by Hazel Mills
Chapter 10
Ahmad
I couldn’t stop thinking about Nikki even though I barely knew anything about her. There was something about the way she made me feel during our brief conversation that was exciting. She appeared to be genuinely interested in me and not that I played basketball. Ninety-nine percent of the girls that I had encountered the entire time I’d been on campus were only fascinated with being with a brother who could potentially secure a NBA contract. I knew this and I must admit that I took advantage of it and used those girls any way they would allow themselves to be used. This was a common practice among male athletes. There was never a shortage of pussy, money, food, clothes, or whatever a jock wanted. Some would even have girls who would write term papers for them. I never took it that far. My grades were sacred and there was no way in hell I was going to trust some chicken head to fuck me over by writing some lame ass paper. If I were going to fail, it would be with my own dumb shit.
Nikki’s vibe was definitely different. She seemed like one of those “good” girls that my Gran Nana always talked about. Nikki’s calm demeanor made me want to lay aside my player card for life and be a gentleman.
“Baby boy, a good girl is what you want to marry and bring home. You will know exactly what a good girl is when you meet one ‘cause she’ll make you want to be a better man,” Gran Nana insisted.
I thought about what Gran Nana would say if I brought that nasty freak, Shannon, home. I could see the look of disgust and disapproval on her elderly face. Shannon was definitely the ho to keep in the closet and away from company. She and Nikki were not even in the same league. I was happy that the two of them didn’t know each other. I would be embarrassed if Nikki even thought that I fooled around with someone like Shannon.
I’ll have to kick Shannon to the curb if I plan to pursue Nikki.
I decided to pull out Nikki’s number and give her a call. If she was game, maybe we could check out the new movie directed by my homeboy, Spike.
Just as I was about to pick up the phone, its ring startled me.
What? Could Nikki have read my mind and be calling me?
She wants me. I knew it.
I laughed out loud at my own arrogant thoughts.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Ahmad.”
I barely recognized my mother’s voice. It sounded weak and distracted. I could tell that something was off.
“Ma, what’s up?”
“Ahmad, you need to come home as soon as possible,” she began. “Something awful has happened.”
My heart began to pound uncontrollably in my chest. No matter what happened at home, my mother was always able to handle it on her own or at least make me believe that she could. To hear her say that she needed me to come home meant that some shit has happened that is out of her control.
“Ma, what’s up? What’s wrong?”
“Corrie…”
“Ma, what are you saying? What’s happened to Corrie?”
“Corrie is in Roosevelt hospital. I really don’t want to go into it any deeper over the phone, son. Come on home. Your little girl really needs her daddy.”
“Okay, I’m on my way.”
I didn’t know why my mother would not give me the details of why Corrie was in the hospital but I didn’t have time to sit and argue with her about it. I needed to hit I-5. I called my coach just to give him a heads up that I would be away just in case he tried to reach me for whatever.
On the drive to New York, I tried not to imagine the worst. But it was hard not to. Corrie meant the world to me and I would die if something awful happened to her. She was the reason I pushed myself so hard on the court and in the classroom.
How bad could it be? God, please don’t take my baby girl away from me. I love her too much to lose her.
My eyes filled with tears and because I was alone, I didn’t bother trying to hold them back. Being hard didn’t matter now. I was scared for my daughter. I prayed all the way to the hospital. God must have kept the cops off the interstate because I had my size 14 shoe to the floor pushing ninety miles an hour, passing other cars as if they were standing still.
When I arrived at the hospital, I saw my mom in the hallway of the emergency room talking to an older white woman wearing a white lab coat and several badges hanging around her neck. Even though I was walking toward them as fast as I could, it didn’t feel like I was moving at all.
“Ma!”
“Oh, Ahmad, baby, you made it,” my mother said as she began to sob.
“What’s going on? Where’s Corrie?”
“Are you Corrie’s father?” the woman asked.
“Yes, this is my son, Ahmad,” my mother answered.
“Mr. Jacobs, my name is Greta Rubenstein and I am a social worker here at Roosevelt,” the woman said, extending her hand.
“I have been assigned to Corrie’s case.”
