Me, You, and Mason

27

Sage honored his word and explored the option of a career in landscaping. At least for now.

The future was uncertain— and there was no telling how long he'd stay under the claw of his father— but until it became just a bit clearer, the grind of a blue-collar man was priority.

"Guess that dreamin' thang ain't workin' out while you're awake, huh?" His father chuckled.

The two were in Oakton, affluence flourishing through greenery and stone. Homes had columns and pillars, backyards were abundant with foliage, and the people were nice— nice enough.

And in the midst of such southern elegance stood a group of Black and Brown men, glistening in all of their beauty. The early August humidity was suffocating, and with a glitter of grass muffling the clean air, the scent of hard work wafted high and heavy.

Amongst the small team of laborers was Sage and his father. Clad in long garments and protective gear, they were hot and ailing for a break. With the last of a lawn ready to be manicured, the two swapped tools while the other crew members began loading equipment into trucks.

With the ruckus of engines and blades paused, Sage saw the perfect opening for his business proposal: to join the company full-time.

With laughter being the first thing out of his father's mouth, it didn't seem like a great start.

"Come on, Pop," Sage kissed his teeth while taking hold of a weed wacker.

"Ah, I'm just messin'," his father, tall and dark, firmly patted Sage's shoulder.

Sage leaned against the side of the riding lawn mower he'd just dismounted.

His father added, "Just never thought I'd see the day."

"Why not? I work for you sometimes anyway. What's a few more jobs?"

"A few? Son, you askin' to be full time. That's more than just a few. You might be used ta' comin' and goin' as you please, but this is my legacy, boy. This is a business that don't move unless we move it wit' our bare hands. That takes real commitment. I don't think you ready for nothin' like that."

Sage scoffed. "What makes you think that?"

" 'Cuz you only call when you need an extra check."

Sage was quick at the draw to respond, but his father fired off before he could.

"Trust me, son. I admire you pickin' up extra work, and my nerves thank you for not just expectin' me to just hand my money over to ya'.

"However, I ain't gon' make nothin' easy for ya'— not when I got dudes that's been here longer, more consistently, and can actually get some weeds outta concrete," he nodded with finality.

"Well, I'm down to work. I'm down to prove it. I done got my hands dirty before. I know how to use some Round-Up," Sage argued.

"It ain't about'cha work ethic. It's about consistency. Discipline. You can do the work, but can you do it multiple days— long days? That's what I'm lookin' for. Sound body, solid mind," his father tapped his temple, knocking against his tinted, protective goggles in doing so.

Sage muttered, figuring he'd have to show his father just what he was made of. He loved proving people wrong anyway.

His father mounted the seat of the mower with a rough huff. "What'chu askin' me this fa' anyway? Ken done flew the coop, so now you comin' to me?"

"Not exactly," Sage shook his head, wondering how he even knew of Kenrō's absence.

His father continued, "Ya' know, folks is startin' to talk. Losin' hope about dat boy. I'm just glad you wasn't wit' him..."