A Cold Piece of Work (35 page)

“So I slept in my clothes at Jasmine's house. The next morning we were outside doing something and I asked her a very important question. I said, ‘When is your dad going to beat your mom?'

“I thought it was the normal thing that happened in every household. She looked at me as if I were some kind of alien. ‘What? What are you talking about?' she said. And in that instant I knew what was going on at our house was not normal.

“Even though I was about nine at that time, I was able to quickly recover. I said, ‘I'm just playing. Let's go watch TV.' Jasmine said, ‘Okay,' and that was that. But I remember it so clearly.

“And that was the last time I had to sleep in my clothes and the next-to-last time we ran away to a hotel. My mom would try to make leaving home a fun escape. She'd be battered, but she kept a stash of money in our room so we could have hotel and food money if we had to run. So we'd go check into a hotel and spend a night or two there. She would take us to the Monument and the Smithsonian and other landmarks. We would eat half-smokes on the street and play Frisbee on the Mall. A few times she was too sore to actually play with us. She'd sit on a bench or on the grass and watch us. But all that activity was designed to make us forget about what had happened.

“By Sunday evening we were back and my dad was sober and remorseful. He'd cook dinner and we'd go on like everything was normal. But that weekend I was at Jasmine's house my mom had the concussion. She was pretty much fed up. And when I told her what I asked Jasmine, she said that was it. My brother came back from camp that Sunday. Next thing I knew, we were in a hotel for about three days and then we moved into an apartment.”

“Wow, Michele, that's a lot,” Solomon said. “I'm sorry you had to go through all that.”

“Well, I am too,” she said. “But it's really hard to say because the things that happen in our lives, our experiences, make us who we are. So, I don't know who I would be if things didn't happen as they did.

“I'm scarred by it, but I don't think I'm damaged by it. I don't think my brother or mom are damaged. We went through therapy together for a while and my mom's therapy continued for a few years, I think.

“We don't even talk about it much anymore. My mom was adamant about my brother not falling into the cycle of being abusive. And she was scared that I would be like her and accept abuse as a normal part of a relationship. That's what happens when you fall into that cycle.”

“I see now how me telling you I smacked a girl would freak you out,” Solomon said. “It makes sense now. But, just to reiterate, that's one of the biggest regrets of my life.”

“Thanks for saying that,” Michele said.

“So, what else do you have to tell me?” Solomon said. “You hold back stuff. And then when you come with it, it's earth-shattering.”

Michele laughed. “One more thing.”

“Oh, no. What now?” Solomon said, laughing. “You shot Kennedy? What?”

“I'm just kidding,” she said. “That's it. I've bared my soul to you. There's nothing else left to reveal.”

“You sure?” Solomon asked.

“Absolutely,” Michele answered.

“Okay, then,” he said. “How about some breakfast?”

“Solomon, it's like, four-thirty in the morning.”

“Exactly. Breakfast time.”

“Then do your thing,” she said. “Wake me up when it's done.”

Michele stretched across the couch and let out a sigh of relief. Solomon kissed her on the face and went to the bathroom to wash his hands.

“Sleep well, dear,” he said. “Pleasant dreams this time.”

S
olomon's and Michele's idyllic lives were interrupted by two elements of contrasting significance: the visit of his divorced parents and the court date for the carjacking. The two were tied together; the night of the carjacking was minutes after Michele told Solomon he was Gerald's father. Solomon's mom and dad flew in from D.C. to finally meet their only grandchild.

And it so happened that their planned day of arrival was the Wednesday evening before the start of the Thursday court date. Solomon's car had been found almost three months after it was taken; the carjackers, both nineteen years old, were in it when Atlanta police pulled them over.

“I don't even want to relive that night... Well, that part of that night,” Michele said. “That's the other nightmare I have sometimes, thinking about somebody with a gun to my head.”

