Transcontinental (50 page)

Rehema threw her hands up to protect herself. Leroy watched as the bat bounced off her forearm with a sharp
crack.
Rehema’s arm went limp halfway between her elbow and wrist as the room flooded with her screams.

Leroy busted in through the door and tackled a confused Jordan to the ground, then ripped the bat from his hands. As he stood, the bat raised and ready to swing, he saw the same look in Jordan’s eyes that he’d seen in Rehema’s moments before, in Clayvon’s as he clutched his bleeding foot, in Ant’s as he laid helpless on the train track.

As angry as he was, he wouldn’t be any better than Noah or Jordan if he acted on it. Leroy let his arms down as Jordan whimpered on the ground.

“What are you waiting for?
Hit
him!” Rehema seethed from the bed, teeth gritted and right hand squeezing her left forearm in place.

Well, if she insisted.

He chopped the bat down onto Jordan’s knee and felt it give way. Jordan writhed on the ground, kicking and screaming.

“Do it again! The bastard deserves worse!” Rehema yelled hoarsely.

Leroy positioned the bat above Jordan’s other leg. “Get out!”

“You busted my knee! How—”

“GET OUT!” he bellowed, gripping the bat.

“A’ight, just hold up,” Jordan cried as he crawled to the door, then got a hold of a desk and used his good leg to get to his feet. He looked back.

“Go!” Leroy charged him, ready to hit a home run.

Jordan groaned as he scrambled out of the room, with Leroy stalking from behind, bat in the air to keep the pressure on. As they reached the front door, Jordan looked back at Leroy with a sneer that could turn Medusa to stone.

“You wrecked my life in a day, motherfucker.”

“Happy to help. Don’t come back.”

“How you gonna stop me?”

“If I can’t, the cops will. They’re on their way,” he bluffed.

Jordan didn’t react. “Lay low a few days. Gotcha.”

“How about this? I see you here again, I’ll let Rehema take care of you.”

The sneer faded.

“She seemed much more eager than me to hurt you. Should be fun.”

Jordan snarled before slinking through the door.

Leroy closed and locked it, still clutching the bat. Looking down at it, he remembered Rehema’s arm, and sprinted back to her room. It was empty.

His mind raced. Did she leave without him? Had Jordan brought an accomplice? Leroy’s temples pounded under the gravity of the situation.

Then, he noticed the light under the bathroom door.

Rehema emerged from the bathroom in a respectable dress, her hair done and her arm in a makeshift sling. “Ready to go?” she asked, calm as can be.

“Where?” he asked, before figuring it out. “I’ll get my shoes.”
 

* * *

Rehema amazed Leroy. Here she was, one arm broken in a disastrous fight with her significant other, yet she was relaxed, well-dressed, and driving herself to the hospital. He had no idea how she did it, but he wanted to know.

She used her right arm to turn the wheel.

“Good thing I don’t drive manual anymore.”

As the car rounded a wide turn, Leroy realized he wasn’t sliding on the leather seats. He was stuck perfectly in place, right where he sat. He smiled.

“Well, Leroy, it’s just you and me, now.”

“You mean…”

“I do.”

In that moment, he felt a happiness he’d never known. There was no overhanging dread, no sheen of guilt or mist of depression; it was just happiness, pure and simple. For the second time in a day, tears left his eyes.

“There are some ground-rules to follow, though.”

“Anything.”

“First, school is your top priority. A good education is indispensable.”

He nodded. “Definitely.”

“Second, you have to deal with my awful cooking.”

Leroy laughed through his tears. “I can do that.”

“Third, you have to
talk
to me. We’ll never be on the same page if we can’t communicate. Look at what happened with Jordan and I. That’s the result.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“It might take time, but we’ll get there.”

Leroy basked in his glee until Rehema spoke up again.

“You know, your mother and I used to be inseparable. Then along came your father. He was a sweet man, but his temper burned that away in time. After a few years, I hardly recognized Ada.” She pursed her lips. “The night Roy came home drunk, and Baron tried to protect your mother… After what happened, I just left. I couldn’t take it anymore. And it’s torn me up ever since.”

Leroy stayed silent.

“After all the grief I gave your mother about the man she was marrying, I end up making a life with one cut from the same cloth.”

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure how to feel about what she’d said.

“I knew Jordan wasn’t a great man, but I didn’t know he was
that
low-down. I apologize for making you hurt him, honey. Violence is never the answer. But that man surely deserved what he got.”

“Yeah, he did.”

As they speed-walked to the emergency room after parking, Rehema said “Thank you, Leroy. For finding me. For being there for me. Without you, I’d be stuck in a life I didn’t want with a man who didn’t respect me.”

Leroy beamed, but tried not to show it.

They stepped through the automatic doors, picked up the paperwork from the receptionist, then sat down so Leroy could fill it out.

As he looked around, the room reminded him of the funeral home he’d visited his mother in, and for a moment he was uncomfortable. But Rehema was by his side this time, and she was alive. On the mend, but alive.

“I’ve never seen an ER so empty,” she remarked.

After Leroy turned in the paperwork, a nurse swept them down a few corridors and into a dark room. “Excuse me while I put this on you,” the nurse said as she slipped a lead vest over Rehema. “Now lay your palm flat on the table.” She turned to Leroy and said “You’ll want to wait outside.”

He exited the room with the nurse. She pushed a button on the wall, and a brief mechanical whir hummed in and out of existence.

“Now turn it sideways, on the outside of the forearm,” the nurse hollered.

“Done,” Rehema responded.

She pushed the button again, and the machine fired up.

