The Bridge

by Solomon Jones

  Someone knocked just as he started to twist the knob. When he opened it, he saw Daneen standing there, looking up into his eyes with a determination that hadn’t been there before. He looked back at her, but only for a moment. He was learning that he couldn’t look at her for long.

  “Kevin,” she said softly. “I ain’t expect to see you here. But I guess it’s a good thing I did. ’Cause I’m here to find my baby. And I ain’t leavin’ again ’til I do.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sonny wasn’t about to be trapped in a run-down shooting gallery in the Badlands. Not after all he’d been through. So when the knock came, and the doorknob began to turn, he looked at Judy and held a finger to his lips. Then he moved his head to indicate that she should stand against the wall.

  When she did so, Sonny flung open the door, leveled his gun at the man’s chest, then reached out and snatched him inside, only to find that it was the owner of the house—the man who had let them in the back door a few minutes before.

  The man threw up his hands to block his face, and his tired eyes widened in fear.

  “I told you I ain’t want nobody comin’ up here,” Sonny said in a low voice.

  “I was just gon’ tell you I had some ten-dollar bags out here in case you needed some more dope,” the man said in his gravelly voice. “I try to take care o’ my best guests—you know, the ones that pays real good. I ain’t mean to—”

  “Don’t knock on the door again,” Sonny said, leaning in close. “I don’t need no dope, man. I just need to be left alone. Now don’t let nobody else come to this door ’less they want some o’ this lead in they ass, you understand?”

  The man nodded nervously. “It won’t happen again.”

  “It better not,” Sonny said, pushing the man back out into the hallway and slamming the door.

  Sonny and Judy listened as the sound of his footsteps faded down the hall. Then Judy let out a sigh of relief and sat down on the bed.

  “You sure it’s safe to be in here?” she said, looking at the dry wooden slats behind the plaster of the crumbling walls.

  “It is for a little while,” Sonny said, sitting down next to her. “Why, you scared?”

  “I’m scared for you,” she said, reaching out to stroke his face.

  He grabbed her hand before she could touch him. “I wanna know about what I asked you,” he said soberly. “I want the truth about Kenya.”

  She looked in his eyes and saw pain. She’d never seen that in all the years she’d known him. His eyes had always been guarded before. But now, he was allowing her a glimpse. It was a sight so rare that she found it difficult to look away.

  When she did, it was to see inside herself.

  “You told me it was a lot o’ things I ain’t know about you,” she said hesitantly. “Things I ain’t know ’cause I ain’t wanna know.

  “But it was a lot about me you ain’t know either. And it wasn’t ’cause I ain’t tell you. You just wasn’t listenin’ when I did.

  “You knew about my son dyin’ in Vietnam, and my daughter bleedin’ to death on the bedroom floor. You knew about they father gettin’ killed in prison. You knew all that ’cause I told you. I guess I was hopin’ it would make me real to you, and not just some old hoe for you to sleep with when you wanted to. But lookin’ back, I guess all it did was give you what you needed to use me. To get my hopes up like you was gon’ rescue me from losin’ more o’ the people I cared about.

  “I guess that’s what made me hold on to you so hard, Sonny. But the harder I tried to hold on, the more you backed away. And the more you backed away, the harder I tried to hold you.

  “After while, I woulda did whatever you said just to be with you. That’s why I started sellin’ when you told me to. That’s why I kept doin’ it, even when I ain’t see my life gettin’ no better. That’s why I saw things between you and Kenya that wasn’t even there. And I guess the thought o’ losin’ you, and losin’ that hope you gave me, I guess that made me think Kenya was in the way.

  “I kept seein’ you movin’ away from me and closer to Kenya, and my mind started playin’ tricks on me. I started tellin’ myself you wanted her more than you wanted me. Then Thursday when you took her shoppin’, I started thinkin’ real crazy. Started thinkin’ like I needed to get Kenya out the way. So I beat her. I guess I was hopin’ she would just get tired o’ me and run away. Then it could be me and you again, just like it used to be.”

