For the Love of Peter Jones

by Adaeze Okoli

“Austin told, uh, the guy that they would, uh, tell the, uh, police.”

  X refused to look me in the eyes as he spoke, the more he talked, the more thick his voice was starting to sound. X was trying to hold back tears; he cleared his throat and began to speak again.

  “He, uh, said, they, uh, had, uh, proof of what he did.”

  X took a drink of his 805 beer.

  “Jay couldn’t let the kids tell. If he did um, that would mean him and I would get caught. I’ll be damned if I’m caught again. So he, uh, got rid of them.”

  When the last few words left his lips, a few tears had managed to roll down his cheek. He blew out his breath.

  “I found out they were, uh, dead when I, uh, called him up on a pay phone.”

  X started choking on his word. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing this was horrible. This was unbelievable. I only ever heard of such crimes on I.D TV.

  “What the hell, what is wrong with you? How could you do that to two innocent young kids? Selling a young girl’s body for money, and making a boy sell drugs for money? If you were that freaking desperate you could have gotten a job. Or better yet, you could have sold your own self. Why did you make them unwilling participants, in your sick game for money? I knew something was wrong with you. I should have walked out the front door the moment I felt something was off.”

  X threw his beer can he was drinking out of, he was mad.

  “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that man!” X was crying, but I didn’t care. “Does it matter how this whole thing was supposed to happen? Two kids lost their lives in a tragic way because of a scumbag like you.”

  X was in hysterics and screamed, “You don’t think I know this? I uh, was trying to make money for us to survive! It’s the only way I knew how to take care of them. They were always okay before.”

  I was angry as well, but not for the same reason as X.

  “X, you said you had a job. This drug operation you are trying to run is not a job. It’s an early death wish.”

  I started grabbing for my backpack I left near the door and looked back. X cried out.

  “Please don’t uh, leave me Peter.” I was horrified.

  “Why should I care, huh? You didn’t think of Jasmine or Austin, and you know they had some much going for them, you took it away from them. Death is permanent I hope you know that.”

  X looked at me and with his words slurred he said.

  “Please…don’t uh, leave me alone.”

  I let out a short mean laugh, “I bet that’s what Jasmine and Austin said when you sent them to this guy.”

  He broke down in tear, “Don’t leave me, man. I’ll have no one else after you go.”

  “You are pathetic X.”

  Once again, I walked out of a house. Slamming the door and walked into another one that said homeless on its doorstep.

  I started heading back to the more familiar parts of Inglewood. I felt empty. I felt lost and confused. I wasn’t crying though. I didn’t know Austin or Jasmine. As harsh as it sounds, I guess that was a good thing. If I knew them things would have been a lot worse. My heart can’t handle more heartbreak. The death of my mom is more than enough. Even though I didn’t know Austin and Jasmine, I still was upset that this happened to them. No person deserves to experience an event as tragic as the one they dealt with. The voice from my mind screamed at me, saying I was an idiot. I can’t disagree with the voice. If I wasn’t so stupid, if I wasn’t so dense I would have been able to tell what that text message meant. I could have prevented their death. I could have gone back to the house and got them before they were forced to go with that guy. Part of this whole thing was my fault, there’s no denying that fact.

  The noises of the outside world were loud, silence is what I wanted, but couldn’t seem to have. I was numb, I couldn’t feel the chilly breeze anymore. Is this what the world is about? I went inside a Starbucks to sit down. I looked strange, I could tell because of the stares I received from inside the coffee shop.

  God, how could we say he loves all the little children when he lets us suffer so much down here on earth? If he’s so mighty he has the power to stop things like what happened to Austin and Jasmine. Do we live in a world that’s too evil that only Satan can deal with it? Or is it possible God is tired of all of our mess?

  He took away my mom. My first home, let me get bullied for years. Let Trinity get hurt, he let two teens die. Teens younger than me. They couldn’t have been older than thirteen and fourteen. He left me homeless. Did he forget I’m only sixteen? Have we messed up this world so much that he let Satan take over? One thing for sure is since Jasmine and Austin were young, they’re in heaven. Or somewhere nice. Not giving a single care about what happened down here on earth. I also know that my mom is in heaven in a beautiful royal blue dress she always wanted but couldn’t afford.

