The Case Manager

by Latoya Chandler

“You are not fine, so stop telling yourself that. I will help you get cleaned up.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The Boys: Brotherly Love

  Paul

  Even with my eyes squeezed tight, I could see the palpitating light through my eyelids. It was no use. No matter how many times I flung myself around the bed, intertwining myself in ropes of sheets and blankets, or how many damn sheep I counted, sleep would not come and find me. Anthony said he’d change the light yesterday and he still had not. I would be a walking zombie if I didn’t get rest soon. Between the broken light and my racing thoughts, I had been a nervous wreck. Thoughts of Greg and how we handled things had been eating away at me. Anthony said it was either Greg or us. We had to do what needed to be done. I went along with it despite how I felt.

  My trepidation of becoming gay surfaced the moment I was alone in the car with Greg. I became instantly attracted to everything about him. His morning breath, his smile, the way he walked, chewed his food, just anything and everything that he did or said. There was no longer a reason to wonder if I was gay. My arousal for Greg confirmed that I was in fact homosexual. I couldn’t try to fight it if I wanted to.

  On our first tour together, we shared so much about one another to each other that it frightened me. I had never mentioned anything about Father Whyte or the things I shared with my brother to anyone with the exception of Father McGivney. Everything just felt safe with Greg. He too experienced similar abuse at the hands of his grandfather. It felt as if I had known him all of my life although we had just met. Not wanting the day to end, we agreed to go out for drinks after our shift. Against my better judgment, I invited Anthony to join us at Greg’s request.

  Anthony picked up on everything the moment he walked into to the bar. As a result, the three of us ended up in the back of Greg’s SUV. There was something extraordinary about Greg. I just couldn’t get enough of him, which was why it pained me to have to turn on him after our confrontation about Candice and Nakita. Anthony began following Greg following our shouting match. He listened in on his and Candice’s conversation at the hospital. With that, he said he’d enjoyed playtime with Greg. However, playtime was over.

  Being that we knew where Greg kept the spare key to his place, it made it easy for us to get into his place. After deleting all of the other girls’ photos from the phone, with the exception of Laura’s, we put it along with some of Laura’s undergarments in his nightstand. Laura’s belongings had been stored away in a box in the basement. Anthony retrieved them while I made the anonymous call from a pay phone. Greg was called in for questioning. On this particular day, I just so happened to have picked him up for our tour that morning, making it easy for Anthony to get into his garage and tamper with his brakes. I’d hoped he’d have had a minor car accident, you know, to scare him a little. I never wanted death for him.

  The one and only thing that was a necessity for me was sleep. Thank goodness I was able to take some time from the job. Greg’s death and the allegations against him made it easy for me to get some time off. My problem remained no matter how many days I’d taken off. I missed our talks. Greg understood me better than Anthony. My brother had a one-track mind and the track centered around him. I knew he enjoyed setting Greg up. Anthony resented our connection. Despite the times the three of us shared, what Greg and I had was deeper. My brother wanted to destroy it because he had to be the focus of my attention. He had to control me.

  “I am just sick of it,” I said, my thoughts escaping through my lips.

  “Sick of what, ya crybaby?” Anthony entered my room.

  “It’s your fault. I can’t get any sleep around here because you’re too damn lazy to fix the freaking light, Anthony,” I diverted.

  I never thought one minute that Anthony would ever do anything to hurt me. However, my nerves felt otherwise.

  “You have the same two arms, hands, legs, and feet that I do. You can fix it yourself since you seem to be the one with the problem. Oh, wait, you can’t. You’re chickenshit and afraid of heights.”

  “Screw you, Anthony. Screw you.”

  “No, let’s see you unscrew a light bulb chickenshit,” he taunted, grabbing me by the back of my neck and pulling me toward the utility closet.

  “Stop, Anthony. I’m not little anymore. I am an officer of the law. You cannot continue to treat me like this.”

  “An officer of the law who is chickenshit. Now, when you stop acting like a little girl, I’ll stop. Until then, get on this ladder and change that damn light bulb,” he demanded, shoving me in the direction of the ladder.

