Forty-two Minutes

by Janay Harden

  My words caught in my chest, and I coughed a little hearing him say Jaxon’s name.

  “I’d like to ask some questions, if that’s okay.” K. Jamison studied me.

  “That’s fine, but my dad isn’t here.” I know my rights—Ez was funny about stuff like that. He couldn’t hold down an everyday job and couldn’t do many things all at the same time, but he knew the laws, and he knew his rights. Ez taught Sidney and me the rules, what it means to be Black in America, and possibly, a plan to keep myself safe. Thanks to him, I wasn’t a dumb girl, and they wouldn’t be questioning me today.

  “And when will he be home?” K. Jamison pressed.

  “He normally gets off from work around 9:00 a.m. Come back tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll be here,” he nodded. He retreated to his police truck, tapped on the hood, and tipped his hat.

  He would be back; I had no doubt about that. I read it in his eyes and knew he meant business. He didn’t know I meant business too. He could come back, but the way I felt I wouldn’t be able to guarantee that he would leave. I had a team around me that didn’t play about me.

  Pictures of Jaxon Green lined Tunica Rivers storefronts in town. Slicked hair, keys in hand, and shining teeth—his face glared back at me whenever I peered at him from the street. I went to the corner stores, the drug store across from Dennis and Son’s—everywhere I went, I had to stifle a giggle and place my hands to my mouth to keep the smirk to myself. No one wanted to see the real smile hiding behind my eyes; but it was there. Could they handle the truth? There was one picture of Jaxon standing in front of his JEEP at the school wearing his man flops. When I saw that picture, I just about cracked up right there when I remembered his love for that damn truck. The picture had a sign with it that read, Jaxon Green missing now thirty-three days.

  That’s right. It had been thirty-three days since he disappeared. I counted each day on my calendar in my closet door at home. Since it was also was Sidney’s bedroom door, she heard me mark an x through each day on the calendar in our shared space.

  Dad and I were visiting Titus University this week. They were having an open house and Dad wanted to, as he said, “Get a lay of the land.” I think he really just wanted to get a good look at the place and decide if it was up to his standards.

  Dads.

  Today I sat in the editor’s room at TRHS for the last time and I paced, cutting into the rug beneath my feet with wicked speed. The computer dinged, altering me to a new email message, from Titus University. My eyes scanned the email and they widened; this one left me with more questions than answers. Should I call someone? Was there something I had to do? I wanted to make sure I did everything right for what they wanted. I wanted to be what they wanted. Jolts shot through my fingertips, and I bit down on my bottom lip. Was this for real?

  Will, Mila, Malachi, and Joya sauntered into the room. We met to pack and prepare to shut the room down for summer break. The last time we would all be in here together before we all went our separate ways—whatever that was.

  I could not contain myself. “I got it, I got it.”

  “What you got, girl? You pregnant?” Mila giggled.

  “Don’t say that!” Will swatted at her shoulder. Mila stopped smiling.

  “No, for real! Like—I got the email from the pottery studio publishing house. I applied for a scholarship and they didn’t give it to me, but they gave me some sort of endowment. They’re going to pay half of my tuition for two years!” I screamed. “This is even more than the scholarship!”

  Will lunged forward, and a sound erupted from him I hadn’t heard before. He grabbed me in a bear hug, lifting me off the ground. My toes dangled to the floor. “Oh my God, Indy, oh my God, that’s great!”

  Malachi tagged me in my arm and jumped on Will’s back. They both swarmed around me. As we grinned and laughed, somehow, I ended up between the two, and we crashed into the editor’s table. Will on my left, and Malachi on my right. I laughed back tears and glanced up at Mila. Jealousy flashed in her eyes, but she blinked and smiled it away. It was so fast I wasn’t sure I had even seen it, but her change in energy told me otherwise.

