Darkness Before Dawn (7 page)

“What's up, Keisha?” Angel smiled broadly. I think she kinda looked up to me because I was a big-time senior who looked like I had it together. Poor kid. If she only knew how confused I felt.

“Not much. I'm on break from my job—which I'm gonna be quitting soon.”

“How come?” asked Gerald.

“I've just got too much to do. I gotta keep my grades up—at least till I get accepted into college somewhere.”

“Aw, Keisha, if your grades ever dipped down like mine do, you'd probably have a heart attack!” Gerald teased me. “Come with me and Angel. I'm gonna
watch
her eat this time!” Angel simply rolled her eyes at him and ordered a salad.

“Don't you want something else?” I asked Angel.

“We ordered pizza after practice this morning,” Angel said, but her face said she was lying. “I'm stuffed.” Gerald said nothing, but eyed her suspiciously as he ordered a cheeseburger.

“Dancing twice a day? Isn't that a bit much?” Gerald asked her.

“I'm just trying to get ready for our show. I have a chance for the lead!” Angel's eyes glowed with excitement and Gerald couldn't argue with her passion for her dancing.

I smiled at her as I ordered chicken, chips, and soup and we found a table. “Here, Angel, you can have my soup,” I offered, placing it on Angel's tray.

“Thanks, Keisha,” she said, “but I doubt if I have room for so much food. Have you called Jalani yet?” Angel asked her brother, trying to change the subject. I grinned as we watched Gerald squirm. She knew he liked Jalani—everybody knew it, but he had yet to figure out how to tell Jalani himself.

“No,” Gerald sighed. “What would a classy girl like Jalani want with a guy like me? I got nothing to offer. She's
beautiful, she's got money, she's almost famous. She even drives a nicer car than I do. I just like looking at her. I wouldn't embarrass her by trying to talk to her. What would I talk about?”

“Give it a chance, Gerald. She told me she thinks you're cute!” I added, enjoying this too much.

“You're dumb, Gerald,” Angel said as she nibbled at her salad. “You've got more class than most of the dudes in that school who are always hanging around her. She knows a real man when she sees one. Have you noticed that she doesn't talk to any of them?”

“She's right, Gerald,” I told him, taking one of his french fries.

“Well, if she doesn't want to talk to any of them, I know she doesn't want to talk to me!”

“Maybe she isn't talking to them because she'd rather be talking to you,” reasoned Angel.

“Not a chance!”

“Give it a try.”

“Can't.” I know Gerald hated feeling like a seventh-grade idiot, but that was how Jalani affected him.

“Like I said, dumb!” Angel repeated. “But I love you, Gerald. You just have to believe that you're lovable.”

“You have to love me 'cause I'm your brother.”

“I have to love you because you have a car now and I have a ride home, even if it is an old beat-up Ford!”

“She has a new red BMW!” I added.

“Don't remind me!” groaned Gerald.

“So ask her for a ride in it.” Now I knew that Jalani
would jump at the chance to talk to Gerald, but she had too much dignity to call him first.

“Not a chance,” Gerald insisted.

“Give it a try.”

“Can't.”

“Like I said, dumb!”

“Talk about dumb! You ate nothing! Here, finish my fries—the ones that Keisha didn't sneak off the plate!”

“I hate cold fries—and I told you I ate after practice.” Angel got up from the table and put on her coat. Her large down coat made her tiny body look even smaller. “See ya, Keisha. We tried to talk some sense into his big head!”

I watched them leave and thought about Gerald's pride. He and Angel lived in a high-rise apartment in a low-rent neighborhood. I knew that Gerald wasn't ashamed of where he lived, but he had told me many times that he was afraid that a girl who had modeled in New York and drove her own red BMW wouldn't understand the world that Gerald called home. And he wasn't going to give her the chance to find out. I sighed and headed back to my job.

