Page 9 of Black
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault that my mom had a thing for stupid romance books.”
“She named you after a romance book?”
“Yeah, ever heard of Darcy fromPride and Prejudice?”
I nodded. “That’s Jane Austen, right?” I said it without admitting that I had actually seen the TV show once.
“Oh, yes. Good old Jane was my mom’s obsession all through her pregnancy with me. She used to tell me that I was named Darcia Emma Nilsson after her two favorite characters, but I’m not sure it’s true because I once overheard her say that my middle name Emma was short for dilemma.”
“So you don’t like either of those names?”
“No. I’ve been Black since I was fifteen.”
“Well, I can’t blame you – I think Gabriel is kind of pompous too.”
She looked up at me. “Yeah, I suppose being named after an archangel does put you under pressure,” she said.
I don’t know why I was surprised that she knew about the origin of my name. Maybe because she looked more like a Satanist than a Christian, but it made me ask, “Are you religious?”
She picked up the banana on the table and peeled it. “No, I’m not religious, I just like to read. Besides, when your home is a dump and your mom is an alcoholic, a library offers a warm place to hang out. I once read the Bible out of curiosity.”
“You read the whole Bible?”
“Yes, and other religious books. I like to read.”
“But if you’re not religious, why would you do that?”
“Maybe I was looking for answers. I don’t know.”
I still couldn’t get over the mental image of this hard-core Goth chick reading the bible. “Did you find any?”
“Some, but dude, don’t you need to get back to your party or something?”
She was right, it was getting late and I too could hear the cell phone buzzing in my inner pocket.
“Maybe I should. Can I give you a lift somewhere?” I asked.
She lifted her palms up. “It’s okay, I can walk.”
“I don’t want you to walk. Come on, let me take you home,” I said.
She wrapped the two last pieces of cake in some napkins and carefully placed them in her backpack.
“Thank you for bailing me out and for this.” She lifted her white cup of cocoa and gave a small smile. It was the first time I had seen anything close to a smile on her face.
“Where do you live?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said dismissively. “But give me your number so I can pay you back.”
I pulled out my phone, opened up a new contact, and handed it to her. “Just give me your contact info and then I’ll send you a text with my number.”
“I can’t.” She pushed up from her chair. “I lost my phone – can’t you just scribble your number on a napkin?”
I did, and handed it to her. “Come on, let me take you home.”
“No.” Black lifted the napkin. “I’ll see you around, Uncle G.” She was just about to walk away when I got up from my chair and stopped her.
“I’m taking you home,” I repeated and for a silent second she narrowed her eyes and gave me a defiant stare down.
