RideShare Confessions

Alright, is this thing on? Cool, alright, cool. Um, I guess, what’s up, Youtube? I’m not even sure if amateur vlogging is still a thing or if anyone will watch a black gay guy on the internet, but here I go. Shoot, is this my “My Coming Out” video already? Nah. I mean, the story I want to tell you all is basically me coming out in more ways than one.

Anyway, yeah. So, I’m not sure if this is going to be a regular thing, depends on how well this video does. As you can probably guess from the title, I drive for [company redacted]. These are my stories. Well, one of them, at least.

This actually happened three days ago, but it’s been on my mind all weekend. It must have been around 8:12 at night. Actually yeah, I’m checking my profile now. I picked this white girl up; excuse me, I picked up this drunk white woman. I’d guess she was fresh outta college or a couple years out cause she had definitely been pregaming but by herself which I found a little weird, but she also seemed to be headed over to a friend’s house from the address I was driving to.

So, she gets in my Honda Civic, backseat - thank God - and lets out this long burp that smells like Bud Light. I, too, have low standards for alcohol consumption. I know my stuff. Then she goes, “Oh my god, you’re gay. I love you. I feel safer already.” For a second I’m wondering how she figured I was gay, then I remembered I have a freaking rainbow flag keychain hanging from my rearview mirror. So I just smile into the mirror and say, “Yeah, yeah, I am.”

I’m hoping that’d be the end of it, but obviously I’m telling you this story for a reason. “I’ve never met a gay black guy before. Can you vogue?” She lives in this city and hasn’t been around enough black people that one of them’s gay, but she knows enough about us to ask me a dumb question like that? I blame Madonna. ...and yeah, of course I can vogue. Very well, no, so don’t ask me to do so in the comments, because I’m never gonna drink and vlog for ya’ll.

I try ignoring her by discreetly turning up the volume from my steering wheel hoping Ariana Grande would distract her, but she wasn’t drunk enough to start carpool karaoking. “I mean, can you? Cause I follow vogueclips on Instagram, and I feel like I’ve seen you on there.” Racist ass… “Naw, I’ve never been on there; don’t really go out like that.” That’s a lie, but I’m not tryna connect with her. Then she says, “That’s a shame. I’d love to see your sexy ass on a dancefloor sometime. Me and my friends are going to the Rockwell tonight. You should totally join us.” My Honda almost stopped like a record scratch. White girl say wha’?

I go, “Oh honey. No, no. I gay, me no bi, mami.” I’m just gonna apologize to all my Latinx viewers; that’s just how it came out. Papi at the corner store is just very influential over my speech pattern on occasion. But she didn’t even notice, she just goes says, “Yeah, but all my gay guy friends have slept with me. Like, only two of them said they liked it, but I don’t know, gay guys are usually just drawn to me, you know?”

“Well, I’m good. Also, I’m married.” Which isn’t a lie. See, kiss the ring, bitches! Maybe I’ll have him on sometime. Again depends on how well this goes.

Do you know what this lady responded with? “I don’t see what that has to do with anything?” Do white women have a stereotype of being homewreckers that I missed, or is she a special case?

I didn’t even want to look at her by this point, but then I hear her unlock her seatbelt. Next thing I know, I feel her breath on my neck. I flinch, but before I can get away, she starts sucking on my neck. Ya’ll, I can’t even lie to ya’ll, it felt oddly good. Maybe she actually had a secret talent for turning gay men. Maybe she was created in a lab by republicans. I may never know, cause then she bit into my neck and I could feel her starting to break the skin. So, I pinch my head to my shoulder to break free.

“Can you not? I’m actually Positive.” And that’s when she lost it. She yelled at me for me to stop the car and started calling me all kinds of names I can’t remember. But I let her out about five minutes from her friend’s place. “I can’t believe you tried to kill me, you freaking AIDS monkey,” and then she slammed the car. I didn’t even know people still spoke like that, but leave it to white people to surprise you with a vintage slur. Ya’ll it took a lot for me not to get out that car and give her a piece of my mind, but we were definitely in the white part of town, and I didn’t want to risk being the next name ya’ll chant. So I gave her one star and kept it moving.

Some of ya’ll might be asking why I didn’t report her? Honestly, it’s not a big deal. People freak out. I get it. They think HIV and AIDS are still death sentences. For real, there was a time in my life when I would have freaked out like that, too. Maybe I did freak out like that. But there’s so many steps and meds out there now. I could prob do another video just on that. But I ain’t a doctor; I’m just a driver. Maybe I’ll see you around. Til then, peace.

