Imani All Mine Page 17

  I should’ve prayed to you then, Jesus. I don’t know if he started praying to hisself. I started shaking. More and more. I ain’t really feel cold. But I couldn’t stop shaking, and he started looking around like my shaking was making him nervous. He kneeled down right by the open door of the car and took both my hands in his. I kept right on shaking. He ain’t let go until the ambulance come screaming up the street, and he went away.

  All the attendants ran inside and a white man who I think say he was a detective come over to talk to me. I was looking up at Mama window. At all the people inside. Moving around like shadows. The detective say he just want to ask me some questions. What I seen. Who I think could’ve done the shooting and why. Did I know anybody who owned a dark Trooper. Mama was standing by the car. She had on clothes I never seen before. I guess somebody give them to her to wear. Mama looked over at the crowd. Then she wasn’t there. I heard somebody scream. Hey, hey! Stop her! I tried to get up. The detective told me to sit down.

  A cop tried to grab Mama. Mama was too quick. She seen what I seen. Miss Odetta. Mama flew up in the air and landed on top of Miss Odetta. They fell in the grass, and Mama got in some punches and kicks before a cop pulled her off. Still screaming. Still kicking. I’ll kill you! Mama screamed. You goddamn bitch. It was you. Your son. Ya’ll did this.

  Miss Odetta say, Ya’ll heard her threaten me. Ya’ll heard her. I ain’t done nothing. My child ain’t done nothing. I’m pressing charges. Arrest her. Arrest her! She crazy, Miss Odetta was shrieking.

  The cop who had been talking to me put Mama in the back of the car with me. He say, I know you’re upset, but we can’t have this. This isn’t helping the situation. You’re upset. I don’t want to cuff you and take you in. Quiet tears was coming down Mama face.

  The cop say, You’ve got to stay in control. For Imani.

  Mama nodded. She say, But you just don’t understand. You don’t understand that’s my baby up there.

  I reached my hand out to Mama and she held it. Tight.

  The detective was still standing outside the car. Mama leaned over me and say, I already told you they was shooting for that nigger next door. June Bug. Everybody know. He stay on the west side. That bitch Odetta ain’t going to tell you. But everybody know. Listen to me, Mama say. Find him.

  The detective told Mama he had already heard her. He want to know what I had to say.

  I ain’t say nothing. I closed my eyes. Hoping to find that dark space again. Slip into that empty space where there wasn’t room enough even for time. When I come back, Mama was hollering my name. The detective was gone and one of them ambulance attendants come to look at my foot. It ain’t hurt. It was still bleeding, though, and the attendant say it wasn’t bad, but I needed stitches. He ask whose child Imani was, and I say mine. He say, She’s alive, and they’re preparing to bring her out any minute. He say no family was riding with her to the hospital. We could stand behind the police tape if we want to see her come out.

  Mama grabbed my hand. Decided for me. I let her and that cop who’d been with me come back to my side and help me stand up. While the space of night around us lit up like the day. Not just one sun, but three rose over our heads. Lights on television cameras. Pointing right at us. I don’t know when they come. But I put my head down. Just that quick, they carried Imani past us strapped on a stretcher. She went by so fast. Surrounded by so many people, I couldn’t even see her.

  Me and Mama went right behind her in a cop car. Racing to ECMC. Sirens going. Lights flashing. The big dark cop was driving, while me and Mama sat in the back. I looked over at Mama but turned my face away. I ain’t want to see the wildness of her face no more. The fear that had her rocking on the seat next to me. Folding and unfolding her hands like they was going in and out of prayer. I watched out the window. Looking past my own face at the ambulance speeding ahead of us.

  They took Imani right into emergency and took me to get my foot stitched up. This young black woman did it. She gave me a shot. She smiled, but she ain’t say much to me. I don’t know if somebody told her. About Imani. So she wouldn’t be making no small talk. Asking how I cut my foot. Telling me the shot wasn’t going to hurt one bit. Letting me know how many stitches she was putting in. She just worked, and when she finished, she told me to not put pressure on my heel and to shower with it in a plastic bag for the next two days.

