Setaphire

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2

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THE WAKE s***h BIRTHDAY party was a nightmare. I don’t want to be Setaphire. Chaka moved around the room carefree, sifting through, and packing my belongings into boxes. Now and then asking me. Do you want me to pack this? I don’t care what she packed into boxes, but I didn’t tell her that. I answered with a feeble mumble of yes or no. To show in a safe and indirect way, I was unhappy with my new alias, move, and anything associated with this upheaval. I needed fresh air.

“May I go sit out on the porch?”

It was the first time Chaka stopped since she took on this ridiculous task. She lifted her head and looked straight through the windows of my soul.

“It is stuffy in here. Remember, before you go beyond the block, you need to tell me.”

“Okay.”

I opened the front door and plopped my butt onto the first step.

“Sapphire, Sapphire!” Ebonique and her crew shouted my name.

Preoccupied with my thoughts I didn’t think to peek out the window. I didn’t want to go across the street, because I knew how Ebonique always pushed me around in the middle of the conversation. Ebonique motioned me to come. A dummy, I went across the street.

“You called her Sapphire. That’s no longer her name.” Ebonique enunciated her words well.

“That’s no longer her name?” asked Jasmine.

“What’s her name?” Princess asked.

Ebonique smirked. “Sapphire’s new name is Setaphire. For Sapphire 11th birthday present, her mother gave her the truth.”

“The truth!” Princess said.

“Yes, as in God’s honest truth. Sapphire is not Sapphire, Sapphire is Setaphire!” quipped Ebonique.

Jasmine’s eyes grew bigger. “You’re adopted?”

“No, I don’t think I am.”

Ebonique grumbled. “They lost me at the explanation.”

A brief period of silence erupted. Ebonique wanted me to take the floor; Instead, I took the moment to plan my great escape from the jaws of Ebonique and her crew. My mind was blank. Where are those emergency exit plans I kept in the back of my head for emergencies?

Princess pestered. “Are you Sapphire one day and Setaphire the next?”

“No.”

Keeping it short and sweet. I hoped they catch on and notice my one-word answers. An indirect sign I don’t want to engage in this conversation. Nope, not them!

“What’s so special about being Setaphire?” Jasmine asked.

“Easy, she doesn’t have to be Sapphire. Maybe, Setaphire will have qualities that Sapphire lacks,” Ebonique replied.

What quality do I lack? A fashion sense? Ebonique and her crew always talk about the cutest shoes, handbags, accessories, and hairstyles. I wasn’t a girlie girl but wasn’t a tomboy either. There was one dress somewhere in my closet. I preferred pants or capris, Superstars, or a pair of Chuck Taylor. My backpack is my pocketbook.

Chaka and Uhuru individuality inspired me, notorious for wearing dashikis, Uhuru owned every color and even owned colors you never knew existed. Zanzibar, a brilliant red. Gleam grape, a profound purple. Shirts that made statements. Chaka wore dashikis dresses, crescent gold, a soft yellow. A pearl blue, pale blue. A marigold, deep orange. I asked Uhuru and Chaka if I could get one to wear too. I thought they were cool but my peers disagreed. This didn’t discourage me not one bit from wearing it. I still wore my dashiki. Only on the weekends.

I made Chaka and Uhuru proud. When I approach them with the request to go natural and cultivate an Afro. My Afro was deliberately uneven, neat, curly, twisty, wild out-of-sight. A rite of passage. Everybody important in my life rocked natural dos. They agreed under the circumstances. That I could not get my hair styled in a style, that was more than just a style. That required serious introspection, and I was not yet ready to take on such a huge assessment. Rebelle gorgeous dreads flowed down her back.

“Setaphire!”

It relieved me to hear my mother’s voice. Engrossed in questions and insults, they didn’t wish me a safe trip or goodbye.

“Bye.” I crossed the street.

Chaka sat on the steps with a delicious glass of lemonade. An extra glass sat beside her.

She gave me the extra glass of lemonade. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.”

I took a seat next to her.

“Today is a gorgeous day.” Chaka looked at the sky.

I guess today was a nice day. I was breathing.

“More and more I grow disillusioned. I try to acknowledge blessings in modest proportions. Addicts and thugs.” Chaka paused and opted not to talk over the blaring sirens. “And sirens. You gotta dig deep into your soul and pull out a ta da.”

Chaka and Uhuru were born and raised in the ghetto, they dedicated their lives to volunteering and activism, the betterment of their community and civil rights was at the heart of their fight. They ran a youth outreach center. A nonprofit organization that helped at-risk children. Everyone is welcome. There are programs, tutors, activities, and snacks.

“Your father and I belong here. This is not where you belong. Be upset. I’m not worried one bit. That hurt will dissipate.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re sweet.”

Rebelle pulled up and parked in front of the door and exited the car. She alarmed it as she approached us. Rebelle was a well-balanced human, though she would dismiss such a huge compliment. Her size was misleading. She was real heavy.

“I stopped by to see if you needed help to pack.”

“Thank you, but Setaphire and I have it covered.”

“I’m not bummed out you have rejected my services.”

“Yeah, I bet you’re not.”

I got up enough nerve to look across the street. My eyes saw Ebonique and her crew eyeballing me. I quickly adjusted my eyes to something else. Reading the distress written on my jacked-up face.

Rebelle looked across the street too.“Your friends.”

I didn’t let Rebelle finish her sentence before it compelled me to interrupt. “They’re not my friends. I have no friends.”

Chaka added. “Yet.”

Rebelle placed her hand on her hip. “Who am I? Am I not your friend?”

“Yes, you’re my friend.” My face turned a rosy brown.

“And don’t you forget it, kiddo but I am only a temporary substitute for the persons that’s M. I. A. in your life.”

“M. I. A?”

“Missing in action.”

“Who’s missing from my life?”

“Who’s missing from my life?” Chaka replied. “What’s missing from my life? The meaning of life? Individual answers for each individual.”

“What time will Puma and Fehed arrive?”

“Later this evening. They will stay overnight and leave in the morning.”

I’m leaving tomorrow, so soon.

“It’ll give Setaphire a chance to settle in before the school year starts.”

“Okay, I have errands to run and business to handle.” Rebelle stood up and requested from me the same. Her fragrance proclaimed righteousness as it seeped into my senses when we embraced.

“Love you. Chaka, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, see you.”

Rebelle drove away. I stood there.

“Come on, let’s go inside, and eat lunch.”

Uhuru came home at the perfect time. Chaka made enough food for a party of three sandwiches, potato salad, chips, and pickles.

“It will be nice if we spent Setaphire’s last day at The African American Heritage Festival,”

Uhuru said.

The African American Heritage Festival, a yearly festival celebrating African culture, with live music performed by local acts, national recording artists, food, arts, crafts, Jewelry, clothing, freebies, health advice, and pamphlets that contained informative, educational, and boring information.

“Uhuru, that’s a wonderful idea!”

“Tons of family fun! I know how much you enjoy live music. The lineup is cooler than last year. Cooler freebies. What do you say?”

“I guess.”

I am not in the mood for fun.

“Then it’s settled, we’re going!”

I vowed not to let myself have any fun. An act of protest against the forces that be.