell her funny stories to scare away the monsters in her head. But he was ten now, and Papa was waiting on him by the door.

“Say goodbye, boy!”

Danny tried, but the word didn’t fit quite right in his mouth. It tasted bitter on his tongue. “We’ll be back soon,” he said instead, backing slowly towards the door. “Hear me, Mama? I’ll be back.”

She didn’t say anything, but as Danny looked back while following Papa out the door, he saw Mama with a tight hand over her mouth, shaking her head, with silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Don’t pay no mind to your mama now,” Papa said, taking a large bite out of Mama’s apple. “She’s just upset her lil’ boy’s growing up. But we know better, don’t we?” Another crunch from Papa. Juice splattered his face and dripped off his chin. “Every boy has gotta become a man one day.”

Danny nodded, and some of his previous excitement returned as he tried to match Papa’s strides.

“I’m a man today, huh Papa?”

“Not quite yet.”

A frown pulled at Danny’s lips. He smashed his fist into his palm with passion, staring straight down the road, remembering what Papa told him about being a man. “When I’m grown, I’m gonna be the greatest man there is. I’m gonna be strong like you, Papa. And I’m gonna have a wife, kind as Mama. And I’m gonna work hard and – and take care of you when you’re stuck in a rocker and can’t do nothin for yourself.”

“That’s right. That’s a lot of work, ain’t it?

“Yeah,” Danny sighed, but he quickly shook his head. “But I can do it! I can do it just like you.”

Papa stopped walking then and got down on his knee, placing a calloused hand on Danny’s small shoulder. “That’s right, boy. You’re gonna be a man today. Just like your brother.” He twisted his hand hard, spinning Danny towards a skinny little tree off the side of the empty dirt road. “Just like me.”

Against the tree, there was a little black boy, his head hanging so that his chin was resting on his chest. He was all skin and bones, with a worn brown shirt on and cut up trousers. He didn’t have nice new shoes like Danny. He didn’t have shoes at all.

The boy’s arms were bent around the tree’s trunk, his hands disappearing somewhere behind. Danny stared.

“Is he…” He choked down warm spit with difficulty. “He’s dead?”

“No.” Danny let out a large breath. “Not yet.”

With that, Papa pulled a knife out of his pocket. It reflected the sunlight into Danny’s eyes, and he lifted a hand to shield them. But Papa grabbed it and slapped the cold handle of the blade into Danny’s palm.

“You wanna be a man?” Papa spat, shoving Danny towards the boy. He stumbled, staring in terror at the boy on the tree. “Ain’t no need to be think about it. ‘Jus a little negro boy.”

Danny stood stone still, the weight of the knife too much for him. Suddenly, he didn’t want to be ten at all. He stared at the way the boy’s head just hung there. Hung there like Mama’s head did when Papa was around. “Papa-”

“You gotta be able to do the dirty things in life. You gotta be able to do ‘em, and do ‘em right.” Papa took one last bite of the apple and dragged his sleeve across his mouth. “And if you don’t – well, then I’m gonna show you how to be a man. And I won’t need the little negro boy to do it.”

The apple – stripped down to its already browning core – dropped to the ground.