Blood is Thicker

by Paul Langan

  Sitting so close to Anika, he could smell her hair and feel her breathing. He wanted to kiss her, but he wasn’t sure how she’d respond.

  “To play, you have to hold these fingers down,” he said, slowly pressing her fingers against the guitar’s neck. “And you play the strings like this. ” He dragged her hand across the strings, and the guitar sang a jumbled chord.

  Anika laughed at the sound and leaned back into him. Hakeem’s heart skipped with excitement, and he laughed with her. Then, as he began to instruct her in a real note, he felt her breath against his neck and realized she was looking at him, not the guitar. Turning toward her, he felt her lips meet his for an instant.

  “Now you have to teach me a song,” she said, turning her attention back to the guitar.

  Gradually, he taught her to play a blues chord and then another. After an hour, she could slowly alternate among three simple sound combinations. She seemed thrilled.

  “See that? You’re a natural,” Hakeem said as she showed off what she learned.

  Being with her was better than music, lifting him from his worries and distracting him from the day’s pain and frustration. But as the evening wore on, his thoughts returned to the present. He dreaded what tomorrow would bring and the thought of spending the summer in Uncle James’s house. Anika seemed to sense his thoughts.

  “You never answered me before,” she said, putting the guitar down. “About California. ”

  “Are you sure you have to leave?”

  “Yeah, I am. When the state puts my grandma in a nursing home, they’re gonna put me in a foster home for six months, ’til I turn eighteen. I just can’t do that,” she said sadly. “Just come with me! The two of us could disappear. I got money for your bus ticket,” she said, her eyes hopeful and sincere.

  For an instant, with her next to him, the idea seemed perfect. But when he thought of his family, he knew he could not abandon them. And then there was school, something Anika seemed to have given up on. Her idea sounded nice, but it was a dream, an escape maybe, but not for him. “I can’t leave my family, Anika. Not like that, especially not now. Are you sure there’s no one here for you? Not even a friend?”

  “No,” she said firmly, twisting away from him and getting up. “They’re the ones I’m trying to get away from. ” The thud of a car door outside suddenly startled her. She peered out a window and then turned to him. “It’s getting late. You should probably go home before your family starts to worry. ” The storminess he had seen in her eyes returned.

  Hakeem stood up, surprised by the sudden change in her mood.

  “I’m sorry, Anika,” he said at the door.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. ”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said.

  “Okay,” she said blankly. “Goodbye. ” She locked the door behind him.

  It was 10:30 when Hakeem stepped back in his uncle’s house. He knew his sisters and mother would be in bed, but he was surprised to see Uncle James and Dad talking when he entered. They stopped talking and stared at him when he closed the door. Dad’s jaws were tight. Hakeem knew they had been having a serious talk.

  “So,” Uncle James said unnaturally, raising his eyebrows and forcing a smile. “How is Anika this evening?”

  “She’s fine,” Hakeem replied, suddenly feeling as if he was under a spotlight.

  “That’s one pretty girl, Hakeem, but she’s trouble. Her grandmother’s been trying to control her for years, but she runs in a bad crowd, that one. She got busted shoplifting a few times, even when Savon was datin’ her. He tried to help her, but she even drove him crazy. Calling all the time. Always needin’ something. But that was a few years ago. Hopefully she grew outta that, but I wouldn’t know ’cause she doesn’t talk to us much anymore,” Uncle James said.

  Hakeem squirmed inside. It felt strange to hear Uncle James talk about Anika, especially considering how little he knew his own son.

  “She seems fine to me,” he said, feeling the need to defend her. “She wanted a guitar lesson, so I taught her how to play a few chords. ”

  “Umm hmm,” Uncle James raised his eyebrows, nodded, and looked at Hakeem with a devilish grin.

  “Leave him alone, James,” Dad said. “Your uncle’s just playin’ with you. I’m glad you found someone here, you know, now that you can’t see Darcy. ”

  Hakeem took a deep breath but said nothing. Even though his father meant well, the comment stung. Dad’s words made Darcy seem like an old light bulb, something he could just toss away and replace. The truth was that he had broken up with Darcy because he had to move away. Their relationship was another victim of Dad’s cancer, something else Hakeem knew he could never mention or complain about even though it ached like an old wound.