  “Would you please stop fooling around, Anthony?”

  “Just change the bulb, Paul.”

  Right then, it was starting to feel as if everything around me were speeding up. However, my movements had decelerated as I made way to the ladder. The ladder looked longer and more intimidating than I’d ever remembered any ladder looking. My heart was racing at record speed. My fingers were numb, and with sweaty palms, I reached for the ladder, which prompted Anthony to heckle me.

  “Don’t be such a chump, Paul. You can do it. There’s only like six or seven steps. Stop being chickenshit. For heaven’s sake, climb the damn ladder. How can you protect and serve when you can’t even climb a little ladder?”

  Swallowing my fear, I snapped, “Would you please shut up?” as my foot connected with air, causing the world to suddenly tilt in my direction.

  Before I could try to catch myself, both of my feet somehow slipped and turned outward. I ended up on my back with the damn ladder on top of me. Anthony tried to suppress his chuckle but ended up bursting into loud laughter while he helped me up off the floor. At the touch of him, I felt my cheeks get hotter and hotter. I no longer saw my brother. It was Greg helping me to my feet. No matter how hard I tried to fight it, I couldn’t rid myself of the thoughts, touch, and feel of Greg.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Grief: United in Pain

  Candice

  “Where’s Tracy? And more importantly, is there something you girls want to tell me?” Ms. Jasmine inquired.

  Anxiety instantly curled into my stomach as my throat felt as if hands clawed up my esophagus and were choking me as they dragged my words back down. With my nerves on edge, I managed to muster up a reply while staring at the back of Nakita’s head as she sat in the front seat.

  “We . . . we’re fine. Wha . . . what made you ask that?” I fumbled over my words.

  “We are good. Just tired and in shock. Judith and Samantha gave birth on the same day at the same time, even though their due dates are seven and half weeks apart. Oh, and Tracy went in the ambulance with them. Well, Ms. Nancy went in one and Tracy went in the other one,” Nakita chimed in.

  “Are you sure that’s all? Because you two climbed into this car as is if you were being forced to, or someone stole something from you. And, Nakita, what happened to your forehead?”

  “No, we’re okay, Ms. Jasmine,” I said, tapping Nakita on her shoulder for her assistance. “I haven’t been sleeping well. This pregnancy has a vendetta with my sleep.”

  “And Adrianna thinks it’s playtime once the lights go out,” Nakita said, reinforcing the lie.

  “And the bruise on your forehead, Nakita?”

  “I think I was sleepwalking to get a bottle for Adrianna and managed to fall down the steps. I didn’t even know I hit my head until Candice told me I was bleeding.”

  “That’s not good. You could have really hurt yourself. I have some bottle warmers in the back, so take a few of them. You can keep a couple cold bottles in your room and use them. Warm the bottles up so you don’t have to leave the bedroom at night.”

  “Great idea. Thank you so much, Ms. Jasmine.”

  She had me shook for a second. I thought I had to confess what those freaks did to us. I didn’t know who to trust. Paul and Anthony were vicious. They murdered a police officer and framed him for what they did. I couldn’t take any chances. None of us could until we had a concret
e plan. Those two were heartless. They wouldn’t think twice about hurting us. Even if Ms. Jasmine didn’t know, they might’ve tried to harm her for knowing.

  “Well, I can most definitely understand that. Welcome to motherhood, girls.”

  “Thanks,” we mumbled in unison.

  “It’ll get better. You don’t have to sound so sad. Speaking of Judith and Samantha, isn’t it amazing that they gave birth at the same time? They have twins with two different mothers.”

  “Yes, that is pretty cool.”

  “It really is, Candice, considering that they hated the ground each other walked on when they first arrived at Hope House.”

  “Really?” Nakita asked.

  Ms. Jasmine went on to explain that the moment Judith and Samantha met, they were at odds with one another and actually had a fist fight that had to be broken up. They fought while pregnant. Judith was pregnant at the time of her arrival to Hope House. Samantha had just lost her baby. She despised anyone who spoke about a baby, looked like one, or was pregnant. She was angry.

