Mama's Boy (21 page)

47

E
ven Leslie knew something was wrong.

Mommy, why does daddy look so sad?” their little girl had asked this morning as they left the house.

Phillip was still angry. And while Kay understood why, it didn't make the situation any easier.

“Daddy just has a lot on his mind,” Kay replied. That seemed to satisfy Leslie because she went back to playing with her Barbie in the backseat.

After Kay dropped Leslie off at daycare, she headed to a campaign strategy meeting. Her mind was all over the place and she was in no mood to strategize. Plus she needed to figure out how to handle Marty. She had so much on her plate, she didn't know how she could possibly focus on a campaign, especially now with Valerie gone. But since time was winding down, Kay didn't have a choice. That's why she was sitting, without complaint, with Loni and Jeff, going over some strategies. Luckily, the temp that the agency had sent over this morning was diligently taking notes.

“You're pretty good at that.” Loni motioned toward the pad that the temp was writing on. “You don't miss a thing.”

The temp, Morgan, gave a modest smile. “Yeah, I'm very meticulous with my notes. Hopefully, it will be good enough to take me somewhere.”

They made more small talk about the campaign, then a text came in from Phillip.

Call me
.
It's urgent.

She'd been in the meeting for most of the morning so she hadn't even realized that she missed five calls from Phillip, and since her secretary had been instructed not to put anyone through, he probably hadn't been able to get in touch with her that way, either. Something had to be wrong because he hadn't said a word to her this morning.

“Hey, guys, if you'll excuse me. I need to make a call.” All of them nodded as they made their way back to their respective offices.

Kay punched in her husband's cell phone number. “Hey. I'm sorry I missed your call. I was in a meeting. What's going on?”

“Ryan's school called,” Phillip said, skipping any formalities. “I'm on my way up there now.”

“What? What's wrong?” Kay said, sitting up in her seat.

“He's okay. But apparently he's gotten into some trouble.”

“Trouble? Ryan? What kind of trouble?” Kay asked in disbelief. Not her straitlaced son.

“I don't know. Something about drugs.”

“Drugs! Are you kidding me?”

“Apparently they found him making them or something. I don't have details. Just meet me there.”

“Okay, I'm on my way,” she replied, her heart racing.

“All right. I'm about ten minutes away.”

“See you soon,” she said hurriedly. She stood and gathered her things. This wasn't making sense. Ryan never got into trouble. Somebody was setting him up, or wrongfully accusing him of something. She'd almost have to catch him in the act to believe he was capable of doing anything that would warrant a call from the school headmaster, let alone believe he was mixed up with drugs.

Twenty minutes later, both Kay and Phillip sat in front of the headmaster, Mr. Montclair, at Whittington Academy. They spent big money to keep their son in the prestigious private school and this was their first visit to the school for disciplinary reasons.

“Thanks for joining us,” Mr. Montclair said as he shifted in his seat behind his large cherrywood desk. A stout man with snow-white hair and brass-rimmed glasses, Mr. Montclair was all about business.

“Okay, Mr. Montclair. You have our undivided attention,” Phillip said.

Just then the door opened and Ryan was led in by one of the school security guards. His eyes were downcast and his demeanor revealed his shame.

“Ryan, have a seat,” Mr. Montclair sternly said before turning his attention back to Phillip and Kay. Ryan still didn't look at them as he slid onto a bench along the back wall.

“Mr. and Mrs. Christiansen, I'm sorry to have to inform you of this but Master Ryan has found himself in a world of trouble and Whittington Academy is faced with no other choice but to expel him.”

“Expel?” both Kay and Phillip said at the same time.

“What happened?” Kay said.

“Well,” the headmaster said, looking at his notes, “it appears Ryan has been manufacturing drugs on our campus and has even set up an elaborate distribution system, involving other students.”

“What? That's ludicrous,” Kay said. “My son isn't some drug dealer.”

Mr. Montclair reached in his drawer and pulled out several Baggies of what looked like small blue pills. “These were found on another student today. He was trying to sell them. When he was caught, he fingered Ryan as the person who gave him the drugs to sell.”

Ryan sat up in his chair. “He's a li—”

Phillip turned to him. “Don't you dare talk like that!” he snapped.

They rarely got angry with Ryan, so this fury was completely out of character.

“Mr. Montclair,” Kay began, “I'm sure you understand due process. We are going to need more than just the word of someone who was actually
caught
selling drugs that our son is the one behind this all.”

“Of course,” he replied. “We believe in having all the facts as well. That's why we set up cameras in the chemistry lab.” He tapped some keys on his desktop computer, then turned the screen around to face them. “Master Ryan is on camera manufacturing drugs.”

That was indeed Ryan in the deserted lab, weighing, measuring, cutting, and tapping away on a computer. But it looked like he could've been doing any kind of experiment.

They must've been on the same page, because Phillip asked, “How do you know it's drugs?”

“Trust me, Mr. and Mrs. Christiansen, we wouldn't have you here unless we were absolutely sure. You son was making, then distributing, ecstasy.”

“What?” Phillip exclaimed. Kay was too stunned to speak.

