by Briana Cole
“Yeah,” I mumbled. “I know that feeling.” I was floored by the information. Not only was Kareem actually a nice guy but he was in the same predicament as me. We were both prisoners and the key was in Tyree’s hand. Funny how life throws people in your path, and you don’t really even know why.
“Just remember,” he went on. “There are cameras everywhere and the phones are bugged.” I remembered Tyree offering me his cell phone and wondered if it had been tapped too.
“What about your cell phone?”
“Yeah, that too,” he said. “Don’t ever use my cell unless you want to get caught. I’m working on getting another one.”
Just for good measure, I asked cautiously, “So you know all about Tyree and . . . Leo?”
Kareem’s face wrinkled. “Yeah the whole situation is messed up. The way I see it, if you gone be gay, be gay. Don’t bring other folks into your situation because you don’t want anyone to know you like dudes.”
“Agreed.” We lapsed back into silence, the echo of our conversation thickening the air around us. Then, the idea crystallized, slowly at first. Fuzzy as it tried to piece itself together. Then more and more clear, until I was nearly bursting with excitement.
I sat up. “Wait. Of course Leo doesn’t want anyone to know about Tyree.”
“Of course.”
“But we know.”
Kareem nodded, trying to follow. “Yeah . . .”
“And what if Leo’s father found out?” I barreled on as the idea seemed more and more brilliant. “In Atlanta, right before he took me, Leo told me that he needed me because we had to keep up the image of husband and wife. Because under no circumstances could his father find out he was gay, let alone that he had been having a whole ‘nother relationship with a man. Obi would disown him and he would be in some kind of danger.”
“I believe it. Obi don’t play that shit.”
I sprang to my feet then and Kareem gestured for me to calm down. “Cameras,” he reminded me simply.
I nodded, lowering myself back to the chair but that didn’t stop the sheer joy radiating from my face. I felt like if I smiled any harder, my lips would split.
“This could work,” I said. “We just need to tell Obi everything next time we see him.”
I noticed Kareem wasn’t sharing my excitement and it calmed me down, a little. Now, he was giving me that look as if I belonged on the short bus.
“With what proof?” he reasoned. “Seriously, Kimmy, you think you can bring those kinds of accusations to Obi about his son, his one and only heir, and he’s just going to believe you? That nigga will slit your throat before the words make it out.” Kareem shook his head.
I tried not to let his words discourage me. There just had to be a way. Hell, after the Lupé disaster, I was running out of ideas.
“Kareem, this can work,” I pleaded. “We just have to find something so he believes us.”
“Believe me, I’ve thought of that,” Kareem said. “It’s going to be hard to prove, for one. And for two . . .” His sigh was labored. “I’m walking a thin line here. Even with you. If I fuck this up and shit comes out before we have time to tell Obi, I’m dead. Not just me, my family.”
“But—”
“I have a daughter,” Kareem snapped before dropping his head in his hands. He seemed to be breaking right in front of me and my first instinct was to go console him. But the cameras. So I stayed put and let him gather himself.
“How old is she?” I asked, gently.
“She’ll be nine next month. I haven’t seen her in three years.”
“Where is she?”
“In Nigeria, with her mother. I had to send them there after . . . for their safety.” Kareem sighed and then, more composed, lifted his eyes back to mine. “One of the dudes I worked with before, cool guy. He did surveillance. Kind of a nerd but he was smart as hell. Could hack into any camera anywhere. Never hurt a soul. I don’t even think dude cussed.” Kareem grinned at the memory. Then just as quickly, his smile fell and his eyes darkened. “When the whole takedown happened, they killed him, raped his pregnant girlfriend, and set her and their daughter on fire. She was three.”
I felt the ache work its way up from the pit of my stomach to my heart. Immediately I glanced up to the window at the boys’ room. What kind of demon would do something like that?
