Black Sheep (21 page)

“Yo, Dee, your boxers aren’t showing!” he cried, before laughing out loud.

I hitched up my jeans. “Man has to come correct, y’get me,” I muttered, swiping at his head. “Shut up, man! Shut up before I mash you up!”

He ducked and ran off to his room to finish getting dressed. “You must really love this girl,” he shouted from his room. “Man is going all the way to
North London
– with a belt on! That’s love for you, man. That’s love.”

I watched Jay as he stared at the plate of vegetable stew and dumplings in front of him.

‘
Eat!
’ I willed him with my mind.

I knew that Jay was a well fussy eater, mainly living on pizza and chicken nuggets – and rice and peas on a Sunday – but I had already told him to make sure he didn’t show me
up. He took a small bite, and then another, then another. And before I was halfway through mine, he was done.

He looked up, all surprised.

Everyone was staring at him.

“Well,” chuckled Misha’s stepmum, “your little brother certainly likes Mark’s stew! I’ve never seen food disappear so fast! Here, give me your plate,
there’s more in the pot.”

I turned to Mark. “You made this? Raah... you can cook, huh?” I was well impressed.

“Any chance I get,” grinned Mark. “When Mum will let me in the kitchen...” And he made a face at his mum as she came back in from the kitchen.

“Now, what’s this boy been telling you, eh? Slandering his mother, is he?”

“Nah, Mum, never, never,” Mark laughed, helping himself to more dumpling. Then he leaned over to me and whispered, “Actually, she’s jealous of my skills, y’know.
One time, I made this wicked soup and Mum’s friends came round and when they tasted it, they were all like, ‘Oh Lawd, Leona, this is some fine soup yuh cook ‘ere!’ and Mum
just smiled and said nothing – all the time it was me who made that soup, y’know!”

We all laughed and, just like that, the tension disappeared. It was amazing: we became just a regular family, eating dinner together on a Sunday afternoon.

I felt myself relax and, when Misha smiled at me across the table, I knew deep inside that everything was going to be all right.

The chat with Misha’s dad wasn’t that bad. He rolled up a joint and offered me some but I said no. It didn’t feel right to be smoking a spliff with your
girl’s father, even if he was a Rasta.

He asked me about myself, my family. I was as honest as I could be: no dad, hardworking mum, best little brother in the world.

He asked me about my interests, what I liked doing. I told him about my music, how I had been approached by some DJ crews to spit for them, how I had won ‘nuff MC battles. I told him about
maths, about the Higher Tier exams and tutoring the little kids after school.

“To tell you the truth, sir, I really didn’t think much about exams and school until... until I met Misha...”

“Really? Why is that?”

“None of us did, y’get me. Where I’m from, school is just a place, a place your parents send you to get you out of their hair for a few hours. Hardly anyone takes it serious.
They’re like, ‘What’s the point? Ain’t no good jobs for black boys anyway’. Plus everyone’s making money out on road. No one ain’t talking about going
college or university or anything like that. And then I meet Misha and she’s like talking about studying Latin and wanting to take Spanish for ‘A’ Level, going university to
become a linguist. Man, I had to go Google that one coz I didn’t even know what a linguist was, y’get me! And she’s talking to me, yeah, telling me about stuff I’ve never
heard of, ideas I’ve never thought of, and I’m like, raah, this girl is something else, something special. Making man see the world differently, y’understand. So I start to fix
up. Start to get serious about school, start thinking about my future, where I wanna be in five years’ time. Coz I wanna live up to who she thinks I can be. Coz no one ain’t believed in
me like that before, ever...”

I stopped talking then and looked up at Misha’s dad. I was afraid that he would be vex’ with me or think I was crazy. But he actually had a little smile on his face!

“I feel like I know you, Dwayne Kingston,” he said. “Like I see a small part of myself in you. You have a good heart, I can see that. But let me tell you something,” he
growled. “My daughter is a queen, y’understand? My daughter is a queen and deserves only honour and respect. Do you know how to respect a woman? I go tell you. To respect a woman is to
love her, to trust her, to be honest and upfront with her, to protect her and to elevate her. Can you do all of this for my daughter? Can you? Because if you are playing a game with her, I advise
you to leave my house right now.” His eyes blazed as he glared at me.

I shook my head.

“No, sir,” I squeaked. “I... I’m not playing games, sir. I... I love her... I love your daughter, sir.”

Mr Reynolds sat back in his seat. “So it looks like I will have to be having a word with Misha’s mother. But I’ll be keeping a close eye on you two. You are both still very
young and foolish. So we’ll have to see where this whole thing goes. Now go ‘long! Tell Misha I said to come here with my cup of herbal tea. You can go and join the rest of the family
now.” And he put his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes.

I left as quickly as I could. I was sweating!

When I gave Misha her dad’s message, her eyes were full of questions. “It was fine, babes, we’re sorted. It’s gonna be fine.”

Misha squealed with delight and jumped up and held on to my neck.

“I’m sorry, Misha,” I whispered. “I’m sorry for being such a eediat. Will you forgive me?”

