The Other Side of Paradise: A Memoir Read Online Free

clothes?”
    I know that Delano will tell me, so I adjust my bottom and whisper to him with my mouth turned away from Grandma. “Delano, is true say we white?”
    “Well, Stacey, we are not white like real white people. But we father is Chiney, so we not Black. You understand?” I nod and he continues. “But you know that I am more whiter than you, right?”
    “How come?”
    “Because my hair is straight and yours is rough and tough like Grandma.”
    “My hair lie down just as flat like yours when Grandma put castor oil and water in it!”
    “Stacey, listen to me, you not as white as me—feel my hair, it don’t need no castor oil, just a little water make it lie down flat.”
    “Delano, the two of we look just the same. The two of we is Chiney Royal—that mean say the two of we is white.”
    “Yes, the two of we is Chiney Royal, but my hair is nicer and me skin is whiter, so me more Chiney Royal than you.”
    I am tired of Delano acting like he is better than me. So what if he has nicer hair or whiter skin? It does not mean anything. And when I look at him I don’t think we look that much different from one another. Delano picks up the foot-wipe and flaps it loudly in the air. He lays it flat onto the floor again.
    “But, Stacey, you still better off than them other Black children. You can feel good about that. Now, come sit down and let me pull you.”
    I cross my arms and smugly ask the first question. “Delano, if you whiter than me, that mean that me is blacker than you, right?”
    “Yes, Stacey, that is true.”
    “And our mother is Black, right?”
    “Is what kind of stupid question you asking me? Everybody know that our mother is Black!”
    “Okay, that must mean say me must look more like Mummy than you, right?”
    Delano does not answer. He roughly pushes me onto the cloth and tells me to hold on before I fall and break my stupid Black neck.
    “You ready to fly again?”
    I begin to cry.
    “Come, man, Stacey. Don’t bother with that.”
    He roughly grabs both my hands and raises them above my head. “Who am I?”
    I sniffle and whine. “Superman.”
    “And who are you?”
    I know all the answers. “Superwoman.”
    “So what that mean, Stacey? Come, man, tell me what it mean.” Delano is now pumping my arms up and down and shouting, “Come, nuh, say what that mean, Stacey. Tell me, tell me what that mean.”
    “It mean—it mean we must—we can’t—that—that—”
    “Stacey, it mean that no matter what happen, you cannot cry. People with superpowers don’t need to cry. No matter how many times you drop off the thing, even if you hit your head, you just have to get right back up and fly again.”
    I button my lips and wipe my face. Delano relaxes when he sees that I am not crying anymore. He gently pats my hair and fixes my twisted dress. Then he straightens the foot-wipe. “All right, Stacey, you ready to fly?”
    I wipe my face and shout back, “Ready! Yes, me ready!”
    Before long, the lines on the wooden floor are sailing by. The world is spinning again and I am immersed in the sound of our squealing delight.

In Everything Give Thanks
    G randma says that next to praising God, learning your book is the most important thing in the world. If you believe in the Lord and get a good education, all of God’s blessings will come easy to you. I want to ask about Job, whom God used to make a bet with the Devil and caused him to lose everything, but Delano already told me that parables don’t really happen anymore. In modern times people have to work and go to school and make their own way in life.
    Every evening after school we sit on the back steps and do homework while Grandma cooks dinner in the backyard. Her hands are quick as she pushes the wood and balances the shiny pot on top of three large stones. This evening she is making brown-stewed chicken. As she adds salt and pepper I read my new vocabulary words to her. If I stumble on a word, she makes me read it again. Delano