Imbolo Mbue - Behold the Dreamers

That evening they attended a classical music concert in St. Nicholas Park and listened as a blind pianist performed a piece so sorrowful it briefly clouded Jende’s eyes. The next afternoon, eager to experience more of what a New York City summer had to offer those unable or unwilling to leave the city, he ditched the money he could be making in the Bronx and took his son for a swim at the public pool in East Harlem.

“Papa, show me how you and Uncle Winston used to swim at Down Beach,” Liomi said, and Jende did, flaunting the backstroke he and his cousin used to do in the waters behind the Botanic Garden. After completing two laps while a giggling Liomi watched, Jende lifted the boy and positioned his back against the water to teach him the strokes. Watching Liomi laughing and flapping his arms in the water, Jende saw, for perhaps the first time, his son not only as a child but also as a man in the making, a young man watching and learning from his father, a boy who wanted to follow in the footsteps of his papa and become a man like him in disposition, if not in possessions. That night they slept together as usual, Liomi’s arm around his father and his head on Jende’s chest. Never much of a praying man, Jende said a lengthy prayer for his boy as they lay, that Liomi would live a long happy life.

HALFWAY INTO HER STAY IN SOUTHAMPTON, VINCE EDWARDS WALKED into his bedroom, jumped on his newly made bed while she was fluffing his pillows, and asked her to take a guess.

“Guess about what?” she asked.

“Today’s the day,” he said, beaming.

“Day for …?”

“The day I tell them.”

Neni looked confusedly at the face exploding with joy. “Tell who what?” she asked, wondering why Vince assumed she had to know his news.

“Jende didn’t tell you …?”

“Jende didn’t tell me what?”

“Never mind,” he said, standing up and walking out of the room.

Hours later, around five in the evening, Vince and Cindy left to meet Clark for dinner at a restaurant in Montauk. The next morning Neni saw nothing of Vince and very little of Cindy, who declined her breakfast and lunch and spent much of the afternoon on her phone, begging someone to please be reasonable and think about the consequences of his/her actions. When Neni called Jende later that evening to ask what he thought might be going on, Jende asked her to please stay out of other people’s business.

“If you know something, why won’t you tell me?” she asked.

“If I tell you, what will you do with the information besides gossip about it with your friends?”

She hung up determined to find out the story for herself. She couldn’t eavesdrop any further on Cindy, who had left the house to go for an evening walk on the beach, and Mighty could only tell her that his parents and Vince were fighting — his mom wasn’t telling him why, and Vince was back in the city. When Mighty had called Vince to ask why their mom was so upset, Vince had told him they would talk about it as soon as Mighty returned to the city since it was hard explaining certain things over the phone.

Two nights later, though, Neni wouldn’t have to wonder anymore: After making Mighty sautéed salmon and oven fries for dinner — plus puff-puff, which Mighty had asked for after she told him it was what she and her siblings ate in the mornings as they walked to school — playing video games with him, and tucking him in bed, she went to her bedroom to read a chapter in the textbook for the social psychology class she’d signed up for in the fall semester. Engrossed in a chapter on persuasion, she initially didn’t notice the voices escalating in the kitchen. It was only after perhaps three minutes, after the beseechings and accusations appeared to have reached a crescendo, that she realized it was Mr. and Mrs. Edwards shouting in the kitchen after returning home from a wedding.

She got out of bed, tiptoed up the basement stairs, and leaned on the door with her ear pressed against it.

“No!” she heard Clark shout. “You can go back to her and work on your long list of issues if you must, but I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’d rather see your family fall apart?” Cindy shouted back, her voice trembling. “You’d rather that than see a therapist and admit you’ve got problems that are destroying your family?”

“Yeah, let’s focus on my problems, because you don’t have any.”

“I’m not the reason our son is moving to India!” Cindy cried.

“You think Vince is moving to India because of me?”

“He’s moving to India because he’s unhappy, Clark! He’s miserable—”

“Because of me?”

“Because we haven’t succeeded in giving him a happy life! Because all he wants is to feel happy in his own family, and we can’t even give him that. Can’t you see?”

“Bullshit.”

“Bullshit to what?”

“Bullshit to all your crap about feeling responsible for Vince’s happiness,” Clark shouted, amid the sound of the refrigerator door opening and slamming hard. “He’s a grown man. He’s responsible for his own happiness. I can’t help it if he wants to be an idiot and throw away a perfectly good life. I can’t do anything about it!”

For many seconds they were silent. Neni closed her eyes and shook her head, unsure which of them to feel more sorry for. She imagined Clark was angrily drinking wine or beer straight from the bottle, while Cindy was silently weeping.

“Do you care?” she heard Cindy say, her trembling voice now lower but sadder. “Do you give a shit about how badly you’re hurting us?”

“Right. Sure! Working hard to give my family this life. How awful of me. Doing everything to make sure—”

“You’re not doing everything! You’ve never done everything! Until you understand that family must always come first—”

“There are times when careers must take priority.”

“There has never been a time when this marriage took priority for you. There’s never been a time when this family took priority for you! Not once! That’s why you’re afraid of us going back to therapy — you don’t want to see how selfish and callous you are!”

“What do you want from me, Cindy?” Clark shouted so loud Neni thought the walls vibrated. “Tell me what you want from me!”

“I just … I want,” Cindy wept, “I want you … I want us … I want the boys to be happy, Clark … That’s all I want … for us to be … for my family to be …”

Neni heard footsteps walking away, and she could tell it was Clark Edwards leaving his wife to cry alone in the kitchen. She heard a thump and a wail, and pictured Cindy slipping from against the counter to the floor. She imagined her sitting alone, crying on the cold kitchen floor.

Neni pulled her head away from the door and leaned against the railing. Should she do something? Would it be appropriate? What could she do besides go to the kitchen and see how she could help Cindy?

She opened the door gently and silently stepped into the kitchen, afraid of startling Cindy, who was sitting where Neni imagined she would be sitting. She was moaning softly with her head bowed, so lost in her misery that she didn’t notice Neni walking toward her. Only when Neni stooped close to her did she lift her red tear-stained face, look Neni in her eyes, and begin weeping again.

“I’m sorry, madam,” Neni whispered. “I’m just … I only want to see what I can do to make you feel better.”

Cindy, with her head bowed again, nodded and sniffled. Neni stood up, her hand supporting her belly, and grabbed the box of tissues on the kitchen island. She sat down next to Cindy and offered her a tissue, which Cindy took, blew her nose with, and began crying in.