A spark of anger ignited in the ashes of my grief.
A father wanting to see his son was *making trouble*?
I stayed silent. Taking my silence for guilt, my uncle pressed harder.
"I know you miss him. I know you want to bask in his glory. But you need to know your place!"
"Look how good things are. Joshua is sensible. He repays kindness. He remembers us poor relatives. Just last month, he made your niece a manager. Do you know what her salary is?"
He quoted a figure, his voice trembling with greed and pride.
"As elders, we need to be considerate. Don't drag him down. If he says you're a sanitation worker, then you're a sanitation worker!"
"Think about it. Standing there in those clothes… if you don't look like a janitor, what do you look like?"
"Listen to your big brother. Don't take it to heart. Buy a ticket and go back to the village. The yellow earth is our root, Asher. Stick to it."
"Kindness?"
I cut him off, my voice a ragged rasp that startled even me.
"You want to talk to me about kindness?"
"When Joshua was ten, he burned with a fever so high he was delirious. I came to your door in the dead of night, begging to borrow fifty bucks to save his life. What did you say?"