  Then she let me go to Mama, who was sitting in the waiting room. So was Mitch. I don’t know when Mama called him. He had his work uniform on and he wiped his tears away when he seen me, rushed right up to me, and pulled me tight to him. He kept saying over and over, I’m so sorry, darling. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.

  I sat down next to Mama. Mama was steady rocking. Mitch sat still. His face red red. His eyes swollen. Mama was talking soft to him. Saying, Imani going to make it. My baby going to be all right. Mitch ain’t say nothing. He was praying. Steady praying with his hands pressed together. His lips moving. While I listened to the fluorescent lights hum and watched the hands of the waiting room clock sail slow around its face.

  Almost a hour went by before a nurse come and ask us to come with her. Mama jumped right straight up out her chair. How’s Imani? Mama ask.

  The nurse say, The doctor will talk to you.

  Mama started moaning. She knew. I think we all knew. The nurse put us in a small room with no windows. It was cold in there.

  When this short, white doctor come in to talk to us with his hands balled up in his pockets and his eyes on the floor, he really ain’t have to say what he say. He sat down right next to me and say, We did all we could.

  Mama moaned even louder, and tears come down her face. All of a sudden it seemed like Mama nerves took hold of her. They took over her hands. Her hands started fluttering out in front of her like they was trying to fly away from her body, and Mama fell back in her chair. Hollering. Mitch grabbed hold of her. But Mama fought against him. Her hands beating him. The doctor looked at the floor. I stared at him hard, so hard I think it made him look up. He looked like he want to leave. But he sat there until Mama calmed down. She was still moaning. Still crying. I wasn’t crying. Because I already knew. Mama was the one who was hoping. The one who had prayers in her hands, even though she has never said she did. Mitch had both of his arms wrapped around Mama. Holding her hands close to her body.

  The doctor say, Imani didn’t suffer. You should know that. If you’d like to see her. To have some private time. You can. But I’ll caution you, you might not want to see her in the condition she’s in. I’ll leave it up to you. He got up and left.

  Mitch say, I’ll go see Imani, and I’ll decide if you should see her.

  Mama started fighting against him again. She say, I’m going to see my baby! You ain’t deciding a goddamn thing for nobody. Mitch let Mama go. She jumped up and say, I’m the one doing the deciding.

  I say. Soft. Mitch can decide for me.

  Mama looked at me. Like I’d slapped her. She ain’t say nothing.

  Mitch say Mama could go first while he waited with me.

  Mama say, No, you go on. Tasha say she want you to go for her, so, damn it, go.

  Mitch just say, All right. And he left the room. Mama moved next to me and I held her hands. They was cold. Empty of prayers.

  When Mitch come back, I knew I ain’t want to see Imani. I seen him shift me from the center of his eyes. Hold me off to the side. He ain’t say nothing. If he’d opened his mouth, I think he would’ve cried. Mama seen how he looked, but she went to see Imani anyway while I sat with Mitch and he put his arms around me. Like a daddy. Even though I’m past having a daddy.

  Later that night when we went out to Mitch house, and I was laying on the couch, I heard Mama tell Mitch she wish she hadn’t seen Imani. They was sitting in the kitchen, talking quiet. She ain’t say why she wished it. But I knew.

  I listened to the two of them crying all night. Talking all night. They voices flashing in and out. Close to me. Hanging low in the dark like fireflies
. Then far far away. Like starlight. I couldn’t cry like them. Hard. Deep down to my bones. Only regular tears come from me. Soft. Tears not at all crazy. But sane, and running down my face onto my neck. Tickling my neck the way Peanut lashes do. They only come when I think about Imani being alone. Not nowhere with Jesus. Not halfway from here to heaven. But alone. All by herself in the bottom on the night.

  I ain’t even think I’d slept until the next morning, when I heard Aunt Mavis nem coming in the door. I’d been in that timeless space again that ain’t seem at all like sleep. I opened my eyes, and it was bright. Aunt Mavis held on to me for too long. I had to let her go, because I could feel her heart beating all fast against me. Racing. If I had stayed pressed up against her, I ain’t know where it would’ve took me.

