Between Friends

by D. L. Sparks

I sat up and stared at the certified letter she was holding.

  She asked, “Do you want me to open it?”

  I nodded absentmindedly, then watched as she ripped into the paper and pulled out the wad of thick documents.

  I couldn’t even bring myself to look at them, so I stood up and walked to the entertainment center. I focused on a picture of Cameron, willed that envelope and its contents spontaneously combust in her hands. I turned around and watched as my sister’s eyes scanned the document.

  “Just spit it out.”

  She took a deep breath and spoke. “There’s a court date set for two weeks from today. He’s asking for joint custody.”

  I let out a sigh.

  The acknowledgment of paternity was just to put it on paper, make it legal in the eyes of everyone involved; custody was a sucker punch to me. I wanted to call and cuss him out, but I couldn’t, because he was right, and I was wrong.

  India flipped through a few more pages. “It says here that he is willing to come to an agreement out of court with a mediator. But if you aren’t willing to sit down with him and talk, he is going to go forward with the suit.”

  “He’s just doing this because he’s mad.”

  She tossed the papers onto the couch. “Don’t even get me started on that.”

  “You made it perfectly clear that you are on his side.”

  “It’s not about sides but”—she motioned toward the papers—“this is not going to go away.”

  “Obviously.”

  I sank down on the couch and closed my eyes. I had played the scenario, over and over again, in my head; only in my version it involved him being loving and understanding.

  Guess he didn’t get his copy of the script.

  I let out a low groan and made a wish, just in case there was a fairy godmother, whom I couldn’t see, lurking around.

  India asked, “What?”

  I stood up. “Nothing.”

  My sister hugged me and promised that she would be there for me, no matter what. But that didn’t make me feel better.

  “Are you going to be okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I need to go check on Cameron.”

  “I’ll go. I’m going upstairs, anyway, to check on Mama. She told me to put him in bed with her.”

  I managed a weak smile. “Thank you.”

  After she left, I sat there and tried to rationalize what he’d done. The fact that he hadn’t called was overshadowing a lot of things for me right now. I knew he had a right to Cameron; I had psyched myself out all of these years and just couldn’t seem to see that as a reality.

  I picked up the small stack of papers. My eyes scanned the court document, but I didn’t read it.

  I couldn’t.

  I wanted the words to evaporate like they had been written with disappearing ink. I knew Trip well enough to know that this wasn’t him being vindictive.

  This was Trip trying to get my attention.

  Two weeks later, India and I sat on one of the wooden benches that lined the wall of the long hall of the Charles L. Carnes Justice Center. Trip had pulled some favors and had gotten the court date pushed through. The way I figured: the sooner we addressed it, the sooner we could both move on with our lives. India insisted on coming with me, and I told her the only way she could was if she promised not to make a scene.

  The air was buzzing with people coming and going—some with lawyers, quite a few without. Our mediator had already come out and acknowledged we were there. There was still no sign of Trip, though.

  I checked my watch.

  It was nine forty-five.

  “There he is,” India said, nudging me with her elbow.

  I looked up and saw him walking toward us.

  His locs were neatly pulled back and he wasn’t in his usual black DEA tee and jean. He was in a black Hugo Boss suit that looked like it was cut just for him and the smell of his Burberry cologne swirled around making my head spin.

  My heart began beating in my chest, and my palms got sweaty. I slid my hand out of India’s and stood up.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I responded.

  “Look, this doesn’t have to be a tense situation,” Trip said. “I think we’ve had enough of them.”

  “I agree.”

  I glanced up the hall and saw the mediator heading toward us.

  “Here she comes,” I said.

  During the mediation India remained quiet, which I appreciated. I didn’t want to piss off Trip any more than he already was. The results of the paternity test were read again, more for the sake of the court records than anything: 99.9 percent conclusive.

  Hearing it read by the mediator didn’t lessen the impact of what I had done. I watched Trip’s body tense and then relax as the words floated around the room then settled into everyone’s world for good. As if he was no longer fighting against it.

  Over the next two hours, we hammered out an agreement of one weekend a month in which Trip agreed to travel to Atlanta, and one week in the summer whereby I would travel to Louisiana. India damn near choked on her gum when that one was brought up. The court reporter actually had to get her some water.

  When it came time to talk about child support, Trip was very generous.

  “Whatever she needs,” he said, looking at me. For some reason there was sadness in his eyes, like something inside of him had died.

  “The fifteen hundred a month we agreed to is more than enough,” I said.

  The mediator looked at me. “Are you petitioning for back support?”

  “No.”

  Trip said, “I have no problem providing it.”

  “That’s okay. I’m fine,” I said.

  The mediator spoke again. “What about insurance? Who will carry that?”

  We both answered at the same time, “I will.”

  “No,” Trip responded. “He’s my son. He goes on my insurance.”

  After going through another half hour of legal mumbo jumbo, we finally signed our preliminary agreement. The mediator hastily collected our paperwork before informing us that nothing would be final until the judge reviewed it and signed off on it.

