Blue Sky

by D. Bryant Simmons

  “God, I love you.”

  “I am wonderful.”

  “And thoughtful.”

  “Yes, that too.”

  “And very sexy.”

  “As are you, mami.”

  “Wait.”

  “Why?” He paused, his face inches from mine, our bodies already connected from the chest down. All we’d done in the last forty-eight hours was make love. Was that normal? What if that’s all we had? What if all that lovemaking overwhelmed my birth control, and I got pregnant with triplets or something?

  “Umm…I’m hungry.”

  His eyebrows arched high in disbelief, but then he smiled as if he’d just read my mind. “I will feed you then.” He stood. “I will feed my wife.” He smiled, checking the thermostat as he passed it and disappeared down the hallway.

  Damn. How’d I get so lucky? Me? Jackie Morrow?

  I absentmindedly reached for the remote and the television came back to life. A black-and-white scene took over the screen. Not a figure had moved. I hit play and watched the people resume their movements. Why had I been so sure I’d find the robbers on this videotape? Maybe the two men in the corner didn’t even know each other. Maybe they really just wanted a few gumballs.

  “Okay, mami. I have red and white.” Kem returned holding two bottles of wine.

  “I thought you were cooking.”

  “I will. Liquor first. Red or white. Red and I will make steak. White…fish.”

  “White.”

  “As you wish.” But before he could hurry back to the kitchen, the static-filled videotape caught his attention. “What’s this?”

  “Security footage from the currency exchange around the corner. I was looking for the guys that attacked me.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?”

  “Yes, why? Why would you do that? That is the police’s job.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why would you be looking for them?”

  “I was just curious. Thought I could help. Make myself useful.” Redeem myself for being an easy mark.

  Kem bent over, taking the remote from my fingers and suddenly the television screen faded to black. “Help me in the kitchen. I will show you how to make the best perch you’ve ever tasted.”

  ◼︎

  We hadn’t been apart for more than a minute, an impossible standard to keep up for the entirety of our marriage, but we were going to try anyway. Kem took my hand as I stepped off the bus, and we made our way toward campus. The commute from the north side to Hyde Park was a long one. Parking on campus was insane, so Kem opted not to drive. The band had practice, but not for a few hours, so he was happy to follow me to my afternoon classes.

  “What are you going to do for two hours?”

  He shrugged and moved his guitar case from his right to left hand. “Bookstore.”

  “What?”

  “You have a bookstore?”

  “Yeah. Do you want me to show you where it is?”

  Kem smiled. “I will find it. And I will find you after your last class.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  I sighed as the prestigious New England-style building began to peek through the trees. Five of my six classes were overcrowded lectures, including this one.

  “I bet if you come in, they won’t even notice. Don’t laugh at me.”

  “You are not tired of me yet?”

  “Never.”

  “No. I think I will wait for you out here. Chemistry 101 doesn’t sound like my cup of tea.” Kem pointed to an oak tree in the quad and gently tapped his guitar case. “I have a song I want to work on anyway. You go. Study. Learn. Get As.”

  I sat in the back row, twirling a black pen I’d found on the floor. Getting to class on time was going to be a headache from here on out. I began writing out a list of things to do. I wondered if I could get a credit to my account if I gave up my dorm room.

  “Hey, Jackie. Finally decided to come to class, huh?” Lisa shuffled into the aisle and claimed the seat next to me.

  “Only missed one class.”

  “One class and two labs. Remember? You asked me for the notes. Speaking of…” She unzipped her bag and lifted out photocopied pages from her notebook. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So, what’d you do this weekend?”

  “Got married.”

  “Seriously?” My friend laughed so loud the last few students trickling in stopped and turned to look at us.

  “I did.”

  “Where’s the ring?”

  “Don’t have one yet. He’s a starving artist. I’m a starving student.”

  “And you got married? What did your family say?”

  “Shh.” I pointed in the direction of the stage as the professor began the day’s lecture.

  Chemistry wasn’t exactly my cup of tea either, but it was mandatory for all freshmen. Had to get at least a B to maintain my financial aid. So, I scribbled the date and time across the top of a fresh page in my notebook. I would take notes. I would not miss any more classes.

  “You tell them?” she whispered.

  “Not yet.”

  Just because most college students weren’t married didn’t mean I couldn’t make it work.

  ◼︎

  “They will be thrilled to see you again.” Kem was more than ready to welcome me back into the band. “You will like the new sound we’re working on. It is a little funk and a lot of blues.”

  We hurried down the street, turned the corner, and continued down the alley. I wasn’t planning on singing, but I got the sense Kem hadn’t picked up on that. I was following him to practice like he’d followed me to class. I was going to sit in the corner of the garage, going over my class notes and possibly reread a few chapters from the textbook.

  “Did you hear me, mami?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And Clark is working on a cover of a song I think you will like.” He smiled knowingly and pushed open the gate then the door to the garage.

  Nothing had changed other than the music. Clark and his drums. Jess and the keyboard. They were both surprised to set eyes on me. Funny how it took me leaving the band for them to give my suggestions any weight.

