---

 

This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “Three Things” Down in the Dirt, v186 (the August 2021 Issue) Order the paperback book:

Order this writing that appears in the one-of-a-kind anthology Lockdown’s Over the Down in the Dirt May-August 2021 issues collection book		get the 420 page May-August 2021 Down in the Dirt 6" x 9" ISBN# perfect-bound paperback book:

One Hour

Jacob LePretre

    The bus rattled and shook.
    Jamal White sat on the middle seat in a row of five. A woman rocking a baby sat to his left. A man eating a hotdog to his right, mustard splashed his shirt and a cucumber fell from the poppy seed bun.
    Jamal keeps hearing the voice, his brothers, over and over.
    One hour. You can do one hour, right?
    He kept thinking if his brother meant that as a question or a fact. It had been half the day and he still couldn’t tell. The bus came to a halt. This is it.
    One hour.
    Jamal walked to the park. He wanted to light a smoke but knew it would cause conflict. As he got nearer, he saw his brother and his nephew, they swung in the park. Back and forth.
    There he is. Jamal greeted his brother, there was a forced enthusiasm in his voice.
    Derek, you remember Uncle Jamal right?
    His brother motioned at him as if Derek wouldn’t recognize his own blood, though Jamal himself was hardly used to his brother’s appearance and the suits he wore. The fresh haircut, the bright brown shoes, the gold watch, the clean beard.
    So yeah, just stay in the area. One hour. I just got to meet with this guy. Shannon’s out of town so this is a big help, man.
    Yeah, yeah. No problem, brother. I got this, I’ll meet you back here. One hour.
    His brother walked off before he called back one more time, one hour, Jamal, just hang in the area. I’ll see you.
    Jamal took the swing next to Derek. They sat in silence, rocking back and forth, peacefully for some time.
    You hungry?
    Derek shrugged.
    C’mon, let’s go grab a couple dogs.
    They made their way to the .99 cent stand in the corner of the park. They eat sitting on a bench underneath a large oak that casted a cool shade for them.
    So how gave you been Derek? School good?
    The boy nodded.
    What grade are yah in nowadays?
    Seventh.
    Jamal laughed. Seventh grade, man! I remember having some good times in seventh grade. You play sports?
    The boy nodded.
    That’s good too, sports are good for yah. Competition is good for a kid. Teaches yah a lot. Teamwork and all that. Your pops was real good, at anything. It didn’t matter the sport. He was really good, you know that about him?
    The boy shook his head.
    Jamal snickered. Yeah, he was always quiet anyways. What about girls? Are you talking to girls yet?
    Derek smiled before shaking his head no.
    Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, lady killer. Jamal winked at the boy.
    The two laughed as they finished their dogs.
    Let’s start making our way back, don’t want your dad losing his mind. He stopped and thought. I’m happy we got to hang though, Derek. Sorry I haven’t seen yah. Maybe I’ll come by and catch a game sometime.
    The boy nodded his head. Yeah, he said, my dad has my schedule. He knows my schedule. What do you do anyways?
    Jamal stopped and looked at the boy.
    What do you mean?
    Do you work like my dad?
    Oh yeah. Jamal forced an awkward laugh before remembering he could tell this young boy almost anything. Of course I work, he said. I work with my hands, doing whatever, you know. Painting, laying bricks, all that fun stuff. He paused. I guess you could say I fix things.
    The boy looked at his uncle wide eyed as if he never heard of anything as such before. They continued through the park. On the way, Jamal lit the half joint he had from earlier tucked away in his jacket. After some puffs, young Derek looked up at his uncle.
    Can I hit that?
    Now Jamal looked at the boy. Was this a joke? A test? He wasn’t this dumb.
    He looked around and handed the joint to his nephew.
    One hit, only! Your dad would kill me in this very park if he saw.
    His nephew took the joint to his mouth and inhaled and let out a monstrous cough. No one was near in the park, it was a weekday afternoon after all. He handed it back to his uncle.
    Thanks, he puffed out.
    Jamal finished the joint down to the very end before he stamped it out on the ground and threw it into a trashcan, knowing young Derek would be watching.
    Jamal watched Derek. He smiled and danced around like a drunk fool on a wedding night, enjoying life. Enjoying the freedom, as everyone deserves, no matter the age.
    Jamal wondered if the boy was even high. You often don’t your first few times.
    Derek stopped and played with a Terrier puppy as Jamal talks with the owner, she is older.
    Is that your son?
    Oh nah, he’s my nephew. I’m just watching him for my brother, he should be back soon. Jamal looked ahead in the park, almost nervously.
    That’s good for you, he seems like such a nice boy, your brother must be a great dad.
    Yeah, he is.
    The hour had passed and Derek’s father came back to the park. He didn’t notice a thing about his son. He thanked Jamal and they went to leave.
    Hey, maybe we get together sometime, you know me and you. Go for a drink or something.
    His brother turned.
    Or I could catch one of Derek’s games sometime. He tells me he’s quite the athlete. Jamal looked for Derek as if hoping he could take him from this conversation. The boy paid the men no mind.
    His brother laughed. Jamal wasn’t sure at what.
    Derek isn’t in season right now, he said. But yeah, sure, we’ll talk. Thanks again, man. He turned his back and walked away with his son.
    Young Derek turned as the father and son walked away and gave his uncle a small and quick wave. Jamal saluted the boy. The boy smiled at this.
    How important was that one hour, how important for Derek, Derek’s father and Jamal himself. Each for their own different reasons and each will realize this at a different time. Jamal White left the park and made his way back to the bus stop, he needed to come up with a plan before the sun set.
    It was nice out, but Jamal already felt the cold creeping beneath his shirt. It was always cold at night, even in the late summer.

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...