  “If he has any questions or problems, don’t be surprised if you are called into court,” she said matter-of-factly.

  After dropping that little piece of information, the tall, thin white woman disappeared into the hall. She was probably off to referee another battle of the sexes.

  Once back in the hallway, we all stood around and waited to see who would speak first.

  Trip locked eyes with me.

  India’s cell rang, getting our attention.

  I turned for a brief moment and watched as she fumbled trying to get her phone out of her purse.

  When I looked back ...

  Trip was gone.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Trip

  “You got everything?”

  I scanned the hotel room where my partner had been recovering ever since he’d been released from the hospital. Other than the flowers and the get-well wishes that were left lining the walls, it looked like he was about as ready to go as I was.

  “Yeah. I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed.”

  I threw his laptop bag over my shoulder. “Yeah, but you gotta admit, it was nice staying here on the department’s dime.”

  He smiled. “You damn right. Wait until they see that room service bill.”

  I laughed as he pulled a Snickers outta nowhere and took a bite. “I see some things never change.”

  “You know me.”

  We headed out and down the hall toward the elevator. I could tell by the way he was acting that he wanted to say something, but he probably didn’t want to piss me off.

  “What?” I questioned.

  He looked at me like he didn’t know what I was talking about.

  “Just spit it out, Phil.”

  He opened the door to the truck and climbed in. “Okay, but you’re not gonna like what I have to say.”

 
I hopped in and closed my door. “When have I ever liked what you had to say?”

  “True.”

  I watched for a second as he got situated in the truck. I could tell from his guarded movements that he was still in some pain. I waited until he seemed comfortable before I cranked up the truck and pulled out of the circular drive of the hotel.

  “I’m listening,” I prodded.

  “I just think that you’re going about this all wrong. You think dragging her into court like that yesterday was the right thing to do?”

  “What? You don’t?”

  “I just think maybe she’s been through a lot and could use some understanding and support, especially now. I mean her grandmother dies, Linc nuts the fuck up on her all around the same time. That’s a lot.”

  I looked over at him, wanted to be mad at his reasoning, but couldn’t. I made sure that she wasn’t implicated in anything that Lincoln had been involved in. During his arraignment he didn’t have a regretful bone in his body. The whole time I wanted to smack the smirk off his face every time I thought about how he destroyed her world.

  “You’re probably right. I acted on impulse. I probably should’ve talked to her first,” I agreed.

  He continued recounting his observations. “Look, I’m not condoning what she did, but put yourself in her shoes. Look at what the fuck she was dealing with. She was scared and probably in denial.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And I’ma be honest—you and your fucked up attitude probably didn’t help.”

  “What?” I frowned at him. “My fucked-up attitude?”

  “Hell yeah. You ain’t give that girl much of an alternative.” Phil shook his head. “And now you just blew her spot up and are about to leave her to pick up the pieces. Just like that punk-ass Lincoln did.”

  I turned my attention out the window for a second. I merged onto I-20 and sped toward my mother’s house. Phil and I were going to sleep there tonight and then I was going to take him to the airport in the morning. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do to be honest with you,” I finally said.

  “Look, you know you my boy,” he said, “but ... it’s time for you to knock that chip off your shoulder.”

  “I don’t have a chip on my shoulder,” I countered.

  “Yes you do, man. When you came to the NOLA division fresh off some emotional shit, I told Lenny you were gonna be a problem. But you got good instincts and you made it work.

  “But take a look at all the bodies you been leaving in your wake. You can’t just leave her like this, man. You walked away from Camille after that miscarriage like it didn’t bother you at all, when I know it did. It’s time to stop running, man.

  “And if you don’t do it for yourself, or your mom, do it for your son. He didn’t ask for any of this. You about to let the ghost of your dead father keep you from actually having a normal life. That’s crazy.”

  I looked over at him and shook my head, laughing. “Damn. Getting shot made you deep.”

  He laughed. “Nah, getting shot made me realize that life is short. And opening my eyes and seeing Lenny standing over me fucked up my head.” His large frame shook with laughter. “I would’ve much rather had a woman, preferably my wife, holding my hand. Not his grumpy ass.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, that’s enough to snap any playa outta some shit.”

  He rubbed his goatee. “Matter of fact, is your sister single?”

  “Fuck you, Phil.”

  He laughed. “I’m just fucking with you. But you know with Atlanta’s police force in shambles, they gon’ need some Supercops like us to put it back together.”

  I smiled and looked over at my partner. “You lovin’ Atlanta, huh?”

  “Atlanta’s lovin’ me,” he said, smiling back.

  I nodded. “That’s what’s up.”

  Once we got to my mother’s house, I got Phil situated in my old room, away from my sister, before I headed in the living-room and took a seat across from my sister on the loveseat.

  “Trip you can’t do her like this,” she said, staring at me with a pitiful look on her face.