The Return of Procrast I. Nation

Looking out of her window, listening to Witch’s Brew by Miles Davis, Mona sipped whiskey and coke out of an old amusement park Lemonade cup. She wasn’t feeling quite her baddest-bitch-self that evening. Sure, she’d spent the weekend gallivanting about town with her friends and spending time in strange men and women’s beds, but that wasn’t the part of her that felt neglected. Mona turned her head over her shoulder and regarded her room. Most of her belongings were still in bags and boxes. She had only bothered to unpack her clothes and hang them in the closet so she’d have her full arsenal of evening wear to choose from. Her drink starting to hit her, she bent down to open the box closest to her having forgotten what it contained. She let out a squeal, relieved it was something that wouldn’t motivate her to unpack any more. With a twirl, she knocked a beanbag off the stack of five in the corner onto the floor and plopped down to reread the first volume of Scott Pilgrim.

A shadowy figure resembling Mona’s outline peered out from behind her closet door and smiled. With her room still a mess, the figure knew she’d have difficulty being productive by any stretch of the imagination. As Mona continued to read and drink, the figure drew closer and began to suck the drive out of her. By the end of the night, Procrast was certain she’d have her claws deep within Mona’s back once again.

GLAM

On the planet Glam, we don’t subscribe to your labels, only to our own. On the planet Glam, men dress like your women and women dress like your men. On the planet Glam, we beat our faces until they look nothing like our own, softening cheekbones, pencilling mustaches. On the planet Glam, we bind our chest and draw on cleavage. On the planet Glam, we allow read each other for filth and help our sisters and brothers better their crafts. On the planet Glam, we celebrate all styles: fishy, masc, campy, douchey, geeky, spooky, pageantry, and more. On the planet Glam, we compete to see who can be the most convincing, the most entertaining, the most boundary-breaking. On the planet Glam, we compete year round. On the planet Glam, we crown a new winner every year. On the planet Glam, we welcome you, outsider, to join our tradition. On the planet Glam, we invite you to stay with us the entire orbit around our star RuPaul. On the planet Glam, we anticipate how you’ll genderfuck us all. On the planet Glam, we await your androgyny.

BGN (Board Gaming Network)

INT. MOUNTAIN DEW STADIUM, SPORTSCASTER BOOTH - NIGHT

Two sportscaster are dresses in red, yellow, and black business casual attire. They are seated on opposing sides of a L-shaped metallic table with a 63’ monitor behind each of them. The BGN and C4A logos are sandwiched between the screens.

MELANIE

Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen. This is the C4A Championship Round on the Board Gaming Network, your place for all official broadcasts of all your favorite board and card game matches. I’m Melanie Martinez.

FLIP

And I’m Flip Fistaker. In case you haven’t been following our coverage all day, here’s what you missed.

[Infographics and stats appear on the monitor behind him]

In the qualifier rounds this morning, newcomer Tunechi Yamato wiped out veteran after veteran channeling his grandmother Jun Yamato’s legendary chinese checkers skills only to be beaten his cousin Hero Wasabi in the top 16.

MELANIE

That’s right, but Wasabi didn’t get much further than that. In the quarterfinal round, his opponent was able to stomach the spicy full flavor of his moves and spit something hot back at him. Everyone was pulling for this family to make it to the final stage, but it just wasn’t in the Yugioh Decks for them.

FLIP

You could say they didn’t “have the heart of the cards” within them.

MELANIE

[chuckling] That’s right, Flip, because they’re playing with what are essentially checker pieces. Now let’s go to the arena and see who actually made it to the grand fight.

EXT. MOUNTAIN DEW STADIUM, MAIN ARENA - NIGHT

The stadium resembles one used for baseball, but the diamond is replaced with a 24 sq ft platform with a wooden table and two plush chairs perfectly centered on it. The standard Connect 4 board is on the table, red and yellow circles stacked neatly on either side. Spotlights shine down, with more following the players as the enter. In the stands, the crowd roars.

FLIP (V.O.)

Up first, we have Manhattan’s own lord of Central Park, Andre “Stack ‘Em” Drake.

