Two Tears in a Bucket

  “I didn’t cheat on you, either.”

  “What?” Simone said, sucking her teeth.

  “I mean, I know it doesn’t make a difference now, but I didn’t cheat on you. Nothing happened between me and Rhonda. She was an old flame. I let her come over because I wanted to tell her about you and Jordan,” Kevin explained, smiling shyly at his daughter. “Me and her had always been so on-again, off-again and I wanted her to know that we were done. But things got outta control because I forgot she was coming over. Before I knew it, y’all were going at it, a bunch of niggas was outside, and you were swinging a bat.”

  “Simone,” Jordan said, “you had a bat?”

  “Simone?” Kevin repeated. “What, you one of those new-age mothers? You let your kids call you by your name?”

  “No, my mother stole my child and my title, but you still have yours,” Simone said. She tried to ease her hand from Kevin’s, but he held it even tighter, staring at her.

  “What you mean, your mother stole your child?”

  “Yeah,” Beatrice added, “what do you mean?”

  “Should I even be here for this?” Jordan asked.

  “It’s up to you, baby,” Kevin said.

  Simone traveled back to when her heart was freshly broken and Jordan was teeny-tiny. She shared it all—Big Bob selling the drugs Lavon found and the crack-filled baggie that had fallen from her pocket in front of Alicia; the scent in her clothes from an innocent trip to the movies. Most importantly, she shared how Angela had volunteered to watch Jordan while Thomas’s van was being repaired. Simone tap-danced all over her old wounds, bringing the pain back to life. Her father had helped her through those rough times, and just the thought that he was no longer around made the pain even worse.

  “She wouldn’t give her back, so my father told me to call the police.”

  “Wait a minute,” Beatrice said, nearly dangling from the edge of her seat. “Your mother called and told me she had to call the police on you.”

  “Naw,” Simone said, “I called the police on her. My girlfriend Lavon can tell you that. The police met us over there. I had to show them all kinds of ID and everything. Then when I got there, they told her she had to give Jordan back the next day. But I go the next day and she all of a sudden had custody.”

  “And,” Jordan chimed in, “I didn’t even know Simone was my mother until my grandfather told me when I was like eight. That’s when my mother…well, my grandmother told me that she was raising me because y’all didn’t want me with Simone, and she showed me a piece of paper that you signed, Daddy.”

  Beatrice sighed deeply. She looked at Kevin and uttered, “And you told me to call her. You knew something wasn’t right.”

  “What?” Simone asked, looking at Kevin. “So you did sign papers?”

  “Simone,” Kevin said, grabbing Simone’s other hand. He didn’t want to point the finger at his mother and would take the blame if he had to.

  “Simone,” Beatrice said, knowing her son would protect her at all costs, “your mother was calling me left and right. One minute, you were on drugs. The next minute, you were leaving Jordan there with her for days and a bunch of other mess. Then when my neighbor said you were high and Alicia said crack fell out of your pocket, I believed it all. I kept telling Kevin about it, and he never believed it. But that night when she called me ranting and raving ’cause she had to call the police on you, that was it. So it was me. I signed the papers on his behalf that night after the police left. That’s how she got custody the very next day.”

  “You signed papers?” Simone asked, surprised at the news.

  “Yeah, Simone, and I’m so sorry.” Beatrice’s words seemed genuine. “I believed everything your mother said. I mean…” She chuckled. “She was your mother. What mother would do something like that to her own child? Like you said, she stole your baby.”

  “I can’t believe she did all that to get me,” Jordan said.

  “Well, we got you back now. I’m your father, and this is your mother. And after hearing everything that she went through, we gotta find a way to drop that Simone stuff, baby. I mean, I’ve loved you your whole life, but we just met yesterday, and instantly you call me Daddy. I love hearing those words. It’s music to my heart, but I think you need to be singing the same song to your mother. Don’t you think?”

  Jordan looked at Simone and mumbled, “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Simone, you okay?”

