Cry Me A River (21 page)

He watched her place the camera on the counter, then examine the photograph, and when she was satisfied, she turned her attention to him.

“I need you over here.” She was blunt.

He complied, and when he was near, she spoke again.

“Need to fingerprint you,” she barked. “Right hand first.”

She took his finger, rolled it in the ink, then pressed
it on the page. And as she worked, he knew that she could feel his hand trembling. Why was his hand shaking? At that moment he hated himself. Inside his mind, he willed himself calm, lest his nervous behavior betray him and raise unneeded suspicion in this his most feared adversary.
Please
, he thought.
Let this be over
. Outside, the courthouse bell tolled. She looked at her watch, then at him.

“Your curfew is eight o’clock,” she said. “At eight-o-one you’re in violation. I catch you in violation, it’s back to the penitentiary. Understand?”

“I understand.”

“You have any questions?”

“No, ma’am.”

She looked at him with eyes that told him that she was serious, and that warned him not to try her.

“The parole board gave you your freedom, and the parole board can take it away. I wouldn’t advise you to forget that. Now get out my office.”

S
hook up, he hurried from the room and exited the building. Outside, he started to cross the street, then paused. He felt as if she was watching him. He looked back. No, it was just his imagination. He stepped off the curb, out into the street, then stopped again. What was he doing? He couldn’t cross here. She could be watching. He quickly stepped back onto the curbing and looked across the street at his parked truck, then turned and looked back over his shoulder at her office complex. No, he couldn’t cross here. Suddenly, he felt the heavy thump of his heart pounding inside his chest. He had almost jaywalked. He was on parole, and he had almost jaywalked. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his whirling nerves. What was he thinking? He had to be careful. She could be watching.

On the sidewalk, he walked uneasily back to the intersection, then paused and waited for the light to change. As he waited, he looked at his watch. It was five after five. He had less than three hours. Yes, less than three hours before he had to be home for his
courtimposed curfew. The light changed, and as he crossed the street, he thought of something. He should question Pauline. Maybe P. K. had people from Brownsville. Yes, that was it. Maybe he had been visiting relatives for the summer or something, and that was when he met the girl. That would explain it. That would explain everything. Yes, Pauline would know. She had worked all over the parish. If he had people living in Brownsville, she would know.

Across the street, he spied a pay phone. At the phone, he fumbled in his pocket for some coins. Then he inserted the coins in the phone, dialed the number, and waited. The phone rang; then he heard a husky voice on the receiving end answer hello. He recognized the voice. It was Pauline’s oldest brother, Levi.

“Need to speak to Pauline,” he said. “Need to speak to her right now.”

“She ain’t here,” Levi said.

“Where she at?” Tyrone asked.

“Who is this?” Levi asked; then Tyrone realized that in his haste he had not identified himself.

“Brother-in-law, this Tyrone,” he said, his voice anxious. “I need to speak to Pauline. Need to speak to her right now.”

There was a pause.

“Brother-in-law,” Tyrone called through the receiver.

“She ain’t here, I told you.” Levi was flip, and Tyrone could tell he was turned off by the fact that he was calling their house.

“I know she there,” Tyrone said. “Put her on the phone. I know she in that house.”

“You calling me a lie?”

“Levi, I ain’t got time for this,” Tyrone said, irritated. “Put my wife on the phone. Put my wife on this phone right now.”

“Why don’t you leave Pauline alone,” Levi said. “My God, man. Why don’t you just leave her alone!”

“I’m coming ‘round there.”

“I done told you, she ain’t here.”

“Then, where she at?”

There was silence, and he could tell that his brother-in-law was thinking, pondering whether to tell or not to tell.

“Brother-in-law, I need to talk to her. It’s important. Real important.” There was silence. “Brother-in-law.”

“She ain’t in no condition to talk,” Levi said, breaking his silence.

“What you mean by that?” Tyrone wanted to know.

“Nothing,” Levi hedged again.

“I’m coming ‘round there.”

“She ain’t here, I told you.”

“Levi, I ain’t got time for this.”

There was silence.

“Levi!”

He didn’t answer. “Levi!”

He still didn’t answer. “I’m coming ‘round there.”

“Man, she in the hospital.”

“The hospital!” Tyrone shouted, shocked. “What happened? She all right?”

“She had a breakdown.”

“I don’t understand,” he said, confused. “They told her about Marcus, and she lost it.”

“Who told her?”

“Don’t know,” he said. “I wasn’t here. Think his lawyer called her.”

“Called her,” he said. “You mean he told her on the phone?”

