Three Nights In Mannford

by Cynthia Conner Goyang

  Marquise reciprocated. “Okay baby. I’ll see you tonight.”

  She began to pull out but then stopped. “Hey, Marq!” Keiana called out. “Tell them negroes down at your barbershop to shut up.”

  Marquise chuckled. “You know my homeboys ain’t never gonna shut up, Ke.” He smiled and felt bathed in Keiana’s obvious forgiveness. “But let me tell you something, Ke,” he said as he sauntered back to her car again.

  “What, baby?” she replied.

  “Tell that nappy-headed Donte down at the hospital to come see me for a haircut

  A-SAP!”

  “Marq, you stupid!”

  Keiana threw her head back and laughed that giggly laugh Marquise so loved to hear. She pulled him in for another sweet good-bye kiss. “Bye, baby. See you tonight. I’ll be sure and tell Donte what you said. A brotha do need to do somethin’ with that nappy head! Tell Daddy bye, bye,” she said turning her head toward the backseat where Nisha was happily jabbering. “Tell Daddy bye, bye, Nisha.”

  Nisha waved her chubby little fist and smiled her two-teeth grin at Daddy.

  Marquise smiled and waved good-bye to his two girls, then went back in to dress for work.

  After exiting the Beltway’s bustling traffic, he drove on to House of Fade, his pride and joy. Parking his black Escalade, he clicked the control key lock and listened for the familiar beep-beep lock indicator. He unlocked the door to the shop, then turned on the lights and the music. The pleasant smell of aftershave and rubbing alcohol filled the room. He walked from station to station to make sure that each was clean and in good working order.

  At his cell phone’s ding, he reached down and pulled it from his belt clip.

  “Marquise, you okay, baby? What on earth is going on down there in Mannford? Sounds like a hot mess to me!”

  Marquise smiled, shaking his head. “I’m okay, Mama. It is a hot mess right now. But we’re tryin’ to sort it all out.”

  “I know you are, son! They tryin’ to take us out one by one, ain’t they, baby? You stay out they way, Marquise. You hear me? Stay outta them po-po’s way!”

  “I hear you, Mama,” Marquise said, feeling chagrined. He loved her, but Mama always had a way of making him feel as though he were still ten years old. I’m a grown man now, he thought.

  As a kid, they had moved from place to place nearly every year. Mama had relocated them to Mannford when his father left. For Marquise’s sake, she stayed on until he graduated but moved soon after.

  He was forever grateful to Mama for bringing them to Mannford and he was forever thankful that he had decided to stay on here after his high school graduation. Staying here had grown him up and given him the stability he had never known before.

  Mannford was home; it was where he’d played football, where he’d opened his barbershop, where he’d met Keiana, and where they’d had baby Nisha — where he’d become a man. He just wished Mama would realize this. Until then, at least he could change the subject.

  “Mama, how are Ronnie, Freddie, and Shanae doing?” Worry always wore on Marquise for his older twin brothers and sister. Soap-opera drama ups and downs always seemed to be the rule, not the exception, where they were concerned. He braced himself for Mama’s answer.

  “We getting along, baby. I hope one of these days Shanae be finished with that no-good jailbird, Donovan. He have your sister up, down, in, out. Pray for her, baby.”

  “I will, Mama!” Marquise answered dutifully, although he didn’t do much praying these days.

  “The twins doing good,” she continued. “Ronnie just got on with Fed Ex. Freddie back to school come fall.”

  “Yeah, Freddie texted me the other day about that. Tenley College sounds like a good move for him. He’s gonna make it.”

  “Sure is. We’re all gonna make it, baby. We’re gonna make it, regardless of what yo’ daddy used to throw in our face every live-long day! Right, baby?”

  “You right, Mama.” For some reason, Marquise felt himself tear up. “You right! Well, I gotta go. Almost time for me to open up.”

  “Okay, baby. Remember what I said. Don’t wanna hear about no po-po near my baby, Marquise. When you gon’ bring Keiana and my grandbaby up here to see me? I ain’t gettin’ any younger, ya’ know. Bring em’ soon. Love you, boy!” And before Marquise could respond, Mama hung up.

  Marquise smiled wryly, shaking his head at the phone. Visits with Mama were always a veritable rollercoaster of emotions. Marquise replaced his cell in its clip.