  “I mean…” She sighed. “What can I do? What can I say? Saying I’m shocked as hell would be an understatement. It’s so ironic the papers were signed, giving Jordan to my mother and Ricardo, and Ricardo was the one on drugs. But,” she said, “it’s done and over with now.”

  “You know, my mother was only—”

  “I’m not mad at you.” Simone cut Kevin off and spoke directly to Beatrice. “I mean, I wish you would’ve called me, but, like I said, it’s over.”

  “Yeah, I wish I would’ve called you, too. Look what happened once the papers were signed. Baby Girl was taken away from everybody.” Beatrice grabbed Jordan by the hand. “C’mon,” she said, pulling Jordan’s hand as she stood. “Let’s go get a soda.”

  With B eatrice and Jordan gone, Kevin asked, “So you really not upset with her?”

  “I can’t be upset with her and not be upset with my own mother.”

  “So how are we gonna handle your mother?”

  “What you mean?”

  “I mean, she just flat-out stole Jordan like you said. I’m sure there’s something we can do.”

  “Well, whatever we do to my mother, we have to do to yours, too. My mother orchestrated the whole fiasco, but your mother was a mighty powerful player, as well. A simple little phone call would’ve ended it all.”

  “So, you really don’t wanna do anything?”

  “Nope. It’s like two tears in a bucket.”

  “So fuck it? Just like that?”

  “I mean,” Simone said with a shrug of her shoulders, “if you want to do something, I guess you can take my mother and Ricardo out to dinner.”

  “Out to dinner?” Kevin was taken aback. “How you figure?”

  “Think about it. You didn’t have to provide any financial support and neither did I. I mean, I did for Jordan, but only what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. My mother and Ricardo did it all.”

  “But, Simone, we didn’t ask them to. Your mother lied to get Jordan and raised her as her daughter.”

  “Yeah, all that’s true, and I actually thought about everything this morning while I was getting dressed. My mother’s my mother, and I love her. The last thing I want to do is start up a war. Despite everything we’ve been through, she and I are finally like mother and daughter. We go shopping; we talk; we laugh, and I don’t want any of that to change. Plus, I can’t harbor ill will towards people. You know how much energy it takes to remain in that space? Just think if I did that, you wouldn’t have met Jordan. Besides,” Simone added, “all my mother wanted was a family, and I know how that feels. I mean, I wouldn’t steal a baby, but I kinda understand the void.”

  “But you have a family. You have a husband and two daughters.”

  “Sounds good, huh? But my husband will probably be gone by the time I get home.”

  “Gone?”

  “Yeah, long story. Just make sure when you get married, you and your wife focus on life after the wedding, not just the actual wedding day. I was so focused on the reception, my dress, my cake, that I didn’t realize who or what I was marrying. Anyway, that’s enough about me. What’s going on with you?”

  “Hell, nothing compared to what’s been happening with you.” Kevin smiled. “I can’t believe how good you look. You look like a supermodel.”

  “Of course I do to you. Look what you have to compare me to,” Simone said, surveying the room.

  “Females work all through the prison, Simone, but you’re top-shelf, baby, for real. Your husband’s a fool.”

  “Hey, I heard you’re
Mr. Poetry now. What brought that on?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “Oh, yeah.” Kevin smiled bashfully. “I started writing poetry for some of the guys years ago. They tell me their little situation, their feelings, and I compose either a love letter or a poem for them to mail to their girls.”

  “Really? You should try to do something with your poetic talents.”

  “Well,” Kevin said, preparing to unleash his real passion for the first time. “I don’t write poems anymore. I mean, I do,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “But I’ve turned them into songs. I probably have about two hundred now.”

  “Two hundred? That’s impressive. Sing one.”

  “Huh?” Kevin choked. “I can write ’em, but I damn sure can’t sing ’em. I’ve written a couple of letters, trying to sell some of my compositions, and I got a few responses—”

  “Hold up!” Simone interrupted. “Are they copyrighted?”

  “Naw, not yet. I was just testing the waters a little.”

