gangbangers?”
“Why, we’re white,” my father said. “This doesn’t change that.”
Homer spit into his cup. “Sure as hell doesn’t.”
“Does being white mean nothing?” I said.
Neither of them spoke and I was left with my own question. I had known how to answer it once. Now, no words leapt to my lips.
Finally, I said the only thing I was certain on. “I did not spend two years risking my life to help arm a drug cartel.”
“Calix,” my father clapped my shoulder. “We all admire your discipline. It is a true asset to our organizations and to the white cause. But we must gain power to spread our message. As long as this mongrel nation stands, the color with power is not white, but green.”
“And we’re talking a whole lot of green with this plan,” Homer said. “It wouldn’t be on the table otherwise.”
I could see the green. His blue eyes had turned to dollar bills.
“Is this what you want Mom to see,” I said. “If she looked down, would she like what this family has become?”
My father twitched with sudden rage. I had never crossed this line. I had never had reason to.
“Your mother…” he started. “Was a gentle woman. She was not made to withstand the cruelties of this world. We both saw that. She might not have been able to see through to true cause of her murder, perhaps. But we can not let her softness dull what we seek to accomplish in her name. This entire family-”
He stopped and corrected himself. “You and I have a mission that extends beyond what we do this day or month or even year. We must open our eyes to all the paths before us and choose the one with the best overall outcome. Do not invoke your mother’s name in a curse, just to cloud us from your stubbornness.”
I quietly sipped at my tea. Homer had the sense not to speak.
Once, it had been so clear that all of this was done with righting the wrong of my mother’s death. My father’s words had rung true in my years when I was young. They had been a welcome melody even after I came back from Afghanistan.
Now, I saw just how easily he could twist his words to sell a ride down the wrong road.
“Well I’m not going to be involved in transporting any more of your drugs,” I said. “I went along with what you asked because I thought I didn’t understand. It turns out I understood just fine. I have too much to lose for this.”
Homer sat up straight. “Does the army suspect anything?” he asked. “Have they been trying to dig into you.”
“No.”
“That’s good.”
“So what’s my purpose then?” I asked my father. “What is there left for me to do?”
“Just stay on the path you are on,” he said, his voice soothing once more. “The weapons you provide are extremely useful. There is no doubt on that. Your position within the military structure is highly advantageous to us. Do everything you can to keep it and keep those supplies coming.”
I sank in my chair and nodded. I was being marginalized. I was actually grateful for it. I didn’t want a part of this new path they were forging.
I had no energy for more fights. In fact, sleep seemed entirely preferable.
“I’m going to get some rest upstairs.” I gulped the rest of the tea and shoved to my feet.
“Good call, brother,” Homer said. “You’ve earned it.”
I opened the screen door. A hand landed on my wrist. I looked down to my father.
“Sleep easy, my boy,” he said. “You are our righteous sword, and we need you. But keep an open mind.”
I stared unblinking then continued in. In my head, I pictured sheathing myself in Rosa over and over.
Oh, my mind had opened. I wasn’t sure what remained inside.
I dropped the glass off and headed for my bedroom. As I walked up the stairs, I passed frame after frame of photos. Many were big ones of my mother smiling alone or with my father or holding a much younger me. Other frames held a dozen pictures in each window.
Many of the slots on these smaller ones lay empty. In