  “Thanks, Dad,” he said finally, trying to hide his sarcasm. “Savon upstairs?” Hakeem knew Savon would be there, but he wanted to change the subject.

  “Yeah, he said he wanted to go to bed early. ”

  “You all right, son?” Dad asked as Hakeem reached the steps.

  “Yeah, I’m just tired,” he replied going up the stairs, hoping Savon was already asleep.

  Tired of all of you.

  Hakeem’s jaw dropped as soon as he entered the bedroom. The room was dark, the window was open, and the pillows had been arranged again to look like a sleeping person. But Savon was gone.

  Hakeem cursed under his breath. He had expected Savon to sneak out again, but not on the very first night of his punishment.

  Turning on the light, he put his guitar down and walked over to his bed. A sheet of notebook paper was on his pillow. It contained one sentence of handwritten text.

  DON’T SAY A WORD.

  Hakeem crumbled the paper and threw it at Savon’s desk. He hated being forced to lie to the family, but he didn’t feel right telling them the truth. Something about Savon’s words haunted him. They were just too desperate.

  “You already got my parents treating you like the son they wished they had. And now you gonna try to control my life too . . . I got plans on Friday, and I’m gonna keep ’em. I got to!”

  He couldn’t tell them until he was sure of exactly what Savon was into. And, no matter what happened, he would find out tomorrow night.

  After washing his face and brushing his teeth, Hakeem closed the bedroom door and turned off the light. On his way to bed, he glanced out of Savon’s window.

  “Tomorrow this ends, Savon,” he said, scanning the street. There was no sign of Savon. But next door, a large gray sedan pulled away. It had been parked in front of Anika’s house. Hakeem thought he saw someone in the backseat, but in glare of the streetlights, he couldn’t tell. The sedan turned at the corner of the street and disappeared. As the hum of its engine faded, the block grew still and quiet.

  Hakeem stretched out uneasily on his mattress and said a prayer, his mind restless long into the night.

  Chapter 8

  Hakeem woke up the next morning to a dreary sky. The room was cool, and the sunlight that usually spilled through Savon’s window was replaced by a dull gray glow.

  Savon, Hakeem noticed as he glanced at the breathing mound of blankets, didn’t seem to mind. He slept soundly, as if the events of the previous day had never happened. A new pair of shoes, thick black boots, were on the floor next to the bed. A stack of brand new CD’s was on his desk. It seemed Savon was always buying something.

  But with whose money? Hakeem thought bitterly.

  Downstairs, Hakeem poured a bowl of cereal and tried to hide his worries.

  “You and Savon getting along any better?” Dad asked, sitting next to him. “Any problems last night?”

  “We’re cool,” Hakeem replied, between spoonfuls of his cereal. The lie was automatic, but for now he didn’t care. Until he found out what the doctor said, Hakeem felt like his life was stuck on hold somehow. It was as if an invisible bomb, cancer, was falling and everyone was waiting to see where it landed. Until he was sure, Hakeem
would lie about Savon, his feelings about the move, his sadness about his friends. Anything to keep the peace.

  Besides, he could see that his father was completely distracted. Sitting across the table, he stared blankly at his plate, his eyes focused on something no one else could see.

  Upstairs, Hakeem hurried to get dressed as Savon slowly woke up.

  “So, you seein’ Anika?” he mumbled sleepily, his head partially hidden by his pillow. “How is she?”

  “What do you care?” Hakeem challenged, feeling a ripple of jealousy for Savon and the past he had with Anika.

  “You just better watch yourself, cuz,” Savon said with a yawn. “That girl’s bad news. She runs in the wrong crowd. She steals stuff. ”

  “Like you should talk!” Hakeem snapped in outrage. “I can’t believe you snuck out the first night you were punished. I’m tired of covering for you, man. ”

  “Aw, get outta my face. I already covered for you big time with the fight. You didn’t take any blame for that, even though you started it. ” Savon growled, sitting up in his bed.