“I had to watch,” Kareem went on. “Watch them be tied up and gagged. Watch those dudes pour gasoline on them, laughing and acting like the shit was hilarious while the little girl cried and the mom begged. And then we stood across the street while the house went up in flames. Do you know what that feels like?”
I shook my head. I wouldn’t have any shred of my mind left. I could almost feel the fire warming my cheeks and it sickened me and depressed me at the same time.
“I watched grandmothers shot execution-style, at point blank range. Mothers dismembered limb by limb. These dudes are gutta. Ruthless. You see what I mean? I can’t gamble with her life. Not again.” I could tell this conversation was taking him back to a bad place. Hell I felt like I was suffocating.
My face was wet from what I thought was rain but putting my fingers to my skin, I felt the hot tears.
Neither one of us spoke anymore. I think enough had been said. Somewhere, a door chimed, signaling Leo was back. As if I wasn’t torn already about Kareem’s story, I heard Leo Jr.’s giggles riding high as he squealed from whatever delight. I couldn’t imagine. How much was I willing to gamble for freedom?
Chapter 13
Adria
The squeaks of the hinges echoed off the empty walls as I shifted and twisted, searching for some remote form of comfort on the flat mattress. It didn’t help that my wrist was handcuffed to the iron bed. Defeated, I sat up, resting my bare feet on the cold linoleum. The gray sweat suit did nothing to protect my skin from the chill in the room. With a smack of my lips, I pulled at the cuffs, hissing as the metal bit into my tender flesh.
Bastards called themselves punishing me for my latest outburst. I had hauled off and attacked one of the nurses after the chick tried to shove some medicine down my throat. To be honest, I was just pissed I was confined to this damn mental hospital. Keon had stuck to his word and I hadn’t been released from the hospital for more than twelve hours before we were pulling up to Atlanta Regional and Rehabilitation.
If I had to be honest, between the group therapy and counseling sessions that they required daily, it hadn’t been that bad. The rooms were somewhat decent and everyone pretty much kept to themselves. With the exception of the occasional schizo bashing her head against the windows or stripping in the middle of the recreation room, it was tolerable. But damn I was just pissed that I had to be here, that my husband felt this was necessary. And not to mention embarrassed.
Bad thing was, I was having to adjust to not having my pain pills. That kind of withdrawal would make a sane person go crazy. For the longest time, those had been my only lifeline, my mode of survival. They had made my grief that much more bearable by numbing the ache and temporarily filling the void that left me an empty shell of myself. But now, I was having to face my fears of life without my daughters, my friend, and my nephew. Face the realities of the torture I had been subjected to. And the shit was eating me up inside.
Every night I closed my eyes and a nightmare would invade my unconscious. In the daytime, I would hear Kimera’s voice, so vivid and clear I often had to look around to make sure she wasn’t there. It was scary and often left me wondering. Hell, maybe I was crazy. Maybe that medicine I was taking had done nothing but keep all my craziness at bay. Now it could manifest full throttle, no inhibitions, what had been bubbling under the surface all along. That’s why the nurse had claimed to be trying to give me some medicine, something to help me sleep. But no, I didn’t want to sleep. I didn’t want to be awake. I was afraid of my own psyche.
This wasn’t my first time tripping out. The last time, one of the other patients had approached me on some Looney Tune shit
in the recreational room and I felt compelled to defend myself. I ended up spending three days being closely monitored. I wasn’t allowed to join the other patients and I had to go to twice as many therapy sessions, plus an anger management class. The shit was nerve-racking, wasting away in there while I had no contact with the outside world. And it wasn’t like I could keep up with what was going on. We weren’t allowed to watch the news. Instead, they kept movies and music on repeat. Like we were in a bubble. I could easily see how even if people weren’t crazy going in, they damn sure went crazy while in there.
