Page 1 of Enigma
Prologue
27 Years Earlier
“You good, bro?” Caleb asked his best friend, Angel.
“I will be once I can get the hell away from them,” he responded, rubbing his knuckles that were bruised from the hell he gave the punching bag at the boxing club he now frequented, referring to his parents.
Angel and I had been friends since we were 12, meeting at a summer basketball camp held at the local Boys and Girls Club. We ended up on the same team and had been brothers since. For as long as I could remember, his parents had always been drunks who took their rage and anger over their shortcomings out on him. Angel was a star athlete and an honors student who was more than likely going to the college of his choice on a full academic or athletic scholarship. Recently, at the age of 15, Angel had forged one of his parents’ signatures to obtain a work permit and had secretly gotten a job at the library as a page to start saving money as we prepared to enter our sophomore year of high school. On days I didn’t have basketball practice, I would come to the library while he was working and we would study and handle any school work we had. Angel was a beast on the track, but he always stressed the importance of education and understanding the world outside of sports. His constant lectures on education caused me to subconsciously refocus my thought process and prioritize knowledge the same way I prioritized making it to the NBA one day. Because of Angel, I had gone from a C+ student at best to an honors student preparing to take college courses in my sophomore year of high school. The improvement in my grades has made me all the more attractive as a recruit to the top colleges in the country.
Unlike Angel, it had been years since his parents held down consistent work due to their inability to navigate life sober, so his father resorted to odd jobs for the local hustlers around his neighborhood. In contrast, his motherresorted to stealing anything from anyone that wasn’t nailed down, which was why Angel had to go behind their backs to get a job. If they knew he was working and making any money, they would take every penny from him to feed their addiction and not think twice about it. I’d gotten my mom to open a bank account for Angel where his paychecks could be direct deposited safely. He trusted his parents so little that Angel refused to even get a debit card or checkbook for the account, opting to only make withdrawals in person when needed and when he knew he’d be spending the money before he went home. Angel had resorted to leaving newly purchased clothes, shoes, and other personal items at my house because he knew his parents would take and sell them for their next cheap bottle of liquor. His parents had never been married because his mother refused to give up her ability to work the system as a recipient of public housing, food stamps, and other government provided assistance and so it pissed his parents off that he believed he was better than his upbringing and didn’t see a future for himself in the streets and dared to dream bigger and go to college wanting to eventually become an attorney.
They wanted fast money to help ease the failures they ended up being in life, but Angel decided long ago that they would continue to suffer if it was up to him to save them. Over the years, they had treated him like a punching bag for their frustrations, sending him to school several times with bruises and busted lips. The school tried unsuccessfully to step in several times but after his parents threatened to pull him from the private school we were was attending on a scholarship, the school backed down not wanting to lose one of their star athletes and scholars, forcing Angel to learn the art of makeup to conceal the visible bruises on his light brown skin and tricks to help reduce the swelling he’d endure at the hands of his parents. Tired of being a punching bag, Angel started taking free self-defense classes at the same Boys and Girls Club where we met, and found the courage to start fighting back against his parents. Angel’s mother, Dawn Adams, had learned to keep her hands to herself after one drunken morning she attempted to assault him with a pot of boiling water, to which she ended up drunkenly knocking on the floor, slipping, twisting her ankle, and falling. Thinking her son was coming to be her knight in shining armor and take her to the hospital, Angel instead picked her up and carried her to the bathroom and hung her on the towel hook on the back of the door by her bra as he told her he hated her and could not wait to see her in the same grave she’d been wishing for his life and left out for school leaving her crying and screaming for help. When he’d gotten home later that day his father Jackson James was drunk and ready to spar, however he was no longer a match for his now not so defenseless son who was equipped with fighting skills and advantages in height, weight, and overall physical skill andability over the 35 year old drunk who’s only nutrition came from a gin bottle. Angel had whooped his father’s ass that night and made sure to tell him that would be the outcome every time he tried to put his hands on him from that day forward.
Realizing they could no longer win physical battles with their son, they resorted to increased mental, emotional, and verbal abuse and manipulation, often times threatening to pull him from Hills Academy, believing in their alcoholic minds that they could ruin their son’s chances of excelling in life. What they didn’t understand was that Angel was destined for greatness and was a star in private school, where he would be an even bigger name in public school, given his scholastic aptitude and speed on the track. Angel never took their threats seriously because his parents were too drunk to ever put forth that much effort for anything besides a bottle.
“Bro, for the life of me, I cannot fathom having kids and treating them like your biggest opposition. I don’t know what life has in store for me, but I know that when I have kids, they’ll never feel ANY of the pain my parents have made me feel.”
Angel and I never held back our feelings, amidst the horror of our upbringings, we opted to take a different path and provide a safe space where vulnerability was welcome. As young black men, we saw what happened when adults lacked emotional intelligence and regulation and vowed to never fall prey to that generational curse.
Doing the one thing I knew would help, I hugged my best friend and uttered our favorite saying to each other, “Sky’s the limit, A, sky’s the mothafuckin limit.”