  With no family to turn to, Ms. Nancy allowed Samantha to continue her stay at Hope House to assist around the house. Within thirty days of her miscarriage, she mysteriously turned up pregnant, and no one had any idea who fathered her child. Ms. Jasmine said the “fellas,” Paul and Anthony, claimed to have seen Samantha in town with one of the neighborhood troublemakers, and they swore he was more than likely the one who fathered the baby.

  “The fellas?” Nakita asked with her body now facing me and her eyes stretched across the car.

  “Anthony and Paul. Ms. Nancy would be lost without them.”

  Sucking my teeth, I replied, “They creep me out.”

  “How? They worship the ground you girls walk on like you all are their little sisters.”

  “Yeah, with too much brotherly love,” I mumbled.

  “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

  There was no doubt in mind who was the father of Samantha’s baby. Those sick monsters did this to her. There weren’t any neighborhood troublemakers other than the two of them. Only God in heaven knew what Samantha dealt with internally while caring her abuser’s child. My heart ached for her dearly. That was a weight I didn’t think I’d ever be able to carry.

  * * *

  Racing through the hospital as fast as we could, I had a wobble attached to my walk and Nakita had Adrianna strapped to the front of her. We didn’t care, though. We were eager to get upstairs to see Samantha’s and Judith’s babies. Without speaking, we stared into each other’s eyes on the elevator ride up, communicating Samantha’s truth to one another.

  “I’ll sit out here with Adrianna while you girls visit,” Ms. Jasmine volunteered.

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll keep her with me.”

  “Nakita, I will be sitting right here. They have cameras in the hospital. I wouldn’t make it out without them seeing and knowing to come find me.”

  “I know you wouldn’t do anything to her. It’s just . . . it’s just . . .”

  Nakita refused to trust anyone except me with Adrianna, and that took some time to come into fruition. She feared the worst when it came to her child. Nakita felt that if her parents could sell her for drugs, everyone was capable of doing just about anything. Especially with the ongoing battle we faced daily to protect ourselves, and soon all of our children, from Anthony and Paul.

  Since giving birth to Adrianna, Nakita’s trust pretty much had evaporated for anyone, including Ms. Nancy. She said Ms. Nancy had to prove she could be trusted with Adrianna for long periods of time. Presently, that was impossible to do, considering Adrianna couldn’t speak up for herself if, God forbid, something were to happen to her.

  “No need to explain. I truly understand. Besides, I see Ms. Nancy coming down the hall. She can keep us company,” she said sympathetically, waving in Ms. Nancy’s direction.

  We went into the hospital room. “Hey, Judith and Samantha. How are you feeling?” we asked at the same time as if it were rehearsed.

  “A little sore,” Judith acknowledged.

  “I’m good,” Samantha threw over her shoulder with her back to us.

  Looking back at Judith, I probed, “Is she all right?”

  “‘She’ has a name. ‘She’ is right here, so why don’t you ask me?”

  “Are you all right, Samantha? Where’s your little one? I am so excited to see the baby.”

  “I don’t want him. I gave him away.”

  “Wait! What? Why? What do you mean, Samantha?” I panicked.

  “I cannot look at him and not see those faggots! I have to be honest with you. Paul or Anthony could be that baby’s father, and I want no part of it or them.”

  Silence confiscated the room. The only things that could be heard were the machines and sniffles. As Samantha’s pain, her reality, became all of ours, we wept in harmony. Samantha had decided to give her little one up for adoption. She said Ms. Nancy tried to persuade her to change her mind, but her mind had already been made up. Both times she got pregnant she never wanted to be a mother.

  “I’m sorry, Samantha. I understand. I’ll take the baby. We can’t just give him to some stranger,” Ms. Jasmine volunteered, entering the room.

  “I thought you were going to stay in the waiting room while we visited with the girls,” Nakita quizzed.

  “I planned to. However, after Nancy shared with me Samantha’s decision, I just couldn’t sit in there. I had to do something, and with your permission, Samantha, I will have him if you’d allow me to.”