The footsteps coming towards my room had me stretching my stiffened muscles. I glanced towards the barred window, noting the beautiful orange sky signaling the transition to morning. “Assholes,” I murmured angrily through clenched teeth. They had left me in here all night. I swallowed the stream of curses already itching on my tongue. It wasn’t much but I had become accustomed to the small conveniences of the center so I knew I needed to be on my best behavior to get through the rest of my time here. It had been ten days, so I only had four left. Keon told me two weeks, tops. I was holding strong to that. I turned to the approaching steps and waited patiently as the locks were clicked out of place.
The nurse entered, a petite little thing with a patient smile and kind eyes. Much nicer seeming than the one I had gotten into it with earlier.
“Adria,” she greeted. I noted she stayed at the door, making sure to keep her distance from me. “How are we feeling?”
To reassure her, I gave her a smile of my own. “Thank you so much for coming to get me,” I said.
“Well we think you’re much calmer now,” the nurse said. “And good news. You have a visitor.” She chanced taking a step towards me and I did my best to remain as still as possible. Didn’t want her changing her mind about releasing me. It wasn’t like I was really excited to see Keon. Hell, he came every other day like clockwork. Truth be told, I still had some ill feelings about him putting me here in the first place. But I put on my best pleasant face as the nurse leaned down to undo my handcuffs. If seeing him meant a little moment of freedom, I would take it.
I showered, changed into a fresh sweat suit, and inhaled a quick breakfast of pancakes and fruit. Then, I joined the other patients in the lounge and settled into one of the reclining chairs to wait.
This area was used for what they called ‘recreational therapy.’ It was set up like a living room, complete with numerous sofas and chairs and throw pillows that clashed horribly with the dated floral upholstery. A boarded-up fireplace served more as a decoration but it added minor charm to the quaint space. The only modern convenience was the flat screen TV mounted to the wall above the mantle. Now, scenes from an old movie danced on the screen, but no one paid attention. Though it was meant for interaction, everyone kept to themselves in here and that was why I loved it.
“Adria Davis?” The nurse’s authoritative tone had me freezing just a bit. Damn, was I in trouble again? Then, I remembered I did have a visitor and I sighed in relief. “You’re ready,” the nurse said, and I rose to be led down the hallway.
I was escorted to the sunroom. Wicker furniture with plush cushions adorned the area with potted plants giving the air the smell of a garden. Floor-to-ceiling windows exposed the overcast sky outside and as I took a seat on the sofa, a few droplets of rain splattered on the glass and harmonized with the soft jazz wafting through the speakers in the ceiling.
My husband entered the sunroom shortly after I had sat down. I put on my best smile and rose to greet him. To my surprise he appeared to be upset. He stopped in the doorway and didn’t move any closer to me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He was quiet for a few more moments before he spoke up. “Do you have something you want to tell me?”
My heart quickened. What the hell was he talking about? I had been here for the past couple weeks so I hadn’t done anything to tell him about. He seemed to be waiting for me to answer so I shrugged. “Babe what do you mean? What are you looking for me to tell you?”
“Where did you get those pills, Adria?”
The direct question had my eyes rounding and the best response I could muster was to counter with another question to stall for a moment. “Where do you come off asking me that? You know I go to therapy. Or you would know if you ever showed up to therapy and you would see that my doctor thinks I need them.”
Keon just nodded but I could not tell if he actually believed me. Then he opened his mouth again and I knew for a fact he didn’t believe me. “Out of all this time, I would have never thought you would lie to me. All this bullshit you feed me about communication and trust in our relationship, never did I think you were the one being deceptive.”
Keon took a step into the room and, at the same time, held out a cell phone in my direction. My cell phone, I could tell right off the bat. Shit had he found it? I mentally flipped through my pictures and text messages trying to pinpoint what he could be talking about. Then I remembered Barlow. But we had not been stupid enough to text about the fact that we met in person. So maybe it was something else and I just wasn’t thinking at the moment.
I took the phone from him and looked at the black screen. For some reason, I could not bring myself to power it on. I looked up, my anxiety riding so high I felt like it would strangle me. “Keon,” I said. “Just tell me what it is you’re talking about.”
