In the Midst of It All

by Tiffany L. Warren

  Alyssa must have also heard the rumors about Emil because she grabbed Kyle by the arm and dragged him to the other side of the driveway.

  “Be easy, Emil,” Zenovia begged.

  “For you, I’ll be cool, but dude betta not step to me in the street.”

  Zenovia highly doubted that Kyle would have the guts to even make eye contact with Emil without the safety net of his Brethren friends.

  Emil added, “Can we get out of here now?”

  “Let me go give Justin a hug and say goodbye. Then we can be out.”

  “All right, I’ll be waiting at the corner.”

  “Tristan will take us home.”

  Emil let out a disgusted snort which let Zenovia know she said the wrong thing. She hadn’t meant to insult Emil, but it was cold and she wasn’t trying to stand outside waiting on the bus.

  She smiled, “If we ride the bus, you’re going to have to keep me warm.”

  “That is not a problem, baby girl,” Emil said with a grin.

  She watched Emil start off down the street and quickly scanned the crowd for Justin. It should’ve been easy to find him since he should’ve been packing his own belongings into the Batistes’ van. But leaving to serve at the Brethren headquarters had given Justin an almost celebrity status and everyone was trying to get his ear.

  Zenovia finally spotted him talking to one of the older ladies from the congregation. She pinched Justin’s cheeks and then kissed them. He endured the affection like a gentleman, and it made Zenovia smile.

  She followed him into the side door of the house, where he’d disappeared. She cleared her throat as he was about to dash up the steps into the kitchen. Her small noise made him halt in his tracks and turn around.

  Zenovia said, “You are such a ladies’ man, Justin. That little old lady just couldn’t keep her hands off of you.”

  “Zee. I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Yeah, me and Emil have been kinda on the outskirts.”

  Justin grinned. “Emil. That’s the guy you’re seeing, right?”

  “Yes. I just wanted to congratulate you, Justin, and get a hug. Then I’m getting out of here.”

  Justin continued to smile and Zenovia thought his eyes would pierce her soul. He held out both his arms. “Come here, Zee.”

  Zenovia stepped forward and allowed Justin to encircle her with his arms. He held her close… too close, but she didn’t pull away.

  Finally he let Zenovia go. “You take care, Zee.”

  “You too, Justin.” Zenovia managed to croak out her response. There was a knot in her throat that threatened to steal any words she wanted to speak.

  “And don’t worry about Tristan. If he doesn’t come around, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

  Zenovia smiled, suddenly feeling more relaxed. “I think I’ve probably already given up on Tristan.”

  “Good. Maybe you’ll still have a crush on me when I come home,” Justin said presumptuously.

  Zenovia burst into laughter. “You are hilarious, Justin. I am going to miss you though! Take care.”

  Zenovia turned to walk back down the steps, but Justin grabbed her arm. He spun her around quickly and before she could object they were standing nose to nose.

  “Justin…”

  He didn’t reply, but planted a warm and sweet kiss on Zenovia’s lips. He didn’t put his tongue in her mouth, but gently bit her bottom lip as he pulled away. Zenovia felt weak, then immediately guilty for having that feeling. She pulled away from Justin and fled.

  She quickly moved through the crowd that had grown considerably since she’d been inside. Down the street, at the corner, she could see Emil waiting for the bus. If she could just get away from the house, and from Justin and his reckless lips, she’d be able to compose herself.

  Just when she thought she was home free, Tristan called to her, “Zee, are you leaving? You just got here!”

  Instead of stopping, she waved at him and sped off down the street without anyone else really noticing. She wasn’t the center of attention, so no one cared whether she stayed or went, except maybe Tristan who seemed to want to follow her, but didn’t.

  Zenovia jogged down the street and noticed Emil waving frantically. She wondered what his problem was, until she saw the bus approaching. She sprinted the rest of the way, because it was Saturday and the next bus wouldn’t be coming for forty-five minutes.

  She made it to the bus, but had to stop and catch her breath. Zenovia was not the athletic type—she was more into books than running track. Her body was not used to exerting any extra effort. She squatted with both hands on her thighs and took slow breaths.