“I know,” Solomon said. “It was so crazy. I remember it so well. It seemed like it was all in slow motion and then again it happened very quickly. Do you even want to go through a trial? I don't. I know it'll sound like I want to save the world, but I wonder if those kids are capable of being saved instead of being tossed into the prison system. We know what happens once they get there; nothing.”

There were few witnesses to be called by the prosecution; Solomon and Michele and the arresting officers. The case could not be more clear-cut.

Meanwhile, Solomon had not told his parents of the events of that night. When he learned they would be in town during the start of the trial, he was compelled to share. He thought it better to tell them over the phone so they would not have to deal with it while dealing with meeting Gerald.

“How could you just be telling me this, boy?” Mr. Singletary said. “I understand not telling your mother; she's overly emotional. But you should've told me right away.”

“My fault, Dad,” Solomon said. “You're right. I'm sorry. You ever have anything like that happen to you?”

“I got robbed before,” his father recalled. “I actually was in Chicago, hanging out with some friends a long time ago. I was at a liquor store on the Westside on my way to a party. When I came back out, two guys were waiting on me. Both of them had guns.

“I froze. Then I tried to talk them out of it.”

“What? That's exactly what I did,” Solomon said.

“Yeah, it was pure instinct,” his dad said. “They still robbed me, but I think I convinced them to just take my money and not my wallet.”

“Well, those guys acted like they wanted to shoot us, but I started talking and I think to just shut me up, they made us get out of the car,” Solomon said. “Anyway, let me call Ma and tell her now, so hopefully you both can be over it when y'all get here next week.”

“Oh, my God,” Ms. Singletary said.

“Ma, calm down; it's over. We're fine,” Solomon said.

“Why do you think it was okay to not tell me before now?” she said. “You're not too big to get your butt whipped.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “But you'll be here for the trial, so it kind of works out. But the focus should be on your grandson anyway.”

Michele wanted to prepare her son for his grandparents.

“What are you going to tell him?” Solomon said. “He's already armed with everything he needs to know. We don't have to worry about him being ready for them. They'd better be ready for him.”

Solomon left work early that Wednesday and picked up Gerald from school and then they headed to the airport. His son surprised him by having a sign that he made at school for Mr. and Ms. Singletary.

It was a large, colorful sign created with markers that read, simply: “Hi Grandma and Granddad.”

“Ah, man, you're something else,” he said to his son. “They're going to really like that. In fact, they'll probably argue over who will get to keep it.”

“Do you look like your father?” Gerald said.

“I do, a little bit,” Solomon answered. “He's not as tall as me, but we have the same complexion and the same nose. I have my mother's eyes and mouth. So, I'm a mix; just like you are.”

“I know. I look like you and Mommy,” he said. “So I probably will look like Granddaddy or Grandma, too.”

“You do,” Solomon said. He was so proud. It made him think for the first time that seeing his father with his son would be three generations of Singletary men.

It made the conversation with his son that much more meaningful.

“You know what?” he said to Gerald as they parked the car. “We're going to go to a studio and have some photos taken this weekend.”

Gerald smiled.

“Okay,” Solomon said as they entered the airport terminal. “Can you figure out where we need to go?”

With his sign in hand, young Gerald was not intimidated. “I remember that we go this way,” he said, pointing beyond the baggage claim. Solomon followed him.

“This way,” he said, after reading a sign that directed them to flight arrivals.

Sure enough, Gerald got them to the proper place; the waiting area between the blue and red terminals at Hartsfield-Jackson. At the top of the steep escalator was where people gathered to wait on arriving family and friends. Gerald maneuvered his little body to the front and held up his sign, proudly.

After two large groups of passengers, up came Earl and Lorraine Singletary. Gerald spotted them from photos right away and held up his sign above his head.

His grandmother held her mouth and got teary-eyed. She hurried toward him and hugged him tightly. She was in love that quickly.

“Oh, how's my baby doing? Look at you,” she said, tears rolling down her face.

