by Traci Bee
“Okay, let’s go,” he instructed as they headed up the driveway to the porch.
The front door swung open before the officer could knock.
“Come on in,” Ricardo said to the officer. Simone knew the invitation wasn’t extended to her.
“Girl, why you ain’t go in?” Lavon asked from the bottom of the front steps as the officer disappeared.
“I don’t go in when he’s home. They come out and get Jordan in the morning and bring her back out in the evening.”
“Get the fuck outta here!” Lavon said in disbelief.
“Yeah, and I should tell the police to search the basement.”
“Search the basement for what?”
“Girl, please. Ricardo is the biggest weed-head around.”
The officer opened the screen door. “Ma’am,” he said to Simone, “I need you to come in.”
Simone shot Lavon a look of disgust as she crossed the threshold she had vowed never to cross.
“Officer, can you come back here, please?” Angela’s tone was tender and delicate, unlike her vicious bark over the phone. Dressed in a pale blue flannel robe and matching slippers, she stood in the hallway that led to the back rooms. “Simone, you wait out there.”
“I wanna see my baby.”
“You heard what she said,” Ricardo ordered as they headed to the back.
Simone plopped on the couch, confused. What the fuck was going on? What had she done? Tapping her foot, she looked down at the floor as her anger liquefied into tears.
“Hello! Hello!” a voice called out.
What she doing here? Simone asked herself as Beatrice strolled through the door.
“Hey, Simone,” she greeted casually. “Haven’t talked to you in a few weeks.”
“Yeah.” Simone looked up from the floor, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Jordan’s been over here.”
Ricardo heard the front door close and peered around the hallway.
“You can come on back,” he said to Beatrice.
Simone sucked her teeth. This is some fuckin’ bullshit, she screamed to herself. She hadn’t seen Jordan in two weeks, and just like that, Ms. Kennard was allowed in the back room. Why was she there anyway?
Minutes later, Ricardo and the officer strolled out to the living room. The officer caught Simone’s attention and beckoned her outside with a wave of his hand.
Simone stood from the couch and followed the officer outside. “What about my baby?”
“I’ll explain out here. It’s okay, though.”
“Have a nice evening, Officer,” Ricardo said.
The door closed and the deadbolt latched. Lavon stood outside at a complete loss as Simone and the officer proceeded down the steps.
“Where’s Jordan?”
“She’s inside,” the officer informed as he led the girls back to Thomas’s van.
“Okay, Ms. Woodard, here’s the deal. Because she’s a preemie and it’s late,” he said with a glance at his wristwatch, “your mom suggested you come back tomorrow and get her. Your daughter was asleep, and your mom needs time to get her stuff together.”
“That’s some bullshit!” Simone screamed, bursting into tears. “I want my baby tonight!” she demanded. “She can keep her stuff, but I want my fuckin’ baby.”
“Miss,” the officer touched Simone lightly on the shoulder. “Calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Simone said, snatching away from him. She hadn’t called the police for their sympathy. She wanted her baby like she said. What the fuck was going on? Why was Beatrice there and still inside? Why didn’t she make Angela give Jordan back?
“Calm down, Simone,” Lavon said.
“Ms. Woodard, like I said, your daughter was already asleep, and your mom wants time to get her things together.”
“But I didn’t even get to see her,” she cried. “Y’all got to see her, and I couldn’t even fuckin’ look at her.”
“Come on, Simone,” Lavon said, taking Simone by the arm. “Let’s just come back tomorrow like he said.”
“Yeah,” the officer confirmed. “Tomorrow is more than enough time for your mother to have her ready. If you want an officer to meet you here tomorrow, just give us a call.”
● ● ●
“Thanks for calling me, Angela,” Beatrice said as she cradled Jordan in her arms, rocking wearily in the glider. “This nursery is beautiful.”
Angela spent the last two weeks transforming Simone’s old room into the very nursery that she’d planned for her and Ricardo’s little girl. Tucked away in a hope chest buried in the back of her closet were the paint swatches for the walls and the trim and the dancing white and pink teddy bear border with its coordinating comforter set.
