by Brenda Woods
Dante and J.T. took off down the street. Marcel and Latrice ran out of the house and stood over Emako’s body.
“Wake up,” I said again, but I knew she was dead.
The neighbors began to come out of their houses. I heard sirens. The paramedics got there first. They formed a shield around Emako, working fast. “It’s too late. She’s gone,” one of them said.
The police got there next. Most of the people from the block disappeared into their houses. The yellow tape went up. The paramedics put a blanket over the body. Verna looked crazy. Latrice was crying.
Marcel yelled, “It’s all Dante’s fault!”
I went into the house and called Daddy. I kept staring at my bloody hands.
I watched the blood as I washed it off my hands down the drain. It looked like red wine.
Then, my mama and daddy were there. I talked to the police and Mama and Daddy put me in the car and took me home. Mama stood outside my bathroom while I took a shower. Daddy threw my bloody clothes away.
I felt like I was in a dream.
Jamal
Emako and I were supposed to go to City Walk. I called her house at 5:30, but there was no answer and I figured that she was out somewhere. The answering machine was off, so I couldn’t leave a message.
I called back again at 6:30 and let it ring twenty times before I hung up.
At 7:00 I called a third time. It rang ten times and I was about to hang up when Marcel picked up the phone.
“Hello?” he said.
“Hey, little dude, let me talk to Emako.”
“She ain’t here.”
“Tell her to call me when she gets home, okay?”
“She can’t,” he said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Cuz she got shot and now she’s dead.”
“Stop playin’, Marcel.”
“I’m not playin’. It’s even on the TV. They came to shoot Dante, but he ain’t dead or nuthin’. Then the ambulance came and tried to make her get better, but they couldn’t.”
“Where’s your moms?”
“She can’t come to the phone cuz the doctor gave her some medicine and she’s sleepin’, but my auntie’s here if you wanna talk to someone.”
“I’m comin’ over.”
“You can’t cuz they got that yellow tape everywhere.”
“Marcel?”
“What?”
“Where’s Dante?”
“Gone. He was gone b’fore the police came.”
“Marcel? You okay, little dude?”
“Yeah, but Latrice and my mama ain’t. I gotta go now becuz my auntie gotta use the phone. Bye.”
“Bye, little dude,” I said.
I threw the phone across the room. It broke into pieces. My moms knocked on my door.
“Jamal?”
I couldn’t answer.
She turned the doorknob and came in.
“What’s goin’ on?” she said.
I stared at the wall.
She sat down beside me. “Jamal?”
I hung my head and cried.
Eddie
My father had put my graduation portrait up in his market. Muy bonito, all the women told him. Muy bonito. He was full of pride and my mother seemed happy again. I felt like everything was going to be okay.
I got off the bus that Monday morning and walked up the front steps of school. People were standing around like football players in a huddle, talking in whispers.
I approached a small group. “What’s up with everyone?”
“Emako,” a girl named Mona replied.
“What?”
“Didn’t you hear?” another girl asked.
“It was on the news,” said another.
“A drive-by,” Mona added.
“She’s dead,” someone said softly.
I dropped my backpack.
“Monterey was with her, but she’s all right.”
I couldn’t speak.
“You a’ight, Eddie?” Darryl from chorus asked.
I slumped against the lockers. “But . . .” I slid to the floor and pulled my knees up to my chest.
“You okay?” Darryl asked again.
I jumped up, picked up my backpack, and ran outside. The next thing I remember, I was home.
I called Monterey. Her father answered the phone. “Hello?”
“Hi . . . this is Eddie.”
“Hi, Eddie. Monterey’s asleep, finally. I’ll tell her you called.”
“Is she okay?” I asked.
“Hard to tell right now,” he replied.
“Tell her I called.”
“I said I would.”
“Okay . . . good-bye,” I said.
“Good-bye.”
This had to be a dream.
Savannah
On Monday, I was late as usual and I had to go to the office to get a tardy slip so that I could get into first period. The people in the office looked like someone had sucked the life out of them, but I just figured it was because it was Monday. I got my tardy slip and went to class. Everyone looked sad, like maybe the teacher had just announced a pop quiz or something.
Anyway, I handed the teacher my tardy slip and took my seat at the back of the classroom.
No one was talking.
I said to this girl named Marcella who sits in front of me, “Did someone die or something?” and I started to laugh.
The whole class must have heard me, because they all turned around and the teacher called me up to the front of the classroom and told me that this was not the time for jokes. Then she told us to open our books, turn to chapter five, and read silently.
I went back to my seat. Marcella turned around and asked me, “Didn’t you hear the announcement?”
“I was late,” I replied.
“Emako,” she said.
“Yeah, what about her?”
“She’s dead.”
“What?”
“She got shot.”
“Where?”
“In front of her house.”
“You lyin’.”
“Shhh,” the teacher said from the front of the class.