“As you know,” Mr. Montclair continued, “we have a zero-­tolerance policy here at Whittington Academy. That means any child with even a first offense involving drugs is permanently expelled.”

“Ryan, do you want to explain to me what's going on?” Phillip asked, turning to glare at his son. The last time Ryan had been in any trouble was when he was nine and had sneakily eaten all of his cousin's cupcakes. He'd gotten sick and thrown up all over the birthday boy. So to go from cupcakes to drugs was unfathomable.

“Answer me, son.”

Ryan shrugged. “I don't know what he's talking about . . .” Kay couldn't understand what was going on. Ryan was acting cocky and nonchalant. She'd expected that he'd be crying apologetically.

Mr. Montclair shook his head, like he was thoroughly disappointed. “Well, when you're as intelligent as Master Ryan, it's not that hard,” Mr. Montclair said. “We just had hoped he would use his intelligence for good.”

Kay was dumbfounded as she stared at Ryan. “So all those nights you claimed you were doing chemistry equations you were trying to figure out how to make drugs?” she asked in disbelief.

“I didn't do anything,” Ryan said. “Someone's setting me up.”

Mr. Montclair turned the screen back around and signaled he would no longer entertain any lies. “Again, I assure you, we have all the evidence we need to back up our claim, which we will gladly produce should you wish to pursue this legally. But let me urge you to consider that route carefully.” He closed the file on his desk. “The only reason the police aren't involved now is because we don't want the stain on the legacy of Whittington Academy. But we won't
­hesitate to press charges and answer any questions, within the measure of the law, of course, posed to us by the media.”

His veiled threat hung in the air. He knew Kay was running for mayor and this was not something they'd want getting out.

“Unfortunately, per our policy, you know that we don't refund tuition for moral expulsions,” Mr. Montclair continued. “And it saddens me to say this, but effective today, Ryan is no longer a student at Whittington Academy.”

Both Kay and Phillip could tell there would be no more discussion, no changing Mr. Montclair's mind.

“Thank you, sir,” Phillip said, standing. “My wife and I will handle this from here and our sincerest apologies on behalf of our son.”

Phillip wasn't a violent man, but as he yanked Ryan up off the bench, he looked like he wanted to drag Ryan out by his curly hair.

Kay led the way out of Mr. Montclair's office and was shocked to see Camille sitting with her husband and son in the waiting area outside.

“Camille, what's going on?” Kay asked.

“You tell me,” Camille said, looking directly at Ryan, who all but retreated behind his father's back.

“Hello, Phillip, Kay,” Vincent said, standing. When he saw the look of confusion on their faces, he continued. “We're here, we assume, for the same reason as you. Drugs.”

“Yeah, apparently Charlie was caught selling drugs.” Camille snatched him up from the bench. “He says Ryan was making ecstasy pills here at school and had him selling it.”

Kay should've known it was Charlie that Ryan was working with. “Well, we don't know exactly what happened, but yes, it ap
pears the boys were caught up in some illegal activity,” Kay continued.

Charlie suddenly began crying. He looked scared out of his mind. “Mama, I didn't want to do it. But Ryan said it made us cool because everybody was coming to us to get the pills. He made it where they could still get high but it's not as dangerous. He said we were actually doing the druggies a favor.”

“Shut up!” Ryan yelled. “You're lying.”

“Stop it!” Mr. Montclair said, appearing in the lobby. “All of you stop it! We will not do this on the campus of our beloved institution.” He turned to Phillip and Kay. “Mr. and Mrs. Christiansen, we would appreciate it if you'd get your son and leave the premises. His locker has been cleared out and the security guard is waiting out front with all of his belongings.” He turned to Camille and Vincent. “Mr. and Mrs. Bailey, I will see you in my office now.”

Kay was crushed at the hateful glare Camille shot her as they walked past. Neither Kay nor Phillip said a word as Phillip grabbed Ryan by the arm and pushed him out the door. As they walked to Phillip's car, Kay wanted to cry as she looked at the expression on Ryan's face. She'd seen that look one too many times. Ryan looked guilty.

48

I
f seeing her son go to jail was the hardest thing Gloria had ever done, going to tell him the truth was the second hardest. Gloria had tossed and turned all night trying to figure out what to do. But if that man was blackmailing Kay, that meant it was just a matter of time before Jamal got wind of the story. He had to hear it from her. His hatred for Elton was deep enough as it is. She would die if he started hating her, too.

“Sign right here,” the guard at the front desk said.

She despised the degrading process of checking in to visit inmates. She was searched and treated like a common criminal herself. But unlike Elton, at no time did she blame Jamal. She really did feel like he was a victim, just like the poor officer who lost his life. And while Gloria would never justify or excuse taking anyone's life, she would go to her grave knowing her son wasn't a cold-blooded killer.

“You can wait in here,” the officer said, directing her to an oversized waiting room that was filled with weeping wives, sad-faced
children, and disheartened mothers. She looked around at the twenty or so visitors in the room, and none of them appeared to be fathers. Was that part of the problem? These fatherless children? Her immediate reaction was to say that Jamal wasn't fatherless. But if she was being honest with herself, essentially he was.

