Blend

RECOVERY

IF THERE'S anything I've learned about Time, it's that it's too damn short. We spend our whole lives worrying over shit. Trying to become the somebody that society's convinced us is normal. All while scared we're gonna be the wrong thing, push away the right people. And in the end, we return to dust alone. Regrets, grudges, what-ifs—none of that matters when the Light takes us away.

It didn't for Peewee.

Won't for me, either.

Devyn holds my hand as we walk into the police station. We stand strong together, heads held high. A detective waits with water bottles and crackers. We even get a standing ovation from the cops milling about. No doubt Peewee's dad came through on his promise in making sure I'm treated better this time around.

It takes an hour for them to close out my case. They ask me and Devyn questions and I can tell they want to pry more into the how. Like, how did Devyn really know I was innocent? Why did Crawley, a veteran officer with a history of being tough on brown-skinned people, help me out of jail?

The truth is that I wish every wrongfully accused person had a Devyn and Peewee to help them get justice too. But we all know my case is the exception, not the norm. So it'll be up to people like me to set the record straight. To get people questioning our justice system.

How many others are bound to their cells, because they don't have anyone looking out for them? How many are sitting in cells, because they're worth thousands of dollars in a greedy system? How many Black dudes are serving years for small drug possession charges—their entire futures now ruined? How many of them are there because they're homeless? And what about the ones that don't speak English, that crossed the border to see their kids? 

Sometimes I get so overwhelmed thinking about the injustice in our justice system that I no longer want to care anymore. But that doesn't make it any less true. Or any less of a problem in America. Or any less painful.

When my case is officially closed, I get an in-person apology from the warden and chief, a pat on the back, and a semi-genuine promise that their department will do better in the future.

Devyn folds her arms, clearly not appeased. I say nothing, knowing that these guys haven't seen the last of me. I will make it my business to keep around here, ensuring they do their jobs right. 'Cause that's how things will actually change. Accountability. And it's up to the community to make that accountability happen. 

Before we leave, we make a statement to the press and drive back to Unc's. The whole ride is quiet. I can tell Devyn is sorely missing Peewee and I'm still trying to make sense of where I go from here.

Being an athlete means I'm no stranger to soreness. Usually after a game, I'll do everything I'm supposed to. Stretch, compress, ice. Take it easy. But the whole reason soreness exists is for my own protection. To keep me from injuring myself further because my body just experienced trauma.

The next couple of months, I'm going to be really sore. All metaphorical, of course. It'll be there to remind me of what happened and what still continues to happen. And it will spur me to look out for others who land in similar predicaments.

The good news is that Devyn and I are in this together. We've both been radically changed by this experience. I already feel for her way more than I ever have for any girl. She will always give me her whole self. I will do the same in return.

There's a long road ahead for us. Devyn has to face what it'll mean to live out her gift the same way her aunt does. She wants to make things right for those reluctant to move on. And she knows that demon will be back to bully her—especially now that Peewee is gone. But she's ready for him. She won't be scared anymore. I see it in her eyes and it makes me proud of the woman she's becoming.

As for me, I'm going to remember that Time is what sets me free, not burdens me. We're all set to die one day. It's what we do with the time we're given that matters. I know two things: I won't be silent and I won't ignore the issues that affect my friends and family—my community. Whether I die tomorrow or eighty years from now, it's all the same to me. No more blending in just to keep society ignorant. No more turning a blind eye to injustice. Truth is the road to change. 

- THE END -