  The bus driver opened the door and fussed. “Are you two coming or not?”

  Emil looked at Zenovia and she nodded. They stepped onto the bus and Emil paid both their fares while Zenovia found a seat. Emil preferred sitting near the back of the bus, especially for the thirty-five-minute ride to his side of town.

  They were going to Randall Park Mall—the hood mall. It was more of a hangout spot than a shopping area, especially since they had converted the movie theater into a one-dollar show that only had old movies.

  Emil plopped down next to Zenovia. “I thought you weren’t going to make it.”

  “I know! I haven’t run that hard in a long time. I think I may have pulled a muscle.”

  A slow grin started on Emil’s face. “Which muscle is it? Do you want a massage?”

  “Ha, ha. No, I do not want a massage from you!”

  “Why not?” Emil asked, an offended tone in his voice.

  “Because you are just trying to turn me into a sinner.”

  “You been hanging around those Brethren for too long. There is nothing sinful about a massage.”

  Zenovia leaned forward in her seat and looked out of the window. She figured that it would be pointless to explain to Emil that she was joking, and that she really didn’t think a massage was a sin. He seemed so sensitive when it came to the Brethren and sin. So much so that it got Zenovia thinking that maybe he believed in the Brethren’s teachings more than she did.

  She continued to look out of the window and watched the landscape change from suburban to ghetto almost immediately. The pretty little bungalows and colonials were soon replaced by raggedy storefront churches and corner check-cashing stores.

  “So are you ignoring me now?” Emil asked since Zenovia did not reply to his last comment.

  Still turned toward the window, Zenovia replied, “No, I’m not ignoring you. I’m thinking about what you said.”

  That was only partially true. She was thinking about Emil’s massage, but she was thinking more about the kiss that left a tingle on her lips. Of course, it was foolish for her to be thinking of a stolen kiss from Justin. He was leaving and so was Tristan. They were going to be soldiers in the Brethren army and she would be left behind as a childhood memory.

  She turned to face Emil. With his eyes he smiled, but there was also something else in his expression. Was it insecurity? Zenovia wasn’t sure.

  “You know I’m never going to be like Tristan or Kyle.”

  “I know. I don’t want you to be like them.”

  Emil’s heavy exhale made Zenovia think he was relieved. He said, “Sometimes I think… well… never mind.”

  “Tell me. Tell me what you think, Emil.”

  “Sometimes I think that I should just leave you alone. You deserve somebody like Tristan, I guess.”

  The sadness in his voice touched Zenovia. She put her hand over his and squeezed tightly. “I do deserve the best. That’s why I don’t want you to leave me alone.”

  Emil leaned in and tentatively planted a light kiss on Zenovia’s cheek. As sweet and innocent as it was, the kiss was just as thrilling and electric as the one Justin had stolen. Zenovia smiled what must’ve been an encouraging smile because Emil took a chance and placed a more skilled kiss on her lips.

  “Can I be your boyfriend?” he asked.

  “I don’t know… ca
n you?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Girl, what is up with that giant gold necklace?” Alyssa asked, spying out Emil’s gold chain that Zenovia was sporting.

  They stood in front of Zenovia’s locker as she quickly grabbed her French textbook. There had been homework in that class but Zenovia had not completed it. She’d spent the entire weekend hanging with Emil.

  Zenovia reached up and ran her fingers over the thick, heavy jewelry. “Emil wanted me to wear it.”

  Zenovia smiled wistfully as she remembered how she came to be in possession of the chain. After Emil had kissed her out in public on the bus, he’d put the chain around her neck.

  He’d said, “Do you want to wear my chain?”

  “I don’t know,” Zenovia had replied. “Is this to let everyone know that I belong to you?”

  “Not everyone,” he’d responded without a hint of hesitation. “Just Tristan.”

  Mia interrupted Zenovia’s reminiscence by asking, “Is he your official boyfriend now?”

  “Yes. It’s official.”