  I do believe in God, but I don’t know what he is doing. One thing I know is that I’m going straight to heaven when I die because I’ve done all my suffering in hell on earth. With those last thoughts of heaven on my mind, I fell asleep at the booth. Meaning for a little while my mind would be at peace.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Excuse me, it’s closing time,” those were the words I woke up to.

  I was confused at first, then I look around and noticed I was still at Starbucks. The barista had a short bob cut that suited her oval face. Her eyes were almond shaped. I could tell she didn’t want to wake me up due to the facial expression she had on her face. The woman’s eyebrows were furrowed together. I woke up in a groggy state. I looked all around me, and no one was inside the Starbucks. Geez, how long had I been asleep? The tables that Starbucks usually has outside for people, were already brought inside. I wiped my mouth checking for drool, lucky for me there wasn’t any.

  “I’m sorry ma’am I didn’t mean to make you stay past closing. I’ll get out of your way now. Thank you for not being rude when you woke me up, I appreciate that.” I said to the barista.

  I searched around in a panic for my bag, crap. I couldn’t find it. I know before I fell asleep I had placed it on the side of me. Someone must have come in and taken it when I fell asleep. I lowered my head and put my hands to my face. Unbelievable. There goes everything I had left, which wasn’t much, but the bag did have my mother’s locket. My eyes began to get teary, but I didn’t cry.

  “Oh,” the barista said.

  “You must be looking for your bag, right?”

  I moved my hands from my face and shook my head up and down.

  “Okay, no worries. I totally got you. So, our manager came out and saw you laying down at one of our booths without ordering anything. She felt you were suspicious. I don’t know how or why she thought you looked to be a threat, but anyways. She asked me around seven to wake you up and to tell you to leave. I suggested to her that I should take your bag instead. Because that way she knew you had nothing on you or wouldn’t steal. Although I don’t know what you would want to steal in here. A coffee mug or something?”

  I smiled at the barista, she was chatty, but I didn’t mind it at the moment. Truth be told it felt good to hear a stranger stuck up for me, because for all she knows I could have been up to no good. Although I don’t know what I could have done while being asleep. The barista picked at her nails.

  “But yeah, let me go get that backpack for you dude.”

  In a odd comforting way, I loved how relaxed and tomboyish she seemed to be. She didn’t seem to have a care in the world. The woman came back with my bag.

  “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that for me. It’s much appreciated,” I told the barista.

  “Oh, it’s no problem dude. I wish someone would have done that for me when I was younger. My parents and I would always get into arguments that would result in me leaving the house. I’d try to find coffee shops, or even music stores that would let me chill inside them for a while, but nope. No luck, especially in the music stores, they always thought I was trying to shoplift. So yeah, I saw you
and though eh, he’s trying to clear his mind like I use to try and do.”

  Although the barista talked a lot, you could tell by listening to her talk that her heart was genuine. I stood up from the table and she began to spray the table with a cleaning solution and wipe it down. I smiled at her again and looked at her shirt to see if there was a name tag. There was.

  “Well thanks again Brina, you’ve definitely helped my day become less difficult.” Brina gasped, “Dude, how do you know my name…” she looked down at her shirt to see her name tag.

  “Oh, okay! I see what you did there,” Brina laughed.

  Her quirky personality was infectious, she’s definitely working in the right field. I’m sure she’ll brighten a lot of people’s days. I picked up my backpack and headed towards the door.

  “Wait,” Brina called out. I turned around to look at her.

  “You know my name, what’s yours?”

  I gave her a half smile, “My name is Peter. Peter Jones.”

  She looked at me with a quizzical look, as if she were sizing my name and I up.

  “The name suits you well,” Brina said.

  “Well come around whenever. Don’t be a stranger.”

  I nodded at her and said thanks again and walked out the door.

