The Bridge (18 page)

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Authors: Solomon Jones

BOOK: The Bridge
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“But, Mom, I—”
“But nothin'. You nine years old, Janay. Ain't a boy on this earth worth fightin' over, especially these boys around here. You think I work two jobs every day so you can be out here fightin' over these nothin'-ass boys? I'm tryin' to get us the hell outta here.”
“Mom,” Janay said, explaining slowly as if she was speaking to a child, “I won the fight.”
“That's even more reason for you to stay outta that foolishness. These people 'round here'll make a fight between little girls into somethin' it ain't even gotta be. Now I don't want you out there in that mess no more. You hear me?”
Kenya was sitting on a chair across from them, watching as Lily stared hard at her daughter and grabbed her arm.
“I said, 'Do you
hear
me?'”
“Yes,” Janay said in a near whisper.
“All right then. Get in there and change your clothes. Kenya, you come here.”
Kenya came and sat between Lily's legs as the woman reached over and grabbed a comb and hair grease from the end table.
“Look at you with your hair all over your head. I guess you jumped in it, too, huh?”
“They was gon' try to jump Janay,” she said. “I ain't know what else to do.”
Lily smiled. If her daughter was going to have a friend, she was glad that it was Kenya. At least the girl was loyal.
As Lily pulled the comb through a tangled patch of Kenya's hair, she thought of how the girl would stay at her home for hours—doing her homework during the school year, and then staying up with Janay, playing with dolls, and eventually, staying over.
“It ain't a lot of little girls 'round here I would let in my house,” Lily said as she deftly twisted Kenya's hair into cornrows. “You know that, don't you?”
Kenya thought about that as she felt the comb working through her hair.
“I wouldn't wanna go to a lotta people house,” Kenya said, looking down at her hands sadly. “Not even mine.”
Lily started to respond, then thought better of it. She knew what the child meant.
“Sometime I wish I lived with you, Miss Lily,” Kenya said softly. “I wish I could stay here so I wouldn't have to go back.”
 
 
 
After Lily finished Kenya's hair, and Janay bathed and changed her clothes, the two of them went outside and played as if the fight with Rochelle had never happened.
Between trips to the store to get twenty-five-cent Hugs and bags of Andy Capp Hot Fries, they played until the sun sank down in the sky and rested against the rooftop of the high-rise.
By seven o'clock, they had switched games and were playing tag. That's when Lily came to her apartment window and called Janay in for dinner.
“Come on, Kenya,” Janay said as she started toward home. “You know you want some o' that chicken my mom made. Don't even front.”
Kenya hadn't planned on fronting. She was hungry, and she knew that Aunt Judy probably hadn't cooked. So Kenya followed Janay
inside, and the two of them sat at the table as Lily zipped around the kitchen, placing chicken legs, corn on the cob, and mashed potatoes on plastic plates.
“Bless the food, Janay,” Lily said as she wiped her hands on a towel and sat down at the table with the girls.
“God is great, God is good, and we thank Him for our food,” Janay mumbled, pausing and lifting her eyes to glance across the table. “And thank you for sending my friend Kenya to eat it with us. Amen.”
Kenya scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes and slowly lifted them to her mouth.
“What's wrong with you, girl?” Lily said. “You don't like my cookin' no more?”
“I like it, Miss Lily. It's just that …”
She let the rest of the sentence trail off.
“It's just that what?”
“Nothin',” Kenya said, swallowing the potatoes.
She pushed the food back and forth on her plate. Kenya thought that if she stayed late enough, Miss Lily would call her Aunt Judy and ask if she could spend the night.
Lily nipped it in the bud with her usual forthrightness.
“You can't spend the night tonight, Kenya. Your Aunt Judy want you to come home.”
“I wasn't tryin' to spend the night, Miss Lily,” Kenya said in her best little-girl voice. “My mom supposed to be comin' over tonight, and I gotta be home when she get there. We goin' to the movies.”
Lily started to call her on the lie. But she would see Kenya the next evening and talk with her about it then.
 
