Hopping into the driver seat, Banafrit didn't worry about buckling in. The dive that she was to meet them at was only less than ten miles away. On such a lovely day, the traffic seemed non existent. In the few seconds that it took her to start the ignition and back out into the street subtracted far more seconds that she just didn't have to spare.
“No, you two can order. Just grab me a lemonade.” Shifting her cell from her shoulder to hold in her right hand, she continued speaking to her friend in quick fashion, not wanting to waste the slightest moment spent on chatter.
Looking over on the passenger side, she glanced over at the park that had been part of the community since she was a child. On a usual day, she would blaze through the light to make her destination, but something stopped her. Perhaps it was the little girl in the pink jumpsuit ignoring her mother's summons while she stared down at a dead, black mass of something on the grass.
The little child bent lower, her small hand outreached and her face lit up with curiosity.
“RITA!” The girl stood quickly, panic written in her eyes as her mother pulled her by the arm.
Banafrit knew that tone. Her own mother often had used it when she caught her reading those “white girl” magazines. In that frustrated mom voice however, she'd be called by her full name instead of Ana like her father had.
Sadly, where her father had moved onto the other side. That great pearly gated world, her mother still remained on earth. And only three blocks from her own home. The Afro-centric Doctor Asha Mensah who believed so much that the white man was the very devil, she refused to pick a tradtional name for daughter. Oh no and heaven forbid Ana was given a white doll baby as a gift. Total end of the world.
Dating anyone other than a strong black man was out of the question. She was Banafrit Hawa Mensah, proud black woman with the African name to match.
So the fact that she didn't want to date the types that were of her mother's likes, meant she was a disgrace to her ancestors. Also why Ana cut ties with her mother and why when she saw other children with their moms, she yearned for the same connected relationship.
Lost in her pathetic musing of wishful thinking, Ana hadn't realized Rosie had already hung up and that the light blared a loud green. Almost as loud as the honking horn behind her.
“Sorry! I'm going, just hold onto your toupee. Sheesh.” Ana started forward, her eyes not in front of her as she was putting away the cellphone.
Another horn and she growled in anger, turning to yell at the man in back her car only to realize that second blast was a warning.
One that she was already too late to heed.