[Andre walks out to “Oh Boy” by Cam’ron. He’s wearing a pink fur coat that he throws off halfway to the platform, revealing tailored overalls studded “Stack Em’” and no shirt. The crowd goes wild.]

Two time C4A Champion and truly the showboat of the Association, Drake is known not only for stacking his pieces before every match but also for only winning vertically. He’s purposely forgone winning horizontally and caused stalemates. If it’s not up and down, yo boi Drake doesn’t want it.

MELANIE (V.O.)

[to Flip] I really wish you’d stop that.

[to the audience] But his opponent is no joke either, it’s John “JJ” Johnson!

[JJ walks out to “Bye Bye Bye” by N*SYNC. He’s chosen to perform choreography from the video instead of advancing plainly to the platform. By the time he arrives, he is out of breath.]

JJ has been in the Association for five years with this being is first time advancing all the way to the Finals. You can tell how excited he is to be here. Just looks at those moves and his cute little butt in those jeans as he grooves.

INT. MOUNTAIN DEW STADIUM, SPORTSCASTER BOOTH - NIGHT

FLIP

That’s right. BGN: the place for all your unbiased commentary.

MELANIE

Drake won the coin flip backstage and has chosen to go second, a smart move as he’ll be able to make the first move after JJ determines the landscape. Let’s go back down and watch the action unfold.

EXT. MOUNTAIN DEW STADIUM, MAIN ARENA - NIGHT

Andre and JJ take turns dropping piece after piece into the plastic receptacle as Flip and Melanie react. After Andre refuses to drop a fourth piece in what could win him the game horizontally, JJ drops his piece into the same slot and wins the game.

FLIP (V.O.)

Oh my lanta, ladies and gentlemen, JJ Johnson has played Andre Drake for the arrogant fool that he is. Never in all my days did I expect Drake to actually hold that true to his playing style, let alone fall for such a trick. We have a new C4A Champ, and he’s a scrawny white kid from Chicago!

INT. MOUNTAIN DEW STADIUM, SPORTSCASTER BOOTH - NIGHT

MELANIE

My sweetie JJ joins the ranks of not only Andre “Stack ‘Em” Drake himself but also Taylor “Swift” Anderson, Terrence “Tip It” Tippett, and Hector “High 5” Noreaga, the 5-time record holding champion who won every final’s tournament by connecting five! We go back to the field with Jolissa Smith for a post game interview with JJ. Jolissa.

EXT. MOUNTAIN DEW STADIUM, MAIN ARENA - NIGHT

JOLISSA

Thanks, Melanie. I’m here with John “JJ” Johnson who just won his first championship Connect 4 match. JJ, tell us, as a kid from the southside of Chicago, how does it feel?

JJ

Oh well, you know, gosh, man. I just wanna say thanks to my momz for always believing in me and my dad for lea--

[A streaker runs by Jolissa and JJ breaking his focus.]

FLIP (V.O.)

Gotdammit. Well folks, you know it happens every year: some fan gets by our lax security and runs naked across the field. Now, you see, if they’d do it in costumes, I wouldn’t mind it as much.

MELANIE (V.O.)

Oh, this is just fine by me. But let’s give our censors a break this year. For BGN, I’ve been Melanie Martinez.

FLIP (V.O.)

And I’ve been Flip Fistaker. Join us tomorrow night when we’ll be broadcasting the First Annual DC Deck Building Tournament at 8, preceded by What the Hell is This Game? at 7 hosted by Chet Mezzerro.

MELANIE (V.O.)

Til then, be easy.

[The camera pans out on the stadium as we see the streaker tackled by an angry Andre Drake back in his pink fur coat.]

Rescue Epilogue

The skyline over Bedford-Stuyvesant is a wispy mix of dark blues, oranges, and pinks as The Velkline hovers and shines two beams of light over a vacant rooftop. Alexandra floats down one, Fletima down the other. Once they land on the roof, Fletima waves off the ship until it’s once again behind a cloud. Alexandra unlocks the door to the stairwell, which only takes unraveling the rope through a crack in the door. “Where are you going,” Fletima asks, walking towards her friend, but Alexandra motions that she’ll be right back.

Fletima acknowledges the command and falls back as the human disappears downstairs. She leans against the fence that was installed three years ago to deter suicide attempts, her skin as purple as someone who’d died from autoerotic asphyxiation. Their mission to rescue Xavier from the Jovians should have ended in their deaths, but Alexandra’s negotiation tactics were unworldly. Though Fletima was still a little upset Alexandra hadn’t offered up her own hair, rubbing her bald head as the evening breeze swept in.

