Myself and I (15 page)

On
Saturday morning I hobbled to work, but I didn't do my usual routine of vacuuming the pool, hosing down the deck or checking the chlorine balance because my foot was still feeling raw and sore. I wanted to swim and blow off some steam, but I really couldn't get into the water with the open sore on my foot. I was upset and didn't want to do anything except sit on a lawn chair and listen to sad yet uplifting music, so I selected a Mary J. Blige album I'd downloaded onto my iPod. I put on my sunglasses, stared blankly at the blue sky and prayed for Maya's speedy recovery. Before long I'd drifted off into a light sleep.

I was awakened by the squeaking sound of the clubhouse door opening. I didn't bother to look and see who was coming out. I just assumed it was some parent and their small child coming for a swim. “Are you Keysha Kendall?” a woman's voice asked. I looked up and saw a man and a
woman with service revolvers perched on their hips and knew they were cops.

“Yeah,” I answered her slowly, wondering why they were there looking for me.

“I'm Detective Crane, and this is my partner, Detective Rosati,” said the female officer. The woman was a tall, thin redhead with a short haircut, pasty skin and brown freckles. She appeared to be in her early forties, but the crow's-feet around her eyes suggested she was older. Detective Rosati looked like a hard-ass with a beer belly, a receding hairline and an annoying sniffling habit that caused him to suck in air through his nostrils every two seconds.

“We'd like to ask you a few questions,” she said, pulling up a chair from a nearby table.

“Questions about what?” I asked, feeling an anxiety attack surfacing. My heart began pounding against my chest, I was edgy and uneasy.

“Just relax, we're just doing a little investigation,” said Detective Crane. She took out her badge and showed me her identification. She then took out a notepad and pen.

“Keysha, how old are you?” she asked.

“Seventeen,” I answered.

“You're a minor as well,” she muttered. “Where are your parents?”

“Why?” I asked, getting defensive and not wanting to give out any unnecessary information.

“It's just a routine question.” Detective Crane tried to put me at ease, but I began to feel myself tensing up.

“They're at home,” I answered reluctantly.

“That's fine. Do you still live at this address?” Detective Crane showed me a sheet on her notepad that had my address on it.

“Yeah, how did you get that information?” I asked.

“We had it in our database. It seems as if you've had a charge brought against you in the past.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I know the charges were dropped,” Detective Crane finished my sentence for me.

“So what's this visit about?” I asked, wanting them to hurry up and leave.

“Do you know Jerry and Erin Hammond?” she asked.

“Yeah. I know Jerry better than I do Erin,” I answered.

“How long have you known Jerry?” asked Detective Rosati.

“I've only known him a few weeks,” I said.

“Were you guys romantically involved?” he continued to question me

Agitated, I exhaled and gave an ugly glance. “Why is that any of your business?” The ghetto Keysha was starting to come out.

“It's important to our investigation,” Detective Crane explained. I once again hesitated before I answered their question. They were making me nervous; they seemed to be playing close attention to my every movement and expression.

“Like I said, I've only known him for a few weeks. He and his brother come here to swim just like everyone else.
I'm not sure what you'd call our relationship status. We weren't exactly boyfriend and girlfriend, but we were talking to each other.”

“Did he mention the party that he and his brother were going to have yesterday?” asked Detective Rosati.

“Yeah, he told me about it.” I cut my eyes at him because I didn't trust him at all. Something about him made me feel totally on edge.

“And were you at the party?” he asked, following up his question with another one.

“Why do you need to know that?” I asked, once again getting defensive.

“We're just trying to establish where you were when the party was taking place,” said Detective Crane.

I huffed and then turned my attention away from them. “Yeah, I was at the party. Is that a crime?” I asked.

“No, but underage drinking, use of illegal drugs, dog fighting, criminal mischief, burglary and defacing of property are,” said Detective Rosati.

“Well, I didn't do any of those things that you're talking about. I don't drink, smoke or do drugs,” I said in my own defense.

“Do your parents know that you were at this party?” asked Detective Crain.

“No,” I said, folding my arms across my bosom and shooting daggers at her with my eyes, hoping she didn't get the notion to go to my house and snitch on me.

“Since you know Jerry, did he mention to you or do you
know who might have brought the illegal drugs and alcohol to the party?”

“I have no idea.” I paused. “Shouldn't you be asking Jerry and Erin these questions?”

“A second team of officers are dealing with them,” said Detective Crane.

“Do you know whose idea it was to go break into the property next door and spray graffiti on the walls?” asked Detective Rosati.

“No,” I said with an attitude.

“Do you know anyone who ran inside and participated?” asked Detective Crane.

“No,” I answered. “Look, when my brother and I walked out of the house all hell was breaking loose. We decided at that point to leave and go home. What happened afterward is beyond me, because I wasn't there.”

“So, you have a brother who was also there.” This seemed to be news to Detective Crane. “Where is he right now?”

“I don't know,” I replied. I didn't want to say anything else.

“Is he at home, perhaps?” She pressed the issue.

“I said I don't know. I don't keep tabs on him like that. Am I under arrest or something?” I flat-out asked.

“No,” said Detective Crane. “As I said before, we're conducting an investigation, and other witnesses informed us that you were there.”

“Other witnesses? Who in the world gave you my name and the idea that I knew something about what went down?” I asked suspiciously.

Detective Crane didn't answer my question. Instead she removed a business card from her shirt pocket and handed it to me. “If you think of anything else you'd like to tell us. Here's where you can reach me.”

“I've told you. I don't know anything about who did what.”

“I've noted that. Is there a number where I can reach you if we have additional questions?” she asked. I really didn't want to give her my cell phone number and I certainly didn't want to give her the phone number to the house. I suddenly felt that I was damned if I did and damned if I didn't. I gave her my cell number.