Poor little helpless Jordan, abandoned by her drug-addicted mother, Simone—at least that was the lie Angela spread like butter. When Alicia told Angela about the crack falling from Simone’s pocket, Angela began to think there was some truth to her story after all. Jordan was now her baby. The baby Simone had dropped off two weeks ago and simply forgot about. Angela had Ricardo convinced, and now, as Beatrice sat mesmerized by the nursery and the fact that Angela had to call the police on Simone, yep, she had her convinced, too. Still, she needed to convince Kevin so she could get his signature on the custody papers.
With Simone supposedly on drugs and missing somewhere out in the streets, the family court shared that Angela had to obtain the father’s signature, or Jordan would become a ward of the courts. A ward of Angela’s lies. But Angela knew she could convince Kevin, just like she’d convinced everybody else. If only he would call.
“I haven’t seen Baby Girl in a few weeks. I was wondering why Simone hadn’t called.”
“Yeah, Jordan’s been here with us. Simone hadn’t called us either. Then, all of a sudden, she pops up today,” Ricardo said.
“She can’t go back to Simone tomorrow,” Angela said. “We gotta do something.”
“Did you tell her about the crack that fell out her pocket?” Ricardo asked Angela.
“Damn, is that what she’s smoking?” Beatrice asked as she laid Jordan back in her crib.
“Who knows? So what are we gonna do? The police said we have to give her back tomorrow. I have the custody papers, but there’s no way I can get Kevin’s signature by tomorrow. I’ve written him a few times asking him to call, but he hasn’t.”
“Where the papers?” Beatrice asked. “Shit, that’s my son, and this is my granddaughter. I’ll sign his doggone name. Won’t nobody know it’s not his signature but the three of us.”
“Angela, you have them?” Ricardo asked.
“Yeah,” Angela said, fighting to contain her victory. “Of course, I have them.”
● ● ●
Eight o’clock the next morning, Simone and Lavon pulled up in front of Angela’s house, but both cars were gone. After waiting for over an hour, Simone headed back home, pissed off.
Hour after hour, Simone called. Morning transformed into afternoon, and still no one answered. Something was up. Picking up the phone, Simone called Ms. Kennard to see if she knew anything.
“Hey, Ms. Kennard, have you talked to my mother by chance?”
“Naw, not today.”
“Hmm,” Simone said into the phone. “The police told her she had to give Jordan back today. I’ve been over there and everything but they weren’t there and nobody’s answering.”
“Well, she couldn’t have gone far. Just keep calling.”
Simone was sick of calling. Instead, she called the police and made arrangements for them to meet her again. Within twenty minutes, she pulled up in front of her mother’s house. An officer was already waiting for her. Without being asked, Simone greeted the officer with Jordan’s birth certificate and her driver’s license, and then she shared what had taken place the night prior.
The officer walked to the door and rang the bell. Unlike the night before, Angela appeared jovial, standing with a bright-eyed and bushy-tai
led Jordan on her hip, sucking away on her pacifier.
“I guess you need to see this?” Angela passed the officer a piece of paper.
The officer skimmed the document and passed it back to Angela.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Simone stood in uttered awe as Angela closed the door and latched the deadbolt.
“What happened? Where’s my baby?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” The officer shrugged his shoulders and headed down the steps. “There’s nothing I can do. Your mother has custody.”
● ● ●
Simone was an emotional disaster. She rang her mother’s phone like a stalker, but her calls went unanswered. Yet, the more they ignored her calls, the more annoying the calls became.
“Simone,” Angela finally answered close to four in the morning, “if you keep playing on my phone, I’m going to press charges. That’s my first and last warning. Now what is it that you want?”
“I want my baby!” Simone screamed. “Why would you do this to me? What did I ever do to you to make you hate me so much?”