Gloria sat and fiddled with her purse strap. She'd brought some cookies to give to him. But that had been the first thing the guard confiscated. She offered to let him taste some, but he still wasn't having it. They weren't allowed to bring anything in from the outside. The door opened and Jamal shuffled in, metal shackles around his feet and arms.

Do not cry. Do not cry,
Gloria told herself.

Jamal struggled to smile. She knew he was trying to be strong for her. So she returned his smile.

“Hey, baby. How are you?”

“I'm still here,” he said, falling into his seat. “Ma, has this case really blown up?” he asked. “Folks inside are talking about there are protests. They're talking about it on CNN and Fox and all the TV stations.”

Gloria nodded her head. “Yes, sweetie. Some people are using it to further their cause. Some are really upset about what happened. Those Justice Coalition got Brian and Dix out and have them doing a lot of interviews. But we're only focused on you.”

“You mean
you're
only focused on me.”

“Your father would be here,” she said, knowing that was what he was implying, “but . . .”

“Ma, don't even make excuses. He's not here. He hasn't been here. Because the good reverend can't bear being seen going inside a jailhouse.”

Gloria wasn't even going to try to cover for her husband anymore. So she just patted her son's hand. “Well, I tried to bring you some cookies. Your favorite, chocolate chip pecan.”

He closed his eyes as if he were savoring the thought of the cookies. “Let me guess, the guards confiscated them?”

“Yeah. They said I couldn't bring them in.” She feigned a laugh. “I guess they thought I was going to give you a knife or something to break out of here.”

He lost his smile. “I wish I could break out.”

She squeezed his hand. “You'll be out soon enough. I promise you.”

His eyes started to glisten. “Don't make promises you can't keep.”

Gloria changed the subject, filling him in on a few other happenings in Jasper and what it was like staying with his grandmother. But they both could tell it was empty conversation. And as Gloria saw the clock inch closer toward the end of visiting hours, she knew she couldn't delay any longer.

“Jamal, honey, I have something to tell you.”

His eyebrows scrunched and he frowned. “What?”

She took a deep breath. “I have wrestled with this because I'm just going to be honest. ”

“Okay, Ma. You're scaring me. Didn't want me to know what? My case? You don't think I'm getting off ?” He sat up as his face filled with panic. “You think they're going to kill me?”

“No, no. It's nothing like that. It's nothing about your case,” she said. “It's about you and us.”

“Mama, can you just spit it out? Visiting hours are almost up.”

She took another deep breath. “Father, forgive me,” she mumbled. “Jamal, we love you. We always have since the day you came into our lives.”

“You mean the day I was born?”

Her words felt happy as she said, “The day you were adopted.”

“What?” he said, pulling his hands away.

“In my heart, you are mine,” she said through tear-filled eyes. “You will always be mine.”

“I'm adopted?” he asked.

“Technically,” she said.

“So, you and Dad aren't my mom and dad?”

“I'm not your biological mother,” she said. “But I'm your mother in every sense of the word.”

He was stunned. “Who are my biological parents then?”

Gloria was too nervous to speak.

“You need to spit it out, Ma, and tell me what's going on!” He raised his voice a little too high, but she understood his frustration. A guard shot him a look and he settled down. “Ma, what are you talking about? You need to stop with the lies and tell me now.”

“Well, your father,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat, “your father is your biological father.”

“What!” he exclaimed.

The words suddenly just rushed out. And she told him everything. When she finished, he sat with his mouth gaping open. “So my real mother is the one trying to put me in jail?”

“I'm sorry, son. We didn't know. We just put two and two together.”

He sat speechless for a moment, then finally said, “Why are you telling me this now?”

She reached for him. He scooted back away from her touch.

“We wanted you to be aware.”

“Everything is a lie.
You
're
a liar.”

Those words tore at her soul.

Tears trickled down his cheeks and he trembled as he spoke. “I have beat myself up, wondering what I did wrong. Why I felt like a burden.”

“You were never a burden.”

He slammed his palm on the table. “Don't you get it? I've killed myself trying to figure out why Dad had this animosity toward me and you can keep lying and say he didn't but I felt it.” He pounded his chest. “I felt it right here!”

“Jamal, w-we just wanted . . .” Gloria didn't know what to say. She expected him to be mad at Elton, but she had no idea he'd be so angry at her, not with the way she'd loved him.

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

She glanced down, trying to find the right words. But somehow,
I never wanted you to know
didn't seem like the right thing to say. “I've wanted to many times but I couldn't find the words and as far as I was concerned, you belonged to me.”

“That's just it,” he cried, “I don't. I belonged to a girl who was raped by my dad. And you helped him cover it up!”

Gloria trembled. She was at a loss for words.

“All my life, you and Daddy been preaching about doing the right thing and y'all are nothing but liars,” he continued.

“Jamal, please,” she cried.

He ignored her as he called for the guard.

“Son, your time's not up,” the guard said.

“Yes, it is,” Jamal said. “Get me out of here before I do something I really regret.”

He looked at Gloria with a hatred that she knew would haunt her the rest of her life.