For dinner, upon his dad’s return, Brian made meatballs and spaghetti and served chocolate ice cream with homemade strawberry syrup for dessert. They sat in the tiny kitchen and spoke with only their eyes.
After they pushed plates away, Dad asked, “What?”
“I feel I’m letting you down.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“And you’re a real man, a real black manly-man, and I’m a wimp.”
“Son, don’t buy into stereotypes. I’ve told you that before. We all have to seek our own level. We were born as we are and that can’t be changed. I’m big and dumb, you’re small and smart.”
One comment cut Brian. “You’re not dumb.”
“Never graduated high school.”
“That doesn’t make you dumb. Am I adopted or something?” He shocked himself with the question.
Dad chuckled as he brought his plate to the sink. “Yeah, somet
