by Earl Sewell
“Oh, Wesley is at the Community Hospital,” she answered. “Bless his soul.”
“Bless his soul? Oh, my God. Is Wesley dead?” I was fearful of her answer and held my breath while my heart pounded hard against my chest.
“No, he’s still living. He’s going to be in the hospital a little while longer, but he’s going to pull through,” she answered.
“Thank God.”
“Well, he’s not out of the woods just yet. It’s going to take him a long time to heal up from that wound.”
“What happened? Who shot him and why?” I kept drilling for more information.
“Keysha, that’s your name right?” she asked.
“Yes. What’s yours? I didn’t catch it.”
“My name is Ms. Lorraine. Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, honey, but I’m very tired. I’ve been at the hospital all day with him. Just keep Wesley in your prayers for right now.”
“Wait. I’m coming to see him. I have to see him,” I said, desperately wanting to be near him.
“Honey, allow the boy to get well first.” I could tell Miss Lorraine didn’t want me around, but I didn’t care. I was coming to see Wesley no matter what. I was quickly getting the sense that Lorraine was a cranky old woman who didn’t particularly care for me, although I didn’t know why.
“Did he ask for me?” I wanted to know every detail about Wesley, including the doctor’s diagnosis, and when he would be getting out.
“No, but he asked about Lori, though.” I heard irritation floating beneath her comment.
“Lori? Who in the hell is Lori?” I swore at her, although I didn’t mean to. It was just an immediate reaction to her remark.
“That’s his friend. They’ve gotten really close and he was protecting her when he got shot.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, trying to process everything I was being told. “Wesley took a bullet for some girl?” I asked just to make sure I’d heard her correctly.
“Listen, precious, I can understand your concern, but I think you need to move on with your life,” she said as if my feelings for Wesley could be turned on or off like a light switch.
“Move on?” I blurted out.
“I’ve been talking to my son about selling his house and moving down here with me, so I can take care of him and Wesley. He’s been giving it some serious thought and chances are high they’ll remain here with me in Indianapolis.”
“I don’t believe you. Wesley never said anything about a girl named Lori or staying there and we talked every day. Why are you lying to me? You’ve never even met me, but I feel as if you hate me. How can you judge me like that?” I asked.
“Keysha, it’s been nice talking to you. I’m sorry I called you so late,” she answered, totally ignoring my question. “I’ll talk to you some other time.”
“No, you wait one minute—” I heard a dial tone. “Hello? Are you there?” It only took me a second to realize that I was talking to myself. Miss Lorraine had hung up on me.
“Ooh!” I howled, agitated and flustered. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this mess if it kills me!” I shrieked as I began an inquiry into the cost of a bus ticket to Indianapolis. I discovered that an 8:00 a.m. bus departed from the downtown bus terminal in the morning. The cost of the ticket was ninety-five dollars. I scraped up every penny that I had, but was only able to come up with forty-three dollars. I sat down on the edge of my bed and tried to figure out where I could get the rest of the money without a lot of questions being asked. Then it hit me. “Mike,” I said as I popped my fingers and walked down to his room. I opened his door and walked over to his bed. Mike was sleeping flat on his back and snoring loud enough to wake the dead. I forcefully shook his shoulder.
“Mike,” I whispered. “Wake up.” I shook him harder, but all he did was turn his back to me. “Damn it, Mike! Wake up,” I urged, but he did not come to life. I decided to pinch his nostrils shut with my thumb and forefinger. It didn’t take him long to wake up gagging for air.
“What’s wrong with you, Keysha? What are you trying to do? Kill me?” Mike was pretty peeved that I’d awakened him from his tranquil slumber.
“No, but your breath smells like toxic waste,” I said, fanning my hand in front of my nose.
“Go to hell, Keysha.” Mike once again turned his back to me. I flipped the switch on a nearby lamp.
“Damn! What do you want?” Mike barked.
“Shh! I need your help with something,” I whispered.
