our guy.”
“Always the optimist, Link.”
Chen stayed close to me for the remaining hour of the dig,
then we drove back to the hotel together. There had been no chance to inspect
the object, even answering the call of nature in the woods had prompted Chen to
say he had to go as well, and for whatever reason men see to urinate
side-by-side, he had decided to tag along. At least women’s bathrooms had separate
stalls.
My fingers had traced the outline of the object through my
pants numerous times, and left the inside of my pocket lined with dirt. The
shape was clear—a watch with a broken metal band. Knowing what it was didn’t
make it better—I needed to see it, to inspect it.
Patience was a virtue I lacked in droves.
—13—
I emptied my pocket the moment I entered the hotel room and
locked the door behind me. The watch was aged and weathered, I couldn’t tell
how long it had been hidden beneath the tree root but it must have been years.
It was a simple watch—a silver Timex with an inset date counter, two numbers
that switched over daily and had to be manually changed in the event of a month
with less than thirty-one days.
I wanted to wash the watch clean but it was evidence—stolen
evidence, but my training was hard to shake. My fingers rubbed some of the dirt
away, just enough to see the details. I turned it over and inspected the back.
There was an engraving made more prominent by the dirt that filled the grooves:
L.C.M. IV, 1976.
Nausea and dizziness took over and forced me to sit on the
toilet beside the sink.
Lincoln Charles Munroe the Fourth. My initials. The year I
was born. It was my father’s watch, given to him by his father when I was born.
Memories I hadn’t touched in years came rushing back. The
watch was a symbol that my father never removed—a symbol of family, loyalty and
an oath made to a dead man.
I flashed back to my childhood and saw the watch sitting on
my father’s dresser while he was in the shower—the only time he ever took it
off. I slipped the watch onto my thin wrist and closed the clasp, then stood in
awe of the shiny silver against my dark skin. My father interrupted me when he
walked back into his bedroom dripping wet with a towel around his waist.
“It looks good on you, Lincoln,” he had said. “It’ll be
yours one day, a long time from now. But before then you’ll have one of your
own.”
A confused look crossed my face along with a wide-eyed stare
of anticipation.
“Your grandfather gave me that watch the day you were born.”
He reached for my wrist and undid the clasp, then pointed to the engraving. “Lincoln
Charles Munroe the Fourth, nineteen-seventy-six. When you have a son, Lincoln
the Fifth, I’ll give you a watch like this one with a new inscription for your
son and the year he was born. And he’ll do the same for his son.”
I nodded, happy and proud to be part of such an important
family tradition.
“You and I, my father and my grandfather are all named after
a very special man, a man who didn’t care if people were black or white. One
day I’ll tell you more about him and what he did for our family.” I thought I
saw a tear form in his eye. “It’s because of him that we’re here, alive and
well in a country that accepted us regardless of our skin colour.”
At that time I knew little of our family history and even
less about what my father was saying. He kept the story close to his heart for
a while, waiting until I was old enough to understand the horrors that people
of colour had to endure.
My mind moved forward in time, a couple of years later, when
I noticed my father wasn’t wearing his watch. He wouldn’t tell me what had
happened to it or why he no longer wore it. “We can’t wear these watches
anymore, Lincoln, I wish I could explain it to you.”
I cried in my bed that night, my face buried in the pillow
so my father wouldn’t hear me. The tradition that had meant so much to me was
gone, along with it the
“Always the optimist, Link.”
Chen stayed close to me for the remaining hour of the dig,
then we drove back to the hotel together. There had been no chance to inspect
the object, even answering the call of nature in the woods had prompted Chen to
say he had to go as well, and for whatever reason men see to urinate
side-by-side, he had decided to tag along. At least women’s bathrooms had separate
stalls.
My fingers had traced the outline of the object through my
pants numerous times, and left the inside of my pocket lined with dirt. The
shape was clear—a watch with a broken metal band. Knowing what it was didn’t
make it better—I needed to see it, to inspect it.
Patience was a virtue I lacked in droves.
—13—
I emptied my pocket the moment I entered the hotel room and
locked the door behind me. The watch was aged and weathered, I couldn’t tell
how long it had been hidden beneath the tree root but it must have been years.
It was a simple watch—a silver Timex with an inset date counter, two numbers
that switched over daily and had to be manually changed in the event of a month
with less than thirty-one days.
I wanted to wash the watch clean but it was evidence—stolen
evidence, but my training was hard to shake. My fingers rubbed some of the dirt
away, just enough to see the details. I turned it over and inspected the back.
There was an engraving made more prominent by the dirt that filled the grooves:
L.C.M. IV, 1976.
Nausea and dizziness took over and forced me to sit on the
toilet beside the sink.
Lincoln Charles Munroe the Fourth. My initials. The year I
was born. It was my father’s watch, given to him by his father when I was born.
Memories I hadn’t touched in years came rushing back. The
watch was a symbol that my father never removed—a symbol of family, loyalty and
an oath made to a dead man.
I flashed back to my childhood and saw the watch sitting on
my father’s dresser while he was in the shower—the only time he ever took it
off. I slipped the watch onto my thin wrist and closed the clasp, then stood in
awe of the shiny silver against my dark skin. My father interrupted me when he
walked back into his bedroom dripping wet with a towel around his waist.
“It looks good on you, Lincoln,” he had said. “It’ll be
yours one day, a long time from now. But before then you’ll have one of your
own.”
A confused look crossed my face along with a wide-eyed stare
of anticipation.
“Your grandfather gave me that watch the day you were born.”
He reached for my wrist and undid the clasp, then pointed to the engraving. “Lincoln
Charles Munroe the Fourth, nineteen-seventy-six. When you have a son, Lincoln
the Fifth, I’ll give you a watch like this one with a new inscription for your
son and the year he was born. And he’ll do the same for his son.”
I nodded, happy and proud to be part of such an important
family tradition.
“You and I, my father and my grandfather are all named after
a very special man, a man who didn’t care if people were black or white. One
day I’ll tell you more about him and what he did for our family.” I thought I
saw a tear form in his eye. “It’s because of him that we’re here, alive and
well in a country that accepted us regardless of our skin colour.”
At that time I knew little of our family history and even
less about what my father was saying. He kept the story close to his heart for
a while, waiting until I was old enough to understand the horrors that people
of colour had to endure.
My mind moved forward in time, a couple of years later, when
I noticed my father wasn’t wearing his watch. He wouldn’t tell me what had
happened to it or why he no longer wore it. “We can’t wear these watches
anymore, Lincoln, I wish I could explain it to you.”
I cried in my bed that night, my face buried in the pillow
so my father wouldn’t hear me. The tradition that had meant so much to me was
gone, along with it the
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