by Tia Hines
I looked at her like she was crazy. Can you believe her? My aunt had lost her damn mind.
The doorbell rang, and it was the police. Before my aunt let them in, she came charging upstairs into my room, snatched me up, threw me on the bed face first, and tied my hands behind my back. At first, I didn’t know what she was doing, but I quickly figured it out. I started hollering. Until she covered my mouth with gray tape. She even tied my ankles together, where I couldn’t move at all.
Then the doorbell rang again. She rushed out of my room, leaving me tied up.
My aunt was really trippin’ on some mafia-type status. I listened in agony to the mixed-up story she was telling the police. I couldn’t believe my ears. She told them that I was so distraught and upset that I cried myself to sleep, and that waking me up would really not be a good idea. And they bought it too.
I was fighting to get loose, so I could set the record straight. I fought so hard, it caused me to tumble to the floor. I think at that point the police had to be on their way out the door because, within seconds of my hitting the floor, Auntie Linda came barging into my room, her lethal weapon in hand, the infamous thick brown leather belt.
“You wanna be causing a ruckus while I was downstairs speaking to the law? Huh? This is for your own good,” she ranted as she whupped me. “You almost got me busted. You get on my nerves, little hussy!”
I rolled around on the floor like I was on fire.
“Stay still, li’l heiffa! Rolling around here like you in a jungle or something. Keep yo’ ass still!”
I kept rolling as if I didn’t hear anything she said. She was crazy, if she thought I was gonna lie still while she burned my legs with that leather.
“Keep rolling... ’cause the more you do it, the longer I’m going to beat you.”
What type of ultimatum was that? Could I lie still while she beat my ass? I couldn’t win for losing. So you already know what I had to do. Yes, take it like a champ, plain and simple.
After giving me what she would call “a good ass-whuppin’”, I sat on the floor balled up in a knot. Every scene from that day replayed in my mind. I wanted my aunt to go to hell for what she had done to me, and for lying on Greg to the police. That was the day my hate for her became permanent.
Chapter 7
Boy, was I eager to get to school the next morning. The anxiety was a true adrenaline rush for me. I literally shut my eyes three hours before it was time for me to get up. I kept saying to myself, You gotta get to Greg. You gotta get to Greg. You gotta get to Greg.
Yeah, I was on some real junkie status, but I couldn’t help it. It was imperative that I talk to him. I had to clear my name. I didn’t want him to think that I’d lied on him, especially if the police had gotten to him first.
I rushed into school with three minutes to find Greg before homeroom period started. As soon as I stepped foot in the door, all eyes were on me. That was the sign, y’all. My life was over. They knew. The kids knew. They knew I had cried rape, but it wasn’t true.
I contemplated skipping homeroom because Greg was definitely the priority, but getting marked absent was only going to lead to more trouble. So I had to go to homeroom and wait it out. I tapped my foot impatiently, staring at the round analog clock. The period was almost over, and right before the bell was about to ring, the damn principal delayed it for an announcement. I was about to lose my mind with all the setbacks.
“Excuse me, students,” he said. “We have a very important announcement, a sad one. Last night, if you all didn’t hear on the news, Gregory Little died after he was shot in the neck during an altercation with another teenager. Ah . . . bereavement counselors are—oh, this is hard for me. I’m sorry—they are available all day if any student needs them. Thank you.”
I thought, Oh my God! That’s why people were pointing and staring at me. They knew Greg was gone.
My world immediately shut down. I lost sight and focus. My heart was beating triple times its normal rate, like I was running a fifty-yard hurdle. I couldn’t move. My legs stiffened, and my mind went blank. I cursed God out from the moment I was wheeled from homeroom to the guidance office. How could He? Every safety net I treasured and cherished, He took them away from me.
Words can’t explain the pain I felt at that time. My best friend, my only friend, was taken away from me, and I didn’t even blame the murderer. I blamed my aunt and God.
I blamed my aunt because, who knows how Greg felt when he left my house that night? Then I blame God because He let Greg, a humble person, get shot and die. To this day, I still ask why? I don’t know though. All I can say is Greg’s death took a toll on me, and my entire world remained shattered.
Later on that day after school, Uncle Frank was surprised to see me arrive home early.
“You skipped practice today?”
“No, it was cancelled.”
“What’s wrong with you? Don’t come in here with an attitude. It was your fault you got yourself in trouble last night, young lady.”
I sat on the sofa, tears forming in my eyes.
“Desire, I know how you feel, but you were wrong. And you’re not going to be able to cry your way out of this one. You know what you pulled yesterday was irresponsible, disrespectful, and downright defiant. You had company without permission and—”
“He’s dead, so you won’t have to worry about me being irresponsible, disrespectful, and defiant.”
“You watch your—Who’s dead?”
“Greg. He’s dead. He got shot. Somebody killed him. They announced it in school today.” Tears streamed down my face.
“Oh, Desire, baby, come here!”
Just then my aunt walked through the living room. “What the hell is wrong with her now?”
“Her friend Greg was killed.”