 
 
Lynch, Janay, and Lily sat for a long time after they finished talking. There seemed to be no sound in the room. But in reality, they were listening to the echoes of Kenya's story.
It was a story that was at once haunting and heart-rending, hopeful
and sad. They all desperately wished for it to go on. They only hoped that there would somehow be more to tell. For now, though, there were only regrets.
“I wish I woulda just let her stay here with me,” Lily said, shaking her head. “But Judy ain't want her stayin' here no more. She knew how Kenya felt about me, and she ain't like it. She ain't want us bein' that close.”
“Had you and Judy had some kind of falling-out?” Lynch asked.
“Darnell and me was seein' each other for a while back before he started smokin'.”
Lynch tried unsuccessfully to hide his surprise.
“What, I can't want a man, too?” Lily said with an embarrassed smile. “I was lonely, and he used to come here to get Kenya when she would spend the night. I guess one thing just led to another. And Judy ain't like it when she found out. We stopped speakin', and after while, she stopped lettin' Kenya spend the night down here.”
“So she could stay here during the day, but at night, she had to go home, even though Judy knew what was going on in her apartment?” Lynch asked.
“That ain't matter. Judy just wanted to be in control o' somethin'. She wasn't nobody otherwise—just Sonny woman. Some old has-been livin' in the projects. Kenya was the only thing in her life where she had some say, so she tried to control everything Kenya did. And even though she knew it woulda been better for Kenya to stay at my place—someplace safe and stable, without a whole buncha people runnin' in and out—Judy wanted to call the shots.
“Sad part of it is, she ain't care about Kenya for real. 'Cause if she did, she wouldn'ta spent so much time tryin' to keep her from the people who loved her the most.”
Lynch nodded and turned to Janay. “So what about the fight with Rochelle? Did you take her seriously when she said it wasn't the end of it?”
“Not really,” Janay said. “I mean, Rochelle, she kinda crazy, and
she like to fight. But usually, somethin' like that, we probably end up bein' friends again sooner or later.”
“But when she said it wasn't over, did you think she would be coming back or trying to involve other people?” Lynch asked.
“It wasn't like we rolled on 'em or nothin' like that. Her cousin ran, and it was two-on-two. If they wanted to fight some more, they probably woulda came back outside when we did. But they didn't, so I thought it was over.”
“Did you take it seriously, Lily?”
“If I woulda took that mess seriously, I wouldn'ta let Janay and Kenya go back outside. Far as Rochelle and them, I know her people, and I know they ain't even like that. Rochelle mom go to work every day just like I do, and she one o' the few people in this place I know I could go and talk to if I had to.”
“So why'd you tell Janay that it could escalate into something bigger?”
“I told her for next time,” Lily said. “'Cause next time she get out there fightin', it might be some people that ain't tryin' to let it go at that.”
“I'm still gonna have to talk to the girl and her mother,” Lynch said. “Just to cover all the bases. What apartment are they in?”
“They in ID,” Lily said. “Rochelle mother name Florine. We call her Flo.”
Lynch jotted down the information.
“But the person you really need to be lookin' at is that girl Tyreeka. She the last one seen Kenya. She was with her Friday night. But then she disappeared with some drug dealer from down Twelfth and Parrish.”
“Where's the boy now?”
“I don't know. We went down there yesterday—”
“Who's we?”
“Me and Darnell and Tyreeka mother. We went down there to talk to him, and it turned out Sonny stole the boy car and used it to get away from y'all. So the boy act like he was gon' try to find Sonny. He left the corner, and ain't nobody seen him since. And
Tyreeka, she come traipsin' her li'l stank ass back here yesterday afternoon with a bunch o' shoppin' bags. She say she left Kenya at the front o' the buildin'. But I think she lyin'. 'Cause her and that boy claim he gave her some money, and that's how she bought all that mess down the Gallery. But I think somebody paid her to keep her mouth shut or somethin'.”
“What apartment is she in?”
“Somewhere on the tenth floor. Ask somebody up there, they'll be able to tell you.”
Lynch caught up on his notes and spoke without looking up. “Is there anything else I should know?”
Lily hesitated, then looked down at her daughter Janay.
“You ain't gon' say you talked to us. Right, Kevin? 'Cause I really don't want my name up in it.”
“I already promised you I wouldn't mention you or Janay,” Lynch said. “I'm going to stick to that.”
“Well, I don't know if you know this or not,” Lily said. “But Janay saw Sonny on the elevator Saturday mornin'. I started to call 9-I-I, but like I said, I ain't want Janay name in it. So I went up to the cop that was guardin' Judy door and told him I was the one who seen him. But really, it was Janay.”
“How did you happen to see him?” Lynch asked Janay.