  The door opened, setting off the electronic chime. Marquise looked up to see Akil, his assistant, enter the shop.

  “Akil, my man, how it be, dude?” Marquise and Akil grabbed hands and chest bumped.

  “It’s going.” Akil cocked his head, his short braids moving ever so slightly. His deep mocha complexion and angular features emphasized a masculine sexiness that had caused many a woman to go weak in the knees. He seemed unaware of this effect which made him even more appealing. His form-fitting shirts that showed off all that definition plus his application of just the right amount of cologne didn’t hurt either.

  Akil and Marquise talked while preparing the barbershop for the day’s customers. “Man, I got in late, I’m talkin’ late, last night,” Akil said. His handsome face looked strained.

  “Where’d you go?” Marquise asked.

  “I went to the protest downtown for that Moseley brother who was gunned down. That stuff makes me furious, man.”

  “You were down there?” Marquise asked, surprised. “Me and Lawrence were down there, too. Man, all that mess goin’ down was a trip, wasn’t it? Remember that brotha coming in here a couple of times?” Marquise crossed his arms. “That stuff was messed up!”

  “For sure!” Akil said. “Got a little cut up.” He lifted his pants leg to show Marquise a huge, bloodied bandage.

  “Ooh! Dang, dude!” Marquise said, grimacing. “How’d that happen?”

  “Man, I don’t even know,” Akil replied. “We had to move quickly when those rocks and bricks started flying. Something hit my leg like, Pow! Wham! I didn’t know it was bad until I got back to the crib.”

  “Be sure and get that checked out,” Marquise said, flinching. “Looks like it needs a stitch or two.”

  “Naw, I’ll just pour a little whiskey on it. Be fine in a couple of days.”

  “Nigga,” Marquise said, grinning at his assistant.

  Before long, the barbershop was full. Young men, old men, and many in between stopped by to get their fades cleaned up, their beards trimmed, or their dreadlocks freshened.

  The barbershop’s television blared the latest news about Darrelle Moseley’s death. The station also played the previous evening’s footage over and over.

  “Man, I can’t believe that happened right here in Mannford!” one brother exclaimed.

  “I know his cousin,” another man said. “That Moseley family is torn up. I just can’t get that picture out of my mind. That was pitiful, man. His mother, wife, and kids seeing all that goin’ down. Pitiful!”

  “C’mon,” one of the men said. “You know that nigga got just what was comin to him.”

  Suddenly, the other man stood up, forcing Akil to pull back the razor he was using. The enraged man pointed at the one who had made the comment. “Man! How you gon’ fix yo’ mouth to say that? What you just said is disgusting. I can’t believe you had the gall to spit that outta yo’ mouth.”

  At that, the barbershop erupted into camps. Some argued that the shooting was justified, others that it was straight-out murder.

  “Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Marquise shouted, throwing up his arms. “Calm down, y’all! Calm down.” He turned off the television, replacing it with some smooth jazz, hoping that would settle everyone.

  Keiana walked Nisha into the bright, colorful daycare center. She and Marquise were delighted with the level of c
are this place offered their baby girl.

  “Hi, Miss Keiana,” Nisha’s teacher, Lena, said. “How’s my Nisha-bear doing today?” She reached out her arms to take the baby from her mother.

  “She’s doing good,” she said giving Nisha kisses on the cheek. “I appreciate you asking. It looks like you and Ada have your hands full today, Lena,” Keiana said as she smiled at the sight of the other sweet babies in the room. By her quick count, she saw eight crawling, swinging, wiggling, and jabbering.

  “Ain’t nothing, Keiana. These my babies,” Lena said, kissing Nisha’s chubby little cheek. Nisha grinned and patted Lena’s blouse.

  “All right then, Lena.” Keiana smiled and waved at Nisha, Lena, and Ada. “Bye, baby. I’ll see you tonight.” She blew kisses to Nisha before leaving for her workday at Mannford General Hospital.

  After her ten-minute drive to the hospital, Keiana wound her SUV around through the parking garage to the second-floor employee lot. As Keiana grabbed her purse and insulated lunch box from the backseat and locked her doors, someone called to her.

  “Hey, Nurse Hodges, how’s it going with you this beautiful morning?”