“Somebody got him before I did? Humph.” She smirked.
Uncle Frank lifted his index finger. “Linda, now last night you went overboard. Don’t you dare.”
“I hate you, Auntie Linda!” I yelled. “It’s all your fault anyway!” I ran to my room. I slammed my door and sat in the same place I’d hid Greg—the closet.
Uncle Frank came in some minutes later and found me. “Desire, come out of the closet for a second. I want to show you something.”
I was reluctant at first, but this was Uncle Frank. There was no reason to be stubborn with him, even if he did give me the silent treatment sometimes.
I came out of the closet slowly and noticed he had a crisp black-and-white photo in his hand of two young boys with their arms around each other’s neck. “Who’s that?”
“That’s me and your grandfather, my brother. He always thought he was the boss of me,” Uncle Frank reminisced.
“Who’s older?”
“Take a guess.”
He handed me the photo, and I analyzed it. “He was the oldest,” I said, pointing to my grandfather.
“Nope. He was three years younger than me, believe it or not.”
“But he’s so much bigger than you.”
“I know. That’s how he got his name Li’l Big Man. He got his height from Daddy, and I took after Mama.”
“He’s dead now, right?”
“Yes, your grandfather Eddie died some time ago, before you were born. It kills me to this day to even talk about it. It all happened right before my eyes too.”
I thought he was about to cry, but he just balled up his fist and continued to talk.
“You know, he was always the courageous type. He always wanted to help somebody. Sort of like your friend Greg. Anyway, one afternoon he and I were walking home from work, and he noticed these teenage guys shoving this girl around. Before I could stop him, he got himself in the middle of it.
“It was about six guys, but he didn’t care. I tried to talk him out of it. He was persistent though. He wanted to help this young lady. He always had a thing about protecting women. But, anyway, her clothes were ripped, and these guys were just tormenting her, and tossing her every which w
ay within their circle.
“Eddie, being a macho man, spoke no words and went in, fists first. He knocked a couple of guys down, and I had no other choice but to jump in. We ran the boys off.
“I had run ahead of Eddie. I was always the faster one. But when I stopped to catch my breath, I turned around and noticed he was way behind me, moving funny. That instant, he fell to the ground. He was having one of his seizures again. I ran over to him, but there was nothing I could do. The seizure was too far along.”
“What made him have seizures?”
“I don’t know. But I tell you what I do know.”
He blinked repeatedly. I guess, to hold back tears.
“I was sad for a while, ’cause it hit me hard. I was in his presence, and I was unable to save his life. I didn’t let it stop me though. I didn’t let it stop me from going on with my life. That stayed with me for a long time, but I had to let it go. I couldn’t let being guilty for anything hold me down. I had to be strong, especially for your mom and the family. Your mother was just getting through college. She couldn’t get anyone weak in her corner. I had to get it together. And I’m not saying you may not cry here and there, because you will. But try to think about the good times you all had. Laugh your cries away. It helps. Believe you me.”
“Yeah, Greg was a joker.” I laughed, picturing him being silly.
“See, there you go. I wish I could have gotten better acquainted with him. I knew he was a good person, despite what I’ve heard.”
“Yeah, he was like the big brother I never had and . . . and now he’s gone,” I cried.
The tears flowed, and Uncle Frank embraced me.
“Oh, I know it hurts, but you have to remember he’s in a better place.”
“But why?” I cried hysterically. “Why did he have to leave?”
“You know he didn’t choose to leave, Desire. You know that. The Lord called on him to lead a different life. His work here has been done.”
“Why couldn’t he choose someone else?” I whispered.
“Desire, I can’t answer that. I don’t know. Only the Man above can give that answer. I do know that you need to stop crying, and laugh a little more. Think about the good times, like the time your track team went skating. What was that story you told me?”
I burst out laughing from the image in my mind.
“Oh yeah, you said he couldn’t skate for nothing. You said he kept falling and every time he tried to get up, he’d end up right back on the floor.”
“Yeah, that was funny.” I laughed, wiping my eyes.
“We definitely had fun skating that day.”
It felt good to think about the good times with Greg. It didn’t help me cease the crying too much, but it did calm my nerves a bit. I was still hurt to my soul and damn near boohooed a river. What do you expect? I missed him, and the thought of not being able to hear his voice or see him again hurt my heart to the core.
For the rest of the week I skipped school and track practice. I spent my time in the library doing my work for my classes that had given me a syllabus in advance. I kept my head in whatever books I could get my hands on. I was doing me. I hadn’t even thought about the fact that the school was going to call my house to report my absences. That’s how gone I was, but reality hit quickly once Auntie Linda got the message that I had been absent from school for x amount of days. She was furious with me.
Shoot, Uncle Frank was flat-out disgusted. Once again, he didn’t bother to utter a word to me. Not a single word. He ignored me for two days straight. And when he shut me out this time, I felt like I had nobody. Greg was gone, and now my uncle had me feeling like he didn’t care about me. When he did decide to talk to me the day before the funeral, it didn’t feel genuine.
