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“No, see, you don't understand why I am the way I am because you can't. I was raised differently. If I tried the stuff you think you are getting away with, I wouldn't have even lived to 21 and still won't see 22. Naw, it's cool because I'm going to live and not die young either way, and we ain't gotta be friends because you see life as just trying to slide by and there ain't no slide except into prison and Hell for young Black men – I just grew up knowing it and you'll find out the hard way.”
21-year-old Melvin Trent clicked off the phone, blocked the number, went through an ugly stall to get to the door of his home studio, and then had an ugly cry when there alone over another high school friend choosing to get lost with so much of their generation.
Melvin had always stayed to himself – massive musical talent and the willingness to be in and out of practice rooms and learning all manner of the studio from people his father, Sgt. Vincent Trent, vetted for character, had always set him apart. Strong parenting, strong grandparenting, strong mentorship, strong encouraging of his gifts had spared him from being pulled in. Roughly the same thing had happened for his almost-18-year-old sister Vanna, and they thought it was hilarious for all three of their living grandparents to be in the house and hear their little siblings Velma (11), Milton (9), and Gracie (8) going on about “Oh, we are not allowed to do stupid stuff!” with their equally disciplined grandparent-raised friends the Ludlow little ones next door.
“Sounds familiar!” Vanna said as she and Melvin cracked up about it.
But in the process of coming of age, what Melvin and Vanna were both discovering was that their friends were becoming quite different … broken families, parents and grandparents caught up in their own problems … the world system's deep corruption beckoning with the solace of pride, pleasure, and prejudice … and with Covid-19 and everyone with time on their hands, people were becoming who they had been raised, or not raised, to be.
But the thing Melvin found hard to deal with what was discovering how envious people he thought were friends actually were. With maturity as a young person, he had realized a lot of people had hung around him because of downstream benefits of being with him – not that the Trents were rich, but Melvin knew how to get things done relative to his age, and how to find resources, and how to get into good situations. His friends hung on, and he, being a good big brother to his own siblings, extended it to his friends and did not think anything of that until Covid-19, and his father's decision to move them back to his home in Lofton County, VA.
Melvin had adjusted well – the family had always been visiting grandparents and other elders and Melvin was close to all of them – but no one had come to rescue his friends. Having a dad, having grandparents, having a refuge to go to – it was cool as long as the friends could benefit from it – but as soon as Melvin was out of sharing those downstream benefits, all the resentment came out.
Vanna and Melvin's grandfather, Mr. Thomas Stepforth Sr., had seen Melvin come to the studio door, and they just waited, not needing to say anything to each other about what they were going to do because they had talked about this on another occasion.
“So, the data we are getting,” Vanna said, “suggests that Melvin is more likely to be killed by his own former friends than anyone else, and this happens 25 times a day in the Black community. We didn't even understand how this even happens until we moved down here – I mean, the envy and the hate is off the chart.
“The same thing was true when I was your age, and you'll find similar things in historically oppressed communities – if you don't feel you can punch up, you'll punch across, and down,” Mr. Stepforth said. “Your father had Melvin and you in mind – because your friends are likely to perish 4-5 times a day from Melvin's former friends – when he decided to get into the Veteran's Lodge for housing. You never know the friends you have until they can't live a better life at your expense any more.”
“And none of them even know you're a billionaire,” Vanna said, shaking her head.
“It's not even that complicated,” the grandparent said. “The rage against God and the world when a child is wired to have two parents at least, and some grandparents, and can't have that, and then sees other people who have those things they need but can't have – this stirs up the worst of human nature, early in life. I see the older four Ludlow grandchildren dealing with this – that's why Edwina is so mad, but also is healing because Capt. and Mrs. Ludlow are going the extra mile to step up, and Col. and Mrs. Lee are staying and filling the parent-age gap. That doesn't happen for most people. Most people also don't have amicable divorces, so, your parents are rare, and, well, your Grandma Velma is just a very special person, too.”
“So are you, Pop-Pop,” Vanna said, “because there must have been women lining up for you in your divorced years, ready to be bought off the market.”
“Yep – that's called immediate disqualification,” he said, with a grim chuckle. “I never was into that – even in the years I wasn't getting along with your mother and aunts, I knew all y'all were looking and what I would do if any man tried to buy you up to exploit and mistreat you. Gotta maintain a high standard.”
“Which is why we have high standards, too,” Vanna said.
“Exactly,” Mr. Stepforth said.
Melvin opened the door and was happily surprised to walk into his sister and his grandfather's arms.
“It doesn't get easier to be an upright man,” Mr. Stepforth said, “but we've got you, Melvin.”