  Joya waited for the boys to stop roughhousing before she extended her arms into a hug, “Congratulations, girl, you’re going to do such great things,” she whispered. She had tears in her eyes when she pulled away. Word on the street was that Mr. Chestnut and his wife moved away, rendering Joya alone. I didn’t even know he had a wife. I didn’t tell her, but I was glad he left, it was time to untangle herself from his clutches one way or another.

  Mila’s mom held up her word, and she got the job with Dr. Rasner. She would be working part-time at the office starting next month. She didn’t say much about it, and I didn’t pry.

  Malachi cleared his throat. “I have news.” We all turned to Malachi surprised. He never had news.

  “As you know I’m not going to college like planned. But I did find something I like and well, I applied and was accepted into culinary school. I’d like to be a chef.”

  My face broke out into the largest smile, and one by one we all cheered and clapped for Malachi. He shrugged and looked slightly embarrassed but pleased with himself. I stared at Malachi for a second, amazed and proud of my ex-boyfriend.

  Will, on the other hand, wanted to be a plumber, and I didn’t know anyone who wanted to be a plumber. “No, no, hear me out,” he said when I gave him incredulous eyes. A plumber? “No, no, listen, they’ve got the union, and all of those white boys are going to college for four years and leaving with all of that debt. And I’m going for the same amount of time and learning a skill that’s going to make me the same money, if not more. You know I’m not good with that clickety clack shit and sitting-behind-a-computer type of stuff,” Will explained.

  I wondered what else his hands were good at? I thought about it a lot. I was happy that our friendship remained. He was my best friend. After what happened to Jaxon, I wasn’t sure if I could still be considered a good friend, but Will made me feel like I was. When Malachi instructed me to get my car fixed when it broke down, Will came to the rescue and fixed it himself. It was one problem that two men approached differently. I had so many thoughts about what could be, and what needed to be explored, hung heavy. We would always kinda, sorta, be—unfinished business, Will and me. But I had other things on my brain too. I loved killing Jaxon Green. There, I said it.

  Should I raise my hand and say it in the mirror five times? No, that’s Candyman—I wouldn’t do that. Or should I stand behind a podium and beg forgiveness?—Would people clap for me? Would people feel bad for me? Would they empathize with a seventeen-year-old Black girl from Tunica Rivers just trying to get to college? Perhaps my skin tone would tell on me and tell them things before I could even open my mouth. Would they decide who I was without even asking me? In some ways, they already had.

  They would say Jaxon gave her an opportunity. He allowed her to write an exposé about him. He helped the poor little Black girl who came from a broken home, and this is how she repaid him. The stories they could come up with—you could believe those… and the stories I could tell you, well, you could believe those too. It would be me and dozens of voices in my head. Just our thoughts and perspectives, but nothing too crazy. Or on the contrary, maybe you could believe a bit of it all. The truth lies wherever your perspective led you. What’s done is done and I couldn’t bring it back—I didn’t want to bring it back. Sadly, I had to take a life to get mine back. If this is what it feels like to feel life, I wanted more of it.

  CHAPTER 33

  “She was at work. I believe we already said that.” Dad said. His jaw was tight, and he said nothing more.

  K. Jamison shifted in his seat and stopped writing in his little notebook.

  I wondered what else he wrote in that thing. He held onto it like it was the keeper of Tunica Rivers secrets. I peered down at my toes. I got a pedicure,
and we painted them a clean and shiny white. They looked nice up against my beige sandals. My hair was braided in large passion twists and we had to add in pieces of braiding hair where Jaxon had cut mine all the way down. It looked beautiful and you could hardly tell. Summer was here and sweet smelling air returned to the scene.

  The sky had been perfectly blue since Jaxon’s demise. His parents still searched for him, and secrets lingered in the air, and some of those secrets sat in K. Jamison’s book. My lip curled up, and I stifled a smile. The cops had been making their rounds talking to his friends and family. For some reason I really didn’t think they would come and visit me and as each week passed, it didn’t seem like they made any headway. They wouldn’t find him. They could ask all the questions in the world. They wouldn’t find him.

  That’s the spirit! A voice in my head cheered.

