Authors: Kendra Norman-Bellamy
Fifteen Years (2 page)
He had just eaten the last of his toast when the banging on the front door began. “Who is that knocking on my door like I stole something,” he whispered.
Josiah’s shoulders slumped, and a lung full of regretful air that released through his parted lips showered particles of toasted bread onto the surface of the table. In quick swallows, Josiah tried to drown his disappointment with the remaining juice in his glass.
Reeva had returned a day sooner than normal. Usually when his mother took extended leave, she was gone for at least three days, sometimes longer. At the earliest, Josiah expected to see her when he returned home from tomorrow morning’s services at Everlasting Praise, the church down the street where he worshiped on Sundays.
“I’m coming,” he barked in aggravation as the hammering continued.
Josiah wanted to slip on his shoes before entering that part of the house, but the annoying banging demanded his attention. He walked on his heels, carefully examining the carpet before taking each step. The fibers of the matted, stained, puke green carpet that covered their living room floor felt like a tattered wig beneath Josiah’s bare feet as he made his way to the door. The man he saw on the other side wasn’t who he’d expected to see.
“Does a Ms. Reeva Tucker live here?”
The man who asked the question was one of Chicago’s finest; a man so tall that even Josiah had to look up at him. His stature was threatening, but his face was not. He had to be about six six and had short, mousse-spiked red hair and ruddy skin to match. He held his hat in his hand, and the early morning sunlight ricocheted off of the badge that was pinned to the front of his police uniform.
“Uh… no,” Josiah lied. He knew God wasn’t pleased with his blatant dishonesty, but Josiah wasn’t about to rat out his mama. Whatever Reeva was being accused of, she’d probably done, but he couldn’t be the one to put her behind bars. Not his own mother.
The officer cocked his head to the side and gave Josiah a look that told him that he wasn’t a good liar. “This is the address that we have for her.” He paused as if to give Josiah a second chance. “Are you sure she doesn’t live here?”
“I’m sure.” Josiah stood his lying ground. “Somebody must’ve
given you the wrong address. I don’t know Reeva Mae Tucker.” When he tried to close the door, the strong arm of the law stopped him.
“Just a moment,” the uniformed man said. After a brief hesitation, he removed his hand from the door. “My name is Lieutenant Richard Slater.” The officer made the introduction, but was so busy looking over Josiah’s head to scope out the house that he never made eye contact. “Do you mind if I come in and take a look around?”
What on earth had his mother done? Had she gone and robbed the wrong person to try and pay her drug debt? Had she solicited an undercover cop? When the policeman made a move that looked like he was going to just take the liberty to walk inside the house, Josiah stepped in front of him, blocking the entrance.
“You got a warrant?” Josiah swallowed, not believing his own audacity. He’d never been in any legal trouble before, but he’d heard plenty of stories about people who got arrested for hindering an investigation. Josiah didn’t want to go to jail, but he didn’t want to be the one to let this man find whatever evidence he was looking for so that he could lock up his mama either.
“Son, don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” The officer didn’t seem threatened by Josiah, but he also didn’t seem to be threatening toward him.
“Why you looking for where my … I mean, Ms. Tucker lives? Is she in trouble?” Josiah tried to look nonchalant, but his heart was pounding with the strength of a tidal wave.
“How did you know her middle name was Mae?” The officer’s voice remained calm, but his eyes dared his challenger to lie.
“Huh?” Josiah felt moisture gathering in his armpits. “What?”
“I asked you if Ms. Reeva Tucker lived here, but just a few moments ago, you said you didn’t know a
Reeva Mae
Tucker. How
did you know her middle name was Mae?”
“I… I… Huh?” Josiah felt like a trapped mouse.
“How old are you, young man?” Slater looked him up and down.