  She stopped and looked up at Sonny, searching his eyes for sympathy. When she saw none, she turned from him and looked out the window.

  Through the tattered curtain that covered it, she could see Cambria Street, where addicts scrambled and clawed for more.

  She could see dealers, risking their lives on dangerous corners for the chance to peddle death—one hit, one pill, one injection at a time.

  She looked at it all and saw herself. It was a sight she could barely stomach. She knew that Sonny had no such compunction. It was that heartlessness that had drawn her to him. She’d always believed that she could fix it.

  When she turned from the window and looked back into his eyes, however, she realized for the first time that she’d never needed to fix his heart. It had been there all the time. It just wasn’t with her.

  “I knew what I was doin’ was wrong, Sonny. I knew I shouldn’ta been sellin’ that shit with that child livin’ there. But after while, I just couldn’t see makin’ a choice between losin’ you and doin’ what was right for her. So I told myself I wouldn’t be doin’ it that long. I told myself it was only ’til we took our money and got out. I lied to myself.

  “I guess the craziest thing about it is, I was startin’ to come around. I was gon’ talk to Kenya before she left out on Friday. I was gon’ tell her I was sorry for the way I was treatin’ her and ask if we could start all over again. But I ain’t get a chance to do that.

  “By the time Kenya came back home that night, I had forgot all about it. I seen that first o’ the month money rollin’ in and I was back to that same old Judy. Kenya was in the way o’ me gettin’ my money, so I sent her to the store. By the time I looked up, she was gone. And so was you.”

  Judy reached out hesitantly and grabbed Sonny’s hand, folding it gently in both of hers.

  “But lemme tell you somethin’, Sonny. And I want you to hear me real good. Much as Kenya was in the way, much as I thought she was comin’ between us, much as I blamed her for everything that was goin’ wrong, I would never do nothin’ to hurt that child. I loved hear, sure as I’m sittin’ here. I guess, deep down, I had lost so much, I was scared I was gon’ lose her, too. So I tried not to love too hard so it wouldn’t hurt to lose her.”

  She let go of his hand, and her eyes took on a faraway look.

  “But you know what, Sonny?” she said, her voice cracking. “It ain’t work. It’s still tearin’ me up inside that Kenya gone. It’s tearin’ me up, Sonny, and I don’t know how to make it stop hurtin’.”

  She leaned against him then, shivering with the pain of it all.

  “Make it stop hurtin’, Sonny,” she said. “Please make it stop.”

  Sonny reached out and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her into his chest until her lips were against him. He held her there, the smell of her hair filling his nostrils until he pulled it back from her neck.

  He kissed the soft skin there once, then twice, then licked it with his tongue. She reached down and squeezed until he stiffened beneath her touch.

  He pulled her shirt down past her shoulders and let his tongue trail over her breasts, stopping and lingering at her nipples before gliding farther down.

  She lay back, reveling in the feel of his lips skipping down the skin of her stomach, then brushing against her secret places until her moisture filled his mouth.

  She worked her fingers into his thick hair and pushed until his face was buried there. Then she pulled his lips up to her mouth so she could taste it for herself.

  Their tongues danced one around the
other. Their bodies moved closer together. And when each part of them had touched, she lay back, opening herself even wider.

  As he climbed inside her, the dance moved from their mouths, down their arms, into their hands and fingertips. They touched, gently at first, and then with a rhythm that grew faster with each stroke.

  She wrapped her legs and arms around him. Sweat dripped from his chin into the hollow of her neck.

  They gave themselves to one another, forever it seemed, in fear and in passion and in forgiveness. And as her moans turned to squeals, and then to screams, she buried her face in his chest as her passion poured out in liquid waves.

  He met each wave with a stream of his own. And then they both lay spent, trying not to think of what the next moment would bring.

  As he walked out of Lily’s apartment, Lynch was angry. The sympathy he’d felt for Daneen had been swept away by Janay’s sordid tales of Kenya’s life.

  The hard truths he’d heard spun through his mind like trash in a swirling city wind, giving new fuel to his hatred for Daneen.