“It doesn’t look that bad,” Alexandra returned with two lawn chairs, a six pack of beer, and a snapback under her arms. “Here. Put this on.” Fletima places the hat on her head backwards. Alexandra can’t tell if she did it on purpose stylistically or out of ignorance. “This is a look. It actually goes great with your tan jumpsuit.” She stretches out the lawn chairs, and they both take the seats. “Crap, I forgot the bottle opener.”

“Allow me,” Fletima snatches a bottle out of the packaging on the floor between them and phases the cap off, handing it to her companion. She repeats the process, clinks bottles with her, and takes a long gulp.

“Thirsty? Maybe I should have brought up another six pack.”

“No, this’ll be fine. I like how hoppy this one is.” Fletima stares at the label; the cartoon camel seems to be daring her to speak up. “I really appreciated your help.”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I help rescue your captain? It’s the least I could do after all you’ve done for me.” Alexandra places her hand on the Martian’s lap.

“That’s why I asked if we could come back to your place for the night. I… I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

“Oh?” Alexandra leans back, crossing her arms and sipping her beer. She shakes her long blonde hair out of her face to get a better look at Fletima.

“I don’t want to rush into anything. You’re great, truly amazing. I never met anyone who can make me laugh harder or hold a handstand longer than you. I just feel like it would be wrong to string you along. I’m sorry.” She takes another gulp of beer.

There’s a bit of a silence as they look into the shifting night sky, the navies and the cobalts beginning to chase away the tangerines and the corals. Alexandra reaches down for another two IPAs. She waits for her fuckbuddy to perform her phasing trick before she finishes the last of her first beer.

“I know you don’t want to hurt me. That’s why you think you’re gonna do, right?” Fletima doesn’t respond. “I wouldn’t have started anything with you if I wasn’t ready to be hurt. Shit, maybe I want to be. It’d be a whole new adventure for me. So stop being afraid of that. And I know you don’t know where you’ll end up. You could stay here in the City or be called away to Seattle or you could move back home or stay with the crew. I haven’t decided if I want to return to my old life or fly around the System more, myself. There’s no reason why we can’t just keep having fun. I don’t need a label; not yet anyway.”

Half of the Martian’s second beer is already gone. “It’s more than that. I’m still figuring myself out, if I’m actually interested in Xavier. I seriously doubt it, but it’s the way things are supposed to be.”

“You’re just looking for an excuse not to have feelings for an Earthling now.”

“I can’t say I’m not, yes.”

Alexandra resists the urge to hug her, bouncing her leg instead. She takes another sip and sighs. “As beautiful as Jupiter was, nothing beats this skyline. Just the right amount of nature and smog to make this the perfect sight.”

“We really should do something about all this pollution. Where’s that one blue fellow your planet used to call on?” Fletima asks.

“Those rings have been lost for at least a decade. Someone should really find them. You’re right, though, because the corporations aren’t gonna stop themselves.”

“I’ll stop them myself.” She clinches her fist.

“Yeah, sure, tough gal.” She surprises Fletima with a light punch on the shoulder. The Martian cocks her head and throws a soft punch Alexandra’s way, which she blocks. Fletima stands up, nodding her head impressed, and then pulls Alexandra back by the shoulders. She tumbles backwards out of her chair, beer still in hand that she then finishes and places on the roof. She runs towards Fletima, and the two sisters in battle begin sparring on the roof, the sun still allowing the pink to highlight the skyline.

A few minutes later, Alexandra manages to tackle and pin Fletima. They both smile and touch foreheads, her blonde hair draped over them with the snapback laying next to them. Fletima fondles Alexandra’s breasts until Alexandra moves her head down to Fletima’s exposed belly button and licks it, sending shivers throughout her body. Alexandra whips her head back with a smirk and stands up. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s finish those last two beers downstairs.” She extends her hand for Fletima to grasp and pulls her up. Fletima folds the chairs as the human grabs her snapback and the last of the beer. They walk down the steps without tying the rope to secure the rooftop door, leaving their guards down.

The Jerk and The Lover

Alright fine, you got me. I didn't write anything to queue up today. Lucky us, I have an actual flushed out pilot I can steal scenes from. This humpday, enjoy a selection from [title redacted], but boy do I have something good set up for the next two days...

