He’s a powerful man. One I admire.
“Uncle Jo!” I say with a big smile on my face.
He pulls me in for a hug and laughs too. “How you doing, boy?”
“All right, I guess,” I reply. But that’s kind of a lie. “I miss the reserve, though. Cooking out in the wild, making frybread with the family.”
“You still remember that? Aww …” He rubs my head and tousles my hair as if I’m still a little kid. “Yeah, those are the good memories all right.”
I swiftly step out of his arms when I notice Hanson staring at us.
“And who’s this?” Uncle Josiah asks.
Hanson holds out his hand. “Name’s Hanson.”
My uncle stares him down instead of shaking his hand, then says, “Nice to meet ya, boy.”
“He works at my papa’s shop too,” I add with an awkward smile. “He’s from the reserve like you.”
Uncle Josiah smiles back. “So your papa has you cleaning up the front of the shop?” He looks the window up and down, the letters still clearly visible, and shakes his head.
I glance at the racist words scribbled on the windows. “Yeah, people don’t really like us here.”
“Well, that’s no reason for them to behave like that,” he says, gesturing at the window.
I nod. “I’ve said that over and over, but Papa won’t listen. He thinks people will get used to us and that things will eventually settle down.” I rub the back of my neck, unsure what I should do. “It pisses me off that Papa lets everyone walk all over him. If it were up to me, I’d have beaten the shit out of them already.”
Uncle Josiah laughs. “Of course, you would. But your papa ain’t like that. He’s more of a gentle soul.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll appreciate it someday.”
“If you say so,” I reply, which he ignores.
“Is your papa inside? I need to speak with him,” he asks.
I nod, and he immediately walks inside, so I stroll behind him while simultaneously signaling to Hanson that I have no clue what’s going on.
When my papa sees me with my uncle, though … I have never seen his eyes turn that cold that quickly.
“Josiah? What are you doing here?” he asks with an obvious sneer. He clutches the counter as he walks in front of it. “Brandon, c’mere boy.”
“It’s Uncle Jo. Aren’t you happy to see him?” I ask, confused.
“Come. Here.” The frown on my papa’s face completely sours my mood.
After a reluctant glance at my uncle, I make my way over to my papa. What happened between them? All I know is that we were one big happy family when we left the reserve.
My papa clears his throat. “Hanson, you can go home now.”
Hanson makes a face. “But I thought we were supposed to—”
“You’re done for today,” my papa says resolutely.
“Okay,” Hanson says, side-eyeing me. He shrugs and drops everything he was doing. “See ya tomorrow.”
After he’s gone, I frown and glare at Uncle Jo and then my papa. They’re staring uncomfortably at one another.
“Nice shop you got here,” Uncle Jo says, playing with some of the items on the shelves.
“Go to the back,” my papa whispers at me.
“Why? I’m old enough to know what’s going on, Papa,” I say.
“Not. Now,” he hisses. “Uncle Jo and I have some business to take care of.”
Sighing out loud, I say, “Fine.”
I go to the back of the shop, but my dad didn’t say I couldn’t listen to their conversation from behind the doorway.
What? I’m not perfect.
Besides, this is way too important to miss.
“So how’s Brandon doing at school?” Uncle Jo asks. “Straight A’s?”
“He’s doing fine,” my papa replies without any emotion. It’s like he hates talking about me or something.
“Great to hear. Business good too?”
“We manage,” my papa answers, then he clears his throat. “Let’s not pretend you’re actually interested.”
“Oh, c’mon now. Course I am. Just because you’ve moved out doesn’t mean you’re not part of the family anymore.”
It’s quiet for a few seconds. Something jingles. Sounds like the cash register.
“Here,” Papa says. “That’s what you came here for, isn’t it?”
“Well …”
“I don’t need the lies, please,” my papa says. “Just take it.”
“I’m glad you’re ready to pay off the loan.”
Loan? What loan? Since when does my papa take money from people? Why don’t I know any of this? Fuck.
“Happy to do business with you,” Uncle Jo says. I don’t even need to see him to know he’s smiling. But it’s not a good one, that I can tell.
“That’s the last of it, right?” my papa asks.
“Of course. But if you ever need more, you know where to find me.”
“I’ll pass on that offer, thank you,” my papa replies, his voice just as stern as when he badgers me about something bad I did. “Goodbye.”
He’s sure quick to cut the conversation short.
“Good luck with the shop, Ahiga.”