I opened my book and stared at the pages. I couldn’t read. The words looked like a foreign language. This can’t be real, I thought. I didn’t want her to die.
Monterey
We followed the white hearse and limousine to the grave-yard. I looked back and saw the endless line of cars with their headlights on, crawling slowly through the streets like a snake with a hundred eyes.
At the cemetery a crowd had gathered around Verna, who was sitting in one of the white folding chairs between Latrice and Marcel.
I felt a breeze and looked up. A cloud sat in front of the sun like a see-through curtain, but the air still tasted hot.
I thought about Emako’s body in her pretty box, putting her in the ground, the last good-bye.
A car outside the cemetery backfired and the crowd turned, startled. I began to shake. Daddy put his arm in mine. Mama took my hand and held it. I leaned into her and put my head on her shoulder. My mama, she was cool and sweet like ice cream.
The people from the funeral home stood around, ushering, directing the show. It was Emako’s final performance.
I wiped tears from my face.
The preacher approached Verna and held her hands. Then he turned to the head of the casket and began to speak. His words floated through the air. “Let us pray. Heavenly Father, we say to You, this child is gone, but she will never be forgotten. This child is gone before she ever got to fly. This child is gone and we pray that no more will be lost in this way. And let us not be filled with hatred, but let us rest with the knowledge that everything in the dark will be brought into the light. In the name and by the power of Jesus Christ, we pray. Amen.”
The crowd replied, “Amen.”
A woman wearing a royal blue hat began to sing “Go Tell It on the Mountain.” She looked like she weighed 300 pounds and sweat covered her face and poured down to her ne
ck like a stream.
When she finished, the preacher led us in another prayer and Emako’s mother doubled over, bent in half, sobbing. Latrice and Marcel pulled her to her feet and the pretty pink casket was lowered into the ground.
The preacher whispered, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
Jamal
Eddie asked me for a ride to the cemetery. I wanted to be alone, but I said yes because we were cool.
We followed the trail of cars out of the parking lot, and a fat brother on a motorcycle waved us through a red light. I wondered how a fat man rode a motorcycle. I pictured him tipping over like Humpty Dumpty and falling off the wall. My mind was playing tricks on me.
The line of cars inched its way slowly through the cemetery. Eddie sat there, looking out the window. In twenty minutes not a single word passed between us. I was glad. I didn’t feel like talking. I parked the car and we got out. I had forgotten my sunglasses and the smog and sun burned my eyes.
Emako’s mother was sitting, and someone was standing over her with an umbrella to protect her from the heat. There were people all around her, but she looked alone and lonely. I walked over to her and reached for her hand. She put her wet tissue in her lap.
She pulled me in close and whispered, “She was a good girl, wasn’t she?” She looked into my eyes.
“She was,” I replied.
She squeezed my hand and I shivered.
The people from the mortuary were acting like they cared, but I thought that for them it was just another day, just another body being put in the ground.
I walked away from the crowd to be by myself.
I waited under a tree, watching from a distance, and when the casket was in the ground, I went over to this church lady who was handing out white roses and took one.
I tossed the rose in the grave and whispered good-bye.
Marcel came over beside me. “Hey, little dude,” I said, rubbing the top of his head.
“Hey, Jamal.”
“How you doin’, Marcel?” I asked.
“I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“To go back to our house. Everyone keeps saying they gonna come back looking for Dante. So me and Latrice are goin’ to live in San Diego with my auntie.”
“For how long?”
“Forever. Mama’s gonna sell the house and move down there too. She said we gotta get away.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Stay outta trouble, little dude.”
“I will,” he said.
Eddie
While Jamal drove, I took in the panoramic view of the skyline. Palm trees basked in the sun against a background of blue. Suddenly, I felt ashamed for admiring the beauty of this world.
I wanted to tell Jamal that this was all just a crazy dream. Muy loco. I wanted to tell him that it was okay to wake up now. Emako was going to open her eyes and arise from the coffin the way a vampire awakens after dark.
The gates of the cemetery were painted white and I thought about how, when I was a little kid, my mother told me that Saint Peter was always standing at the gates of heaven. I asked her, When did God let him go to sleep, but she said that in heaven no one has to sleep. I always wondered how she knew that.
I hiked up the hill to where the casket was waiting like a wrapped gift to God, pink with white roses, and wandered through the crowd.
A woman from the mortuary was wearing white gloves and I wondered why. Maybe it was to keep death from touching her. It had to get to you.
I found Monterey and touched her on the shoulder and I hugged her for a long time. It felt good to have my arms around her.
I took a deep breath and the tears finally came.
Savannah
I checked my watch as I left the church. It was almost 12:00 and my mother was late. I found a place in the shade and called her on my cell phone.
“What is it, Savannah?” she asked.
“You’re late and it’s hot.”
“I’m still at the salon. Marquis decided to give me blond highlights.”
“Bonjour, Savannah,” Marquis spoke into the phone. “Your mother looks delicious.”