  It was colder outside then I remembered. The temperature felt freezing actually, but I would have to get used to that. I was also hungry, yet another thing I would have to get used to. My legs got tired of walking around, I sat down on a bus bench. Opening my backpack, I noticed I had a muffin and a breakfast sandwich.

  How did this get in here? I didn’t order anything from Starbucks, but then I saw it. A note was folded up and stuffed inside my backpack along with the food.

  The note read: “Hi, I noticed you were sad when you walked in here, you slept until closing time. I work until closing time so I could sneak you some food. Sorry I had to kick you out. I hope you enjoy your food and stay safe kid!”

  At the end of the note, she signed off with her name which was Brina. She didn’t have to do this for me. She didn’t have to any of the things that she did today for me. Huh, turns out there are some good people still left in this messed up world. I can only hope that with all the good Brina seems to put out into this world. That it will all one day come back to her in more ways than one.

  Well, if I’m smart I could manage to eat my food in portions and make it last for a little bit. I ate half of my delicious muffin while sitting against a wall of an alleyway. There were three other people where I was at. One was asleep in a dirty sleeping bag and the other two were doing drugs. I watched as the first one stuck a needle up his arm. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy, it was obvious this drug made him feel good. The second one put a needle in his arm and smiled once he did. He looked like all was going well for him, despite being homeless all because of that drug. That must be some powerful stuff.

  I wanted to ask for some but didn’t because drugs ruin lives and sometimes kill at least that’s what my mom said. Mom always said how amazed she was that my father never died from his drug abuse. He was on them bad. Using them three times a day or more . On top of the drugs my dad was struggling with substance abuse. Come to think of it, he should have died. My mom told me he would use crack and heroin. I became upset remembering the abuse my dad put his body through. All of that stress on his liver and heart, and still he didn’t die. My mom ended up being the one to die. The person who never touched drugs, nor smoked. She may have drank once in awhile, but that’s all. But it always works that way, the good people in this world will always pass away before the bad. At least that’s what I’ve noticed. I looked back at the men doing drugs next to me. I will admit. I find it hard to believe that drugs could be so evil, and so corrupt. Yet they make people like the two men next to me feel good. These drugs make them happy. These drugs the men were taking blinds them from their reality. When the narcotics enter their blood streams, they’re no longer men on the street without a place to stay. They’re no longer men searching for their next meal. When the drugs enter their body they feel invincible. Then again, I don’t know what they feel right now. I could be completely wrong, and they could feel miserable taking these drugs.They could take them because it helps them escape the life they live. Thinking about it, that doesn’t sound too bad right about now. I checked my phone; I had a few messages from Trinity. I told her that I would see her as soon as I was able to. I looked at my small older generation iPhone. It was only a matter of time before my phone will be shut off. My dad will soon get the bill and realize he doesn’t need to pay extra.

  Cold, that’s how I felt, and I’m not talking about being physically cold. I’m talking about being mentally cold. This is the type of cold that affects the heart. If too much cold builds up around your heart, you can start to become numb. Mentally being cold can kill you slowly but surely. I don’t know how else to describe this feeling. I can feel myself becoming numb to my feelings, and numb to the people around me. I know I’m giving up, because all I’ve been feeling lately is hopeless. I want to see the light at the end of this dark tunnel I seem to keep walking, but I never seem to be able to reach it.

  Suicide is a thought that isn’t far from my mind. The urges to hurt myself are strong. I can slowly feel my way of thinking change into something I dislike. The only problem is I don’t know how to stop it. I’m constantly at war with my mind. I’m tired of being sad. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I’m miserable. Is this what depression feels like? I’ve heard about depression and was taught to look out for the warning signs. My mom always made it her job to educate me on as much as possible. Mental illness is one of those subjects that did not go unnoticed. Although, I will admit, I never thought in one hundred years I would be that one person who becomes like this. I never thought I’d be the guy struggling with depression. But guess what? That’s who I am now. Then again, I never thought I’d lose my mother this soon. I guess life is packed of unexpected events. One moment you’re great, next moment you want to hurdle yourself off a cliff. With the way things are going for me right now, someone could run up on me and stab me. And I’m willing to bet I wouldn’t feel the pain. As a matter of fact, I’d thank them.