  Damn right, I nodded.

  K. Jamison noticed my head nod, and his eyes flashed. “Ms. Lewis, do you have something to add?”

  “She has nothing to add, she is a minor.” Dad stood in his seat. Ms. Arletha stood behind him with her arm draped over his shoulder. Sidney stood in the hallway behind Ms. Arletha. Dad was my watchdog, Ms. Arletha his, and Sidney was hers. If I didn’t know any better, we looked like a family.

  “Don’t ya’ll have things for this, like phone records or something?” Ms. Arletha frowned. My head whipped from up admiring my white pedicure and I stared at her. Whose team was she on?

  K. Jamison cleared his throat. “Well, it’s not that easy, ma’am. Apparently, Jaxon had many different burner phones he used for a variety of things. We’ve only been able to track his account through his parents’ phone contract which hasn’t turned up any leads.”

  “My, my, he’s something else, ain’t he,” Ms. Arletha shook her head.

  “I do have one more question if you don’t mind.” K. Jamison glanced between me and Dad. Dad and I nodded at each other.

  “Do you know anyone who may want to hurt Jaxon Green?”

  I paused for a second. I revisited the jabs. Parking in the back of their house. Being left at school and having to find a ride home. My camera. Being blackmailed. Paying me only $100. His hands on me. Touching me like he was entitled to. Intervening with my job. He had to go, and it had to be by me. And that went for him and whoever else.

  Even though K. Jamison was Black, he wouldn’t understand my world or my reasons. In a world where they put white men on pedestals, I had to take my own protection seriously; I didn’t have a team of people behind me. My team was right here in this room and a couple dozen more in my head.

  “No-no, I don’t.” I shook my head.

  “Thank you for your time,” K. Jamison and Dad stood.

  He and Dad were the same height. Two Black men; one in a police uniform, and another with steel toe, worn down to the ground, work boots. Funny, the way they stood in front of each other, you would think they were enemies, sparring with each other—reasons unknown. But out in the world, out against people who viewed them by different standards and different uniforms that they couldn’t take on and off every day, they were just Black men. Their uniform was their skin color, and it spoke for them. They should have been on the same team, on the same side—but they went down two different paths and today, those paths converged, and they sparred off.

  K. Jamison left the house and tipped his hat to us, only this time his eyes looked different. I couldn’t place the thought, but I wondered if this would be the last time I heard from him.

  Dad slammed the door behind him and turned to me. “And you’re sure none of your friends know where Jaxon is? I know he played football with Malachi, right?”

  I shifted my weight and flashed my most convincing, blank, teenage look. “No, my friends don’t know what happened to him—Malachi either.”

  And with that, I didn’t have to lie to Dad.

  “Good,” he nodded and grabbed his keys. “Ready?”

  “Yep!” I skipped.

  We scrambled out of the house and into the car. Dad drove, Ms. Arletha sat in the passenger side, and Sidney and I piled into the backseat. The university’s family open house was today, and we were on our way as just that—a family.

  “What do you think he wants with her?” Ms. Arletha questioned.

  Dad held onto the wheel tight. Both of his hands were locked, and his knuckles were white. “I’m not sure. Apparently, they don’t know what happened. I saw his parents on the news a few nights ago. The cops are saying he’s a teenager and maybe he just ran away. His parents are calling bullshit and saying that he would never up and run away from home.”

  “And what does that have to do with our Indy?” Ms. Arletha countered.

  Our Indy… I smiled.

  “I saw it on Channel 6, too, Dad.” I perched up from the backseat. “They used some of my footage from his college video. I guess that’s why they came to me.”

  “I just don’t like it,” Ms. Arletha frowned. “You send a Black man to question another Black man and that Black man’s child, about some little white boy? He probably did just run away. You know those rich families have they own secrets too. All kinds of stuff going on behind closed doors,” she pointed out. But she wasn’t wrong. Damn, she wasn’t wrong.