  Standing in the hall, watching his eyes move from sadness to disgust as he looked at her, Daneen tried to meet his gaze. But she couldn’t, because somewhere inside, she knew that he was right to hate her.

  Still, Daneen was well aware that it was no longer about her. It was about her daughter. And if the past was the barrier that stood between her and the man who could help to find Kenya, then the past had to be dealt with.

  If it was up to Lynch, however, the past would stay firmly in its place.

  “Excuse me,” he said. and tried to walk past her.

  She stood in his path. “We need to talk, Kevin.”

  “The only thing you can talk to me about is where this—”

  He flipped through his notes until he’d found her name.

  “Where this girl Tyreeka lives.”

  “She on the tenth floor. Apartment IOF. Why?”

  “Look, you asked me to help you find your daughter, and I’m doing that. That’s why I’m looking for Tyreeka. Seems she might be the last one who saw Kenya alive.”

  He stopped and looked her up and down. “But you wouldn’t know that, would you? Because you’re not around enough to know what Kenya. does from day to day.”

  “You think I want it like that?” Daneen said sharply. “It ain’t a day when I don’t wonder where my baby at, what she doin’, and who she with. It ain’t a night that I don’t pray and ask God to protect her.”

  “You should’ve been here to protect her yourself,” Lynch snapped.

  “Maybe then she wouldn’t have had to spend her nights wishing she lived with some other family.”

  Daneen fell silent. Lynch knew he’d hurt her, and he was anxious to do so again.

  “You didn’t know that, did you, Daneen? You didn’t know your daughter was telling people that she wished for another family. I guess you were too busy smoking crack to pay attention.”

  Daneen could feel anger rising in her throat. But she knew this wasn’t the time for that.

  “We gotta talk, Kevin. Right now.”

  He stared at her and said nothing.

  “Okay,” she said. “If you won’t talk, then I will. I know you hate me, Kevin. And I’m sorry you feel that way. But what happened between me and Tyrone was a long time ago. I was different then, whether you believe that or not. I was young and dumb, and I thought I had all the answers. Thought I could get whatever I wanted from any man I wanted to get it from. I guess I got that from Judy.

  “I shoulda knew better than that, though. If I woulda really paid attention, I woulda seen that Judy wasn’t gettin’ much o’ nothin’, ’cause she was still right here in the Bridge with me.”

  “I don’t have time for this, Daneen,” Lynch said, pushing past her and making his way to the elevator.

  She followed him, talking all the while.

  “I thought I had me a basketball star,” she said. “Thought Tyrone was gon’ make some money, and I was goin’ along for the ride.”

  Lynch jabbed the button for the elevator as Daneen spoke, trying his best to ignore her.

  “I used him, Kevin. You knew it, and you tried to tell him, but he ain’t wanna listen, so I used him some more. I gave him what he wanted, just how he wanted it, and he was happy with that. I was happy, too, I guess, ’cause I swore it was gon’ pay off down the line. But then he got hurt, and all that was over.

  “I saw all the things I wanted fallin’ apart. Saw myself livin’ in the Bridge and never findin’ another way out.”

  Lynch jabbed the button again as his jaw set in a hard, angry line. When the elevator didn’t come, he turned to her with years of built-up rage in his eyes.

  “Is that all people are to you, Daneen? A way to get what you want? I always suspected you wasn’t shit, but you just confirmed it for me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a little girl to find.”

  He walked quickly to the end of the hall.

  “No, I won’t excuse you,” she said, following him up the steps. “You still holdin’ on to somethin’ that happened ten years ago, Kevin. It already done ate my life up. Don’t let it eat yours up, too.”

  He walked faster. She was losing him, so she gave him the snippet of truth that he wanted.

  “It’s a lot to what happened with me and Tyrone.”

  Lynch stopped and turned around.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t think there’s a lot to it. You got him to deal drugs, then you got pregnant and told him Kenya was his. Everybody knew she wasn’t. He couldn’t handle it, and he died trying to.”