After work, while I was unlocking the door to my house, I could hear the phone ringing insistently. I dropped my purse and packages, and chuckled at myself. What was I working for? More than half of my paycheck went for clothes at the store I worked at! Even with my employee discount, I had very little left. But I did get to rag it tough! I rushed to pick up the phone. It was Jalani, sounding concerned.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

“It's Angel!” Jalani told me breathlessly. “She collapsed at dance class tonight and had to be rushed to the hospital!”

“Oh no! I just saw Angel and Gerald at the mall a few hours ago! Were you there when it happened? Tell me what's goin' on!”

“I started taking classes at the conservatory a few weeks ago,” Jalani explained. “I didn't even know Angel was taking classes there, too. But right in the middle of class, a girl ran into our room, screaming, ‘Help! Somebody call 911! A girl passed out in our class!' So I ran over there to see if I could help, and it's Angel sprawled out on the floor. It was scary.”

“So what did you do?” I asked. My heart was pounding.

“Well, Angel's teacher's got gumdrops for brains. She's screaming hysterically into the confusion, ‘Does anyone know CPR?'”

“You mean the dance teacher didn't know CPR? That's unbelievable!”

“That's what I thought, but I didn't have time to worry about her problems just then. Angel didn't look like she was breathing. So I told the ditzy teacher that I knew CPR, and me and this other girl in my class started doing the breathing and compressions.”

“So was Angel breathing at this point?” I interrupted.

“I don't know, girl. Angel didn't move, except for the movements we made as we worked on her. I was so scared we were going to lose her. She was blue and clammy, and so thin and frail. Pretty soon we heard the sirens from the life squad. I just prayed they'd get there in time.”

“Oh my goodness! What happened when they got there? Did she come to?”

“Hold on. I'm trying to tell you. When the life squad burst in the door, Gerald was right behind them, screaming her name. He'd been waiting in the parking lot, and when he saw the ambulance, he told me later that somehow he just knew it was Angel they had come for. That dude really loves his baby sister!”

“You got that right! So tell me, what happened then?”

“Gerald ran to the front, pushing the paramedics aside, screaming, ‘That's my sister!' They got him out of the way by explaining that he was stopping them from helping her, so he just stood there helplessly, not ashamed to cry or pray.”

“Poor Gerald,” I murmured. “I feel for him.”

“While they worked on her, setting up oxygen and starting an IV and stuff, I walked over to Gerald and took his hand. It was as natural and easy as breathing. He was so scared. He grabbed my hand, forgot about how scared he was of me, and didn't turn it loose until they took Angel out of there. I don't think he was even aware of it. He was only thinking about Angel.”

“So when they took her out, was she breathing?”

“Yeah, her color had returned just a little and her eyelids had flickered a little. The paramedics told Gerald they had her stabilized and for him to follow them to the hospital. He was too shaky to drive, so we ended up going in my car.”

“It's funny how things happen,” I told her. “Gerald has been dying to talk to you and ride in your BMW, and all of a sudden, because of a crisis, it falls in his lap.”

“I know. If both of us hadn't been so scared of what might happen to Angel, it might have taken the whole school year before he got around to talkin' to me.” Jalani chuckled. “The paramedics said before they pulled out, ‘Angel is in good hands now. You two drive carefully. I don't want you and your girlfriend getting hurt.' Gerald and I both giggled a little over that,” Jalani admitted.

I still sat on the floor among the bags I had brought in with me. I had taken off my coat and shoes and listened like no tomorrow. “I feel you, girlfriend.”

“It was cold out there, and all I had on was my leotard, so Gerald gave me his jacket. It smelled like him—kinda warm and leathery.” Jalani stopped for a moment, remembering.

“What happened when you got to the hospital?” I asked softly.

“Oh, Gerald tried to reach his mother, but she wasn't home and not at work, so he dealt with the questions and the paperwork by himself. There was nothing else to do but wait. So he paced. He bit his fingernails. He prayed. I wasn't sure what to do. Finally he told me, ‘I don't like this place.'”

I told Jalani, “There's a good reason for that. That's the hospital where they took Robbie after the accident, and where they took Angel after the fire in their apartment. Also, I think an aunt he used to live with was taken there when she died. It's no wonder the place freaks him out.”

