“I’ll give you a minute,” Naomi finally said. “But we can’t stay long. We have to go before people start looking for you. We all have to go.”
Gloria nodded at Naomi, then pulled back and studied her son. In just a matter of days, it was as if every ounce of her son’s innocence had been lost. “Are you okay? I’ve been scared to death.” She touched his face, his chest, everything to see if anything was out of place.
“I’m okay. I-I just don’t know what to do.” His voice was weak and he looked like he’d made an excursion to hell.
Gloria helped her son up off the floor and onto a bench seat out in the room.
“What happened, baby?” Gloria asked.
“I don’t know, Mama.” Jamal fell back against the seat. “I didn’t mean to shoot him. I didn’t. I was scared he was going to kill me. All I was doing was recording him harassing Dix and he jumped on me. I wasn’t breaking the law.”
Suddenly Gloria regretted every lesson she’d ever taught Jamal about being confident and having his own mind. She should have told him like her daddy told her brothers, You are and always will be a black man. Treat white folks with respect. Don’t question authority, and do what the hell they say. Gloria had always hated that. She felt like her father wanted them to be cowards and she’d vowed that things would be different for her own child.
Now look what it had gotten her.
“Tell me what happened,” Gloria said. “I talked to Brian, but it just doesn’t make sense to me.”
“I don’t even know what happened. Me, Squeaky, and Dix were hanging out and this cop started harassing us, talking about we looked like we were up to no good and that we had robbed a liquor store. I swear, Mama, we were just hanging out. The store owner was fussing but we weren’t doing anything bad. And the cop started messing with us and roughing up Dix. And I started recording him. He got mad and told me to put the camera down. I wasn’t in his way. I was standing off to the back recording. And he just charged me . . . and I . . . I don’t know, he slammed me, and we struggled and some kind of way, I got his gun. I swear, Mama, I didn’t mean to shoot him.”
Jamal burst into tears again.
Gloria pulled him close. “I know, baby. I know that.”
Tears streamed down Gloria’s face as she held her son. Memories filled her mind. Childhood memories of an innocent little boy. A trouble-free little boy who once busted Old Lady Lewis’s front window with a baseball and had cried for days. But this was no childhood game. This was real life. This was murder.
“I saw the news,” Jamal finally said. “They’re gonna kill me. They think I shot him on purpose and the cops are gonna kill me.”
“No. We can work through this.” Gloria tried to sound reassuring, although she didn’t even believe her own words. “We’ll get through this. I’ll just go get your father and—”
“No!” His eyes widened in horror. “You can’t tell Dad that you saw me!”
“Jamal!”
“Daddy will want me to turn myself in. If the cops get me, I don’t stand a chance. I need some money. I’ve got to get out of town.” Panic filled his voice.
“Out of town? Jamal, what are you saying?” Gloria said.
“I have to go. I just . . . I needed to see you before I left.”
“Oh, Lord. You can’t spend your life on the run.” That thought alone gave her an unexplainable amount of pain. “Let’s see what your dad—”
“No,” he said, cutting her off again.
“Baby, I don’t like keeping stuff from your father. He’ll know what to do.” Gloria didn’t think even Elton could figure this one out, but they needed to be working through this together.
“You know he’s going to do what’s right. He always does what’s right.” Jamal sneered.
“Jamal . . .”
“Mama, I’m begging you.” He stood and paced across the small bedroom. His voice and body reeked of desperation. “Just get me some money.”
“I can’t.”
“I’m out, then.” Jamal headed toward the door.
Gloria jumped up to stop him. “Wait. Please don’t go. I’ll get it. Just stay in your hiding spot and I’ll come back. Just please don’t leave. I’ll work all of this out. I promise.”
Jamal stared at her; his eyes were puffy and red. “Okay, Mama, I won’t leave yet. But I have to go.”
She nodded her understanding, then kissed him on his forehead. “Mama is here. I’m always here,” she said.
He didn’t have to say a word but the look in his eyes told her that he believed her. Yet, as her son crawled back into the closet, Gloria wondered how in the world she was going to keep her promise.
9
* * *
* * *
Tension had set up camp in the Jones household. Elton was still seething that Gloria hadn’t initially told him about Jamal. Or maybe he was angry because she had talked him into letting Jamal go out in the first place. Or maybe it was the embarrassment that he hated most. Since the police had identified Jamal, the Joneses had been subjected to hate mail, their telephone rang constantly, and the media stayed camped out in front of their home.
And Elton resented every minute of it.
When the media came, so did the Black Panthers, and the Ku Klux Klan. The outrage far outweighed the support. Even some of their own church members had turned their backs and tried and convicted Jamal. There were supporters—many of whom they didn’t even know—coming to Jamal’s defense before even hearing his side of the story. The color lines had been drawn.
“Gloria!”
The sound of her husband’s voice shook Gloria out of her trance. She set the mop down and rushed into the living room. “Yes. What’s wrong?”
He looked flustered and irritated as he tossed his sports coat across the sofa.
