Of Things Unseen

by L. Jaye Morgan

  “Detective!” shouted Maya as she breezed into the room. “She’s almost ready.”

  “No problem,” he said, before standing awkwardly in the corner. Several young men sat at a card table playing Spades. Four older women rested on the couch, and three teenage girls moved this way and that up and down the stairs.

  After what seemed like hours, one of the teenage girls came bouncing down the stairs. “She’s ready! Y’all get your phones! She’s coming down!”

  Barrington moved closer to the bottom of the staircase and looked up.

  Aria appeared at the top of the stairs, stunning in an emerald green dress that skimmed the floor and a brilliant tiara that rested atop her braids. Barrington smiled and the other occupants of the room gasped and snapped pictures as she descended the staircase.

  She was a little unsteady on her feet, likely due to her ankle sprain, but she wore high heels anyway. She smiled, a genuinely happy smile, and Barrington swallowed a lump in his throat. The girl had been through so much over the previous few weeks. She was fragile like any child would be after a trauma like that, but she was strong. And clearly determined. He admired her.

  She noticed him a few seconds later and her joy turned to confusion. “You look beautiful,” he said when she reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “Detective Dunn, what are you doing here?” she asked as flashes went off.

  “Well one, I wanted to check on you and make sure you’re okay. And two, I’m here to escort you to the ceremony.”

  She smiled for about two seconds before her bottom lip started to quiver. Her eyes filled with tears and within seconds, Maya and two girls had swarmed her with fanning hands and tissues.

  “Don’t cry!” shouted Maya.

  “AJ stop! Don’t do that!” said one of the girls.

  “Look up at the sky! Don’t let them tears come out, I just did your makeup!” whined the other. Everyone laughed.

  Maya patted Aria’s under-eye area gingerly. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t cry. You good?” she asked. Aria nodded, fanning herself with her manicured hands.

  Barrington pulled the corsage from behind his back. “I asked my wife what would go best with your dress and she said deep red. I hope this is okay,” he said, presenting the rose.

  “It’s beautiful. Thank you,” said Aria sweetly as she held out her wrist. More flashes.

  Maya elbowed Barrington lightly. “Your wife, huh? So y’all still together?”

  Barrington let out a hearty laugh. “What am I gonna do with you, Ms. Maya?”

  “I can think of some things...” she said under her breath. He shook his head and smiled. Maybe in another life.

  “You’re trouble, and I don’t want no trouble.”

  “Fair enough,” she said with a grin.

  The crowd moved to the front yard for more pictures. Finally, Barrington had to take charge. “Alright y’all, I have to have her there by 6:45. We need to get on the road.”

  Some of the others went in the house and came back out with purses and keys. Barrington guessed they would be following to the stadium. He opened the passenger door and helped Aria into the car.

  Maya approached with an older woman. “Detective, this is my mother, Ms. Annie.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Mr.—”

  “No Mama, it’s Detective.”

  “It’s fine, it’s just a title,” Barrington said.

  “I just wanted to thank you for looking after my grandbaby the way you did.”

  “I was just doing my job, Ms. Annie.”

  “But this right here isn’t your job! This is above and beyond. And I appreciate you. I just wanted to make sure you know that.” She punctuated her statement with a hug.

  Maya watched her walk away. “I wanted to say thank you, too.” She looked down. “It’s been hard. She has nightmares and she thinks she sees him in her room at night. She looks fine right now but she’s not fine, Detective. She’s going through it.” Her voice caught at the end of her sentence. “She wasn’t even gonna go tonight. I had to promise her that her whole family would be by her side all night. Even after all that she’s still worried.” Maya looked away. Barrington could tell she was crying.

  Barrington placed a hand on Maya’s shoulder. “She went through something very traumatic. It’s gonna take some time. If I were you, I would have her talk to somebody as soon as possible. A professional. Matter of fact, I can recommend someone and I can probably get her in this week.”

  “I really appreciate that.” She sniffed. “You’re a good man, Detective. They don’t make ‘em like you anymore.”

  He flushed. “I don’t know about all that.”

  She continued to stare off into the distance and inhaled slowly before letting out a deep sigh. He watched her expectantly, waiting to hear something profound. “It’s true,” she said, turning her face up toward the sun. “Niggas ain’t shit.”

  Barrington frowned, determined to feel offended, but the laughter escaped before he could stop it. She looked at him and burst out laughing. “It’s true,” she insisted, which only made them laugh harder.

  No matter what happened after that day, there was one thing he was sure of. Maya was gonna be okay.

  Chapter 49

  IT HAD BEEN THREE WEEKS since my husband was arrested and I was back in the hospital recovering from my suicide attempt. Apparently even killing myself was too difficult a task to complete. My mother said God wasn’t through with me yet, and Nikki said if I tried to kill myself again she would kill me herself. Both assured me they loved me, although my mother was the more adamant of the two. She said it more in two days than she had my entire life, and then she brought me a German chocolate.