“He told me a lot of that while we waited. I took his hand
and asked him to tell me all about Angel. That helped—he enjoys talking about her. I had no idea what troubles they've lived through. He told me about how he first found out he had a sister, how he loved her and protected her. He told me about how he found out that she was being abused by their stepfather, and about the fire that had saved them both. When he had finished, I think he felt better. He told me I was easy to talk to.”

“Gerald is solid,” I said. “Built tough.”

“I'm starting to see that,” Jalani said with admiration in her voice. “Then he asked me to tell him about my life, about how I ended up going to Hazelwood in my senior year and why I gave up modeling in New York. So I told him everything. He was so easy to talk to.”

“I don't think you've ever even told me and Rhonda more than bits and pieces,” I said.

“I know. It's hard being new among so many old friends. I was a little scared at first, but now I feel closer to all of you.” Jalani said quietly. “I know Gerald thought I'm all that because I have a nice car and such, but my life has been rough, too,” she began. “I was born in Nigeria. My mother was Nigerian, an Ibo, and my father an American missionary. We lived in a village out in the bush, with dirt floors, no windows, and no toilet. But I was happy as a child because my mother loved me, my father spoiled me, and I had the love of the whole village, who all treated me as if I were their own.”

“I bet that was awesome,” I said.

“When hard times came because of the droughts and
political problems,” she continued, “my parents decided to move back to the States. We lived in shacks and tenements all over the South while my father preached. But gradually, my mother got tired of his refusal to settle down, and of his frequent descents into what he called ‘forgivable sin.' Mother got tired of forgiving him for giving more than brotherly love to the women in the congregation, so they split up. It broke her heart, but it made her stronger.”

“Rough stuff,” I told her. “So that's when you went to New York?”

“Yeah. Mother and I found a small place of our own right in the middle of New York City. She loved the fast pace of the place. I started modeling when I was very young, and she never let me spend a penny of it. She saved it, learned to invest it, and tripled what I had in five years, then tripled that amount in the next two years. It's almost as if she knew I would need something to survive on.”

“So that's how you saved enough for the BMW?” I asked, interrupting.

“Goodness, no. Mother would never have let me spend that much on a car. She won it on
Wheel of Fortune!
It was the most fun she ever had in her life.” Jalani grew silent on the other end of the line. “I guess I told you that mother was diagnosed with cancer two years ago, and she gradually faded away into darkness. I thought that I couldn't live when she died last year. Gerald was so understanding when I told him.”

“I told you he was an awesome dude. Now all this is happening while you're waiting to find out about Angel?”

“Yeah, the waiting was the worst part—the not knowing. Being able to talk to each other really helped. I told him he was very strong. In my home village the men would have said that he had been through the fire and the scars had made him a strong and mighty man.”

“Now I never quite thought of him as mighty,” I said, laughing, “but he has had his share of tough luck.”

“By that time, a doctor came out and called for Gerald. He grabbed my hand and we walked over there together.”

“What did the doctor say? Is Angel going to be OK?” I asked with worry, remembering the reason for Jalani's call in the first place.

“She told Gerald that Angel was seriously dehydrated and anemic. The tests said she was downright malnourished. Then the doctor asked Gerald when was the last time that Angel had eaten a good meal.”

“Oh, no! What did Gerald say?”

“He felt guilty, of course, like it was his fault that Angel wasn't eating. He told the doctor that Angel was a dancer who took pride in being thin and that she had been working real hard to get a part in a performance—dancing several hours a day—and eating very little. I tried to tell him that it wasn't his fault, but he was really upset.”

“Did the doctor say what was wrong with Angel?”

“She said Angel's got anorexia nervosa and it's common in young dancers and gymnasts. These kids starve themselves to death, and they're not even aware that's what they're doing.”

“That's deep—and scary, too.”

“It's worse than that,” Jalani said. “Gerald told me that Angel's dance teacher constantly called the girls fat and made fun of them for their size.”