  Hakeem ignored his comment and searched for his notebook, not wanting to leave it with Savon again. His guitar rested exactly where he had put it the previous night, but the notebook was missing. Savon watched him curiously.

  “You take my notebook again? I know you already read it once,” Hakeem accused, remembering the other night when Savon mentioned Darcy’s name.

  “No, I didn’t take it, but I did look at it. That’s ’cause you left it layin’ around on the floor where I tripped on it. I was gonna throw it away until I checked and realized it was yours. Maybe I read a little bit too, but you can’t tell me you don’t look at my stuff when I leave it out. ”

  Hakeem scratched his head, unwilling to get into this fight now. He had to find his journal. The last time he remembered having it was when he was on the couch with Anika. He’d put it down to teach her how to play the guitar, and when she kissed him, he forgot all about it. He felt a sinking feeling in his chest.

  She’s reading all my stuff, he thought. The book contained all his songs from Bluford, his thoughts about Darcy, and his dad’s sickness. It even contained what he wrote about her.

  Maybe she didn’t read it, he hoped, stopping at Anika’s house on the way to work. He knocked loudly several times, knowing that her grandmother had a hearing aid. There was no answer. He decided to check the laundromat.

  Rushing in the door, he went straight to the back where she had been the day before. An unfamiliar young woman watched him nervously as he approached.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Is Anika here?” he asked.

  “No, she don’t work on Fridays. ”

  Hakeem shook his head in frustration. By the time he’d see her, she’d probably have read his entire book. Still, there was nothing he could do now. He had to get to work.

  At the furniture store, the morning dragged by like a boring movie. Hakeem looked at the clock periodically, thinking that hours had passed, only to discover that less than half the time had gone by. By noon, he had finished all the usual tasks and began looking for extra work, anything to keep his mind off his father’s doctor visit.

  After lunch, he swept the parking lot outside the store and pulled the scraggly weeds that grew between the cracks in the asphalt.

  By late afternoon, when his mother hadn’t called, he began to worry. Even Uncle James seemed edgy.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Hakeem, but don’t worry. These medical tests can take all day sometimes,” he said. But Hakeem noticed Uncle James checking his watch often. At 4:00 he even sighed out loud.

  “Whatever happens, Hakeem, I want you to know we’ll take care of you. You always got a home here with us,” Uncle James said at 5:15. The comment scared Hakeem more than it calmed him. It sounded final, as if Dad was going to get sick again, or worse.

  It wasn’t until 6:30, when Hakeem saw the Nissan pulling slowly into the lot, that his stomach trembled and he began to feel sick.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” Mom said, as she stepped out the car. “The tests took forever, and then traffic, and by the time I dropped your father off—”

  “I don’t care, Mom. Tell us what the doctor said,” Hakeem asked.

  His mother’s face beamed, and she flashed a wide smile. “He’s okay, baby! He’s okay. ”

  “Really?” Hakeem said, almost not believing the news as his mother’s arms wrapped around him. Tears rolled down his face.

  “Detroit’s been good to us,” she explained, her own tears mingling with his. “I don’t know if it’s your aunt’s cookin’, the extra rest, or just getting away from all the financial stress, but your father also gained four pounds. ”

  “Really?” Hakeem repeated. He had so expected bad news that he didn’t know how to respond to anything else.

  “The doctor said he’s all clear. He can even start light work in a few weeks. ”

  “That’s it. The store is closed tonight,” Uncle James said. “We’re celebrating. ”

  The news was the best thing Hakeem had heard in months, and for once his heart soared free of the burden it had been under for weeks.

  Thank you, God, he thought to himself, leaning back in the car seat, the news seeping deeper into his mind like rain water.

  As he listened to his mother gush about how happy she was, the worry that had quietly gripped his heart for so long began to let go. In its place, a mix of emotions that he’d buried away began to well and bubble inside him like steam from a quenched fire.