INT. PROGRAM WORKS LINEN ROOM - DAY

It's barely a finished basement. There's no ceiling, just pipes and drains that lead to the rest of the building. Old couches and chairs form a circle to the right of the door. Linens, towels, and toiletries are organized on rickety shelving units around the workroom. A raised desk with a computer sits to the left of the door. Attached is another room filled with tables, chairs, generators and other assorted items one might find in a garage. 

Van, wearing shades, is perched at her desk when Greg enters. Her Diet Coke is half empty. Younger staff members are asleep/waiting to start the day. Most of them are hungover. It's a Friday. The clock on the wall reads 9:58am.

GREG

Van! You aren’t still asleep! I’m so proud of you.

[He hugs Van passionately.]

VAN

I slept on the couch.

[She sniffs him.]

You’re still drunk, aren’t you?

GREG

Enough to get through work and save the day! It’s better than being hungover. Look at those poor unfortunate souls. 

[He motions towards the students on the couches.]

Good morning, poor unfortunate souls!

MANNY

Good morning, Greg!

DEBBIE

Shut up, Manny, and pretend to be asleep like the rest of us.

[Greg spots the Diet Coke on Van’s desk.]

GREG

Wow, you got up early enough to get your go-go juice. 

DEBBIE

I got it for her.

GREG

Debbie, I thought you were auditioning for Murder Victim #4 over there.

[Debbie gives Greg a nasty look and goes back to sleep.]

VAN

You’re so good with the kids.

GREG

I try. So we have a long day ahead of us or am I gonna be able to ride this high all day? 

VAN

Naw, just gotta set three floors with linens and towels for the Master Debators. We should be done by 2 or 3.

GREG

Master Da Bators! Such a hilariously bad name for a program. The kids are already spending their summer arguing; why humiliate them, too?

MANNY

Yeah, what jerk offs.

GREG

This guy gets me.  Hey, non-sequitur, you wanna live with me?

MANNY

Wow, this is so sudden. I mean, if my folks hadn’t already put in my housing deposit for Fall Semester I’d –

GREG

Sorry, Manny. Talking to Van.

MANNY

Oh.

[Manny goes back to sleep. Debbie pats him.]

VAN

You know we can't do that.

GREG

True, we'd probably just drink and eat and get fat and laugh all the time. And if I'm gonna be a serious writer I definitely can't laugh.

[Greg starts dancing like a wacky  waving inflatable arm-flailing tube-man.] 

VAN

Right. But no, I'm actually living out in Hunt Valley with Katie.

GREG

Ill, why? Wait, who's Katie?

VAN

This girl I went to high school with. She posted on Facebook she needed a roommate, and I figured she can't be that horrible to live with.

GREG

She white?

VAN

Yeah.

GREG

Ill. I mean… Sorry, you know how I instinctually feel about white girls.

VAN

No that’s fair. You probably won’t like her. Thank you for making the exception for me, beaux.

GREG

That’s because you are extremely exceptional. Plus, you’re weird like me. Wait, where's Hunt Valley?

VAN

Like a half hour or so north. 

GREG

Past Timonium?

VAN

Good job, you're learning Baltimore.

GREG

Ill, why? You're supposed to be close so we can at least hang.

VAN

I know, but my parent's are basically paying for it, so like, I can't say no. They want me to be on my own but close to home, too. Plus, I still don't know when - if - I'm coming back to school. Why don't you ask Doug?

[Greg stops dancing and reflects on his past transgressions]

Int. Greg and Doug's Summer Apartment, Living Room - Flashback - Day 

INT. GREG AND DOUG'S SUMMER APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM - FLASHBACK - DAY

[Doug is on the couch. Greg is on the phone by the dining room table.]

GREG

Yeah, Bast, you can stay on the couch as long as you need.

[Doug reacts silently on the couch.]

INT. GREG AND DOUG'S SUMMER APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

[Greg and Bast party with coworkers while Doug tries to sleep in his room.]

INT. GREG AND DOUG'S SUMMER APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM - FLASHBACK - DAY

[Greg has a dirty plate and places it on top of other dirty dishes.]

GREG

And so the waiting game continues.

INT. GREG AND DOUG'S SUMMER APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

[Greg and Bast on Doug's Netflix account.]

BAST

Doug doesn't mind us on his Netflix, right?