“Dang reporters blocking my driveway!” he snapped.
“What are you doing back?” She’d been grateful when he left about thirty minutes earlier. She was going to take Jamal some food, money, and clothes, but she already had to figure out how to get around the cop parked outside, she didn’t need to have to figure out how to get away from Elton, too.
“I forgot the papers for the budget meeting. This nonsense with Jamal has me all discombobulated.” Elton was shaking.
“You sure you’re okay?” she asked.
“No,” he huffed. “I’m worried sick about that boy. I know we haven’t had the best of relationships lately, but I don’t want any harm to come to him. Deacon Wade said rumor around the police station is that the cop who finds Jamal will get a bonus if he brings Jamal back—in a body bag.”
Gloria gasped, clutched her chest, and fell back against the wall.
“Now, now,” Elton said. “I’m sure it’s just rumors.”
“What if it’s not?” she said. “They don’t want my son alive. They don’t even know what happened and they’re out for my baby’s blood.”
“They know what happened,” Elton said. “They got him on videotape, Gloria.”
“You know Jamal, Elton. You know he’s not a murderer. It was an accident.”
He paused and looked at her. “Is that what his friends told you?” This was the first time he’d asked her anything about her visit with Brian.
“Brian told me. But he didn’t have to because I know my son.”
Elton shook his head. “Well, all I know is ever since he started hanging around those boys, he’s been headed for nothing but trouble.”
Gloria knew that she needed to tread lightly, but after hours of blaming herself, she wanted to share some of the blame. “Have you ever thought if we had tried to be there for him and not chastised him so much, he wouldn’t have been caught up in something like this?”
“No, ma’am,” Elton snapped. He wagged a finger in her direction. “You will not make this about
me. Every mistake that boy makes is of his own accord. I kept my foot on him to keep him on the straight and narrow and it didn’t do any good.”
This wasn’t the time to get Elton riled up again. “What do you think they’re going to do when they catch him? Do you really think that stuff about the body bag is just talk?”
That caused him to stop his rant. The look on his face sent a ripple of fear through her body.
Elton released a defeated sigh. “Well, I called Perry,” he said, referring to their old attorney. “Even though he doesn’t practice anymore, he still has connections.”
“What did he say?”
Elton looked like he was weighing his words. “Gloria, it’s probably best that you don’t know,” he finally said.
The look on his face caused her voice to rise an octave. “What did he say?” she repeated.
Elton Jones faced his wife. “The police are indeed out for blood, Gloria. Perry said the cop that died was a well-liked veteran police officer. I just wish I knew exactly what happened. How Jamal could do something like this.”
Gloria’s first instinct was to confess everything, tell him where their son was so he could talk to Jamal himself. But something wouldn’t let the words escape from her mouth.
Elton let out a long, disheartened sigh. “Perry said when they find him, if they don’t kill him first, they will be going for the death penalty.”
Those words caused her to lose her balance. She fell against the sofa and Elton’s rarely seen sympathetic side sprang to the forefront.
“It’s okay, honey.” He took her into his arms. “God’s got this. He’s not gonna let them hurt our son. Prayerfully, we’ll make it through.”
It felt good to have her husband hold her and although she didn’t really believe his words, she relished the rare time of togetherness. So much so, that at that moment Gloria wanted to take Elton straight to Naomi’s to see their son. But just as quickly as the thought entered her mind, she reminded herself that Elton would demand they go directly to jail.
Death by cop or death by the state. Her son’s options were slim.
After a few silent minutes, Elton said, “Do I need to call someone to come sit with you? I have to get back to the budget meeting.”
She wanted to scream at him, “Screw that church!” For once she wanted him to put his son first, but right now, she needed her husband gone so she could think with a clear head. That way, she could figure out her next move.
“You go on. I’ll be okay,” Gloria finally said. “Mama should be over any minute now.”
“I love you.” He planted a kiss on her forehead.
“And I love you, too,” she said, trying her best not to break out in tears.
“We’ll get through this. We’ll find our son and we’ll get through this,” Elton said, stroking her hair.
She nodded. Even though she’d found Jamal, she wasn’t at peace. In fact she didn’t know if she’d ever be at peace again.
Gloria had just closed her eyes when she heard Elton say, “Hello, Mama Hurley.”
“Elton.”
Gloria’s mother didn’t say anything else as she made her way inside. She had never been a fan of Elton. By now he was used to her cold and condescending ways. He didn’t like it, but over the years he had learned to live with it.
“Hey, Mama,” Gloria said.
“Hey, baby,” Erma said as she set her designer bag on the coffee table. At seventy-eight, she still had her independent streak and in fact had moved to Houston three years ago when she married her third husband. That marriage had only lasted eight months because she said she wasn’t “anybody’s maid.” She’d gotten the house in the divorce and had stayed in Houston and only came to Jasper once a month to see family and friends.
“Did they catch my fugitive grandson?” she asked. Erma Hurley was one of those old people who say what they want, whenever they want. But Gloria wasn’t in the mood for any quips about her son.