  I went out the back and sat on the deck. Junior come right behind me. He had on sunglasses, early as it was, and he kept shaking his head. It’s messed up. The whole thing is messed up, he keep saying. He was sipping on a pop. My mouth was dry, and I ask him for a sip. He say, Ain’t hardly none left.

  I snatched the bottle from him. Don’t be stingy, I say. I took a big swallow and spit it out.

  Junior say, Look at you. Wasting my stuff.

  I say, What is this?

  He say, You know what it is.

  I ain’t. It was some liquor, I knew that much.

  He say, It take the edge off. I got more if you need it.

  I ain’t say nothing.

  He say, You might before everything is over.

  Shoot, I need it now, Junior say.

  Frankie come out the house. He had a pop, too. I ask for a sip. He wiped off the top on his shirt and handed it right to me. It was warm and all pop. He sat down right up under me on the next step. Where’s Imani? he ask.

  Junior say, Shut up, you big head. Why you got to go ask something like that?

  Frankie say, Because I want to know.

  Junior say, Daddy told you don’t be asking a bunch of questions.

  I say, It’s all right. She still in the hospital.

  Frankie say, Mama say she in heaven. How can she be in the hospital and in heaven at the same time?

  I say, I don’t know.

  Frankie ask, How long do it take to get to heaven? Can you get all the way up there quick? He lay his head back in my lap and pointed up at the sky. His mouth was filling with big teeth now. Square and white, with spaces in between. Two still missing on the sides.

  Junior took a drink and say, Maybe Superman took her.

  Frankie say, Don’t you say that. You being stupid. Superman don’t take people to heaven. I kissed Frankie on the top of his head. I don’t know why. But I did, and he ain’t wipe it off. He say, Imani got her own wings to fly. She a angel. For real.

  It was after noon before we all got showered and dressed. I ain’t have no shoes. No clothes but the sweats I wearing. They had dirt on them. Blood on them. On the pants. Brown. I don’t know if it was my blood or Imani blood. Junior let me wear some of his sweats and a pair of his sneakers. The sneakers was big on me, which was good, because my foot was hurting some. I didn’t cover it in the shower and it was throbbing pain up my leg. Every time my heart beat, I felt another pulse.

  All morning long Mama nem had been making phone calls. They was all set to leave me and the boys at Mitch house, because Uncle Willis say they had to make arrangements. I say I want to go and so did the boys.

  Mama ask, You sure you want to go back to the house?

  I say I was, and all them looked at me. Out the corner of they eyes. But in two cars, we went. I rode with Aunt Mavis nem. Mitch with Mama.

  As we drove down our street, I looked out the car window and seen heads turning. Like they was waiting for us. The little boy who’d throwed that water in my face the night before seen us and raced us to the house, still circled in police tape. And out in front of our house was something that made us all take a breath.

  On the sidewalk was a memorial. People had come and put stuffed animals and flowers and cards and even some balloons tied to a light pole.

  Frankie ask, What’s all this stuff for? Ain’t nobody answer him.

  Seeing all them things made it easier for me to get out the car. I was thinking Imani will like this. It was so pretty. Like a party.

  The little boy who was racing us come up to me. He say, Peanut looking for you. He say for me to tell you.

  Frankie say, Imani my cousin. And the boy took off running again.

  Mama nem was looking through all the things, and I started looking, too. All of the stuffed animals was new except this one. A teddy bear that was all nubby and dirty. It had a card tied around its neck with a ribbon. I opened it. It was a sympathy card somebody had wrote. You don’t know us or our daughter Jennifer, but this is her favorite bear. She wanted Imani to have it.

  There was money in the card, and Mama took it from my hand. She started collecting all the cards and piling the toys in Frankie arms. But I ask Frankie to leave the toys there. Mama say for me to suit myself, but they might get stole.

  Frankie ask, Can I put a toy here for Imani?

  I told him he could and he dropped the animals and went to the car. Everybody else went in, and I waited for Frankie to come back with a plastic Superman that looked like it was flying. He got down on his knees, arranged all the animals in two neat rows, and put his Superman right in the front. So Imani can see it, he say.

