Clean-up, part 6

‘You’ve got to tell the police.’ I said.

Nathan looked at me in a way that reminded me so much of his father I caught my breath. I knew what he was going to say before he said it.

‘No. Mum. I’m black,’ he said slowly, ‘no.’

‘Honey–’

‘Shut up, Mum.’

We were quiet. Nathan’s father and I had fought about race: my misunderstanding of ethnic inequality. At the start of our relationship, I was convinced I did understand, and repeatedly refused to see the battles I never had to fight. When we went away on holiday, I would get angry with him for being lazy. When he found it difficult to work the bureaucratic system, I blamed him for his inefficiency. He had to explain to me that when he didn’t join in on hikes with my white friends, it was because he was sick of people crossing the street when they saw him. He had to explain to me that when he went into the same admin offices as I did, the staff turned him away at the first missing document.

I looked back at Nathan.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

‘You never understand.’

‘Why don’t I try phoning the school? Miss Barns really likes you.’

‘Miss Barns?’

‘Yes, Miss Barns,’

‘Yeah, do you think on the next field trip she’ll sing a song for me?’

‘Don’t be sarcastic,’

‘Oh yeah, you and Miss Barns, taking on racial prejudice—why don’t you get capes?’

‘Head teacher, then?’

’Yeah, ‘cause he’s not racist at all,’ he paused, ‘Mum. None of this will help.’

Sometimes, the only way to get away from a conversation is to stream videos of cats walking into doors. Nathan showed me a podcast about an astronaut whose dream had been to go to Mars.

On my drive home, I called my ex-husband, Ayodele. I told him what had happened to Nathan, and told him about my plan to report the boys to the police, or get testimony from Isaac. I told him what Nathan had said, how it had reminded me of the days when he and I used to fight. I told him I was scared for Nathan, and wanted to protect him.

‘Yeah,’ he sighed. ‘All people are going to hear is that a black boy attacked white boys for drugs.’

‘But,’

‘Don’t tell the police. Nothing will happen to those other kids and they’ll make his life hell. He’ll be the one considered violent and dangerous. Prime suspect for every crime.’

‘But I could–’

‘I’ve seen this happen before. Just let it go.’

‘I want to help.’

‘But you don’t. There is nothing you can do to protect him.’