“I had came out to see if I could find Kenya after Miss Daneen came in here and said she was missin'. I thought maybe if I went outside, I might see her. But when I went to catch the elevator and the doors opened, Mr. Sonny was on there.”
“What was he doing?” Lynch asked.
“Looked like he mighta been goin' up to the roof. He pushed the twelfth-floor button a couple times.”
“Was anyone on the elevator with him?”
“No, but it was a piece o' Kenya shirt on the floor in the corner.”
“Did he seem nervous?”
“He just seemed like he was in a rush. I don't think he seen that
piece o' her shirt, and if he did, he ain't seem worried about it. I just remember him askin' me if I was gettin' on, and he kept lookin' at his watch. Then the doors closed, and I came back and told my mom I saw him.”
“Do you remember what time it was?”
“I just know it was after seven o'clock, 'cause I remember the first cartoon was on Channel 29 'round that time. I tried to watch it, but I couldn't, 'cause I kept thinkin' 'bout Kenya.”
“Thanks, Janay,” Lynch said, turning to Lily.
“There's only one more thing I need to know from you,” he said.
“What's that?”
“In your gut, what do you really think happened to Kenya?”
Lily was quiet for a long time.
“I think she got mixed up in somethin' she ain't have nothin' to do with. And whatever it was, it had somethin' to do with that apartment up there. I don't know if it was Sonny and Judy, or if it was one o' them men that be up there smokin' and trickin'.
“But I tell you one thing. Kenya was loved. She still is. And the deeper you get into this, the more you gon' find out how much. People you thought ain't never give a damn 'bout that girl gon' come up out the woodwork.”
“I hope you're right,” Lynch said as he got up and walked to the door.
Someone knocked just as he started to twist the knob. When he opened it, he saw Daneen standing there, looking up into his eyes with a determination that hadn't been there before. He looked back at her, but only for a moment. He was learning that he couldn't look at her for long.
“Kevin,” she said softly. “I ain't expect to see you here. But I guess it's a good thing I did. 'Cause I'm here to find my baby. And I ain't leavin' again 'til I do.”
Sonny wasn't about to be trapped in a run-down shooting gallery in the Badlands. Not after all he'd been through. So when the knock came, and the doorknob began to turn, he looked at Judy and held a finger to his lips. Then he moved his head to indicate that she should stand against the wall.
When she did so, Sonny flung open the door, leveled his gun at the man's chest, then reached out and snatched him inside, only to find that it was the owner of the house—the man who had let them in the back door a few minutes before.
The man threw up his hands to block his face, and his tired eyes widened in fear.
“I told you I ain't want nobody comin' up here,” Sonny said in a low voice.
“I was just gon' tell you I had some ten-dollar bags out here in case you needed some more dope,” the man said in his gravelly voice. “I try to take care o' my best guests—you know, the ones that pays real good. I ain't mean to—”
“Don't knock on the door again,” Sonny said, leaning in close. “I don't need no dope, man. I just need to be left alone. Now don't let nobody else come to this door 'less they want some o' this lead in they ass, you understand?”
The man nodded nervously. “It won't happen again.”
“It better not,” Sonny said, pushing the man back out into the hallway and slamming the door.
Sonny and Judy listened as the sound of his footsteps faded down the hall. Then Judy let out a sigh of relief and sat down on the bed.
“You sure it's safe to be in here?” she said, looking at the dry wooden slats behind the plaster of the crumbling walls.
“It is for a little while,” Sonny said, sitting down next to her. “Why, you scared?”
“I'm scared for you,” she said, reaching out to stroke his face.
He grabbed her hand before she could touch him. “I wanna know about what I asked you,” he said soberly. “I want the truth about Kenya.”
She looked in his eyes and saw pain. She'd never seen that in all the years she'd known him. His eyes had always been guarded before. But now, he was allowing her a glimpse. It was a sight so rare that she found it difficult to look away.
When she did, it was to see inside herself.
“You told me it was a lot o' things I ain't know about you,” she said hesitantly. “Things I ain't know 'cause I ain't wanna know.
“But it was a lot about me you ain't know either. And it wasn't 'cause I ain't tell you. You just wasn't listenin' when I did.
“You knew about my son dyin' in Vietnam, and my daughter bleedin' to death on the bedroom floor. You knew about they father gettin' killed in prison. You knew all that 'cause I told you. I guess I was hopin' it would make me real to you, and not just some old hoe for you to sleep with when you wanted to. But lookin' back, I guess all it did was give you what you needed to use me. To get my hopes up like you was gon' rescue me from losin' more o' the people I cared about.
“I guess that's what made me hold on to you so hard, Sonny. But the harder I tried to hold on, the more you backed away. And the more you backed away, the harder I tried to hold you.