  “So that’s why we couldn’t get this guy the last few days. You had him!”

  “Ha-ha. Funny.”

  Kem pulled me close, bursting to share the news. My head dropped against his shoulder, and I nuzzled my nose against his neck, taking another hit of his scent.

  “No!” Jess was in shock. I didn’t blame him. “When? How?”

  “We flew to Vegas. It was lovely. Right, mami?”

  I nodded.

  “Next chance we get, I’m taking her home with me.”

  “Kem.” I blushed even harder at such a blatant mention of his desire.

  “No, I mean home. Columbia. For you to meet my family.”

  “Oh.”

  “You young’uns…” Clark wrestled both of us into a hug. “Well, congratulations. Hope you don’t mind we’re gonna have to steal your husband away for a few months. Did you tell her?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “Oh. We are going on tour.” Kem smiled, and it all fell into place.

  This was why he wanted me back in the band. He couldn’t bear to be apart from me. I began stroking his hair, doting on my altogether perfect man.

  “I think we should hear the set with some vocals, and since Jackie is here…wouldn’t it be perfect to debut our new sound with her voice?”

  “I’m sold,” was Clark’s immediate reply, and Jess’s consent wasn’t far behind.

  “So, mami? What do you say? Ready to hit the stage again?”

  I had been smiling throughout their conversation, but it had more to do with how Kem’s cheeks perked up every time he said my name than the actual content. I wasn’t there to sing. I had a corner and a textbook with my name on it.

  “Mami?”

  “Umm…”

  “
Jackie, if it’s about before…”

  “It’s not.”

  “Mami, what’s wrong?”

  This time Kem followed my lead. Stepping over dismantled boxes and packing paper, we found a private corner.

  “I don’t think I should go. I’ve got school.”

  “You have Christmas break coming up. Come out with us for a few weeks.” His hands worked their magic up and down my arms before settling on my hips. “I can’t be apart from you that long.”

  “I know. Me either.”

  “So, then you will come?”

  I nodded. It would only be for a few weeks.

  ◼︎

  Happy brides—happy wives weren’t disappointed, and I was happy, ipso facto, I couldn’t be disappointed. I had the most perfect man, and he couldn’t get enough of me. I might even realize my dream of becoming a superstar. Everything was perfect. Still, I sat up in bed, slipped on one of Kem’s tee shirts, and tried to wish away the melancholy that had infiltrated my sleep.

  Maybe it was Mama. I glanced at the cordless sitting on top of the tray beside the bed but couldn’t bring myself to call her. She’d been doing well. I’d drive myself crazy thinking the worst every other minute.

  Maybe it was school. I hadn’t been a very good student and finals were around the corner.

  Hugged my knees to my chest and considered the obvious. Vegas. It was sudden. I didn’t do well with change. But then nothing had changed.

  Kem’s side of the bed lay empty and cold. That was different. That must’ve been what woke me up. He’d been gone from the bed for a while.

  I peeked out into the hall and saw no sign of him in the kitchen. The floor boards squeaked subtly as I headed toward the front of the apartment. Hushed voices grew louder with each step, and then there he was, sitting on the coffee table. The light from the television broke through the night, creating a silhouette of his body.

  “Kem?”

  “Jackie.” His face fell, pain replacing his usual optimism. “I was going to come get you…”

  I didn’t hear another word although I could see his lips were moving. The blonde sitting behind the desk was telling the good folks of Chicago about the latest in a string of convenience store attacks. A murder on the north side. My sister’s face flashed on the screen, and the word suspect thundered in my ears.

  “If anyone has any information about this woman or her known associates, please contact your local police precinct.”

  Nothing in the world could prepare a Mama for the pain of her daughters following in her footsteps. They sat with me, Jackie on my right, Nikki on my left, both letting me clutch their hands—Nikki praying in hushed tones, and Jackie stewing in negativity. The three of us waited from sunup to sundown.

  Chicago police had set their minds to not doing us any favors. Said they ain’t have nobody by the name of Mya Morrow. Took one of the detectives, a fat one sucking on a cigar, to figure it all out. She’d come in as a Jane Doe. Nearly killed me because only one reason my child would be a Jane Doe, if she was dead. But she was alive and kicking it seemed. Cops didn’t wanna let us see her. Said we ain’t have the right. None of us was lawyers. But then the fat little dick beckoned me to his desk with a glint in his eye.

  “Mrs. Morrow, I just have a few questions about your daughter if you don’t mind.” That made two of us.

  “Her birthdate for one. Marital status and a list of her friends, if you please.” He pushed a pad of paper and an ink pen in my direction.

  Already felt like we’d made a mistake coming down here to claim her. Every corner of the room held cops whispering and shooting looks at us, like we held the key to some big mystery.

  “Why you don’t ask her?”

  He took the unlit cigar out of his mouth and laid it across the rim of his coffee cup, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “She hasn’t been the most cooperative.”

  “I want to see her.”

  “In due time. First, I need a few answers.”

  “No offense, but what you need ain’t so high on my list of priorities. You have my daughter locked up, and I wanna know why.”

  “She’s a person of interest in a string of robberies.”