“Get with me in the morning. I was having a really good dream and you messed it up. Hopefully I can fall back to sleep and pick up where I left off.” Mike pulled his blanket above his head to hide from me.
“Mike, this is life or death. I need your help just like you needed my help to find Jordan’s car.” I used his guilt trip to get him to listen. Mike huffed as he uncovered his head and sat up in the bed.
“Okay, you win,” he said, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips.
“I need some money,” I said.
“Money?” Mike asked with a bewildered expression on his face.
“Yes, money. I need to get to Wesley and I don’t have enough to cover the bus ticket,” I explained as I got up and shut his bedroom door. The last thing I wanted was for Jordan or Barbara to come up the stairs and overhear our conversation.
“Are Mom and Dad okay with you going?” he asked. I answered him with a cynical glare. “Okay. That answers that question. So that means you’re going to sneak away to see him.”
“Yes,” I answered.
“Man, Keysha. I don’t know if I want to get involved in this.” Mike clearly wasn’t getting how urgent this situation was for me.
“Too late. You’re already involved. I need two hundred dollars from you,” I said.
“Two hundred dollars! Have you lost your mind?” Mike laughed and was about to roll over and go to sleep again.
“Mike, I’m serious. The bus ticket alone is close to one hundred dollars. The other one hundred should cover a cheap motel and cab fare to and from the hospital.”
“Keysha, you’re not old enough to rent a hotel room,” Mike said.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Trust me on that one. I’ve tried and as soon as you present an ID that says ‘under twenty-one’ they’re going to tell you that you can’t rent a room.”
“Fine. Then I’ll sleep at the hospital. I’ll find a sofa or a chair somewhere and just sleep when I need to.”
“Keysha, how are you going to pull this off? You just can’t go missing without Barbara or Jordan noticing,” Mike said.
“I’ll call them when I get there. I’ll leave first thing in the morning and call them when they get home from work. They can’t stop me from seeing him if I’m already there. I’ll deal with the drama and consequences once I see Wesley.”
“You know your plan sounds crazy, right?” I could tell Mike was trying to get me to reconsider.
“Yeah, just as crazy as you stealing Jordan’s car to go hook up with big-booty Toya,” I reminded him.
“Okay, don’t remind me. Jordan has been on my back like ink on paper.” Mike paused. “If you get caught I’m going to act as if I had no clue about any of this.”
“By the time I get caught I’ll already be there,” I said.
“I just have one question I need answered,” Mike said as he scooted over to the other side of the bed. He paused before standing. “What’s the big rush to see him? Is he on life support or something?”
“No, but I think he has a new girlfriend he hasn’t told me about—and if he does he’s going to have hell to pay.”
“Keysha, you shouldn’t jump to—” Mike stopped talking and then exhaled. “Never mind. I don’t have two hundred dollars in cash, but you can take the Visa gift card that I got from Grandmother Katie. It has two hundred fifty dollars on it. I was going to use it to buy video games, but you can have it.” Mike went into his closet and rummaged around until he found the card.
“Don’t worry about it. I can handle myself,” I reminded him. I gave him a hug for being so generous and then allowed him to get some rest.
I went back into my bedroom and purchased the bus ticket. I printed out my confirmation and then mapped out how I was going to use public transportation to get from my house to the bus terminal downtown. Once I’d figured that out, I packed a small suitcase and left it in a closet near the front door. I planned on getting up extra early to sneak out of the house before anyone woke up. Just so that Barbara and Jordan wouldn’t worry, I planned on leaving a note that said I’d left early and I’d call to check in later.