“After while, I woulda did whatever you said just to be with you. That's why I started sellin' when you told me to. That's why I kept doin' it, even when I ain't see my life gettin' no better. That's why I saw things between you and Kenya that wasn't even there. And I guess the thought o' losin' you, and losin' that hope you gave me, I guess that made me think Kenya was in the way.
“I kept seein' you movin' away from me and closer to Kenya, and my mind started playin' tricks on me. I started tellin' myself you wanted her more than you wanted me. Then Thursday when you took her shoppin', I started thinkin' real crazy. Started thinkin' like I needed to get Kenya out the way. So I beat her. I guess I was hopin' she would just get tired o' me and run away. Then it could be me and you again, just like it used to be.”
She stopped and looked up at Sonny, searching his eyes for sympathy. When she saw none, she turned from him and looked out the window.
Through the tattered curtain that covered it, she could see Cambria Street, where addicts scrambled and clawed for more.
She could see dealers, risking their lives on dangerous corners for the chance to peddle death—one hit, one pill, one injection at a time.
She looked at it all and saw herself. It was a sight she could barely stomach. She knew that Sonny had no such compunction. It was that heartlessness that had drawn her to him. She'd always believed that she could fix it.
When she turned from the window and looked back into his eyes, however, she realized for the first time that she'd never needed to fix his heart. It had been there all the time. It just wasn't with her.
“I knew what I was doin' was wrong, Sonny. I knew I shouldn'ta been sellin' that shit with that child livin' there. But after while, I just couldn't see makin' a choice between losin' you and doin' what was right for her. So I told myself I wouldn't be doin' it that long.
I told myself it was only 'til we took our money and got out. I lied to myself.
“I guess the craziest thing about it is, I was startin' to come around. I was gon' talk to Kenya before she left out on Friday. I was gon' tell her I was sorry for the way I was treatin' her and ask if we could start all over again. But I ain't get a chance to do that.
“By the time Kenya came back home that night, I had forgot all about it. I seen that first o' the month money rollin' in and I was back to that same old Judy. Kenya was in the way o' me gettin' my money, so I sent her to the store. By the time I looked up, she was gone. And so was you.”
Judy reached out hesitantly and grabbed Sonny's hand, folding it gently in both of hers.
“But lemme tell you somethin', Sonny. And I want you to hear me real good. Much as Kenya was in the way, much as I thought she was comin' between us, much as I blamed her for everything that was goin' wrong, I would never do nothin' to hurt that child. I loved hear, sure as I'm sittin' here. I guess, deep down, I had lost so much, I was scared I was gon' lose her, too. So I tried not to love too hard so it wouldn't hurt to lose her.”
She let go of his hand, and her eyes took on a faraway look.
“But you know what, Sonny?” she said, her voice cracking. “It ain't work. It's still tearin' me up inside that Kenya gone. It's tearin' me up, Sonny, and I don't know how to make it stop hurtin'.”
She leaned against him then, shivering with the pain of it all.
“Make it stop hurtin', Sonny,” she said. “Please make it stop.”
Sonny reached out and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her into his chest until her lips were against him. He held her there, the smell of her hair filling his nostrils until he pulled it back from her neck.
He kissed the soft skin there once, then twice, then licked it with his tongue. She reached down and squeezed until he stiffened beneath her touch.
He pulled her shirt down past her shoulders and let his tongue trail over her breasts, stopping and lingering at her nipples before gliding farther down.
She lay back, reveling in the feel of his lips skipping down the skin of her stomach, then brushing against her secret places until her moisture filled his mouth.
She worked her fingers into his thick hair and pushed until his face was buried there. Then she pulled his lips up to her mouth so she could taste it for herself.
Their tongues danced one around the other. Their bodies moved closer together. And when each part of them had touched, she lay back, opening herself even wider.
As he climbed inside her, the dance moved from their mouths, down their arms, into their hands and fingertips. They touched, gently at first, and then with a rhythm that grew faster with each stroke.
She wrapped her legs and arms around him. Sweat dripped from his chin into the hollow of her neck.
They gave themselves to one another, forever it seemed, in fear and in passion and in forgiveness. And as her moans turned to squeals, and then to screams, she buried her face in his chest as her passion poured out in liquid waves.
He met each wave with a stream of his own. And then they both lay spent, trying not to think of what the next moment would bring.
 