  I don’t remember the transition of my thinking. I didn’t realize when my mind started having bouts of depression. It’s as if a growth of sadness was planted in my heart when my mom died, and the sadness kept growing. Each negative event I faced seemed to help the growth spread. Now it’s depression. How did I end up like this? Sitting alone by myself was something I use to. But sitting in silence with nothing but the wind blowing? That gave me time to think, too much time. I’m beginning to be consumed with my thoughts.

  My mind was the only one talking to me. I was still sitting down the alleyway. I was too afraid to go to sleep; the streets weren’t safe. I pulled out the locket my mother gave me and held it in my hand. Doing this made me feel like a warm blanket was put over me and somehow, I fell asleep. I’m not sure if it was because I held the locket or my exhaustion that made me sleep. Whatever it was I was thankful for it because I needed to rest.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Noisy and painful, that’s how it when I woke up. Painful because I’ve been sleeping on the ground in an alley. My back was in excruciating pain. Noisy because I woke up to a lot of commotion, there were officers yelling for us to get up and move. One laughed with his partner.

  “Bunch of low life bums who are too lazy to get a job.”

  His partner laughed in agreement. “Ain’t that the truth, they’re always begging for a handout. Sleeping on property that doesn’t belong to them. Waste of space,” the officer spat.

  How could people be mean to others like this? Especially officers who have sworn to protect the people. They all have a bed to toss and turn in at night, we don’t. We have to find a safe place to lay our head for the night and pray we’ll be alright. What have we done to these officers that make them hate us this much? Nothing that ever happens in our
lives will affect them.

  I noticed cops seem to mess with the homeless, even if they’re not doing anything wrong. Why are these two cops assuming we are all lazy and don’t want to work? Some homeless people have mental illnesses. Some have lost loved ones, and became depressed and unable to work to pay bills. Others have disabilities. It’s not like the job market is booming with opportunity for people currently. Some of the homeless population are teenagers, like me who were kicked out their homes.

  Most homeless people are not homeless because they decided to be lazy. They didn’t wake up and say, “I don’t want to do anything. I think I’ll be homeless.” I glared at the two officers when walking past them. They rolled their eyes and mumbled something under their breath. As I was walking I ate one half of my breakfast sandwich. I wish there was some way I could tell the lady thank you for the food, but I’m too embarrassed to go back. Besides, I wouldn’t want her thinking I was coming back for more food.

  Trinity and I have texted a few times today. She makes me feel special. You know that person that you’d do anything for no matter what? I’ve finally found that person, Trinity and I go together. One day I’ll have enough confidence to ask her out, but no matter what I refuse to ask her out over text. Asking a girl out over text to me is tacky and rude; I don’t know I’m weird. I love her…Trinity, I love her; it’s a weird feeling. Whenever Trinity sends me a text message, my heart jumps a little bit from excitement. I’m always excited to read her text, when I see her no one else can compare, she is the epitome of beauty. I’m sure she already knows that. She has to, right? Deep down I hope that kiss meant as much as it did to me as to her.

  The kiss was everything I ever could hope for. I know I will never have the same feeling with anyone else. You can always tell when you’ve found the one you’re meant to be with and the answer for me couldn’t be much clearer. I know I haven’t done much searching for the one, nor have I ever dated anyone, but Trinity King is who I’m meant to be with. I can only hope she feels the same. I’m afraid of rejection, but that’s only natural. Every time the thought of asking her out occurs to me, my mind tells me all the reasons I shouldn’t. I’m homeless, I have no friends, and have a dysfunctional father. Why would Trinity want me? I have nothing going for me. Trinity comes from a good family. Her parents may like me as a friend for their daughter, but not as a boyfriend. For sure, without a doubt, my mother would have loved Trinity. My dad, I most likely wouldn’t introduce him to her, for reasons I don’t have to say.