My alarm clock began buzzing early the following morning. I got out of bed as quickly as I could to shut it off. It was five o’clock in the morning and still dark outside. I flirted with the idea of getting back in bed, but I knew that was not an option. As quietly as I could, I maneuvered around the house and got ready. After I grabbed my boarding pass that I’d printed out, I crept downstairs and quietly walked through the house toward the closet where my suitcase was. I set my boarding pass down on a nearby tabletop and wrestled the suitcase out of the closet. Once I had it, I checked my pockets for my door keys and my hip for my cell phone. I opened the door just in time to see the sky open up and unload a heavy downpour of rain. I crept back inside the house and searched the closet until I located an umbrella. As soon as I locked the door behind me, I saw the bus approaching and I made a run for it. I pulled my suitcase along and ran as fast as I could, sloshing through several puddles of water, which immediately soaked through my shoes and wet up my socks. The bus driver saw me running and was kind enough to wait. I was in such a rush to get on the bus that I took a misstep, and hit my head on one of the bus steps.
“Are you okay?” asked the bus driver, who placed the bus in Park and got out of his seat to help me back to my feet.
“I’m okay. I just lost my footing,” I said as I got up. That’s when I noticed a trail of my clothes on the ground. I quickly checked the suitcase and spotted the broken zipper and cursed. “Could you please hold on for one minute?” I pleaded with the bus driver.
“I’m on a schedule here,” the driver complained as I rushed along the curb picking up my wet clothes. I stuffed my belongings back inside the suitcase and then carefully boarded the bus. I paid my fare and found an empty seat. Once I got situated, I exhaled and glanced out of the window as the bus drove past my high school. The bus made several more stops before entering the highway, which would take the morning commuters and myself downtown to the Greyhound bus terminal. The bus hadn’t been on the highway a good five minutes before it slowed to a complete stop. I glanced out of the window and noticed traffic on both sides of the highway had come to a stop.
“Damn it, what’s the delay?” I uttered under my breath. I looked around at the other commuters, who seemed oblivious to the stalled traffic. Some were reading books, while others were on their cellular phones. I exhaled a frustrated sigh because I didn’t want to be late. After sitting still for twenty minutes, the bus driver finally made an announcement.
“Folks, it appears there’s a nasty traffic accident ahead of us. It’s probably due to the heavy rain. We’ll get going again once the state police open the highway back up.”
“Agggh!” I growled as I looked at my watch, hoping that we’d get moving soon.
I finally arrived at the bus station at 7:55 a.m. and raced through the bus terminal over to the ticket counter, where I had to stand and wait in a long line to get my boarding pass validated. I finally got to the ticket counter and began searching for my boarding pass. I searched my pockets, but didn’t find it. I searched my purse and it wasn’t there, either.
“Hang on a minute,” I told the ticket agent. “I know I brought it with me.” Patting my pockets frantically, I still couldn’t locate the ticket. “Damn it!” I exhaled as I stood with my eyes closed.
“Never mind, honey, what’s your name? I’ll look you up in the system,” said the ticket agent. I gave my name and she quickly typed it into the system.
“Oh, dear. You’d better get moving. Your bus will be pulling off any second now.” The ticket agent gave me a new boarding pass and pointed in the direction that I needed to go. I scooped up my busted suitcase and made a run for it. My clothes began falling out of the suitcase once again and I tripped over a dangling pants leg and fell. My knees hit the marble floor pretty hard, but I was determined to catch that bus. I hobbled to my feet, gathered my belongings and limped toward my destination. Just as I was about to hand the driver my boarding pass, I heard someone howl out, “Keysha Kendall! Where do you think you’re going?” I immediately spun around and saw Jordan rushing toward me with a dissatisfied expression on his face. He’d pulled in his bottom lip and bit down on it and his eyes were fixed on my like a tiger about to deliver a fatal bite.
six
WESLEY
I was sitting up in my hospital bed being spoon-fed what had to be the nastiest-tasting soup in the world for breakfast. Grandmother Lorraine was making sure that I ate every drop.
“Come on now, Wesley, stop making this harder than it has to be. How am I supposed to nurse you back to good health if you won’t eat?”
