George Pelecanos - Hard Revolution

A white police officer walked by him, dirt on his face, rubbing at his eyes, unaware that Strange was sitting on the truck. The police officer said, “Fuckin’ niggers” to no one, then repeated it, shaking his head as he walked on. Strange watched him pass.

He thought of Carmen: where she was and what she was doing tonight. She was with her friends, probably, from Howard U. Talking about this, getting behind it, most likely, while he was out here fighting it. He thought of his brother and what he would say if he were still alive. His father and his mom. The conversations they’d all be having, the spirited debate, if they were together again on Princeton. What would his father tell him to do if he were here right now?

Strange dropped the rag to the street, got up, and walked to an area of disturbance to the south.

At the Empire Market at 14th and Euclid, a group of youths had attempted to set fire to the looted store. Police had driven them away with tear gas, but they had returned. One of the young men threw a canister back at the officers who had thrown it at him. Strange joined the officers in their attempts to repel the assault. The boys disappeared into a nearby alley, returned fifteen minutes later, and tried again. Police were successful in chasing them off but were called back north to quell more rioting. When Strange returned with other police, the store had been set ablaze.

Strange stood in the street as firemen trained their hoses with futility on the store.

A woman his mother’s age, wearing a housecoat, came out from a nearby apartment building and handed him a teacup full of water. Strange thanked her and drank it down, lapping at it like a dog. Strange and the woman watched the market burn, their faces illuminated by the flames and embers that rose into the night.

STRANGE FOUND BLUE down around U Street near dawn. Police now lined the strip, and most of the citizens had gone indoors. Tear gas and the smoke of fires still roiled in the air, and burglar alarms continued to sound. But it seemed as if the trouble was done.

Two hundred adults and juveniles had been arrested. Two hundred stores had had their windows broken, and most of those stores had been looted. Many buildings had been destroyed by fire.

Some windows of the F Street Hecht’s had been broken, as had the windows of D.J. Kaufman’s at 10th and E, near Pennsylvania Avenue. Scattered window breaking had been reported on Mount Pleasant Street, 7th and Florida, and in Park View, where kids had hurled rocks from moving cars. But the rioting seemed to have been contained to the 14th Street corridor.

“Go home,” said Blue, his face streaked with dried tears of dirt.

“I’m on till eight.”

“I talked to my CO,” said Blue. “He said you can go. Take those boys you came with, too.”

Strange nodded. Blue tapped his fist to his chest. Strange did the same.

Strange and his fellow officers from the Sixth took their squad car up to the precinct house. Those that did not go to sleep immediately in the car did not speak. At the station, Strange picked up his Impala and drove down to his parents’ row house. As he turned off Georgia onto Princeton, he noticed that the window in the door of Meyer’s market had been broken. Mr. Meyer was there, taping a square of cardboard over the glass.

Derek Strange’s parents were seated at the eating table of the living room as he entered the apartment. He hugged his mother, who stood to greet him, and shook his father’s hand. Derek had a seat at the table and rubbed one hand over his cheeks while his mother went into the kitchen to get him a cup of black coffee.

Darius Strange looked at his son’s dirt-streaked face and the areas of his uniform darkened by ash and perspiration.

“You had quite a day,” said Darius.

Derek nodded. By his tone Derek knew that his father was telling him he had done well.

“I want you to take care of yourself, you hear me, boy?”

“Yes,” said Derek.

“Your mother can’t take another loss.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Look at me, son.” Darius leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’m sick, Derek.”

“What you mean, sick? ”

“I mean I don’t know how much longer I have on this earth.”

“Pop…”

“Ain’t no need for you to stress on it. I’m tellin’ you now so you think about it the next time you step out that door.”

“How do you know?”

“I know. Now, listen, you’re gonna need to stay healthy for your mother. She’s strong, but there is only so much a person can take.”

“Have you told her?”

Darius shook his head. He kept his gaze on his son, telling him with his eyes not to speak about what had been said, as Alethea returned to the table and placed a cup of coffee before Derek.

“Thank you, Mama,” he said.

“We should say some words,” said Alethea.

Darius led them in a prayer. They prayed for Dr. King and for what he stood for, and for peace to come to the streets. They prayed for justice. They prayed for Dr. King’s soul and for the soul of their son and brother, Dennis Strange.

“Amen,” said Alethea and Derek when Darius was done.

Darius cleared his throat. “This trouble is gonna change the funeral plans.”

“I’ll call the home today,” said Derek. “See what they say.”

“You need to get some rest first,” said Alethea.

“I will.” Derek noticed his mother’s uniform dress and his father’s starched white shirt for the first time. “Y’all are going in today?”

“Everybody is,” said Darius. “Business as usual, that’s what they’re sayin’ on the radio and TV.”

“They need to close everything down,” said Derek. “Show some respect for the reverend. That’s what most folks are lookin’ for.”

“I agree,” said Darius. “But the decision’s been made. Even the government’s open. “

“You don’t work for the government.”

“True. But I’m not gonna leave Mike shorthanded. And your mother’s got her obligations, too.” Darius looked at his wristwatch. “I better get goin’. I need to fire up that grill.”

Darius got up from his seat, went to Alethea, and kissed her on the edge of her mouth. He took his jacket off a limb of the coat tree and put it on. Derek followed him to the door.

“You remember what I told you,” said Darius. “You mind yourself out there.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Darius eyed Derek up and down. “You got tested, didn’t you?”

“You know I did. I got called every name in the book by my own kind. I got looked at with hate by folks who been looked down on their whole lives, just like me. I’m tellin’ you, there were times when I felt like joining those people last night.”

“You want the truth?” said Darius. “I felt like joining them, too.”

“Why didn’t you, then?”

“’Cause that’s not me. Doesn’t mean I can’t recognize that what happened last night was necessary. People gonna listen now. They have to.”

“So what do I do?”

“You made a commitment,” said Darius. “Folks always gonna respect you for that, even if they say different.”

“What are you tellin’ me?”

“Do your job.”

Darius hugged Derek and patted his back. He nodded to Alethea before heading out the door.

Derek took his seat at the table again and sipped his coffee. “Anyone call me?”

“You mean Carmen?”

“Anyone.”

“Carmen didn’t call.” Alethea reached across the table and touched Derek’s hand. “Go get a shower while I make you some breakfast.”

Derek took off his uniform in his brother’s bedroom and folded it neatly, placing it on a chair. He showered and changed into pants and a shirt that were Dennis’s and smelled like Dennis. As he dressed, his mother used some grease from an old Wilkin’s coffee can to fry bacon and eggs in a skillet. She served them along with toast, hot sauce, and another cup of coffee as Derek came back to the table. She sat and watched him eat.