Corrie’s case?
“Social worker? Will somebody please tell me what the fuck is going on with my daughter?” I had become annoyed with the continued vagueness of the situation.
“Ahmad, there has been a terrible accident,” the social worker began.
“Accident? Is Corrie—”
“Oh no, Ahmad. Corrie is alive but she is hurt.”
“Where is she? Can I see her?”
After I asked that question, I realized that neither Corrie’s mom nor her grandmother were anywhere to be found. I turned to my still sobbing mother for answers.
“Ma, where is Kim and Mrs. Agnew? Why aren’t they here for Corrie?”
My mother pulled herself together long enough to tell me what happened. Apparently, Kim’s new dope dealing boyfriend
had been physically abusive to her for some time now and no one bothered to tell me.
“She had this niggah dealing from her apartment? Around my daughter? Did he put his hands on Corrie?”
“No, son, we don’t believe he touched Corrie but we can’t be sure. According to a neighbor, Mrs. Agnew tried to put him out of the apartment several times but he refused to leave. She had even called the police on him, but nobody did anything. Corrie says that today, he and Kim were arguing and he slapped her. Mrs. Agnew picked up the phone to call the cops and he pulled out a gun and shot her in the head. Kim ran to grab Corrie to try and get away on the fire escape. Just as Kim was climbing through the window, he shot her four times in the back.”
My entire body was filled with rage. The more I listened to my mother, the more I wanted to find this motherfucker and kill him with my bare hands.
“Did Corrie get shot, too?” I asked, barely able to form the words.
“No. Although Kim’s body shielded her from the gunshots, Corrie did sustain injuries from a fall from the third-story fire escape to the sidewalk. She has a broken arm and several bruises,” the social worker continued.
“What about the asshole who murdered my daughter’s family? Do the police have him?”
“No. They are still looking for him.”
“I need to see my baby.”
“Of course, Mr. Jacobs. Right this way.”
Walking into the pediatric unit and seeing my little girl lying there with her arm in a cast and bandages on her face broke me
down. She was just a little innocent creature that had been hurt by some crazy motherfucker and I wanted him dead. I held her small hand as she slept peacefully. My heart was thankful that I still had Corrie in my life but I was saddened that her life had now been senselessly turned upside down.
Why didn’t Kim let me know what was going on?
The social worker gently tapped me on the shoulder, indicating that she needed to speak with me outside of the room. I was hesitant to leave Corrie alone, even for a minute. I kissed her black and blue cheek and whispered, “I love you,” in her ear.
“Mr. Jacobs, we realize that you are a college student at Georgetown University but you and your mother are Corrie’s only family now.”
I nodded as I list
ened to Mrs. Rubenstein. I didn’t have a clue where she was going with these statements.
“Well, in situations like this, it is the policy of the Office of Children’s and Family Services that the child be placed unless there are family members available and willing to take the child.”
“Placed? Oh, hell no. Corrie has family. I will take care of my daughter. She will not be placed in foster care, if that’s what you are about to say.”
“Mr. Jacobs, you are a student in college in Washington, DC. I hardly believe that you have the time or the resources to properly take care of a child.”
Just as I was about to cuss this white bitch the fuck out, my mom stepped in and assured the woman that she would take responsibility for Corrie.
After Corrie’s release from the hospital and the funerals for her mom and grandmother, there had to be some serious decisions to be made about our future. It is amazing how one incident can change your whole life so drastically. I was now Corrie’s only parent. The social worker was right. How was I going to provide and care for a child properly? I barely had the money to feed myself.
My whole life had changed quickly and without my consent, and I had some hard choices to make. I loved playing ball but there was no guarantee that I’d play pro ball.
Hell, I’m an average player, at best.
Now, I wasn’t even sure if I could continue to play basketball at Georgetown. Whatever I did from now on had to be in Corrie’s best interest. I knew my mom would help out as best as she could but the truth of the matter was that she already had her hands full with my other brothers and sisters, and Corrie was going to be just another mouth to feed.
I needed to sit down and wrap my head around all of this.
Ahmad Jacobs, it is time for you to man up.