“I think so.”

Tyrone was silent, not believing what he was hearing.

“What did he tell her?” he asked after a long pause.

“Don’t know,” Levi said. “I was in the field, working. Just know he told her something about Marcus.”

“He tell her about the governor?”

“Don’t know,” Levi said. “Just know he told her something. She got hysterical. And Mama and Papa carried her to the doctor. And he put her in the hospital. That’s all I know.”

“I don’t believe this,” Tyrone said. “I just don’t believe this.”

There was silence.

“Which hospital?” he asked. “Brownsville General?”

“No,” Levi said. “Cedar Creek.”

When he arrived, Pauline was lying in bed. He entered the room. As he suspected, she was not alone. Her mother, her father, and Reverend Jacobs were also there. Her mother was sitting on the edge of the bed holding her hand; her father and Reverend Jacobs were standing across the room next to the window with their backs to the door. They were talking. Exactly what the conversation was, he could not determine.

“How is she?” he called softly as he approached the bed. He was speaking to
his mother-in-law, but his father-in-law answered.

“What you want?” Mr. Titus asked, his husky voice gruff.

“Come to check on my wife,” Tyrone said. “Heard she was sick.”

“Don’t call her that,” he said angrily. “Don’t you dare call her that.”

“Shhh,” his mother-in-law shushed them, quiet. “Pauline don’t need this right now,” she said, sternly. “She just don’t need this right now.”

“I want you out of here,” Titus said.

“No.” Tyrone shook his head. “This my wife, and I ain’t going nowhere.”

He moved next to the bed, then bent over her. Her eyes were closed, and she lay perfectly still. He called her name, low, soft, loving.

“Pauline.”

She didn’t respond.

“Pauline,” he called a second time.

“Leave her alone.” Titus crossed the room and confronted him. “Leave her alone, I say.”

“Baby, can you hear me?” He paused, but she didn’t answer. “It’s me, honey, Tyrone. Can you hear me?”

“Leave her alone,” Titus said. “I ain’t gone tell you no mo’.”

“Baby, you got to wake up,” Tyrone said.

“Leave her alone,” Titus said again.

“Pauline … Pauline … Baby, we ain’t got time for this right now,” he said. “I know you scared … but we just ain’t got time for this.”

“She can’t hear you.” Miss Gertrude tried a different approach. “The doctor gave her something to make her sleep. She can’t hear you.”

Tyrone took Pauline by the hand and gently tugged her arm.

“Pauline … Pauline,” he said softly. “Wake up. Please, Pauline, wake up.”

“Call the nurse,” Titus said angrily. “Call the nurse right now.”

“Please, son,” Miss Gertrude said. “Let her sleep.”

“P. K.,” Tyrone said, ignoring them. “Honey, you ever
heard of a fellow named P. K…. I need to know … I need to find ‘im.”

“Turn her loose,” Titus shouted. “Turn her loose right now.”

“I need to know, honey,” Tyrone said. “I need to know right now.”

Titus pulled her hand from Tyrone’s.

“Turn her loose, I say.”

Tyrone pulled away from his father-in-law and leaned back over the bed.

“Honey,” he said coaxingly. “The sooner we find P. K., the sooner Marcus can come home.”

“I ain’t gone stand for this,” Titus warned. “I ain’t gone stand for this at all.” He spoke directly to Tyrone. “Why don’t you leave Pauline alone. You ain’t helping nothing. She sick, and you ain’t helping nothing.”

“Help us, Jesus,” Reverend Jacobs prayed out loud. “Help us right now, Master.”

The door swung open, and the nurse entered the room.

“What’s going on in here?” she asked.

“He vexing her,” Titus said. “She trying to sleep, and he keep vexing her.”

She looked at Tyrone with confused eyes. She opened her mouth to speak. But before she could, he spoke first.

“This my wife,” he said. “Just need to ask her a question.”

“Sir, she needs her rest,” the nurse said.

“Pauline,” Tyrone called to her again.

“See,” Titus said. “He hard-headed. He vexing her. Make him leave. Make him leave right now.”

“I ain’t going nowhere,” Tyrone said. “I ain’t going nowhere ‘til I talk to my wife. Pauline,” he called to her again. “Pauline.”

”Sir, she’s sedated,” the nurse said. “She can’t hear you.”

“Pauline,” he called her name again. “Wake up, honey, please wake up.”

“He ain’t gone listen,” Titus said. “Make ‘im leave. He ain’t gone listen.”

“Sir, if you don’t stop harassing this patient,” she said sternly, “I’m going to call security.”

