Hoodie (36 page)

She climbed into bed and pulled her knees to her chest. She rocked herself back and forth feeling the rising panic. She did not have the strength to fight it. She could only mutter useless words over and over to herself. “It’ll be alright. It’ll be alright. It’ll be alright.” But she knew that it would not. Nothing would be right again, and she thought of the three children playing Hide and Seek, wishing she could be with them now so that she could hide away forever and never be found.

Thursday, May 27

The week was a lonely one. He never came to school, and while her heart ached for him, she was glad for his absence. She would not know what to do if he were there. Her friends tried to comfort her. They hugged her and told her over and over that everything would be okay, that she would get over him and be happy again. She felt the bitterness creep in and curl around her heart. She hated the words they said to her. That’s what everyone says when someone’s heart gets broken, she thought. You’ll move on. You’ll get over it. But they did not feel her pain, could not hope to comprehend it. She could not even comprehend it.

She tried several times during the week to reach him. She called him and left him messages until his message box became full and she could no longer talk to him. He was like a ghost to her now, and she panicked at the thought that she may never see him again. Finals started today and would last through next week. Would he show up for those, she wondered? If not, then she would never see him again, at least not at school. She doubted that he would attend graduation.

She spotted Kareem during the middle of the day. She was hesitant at first to approach him; perhaps he shared Anton’s feelings and was angry with her, but she was desperate for any news of her boyfriend. He was still her boyfriend, she thought resolutely. She walked swiftly towards Kareem before her courage failed her. She tapped on his shoulder, and he turned around.

His eyes were large and sad. He looked as tired as Anton had been the day she found him in his room.

“Hey Emma,” he said softly.

“Kareem, I’m sorry,” Emma said, tears running anew. She wondered how much she could cry before her body dried up and withered to nothing.

“I know,” he said, the mist rising in his own eyes.

“I don’t know what to do. Anton won’t talk to me,” Emma said.

“He a mess, Emma,” Kareem replied, wiping carelessly at his chubby face.

“I feel like he hates me,” she said quietly.

“He don’t hate you. He don’t know what he feel. He just know he hurtin’.”

“But he won’t even talk to me,” Emma said.

“He won’t talk to nobody. I had to force him to see me yesterday. His mama all concerned about him. She afraid he lost his mind. But who can blame him after what he saw.”

Emma wiped her eyes.

“We was down at the store gettin’ some snacks. We was all gonna play cards and get high. We didn’t see nothin’, but other people say he was holding Nate and there was blood everywhere. All over him. All over the floor.” Kareem could not finish. He burst into tears, and Emma wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her because she didn’t know what else to do.

“Nobody should see that, man. Nobody,” he said after a time. She released him and he wiped at his face.

“Nate, he was so angry. I never understood that about him. Why he always so angry. I miss him, Emma, but maybe he at peace now, you know? I just hope he at peace.”

Emma nodded but said nothing.

“I can’t believe I’m here gonna take a test. My teacher say she postpone it, but what’s the point? I ain’t gonna feel any better next week,” he said.

Emma remembered the term paper in her bag. She forced herself to complete it this week without Anton. Nothing about it felt right because he was not with her to put the final pieces together, to make it theirs. She felt like it was her sorry attempt at writing for the both of them. They were her words at the end. She simply put his name on it.

“I gotta go,” Kareem said, and Emma hugged him goodbye. She watched him lumber down the hallway, head down, until he disappeared around the corner.

She made her way to the bathroom before dropping off her term paper to Dr. Thompson. She walked slowly through the hallway, searching for Anton. Maybe he would show up at least for a moment so that she could tell him that she loved him. She forgot to tell him that when she last saw him.

She was unaware that she was being followed into the bathroom. She closed herself in the last stall and stood blowing her nose into some toilet tissue. She wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath. The bathroom was quiet, and she was glad for the temporary peace. She was tempted to hide in the stall for the rest of the afternoon, but she had a paper to turn in and a final to take.

She opened the door and walked out holding her term paper. She was greeted by three girls—friends of Nate’s she recognized instantly. They were looking at her, heads cocked to the side, deciding what to do with her. The fear consumed her immediately, and she searched her mind for a way to escape.

“So you the white bitch thinkin’ she can fuck a black guy,” one of the girls said.

Emma said nothing. Her eyes darted wildly around. What could she do to get out of there, she thought? But the girls had her trapped against the far wall of the bathroom, and she only then noticed a fourth one standing guard by the door.

“You got some nerve, girl, thinkin’ you can fuck one of ours,” the girl continued. She appeared to be the leader of this very real, very scary gang.

Emma opened her mouth to say something. She always heard that talking helped. Maybe if she just said something, they would let her go. But the words stuck in her throat.

“You know you responsible for killin’ him?” another one of the girls asked.

Emma shook her head.

“Oh you don’t know? Well, you are. See, you get with a nigga and mess up his life and make him turn against his brotha. You make him humiliate his brotha in front of everyone. Yeah, I was there and saw the whole thing.” It was the ring leader who spoke. “Then he go and kill hisself outta grief. And you responsible for that,” she continued. “So the question is, what should happen to you?”