Keon did the honors, taking the phone back from me and turning it on. We both waited while the start-up screen brightened to life, our breathing the only sound in the room.
“I called Dr. Evelyn,” he said simply. That was enough.
My knees weakened and I sank back to the sofa, keeping my eyes on him. “I thought you said you wouldn’t.” I didn’t even know I was whispering the words.
“Well, I thought it would be a good idea to make an appointment,” he said, now clicking the touch screen. “I thought to myself, let me prove to my wife I’m trying to be better. Let me take the initiative and schedule a follow-up appointment for her so we BOTH can discuss our grief and our marriage.”
I shook my head, already dreading his next few words. He had found out. Of course it would’ve been too easy for him not to call, I get out of here and we move on. I saw his lips moving, but my mind was already working in overdrive to prepare for when he revealed what I knew was coming.
“Imagine my surprise when I spoke directly to Dr. Evelyn and she said, ‘oh thank God. It had been so long I was starting to get worried about y’all.’ Now I’m thinking, how is that possible it had been so long? You claimed you had an appointment with her earlier this month. So of course I assumed she meant both of us together.”
Keon held out the phone again and though I didn’t look, I could tell my message inbox was flashing up on the screen. Still, I refused to take it.
“To make a long story short,” he went on, his voice rising an octave. “You haven’t been going to Dr. Evelyn and she sure as hell didn’t prescribe all the medications they found in your system. So I decide, ‘you know, she must be seeing another doctor’ . . .”
No, no, no.
“That’s a logical explanation. I just hate she didn’t feel like she could tell me . . .”
Oh God, please no.
“So I go through your phone looking for this other doctor’s contact information. And lo and behold, I don’t find it but I damn sure find something else.”
Keon closed the distance between us and dropped the phone on the cushion beside me. “Who is Barlow, Adria?”
I had remained silent up until that point, waiting for this moment when I could lash back in anger, confusion, or even just plead for forgiveness. I had been caught, and as solid as his logic was, I still had no answer for him. And that infuriated him.
“I’ll tell you who he is.” Keon was yelling now as his eyes darted around the room. Probably looking to punch a wall or something. “That nigga is a known drug dealer and MY wife has his number saved in her phone. That’s the mu
thafucka you were meeting at the cemetery, wasn’t it?” He rushed on not even bothering to wait for an answer. “Yeah that’s the nigga. I couldn’t get a good look at him but thinking back on it, hell yeah.”
I clutched my hands together letting Keon rant. I still had no words, and better to let him run off his steam than make matters worse with a lie or even the truth right now. I was silently wishing I had something to take the edge off but I was sure the shit would’ve looked real bad if I had snatched up my phone and called Barlow right then and there.
“You ain’t got nothing to say?” It was as if Keon was just now noticing I had not uttered a single word since his revelation.
I dropped my head to stare at my hands, the tan line from my wedding ring a stark contrast to my brown finger. For ‘safety’ reasons, they’d made me take off the ring and leave it behind when I was admitted. Now it was as if the gesture had been symbolic.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I didn’t see anything wrong at the time.”
“You didn’t see anything wrong at the time?” He tossed my words back at me, clearly trying to show how ridiculous they sounded. “This is some bullshit Adria. But you know what is even worse? Look at the message.”
I didn’t have to. I already knew what I would find. But because he was looking and waiting, I picked up my phone and looked down at the screen.
I had taken the naked picture lying down in bed angled up from between my legs with a clear enough view to see both my goods and my grinning face. One of several I had sent to Barlow.
The phone trembled in my fingers before slipping free and making a gentle thump on the rug at my feet.
“You fucked him, didn’t you, Adria?”
A lie doesn’t care who tells it. Mrs. Davis used to always tell us that when me and Kimmy had gotten caught in some deceit or another. And as much as I wanted my lips to form the truth, I pursed them together and shook my head instead. This time when I did look back up, the tears were already spilling over.