  I took a drink from the bottle of water I had in my hand. “I’m not doing anything to her. This is a lot to try to deal with.”

  “And you think being in New Orleans is gonna make it any easier to deal with? Trip that’s your son. My nephew. And don’t even get me started on Mama. She is fit to be tied, she can’t wait to get her hands on that baby,” she guilted.

  “Come on Trin—”

  She stood up and started pacing the living-room floor.

  “No Trip! First of all, I’m still pissed at you for sleeping with her and not telling me. Second of all, I told you that you should’ve never left after daddy’s funeral!”

  I sat there stunned, with my mouth hanging open. “So this is ... my fault?”

  “You damn right!” She plopped back down on the sofa. “If you would’ve just stayed none of this would’ve happened. I know Idalis, when she found out she was pregnant she would’ve came to you Trip and you know it.”

  I let out a hard sigh. “I know. So now what?”

  “You need to talk to her. No lawyers, mediators. Just you and her. As scary as it may be for you right now, you have to talk to her.” She smiled. “And if you don’t I’m telling mommy on you.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I never thought I’d be getting advice from you.”

  “I knew it wouldn’t be long before you realized how brilliant I really am.”

  I stood up and headed in the kitchen. “I wouldn’t say all that.”

  “So tell me something,” she said.

  I tossed my empty water bottle into the trash. “What’s up?”

  “Does Phil have a girlfriend?”

  I checked my watch and headed toward the front door. “Bye, Trin. I’ll be back.”

  “I mean, I’m just askin’. Are you listening to me? Where are you going?”

  “I have something I need to take care of. And yes”—I winked at her—“I always listen to you. Tell Mama I’ll be back in a few, and see if Phil needs anything, other than a girlfriend.”

  “Trip!” she called to my back.

  “I’ll be back.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Idalis

  Sitting outside and watching cars make their way up and down my mother’s street; I fought hard the urge to scoop up my son and flee to some tiny country situated in some dark corner of the world. The sun was retreating to the west, leaving behind a cool breeze and darkening sky to keep me company. I fixed my eyes on the intermittent headlights as they poked holes in the darkness as they made their way up the narrow street. Sometimes I stared at a set so long letting my vision get so blurry in hopes that when my sight cleared up, all would be right with the world.

  I supposed this was what they meant when they said Karma was a bitch, because that bitch certainly had me in her crosshairs.

  India came out onto the porch and sat on the stoop next to me. We sat there for a moment, not saying anything. A Volkswagen shot by and she tapped me lightly on my shoulder with her fist.

  “Punch buggy white.”

  My heart warmed and a smile spread across my face as I gave her a tap in return.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  I winked. “You didn’t say: no punch backs.”

  She let out a laugh. “You always did cheat.”

  “What’s Cameron doing?”

  “He’s upstairs, just put him down.”

  We both kept staring straight ahead.

  “Idalis.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you scared about testifying against Lincoln?” She asked.

  “A little. But his phone calls have fallen off a little since he’s been booked in and is segregated from general population.”

  “Good.”

  I looked down at my watch, then back out into the street. I wasn’t late for anything or expecting anyone, but I was anxi
ous.

  “Have you heard from the job in California?” I asked, rubbing my hands together.

  “Yeah, I told them I couldn’t take it,” she said, staring straight ahead.

  I looked at her. “Why?”

  “If you’re getting in all this trouble while I’m here, I can only imagine the mess you’d end up in if I was across the country.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She looked at me. “About what?”

  “I didn’t want you to go, and it was for selfish reasons. Trip had already left and I didn’t want to lose you too.”

  “I know,” she said, leaning back on her hands. “I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

  I smiled. “I guess I really messed up, huh?”

  “Yeah, you did.” She reached over and took my hand in hers. “But we’ll get through it.”

  “I really thought I was doing what was best.”

  She squeezed my hand. “I know you did. And I let you down. When you told me you found out you were pregnant and weren’t sure, I should’ve said something then.”

  “Unfortunately, Twin, this is the one thing we can’t share blame in.”

  She laughed. “Can you tell that to Mama?”

  I looked at her. “I figured she wasn’t too happy with me that’s why I been staying out of her way.”

  She looked out to the street. “Yeah and she’s blaming me.” She let out a short laugh.

  “Of course, she is.”

  “But you did get bonus points for your little hostage situation. So you should be good for a minute.”

  I shook my head. “Well, at least it can’t get any worse.”

  “Yeah, I think it can.”

  I tapped her leg. “Twin, don’t say that.”

  She nodded toward the street and stood up. “No, seriously, it can.”

  I looked up just as Trip’s truck came to a stop in front of my mother’s house. I stood up and wiped my hands on the front of my jeans. My heart was pounding in my ears. I tucked my hair behind my ears and took a deep breath. I watched as Trip emerged from behind the tinted windows and closed the door. His stride appeared heavy and unsure. My mind was working overtime. I mentally ran through so many different scenarios, conversations. I tried to prepare myself for whatever he had to say to me.