Josiah tensed. Why was he looking at him like that? Was the policeman trying to determine whether he could win if it came down to a physical brawl between the two of them? Josiah tried to swell his chest. That ought to be enough to tell the cop who was the man of
this
house. “Eighteen.” He said it with as much attitude as a nervous teenager could muster.
Lieutenant Slater shook his head as though Josiah’s attempts were, at best, pitiful. “Are you related to Reeva Tucker?” When Josiah didn’t answer right away, the policeman sighed heavily like he was starting to get fed up. But when he spoke again, his voice remained friendly and bordered on pleading. “Talk to me, young man. This is very important.”
Josiah’s chest deflated under the pressure and was replaced by quick breaths. He didn’t like the officer’s overly friendly tone. Josiah would rather have the man yell at him, hold a flashlight in his face, or manhandle him like he’d heard cops did when they wanted to make somebody spill the beans about something. At least then Josiah wouldn’t think he was about to be devastated. But Slater didn’t do any of those things. His eyes were compassionate, sad even.
“She’s … she’s … she’s my mother,” Josiah confessed, feeling the emergence of tears that hadn’t yet been given a reason to rise.
“May I come in?”
On unsteady legs, Josiah stepped aside. He watched as Lieutenant Slater walked midway into the living room before coming to a stop, then turned to face him. Josiah remained at the door.
Unable to close it. Unable to breathe. Unable to move.
“There’s no easy way to tell you this, son.” The officer held his hat to his chest as he spoke. “I’m sorry, but your mother was found dead this morning.”
As Josiah’s legs gave way to his weight, all seventy-four inches of his body crumpled to the floor. By most standards, he was a grown man. Old enough to drive. Old enough to vote. Old enough to die for his country. But as he wept uncontrollably, Josiah felt like a helpless orphan. Reeva Mae Tucker may not have been much of a woman, a role model, a provider, or a mother. But she was all he’d had.
“JT, I GOTTA hang out with you more often,” Craig Wilson declared while he flashed a mischievous smile and then lifted his chin in the direction of the three women who sat at a table not twenty feet from theirs.
Josiah chuckled and shook his head at his best friend. It was just before noon on Friday, the one day of the week that they always got together to share lunch. After swallowing the food in his mouth, Josiah said, “Whatever, man. Neither one of those girls can hold a candle to Danielle, so I suggest you stop flirting and appreciate the woman you already have.”
“I got eight more months of bachelorhood, and I’m gonna enjoy every one of them. Just ’cause I got an endorsement contract with one store don’t mean I can’t enjoy looking at the merchandise in another. As long as I’m not trying to make a purchase, I’m not breaking any rules.” Craig made eye contact with the threesome
again, and then pulled his attention away long enough to lift his glass to his lips.
“Why don’t you just bring your face down to the glass and use your tongue to lap up the water like all the other dogs do?” Josiah asked. That was a good one if he had to say so himself. Josiah took a moment to laugh at his own quip despite the look that was being tossed at him from across the table.
Craig lowered his voice, probably to ensure that his less than flattering reply wouldn’t be heard by their admirers. “If there are any dogs in this equation, they’re sitting over there, not over here. They were the ones who trailed us from Chapel Hill to Durham. They are the ones who came wagging their tails into Chili’s and probably asked to be seated near us. They don’t even know us. We could be a couple of psychopaths for all they know, but I’ll bet you anything that if I whistled, they’d come running.”
This time it was Craig’s turn to laugh, and it was Josiah who missed the humor. “That’s not even cool, man.” Josiah wanted to say more words … harsher words, but he swallowed them right along with the Sprite he ingested through his straw.
Clueless of the chord he’d struck, Craig defended his actions. “Might not be cool, but it’s true, and you know it. Back in the day when we were at UNC, I remember being in Professor Woodland’s psychology class and getting into a discussion about this very thing. That’s the way Ted Bundy and other serial killers so easily trapped their victims. Women are always quick to say that men are shallow, but look at what just went down.”