Emma felt the tears stinging her eyes, her face awash with them. Her body shook violently, the terror coursing throughout her making her feel like she would throw up or soil herself.

“I guess we gonna have to make you pay up,” the ring leader continued, and she pulled a knife out of her purse.

“I’m begging,” Emma whispered, feeling she would faint. “Please don’t.”

Her words went unheeded as the knife plunged into her stomach over and over again. It was an electric pain that rendered her speechless. She could do nothing but double over and try hard to protect herself, but the knife found its way between her arms, slicing her skin and battering her insides.

The girls ran out leaving her alone to watch the blood seep into her shirtfront. She collapsed on the floor, blood smearing the term paper still clutched in her hand. She couldn’t believe the amount of blood. She thought she could bath in it, swim in it, let it swallow her whole.

The electric pain subsided as she felt a new sensation. She didn’t hurt anymore, and it made her giddy. She giggled as she clutched at the dirty floor. It was moving, she thought. The floor was moving, and her heartbeat quickened as she felt the lightheadedness that comes before a fainting spell. She thought that she might like to faint, and smiled dreamily as her eyelids closed.

CHAPTER 25

TUESDAY, JUNE 2

She woke from her dream. She felt a mask on her face and wanted to take it off. She willed her hands to move, but they remained frozen by her sides. She thought she would suffocate from the mask and felt desperate for someone to take it off. But then she realized it was pushing something into her body that she needed. She could almost hear it, a soothing song of life flowing into her, helping to make her strong again.

She thought she felt his hand in hers. His fingers were lightly stroking her palm. He was saying something to her. She thought she heard him crying, and she wanted to tell him that everything would be alright. That she was feeling better. She felt his lips on her forehead and his hand leave her hand. Don’t go, she thought. Stay awhile. I’ll take you to the movies. I’ll take you to the park. We can sit and watch the ducks on the water and talk about our paper. You can say something funny and I’ll laugh because I always laugh. We can do whatever you want, just please don’t go.

Her head felt fuzzy and she slipped back into her dream.

***

Anton left her room unwillingly. His time was up—a short fifteen minutes—and he watched as her parents passed by him into the room. They acknowledged him but said nothing. He walked to the lobby and sunk deep into a chair. He would stay there and wait until he could see her again. He would sleep at the hospital every night until they released her.

He put his face in his hands and inhaled deeply. It was almost unbearable to see her for the first time. The respirator, the tubes everywhere, the thin hospital gown covering her grotesque wounds. He knew they were there, could imagine what they looked like, and he cried when he pictured what must have happened to her in that dirty, lonely bathroom. And he was not there to protect her. He had thrown her out of his house, his life, because he was consumed with his own grief. He never thought once how she must have felt.

Every day his mama urged him to go home. She worried constantly, he could tell, and he wished he could do something to ease her anxiety. She was there a lot, checking on Emma, giving him updates when he wasn’t allowed to see her. He knew Emma wouldn’t die because she was too young. She would fight it because he had to believe that she knew he still loved her. In spite of his anger and hurtful words, he loved her. And as soon as she opened her eyes he would tell her that. Tell her that he would never talk to her that way again, that he would cradle her against him forever whispering only the language of love into her ear, breathing the sweetness back into her. The pain would disappear as though it never existed, and they would find their way back to the time they first kissed.

He looked up when he heard someone clear his throat. It was Emma’s father standing over him looking concerned. He sat down opposite Anton; his face looked haggard and as he began to talk, Anton heard the strain in his voice, like every word was a struggle.

“That’s my baby girl in there,” he said.

“I know,” Anton replied.

“No, I don’t think you do know,” Mr. Chapman said. His tone was not accusatory. “See, I made her. And when I made that decision, I took on the responsibility of protecting her. Not until I thought she was old enough, but forever. Because she’ll always be my baby girl, even when she’s a hundred.”

Anton was quiet, listening.

“I love her more than anything. I love her more than my own wife,” Mr. Chapman said quietly.

Anton raised his eyebrows at that.

“And I get a sense that you love her too,” he went on.

“I do,” Anton said. His voice cracked, and he cleared it. “I do,” he said more firmly.

“And what has your love done for her, son?” Mr. Chapman asked.

Anton had no reply.

“You see, my love heals and protects. That’s a father’s love. And no one in the world can match it. But your love? Your love has broken and scarred her. That’s your love. Do you see the difference?”

Anton felt the tears sting his eyes. He wanted to say that her father was wrong, that his love could heal, too, but he couldn’t.

“I can’t tell you to stay away from my daughter,” Mr. Chapman said. “You’re going to do what you want based on what you feel is right. But Anton, you need to remember something. She will heal and come out of this place. She will resume her life as normal. But what has passed between the two of you is broken and can never be fixed. And if you try to hold onto her because of your own selfishness, you will destroy her.”