  Two different counselors put me through intensive therapy sessions. It actually wasn’t bad at all. Talking helped. A lot. I still had a mountain of issues to work through, but according to Dr. Gold and Dr. Mallory, I was making progress. They both shared the professional opinion that I suffered from depression and anxiety—big surprise—and then they offered me meds. I went with it. I figured if they didn’t work I could just stop taking them.

  I now had pills for fibro, anxiety, depression, and acid reflux (the latter came out of nowhere). I downed them all faithfully at the appointed times and wondered aloud if I would still be sexy if I used one of those days-of-the-week pill holders. Nikki said absolutely not. I’ve been keeping them in a plastic baggy instead.

  On day three, Dr. Gold helped me work through some of my issues with my family. He explained what he believed happened during my last conversation with my brother—that Andre knew exactly what I was talking about and was gaslighting me—and reassured me that I had the right not to allow Andre back into my life. It was the first time in a long time I didn’t feel guilty or ashamed of a choice I made. Apparently it’s healthy to be selfish sometimes.

  Dr. Mallory was a little harder on me. She challenged me to see how I contributed to the relationship dynamic between me and Erica. She wasn’t wrong but I wasn’t ready to hear that yet. Dr. Mallory definitely had my number.

  On day four, Val brought the boys to see me. She didn’t tell them why I was there, only that I was sick and needed to get better. I cried when I held them. It had been so long. They lifted my spirits higher than any pill ever could, but once they left, I was back down again. Dr. Gold said the pills take a while to work.

  Nobody would tell me what was happening with the case or with Tony. I hate to even admit this but I missed him. Terribly. Even after everything. I had loved him once. Still did. And I believe he loved me too, as much as he was capable of loving someone other than himself. Maybe I needed to believe that. The alternative might have sent me back to that razor blade.

  Everyone seemed scared to talk about it, not wanting to upset me I guess, but I needed to know. I needed closure, and with no phone or television, I was completely out of the loop. Only one person understood.

  Barrington came to see me on day five
. I told them to turn him away, I was so embarrassed. And vain. But he persisted and I finally allowed the visit. As soon as he walked in I burst into tears, covering my face with my bandaged hands. I wept, harder than I had in a long time, a deep, soul-cleansing cry that wracked my entire body. I could almost feel my grief flowing out of me.

  I’m not sure how long I cried but Barrington didn’t say a word. I heard movement and what sounded like a chair scraping the floor. I couldn’t bring myself to remove my hands, my protective covering, from my face, but then I felt his touch, exquisitely gentle, on the small patches of skin between my palms and my wrists that weren’t bandaged. He slowly pulled my hands from my face. I shook my head but he continued to pull until my face was exposed.

  I turned my face away from him and kept my eyes closed. He spoke two simple words. “It’s okay.”

  Was it? I didn’t know. But I slowly turned to face him, dreading his reaction. Thankfully, he was the same Barrington with the pleasant face and smiling eyes.

  “Hey,” he said.

  I shook my head. “Hey.”

  He smiled at me, as he had so many times before. “It’s okay, Tamara.”

  My eyes welled up again and I hated myself for being so weak. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “You’re in pain. When people are in pain, they cry. It’s okay, I promise. You can cry in front of me.”

  I didn’t weep this time, but I did allow the tears to seep out of my eyes. No histrionics, just more release. And as he had done before, Barrington retrieved some tissues from the bathroom and gently dabbed at my face.

  “So other than the obvious, how are you?” he asked.

  I thought for a moment. “I’m not sure yet.”

  “That’s fair.”

  “It’s weird being in here. I miss my bed and my stuff. But I don’t wanna go home.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “What am I gonna do? What happens next?”

  Barrington took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I wish I had an answer for you.” He looked at me, studying my face, reading my eyes. “Is that why you did this?”

  “I don’t know. It was just...a lot.”

  “Of course it was.”

  “I think it would help if I knew what was happening. Nobody tells me anything.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “What do you wanna know?”

  “What’s going on with the case? And Tony?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “He’s in jail. No bond. He won’t be getting out. He won’t cop to the murders but we have him for the assault on you and the attempted kidnapping and assault of Aria Joseph.”

  I exhaled, relieved that he wouldn’t be leaving jail anytime soon. “Good.”

  “It’s gonna be difficult to prove he did the murders. He left no DNA or fingerprints or any forensic evidence that would place him there. And he won’t talk to any of us, least of all me.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Barrington looked embarrassed. “He’s... not exactly a fan of mine. I spoke to him months ago. Did you know about that?”

  “No. Why?”

  “We had some tire impressions and he got caught up in the net. Him and hundreds of others. But we spoke in my office and he wasn’t too happy about...you and me.”

  I was confused. “You and me? Why would he be upset about us working together?”

  “It wasn’t that. He seemed to get the feeling that I...” he trailed off, clearly uncomfortable. I waited, and he finally continued. “He seemed to think I had feelings for you.”

  In spite of everything, a tiny smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “Why would he think that?”

  “Because it was true. He read me like a book. And I feel like an asshole right now for telling you this. I know my timing couldn’t be worse.”

  “Actually your timing is perfect.”

  “Tamara, I’m—”

  “You’re married.”