  “Kevin, its sharks in the water. Somebody will steal your compositions, produce them, and take all your credit. If you want, mail them to me, and I’ll get them copyrighted for you. I’ll see if I can find some books on the music industry and send them to you, too. Who knows? Maybe Jordan and I can sing some of them.”

  “Y’all sing?”

  “Yeah. I’m surprised Jordan didn’t share that with you. We took vocal lessons a while back and everything.”

  “You serious?” he said, laughing in disbelief. “This is so wild. You know, Jordan told me yesterday that you out there doing your thing with real estate. She said you opened up your own company and everything.”

  “Yeah, I love it, too. Lavon and Melanie are my partners.”

  “Get outta here. Y’all still tight?”

  “Yeah. Lavon manages the office, I oversee the agents, and Melanie, even though she lives a million miles away, handles the marketing.”

  “Damn, that’s all right.”

  “You need to think about what it is you really enjoy doing, and see if you can make a career out of it. Real estate doesn’t even feel like work.”

  “Yeah, that’s how I feel when I write my songs.”

  “Then make being a songwriter your goal. Matter of fact, I’ll send you a journal so you can write down all the things you plan to accomplish when you get out. If you keep your ideas trapped inside your head, they’re just dreams. Think about when you have a dream at night. You know how hard it is to remember the entire dream the next day, let alone months from now. Well, it’s kinda the same thing, which is why you have to have goals and write them down. Then,” Simone raved, “once you mail me your songs, maybe Jordan can make a demo. I can take her to Stan and Fat Ed’s studio. I’m not moving too fast, am I?”

  “No! I’m loving your speed and your zest. You can be my partner.”

  “Okay, we’ll talk about that later. But now, I need to ask you something serious,” Simone said, shifting gears.

  “Ask me whatever you want. Is it about Rhonda?”

  “No.” Simone frowned. “It’s about the victim. The one who died.”

  “Oh,” Kevin said. His body slumped as he shifted uneasily in the plastic chair.

  “How often do you think about him?”

  “Every day. Literally every single day. It’s the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thing at night. That’s one of the reasons I’m so determined to be successful. I owe it to him, my mother, Jordan, and hell, probably you, too.”

  “You don’t owe it to me.”

  “Yes, I do. Had I been mature enough—hell, even man enough to handle the situation with Rhonda back then—things would’ve been different. Who knows? Maybe I wouldn’t even be in here. I could’ve been your husband. And,” Kevin added, “you damn sure wouldn’t have these cheap-ass rings.”

  Simone snatched her hands away. “No, you not talkin’ ’bout my rings!” She laughed.

  “Yes, I am, too. See, if I was your husband, we’d be planning a cookout for tomorrow, or we’d be somewhere out of town.”

  “For Labor Day?”

  “Yeah…Damn, it is Labor Day,” Kevin said more so to himself. “Didn’t we break up on a holiday?”

  “Kevin, I don’t know. That was a million years ago.”

  “Naw, but think about it for a minute, seriously. It was during a holiday, because that’s the only time Rhonda came home. Just think about it for a second.”

  “Okay,” Simone said. “My father moved me on a weekend, I guess. Hold up. All this happened the weekend Melanie went away to school. Damn, it may have been Labor Day.”

  “Damn,” Kevin said, nodding his head. “It had to be Labor Day, which means we last talked sixteen years ago today.”

  “You mean we broke up sixteen years ago today.”

  “No, I mean we had a huge misunderstanding sixteen years ago today. I never broke up with you, and I didn’t cheat. You did,” Kevin said, looking at her rings.

  “Here you go, Kennard.” The guard approached and handed Kevin and Simone a piece of paper.

  “What’s this?” she asked, looking at the paper.

  “It’s your hall pass. It’s time to go.”

  “Dang…already?” Her disappointment was obvious. She was just starting to relax.

  Kevin kissed Simone’s hands and pulled her to her feet. “You can stay with me if you want. We can celebrate our anniversary.”

  “The anniversary of our breakup?”

