Sweet Like Chocolate

Thirteen

Morton

I smiled at the old gezert from across the table. "Well first off, let me ask you how's the food?"

He gobbled the breakfast up like it was nothing.

"Mighty good if you ask me."

"Great. Because I prepared it." I admitted, even though his wife urged me not to. He looked at me then at the food sitting on front of him. Go ahead and keep on eating mothafucka, you're already half way through the damned plate. I thought to myself. He paused for a minute, but the continued eating... "Well, well, ain't that interesting." He chuckled. "You ain't poison my plate now, did ya?" He joked, or more so tried to make it seem like one.

"Of course not, Mr. Greene. My people don't do that." I said. If he wanted to try a little sneak dissing, I had no problem with it as well. "But anyways, Mr. Greene, what are your views on the Trayvon Martin case?" It was so out there, but a sistah had another strategy in mind.

"That boy that was shot over in Florida?"

"Yep."

"Well, I don't know, what do you think?"

I smirked. "This conversation isn't about me. The spotlight is on you."

"Okay. I say the spic was wrong for shooting the boy."

"What boy?" I challenged.

"You know, uh. . ."

". . .tray. . ." I mumbled.

"Trayvon. Him." His eyes were filled with spite, the way he squinted all while admitting to that boy's side instead of Zimmerman. Shit, I could respect the honesty. I nodded. "Aight. So what about us don't you like?"

"Who?"

"Black folk. You know? Niggers? C'mon, let's be real." I slid my plate aside. "That's one thing I can't stand about a racist," I shook my head and huffed. "You beat around the bush when we come with confrontation."

"Okay, you want me to be straight forward?"

"Yeah, I'm a grown ass woman. I can handle it."

He cleared his throat.

"No," Edward said, tossing his napkin on his plate. "I'd rather not we get into this."

I shot Edward a look. "No... Edward, he can. He's entitled to speaking his own opinion, right, Dad-in-law?"

The look on that man's face after that had me rollin'. He shook his head. I chuckled at his pathetic ass as he got all uncomfortable in his chair. I loved how I could control him like that.

"I sure can. I would love to." He said, as if itching to say what he had on his mind. "Well first off, I don't like when someone feels as though the entire world owes 'em an apology or something."

"Who thinks the world owes them something?"

"Blacks. Why is it that slavery has come and passed and y'all think-"

"Wait a minute, hold fast," I interrupted him. "One thing that you won't do is mash me together with the facts and what you believe. Don't say y'all." I said. "And racism is the offspring of slavery. We still deal with this shit everyday, all day. And we're wrong for feeling the way that we do?"

"Honey,"

"What makes you better than a black man your exact same age?"

"Oh what the hell," Jefferson pushed away from the table. "This is what I be talking about. Y'all don't even belong here."