One Blood

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

24 years later

1998

Houston, TX

Amir Barber paused just outside of room 311 in the Houston Medical Center, preparing himself for what he would see when he pushed through the door. He rubbed his boot camp bald head compulsively. When he felt ready, he entered his mother’s suite with a nervous smile.

Dear God.

Amir gazed down at his mother in the aftermath of her stroke. Always the picture of strength, Juanita had degenerated into a muddy puddle, waiting for the sun’s rays to evaporate her into nothing. He whispered a silent oration to Ogou Balanjo, the Vodun spirit of healing, and set the flowers down on the nightstand.

Kissing her clammy forehead, he sat down in the chair next to the bed, clasping her hands in his own. Amir traced his fingers over the faded scar on her left wrist. He’d always wondered about how she’d gotten it and had sworn to himself he’d protect her against future harm. But he’d failed again.

I never should have left home.

Amir knew these thoughts were useless and unproductive. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what might have been if he’d stayed home after graduating from the University of Houston last year. Instead, he took his shiny new degree and enlisted in the Army as a Communication Operations Officer. He vividly recalled the look of betrayal in his mother’s eyes when he told her of his plans. Dad’s reaction had been predictably aloof.

* * * * *

“This is something I need to do for me, Dad,” Amir said, as he and his father rested in the Kempo Dojo after their workout. Dad was still slightly out of breath. Amir realized for the first time his father was getting old.

They were seated in front of a large mirror. Amir compared his twenty-two-year-old frame to that of his father’s. His father’s skin was dark and course, Amir’s fair and smooth. Amir’s skin tone was the only physical trait he’d gotten from his mother. Other than that, he was the spitting image of his father. “You know I was in the service, right?” Dad asked.

Amir nodded. He knew all about his father’s tour of duty in ‘Nam. Anticipating his father’s next words, he said, “Dad, I know you always tell me that the Army is no place for the black man, but just hear me out, okay? I’m not some dumb eighteen-year-old kid. I went to college, just like you asked me to.” Amir swallowed his fear and continued the speech he’d been practicing for a week. “But if you hadn’t joined the Army, you never would have discovered Vodun, right? So in a way, it was a positive experience for you. And you recruited your men over there in Vietnam, so had you not gone, the Black Mob probably wouldn’t exist either. Shoot, you and Mom might never have gotten together.” Knowing his father’s one soft spot, Amir saved this point for last.

“That’s not fair,” Dad replied. “You know me and your mother are going through a rough time.”

“Believe me, I know, Dad. But once I go away to boot camp she will be all alone and she’ll need you. Ya’ll can get back together.”

“Don’t change the subject. This is about you, not me. You want to join the white man’s army. You want to die defending a country that does not give a damn about your people. You want to be a pawn…when I raised you to be a king.”

“You don’t understand, Dad. I read the book.” Amir watched his father’s good eye squint in anger as it usually did whenever anyone mentioned Inside the Black Mob, the unauthorized book written about his life and work. His father had maintained for years that one day he would write his own account and set the record straight.