“Call ‘em,” Titus said imploringly. “Call security.”

Suddenly, Pauline’s weak, feeble voice broke through the ruckus.

“Tyrone.” She seemed distant, disoriented. “Tyrone, is that you?”

“Yes, baby,” Tyrone answered her, his voice still soft, gentle. “Yes, baby, it’s me, Tyrone.”

She slowly turned on her pillow and looked at him with glassy brown eyes, and when her eyes focused, and she recognized him, her eyes widened, frightened.

“They gone kill ‘im,” she said, her weak voice slightly excited. “They gone kill ‘im day after tomorrow.”

“No,” he said. “That ain’t true.”

“Now you done gone and woke her up,” Titus said angrily. “I guess you satisfied now. You done gone and woke her up.”

“He gone die.” She sat up in bed, visibly agitated. “He gone die … My Jesus, he gone die.”

“Ma’am.” The nurse rushed to her side and restrained her. “You have to calm down. Please, ma’am, you have to calm down.”

“He ain’t gone die,” Tyrone said assuredly. “I ain’t gone let that happen. I promise you that.”

“Don’t tell her that,” Titus said. “You ain’t helping nothing. Don’t tell her that. I mean it. Don’t you tell her that.”

Pauline became hysterical.

“He just a baby,” she cried. “He all I got … He just a baby … Lord, what I’m gone do now … What I’m gone do now?”

“You aggravating her,” Titus said.

“Shhh, now, Pauline.” Miss Gertrude moved in and tried to comfort her. “Don’t go getting all worked up again. You got to stay calm. The nurse say you got to stay calm.”

“Pauline,” Tyrone spoke to her softly, soothingly. “P. K…. Do you know him? Honey, do you know his people?”

“Get out!” Titus said. “Get out right now.”

“My baby … my baby,” Pauline wailed. “Oh, God, my baby.”

“Sir, you’re upsetting her,” the nurse tried, pleading. “Think about your wife. You’re upsetting her.”

“Make him leave,” Titus said. “Make him leave right now.”

“Pauline, listen,” Tyrone said. “You got to listen to me.”

“What I’m gone do now?” Pauline moaned. “Oh, God, what I’m gone do now? My baby … my baby.”

“Help her, Jesus,” Reverend Jacobs prayed out loud. “Take her in your loving arms, Master. Take her in your loving arms right now. Please, Master. We know you able. Please, Master, comfort her. Comfort her right now, Lord.”

“Sir, you’re going to have to leave,” the nurse said.

“Git out,” Titus said. “You heard the nurse, git out.”

“Please, son,” Miss Gertrude pleaded. “This ain’t the time. Think about Pauline. She sick. This ain’t the time.”

“Mama Gertrude, I need to know his name,” Tyrone explained. “I need to know his name or Marcus gone die.”

Suddenly, the nurse pushed the intercom button.

“I need security,” she said. “I need security, stat.”

“Kane,” Pauline mumbled, delirious. “That’s what Miss Kane call her boy.”

“P. K.” Tyrone’s voice shook, excited. “Her boy name P. K.”

“That’s what she call him,” Pauline babbled. “Miss Kane’s boy. That’s what she call him … That’s what she call him.”

Tyrone grabbed her hand and bent over her, excited.

“Miss Kane … Who is Miss Kane?”

“My baby,” Pauline wailed. “Oh, God, my baby.”

“Pauline,” Tyrone said forcefully. “Pauline.”

“You got your name,” Titus said. “Now leave her alone.”

“Security,” the nurse called again.

“She talkin’ ‘bout Sybil,” Miss Gertrude said. “Don’t bother her no more. She talking ‘bout Sybil Kane’s boy.”

H
e stepped out of the room and into the hall, his heaving chest rising and falling rapidly. Sybil Kane, he knew of her. He knew of her people, but he did not know of her son. In the corridor, he felt like running. In his excited mind, he could see himself dashing wildly down the long, narrow corridor, out of the hospital, and into the streets.
Sybil Kane. Oh, God, could it be? Please let it be. Oh, God, please let it be
. Outside, the sun had set. It was nearing six o’clock. He had to hurry. He felt panicked. He did not know how he calmed himself enough to drive the truck or how he made it back to Brownsville. Yet, somehow at her small, decrepit-looking house, he found himself walking across her cluttered lawn, and then he found himself standing before her door, knocking. Yes, he knew of her. He knew of her from his days in the streets. He knew of her from the tawdry clubs and vile crack houses. Yes, he knew of her. He knew of fast-ass Sybil Kane.