 
 
As he walked out of Lily's apartment, Lynch was angry. The sympathy he'd felt for Daneen had been swept away by Janay's sordid tales of Kenya's life.
The hard truths he'd heard spun through his mind like trash in a swirling city wind, giving new fuel to his hatred for Daneen.
Standing in the hall, watching his eyes move from sadness to disgust
as he looked at her, Daneen tried to meet his gaze. But she couldn't, because somewhere inside, she knew that he was right to hate her.
Still, Daneen was well aware that it was no longer about her. It was about her daughter. And if the past was the barrier that stood between her and the man who could help to find Kenya, then the past had to be dealt with.
If it was up to Lynch, however, the past would stay firmly in its place.
“Excuse me,” he said. and tried to walk past her.
She stood in his path. “We need to talk, Kevin.”
“The only thing you can talk to me about is where this—”
He flipped through his notes until he'd found her name.
“Where this girl Tyreeka lives.”
“She on the tenth floor. Apartment IOF. Why?”
“Look, you asked me to help you find your daughter, and I'm doing that. That's why I'm looking for Tyreeka. Seems she might be the last one who saw Kenya alive.”
He stopped and looked her up and down. “But you wouldn't know that, would you? Because you're not around enough to know what Kenya. does from day to day.”
“You think I want it like that?” Daneen said sharply. “It ain't a day when I don't wonder where my baby at, what she doin', and who she with. It ain't a night that I don't pray and ask God to protect her.”
“You should've been here to protect her yourself,” Lynch snapped.
“Maybe then she wouldn't have had to spend her nights wishing she lived with some other family.”
Daneen fell silent. Lynch knew he'd hurt her, and he was anxious to do so again.
“You didn't know that, did you, Daneen? You didn't know your daughter was telling people that she wished for another family. I guess you were too busy smoking crack to pay attention.”
Daneen could feel anger rising in her throat. But she knew this wasn't the time for that.
“We gotta talk, Kevin. Right now.”
He stared at her and said nothing.
“Okay,” she said. “If you won't talk, then I will. I know you hate me, Kevin. And I'm sorry you feel that way. But what happened between me and Tyrone was a long time ago. I was different then, whether you believe that or not. I was young and dumb, and I thought I had all the answers. Thought I could get whatever I wanted from any man I wanted to get it from. I guess I got that from Judy.
“I shoulda knew better than that, though. If I woulda really paid attention, I woulda seen that Judy wasn't gettin' much o' nothin', 'cause she was still right here in the Bridge with me.”
“I don't have time for this, Daneen,” Lynch said, pushing past her and making his way to the elevator.
She followed him, talking all the while.
“I thought I had me a basketball star,” she said. “Thought Tyrone was gon' make some money, and I was goin' along for the ride.”
Lynch jabbed the button for the elevator as Daneen spoke, trying his best to ignore her.
“I used him, Kevin. You knew it, and you tried to tell him, but he ain't wanna listen, so I used him some more. I gave him what he wanted, just how he wanted it, and he was happy with that. I was happy, too, I guess, 'cause I swore it was gon' pay off down the line. But then he got hurt, and all that was over.
“I saw all the things I wanted fallin' apart. Saw myself livin' in the Bridge and never findin' another way out.”
Lynch jabbed the button again as his jaw set in a hard, angry line. When the elevator didn't come, he turned to her with years of built-up rage in his eyes.
“Is that all people are to you, Daneen? A way to get what you
want? I always suspected you wasn't shit, but you just confirmed it for me. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a little girl to find.”
He walked quickly to the end of the hall.
“No, I won't excuse you,” she said, following him up the steps. “You still holdin' on to somethin' that happened ten years ago, Kevin. It already done ate my life up. Don't let it eat yours up, too.”

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