  Mia locked eyes with Alyssa and then they both looked at the floor. Zenovia was confused by their uncomfortable body language.

  She asked, “Is there a problem?”

  Alyssa replied, “No… I guess not. He’s really cool.”

  “He’s ghetto,” Mia stated. “But if that’s what you like, I guess you should go with it.”

  Zenovia paused on ripping into Mia because Tristan was walking toward them with a smile on his face. Mia beamed a smile at Tristan in return.

  “Hey, y’all!”

  “Hey, Tristan,” Mia replied, still smiling, “take a look at Zenovia’s gangster chain!”

  Tristan peered at the glistening chain with the huge letter E dangling from the center. His smile instantly faded.

  “You’re kidding, right? You’re not wearing that dude’s chain around like you’re his girlfriend.”

  Zenovia was beyond offended. “I’m dead serious, Tristan. Emil doesn’t have any problem claiming me, so why should I be ashamed of him?”

  “Well, if he’s letting you wear his jewelry, you must be giving him something he can feel.”

  Zenovia slammed her locker shut, and strode away from Tristan and his smug facial expression. Only a preppy Brethren guy would think that quoting a Curtis Mayfield song was an acceptable diss. As she walked away she could hear the ripples of laughter from Mia. How could Tristan say that he was her friend, yet be so cruel?

  She dashed into the classroom and took her seat before Tristan had the chance to catch up with her and offer a fake apology. But contrary to what Zenovia thought would happen, Tristan walked into the room and right past Zenovia. He snubbed her as if she was the one who had offended him.

  Kyle sits on the floor in his kitchen, eyes glazed, head drooping, and still wearing his pajamas from the night before. The pajama shirt is long-sleeved, but the sleeves stick to his arms. The beige color of the shirt is stained dark red and a knife lies on the floor next to him.

  He isn’t moving.

  His body, which is supported by the kitchen cabinets, slides down into the pool of blood that surrounds him. Somewhere in the distance a woman screams.

  Zenovia abruptly snapped out of her vision and said aloud, “Where’s Kyle?”

  “Excusez-moi, mademoiselle?” the French teacher asked.

  Zenovia closed her eyes tightly and shook her head. She gave a desperate glance to Tristan and mouthed her question again. “Where’s Kyle?”

  Tristan’s attitude immediately melted. He said, “I don’t know.”

  Zenovia stood from her seat, grabbed her things, and started for the door. She didn’t wait for permission, a hall pass, or for Tristan. The vision had seemed more urgent than any she’d ever had.

  She was halfway down the hallway before she realized that Tristan was right behind her.

  “Zee, where are you going?” Tristan asked.

  “To Kyle’s house.”

  “How are you getting there?”

  Zenovia hadn’t thought about that. “On foot, I guess.”

  “Come on. I’ll drive.”

  They drove in silence. Not because of Tristan’s ridiculous outburst from before, but because Zenovia had more on her mind than that. The vision had been ghastly; all in black and white except for Kyle’s blood.

  As they approached Kyle’s street, the sound of sirens drowned out Zenovia’s thoughts. In front of Kyle’s apartment building were two fire trucks and an ambulance.

  “We’re too late,” Zenovia said, not knowing if it was the truth although she felt it was so.

  Tristan didn’t reply, but parked his car as close as possible. He ran out and toward the apartment building, leaving Zenovia to follow.

  Zenovia stopped in her tracks as two paramedics pushed a stretcher from the apartment building. The white sheet that covered it was soaked through with blood in several places. Tristan, who had continued on to the apartment, was stopped by two firemen.

  Kyle’s mother ran from the building, screaming. It was the same scream Zenovia had heard in her vision. She caught sight of Tristan and staggered over in his direction.

  “Tristan!” the distraught mother howled. “All he wanted was to serve the Brethren! That’s all he ever wanted.”

  Involuntary tears started down Zenovia’s cheeks. She wiped them away angrily. What good were her visions? Audrey always told her they were a gift from God, but what kind of gift was this! Seeing things when there was no time to stop them was not a gift.

