Two Tears in a Bucket (20 page)

“
Simone, you gotta get yourself together. Laying in the bed crying is not gonna get Jordan back. I know you not on no damn drugs, just like your momma know. Get yourself together and get your baby back. Find you another job, something you would want to stick with. Become successful, baby girl, and get your got damn baby back from your crazy ass momma. You bigger and better than any rumor she can start. Show your momma and everybody else. Don’t let her win!”

“
But all the attorneys…”

“
I don’t give a got-damn about them attorneys. Listen to what I’m telling you. You get yourself together. Get another job, get you a place and become successful. A judge will give you back your daughter.”

Chapter Seventeen

November 1989

Kevin took a detour through the courtyard on his way back to his cell. Dale rushed over to him, nearly knocking him down.

“
Hey, Kevin, man,” Dale panted, fighting to catch his breath. “He over there. You want Kong to handle his ass?”

Kevin knew just who he was referring to—his fake-ass buddy, James. He scanned the crowded courtyard searching for him.

“
Naw,” Kevin said. “I got that. Where the fuck he at?”

Dale pointed toward the basketball court. “Over there.”

With fire in his eyes and revenge in his heart, Kevin headed to the basketball court, ready to add to his prison sentence.

“
Ah! What’s up, Kevin, man!” James hollered out as Kevin stormed in his direction. “Come on over here and help me whip these bammas!”

James knelt down to ties his shoes, dropping the basketball at his feet. Kevin slowed his pace as a shadow larger than his own fell over James.

James stood just in time to connect with the twenty-five pound dumbbell being swung at his head. The forceful impact split his skull. Blood splattered on Kevin’s socks and shoes as he watched James fall to the asphalt, dead, with his eyes wide open. A wad of spit landed on James’s face, mixing with the blood.

“
That’s for Toby, nigga,” the unknown man said in his Jamaican accent.

As the alarm rang out, Kevin locked eyes with the strange Jamaican standing before him.

“
We ain’t got no beef with you,” the Jamaican said.

Yeah, whatever,
Kevin said to himself.
I’m watching your muthafuckin’ ass anyway.

Kevin sat in his cell with James’s blood all over his legs.

“
SHOWER!” the guard yelled.

When the iron gates popped open, Kevin and a handful of the other inmates headed for the shower.

“
Damn, man,” Dale said, catching up with Kevin. “Can you believe that shit? Your boy got clocked right in his fuckin’ head. Man, that shit was something.”

Kevin had no words. A part of him wished he’d swung the weights. The person he’d once considered his closest confidant next to Fat Ed had destroyed his whole life. Just the thought pissed Kevin off all over again.

My muthafuckin’ friend.
Deep in thought, Kevin closed his eyes and allowed the shower water to run down his head.

Dale tapped Kevin on the arm.

“
What!” Kevin snapped.

“
Shit, man,” Dale whispered. “One of the booty bandits looking at you and jerkin’ his shit, Kevin. Look.”

Kevin looked toward the end of the shower. A huge white guy covered in tattoos stared back at him. Licking his pale pink lips, he stroked his penis and blew Kevin a kiss.

The devil himself took over Kevin as he rushed to the other end of the shower. Blood splashed all over the dingy white tiles as Kevin took his frustrations out on the booty bandit. The inmates’ cheers echoed throughout the shower, alarming the guards and setting off the sirens for the second time in an hour.

A few of the inmates pulled Kevin off the guy, who lay drenched in his own blood on the floor of the shower. Ending the confrontation saved Kevin from an old-fashioned prison guard beat-down, but it didn’t save him from the sixty days he’d have to serve in the black hole, isolated from the rest of the prison population.

● ● ●

Kevin’s nightmares tracked him down yet again. The screams and cries were louder than usual as he ran through the dark forest. The trees had come to life, dripping with blood. Kevin ran, ducking and dodging the branches as they reached out to grab him. Something was chasing him, and today it was faster than ever. He sprinted toward the light.