  “Television said something about murder.”

  “That too.”

  “Mya ain’t kill or rob nobody. It ain’t in her.”

  He nodded, figuring I was like all mamas, blind to the truth about our children. Wish I could’ve been, but that wasn’t in me, not where Mya was concerned. If he’d said she’d gotten into a fight, I’d have believed that. Just like I’d have believed she had a good reason for it. But stealing, my girl wouldn’t do. Ain’t one day passed that she’d taken more than she was due. And she wouldn’t kill nobody for anything. In her mind, wasn’t no-good reason for that.

  “She can be a little hard-headed.” I stared at the blank piece of paper, resisting the pull to pick up the pen. “She’s smart. If she’s not answering your questions, then she got a reason. Let me talk to her. Make her understand.”

  He made a big show of considering my request. Leaning back in his chair until its front legs were up in the air, then they came down hard.

  “All right, Mrs. Morrow. I’m not such a hard-ass I’d deny a mother from seeing her child. But the minute it’s over, I expect some answers. And I’ll need to see some identification.” He beckoned over one of the uniformed officers. “Something with your full name and address on it.”

  ◼︎

  The officer whistled as he led me down a dark corridor. Had to have been colder inside than it was outside. Was probably all the concrete. Concrete and bars, folks with sad eyes and big mouths shouting to be heard over the din. Couldn’t imagine my baby being among them. Even when the police took me into custody, they ain’t put me in a place like this.

  “Here we go.”

  We stopped outside a dark cell. The metal frame bed held a thin mattress without a sheet in sight. The last bit of light fell on a toilet nailed into the wall, and in the darkness, something moved.

  “Mama?”

  “Open this up.”

  His keys rattled as he did as I asked, and then the bars slid shut as soon as I was inside. He stood guard anyway, but I barely noticed.

  “Baby? Come on in the light, so I can see you.”

  She stood, arms folded under her chest, her hair in one long braid over her shoulder. Wasn’t until I went in to hug her, and she stepped back, that I realized she was covered in blood.

  “It ain’t mine. I’m okay.”

  “No, you not!”

  The dark red smudges along the curve of her jaw had turned a flaky rust color, and my child, who couldn’t care less how she looked, receded into the darkness of her cell.

  “What happened? Why these people think you…”

  She didn’t answer me right away. Didn’t move or sigh or anything.

  “Mya?”

  “I was there to get diapers. A guy came in, robbed the owner, shot him, and left.”

  “So you’re a witness.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t see anything. And I sort of ran away after…”

  “You were scared. You were afraid. That don’t make you guilty!”

  “The cops were coming.”

  “They should understand! Folks go through traumatic experiences, and they wanna run away. That’s how it is.”

  “I was running from the cops.”

  I looked her in the eye, grabbed hold of her arms and said, “You ain’t do nothing wrong. You hear me?”

  She finally relaxed enough to let me put my arms around her.

  “Your sisters are here. Jackie and Nikki. They wanted to come see you, but they would only let me in. That detective gotta lot of questions.”

  “Mama?”

  “Yes, baby.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right. Okay? You gonna be okay. We’ll get you outta here.”

  “No, I’m sorry about…how I was…back when…
”

  I didn’t need to hear anymore. Just held her tighter.

  Whatever Mama said to the boys in blue put a fire under their behinds, but it didn’t move them one bit closer to my truth. They let me clean up and handed me an orange jumpsuit with B66739 in faded black stencils over my heart. After they properly outfitted my cell, I actually got a few hours’ sleep before they came back.

  “Let’s go, Morrow. Lawyer’s here.”

  Ross Brooks was a veteran in the public defender’s office. An unassuming little white man with wisps of gray hair above his ears, a hard nose, and spectacles that just wouldn’t stay put.

  “I’m Ross Brooks. Sit down, Miss Morrow.”

  I sat.

  “You are being charged with robbery homicide. Guilty or not guilty?”

  “Not guilty.”

  He nodded and pushed one of two stacks of paper in my direction and handed me a pen. “Sign here and every other place you see is marked. Police are still building their case unofficially, so that should work in your favor. Any witnesses?”

  “No.”

  “Anybody hear you talking about the store before or after?”

  “Why would I be talking about—”

  “Just answer my questions, miss.”

  “No. Except Darien. He knew I was going.”

  “Own any weapons?”

  “A few knives.”

  “Got permits for those?” He asked not looking up from the file with my name on it.

  “Didn’t know you needed permits for knives.”

  “Anybody know you have them? Ever used them on anyone or displayed them in a public fashion?”

  “Yeah.”

  He passed me one clean sheet of paper and said, “Write down the dates, names, and locations.”

  He didn’t ask me about the robbery or Arif. He wanted Darien’s full name and contact information, but I feigned ignorance. Wasn’t about to give up my family to this man I’d only just met.

  “Miss Morrow, why haven’t you cooperated with the police?”

  “Don’t trust ‘em.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to trust me.”

  It was the first time he’d actually looked at me.

  I pointed at the legal pad on his side of the table and tore off another sheet. Trust was a bit of a stretch, but I had no problem testing him.