For Love Alone

Chapter One

Nobody knew of his pearl of the world, at least so he thought. It had too much glory. He walked about, with a glow, like God came down and touched him personally. There was something different about his voice, his attitude and even the way he dressed. This love thing created happiness and jealousy and most folks don’t want glory like that in nobody’s heart.

 But here he was in the concrete jungle of Crown Heights, the place where Jews lived on one side of Eastern Parkway, where race relations were separate as east is from west. He lived there and knew that the other side of town was Jewish kingdom. Even the building in which he lived was owned by the Jews. Park Place, his street ran north to south, sandwiched between Rochester and Buffalo Avenues. At the corner of Park Place, an elementary school came alive with voices of naïve children playing and hustling under the sound of their mother’s voices, telling them that they had better get their education. This part of the neighborhood was eighty percent black until gentrification painted the concrete blocks into colors of the rainbow. Across from the school, there was the barbershop, where young black men gave up the ghost for formal education, pulling their baggy pants which sagged like a baby diaper from their asses. The weed smokers who hugged the block knew who the strangers were; they peddled their five dollar weed bags on the low. It did not matter though; these young men had their look-out crew, who knew when to give the bird-call, if they saw the police driving by, only that the cops were looking for truants who decided early in the game, what their fate would be. It was on this block, Kadeem lived. 

Kadeem was a recent graduate from college, living on his own with a decent paying job. There was no one for him to run to when life crashed. He just knew that holding his life together and making responsible choices was not an option, but a priority. He recalled the day, when he first landed at JFK airport, twenty-one years old, he flew to New York from the Bahamas to meet his father. This was his one moment in time. The man his mother cursed and spoke about was finally within his grasp. Oh, how he dreamed of the day when he would meet his father. The man who donated half of his chromosome to create a soul that miraculously survived to become a man capable of surviving the perils of life, to live on his own. When Kadeem opened his eyes he was propped up in his queen-sized bed. While stretching his hands and feet to the four corners of his bed, he lazily wiped away the grit of last night’s sleep and tapped the alarm clock, searching with his fingers for the snooze button. Grabbing his bathroom robe from his computer chair, he rushed towards the shower-, but realized, it was Saturday. 

7:30am, his usual wakeup time for his 9 o’clock gig-his job. The burnt scent of his neighbor’s fried eggs and toast greeted his nostrils, after a few watery blinks he slid back under the comforter, edging inside awkwardly like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. In the corner of his left eye, Kadeem saw his computer desk, the unfinished poem, and half a bottle of water. To his right, the pine finished chest of drawers half–opened with white underwear he thought he was going to wear to a party last night, but had changed his mind. No matter how he tried to shake the dream, it hung like a dark cloud.