  Sitting up in her hospital bed, Samantha tearfully requested, “If you do, Ms. Jasmine, please don’t bring him anywhere near Hope House. Even if I move away, or God forbid die, keep him away from there.”

  With a concerned look painted across her face, Ms. Nancy interjected, “You make it sound as if Hope House is a horrible place, Samantha.”

  “I’m not saying that. No offense, but I just don’t think it’s a place for . . .” She paused, dropping her head into her hospital gown.

  “A place for what?” Ms. Nancy defensively asked.

  The agony in Samantha’s eyes made my stomach roll, causing me to grab my pregnant belly out of reflex.

  Ms. Jasmine took notice. “Are you all right, Candice?”

  I nodded in response. Keeping my eyes glued to Samantha’s lips, fear immediately consumed my frame, causing my body to tense and the pain in my stomach to increase. She was upset and capable of blurting anything out. Her anger could end up having all of us joining Officer Greg and Laura in a morgue.

  “I just don’t think it’s a place for babies. We need to move on after we give birth,” she suggested, looking at each of us one at a time as we all cried in agreement.

  Her unspoken words conveyed so much. Hope House wasn’t a place for babies. It wasn’t a place for any human being. We did need to move on, but how? Would we ever be able to move on, or would death be the only way for us to rid ourselves of Paul and Anthony?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Life: Can You Stand the Rain?

  Nakita

  As I listened to every word escaping Samantha’s lips, I felt like I was literally being stabbed. I wept and cradled Adrianna for dear life. Samantha was right. Hope House wasn’t a place for babies, especially not little girls. But where could we go? None of us had a better alternative. How could we get away from Paul and Anthony without ending up six feet deep? Maybe Ms. Jasmine could help all of us. She took in Samantha’s son without thinking twice. There might be a possibility that she wasn’t aware of what’d been taking place at Hope House. Or was she? Was her taking in the baby part of some crazy plan they had? All of this was driving me insane. I didn’t know what to think or who to trust. I was going to talk to the girls that evening after dinner and see what they wanted to do.

  Ms. Nancy said everything happened for a reason and we had to find the good in everything. Hope House did, in fact, bring us all together. We’d built unbreakable bonds. Some were better than
others, but there was a joint bond among all of us as a whole. We’d come from different places and never knew the other existed. However, each one of us shared the same pain in more ways than one. We were all teen moms and thrown away only to be placed in a house where we’d been repeatedly raped and abused.

  The ride back to Hope House was silent. Ms. Nancy tried to conceal that she was crying in the front seat. It was to no avail because we could see it. We also saw when Ms. Jasmine grabbed her hand, trying to console and comfort her, placing another sense of doubt in me that she may not have been aware of what the brothers had been doing to us. She couldn’t be capable of having that type of sympathy knowing the root cause of the pain, could she?

  * * *

  “Girls, I am not in great spirits or feeling well. How do you feel about takeout tonight?” Ms. Nancy suggested as we climbed the stairs to go to our rooms.

  “That’s fine. I don’t think any of us are up to making dinner,” I agreed.

  “Yes, you’re right,” the other girls voiced.

  Closing and locking my bedroom door behind Candice, Adrianna, and me, I blurted out in one breath, “I think we all need to talk to Ms. Jasmine.”

  “Slow down, Nakita. The other girls may not be ready for that. Look what happened when we spoke to Officer Greg. Are you sure you’re ready for this? You know once we open this can of worms there’s no way to close it again.”

  Rolling my eyes, I snapped, “Enough with the Ms. Nancy quotes, Candice. I cannot sit back and allow them to do something to Adrianna. I know Paul is a police officer, but there has to be someone we can trust who will help us the same way that Office Greg was going to help us.”

  “Ms. Jasmine may not be able to take all of us and our babies in. How big is her house? If we tell her, she’s going to call the authorities, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. We might get separated and sent to different places. Are you ready for that? I am not. Then we have to worry if she knows and is in on it.”