“No, Mama.”
“Hmph. Better not let me know where he is. The news said they got a reward for five thousand dollars.”
Gloria side-eyed her mother. “So, you would turn your own grandson in for five thousand dollars?”
“Hell! I’ll turn him in for some bingo chips.” She strutted her petite frame into the kitchen.
Gloria shook her head. Unfortunately her mother wasn’t joking. She didn’t play when it came to the law. She turned her own brother in when he robbed a bank saying she had “no tolerance for criminals.”
“Well, it’s not all that it seems,” Gloria said.
Her mother reappeared in the den, a glass of tea in her hand. “Seems like to me he shot a cop.”
“No. On the video, you heard some ruffling and you heard a gunshot go off. But you don’t know who shot whom.”
Erma sat down across from her daughter. “I’ll take the dead cop as the one who got shot for one hundred, Alex.”
“This isn’t funny, Mama. It was an accident.”
“I’m not laughing, Gloria.” Erma sipped her tea. “And how you know what happened? Were you there? No, you weren’t. The only way you know what happened”—she stopped, studied Gloria, then slowly went on—“is if you talked to him.” She peered at her daughter again. “Gloria Hurley Jones, you know where that boy is, don’t you?”
Gloria looked away. “Mama, I went to the jail to talk to Jamal’s friends, the boys that were with him that night. They told me it was an accident.”
Erma cocked her head, studied Gloria for a minute. Finally, she said, “Then why couldn’t you look me in my face and say that? Why’d you have to walk away?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She busied herself by opening her curio cabinet and straightening her Annie Lee figurines.
“I bet you don’t,” her mother replied. “That’s why at this very moment, you have to adjust your dolls instead of look me in my face and talk to me.”
“These are not dolls, Mama.”
“And you’re not being truthful.”
Gloria sighed, closed the cabinet, then turned around. Even though she was almost fifty herself, Gloria still had a hard time lying to her mother.
Erma stood, walked over, and took Gloria’s chin in her hand. She looked her daughter straight in the eyes. “You never was a good liar. Look here, I know you love that boy from the bottom of your soul, but don’t let him ruin your life.”
Gloria pulled her chin away. “Mama, you don’t know what you’re talking about. And you’re the one always talking about how you’d do anything for your kids.”
“I sure would, except break the law. I’m too old and too pretty to be in jail. Now those folks are going to string that boy up and if you get in the way, they’re going to string you up, too.”
“So, Mama, what am I supposed to do? Just hand Jamal to them?” Gloria whispered. She didn’t believe her house was bugged, but she could never be too sure.
“I can’t believe that Reverend Do Right, I’m sorry Do Right Now, is going along with this,” Erma said, going back to her seat.
Gloria didn’t reply.
Erma stopped just before sitting down. “Holy Mother of Mary. He doesn’t know, does he?” That made Erma laugh. “It took your son killing a cop for you to finally stand up to that man.”
“Mama, me keeping a secret from him doesn’t mean I’m standing up to him.”
“Well, at least you aren’t being his puppet for a change.”
That was another discussion she wasn’t going to have with her mother.
“I’m just trying to figure out what to do.”
Erma threw up her hands to stop Gloria from talking. “You know what? Don’t tell me nothing else. I don’t want to have to testify against you. So, I don’t know nothing about nothing.” Erma picked up the remote. “I wonder is Jeopardy! o
n yet.”
10
* * *
* * *
There was something about family dinners that brought Kay joy. Probably because it was something she didn’t have growing up. Kay used to watch those people on Leave It to Beaver and other popular TV shows where they all sat down as a family, and feel a longing inside. As an only child, she was often left alone to eat by herself. Her father was always too busy at church and after her six-year-old brother drowned, Kay’s mother was always in a state of depression in her room. So everyone ate their food in solitude.
That’s why Kay told Phillip from the beginning that despite their hectic schedules, she wanted to make sure that they sat down together and ate as a family at least once a week. It was a tradition that Phillip had gladly upheld, especially because most of the time Selena prepared an awesome meal and all they had to do was sit down and enjoy it.
“So, Mommy, can I go to the fair on Saturday?” Leslie asked. “Pretty please with a strawberry on top?”
“I told you I would think about it. We’ll see if Daddy can get off and make it a family thing,” Kay said, blowing a kiss at her husband.
“Yay,” Leslie said, clapping her hands.
“Ryan, are you okay?” Kay asked. He had been picking over his food. He was probably bummed out because he got a B on a test or something. Bad grades usually sent him into a state of depression.
“I’m cool,” he mumbled.
Kay turned to her husband and smiled. “He’s cool.”
Phillip shook his head. “One day we’ll get an extensive conversation out of our son.”
“He talks to Charlie,” Kay joked. Charlie was Ryan’s best friend. And since Charlie’s mother, Camille, was her best friend, Kay was happy that the two boys were so close.
“But we’re not cool like Charlie.” Phillip laughed.
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
Mama's Boy Page 5