“Yeah, bonjour,” I replied.
“I’m on my way out the door,” my mother said.
“Could you hurry up?” I said, and ended the call.
I looked around. The parking lot was starting to empty.
A black man with bloodshot eyes stumbled up to me. His dreads were matted and he was wearing dirty clothes. He spoke softly. “Hey, young sister. Gotta few dollars for a hungry brother?”
I backed up and took ten dollars out of my purse.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the money. Seeing it was a ten, he said, “God bless you.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied.
“You take care,” he added, and walked away without looking back.
I checked my watch again and sat down on the church steps. Car after car turned the corner and drove off. They all had orange funeral stickers printed with black letters that spelled funeral. I wondered why the word funeral started with fun. There was nothing fun about it.
My mother finally rolled up to the church. “Do you want to go to the cemetery?” she asked.
“No, I hate cemeteries.”
“Do you want to go shopping?”
I stared at her like she was crazy.
“Well?”
“Just take me home.”
As we headed toward the freeway, she started to talk. “Urban blight and South Central. They should be synonyms. What these people need are jobs, jobs and education.”
I wanted to scream, Shut up!
“We could stop and have lunch?”
“I’m not hungry,” I replied.
When we got home, I went outside to the patio. I thought about getting in the pool, but it started to rain, so I went inside and got in bed. As soon as I closed my eyes, the phone rang.
“Was Jamal there?” Gina asked.
“Of course Jamal was there,” I replied.
“Did she look good?”
“Even I cannot believe you would ask me a question like that, but, yes, she looked good,” I answered. “I’m tired, Gina. Call me back later,” I said, and hung up the phone.
I pulled the covers over my head, trying hard to go to sleep.
The sound of the rain on the roof woke me up. The day had turned dark. Lillie was scratching at my door and I crawled out from under the covers and let her in. She was shaking like a leaf. I got back in bed and put her under the covers with me. Thunder shook the house and a flash of lightning lit up the patio.
I thought about what it felt like to have a bullet in your chest. I wondered how scared she must have been and I felt real bad.
Why is it when someone looks good and has talent and the future seems to belong to her, that people like me give her a hard time, like it’s her fault she was born lucky? And how could someone’s life be over just like that? Just like that. So now I’m left to deal with all the lies and trash I threw her way. I knew that some people deserved to go to hell, but I didn’t want to be one of them.
My mother knocked on the door. I figured she was just looking for Lillie. “She’s in here,” I said.
My mother sat down beside me on the bed.
“You want to talk?”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Yeah, I do.”
“She was nice, this girl?”
“Real nice.”
Jamal
It had started to rain and people rushed to their cars. I looked around for Eddie. He was walking down the hill and I ran after him.
“Eddie?” I said, catching him.
“What?”
“Where you goin’?”
“Home,” he replied.
“I’ll give you a ride. C’mon.”
“It’s a long drive.”
“Ain’t nuthin’.”
We drove out the gates of the cemetery onto the slick streets. My shirt was wet and I shivered.
; “I still can’t believe this,” I said. “I keep thinking it’s all a dream.”
“Me too,” Eddie replied.
“When I woke up this morning, I thought the dream was over and everything was gonna be the way it was. You know, like I’m gonna call her and she’s gonna pick up the phone and say, ‘Hey.’ ”
“I know.”
“And I keep askin’ myself why. I mean, why her? She never hurt anyone.”
“I don’t know, dude.” He paused. “Make a left at the corner.”
I turned left and kept talking. “I mean, I thought we were gonna get serious . . . real serious.”
Eddie kept quiet, like a head doctor. Finally Eddie spoke. “If her brother hadn’t got out, she’d still be alive.”
“Yeah, that mutha. It’s like he brought death to her door.”
“You could get on the freeway up here at the on-ramp. It’s quicker.”
“I’ll take the streets.” The truth was, I needed to talk.
“She was real nice,” Eddie said.
The windshield wipers went back and forth. “She was . . .”—I hesitated for a moment—“I hate to admit it, but at first I was just runnin’ my game, treatin’ her like she was just another honey, you know, tryin’ to be a player, and then all of a sudden I started lovin’ her. Now it feels like someone took a bat to my heart and beat the hell out of it.”
“Yeah . . . she was too sweet,” Eddie said.
“You goin’ to school tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I have a test.”
We drove the rest of the way to Eddie’s house in silence. I pulled up in front of his door and he got out.
“Later, dawg,” I said.
“Yeah, later,” Eddie replied.
I drove off and looked in the rearview mirror. Eddie was standing in the rain, getting drenched.
I put in the Aaliyah CD she liked, and headed back to the cemetery. I wanted to be alone with her one more time.
When I got there, everyone was gone and they had already filled up the grave with dirt.
I sat down on the wet grass, crossed my legs, and cried.
Eddie
I stood in the rain, watching Jamal turn the corner. Then I went around to the side of the house. As usual, the door was unlocked.