  Since Dad’s illness, Hakeem had done nothing but work, assist, support, and help. In that same time, he’d lost his school, his home, his friends. Now with Dad okay, he could no longer ignore how alone he had become. And as Hakeem thought of the months ahead, it only seemed like it would get worse.

  Stop feeling sorry for yourself. At least Dad’s okay, he thought as they drove home through the evening traffic. Yet Hakeem could not shake the tinge of gloom that began to creep into this thoughts, despite the news of his father’s victory over cancer.

  As Mom parked the car, Hakeem looked over at Anika’s house. A light in the second floor bedroom was on. Anika must be home, he thought.

  Inside, Hakeem went straight to his father to celebrate.

  “I heard the good news, Dad. Someone’s gaining weight,” Hakeem said, patting Dad’s stomach playfully.

  “It’s all that cookin’ your aunt’s been doing,” Dad joked as he hugged Hakeem. “And it’s because of your help, son. You’re really helping out, and I want you to know it,” he said as they embraced.

  “Thanks, Dad,” Hakeem said, loosely hugging his father. He was grateful, but even in his father’s arms, he felt uneasy. Though he hid it, he was not completely happy, not with his heart divided about the move. Not with Savon watching him. Not with the knowledge that he’d start the school year in the fall without friends. Not with Anika leaving.

  What’s wrong with me? he thought, angry at himself for being unable to fully enjoy the moment with his family.

  After dinner, Hakeem headed over to Anika’s house. His father’s news made the notebook seem less important. But what Hakeem really wanted was to see Anika. As he stepped up the front stairs, he noticed her house was dark except for the upstairs light. But then something else caught his eye. The front door was slightly ajar.

  It just didn’t seem right. Hakeem knew Anika wouldn’t forget to lock a door. She was smarter than that.

  “Anika?” Hakeem spoke out. The house was deathly silent. “Hello?” he said, louder this time. Still no answer.

  He gently nudged the door and it opened halfway with a slight squeak. The familiar musty smell leaked into his nostrils. Hakeem looked back at his uncle’s house and then the other way. He saw no one nearby on the street. In the distance, a group of kids hung out under the streetlight on the corner, but no one seemed to notice him.

  “Anika?” he yelled and stepped inside.

  O
ther than the open door, the outside of the house was the same as before. But in the living room, Hakeem noticed that the picture of Anika’s cousin had been removed. He examined the spot where it had been. A tiny nail was still lodged in the wall where it hung. The remaining photos were undisturbed, a line of strangers gazing at the vacant living room.

  A tremor raced down Hakeem’s spine.

  He moved to where he had sat with Anika the night before. He saw the place where he had put down his notebook, but it wasn’t there.

  Walking over to the bottom of the stairway, he could see dim yellow light coming from upstairs.

  What if someone is hurt? he thought. But his suspicion told him otherwise.

  “Hello,” he said one more time, carefully making his way up the stairs. At the top was a bathroom and a small hallway with two doors. Both were open, but light came from the farther one that overlooked the street. He walked over to it.

  His eyes widened at what he knew was Anika’s bedroom. A row of shoes lined the floor against the wall, and next to them stood a coat rack that held a jacket and a few purses. Hakeem noticed that several pairs of shoes had been removed from the row, and not every peg on the rack was holding something. The bed was covered in flowery sheets, but it was unmade. Next to the bed was a tiny plastic alarm clock with red digital numbers.

  But what caught Hakeem’s eye most was a bus schedule. It sat next to the clock, underneath the light that had been left on. Picking it up, he noticed that several times had been circled. All of them left the bus terminal between 10:00 p.m. and 2:00 a.m.

  “She’s gone,” Hakeem said in shock.

  He walked back to the second bedroom and flipped the nearest light switch. The room was clean and sparse. Old pictures were arranged neatly on the walls, but several had been removed. Two drawers were open and empty as if they had been quickly packed. The bed itself was unmade, but a pile of folded laundry had been positioned on a nightstand. A note written in large letters was left on top of the pile.