  Keiana turned around to see who belonged to the voice and then smiled at Jackie, her friend and workmate. The two walked together to the elevator that would take them to Floor 2-West.

  Keiana and Jackie strode on to the Intensive Care Unit of the expansive 1,400-bed hospital. After placing their purses in their lockers and their lunches in the refrigerator, they joined the other unit nurses in the briefing room. Drawn by the aroma of coffee and doughnuts, the two grabbed steaming cups, bypassing the tempting goodies, and greeted the other nurses.

  “Good morning, Keiana,” Donte said, smiling up from his seat.

  One look at Donte’s thick ’70s throwback ’fro reminded Keiana of Marquise’s comment. She bit her lip to keep from giggling. “Good morning, Donte,” she said and turned away quickly.

  Head nurse Sandra Conley briefed her intensive-care nurses on each of the patients and handed each nurse his or her assignments for the day. Keiana glanced at hers. Two patients, both with chest tubes, foley catheters, and vents. Keiana would also have to do baths, oral care, and lab draws — all without help from aides.

  After the briefing, Keiana, Jackie, and the other nurses headed toward their morning rounds.

  “Keiana! Keiana, sorry, hon, we’re short staffed today. You’ll need to add one more to your roster,” head nurse Conley said, rushing to catch up to Keiana. “Young lady, eighteen years old, hit by a car. Fractured left femur and pelvis, deep lacerations to left shoulder, and a possible subdural hematoma. They’re bringing her up from radiology now. She’ll be in room 23.”

  Keiana’s eyes widened, but then she got a hold of herself and quickly responded with a casual tone. “Will do, Sandra.” Working the last four years in the Intensive Care Unit had taught Keiana always to expect the unexpected.

  “Thanks, hon,” Sandra called over her shoulder as she rushed to catch one of the other nurses.

  Whew, this is quite a load today. But it’s a load every day, Keiana thought, smiling wryly. As she walked down the hallway toward her first patient’s room, she heard a voice speaking loudly in her mind.

  Pray for Marquise!

  She stopped short, overwhelmed by the emphatic words that resounded through her psyche. She spun around as if to see a person in the hallway who had voiced the words. No one was there. In deep thought, she walked on toward her first patient’s room. It had been a long time since she’d prayed. She’d grown up in church but since reaching adulthood hadn’t made it a habit to pray or go to services. Nevertheless, Keiana’s heart skipped a beat at those words. Chill bumps raised up on her arms.

  Pray for Marquise!

  Keiana’s heart sped up as the words came again. She couldn’t help but entertain vivid scenarios that sprang to mind. “Nope. I’m not gonna go there with those horrible thoughts,” she whispered to herself. “God’s got something good for my Marq.”

  She pushed away all the negative thoughts and awkwardly offered up a quiet prayer for her boyfriend.

  “God, I don’t know . . . I don’t know what this is about, but . . . but . . . I pray for Marquise. I pray that You help Marquise Taylor, and . . .” A tiny lump came to her throat. “And protect him . . . Protect my Marq. Sincerely . . . I mean . . . Amen”

  “Whew!” Keiana trembled. She was shaken to her core. She wiped away a bead of sweat from her brow and glanced at the rooms she was assigned. Trying to pull herself together, she patted her hair, straightened her uniform, and then quickened her steps. She glanced through the window slats at her first patient and then pushed the glass door open to the beeping and buzzing of the medivac and ventilator. Inside lay a slight blond-haired young woman. Her parents sat close by, hypnotic stares fixed on their daughter. In a corner of the room, his arms crossed, stood a young black man.

  What’s this all about? Keiana wondered and then turned toward the parents. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Linden,” she said and then nodded at the young man. “I’m Keiana. I’m going to be Sadie’s nurse today.”

  “Thank you, Keiana.” The woman pointed to herself and her husband. “Please call us ‘Leslie’ and ‘David,’ and this is Sadie’s boyfriend, Levante.”

  Levante said nothing but nodded at Keiana.

  Keiana returned his nod. What’s going on here? How do those parents feel about him? she wondered but said, “We are going to take excellent care of Sadie.”

  “Thanks, Keiana,” they answered.