  Kyle’s mother continued her sorrowful crying. “He j-just wanted to serve the Brethren!”

  Zenovia had been staring at the ground, but the sound of Kyle’s mother’s voice caused her head to snap upward. Actually it wasn’t the sound of her voice. It was her words.

  She’d said that Kyle had wanted to serve the Brethren.

  Not God.

  The Brethren.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Zenovia watched sullenly as Audrey made a mess of their kitchen. She was making fried chicken, spaghetti, and banana pudding. Her trademark funeral foods.

  She was cooking for Kyle’s funeral.

  Phillip walked up and stood next to Zenovia. She looked at him, acknowledging his presence, but said nothing.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Zenovia didn’t know how to answer that question. She did feel all right, or rather at peace. Kyle had made a choice to take his own life and there was nothing she could do about that. But somehow she felt that she shouldn’t be all right. She thought that she should be traumatized.

  Phillip didn’t wait for her to reply. He said, “Kyle was troubled. I believe the Holy Spirit revealed that to the Council of Elders at the Brethren headquarters. That’s why they didn’t accept him.”

  Audrey said, “Whoever revealed what, the boy is still dead and gone.”

  “You’re right. He is gone,” Phillip said. “What are you cooking anyway? It’s breakfast time. Why are you frying chicken?”

  “The Brethren don’t take food to the family when someone dies?” Zenovia asked.

  Phillip replied, “Yes, when there is a funeral. But Kyle… well he committed suicide. There won’t be a funeral.”

  “Well, that’s all the more reason for me to take something over there.”

  Phillip said, “I can’t allow you to do that, Audrey. The Brethren are pretty steadfast on this.”

  Audrey’s expression instantly darkened. She was holding a chicken wing that she had just floured and was about to drop it into the heated skillet. She took that piece of chicken and hurled it across the room at Phillip.

  Zenovia sighed and stepped out of Audrey’s line of fire, while Phillip ducked. She walked toward her bedroom and didn’t even look back when she heard pots and pans being thrown around the kitchen. Without her medication, it took so little to set Audrey off.

  When Audrey wasn’t having an episode she was fine. Almost normal. She was funny and vibra
nt. She was affectionate with Phillip, cooking huge elaborate meals and keeping him in the bedroom for hours at a time.

  But once she was set off, it was a nightmare. And Zenovia was tired. Control had been taken away from Zenovia and she did not feel equipped to handle the aftermath.

  Once she closed her bedroom door, her pager buzzed on her hip. She looked down at it, and it was the Batistes’ phone number.

  She picked up the phone in her bedroom and dialed. Tristan answered, “Hello?”

  “Hey, Tristan. It’s me, Zee. Did you page me?”

  “Hi, Zee. I did page you. Are you going to school?”

  “No… are you?”

  “Yes. I was checking to see if you needed a ride.”

  Zenovia frowned. “Your best friend just committed suicide yesterday and you’re going to school?”

  “There’s no reason for sorrow.”

  “There’s no reason for sorrow? Tristan! What do you mean? How could you say that?”

  “Kyle will be resurrected in the end. The Bible says to let the dead bury the dead. The fact that Kyle was so troubled in his mind shows that the demonic forces in this world are busy.”

  Zenovia screamed, “Demonic forces? He was depressed! And you know what else? The Brethren pushed him over the edge. Who rejects a boy trying to volunteer?”

  “Zenovia.” Tristan’s voice quieted to a whisper. “Don’t talk like that about the Brethren. Don’t invite God’s wrath on your life.”

  Zenovia slammed the phone down. She couldn’t listen to a nanosecond more of Tristan’s Brethren rhetoric. She wanted to let loose like Audrey and throw some things at someone.

  Her phone rang again. “Hello!”

  “Zee, what’s up?”

  Zenovia sighed. “Emil. Hey. Why aren’t you at school?”

  “Told Moms I wasn’t feeling good.”

  “Oh, I’m home too.”

  Emil laughed. “Obviously. I’m talking to you, right?”

  “Ha ha. I’m not exactly myself, you know.”