“Simone, don’t play innocent with me,” Angela said. Her calmness fueled Simone’s fury. “You know good and well you weren’t ready for no baby. What about the drugs that fell out of your pocket, hmm? And one of Ms. Kennard’s neighbors said you were high when you came to pick Jordan up.”
“That’s a lie. I’ve never gotten—”
“Simone, save it! I don’t want to hear it! And let me tell you something. I have witnesses ready to testify. So you remember that if you even think about fighting it. Now stop playing on my phone.”
“I HATE YOU! I FUCKIN’ HATE YOU!” Simone screamed to the dial tone for Angela had hung up.
Despite Angela’s threats, Simone pulled out the phonebook and called a few attorneys. However, it seemed as if they, too, were on Angela’s side.
“Getting custody isn’t easy. You have to be able to prove that the parent is unfit. Obviously, your mother was able to do that,” one attorney advised over the phone. “What could she have possibly used against you?”
“I’m not sure,” Simone lied. Naïve to the law, she was too afraid to mention the drugs that had been in her possession.
“Well, in order to get your daughter back, you’re going to have to convince the judge that the accusations your mother made aren’t true. I must admit I’m baffled,” he added. “Why would your mother do something like this? I mean, it’s your mother. And I’m sure a judge is going to wonder the same thing.”
“Thank you,” Simone muttered as the tears she’d grown accustomed to shedding resurfaced. She just didn’t understand how her own mother could do something like this. It was the ultimate act of betrayal, and for what?
No matter how many attorneys Simone called, the advice was all the same. Nothing in life mattered now. She disassociated herself from friends and stopped showing for work without as much as a phone call to excuse her absence. After being a no-show for two weeks, she received a letter from her job, terminating her employment within the government. Mentally, she’d already quit her job and life.
Thomas couldn’t sit back and watch his daughter sink deeper into her depression. “Listen to me, Simone. You’re letting your momma win.”
Simone broke down and told Thomas everything. The drugs they had found outside, the scent in her clothes from Donté’s joint, and the little crack-filled baggies that Alicia had seen fall from her jacket.
“Simone, you gotta get yourself together. Laying in the bed crying is not gonna get Jordan back. I know you not on no damn drugs, just like your momma know. Get yourself together and get your baby back. Find you another job, something you would want to stick with. Become successful, baby girl, and get your got damn baby back from your crazy ass momma. You bigger and better than any rumor she can start. Show your momma and everybody else. Don’t let her win!”
“But all the attorneys…”
“I don’t give a got-damn about them attorneys. Listen to what I’m telling you. You get yourself together. Get another job, get you a place and become successful. A judge will give you back your daughter.”
Chapter Seventeen
November 1989
Kevin took a detour through the courtyard on his way back to his cell. Dale rushed over to him, nearly knocking him down.
“Hey, Kevin, man,” Dale panted, fighting to catch his breath. “He over there. You want Kong to handle his ass?”
Kevin knew just who he was referring to—his fake-ass buddy, James. He scanned the crowded courtyard searching for him.
“Naw,” Kevin said. “I got that. Where the fuck he at?”
Dale pointed toward the basketball court. “Over there.”
With fire in his eyes and revenge in his heart, Kevin headed to the basketball court, ready to add to his prison sentence.
“Ah! What’s up, Kevin, man!” James hollered out as Kevin stormed in his direction. “Come on over here and help me whip these bammas!”
James knelt down to ties his shoes, dropping the basketball at his feet. Kevin slowed his pace as a shadow larger than his own fell over James.
James stood just in time to connect with the twenty-five pound dumbbell being swung at his head. The forceful impact split his skull. Blood splattered on Kevin’s socks and shoes as he watched James fall to the asphalt, dead, with his eyes wide open. A wad of spit landed on James’s face, mixing with the blood.
“That’s for Toby, nigga,” the unknown man said in his Jamaican accent.
As the alarm rang out, Kevin locked eyes with the strange Jamaican standing before him.
“We ain’t got no beef with you,” the Jamaican said.
Yeah, whatever, Kevin said to himself. I’m watching your muthafuckin’ ass anyway.