“Of course I will, Dwayne,” she smiled. That was what I wanted to do: put a smile on her face every day.

Misha’s little sister, Imani, tugged my hand.

“Come, Dwayne,” she said in her high little voice. “I want to show you the African dance I learned this weekend.”

When Misha came in from seeing her dad, she found us all in the lounge: Mark and Jay on the cowhide drums, Imani dancing away in the middle and me spitting some freestyle over the beats. Leona
was ad-libbing with snatches of a chorus she had made up. “Come dance with us, Mishie!” called Josh and, soon, Misha was in the centre of the lounge, copying Imani’s moves, moving
to the beat of the drums and my voice flowing over all of them.

Jay fell asleep on the train on the way home. I had to carry him back to the flat on my back. When we left Misha’s dad’s place, I messaged Mum to tell her that we
were on our way back so that she wouldn’t stay up worrying. I knew she had the early shift at work and needed to get to sleep early.

I got us into the flat and kicked open the door to Jay’s room. I laid him on his bed and slipped off his favourite yellow trainers. The ones I had bought him for his birthday. Jay shifted
and opened one eye. He smiled a crooked smile.

Joker. He’d been awake all along!

“That was nice, Dee,” he said sleepily. “Misha’s family’s really nice...” Then he closed his eye and his head flopped to one side.

I stayed there for a few moments, looking at his little chest rise and fall. “Thank you, Jay,” I said softly, pulling the covers over him. “You were a star tonight. You smashed
it.”

When I got to my room, I sat down on the bed, thinking about Misha and her family. Thinking about how it felt to know that Misha was still into me, that we were back together, that her dad had
my back. I grinned. I couldn’t have hoped for better. Times like this, man just had to show a bit of gratitude.

“Thank you, God... Allah... Thank you...for everything.”

Reconciliation

MISHA

I spent two weeks at Dad’s before finally going home to Mum. We spoke on the phone most days but, often, those conversations ended in an argument or either one of us
putting the phone down. On Thursday night, we had a particularly bitter argument and I refused to speak to Mum when she called back.

“Looks like we need to have a family meeting,” said Dad gravely.

Leona’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure, Isaiah? You know what Dina can be like...”

“I can’t be having all this dissent and upheaval in my family,” Dad said. “We must sort it out once and for all.”

Early the next morning, Dad rang Mum while she was on her way to work. “Dina, I want you to come to the house tonight.”

“What? Why?” She was on speaker-phone, so I could hear everything she said.

“Because you and Misha must sort this thing out.”

“Well, Isaiah, if you think I’m coming up to your place so that you and Leona can have a go at me, you’ve got another think coming. I am perfectly capable of speaking to my own
daughter – but at home, in private.”

“Enough with your foolish pride, Dina!” Dad raised his voice. “No one is saying you aren’t capable – we know that you are. But this thing here needs a family
discussion, where we can all share our views and come to the best decision. Please, Dina, just put your pride to one side for once.”

“I don’t want Leona there,” Mum said stiffly. “She’s not really family, is she?”

“Dina, Leona
is
family,” Dad growled. “She is family because she loves Misha, like we all do. And to be honest, she’s really been there for Misha through all of
this, giving her some real good advice, listening to her. Don’t try and shut her out now. For Misha’s sake.”

It was strange to meet Mum at the door of Dad’s place. We had never even spent more than two nights apart, ever. She looked different somehow, older. At first I
didn’t know what to say, what to do or where to look. So much had happened. But then I saw a shadow cross her face and I knew that she was just as unsure as I was.

“Mum,” I whispered, stepping forward.

“Oh, Misha,” she breathed and held her arms out to me, her only daughter. “My baby, come here...”

I stepped into her arms willingly and held her hard, suddenly hit by the realisation that I had missed her, missed her a lot. We stood there for a long time, Mum rubbing my back, stroking my
hair. We were both sniffling by the time we separated.

“Come on then, Mum,” I said, my voice hoarse, “everyone’s waiting for you.”

And, for the first time in living memory, Mum stepped over the threshold of Dad and Leona’s house in North London.

It didn’t go as badly as I had feared. Mum was civil to Leona, even quite warm with Mark and Imani, letting Joshie play with her keys. It was when we all moved to the dining room that
things got a little heated.

“Misha, please, how many times do I have to tell you,” Mum cried out at one point, “I’m not trying to ruin your life! I’m just trying to protect you from the things
that could destroy your future.”

“Yes, Mum, I know that but I have to have a say in my future too!” I responded with feeling. “It’s my life!”

Then Dad’s soothing voice: “Dina, you have done a fantastic job with Misha. You’ve given her direction, you’ve taught her, you’ve passed on the values we all hold
dear. You’ve done your job well. But now Misha needs space to put it all into practice, to make the right choices instead of you making all her choices for her.”

“That’s right, Dina,” added Leona gently. “Can’t you see that all you are doing is weakening the very strength of character you tried so hard to build? We need to
be empowering Misha, getting her ready for the big bad world, not trying to hide her from it.”