Baby Steps

[Outfoxd]

Ray held the rusty Matchbox replica of the 1959 Cadillac Deville in his left hand. Everything else in his room had been packed into myriad cardboard boxes and was either stacked in the corners of his room or packed into his mom's truck or his own Buick. The only thing left out was the tiny luxury car.

He ran his fingers over the outrageous tailfins, the patches where the pink of the pain had rubbed off to reveal the grey die-cast steel underneath. He slid the passenger side door open with his index finger, admiring the interior, painted to resemble the white leather of the real thing.

He had found the little car in the corner, under where his bed had been. He had been surprised to find it; the car had been missing for ten years now. Losing it had hurt, too; his mother always said the car was the last toy his dad had bought him before he had passed on.

"Man always loved Cadillacs. Sure even now with gas scraping 4 a gallon he'd still be driving one around. Said it gave him some style." She had said one day while he was playing with the car (it was always the focal point of his play; maybe he always figured he was behind the wheel, being like his daddy).


Ray glanced over his shoulder, out of the door of his room. The house was quiet; Alicia was already in Minnesota with Mike, and mom was probably embroiled in packing up some other part of the house. Satisfied that he'd stay alone for awhile, he knelt down to the floor and set the car down on the hardwood.

He was uneasy about the move. But the car made him feel better. Especially so as he rolled it around on the floor. The tiny axles of the Caddy had rusted somewhat, so it took some effort to get the car rolling. He still managed.

He had been more than uneasy about the move. He'd been in Detroit his whole life, after all. He'd spent an afternoon running from bullies down 6 mile, where his school was. His mother had taken him to boxing matches at the Joe Louis arena. He and Alicia had ridden on the Metro more than once to get back from school when mother was tied up at one of her two jobs, trying to make rent. He was a child of the D.

But here they were, moving for a white man that Mrs. Dawson was putting all her trust into. Ray didn't like any of it, had protested it vehemently at first. His mother almost had to plead to get him to back down. It was hard. She was dishonoring his dad's memory.

None of it seemed right, until now, when he had pulled his bed up and shifted some boxes around and that little car had rolled out, as if it had been waiting for him. Waiting to show him that maybe everything would be ok, that Bayview wasn't a bad idea, that his mother had a right to be happy again and just maybe, he'd be happy too.

"Ray, get your stuff, we're heading out." He heard his mother call from the other room.

He started, raised and stood up, with the Caddy in his hand. He looked it over again.

"If you're sure it'll be alright, Dad." He pocketed the car. "For you and for ma. I love you."

Ray headed out of his room, ready to move.