Our sophomore year had been going exactly as planned, except I had a worrisome ass girlfriend named Dana who spent a great deal of our relationship attempting to argue because she was seemingly insecure. I was either being accused of cheating or attempting to cheat, and I tried to explain to no avail that I could simply be single if I wanted to entertain multiple girls. I had very little time to entertain a gaggle of girls my age when I was working hard to be at the top of my class, guide my team to the state championship, and referee between the dysfunction my parents called a marriage. Not to mention, I was fucking and dodging grown women throwing themselves at me left and right.
“CALEB! Are you even listening to me?!” Dana yelled in my ear, causing me to pull my phone away and look at it to see who the fuck she thought she was talking to.
“Dana,” I sighed loudly so she would catch my irritation as Angel worked on his Organic Chemistry assignment, while I worked on my Calculus homework, “I told you when we first hooked up that my tolerance for relationship drama was nearly non-existent due to my home life, and you told me you understood that, yet almost weekly since you became my girl, we’ve argued about non-existent girls you keep accusing me of fucking or trying to fuck. I liked you better when we were just friends, and if we keep at this pace, I’ll start to dislike you, so I think it’s best we break up,” as I ended the call, pressing end on the cordless house phone.
She immediately started calling back-to-back, to the point where I had to leave the phone off the hook. The doorbell rang, signaling that our classmate Maria had arrived, so we could all study for our Calculus midterm that was quickly approaching. As she walked in, she hugged Angel like they were brother and sister, and stopped just in front of me and put her hand on her hip to talk shit.
“I would hug you, but that crazy girlfriend of yours is probably hiding between the couch cushions, waiting to catch you breathing in another girl’s direction.”
I immediately cracked a smile as I stood to hug her, taking in her casual appearance. She was rocking a pair of Levi’s that hugged her slender but curvy frame, a white Calvin Klein midriff top, a red leather jacket that made her soft, rich brown skin appear even more luxurious, and a pair of KEDS on her feet. Her curly hair was situated in a bun at the top of her pretty head, and her book bag was thrown over one shoulder. She was one of the finest girls at Hills Academy and also one of the most quiet and to herself. Maria had the ability to run the Hills Academy social scene, but instead she opted to be the girl who was nice to everyone, didn’t run in cliques, and was known for the community service she did at the Boys and Girls club as a tutor. She had easily taken to being friends with Angel because, unlike 95% of the boys in our school, he didn’t have underlying motives when it came to being her friend. He wasn’t trying to be her man, get in her pants, or score cool points like the rest of these idiots. Maria was brilliant and kind, and Angel liked to surround himself with people who were smart and kind, so they just clicked.
“Girl, I’m single as a dollar bill, ask Angel,” I smirked.
“Boy, please, you must’ve just broken up with her today, because she was just talking about fighting Sharonda Fletcher for partnering with you for some history project.”
“Ahhhh, he did, she was on her usual Misery bullshit, so Cal broke up with her then took the phone off the hook,” Angel added.
“Where are your parents, Caleb? They don’t mind you having a girl over?”she asked.
“My parents are on yet another ‘Sorry I cheated and got caught again’ cruise,” I answered, the disdain heavy in my voice.
“I would say at least you have parents and aren’t an orphan whose family couldn’t muster enough care and concern to make sure you didn’t end up in the system after your parents were killed in a car accident, so you’re being raised in a group home because nobody adopts teenagers.”
Sadness washed over her whole being, and in that moment, I knew it was God at work bringing us together. Where the families we’d been born into failed us, we now had each other, and that would never change.
Harvard University
“JaJa, I met the finest guy ever on campus today, after I stepped on his Jordans accidentally. I thought he was going to curse my ass out so I started apologizing profusely, and his fine arrogant ass gone say, “It’s all good lil mama, no harm no foul,” and I thought my panties were going to just slide off my body,” I said causing my best friend Ajaih to double over in laughter.
“Not your pussy wanted to apologize bitch,” I hollered.
“And did!” I said.
After getting off the phone with my JaJa, I decided to head to the dining hall and grab some dinner. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and promised myself that I’d keep some snacks with me for the days my class schedule prevented me from grabbing lunch. As a second-year student, you’d think I was more familiar with the campus; however, I was a Biochemistry pre-med major, attending only classes, the gym, and the dining hall. I didn’t make friends easily, especially as an only child, so I told myself that I would use college to spread my wings and be more social. However, truly, nothing mattered more to me than becoming Dr. Layanna Graves.
As I grabbed a tray and a plate, I headed to the salad bar but was stopped in my tracks when I saw the fine ass nigga whose Jordans I stepped on and scuffed up earlier. I hadn’t realized how tall he was earlier, but now, looking from a distance, he was at least 6’3. His complexion reminded me of a cappuccino, where the barista is experienced and understands the perfect ratio of coffee to cream. He rocked a curly taper fade, with curls that looked so soft, I wanted to rub my fingers through them. He rocked a close-shaven beard, glasses, and was dressed in the typical college student uniform, grey sweats, a white Ralph Lauren tee, and Nike slides, in addition to his gold chain and a gold Rolex. He clearly came from money because the average college studentwas not wearing a Rolex on a casual night in the dining hall. As if he felt my eyes on him, he looked directly at me, smiling and started walking my way, causing my nerves to kick in immediately.
