Chapter Twenty-Three: Four Men at the Table

Andre arrived on Monday evening with a container of smoked chicken and a question he refused to ask over the telephone.
The other three men joined him within twenty minutes.
They sat around Marcus’s dining table while Nia worked on homework upstairs.
The leather badge holders that had appeared at the cookout were nowhere in sight.
Marcus had asked his friends to come as themselves, and nobody objected.
Andre looked at the yellow invitation beside his plate.
“You sure about this?” he asked.
“I’m sure about another cookout,” Marcus replied.
“I’m less sure about everything that comes with it.”
Darius leaned forward.
“What happened that afternoon wasn’t a misunderstanding about who owned a house.”
“I know,” Marcus said.
“Margaret saw five Black men and decided that was enough reason to demand police intervention.

”
Nobody interrupted him.
Darius had been the quietest man at the original party, but he had spent the intervening days fielding calls from relatives who saw the neighborhood photograph online.
His mother had asked whether he was safe.
His youngest nephew had asked why the police came when they were only cooking.
“I don’t want another Saturday where we stand around proving we’re respectable,” Darius continued.
“We already did that, and we shouldn’t have needed to.”
Marcus nodded.
“I don’t want that either.”
Caleb picked up an invitation.
“Then why are you inviting half the street?”
“Because Nia wants her friends here,” Marcus answered.
“Because I want my friends here, and because nobody should have to shrink their life to avoid another person’s suspicion.”
The fifth man, Isaiah, had been listening with his hands wrapped around a glass of water.


“I can come early and help set up,” he said.
“That wasn’t the question,” Andre told him.
“I know what the question was,” Isaiah replied.
“I also know Marcus isn’t asking us to perform forgiveness for the neighbors.”
Darius looked toward the staircase.
“Does Nia understand that some people might show up just to argue?”
“She understands more than I wish she did,” Marcus said.
“We can end the gathering if somebody makes it unsafe.”
Caleb put the invitation back on the table.
“I can support that.”
Andre took a bite of chicken and pointed his fork at Marcus.
“I’m bringing my own seasoning this time.”
Marcus laughed for the first time that evening.
“You complained about my burgers for ten years, and now you’re blaming the seasoning.”
“Your burgers are evidence that professional competence doesn’t transfer to a grill.”
The men argued about barbecue until Nia appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
She looked at their empty plates and frowned.
“You ate everything before I got any?”
Isaiah slid his untouched container toward her.
“I saved yours,” he said.
Nia accepted it and looked at the yellow invitations spread across the table.
“Are you coming Saturday?”
Darius answered first.
“Yes, but I’m bringing my nephew.”
“Good,” Nia said.
“He can help judge the dessert contest.”
The men exchanged glances.
“What dessert contest?” Marcus asked.
Nia headed upstairs with the chicken.
“The one I just invented,” she replied.