  The television was off, but he stared at the black screen. “Anyway, that’s where we are right now. He’ll go away for a few years on Aria and that will give us time to build a case. I just wish we had something solid.”

  My ears perked up. “Wait a minute...what about the box? The box of stuff he stole from those girls?”

  “Box?”

  “Yes, he had a box of stuff like belts, jewelry, a piece from Leah’s sock. We were going through it that night.”

  “Give me a second.”

  Barrington left the room in a huff and returned a few minutes later. “I swear to God this department is killing me slowly.”

  “What happened?”

  “We searched the house the day after we arrested him and these motherfuckers—excuse my language—had the damn box in the evidence locker all this time.”

  He was cute when he was incredulous. “Is that enough?” I asked.

  Despite his anger, he flashed that smile. “It should be. Thank you for that.”

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  Barrington returned to his chair and picked up my hand, holding it tightly in his. “I want you to understand something. I still have feelings for you. But that’s some shit I have to deal with on my end. I wanna stay in your life, Tamara. Yes, I’m married, and being around you makes me wanna forget that, but I wanna be there for you. You’re gonna need support and I can provide that. Is that okay?”

  He was so earnest, so sincere, that I started to well up again. This wasn’t right. “Barrington, I appreciate you. So much. But if being around me makes you forget your marriage, you probably shouldn’t...be around me.”

  He dropped his head. He knew I was right. “Can I at least call and check on you sometimes?”

  “Yes. Sometimes.”

  He nodded before closing his eyes and pressing the back of my hand to his lips. We both knew it was a goodbye kiss. That it would be the last time we ever touched. And I cried again, this time grieving the loss of a life and love that could have been.

  THEY FINALLY DISCHARGED me a week after I said goodbye to Barrington. My mother offered to bring me home, to her home, but I wasn’t ready for that yet, so I ended up as a long-term houseguest of the Reeses. It was going to take some serious effort, but I was going to rebuild my life. Right now I was the disgraced soon-to-be ex-wife of a serial killer, but I was going to change that narrative. I would be my own PR expert.

  Speaking of, Nikki reminded me that I had a business to start, and we set about making a to-do list for my boutique PR firm. I wasn’t ready yet, but I looked at the list every morning to motivate myself. I still had designs on a full calendar.

  I spoke with Leah’s family first. My plan was to slowly work my way through the list. I didn’t know what I owed the families. An apology? An explanation? Assurances that I had nothing to do with it? That I was just as shocked as they were? I wasn’t sure, but I felt it was appropriate to make contact.

  Ms. Glenda was happy to hear from me. Leah’s case was now solved and she and her husband finally had closure. She was grateful, and I think that overshadowed any weird feelings she may have had about me. We cried together over the phone, sharing the pain and sadness over the loss of a beautiful little black girl. Leah was me. Leah was all of us. Mistreated. Alone. Unprotected. Fierce, but fragile. God, I wished I had done better by her. I failed her. Everyone failed her.

  After we hung up, I felt a little bit lighter. I was going to have to work up the nerve to make the next call, and I decided to give myself a day. I popped my pills and settled into Nikki’s couch. I didn’t know what else life would bring my way but I was ready. I wanted to live, and I was about to start living.

  THE END

  Thank you for taking time to read Of Things Unseen. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling a friend or posting a review on Amazon or Goodreads.

  Acknowledgments

  FIRST I WANT TO THANK my wonderful husband, D, for his support and for providing for me, not just emotionally and financially,
but creatively. You have always given me the time and space to dream and learn and create. I know that’s a luxury and I do not take it for granted. Thank you, and I love you. I also want to thank my amazing children for inspiring me to do better and be better so that I can be an example worthy of you. I love you!

  A giant thank you to my mother, who sacrificed so much to give us a good life. You have always been encouraging and supportive and a wonderful example of motherhood and womanhood. Thank you to my sisters, my nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, and extended family. Love you all!

  Thank you Dr. Kayla Charleston for your wisdom and your invaluable thoughts on my draft.

  Thank you to the bloggers and message board posters who give writing and publishing advice freely to those of us who are trying our hand at this indie thing.

  Thank you to the black women who have inspired me, many of whom live in my computer. We may have never met but your influence cannot be denied.

  Thank you to my professors, especially my AAS family, for teaching me, supporting me, and expecting the best from me even when I didn’t believe I had it in me.

  And finally, thank you East Side. You nurtured and molded me. I am who I am because I grew up where I did.

  About the Author

  L. JAYE MORGAN HAS been a horror/mystery/thriller fan since she was a small child and she sometimes wonders what that says about her state of mind. Nevertheless, she now writes mysteries and psychological thrillers that feature African American characters.

  L. Jaye has a master’s degree in African American Studies and 3/4ths of a PhD in Sociology. When she’s not writing her dissertation, she’s procrastinating by thinking up more stories to tell. And binge-watching shows on Netflix. Her debut novel, Of Things Unseen, will be released in November of 2018.

  She currently lives outside of Atlanta, Georgia with her wonderful husband, two brilliant children, and a spoiled dog.