It seemed like he was forcing himself to do something he really didn’t want to do. I know I messed up. Okay, I knew that, but I was a young lost soul grieving. My aunt wouldn’t let me stay home, and going to school just made me think of Greg even more, which caused me to lose focus in class. Obviously, skipping school wasn’t the greatest choice in the world. But, hey, I was mourning. I thought at least my uncle would have understood that. He always understood me, but it seemed as if he no longer had empathy for me.
I don’t know. I couldn’t call it. Maybe I just missed Greg and was looking for my uncle to fill the space. You know, take away the pain and just be Greg, but that was impossible. I was asking for a miracle. That’s what being distraught and confused can do to you. Greg was my backbone, my teacher, my friend, my big brother from another mother, and just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone, alone to fend for myself in this house of hurt and in this world of hate.
The day of the funeral my aunt wasn’t trying to let me go, and Uncle Frank wasn’t home to back me up.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To Greg’s funeral.”
“Oh no, missy. If you can skip school, then you can skip the funeral.”
“I can’t miss the funeral, Auntie Linda.”
“You should have thought about that before you decided to cut school.”
“Can I please go to the funeral?”
“No. I said no.”
I ran to my room crying. How can you compare cutting school to going to a funeral? It wasn’t like I was trying to go to a party or something. I was going to a goddamn funeral, and I wasn’t going to let her stop me. Oh yes, y’all, I got brave with it. I took matters into my own hands. I got my purse, put my shoes back on, grabbed my notebook, and walked down the stairs like I was grown. There was no stopping me.
“Desire, I don’t have time for your shit today. Take your narrow behind back upstairs and pretend the funeral’s in your room.”
I ignored her and kept walking toward the door.
“Oh no, you don’t!”
She reached for my purse, and I clutched it tightly against my side. She was not about to get a hold of me.
I dashed out the door. To hell with my aunt. Although she said no, I went to the funeral anyway.
The church was packed with people. I couldn’t even sit down. I had to stand the entire service. It was cool though. I managed to stand tall, with heavy tears here and there. I didn’t feel awkward or out of place. I just remember wishing the whole thing had never happened. I wanted it to be a dream; a dream that was never meant to come true. Shit was real. Greg was gone. Dead. Lying face up in a coffin ahead of me.
During the funeral, they allowed family and friends to get up and say a few words. I wanted to read a poem I had written for him, but I was scared. There were too many people in sight. I watched everyone else go up and speak. Then the pastor gave the final call, and I found myself walking to the podium. I don’t know how I was able to walk up there, but I did. I ain’t superstitious or nothing, nor do I believe in all that weird ghostly stuff, but seriously, it felt like Greg’s spirit had taken over my body and made my fear disappear.
I stood up behind the podium with my head held high and recited a poem I wrote, titled “Until We Meet Again.”
My school friend
My home friend
My phone friend
My best friend
My big brother
My shoulder to cry on
My listening ear
My safety zone
I wanna lie with you
Die with you
No longer want to cry for you
You left me alone
I no longer have a safety zone
Your mother
Your father
I wish we shared the same
No sisters
Nor brother
But I was your sister in vain
It’s hard to say good-bye
When hello is always said
You were my comforter
My guidance
I wanna lie with you instead
Forgive those oh Lord
For they know not what good You have created
Ease the pain of broken heart
s
Touch the lives of their souls
Lessen their burden of hate
Free the madness from their souls
So until we meet again
Let the good rest in peace
Why’d you leave me dear Greg
Again we shall meet
His father acknowledged that my poem was beautiful. Then he embraced me. My tears ran strong.
“It’s okay. He’s in a better place.”
I dried my eyes as I listened to his words of comfort. I walked back to where I was standing while I listened to his father make his speech.
He said, “My son was one of the most humble young men you could ever meet. He surprised me sometimes with the things he did for people. He had a one-in-a-million heart, and I wish he was still here to share it. He was an excellent athlete and an honor roll student. I can’t think of any sport that he didn’t play or any subject that he couldn’t master. He was one of those kids that didn’t care about winning or losing either. He came up with his own concept that even if you lose, you are still a winner within yourself, because you tried, you gave your best. He was connected like that, you know. He gave more than he had to at everything.”
“He was hoping to go to Georgia Tech next fall. He just mailed his early admissions application . . . the day . . . the day he was killed. He would have gone to college and taken over the family business. He had it all planned out. He used to ask me all the time, ‘Dad, is it true that since I don’t have your last name that means I can’t take over the family business?’ My brother would always tease Greg, saying, ‘You ain’t no Taylor!’”
“His last name may not have been Taylor, but he was a Taylor at heart. I miss him dearly. He was truly an angel here on earth. He touched many hearts, and I-I hate to see him . . . go.”
After the funeral was over, I stood in line and embraced the family, feeling like I should have been standing up there with them. Listen to me; like I was blood. I felt like it though. I really did. That day was rough for me. My first time attending a funeral, and I had no support. I had no friends to comfort me. There was no one by my side. I had to walk in the church alone and walk out alone.