  “Okay, Kevin,” she said as she caught up to him on the landing. “Kenya ain’t Tyrone daughter. Is that what you wanna hear? You want me to say that out my mouth? Okay, she ain’t his. I lied. But it wasn’t like everybody thought it was. I lied ’cause I had to.”

  “Why, Daneen? What reason would you have to do that?”

  She considered telling him the truth. But the truth, in all its ugliness, wasn’t something she was ready to give up. It was something she’d promised herself she would take to her grave.

  “I wanna tell you that, Kevin, but I can’t,” she said haltingly.

  “You can’t, huh? Well, tell me this, just to ease my mind because I’ve spent a lot of time wondering about it over the years.”

  Daneen looked at him expectantly.

  “Is Sonny Kenya’s father?”

  Daneen stared at the steps as a range of emotions poured through her. She considered answering the question, but she couldn’t. Not there. Not yet.

  “I know who I wish her father was,” she said, looking up at him.

  Lynch shook his head with contempt. “You’re the same as you’ve always been, Daneen. You say whatever you have to say to get what you want.”

  “I’m not tryin’ to use you, Kevin. I was just sayin’—”

  “Why don’t you do yourself a favor, Daneen? Do us both a favor. Leave me alone. Go away and let me do what I have to do to find Kenya. You don’t have to pretend you love her. And you definitely don’t have to pretend you feel anything for me. I don’t need that. And I don’t need you.”

  As Lynch turned and continued up the steps, Daneen looked after him and decided that she could find Kenya on her own.

  So as he went to Tyreeka’s mother’s apartment, she took to the streets. Because the streets were what Kenya knew best.

  Tyreeka cradled her baby, looked into her eyes, and saw the love she’d never received elsewhere.

  There was something pure in those eyes—a thirst that could only be quenched by Tyreeka.

  As she watched her daughter explore every part of her mother’s face, Tyreeka knew that this was what she had always longed for. Something of her own, something of substance that she had created.

  Her daughter was the one genuine thing in a life covered over with masks and pretense. She made her feel like a child again. It was a feeling that she savored. Because even at thirteen, Tyreeka had seen more
than most adults ever see in a lifetime.

  The baby reached up and twisted her lip. Tyreeka winced and pulled the baby’s hand away because her lip, like the rest of her face, was swollen. It hurt even to breathe.

  When her mother called her from the living room, Tyreeka had to brace herself for the pain she felt when she spoke.

  “Yeah, Mom,” she answered, sounding like her mouth was filled with cotton.

  “Come here, Tyreeka,” her mother said. “Somebody here to talk to you about Kenya.”

  She carried the baby with her to the living room, where a dark-skinned bald man with tired eyes and hulking shoulders sat waiting on the couch.

  “Is that your little sister?” Kevin Lynch said, leaning forward with a smile for the baby.

  “This my daughter,” Tyreeka said, sounding annoyed.

  “Oh.”

  Lynch stopped smiling, embarrassed. “My name is Detective Kevin Lynch. I’ve been working on trying to find Kenya and I understand that—”

  Tyreeka looked up, and Lynch noticed the bruises on her face for the first time.

  “What happened to you?” he asked with concern.

  “I fell,” Tyreeka lied, looking sideways at her mother, who sat across the room in a folding chair.

  “No, she ain’t fall,” her mother said matter-of-factly. “I beat her ass for stayin’ out all night trickin’ with some drug dealer while her baby was in here hungry. Now, if you gon’ take me outta here for lovin’ my daughter enough to discipline her, go ’head,” she said, holding out her hands for the cuffs. “Jail probably be better than sittin’ up in here takin’ care o’ everybody else babies, anyway.”

  Tyreeka looked down at her baby and remained silent as Lynch looked from mother to daughter.

  “I’m not here to judge you, Miss …”

  “Johnson. Hattie Johnson.”

  “I’m not here to judge you, Miss Johnson. I just want to talk to your daughter about Kenya’s disappearance, if that’s okay with you.”

  “It’s fine with me if it’s okay with her.”

  Tyreeka nodded almost imperceptibly.

  “I understand you saw Kenya on Friday night. Do you remember where you saw her and what time it was?”