  “What I just tell you?” Kevin asked playfully. “You’re still mine.”

  “That’s not what my driver’s license says.” Simone smiled. “Sorry. Too bad I can’t stay.”

  He mirrored her smile and raised a brow. “It’s for the best. I’d have to fight a million dudes off of you.”

  “Kevin, you’ll be forty years old in a few years. Hopefully, you’ve outgrown your fighting days.”

  “Oh, yeah, baby. I haven’t been in any trouble in over twelve years. I gotta keep my nose clean. Hey, listen. You gotta promise you won’t tell anybody what I’m about to tell you.”

  “Okay…”

  “There’s a chance I could be home by this time next year.”

  “But your mother said two years.”

  “I know. That’s what I told everybody. I’m just trying to surprise her, that’s all. You’re the only one who knows the truth. Damn,” Kevin said, “you’re the only one who knows a bunch of stuff. No one knows about my songs either.” Kevin smiled. “Hey, but remember, you can’t tell anyone. Not even Jordan.”

  “Speaking of Jordan,” Simone said as she looked around the room. “Her and your mother never came back.”

  “I guess she figured we had some things to discuss. Jordan gave me the number to the house. It’ll take a few days before I can call. You don’t mind that, do you?”

  “Please. Jordan will probably be waiting by the phone.”

  “I may want to talk to you, too, you know.” He shrugged. “Since you’re going to be my partner.”

  “We’ll see,” she said, initiating the hug. “But don’t forget to mail me your songs.”

  “I won’t. I hope things at home work out the way you want. Be careful,” he said as he watched Simone walk out of the visiting room and back into his heart.

  ● ● ●

  Simone was in no rush to combat the rage she knew waited for her at home. Despite the hurtful things she’d discovered during her visit with Kevin, she’d really enjoyed herself. For the life of her, she couldn’t explain the peace she felt. Maybe it was their easy conversation. Other than Lavon, Simone didn’t have anybody to really talk to. Or could it be the excitement she felt for his music. Or maybe it was that her old wounds had been addressed. Whatever it was, she didn’t want the feeling to slip away.

  Instead of rushing home, she scooped up Mae and Kayla. She even swung past Angela’s and made her hop in the truck, too.

  Beatrice felt extremely guilty and expressed it over and ove
r again during the two-hour ride back from the prison. Simone agreed to forgive her only if Beatrice could find it in her heart to forgive Angela. Though Beatrice wasn’t eager to accept the compromise, she agreed. She and Angela greeted each other like old girlfriends at a twenty-year class reunion. With the truck loaded, Simone treated everybody to dinner.

  Andre’s cruiser wasn’t in the driveway when Simone and the girls finally made it home. Still, that didn’t mean squat. Andre and his cruiser were seldom there. Inside, everything appeared the same, but something about the air felt different to Simone, almost lighter.

  Maybe it’s because I want it to feel this way, she thought as she headed to the bedroom, not knowing what to expect. Flicking on the light, she saw everything was still in its usual place. The bed was unmade and the plasma television was still on, entertaining itself. She held her breath as she strolled over to Andre’s closet and pulled open the double doors.

  “He did it,” she whispered in shock as the empty closet stared back at her. “He did it. He moved.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Early 2006

  “What’s up, sexy?” Andre licked his lips, admiring Sanora as she strutted into the post office, tossing her hips and slinging her long, blonde, bone-straight weave. Her skintight jeans, four-inch boots, and the skin tight leather jacket made more for style than warmth had every man, old and young, catching whiplash. Strolling in behind her was her manager, or Ms. Fe-Fe, as she was known in her world.

  “Hey, Officer Friendly!” Sanora smiled and sashayed in Andre’s direction, batting her green eyes. Easing her hand across his back, she whispered, “You ready to handcuff me again?”

  “You liked that, huh?” Andre smiled.

  “Mmm-hmm. I thought you did, too. Let me find out I was too much for you.”

  “Please. The last few times, you did more moaning than I did. Hell, you should pay me.”