  Keiana bent toward the severely injured girl to look her over carefully. Noting down the girl’s vital signs, she added meds to her IV tube. She adjusted Sadie’s neck collar and gently rotated her young patient’s position in the bed. The girl lay limp and unresponsive as Keiana attended to her. Poor thing. Keiana furrowed her brow and then turned to leave.

  “I’ll be back after a while. Be sure to push the call button if you have any needs or concerns.”

  “We appreciate it,” Leslie said. David smiled sadly, nodding his head in thanks.

  Keiana stepped out. Whew, she thought. Dear Lord. That was awkward. That poor child’s got a long road ahead of her. Help her, Lord, with whatever all that stuff is.

  Keiana chuckled out loud and then looked around to see if anyone was watching. “Boy! There I go praying again!” she mumbled. She was still smiling at herself as she walked into her next patient’s room.

  Stopping at the nurses’ station a little later, Keiana mentioned young Sadie in room 23. She poked out her lips. “Poor little girl. I pray she pulls through,” Keiana said to the other nurses. “She’s pretty beat up.”

  “I heard it was a hit-and-run over on 32nd and Madison,” said one of the nurses. “What kind of monster would do such a thing?”

  Keiana wondered the same.

  Chapter

  10

  From toe to the top of a white-gray head, Jan Forsythe’s slight frame spanned all of five feet. At sixty-two, Jan’s picturesque beauty radiated. Her blue eyes and graceful neck made her a lovely study in understated elegance. Still, the ravages of multiple sclerosis had taken a toll. Jan limped to the kitchen in her upscale assisted-care apartment. Tightly gripping her three-pronged cane, she carefully reached into her fridge and pulled out Ezekiel 4:9 bread, eggs, and the colorful makings for a chef salad. For Jan, that included lettuce, cherry tomatoes, avocados, black olives, Swiss cheese, cucumbers, diced ham and turkey, and low-cal ranch dressing. Slowly she made her way over to the kitchen island. Her next task was to boil the eggs. Then she proceeded to slowly and meticulously chop the vegetables.

  With the eggs boiled, she reached to turn off the cooktop — nearly losing her balance in the process. She grasped the marble-topped island to prop herself up securely. Slowly she moved the eggs to the sink to run cold water over them. As she waited for them to cool d
own, her thoughts turned toward her son, Tyler, and her daughter-in-law, Laura.

  She still felt a twinge of guilt over what had happened. Because of her, Tyler had interrupted his college education and a possible career in the NFL. He had moved back home after Richard’s passing and during the worst days of her sickness. Tyler and Laura had altered their plans to stay with her.

  Jan’s eyes teared up. She grasped her cane and lowered her head. She hoped Tyler had chosen wisely in becoming a police officer, and sighed as she wondered if Laura felt the same about Tyler’s career choice. Something was amiss with the two of them. It wasn’t what Tyler said when she asked him but what he didn’t say.

  I know my boy, Jan thought. He wouldn’t have so many problems if it weren’t for my MS. She shook her head in frustration. “I give it all to you, though, Lord God,” she prayed in a whisper.

  Jan arranged the salad artfully on her crystal Waterford platter and carefully placed it in the fridge to wait until dinner. She then turned her attention toward the laundry room. I’ll fold a load today and perhaps the other —

  Just then, the doorbell rang, freezing Jan mid step.

  Who on earth can that be? She wondered. Glancing out the large dining-room picture window, she saw Laura’s yellow and white Mini Cooper convertible parked at the curb. Jan glanced at her watch, then cocked her head to the side. Well, how about that? Jan thought. I was just thinking of Tyler and Laura. She turned and limped slowly toward the door, still holding tightly to her three-pronged cane. Unlocking and opening the door, she smiled at her daughter-in-law. “Why, Laura, what a pleasant surprise! Come in.”

  “Thanks, Jan,” Laura said, her voice sounding strained.

  Jan reached out her free hand to her bedraggled-looking daughter-in-law and pulled her into a hug. The wind had blown Laura’s long dark hair this way and that, and tear stains streaked her cheeks.

  Oh, my goodness, Jan thought. What could be wrong? “Come in, come in!” she exclaimed. “I was just getting ready to fold a load of laundry. Go grab something cold to drink out of the fridge, and I’ll join you in the living room in a moment.”