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( CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: WE NEED A RESOLUTION ) September, 1990
❝ I want to be with you. ❞
◯
Banners and ribbons were splattered across the neighbourhood, which made Devon's mood elevate just a little bit more. The late afternoon light was darkening into a murky blue as night fell upon Harlem, commencing the start of the local fundraiser. Devon was in lighter spirits as of late, even if he wasn't completely out of his self-depreciating state.
However, progress was progress, and Devon chose to handle it by blocking it out completely. Hopefully by that logic, if he ignores the pain, then it will pass. "Put 'em here boys!" Devon's uncle commanded, once again getting TJ and Devon to carry heavy boxes over to the stand that he had set up for the fundraiser.
Devon's mother was selling her famous baked goods to raise a little more money, and Devon felt obligated to help. That meant setting up the stall before the fundraiser began, which also meant carrying all the cooking equipment, boxes and desserts to the park where all would be held. "Why ain't you carrying anything?" TJ whined over to his uncle, who's thick, hammy arms weren't carrying a single thing.
"Because he's lazy," Devon grunted, laying the heavy box on the grassy ground. Several other stalls were being set up around them, and the trees had lights peppered in the leaves and branches, decorating the night with starry embers.
"Hey, I ain't lazy, I just got sensitive skin," Devon's uncle defensively said, and the young man looked at him with a raised brow. "You boys shouldn't be complaining, you're young and full of energy," the older man said again, and Devon fought in his need to laugh, "Dev is a damn dancer, he has more energy in his pinky finger than I do in my fat ass body."
"C'mon unc, you ain't fat, you just big-boned," Devon said, approaching the man with a mischievous grin plastered on his face. Devon's uncle gave him a playful nudge in response, not finding the young man's remark amusing, "Uh-huh," the older man said, "Get back to work you two." Fighting off his laughter, Devon proceeded to unload the boxes that were filled with many sweet treats and baked goods.
He placed each platter on the table in front of the stall, making sure that they were on grand display for everyone else to see. "Hey Dev," Devon's uncle said, trudging up to the young man with a solemn look on his face, "Are you okay?"
"Of course I am," Devon replied, shooting his family member a skeptical look. "Don't lie to me," the older man said, seeing right through Devon's brave front, "We're family, I know you." The young man's jaw clenched as he tried not to roll his eyes. He knew his uncle meant well, and he probably noticed Devon's pending misery shining through his saddened brown eyes like a stained glass mirror. However, the young man didn't wanted to talk about his feelings, not when those same feelings almost destroyed him in the process.
