Take Her Man

“Calm down, Troy,” Kyle said, taking my bag from me. “I know about Mr. Tight Suit from the play reception. I just had some extra time before the concert and I wanted to see you teach. So I came down here to try to catch your class.” He looked at me innocently. “That’s it. No strings. I just wanted to see your class.”

I looked Kyle up and down. He had on sneakers and a navy blue sweat suit. He looked so cute and so not like a pastor. I had to confess, if he was mine, I might’ve had to pull a Tamia Library Move in the basement of the settlement. But…then again, I guessed I wouldn’t be doing any of that with the pastor.

“You sure?” I asked, squinting my eyes jokingly.

“I’m sure, Detective Troy.”

“You’re good with her,” Kyle said, walking with me down the street toward the park. I’d told him to meet me at the park after I had a shower at the center, but he’d insisted on waiting for me in the lobby. I swear, it was like my father created this man with his own hands or something. He was every father’s dream. Now, whether he was the daughter’s dream was still up for grabs.

“You think I’m good?” I asked. I loved working with the children, but sometimes I wondered if I was making a difference. Many of the girls were living close to poverty. I knew for a fact that some of my students were in foster homes because their parents were drug addicts, and one girl said her mother used to make her steal food from the grocery store. The oldest girl in my class, Nala, was fifteen and she already had a two-year-old of her own. Some of the girls said they thought her father had gotten her pregnant. Knowing all this, I worried if my little dance class was doing anything for them. Even I knew learning a pirouette wasn’t going to save them from the crap that was waiting for them outside their doors.

“Yeah, you were really patient with her. You seemed to really be listening to what she had to say. That’s worth a million bucks to a kid.”

“Thanks.” I smiled, walking into the park beside Kyle. “I really just try to get them to work hard in the class so they can see what it’s like to work hard at something and finish it.” I pointed to a small canvas bag Kyle had on his other shoulder. “So what’s in the bag?”

“Just a small blanket, fruit and a bottle of grape juice,” he said. “I figured we could sit on the blanket during the concert. Is that okay with you, big head?”

“My head is not big,” I said, laughing although I’d heard that before from different people.

“Please, it’s bigger than all outside. I’m just trying not to get hit.” He ducked playfully.

“Whatever.” I grinned. I mean, my head was a bit larger than others but I liked to call it shapely—that’s how my mother put it when she used to get mad when I couldn’t fit any of the hats she’d bought for me as a kid.

“No, but really,” Kyle continued, “how did you get into the whole service thing? I mean, how does a lady as privileged as yourself get into working in the community?”

“I’m not privileged,” I said. Kyle looked at me like I was speaking French. “Okay, maybe I am a bit more privileged than your average girl in New York.” I laughed. “I can’t say when I started doing service work. I was always involved in little projects when I was in Jack and Jill growing up. In fact, one park clean-up initiative we did was even in Up the Hill.”

“Oh, that stupid newsletter Jack & Jill does?” Kyle grimaced.

“Yeah,” I said. “How do you know about that?”

“Oh, my parents made me do all that J&J stuff, too,” Kyle replied. “I hated it.”

“Well, I started doing service with them when I was young, but I didn’t really start working with kids until I went to Howard and pledged.”

“Oh, no,” he said. “Don’t even tell me,”—he backed up and looked me up and down—“Pink and Green all the way.”

“Stop playing, buster. You know I’m a Delta,” I laughed.

“Okay, yeah, I figured that much,” Kyle said, laughing. “I pledged Omega at Morehouse.”

“Really?” I was surprised. Kyle just didn’t strike me as the Greek type. He was just too solitary. “I should’ve known there was a reason you were hanging with my father…one of his fraternity brothers.”

“Yeah, it’s a tradition in my family. Three generations of Omega preachers.”

“It’s funny how that happens,” I said.

/> “So go on with the teaching. How did that start?”

“Anyway, my Delta chapter volunteered at a community center in D.C. and one day the director said they needed someone to teach a dance class. I took up the reins since I had been in ballet classes for most of my life, and I’ve been volunteer teaching in different places ever since.”

“That’s great,” Kyle said. “I’ve always said it’s a true measure of a person’s heart when they give even when they do not have to…when no one expects it. That’s like Christ’s love.”

“You’re right,” I agreed with Kyle. It felt odd to have someone bring that up in a conversation on the way to a jazz concert, but he was right. That was one of the things I loved about the church. Free love. Unconditional love. All of us could use that sometimes. Even the fly girls.

Kyle led me toward the area in the park where they usually held the concerts. Even though we were thirty minutes early, people were already crowding around everywhere. Folks had blankets and lawn chairs set up like we were at the beach. There were almost no spaces left.

“So tell me, are you a spiritual person?” Kyle asked, padding through the crowd. “I mean, I know you go to church and that you were raised in the church, but would you consider yourself spiritual?”