Chapter 1

Aaron

Marcus and I have been best friends for as long as either of us can remember. We’ve both heard no end to the racially charged comments of assholes, which lead to more than a few fights. Some fights have left us beaten on the ground, but most ended with us still on our feet.

Had it not been for our father’s shared occupation of long haulers, perhaps our friendship might have collapsed long ago, or never got started to begin with. We don’t know anyone else whose father does what ours does and it puts us in a unique category in the neighborhood. Our mothers had to raise us practically alone, but isn’t the same as having no fathers in our lives at all. Plenty of kids at school come from homes with only a mother to raise them, but for vastly different reasons than theirs.

For those who really don’t know us, which is just about everyone, we should have nothing in common at all. The expectation of self-segregation throughout school had been high, but neither cared about what others wanted. All that matters to us is our friendship has endured.

The barbs of race and religion didn’t sever the ties as the assholes had wished. For every assault came a tightening of bonds, which slowly formed into something closer to brotherhood. We have been told countless times that a white Jew and black Christian are supposed to hate each other, but have never accepted the shit spewed by the assholes of the world.

Had it not been for my name, no one would have believed I was Jewish, since I look more Irish than anything. We started out Irish Catholic on my mother’s side, but at some point, someone on her side converted. But I never really cared about who or why. I was not raised in a religious household and the last time I went to synagogue was for my bar mitzvah a little over three years ago.

Our mothers fully supported us, which gives us something to hold on to beyond friendship. Despite their strong support, the two women never really developed anything other than a cordial relationship. The differences between Batya Moskowitz and Chantise Prince are just too great and nothing’s ever going to change that.

My mother dresses and carries herself in a conservative demeanor. She keeps her red hair pulled back tightly and doesn’t bother with makeup at all. Her marriage means the world to her, and she isn’t about to dress in any way to give the wrong impression to anyone. Everything she does is based on family and she’s made certain to shut down men quickly who ignored all the signs of her marriage.

Chantise dresses far more sexy than Batya would ever dare. She lets her straighten hair fall free, which adds greatly to the appeal of her mocha flesh. My mother does everything she can to cover her body, but Marius’ mother almost goes out of her way to show off. She would never cheat on her husband anymore than my mother would, but she doesn’t mind leading men on a little.