Kevin sat in his cell with James’s blood all over his legs.
“SHOWER!” the guard yelled.
When the iron gates popped open, Kevin and a handful of the other inmates headed for the shower.
“Damn, man,” Dale said, catching up with Kevin. “Can you believe that shit? Your boy got clocked right in his fuckin’ head. Man, that shit was something.”
Kevin had no words. A part of him wished he’d swung the weights. The person he’d once considered his closest confidant next to Fat Ed had destroyed his whole life. Just the thought pissed Kevin off all over again.
My muthafuckin’ friend. Deep in thought, Kevin closed his eyes and allowed the shower water to run down his head.
Dale tapped Kevin on the arm.
“What!” Kevin snapped.
“Shit, man,” Dale whispered. “One of the booty bandits looking at you and jerkin’ his shit, Kevin. Look.”
Kevin looked toward the end of the shower. A huge white guy covered in tattoos stared back at him. Licking his pale pink lips, he stroked his penis and blew Kevin a kiss.
The devil himself took over Kevin as he rushed to the other end of the shower. Blood splashed all over the dingy white tiles as Kevin took his frustrations out on the booty bandit. The inmates’ cheers echoed throughout the shower, alarming the guards and setting off the sirens for the second time in an hour.
A few of the inmates pulled Kevin off the guy, who lay drenched in his own blood on the floor of the shower. Ending the confrontation saved Kevin from an old-fashioned prison guard beat-down, but it didn’t save him from the sixty days he’d have to serve in the black hole, isolated from the rest of the prison population.
● ● ●
Kevin’s nightmares tracked him down yet again. The screams and cries were louder than usual as he ran through the dark forest. The trees had come to life, dripping with blood. Kevin ran, ducking and dodging the branches as they reached out to grab him. Something was chasing him, and today it was faster than ever. He sprinted toward the light.
“Run, Kevin,” he heard a male’s voice encourage. A hand appeared through the light, reaching out to him. Whatever was chasing him was on his heels. Without a second thought, Kevin reached
for the hand and was yanked into an area so bright that it nearly blinded him. He threw up his arms, covering his eyes. Slowly, the light began to soften. Kevin lowered his arms and gasped as he came face-to-face with Mr. Johnson.
“No, Kevin.” Mr. Johnson smiled, reading the panic on his face.
“Am I dead?” Kevin asked anyway.
Mr. Johnson raised an eyebrow. “Kevin, you know good and well that if you died today, you and I probably wouldn’t be in the same place.”
A train of tears poured from Kevin’s eyes as he stared at Mr. Johnson and his heavenly glow. “Mr. Johnson, I’m sorry,” he cried, dropping to his knees. “You know I didn’t mean to kill you. I would never, ever do anything to harm you. I loved you like a father.”
“I know that, son. I know that,” Mr. Johnson said. “But, Kevin…would you have killed Toby? What about James or the guy you nearly beat to death in the shower?”
Kevin was so caught up in his emotions that he couldn’t respond. He sat on the ground and bawled. Mr. Johnson lowered himself to the ground and patted Kevin on the back in an attempt at comfort.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Johnson,” Kevin cried. “I’m sorry. I didn’t go to—”
“Kevin, Kevin…It was an accident, son. I know,” Mr. Johnson interrupted. “Do you remember our talks at the nursing home?”
Engulfed in his emotions, Kevin could only answer with a nod of his head.
“I told you I was gonna be watching you, and God has allowed me to do so. That’s why you didn’t get to James. I wish I could’ve prevented his death altogether, but I could only help you. The only reason I didn’t stop the fight in the shower was because you needed this time to be alone, to think about what it is you’re going to do with your life.”
Mr. Johnson helped Kevin stand to his feet. “I don’t know any pain now, son. But don’t let my death be in vain. I’ve seen your future.” He lifted Kevin’s head with his fingers and smiled with a raised brow. “But the only way you can have it is if you get yourself together. If you’re really, really sorry, you’ll do it for me.”