“You look just like your daddy; and your granddaddy. So handsome. Give me a kiss.”

Solomon and his father embraced while all that was going on. “Son, you look good.”

“So do you, Dad. How was the flight?” Solomon cut his eyes at his mom, indicating he really wanted to know how they got along traveling together.

“We didn't crash, so it was fine,” he said.

Then he turned to Gerald, who was just escaping the loving grasp of his grandmother.

“Hey there, buddy,” he said.

“Hi, Grandpa,” Gerald said as they shook hands, then hugged.

“We've got some catching up to do. I heard you're a pretty good basketball player,” Mr. Singletary said.

“And football and boxing,” Gerald eagerly added. “And Dad is teaching me golf next.”

“Oh, I love it; another big-time athlete,” his grandfather said.

Solomon hugged his mom. “How you doing, Ma?” he said. He glanced at his dad and said, “How was the flight?”

“Well, we didn't crash,” she said.

Solomon laughed. “Come on, let's get your bags.”

Gerald walked between his grandparents and welcomed all the adulation they poured on him. And they were enamored with him.

In the car ride home, Ms. Singletary asked about Michele. “Mommy is at work,” Gerald interjected.

“Yeah, she was disappointed that she couldn't be with us to greet you,” Solomon said. “But she said she wanted to cook dinner tonight.”

When dinnertime came, Michele provided a delectable spread: fried chicken, mac and cheese, green beans, salad and salmon. She did not have time to bake dessert, so she picked up some treats from Cami Cakes in Buckhead.

“I like being here with all of Solomon's family,” she said at the table, after Solomon recited grace. “Solomon didn't say it, but I could tell he was so excited you all were coming.”

“This really does feel like family right now,” Solomon said, looking at his mom and dad. “I can't remember the last time we all sat around a table together and had a meal. I think I was in the twelfth grade.”

They ignored his observation and focused on Gerald. “When you get out of school tomorrow, we want to take you to the mall,” his grandmother said. “We're going to shop and have dinner. Just the three of us.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“You're liking this grandparents thing, huh?” Michele said to
Gerald. “Well, they can spoil you for a couple of days. That's what grandparents do.”

They enjoyed the meal and the dinner conversation, but no one more than Gerald. He liked his grandparents and the feel of family. When it was time for bed, Mr. and Ms. Singletary walked him to his room.

“How you doing?” Solomon asked Michele. “You feeling all this?”

“I'm good,” she said. “You seem so happy to see your parents together.”

“It's weird. I like seeing them get along, but I'm almost waiting for an eruption, you know?” Solomon said. “But so far so good. Anyway, how do you feel about being around my entire family?”

“I'm fine,” she said. “I'm comfortable. I can't even believe your parents aren't together. They get along so well. Maybe they started seeing each other again and didn't tell you.”

“No way,” Solomon said. “At the end, they didn't hate each other, but they hated to be around each other.”

“You know better than me,” she said. “I observed them and there was no tension in the air. But I could be wrong.”

“I'm more focused on this court appearance tomorrow,” Solomon said. “You ready?”

“All I can do is tell the truth,” she said. “It was a long time ago now, but I still have dreams about it.”

But then she felt like she was dreaming when the trial began. Ray, her cousin, Sonya, and Solomon's parents were in the courtroom. They heard the prosecuting attorney, Monique Bunch, deliver a strong opening statement that included: “These two defendants, a pair of young men with a history of crime and discord, robbed the two people at gunpoint on a night they should've remembered with fond and tender memories all their lives.

“Less than thirty minutes after Michele Williams informed her boyfriend, Solomon Singletary, that he was the father of her son, Gerald, these two men jumped in their car, put guns to their heads and threatened their lives.

“Only the grace of God prevented them from firing their weapons and killing these innocent people. They were that close to making a child parentless, and over what? Someone else's vehicle? Where does such lunacy come from, that these young men not only believe it is okay to forcefully take someone else's possessions, but threaten to kill them, too?