“You’re all set,” the nurse said as she joined Rehema and removed the vest. “Just follow me and the doctor will see you.”

They were led to the office of a thin Indian man, lost in his medical gown. He took the manilla folder from the nurse. “Hello, I am Dr. Gupta. You are here for an amputation, correct?” He slipped on a latex glove.

“I absolutely am not!”

The doctor grinned. “Sorry. Medical humor. The surgeons love it.” He pulled the glove off, then opened the folder and examined the x-rays inside.

“Your paperwork says you fell down the stairs.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“I would like to remind you that anything you tell me is protected by doctor-patient confidentiality laws when you consider what I am about to say.”

Rehema looked at him sideways. “Go on.”

“Does the boy have your permission to be in the conversation?”

“He does.”

“I only bring it up because when an adult breaks a forearm, it is common for both bones to break due to the force required to break either one of them. And, the majority of the time I have treated patients with only the Ulna broken, it has been a direct result of them raising their hand in self-defense.”

The room filled with an awkward silence.

“Having said that… is there anything you would like to tell me?”

Rehema clutched her purse to her body.

“Any further actions or consequences are within your discretion.”

“You know, I’m glad you said something. I would’ve regretted keeping it inside,” Rehema said. “It’s a result of domestic violence.
However
, the perpetrator and I have parted ways for good. I don’t want to press charges, I don’t want to think about it anymore, I just want it to be over.”

Dr. Gupta nodded once. “Very well. Let’s get that arm in a cast.”

* * *

A few weeks out, Leroy could tell Rehema was getting frustrated with him. He hadn’t misbehaved, but he’d spent the majority of his time drawing in the guest room, which was being converted into a room of his own. He knew his isolation went against her communication ground-rule, but he was almost done, and it was a way to make that rule work, or so he hoped.

Other than the guilt he felt for temporarily neglecting Rehema, Leroy was happier than ever. She was everything he’d hoped she would be, and far more—fascinating, caring, intelligent, and a much better cook than she gave herself credit for. And her passion for her job, for life, was infectious. Being near her lifted his spirits.

It wasn’t all perfect, though.

Sometimes at night, Leroy could hear Rehema sobbing down the hall. He could tell she tried to keep quiet, but occasionally her pain took over.

It killed him to hear that. The love he already felt for her was powerful, but that made him feel guilty for other reasons. He’d always end up contrasting it with what he felt for his mother, which would bring him down. But he’d also come into a new appreciation of her. She was the woman who had birthed him, bathed him, clothed him, the woman who’d provided for him, the woman who’d made him who he was. He understood her and her pain on an entirely new level. To have your husband beat one of your own children to death… he couldn’t imagine. The knowledge of Baron’s existence and death settled like a deep ache into his bones.

He was occasionally haunted by the images of violence he’d witnessed: the construction worker’s crushed leg, Clayvon’s gushing foot, Ant’s face.

It was the thought of Ant that kept him up at night. Ant had done so much for him, and how did Leroy repay him? With a savage beating.

It tore him up. He hoped his friend was okay. For a moment, Leroy considered what it would take to find Ant, but quickly shelved the idea.

On a Friday evening, Leroy was putting the finishing touches on his final sketch when he heard Rehema arrive home from work. There were a few fixes he wanted to make, but he couldn’t wait any longer, and he certainly didn’t want to make
her
wait more.

Sketch book in hand, he barreled out of his room.

Rehema set her purse on the counter, then went to the fridge as Leroy clomped to a stop outside the kitchen. She pulled out a small package of crackers and frosting, ripped the plastic off, then dipped one and ate it.

“This is just what I needed. What a week. How are you, hun?”

“I’m ready.”

“You’re ready? Ready for what?”

“To tell you everything. You deserve to know. Sorry it took so long.”

Brow furrowed, Rehema dipped another cracker. “Okay. Just let me take my shoes off before you drop anything too heavy on me, alright?”

She changed and met Leroy on the couch, then turned off the TV.

“Now I’m ready, too. I ordered a pizza. It should be here soon.”

“Here.” Leroy handed her the sketchbook.

She grabbed the cover, then Leroy put a hand over it.

“Go slow. Some of it might be hard to get out.”

Her gaze was comforting as she opened to the first page.

It was a pencil drawing of Adalynne in her casket.

Rehema looked it over. “This is… good. A little dark.”

“Uh, so like you know, my mom killed herself.”

She put her hand on his leg. “I’m sorry.”

“I was lost, looking at her in the funeral home. I felt nothing. Then, out of nowhere, you popped into my head. Wasn’t much, just a blurry vision of your face. You were smiling. I knew I had to find you.”

Rehema bit her lip, her eyes glassy.

“Turn the page.”

She did, revealing a sketch of Ms. Stacey’s messy living room.

“That was my foster home, Ms. Stacey’s. I already told you about her a little. She wasn’t mean, she just didn’t really care about the kids.”

“How can they let a person like that host foster children?”

“Mr. Tom said they’ll take anyone they can get.”

Rehema turned to the next page. It was a point-of-view drawing of Woods pointing a gun at the viewer. “My goodness! This happened to you?”

Leroy nodded. “I told Ms. Stacey I was going to visit a friend before I ran away. Picked a random house and knocked, then got pulled inside. Next thing I knew, I had a gun pointed at my chest.”

“Lord almighty! How did you get away?”

“Once they realized it was an accident, they let me go.”

Leroy thumbed to the next image − a sketch of the first boxcar he’d ridden, with colored pencil swirls for the huge paper rolls it’d hauled.

“After they let me go, I found a train yard. A nice engineer let me ride in the back. It was the first train car I ever rode in. I loved and hated it.”