“
Run, Kevin,” he heard a male’s voice encourage. A hand appeared through the light, reaching out to him. Whatever was chasing him was on his heels. Without a second thought, Kevin reached for the hand and was yanked into an area so bright that it nearly blinded him. He threw up his arms, covering his eyes. Slowly, the light began to soften. Kevin lowered his arms and gasped as he came face-to-face with Mr. Johnson.

“
No, Kevin.” Mr. Johnson smiled, reading the panic on his face.

“
Am I dead?” Kevin asked anyway.

Mr. Johnson raised an eyebrow. “Kevin, you know good and well that if you died today, you and I probably wouldn’t be in the same place.”

A train of tears poured from Kevin’s eyes as he stared at Mr. Johnson and his heavenly glow. “Mr. Johnson, I’m sorry,” he cried, dropping to his knees. “You know I didn’t mean to kill you. I would never, ever do anything to harm you. I loved you like a father.”

“
I know that, son. I know that,” Mr. Johnson said. “But, Kevin…would you have killed Toby? What about James or the guy you nearly beat to death in the shower?”

Kevin was so caught up in his emotions that he couldn’t respond. He sat on the ground and bawled. Mr. Johnson lowered himself to the ground and patted Kevin on the back in an attempt at comfort.

“
I’m sorry, Mr. Johnson,” Kevin cried. “I’m sorry. I didn’t go to—”

“
Kevin, Kevin…It was an accident, son. I know,” Mr. Johnson interrupted. “Do you remember our talks at the nursing home?”

Engulfed in his emotions, Kevin could only answer with a nod of his head.

“
I told you I was gonna be watching you, and God has allowed me to do so. That’s why you didn’t get to James. I wish I could’ve prevented his death altogether, but I could only help you. The only reason I didn’t stop the fight in the shower was because you needed this time to be alone, to think about what it is you’re going to do with your life.”

Mr. Johnson helped Kevin stand to his feet. “I don’t know any pain now, son. But don’t let my death be in vain. I’ve seen your future.” He lifted Kevin’s head with his fingers and smiled with a raised brow. “But the only way you can have it is if you get yourself together. If you’re really, really sorry, you’ll do it for me.”

“
I’m sorry, Mr. Johnson. I am,” Kevin cried.

“
Then get it together, my son. And remember,” Mr. Johnson said as his image faded, “I’m watching you.”

The sun’s rays beamed through the window of his small cell in solitary confinement. Kevin sprang up in bed and sighed. It had all been a dream.
I’m going to get myself together, Mr. Johnson.

A few weeks into his confinement, Kevin got a letter from his mother. The first sentence stole his breath. Beatrice had signed over custody on his behalf to Angela.

“
Ah, Ma,” Kevin said. “You
didn’t
sign for me!”

● ● ●

Sixty days to the date he was put in the hole, Kevin was released back into the prison population with the promises he’d made to Mr. Johnson tattooed on the brain. But before he executed anything, he had to call Angela. He hunted through her letters until he found her number, and went to the phone. He dialed Angela’s number, but the call, for some odd reason, didn’t go through.

Damn, what’s going on?
Kevin wondered. He called his mother.

“
Hey, boy!” Beatrice greeted. “You outta the hole?”

“
Yeah, I got out today.”

“
You got my letter, right?”

“
Yeah, I got it. Did you ever talk to Simone?”

“
There was no need to. I saw her for myself. Don’t worry, though. Your baby’s in good hands now, and I’m still planning on getting her on the weekends as soon as they hire some more nurses.”

“
Yeah, I just wish I was home. I’m telling you, the stuff y’all saying don’t sound like Simone at all.”

“
Kevin,” Beatrice said, “I saw her for myself.”

“
Listen, though,” Kevin said, ready to change the subject. “I just called over to Angela’s, and the call didn’t go through. It was like her number was disconnected or something. Have you talked to her?”