GREG

No way. That's the rules of leaving your PS4 in the living room.

INT. PROGRAM WORKS LINEN ROOM - DAY

GREG

Yeah, no, that probably wouldn't work. I'm like his first roommate since his freshman year. I don't think he lives nice with others. Besides, he's not the same Doug I met three years ago. It's like he's trying to be a (pauses) real person.

[Greg and Van shiver at the thought.]

And I think we just want different living environments, you know. 

VAN

You think he’s gonna try and move in with Julie?

GREG

They just started dating this summer!

VAN

Well, like April.

GREG

Either way, I wouldn’t put it past him. You know how he gets.

INT. 3RD FLOOR OF RESIDENCE BUILDING

The team walks the halls of the dorm with supplies to set the rooms like a hotel. Pan down to room number 109. 

INT. PROGRAM WORKS SUMMER OFFICE - DAY

The summer office is a dorm room with all the living room furniture packed away into a bedroom. Tables, desks, computers, filing cabinets and a slightly better couch decorate the living room. 

Doug and Julie work at separate desks, but Doug stares and smiles at her more than anything. Julie catches him.

JULIE

...what?

DOUG

Nothing, I just like the way the sun hits your hair.

JULIE

That's sweet, Doug. But get back to work. I'm not helping you file so we can be here forever.

DOUG

Yeah, you're here so I can look at you and get through the day. And so we can do it whenever we want.

JULIE

It's 12:24.

DOUG

That's why it's called Afternoon Delight.

[Doug starts singing Afternoon Delight poorly.]

JULIE

(laughs) Ok, fine. A quick one. Then we get back to work. Didn't you say you had something to take care of back at the apartment before Greg got back.

DOUG

Oh yeah. 

[Doug continues singing as they go into the back room.]

Fireworks in the Rain

I’d never seen my mom so determined. The past year, she spent most of her time in bed when she wasn’t at work.I’m still wondering how she never gained weight from all the TV dinners I fed her. But this past weekend, something snapped in her. She packed my sister, brother, and I into the Subaru and drove all the way to West Virginia. I slept most of the way there, but I remember waking up when the car stopped. I unbuckled my seatbelt, but she told us to stay put. She walked over to a hillbilly who looked her over for a while, kind of like he was surprised it was really her. It wasn’t until she unfurled a wad of cash from her purse that he finally flashed a gap-toothed smile at her and walked her around back. What was probably only five minutes felt like one because I fell asleep again. This time the slamming of the trunk shook the sandman off me; she wheeled a cart back over to the hillbilly and he waved us off.

That day was a scourger, almost breaking the record highs in both West Virginia and Baltimore. We should have foreseen the thunderstorm that was around the corner. The city appreciated its cooling nature, just not its timing. And none were more upset than my mother. She cursed her luck but also thanked it, because it provided her the perfect cover. It even allowed her to hatch her plan earlier. Around 7:37, when the sun no longer seemed to be hiding behind the storm clouds, she threw on her raincoat and asked my older sister to help her. My brother and I  watched from the window as they got an old pop-up tent from the garage and propped it up in the driveway. While my sister kicked the water out of the puddle underneath the tent, my mom unlocked the trunk and ran over an armful of fireworks. My younger brother gasped when he saw how many there were, but that’s because he couldn’t remember the years prior. This was standard for us. Amazingly, she got them all under the tent without getting any of the wicks wet as she celebrated her first success.

She toyed around with the idea of angling them from under the tent, but she remember the one year we almost set our neighbors house on fire. If they hadn’t enjoyed the show we put on every year, they probably would have called the cops. So, my mom decided to wait. She sent my sister inside to stay dry.

It was an hour before the rain let up, but my sister ran back out as soon as it did without the signal for my mother and pulled the pop-up tent from over the fireworks. With two long lighters, my mother lit the circle of fireworks around her in two sweeping half-circles. When the last two in front of her started to burn, she jumped over them as the first Roman Candles she lit whizzed into the air behind her. The grey clouds turned into a rainbow of color above us as each firework boomed and pow’d. All of our neighborhoods came to their windows when they heard the commotion, still surprised the show was on. I’m almost sure I saw one couple applaud. I looked back to my mom, tears falling down her cheeks as she hugged and thanked my sister. For the first Fourth of July since our dad passed, it was as if nothing had changed. It was the perfect homage.