Feeling increasingly defensive, Josiah sat back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. “What are you saying? Are you saying Bundy’s victims deserved what they got ’cause they trusted a strange man?”
Stretching his greyish green eyes as if the lightbulb in his head
had just been turned on, Craig leaned in closer and broke his voice down to a mere whisper. “Come on, JT, don’t do this. Don’t make this about your mama. I’m not talking about her, and you know that.”
Josiah remained poker-faced. “My mother got killed for being too trusting of a man she barely knew. How can I not take it personally?”
“It’s not the same thing. Your mom couldn’t be expected to make good decisions. She was a …” Craig’s voice trailed momentarily while he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. Running his hands through the dark brown strands of his short hair, he looked away from Josiah. It was obvious that he was trying to choose his words carefully. “You said yourself that she was an addict. When a person is stoned or intoxicated, they make bad decisions—decisions they probably wouldn’t make if they were sober.” He jerked his head in the general direction of their female fans, but focused his eyes on Josiah. “Those girls are fully coherent. They saw what appeared to be two successful, and shall I say
handsome
men driving a sleek, black Audi, and they followed us for miles, not knowing a thing about who we are on the inside. That’s not to be compared with what happened to your mom.”
Josiah relaxed a bit, but he could still feel lingering tension in his shoulders. It was a common reaction whenever he felt that someone was trying to throw any part of his sordid past in his face.
“You need a woman,” Craig suddenly said.
“What?”
“You heard me. That’s your problem right there. You need a real good lady to help keep your mind off the bad stuff. I told you that Ulanda thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread. I can hook a brotha up if you want me to.”
Shaking his head, Josiah said, “First of all, your twenty-three-year-old sister is too young for me. Secondly, you need a real good
shrink if you really think having a woman is my problem.”
“Having a woman ain’t your problem.
Not
having one is.” Craig propped an elbow on the table and pointed toward Josiah. “How long has it been since you’ve been on a date?”
“Six days.” When Craig’s eyes stretched, Josiah felt triumphant. “Any other questions?” he added with one raised eyebrow and a tilt of his head.
“Who?” Craig fished. “Somebody I know? Why you holding out on a brotha?”
“I’m not holding out.” Josiah picked up a napkin and wiped his lips. “I didn’t tell you anything because there’s nothing to tell. I taught a software workshop to the admin department at her church, and we kind a hit it off.”
“I remember you telling me about that assignment.” Craig nodded his head as he spoke. “So she’s one of the administrators at the church?”
“She’s the pastor’s administrator. His right hand, so to speak.”
“Okay, so I can deduce from what you’ve told me that she’s active in ministry. That’s always a good sign. Sounds like a winner to me. Why don’t you think that was anything to tell me?”
Josiah slid his Sprite to the side and chose to refresh his parched throat with a few swallows of water. After wiping his mouth again, he said, “Because although the date went well, I have no plans to see her again.”
“I don’t get it.” Craig’s contorted face was a billboard of confusion.
“When I took her home, she invited me in.”
“For a nightcap?”
“For the night.”
A hush blanketed the table that neither man seemed in a hurry to end. Josiah drank more water, and Craig sat back in his seat and folded his arms in front of him as if to say he now understood.
“Just be thankful for Danielle,” Josiah finally mumbled. “Virtuous women don’t exactly come a dime a dozen.”
Craig shrugged. “Yeah, Dani’s a big-time blessing, that’s for sure. In my unattached days, I found out that even the good ones aren’t always godly. You never know what they do behind closed doors.”
“You never know
…” Josiah’s thoughts came spilling out before he could stop them. It seemed like it never mattered what the conversation topic was on any given day, his mind would always eventually bring his mother into it. Reeva tried to be a good woman; she really did. But why couldn’t she have been godly too? Why had she had to be such a waste of human flesh?
The table was eerily quiet. Josiah knew that his friend had quickly concluded that it was better that he not reply at all. And he was probably right.