“
Boy, I’ve been working like crazy. I haven’t had a chance to do anything in the last three weeks.” Beatrice yawned into the phone. “I’ll call over there later on and check on things for you. I love you, boy, and behave yourself.”

Kevin called Fat Ed. Later wasn’t going to work for him. Something wasn’t right, and he knew it.

“
What’s up, nigga!” Fat Ed screamed into the phone. “You straight, man?”

“
Yeah, man, I’m good. Thanks for looking out for me, too.”

“
Yeah, man. I got your letter. Who the hell you in there paying to write for you?” Fat Ed chuckled through the phone.

“
Nobody. Shit, why everybody think I’m some dummy?”

“
Naw, man, I ain’t say you was no dummy, but ain’t no way in hell you wrote that got damn letter! Man, I couldn’t believe that shit about James. Damn, and that shit happened right in front of you?”

“
What’s up? You short on dough already?”

“
Oh, naw, I’m straight on money. I need you to ride by Simone’s mother’s to check on Jordan. She got custody of my daughter.”

“
Yeah, man. I met Simone’s brother, Stan, a while back. Me and him partnered up, tryna do some things. That nigga into music like shit. We ’bout to open a recording studio.”

“
Yeah,” Kevin said, uninterested, “but listen. I been trying to call and check on Jordan, but the phone is disconnected or something. Do me a favor. Ride past there and check that out for me. Or call Simone’s brother and make sure everything’s okay.”

“
I’ll ride past, man, and check it out. But I don’t wanna be asking Stan no whole bunch of questions.”

“
That’s cool. When can you do that for me?”

“
Shit, man. They don’t live but a few minutes away. Call me back in an hour. I’ll swing past there now.”

Shit, why the hell did I give up smoking?
Kevin thought as he paced back and forth in the recreation hall. He couldn’t wait a whole hour. He called his mother again.

“
I’m sorry, Ma. I had to call you. Did you call over there?”

“
Yeah, and the number’s disconnected.”

“
Shit! Something ain’t right. I called Fat Ed and he’s gon’ ride past there for me.”

“
Why you so nervous? Everything’s cool. If Angela changed her number, I’m sure she’ll call and give it to me. Then I’ll give it to you. Stop stressing over nothing. Now go make some license plates or something,” Beatrice joked before hanging up.

“
Kennard!” the guard yelled out. “You had some mail returned. I put it on your cot.”

Kevin headed to his cell. Two letters he’d written to Angela while he was in confinement lay on his cot marked ‘Unable to Forward.’

Unable to forward?
Kevin knew the address was right.

An hour hadn’t passed, but he called Fat Ed back anyway.

“
Hey, man,” Kevin said. “So what happened?”

“
The house looked empty, man. And there was a ‘For Sale’ sign in the yard. They must’ve moved.”

“
Get the fuck outta here,” Kevin said.

“
Yeah, man. What’s wrong wit’ that, though? She got your baby, so I’m sure she’ll send you something in the mail. She got
your
address, right? Stop trippin’.”

Chapter Eighteen

January 1990

Simone couldn’t bring herself to call Angela no matter how many times Thomas suggested it. Hearing Jordan in the background would only dig the dagger further into her heart. She hated her life, but she had to find the strength to fight back. Thomas bought her a used car, and she found employment through a temporary agency. Still, neither revived the part of her that she felt had died.

“
Simone!” Thomas yelled. “Your grandmother’s on the phone!”

Nana?
She hadn’t talked to Nana in months.
How’d she get this number?

“
You know, I should come over there and beat your tail!” Nana said. “Why haven’t you called me? Thank the Lord, Stan dropped by yesterday.”

“
I’m sorry, Nana.”

“
Don’t be sorry, Simone,” Nana said softly. “I’ve been praying for you. Every single night. I can’t tell you how many conversations I’ve had with your momma, telling her to give you back your baby.”

“
She got people thinking I’m on drugs, Nana, and I swear I’ve never, ever—”