“Thank you. We'll be in touch,” she said as they both walked back toward the locker room and exited.

“I hope not,” I said aloud as I picked up the phone and called Jerry. His phone rang continuously before it went to voice mail. I was about to leave him another message, but heard a recording that said, “This mailbox is full, goodbye.” I grumbled when I really wanted to scream.

 

I worked a double shift because Maya couldn't come in for obvious reasons. I mean, if someone started drowning, a lifeguard with her leg in a cast wasn't going to be of much help. When 8:00 p.m. arrived it was time to close the pool, and I was extremely exhausted. I closed up shop without rearranging the furniture or removing the beach ball and other flotation devices from the pool. All I wanted to do was get out of there so that I could stop and see how Maya was doing.

I stood on the corner and waited for the bus, which seemed to be taking forever to arrive. When it finally showed up, I boarded it, paid my fare and took a seat. I tilted my head back and was about to close my eyes when I heard someone call my name. I opened my eyes and looked in the direction where the voice had come from. A few seats back I saw Katina, Mike's girlfriend Sabrina's friend. She waved for me to come sit with her. Without hesitation I went and sat next to her.

“How's it going?” I asked.

“Better than it was yesterday. Did that party get out of hand or what?” she said, smiling as if all of the chaos was exciting to her.

“Yeah,” I said, trying not to relive all of the madness that had taken place.

“My parents almost died when they heard what had happened. You should see that empty house on my block. It's so trashed it's a total eyesore. At least that's what my mom says. My dad says that it looks like we live in the hood now and he's not happy about it. He said that he's going to talk to the Village Board and try to get them kicked out of the neighborhood or something.”

“How in the world does he plan to kick someone out of their own home?” I asked.

“I don't know. That's just what he said.” Katina hadn't considered the rationale of what her father wanted.

“Well, I'm glad that you and Sabrina got out before all of the madness went down,” I said, genuinely happy that she was unharmed.

“Yeah we got out, but we didn't miss any of the action. Sabrina and I watched everything from my bedroom on the second floor. It was like watching one of those police reality shows where surveillance cameras catch all the action. I love those types of shows. I watch them all of the time.”

“Did you see who decided to ransack the house?” I asked.

“I don't know who started it. There was just so much action going on everywhere. I pulled out my cell phone and recorded some of it. In fact, when it was all over I walked out of the house and over to the news van. I spoke to that news reporter, Angela Rivers, and let her know that I had cell phone video of what had gone down. They made me sign some silly waiver and then downloaded what I'd recorded and used it on the news!” She boasted as if she were brilliant for coming up with the idea of capturing it on video.

“Good for you,” I said. I didn't really give a damn about what she'd recorded. “Have you seen Jerry and Erin?”

“Girl, they're probably still in jail,” Katina said as a matter of fact.

“Jail?” I spoke louder than I intended to.

“Yeah, I saw the police handcuff them and everything,” Katina said. “My mom said they'll probably sit in jail until their father comes back and bails them out.”

“Well, now I know why Jerry hasn't answered his phone,” I said.

“Hey, this is my stop.” Katina stood up and pulled the stop cord. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Nice talking to you as well,” I said, moving out of her way so that she could walk over to the exit door.

“Hey, Katina, you don't know who brought all of the alcohol and stuff do you?” I asked, thinking that maybe she had some additional information I could share with the authorities.

“No, but you could probably find out from Ed Daley. He'd be able to tell you,” she said as the bus came to a halt. “See you later.” She stepped off the bus.

 

I arrived at Maya's house around 8:30 p.m. Her mother answered the door and I greeted her pleasantly and asked if I could come in and see how Maya was doing.

“Did you go that party, too?” she asked, clearly annoyed by what had taken place. I didn't want to admit that I had, but knew her mom could probably smell a lie a mile away.

“Yes, I was there,” I answered her shamefully.

“Agh, you kids just don't think about the consequences of your actions,” she said as she stepped aside and let me in. “She's in the other room watching television.” She pointed.

“Thank you. I won't be long,” I assured her.

I walked into the room where Maya was resting. She was sitting in a straight-backed chair that looked uncomfortable and had her injured leg propped up on another chair. Maya's entire leg was covered in a cast. She couldn't bend her knee at all, and the white cast looked totally uncomfortable.

“Hey, girl,” I said as I entered the room. I walked over
to her and gave her a giant hug. “Are you hanging in there?” I asked.

“I don't have a choice,” Maya answered. I pulled up another straight-backed chair from a corner of the room and sat in front of her.

“How does it feel?” I asked.

“It sucks, Keysha. You have no idea how difficult it is to use the toilet when you can't bend your freaking knees!” she said angrily. “This is not how I'm supposed to be spending my summer!” She began crying tears of rage.

I felt myself tearing up because I truly understood her frustration and pain.

“It's hard for me to get around because I haven't figured out exactly how to use my crutches, and I can't sleep in my bedroom because it's on the second floor. I tried hobbling up there once and nearly fell backward. So now I have to sleep in my brother's bedroom, on his creepy mattress which makes my skin crawl, while he gets to sleep in my room and bother all of my stuff,” Maya said, full of angry emotion. I decided that all I needed to do at that point was listen to her.

“And Misalo. My parents told me that I have to break up with him because they feel like he's bad news and is no good for me. Even though he did everything he possibly could've to protect me, that isn't enough in their eyes.” Maya smeared away the tears streaming down her cheeks. That's when I noticed how red and puffy her eyes were.

“He even tried to come over and see me, but my dad ran him off. He told Misalo that he wasn't welcome here.”

“Do you want me to give him a message for you?” I asked, hoping to make her feel better.

“Just tell him that I love him and nothing is going to keep us apart,” Maya said with renewed conviction. We remained silent for a minute, but then she asked me a question.