  We ducked under the police tape, and soon as we got in the house, the phone was ringing. Mama answered it and I went to change into my own clothes. The door to Mama room was open. I ain’t go in, but I peeked. Newspaper was down on the floor where Imani fell. Wet and dark with big brown stains and traces of orange and yellow seeping through. I felt like I’d throw up, and I wanted to leave not just our house but the whole world. I don’t know why I thought the room would be cleaned.

  Frankie grabbed hold of my hand. You OK, Tasha? You want for me to get Mama? I told him no and he led me like I was some child into my room. He sat with me while I changed and maybe I should’ve been shamed in front of him, but I wasn’t. I was glad he was there. Watching over me. I even changed my drawers while he sat on the bed holding one of Imani dolls. The phone rang again, and I heard a bunch of feet on the stairs.

  Junior knocked and pushed the door right open, without asking if he could come in. Peanut, Eboni, Kente, and Coco was all with him. They all hugged me tight. Crying. Frankie punched on the radio and somebody was rapping about the thug life while Junior was steady sipping. Steady taking the edge off hisself.

  Uncle Willis come up and say he needed some help, and all the boys went off with him. Even Frankie. Eboni say there was plenty of food if I want to eat. Miss Lovey had cooked all night. She’d seen Imani on the news. Seen me and Mama, and they been calling and calling and calling the house. Miss Lovey couldn’t sleep, and Eboni say she stayed up with her. They made macaroni and cheese. Buffalo wings. Fried chicken. Tuna and macaroni salad. A pound cake and a jelly cake.

  Eboni say her and Coco came over first thing in the morning with the food, hoping me and Mama was back, and when wasn’t nobody home, they went to Peanut house. Coco say, Peanut ain’t even know. He was on his way to school, and she and Eboni told him. He stayed home. Eboni say I should eat. Coco say I should eat. They would make me a plate. Coco say she would get it. My mouth should’ve been watering for Miss Lovey food. But it wasn’t. I ate. I could’ve even ate the plate without knowing it.

  We all spent the rest of the day with the radio playing soft out in the backyard inside the shade of the trees with they hands still like babies. Eboni jumped up to turn it off the first time the news come on and they talked about Imani. I told her to leave it. They say it was a senseless tragedy and they ain’t have no leads in the drive-by shooting. It ain’t last but a few seconds no way. Then they talked about the weather.

  Uncle Willis and Mitch and the boys was working hard in the house. They got a carpet cleaner. Replaced windows and screens. They even did laund
ry. Scrubbed the kitchen. Cleaned the bathroom. While the phone kept ringing and from time to time Frankie come to us to rest for a few minutes and tell us what was going on. There was more toys out front, and he was keeping them straight. People was bringing food and more food. They was running out of places to put it all.

  He say, I had Buffalo wings and two kinds of cake. Later, he say there’s a moving truck next door pulled right up to the porch. He looked all excited in a strange kind of way when he told us the news cameras had been out front. Eboni and Coco raced to see them. But Frankie say they was gone. He say Uncle Willis told the reporters they couldn’t talk to me, and I was glad he decided. I ain’t want to be on the news. Frankie say, Daddy let them see Imani picture.

  Which one? I ask.

  She got on a purple dress, Frankie say.

  Mama and Aunt Mavis was gone almost all day. When they got back, they come out to the backyard. They faces was pinched shut like they was holding in more than they was telling. Peanut was sitting next to me on the stoop, with Frankie sitting right up under me. I thought Frankie was going to sit in Aunt Mavis lap when she come, but he was shamed to on account of the big boys, so he sat next to her. Junior sat way off on a lawn chair almost at the side of the house. He was way past drunk, I know. Still sitting with sunglasses on and drinking from a pop bottle. Eboni and Coco fixed plates for Mama and Aunt Mavis, and they picked and talked.

  Mama say they had been to the welfare. But the welfare ain’t give enough money to bury somebody in a cardboard box, let alone a casket.

  Aunt Mavis say, I told you me and Willis will take care of things.

  Mitch say, Me too, Earlene. Darling, don’t worry about the money. Everything is going to be taken care of.

  Mama and Aunt Mavis had also been to a funeral home. Paterson Brothers. Imani not ready to be released to the funeral home for one more day. When Mama told me that, I went on upstairs.