“This stuff is horrible,” I complained as I slowly swallowed down another spoonful. “What else is there to eat?” I scanned the food tray for something that would perhaps taste better.
“Wesley, you will not eat anything else until you finish this soup!” my grandmother insisted. I smashed the back of my head against my pillow and groaned. Grandmother Lorraine gave me an evil glare, which meant she wasn’t playing around with me about eating. I reluctantly gave in to her will and ate the soup.
“Is that stuff any good?” my mother asked as she entered the room with my dad trailing behind her. She was wearing a citrus-yellow dress and red patent-leather high-heeled shoes. Her freshly dyed black hair was pulled back in a tight bun.
“No,” I answered immediately.
“I didn’t think it was because it doesn’t smell good at all.”
“At least it smells better than alcohol,” Grandmother Lorraine muttered as she moved the bed tray away.
“Whatever!” said my mother as she gave my grandmother a nasty look.
“I’m ready to get out of this place,” I whined.
“I know you are.” My mother paused. “Wesley, your father and I were talking and I feel that you’d be better off living with me.”
“Better off living with you?” Grandmother Lorraine snapped. “I don’t think so.”
“He’s not your son. He’s mine,” my mother shouted.
“Hey, there is no need to get nasty with each other,” my father said, bringing about some order to the tension between them. “Wesley, your mom feels strongly about you going to live with her and I feel that you should stay with me.”
“Hold up,” I said because I didn’t want this conversation to continue. “Mom, I don’t want to stay with you. I want to be with Dad.”
“But he’s not taking good care of you. For God’s sake, Wesley, you’ve been shot,” my mother griped.
“And he ended up in jail when he was with you. So what’s your point?” Grandmother Lorraine just couldn’t stay out of the argument.
“Dad, seriously, I’d rather stay with you,” I stated once again.
“Then that settles it.” My father turned to my mother, who wasn’t at all happy with my decision.
“He’s going to get you killed,” my mother said angrily as she turned to leave.
“She didn’t mean that, Wesley.” Dad tried to clean up her comment.
“Yes, she did,” I said without empathy. I’d turned off my feelings for my mother a long time ago and I certainly wasn’t about to turn them back on now. There was a knock at the door and I turned my head and saw two uniformed police officers enter.
“Hello, eve
ryone, I hope you remember us. I’m Officer Davis and this is my partner, Officer Miles.” Both men approached my bedside.
“How are you feeling, partner?” Officer Davis asked. My pulse inexplicably quickened. The monitor tracking my heart rate began to beep.
“Relax, Wesley. We’re only here to ask you some questions about the shooting,” Officer Davis explained, but I still didn’t feel at ease.
“Can’t you do this some other time?” Grandmother Lorraine asked.
“No, ma’am. We really need to talk to him,” Officer Davis stated adamantly. “We have a pretty heavy caseload and we have to turn in a report on this case.”
“Wesley—” Officer Davis pulled out an ink pen and notepad “—in your own words, tell me what happened.” I was silent for a brief period as I tried to reconstruct everything that had taken place.
“I don’t know,” I said as I turned my head and glanced out of the window. “I got shot.”
“We know that much,” said Officer Davis. “What we need to know is who shot you and why?”
“I don’t want to say,” I answered.
“Wesley, tell the man who shot you.” Dad took my hand into his own. “It’s okay.”
“I don’t want to be a snitch,” I explained.
“Are you involved in a gang?” asked Officer Davis.
“No, my son isn’t involved with gangs,” my dad spoke up for me.
“Sir, I need to hear it from Wesley,” Officer Davis said firmly. “Wesley, are you involved with any gang?” he asked once again.
“It all depends on what you consider to be involved,” I answered.
“Wesley! I know you haven’t run off and joined a gang since you’ve been here!” Dad shouted at me.
“Sir, please, allow him speak,” Officer Davis insisted.
“No, Dad, I haven’t done anything like that,” I answered.
“Are you sure?” Officer Davis pressed the issue.