  I looked over at Sidney. She had said little since Jaxon disappeared. Not that she knew him, but when a white boy disappears into thin air, it was big news. Tucked away in Sidney’s closet of a room under a floorboard, sat Jaxon’s notebook. I started to burn it after I read through it and found nothing important. But soon, Mom convinced me to keep a gift for myself.

  I did, indeed I did.

  Sidney had her headphones in her ear, and she was swiping away. Her dad bought her a new iPhone, and it was her newest obsession. She paused whatever she was listening to on her phone and popped out one earbud.

  “What?” she peered at me with confusion.

  “Nothing… I was just looking at your ugly face.” I teased.

  She punched me in the arm. “If I’m ugly, your Mom is ugly!”

  We fell into a fit of giggles.

  “Two beautiful Black girls! Ain’t nothing ugly about that. I don’t want to hear that nonsense!” Dad scolded.

  “They’re just joking, Ben, my lands,” Ms. Arletha giggled.

  “Well, I was wrong—three beautiful black women.” He gave Ms. Arletha lovey dovey eyes.

  Ms. Arletha was taller than Dad by at least four inches. Even watching them in the car, she towered over him. Their height mismatch garnered a few giggles by people who didn’t understand the power of needing something that you didn’t even know you needed. Or wanting someone you didn’t know how or why you wanted. Like Will and I… shit, like Malachi and me. I wanted each of them for different reasons. Malachi’s want came from a different place; a more visceral and primal place. Will’s wanting came from a quieter corner within me. I raced around the Monopoly board, collecting money and tokens as I went, but he was always home base, always there—and always for me. The voices in my head wanted things too. The party died down, and the congratulations quieted. They were thirsty for more and whispered about the next time. They used words like, again, after, encore. Was it me? Thirsty for myself? Or really—them? I realized that I was them and they were me.

  We were the same. When they wanted me to do certain things it was really only because that thing already lived in me. They were bacteria breeding in my body. They were there, festering and wanting more. And they fed that need and now lusted for more.

  While at Family Day, I told Dad I had to meet with my college advisor to pick my classes, but I didn’t tell him I really wanted to check out the campus wellness center. I checked my map and it should’ve been in the front behind the student center. I walked through the campus, observing everyone.

  There were so many different types of people—big, small, young, old. The campus
had a mix of white and brown faces. They stood in groups and talked and laughed. Some played instruments while sitting in the grass, and others scarfed down hot dogs and red beans and rice from the nearby food trucks. Everyone was so well put together. This place would be my new life soon and I would be one of those well put together people. I found the Titus Wellness Center.

  “May I help you?” a young white girl at the front desk asked. She wore a name tag that said Kate. Her smile was broad and genuine, and she looked me square in the eye when I walked in.

  “Yes, I will be an incoming freshman for Fall semester. I would like to talk to someone about, uh, counseling sessions.” My voice tapered off and my cheeks reddened. If I wanted to talk about this stuff, I had to at least stop feeling embarrassed by it.

  Kate said with a smile, “No worries, you are in the right place.”

  “I don’t have insurance. I read on the website I would be eligible for school insurance, as long as I’m a full-time student?”

  “Yes, that is correct. Once you are officially enrolled full-time, you would be covered under Titus University Student insurance which covers mental health sessions among other things.”

  I exhaled a sigh of relief. Maybe I could get this thing on track. I gathered a few pamphlets as I completed a short intake form for Kate. One of the questions on the form asked which counselor I would like to meet with, and it had a list of eight different counselors to choose from. I didn’t know any of them, so I tried to circle the names which sounded like someone Black. I ran across a T. Jenkins.… Jenkins had to be Black, so I made sure to circle that one.

  “Kate, you can take your lunch. I’ll cover the front for you,” a heavyset Black woman said to Kate.

  “Thanks, Trenita, I’ll be back in about an hour,” Kate rose from her seat and grabbed her bag. I handed my forms and clipboard to Trenita as she looked it over.

  “Indigo—what a beautiful name.”

  “Thank you, my mom named me,” I smiled back.