Myself and I (16 page)

“How was work today?”

“I worked your shift for you. The park district is working on finding a replacement for you, but I don't know when that's going to happen.”

“My life totally sucks!” Maya griped.

“Well, we're on the same boat, honey, because two detectives paid me a visit today.”

“WTF! Why are police hounding you?” Maya seemed to welcome the distraction.

“Hell if I know. They came there asking all kinds of questions about Jerry and Erin and if I knew who vandalized the empty house next door to them.”

“I heard the place got totally trashed,” Maya stated.

“That's what I heard, too, but I haven't been over there to look at it or anything.”

“How did so many people hear about that party?” Maya asked.

“Cell phones, girl. People started calling their friends and those friends called more friends and it went on and on. People showed up from everywhere. If you ask me the crowd was massive.”

“Wow!” Maya said.

“And get this—Jerry and Erin are in jail right now,” I said.

“Get out!” Maya yelled.

“Yeah, girl, it's a real mess.” I repositioned myself in the seat.

“Well.” Maya paused. “It was one hell of a party.” She laughed and tried to find a silver lining in all the mess that happened.

“Do you have any polish?” I asked.

“Yeah, upstairs in my room,” Maya answered.

“Well, I'm going to go get some so I can paint your toes. They look a mess,” I said with a smile.

“You know, Keysha, I'd like that a lot,” Maya said, giving me permission to go retrieve what I needed from her room.

 

Maya's mom was kind enough to drive me back home since it was nearly ten. When she pulled into the driveway I noticed an unmarked police cruiser sitting in the driveway.

“It looks like the police are here. They don't think you're missing, do they?” asked Maya's mom.

“No, I called my parents and let them know that you were bringing me home,” I said, wondering what was going on. “This probably has something to do with my brother.”

“Well, I hope everything is okay,” she said as she stopped her car and let me out. She waited until I was inside before pulling off. I walked up the steps and entered the family room. I felt my heart stop when I saw Detective Crane and Detective Rosati sitting on the sofa. Mike had his face buried in his hands, and both Barbara and Jordan looked at me with murderous eyes.

Detectives
Crane and Rosati paid Mike a visit at home to find out what he knew about the party and all the vandalism that took place. Needless to say, when our parents found out that we actually were at the party, they were beyond pissed off. Once the police left, Barbara hauled off and slapped Mike so hard that he tumbled to the floor.

“That's for being deceitful and acting as if you were nowhere near that party. How could you lie to us like that with a straight face!” Barbara had gone ballistic. I wanted to say something but I didn't know what, and to make matters worse my stomach started doing somersaults and I felt as if I were about to puke.

“And you!” Barbara looked at me as if she wanted to commit homicide. “After all we've been through since you've arrived. We've stood by you, defended you, and this is how you repay us for our kindness?”

“But—”

“But my ass, Keysha! The police told us how they paid you a visit at work today. Let me tell you something, little girl. If this turns out to be more than just an inquiry, I'm going to see to it personally that you stay locked up!”

“But—” A boulder got caught in my throat and I couldn't speak. I wanted to assure her that I did nothing wrong, but she was inconsolable at that moment. I looked at my father, who had such a look of disgust on his face that I bowed my head and stared at the floor. I dared not say anything to upset him any more than he already was.

Jordan walked over to me and stopped. I felt his eyes glaring at me like lasers, and if they'd had the power to burn I would have been a pile of ashes.

“Daddy—”

“I don't want to hear it!” he barked viciously. I cringed with fear. He and Barbara finally left the room.

Nervously, I walked over to Mike, who stood holding his face. His eyebrows were threaded together from the wounded scowl in his expression.

“Are you okay?” I asked, trying to comfort him with a hug. Mike pushed me away from him and didn't say a word. He walked over to the door and walked out into the night. I stood in the center of the family room, paralyzed. I felt as if everything around me was coming unhinged, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it.

 

Jordan and Barbara were extremely disappointed in Mike and me. Their disillusionment with me stirred up a storm
in my heart that was heavy with the burden of the truth. They still allowed me to go to work, and that's exactly what I did. I didn't involve myself in anything that had the potential to lead to trouble.

At night I could hear Barbara and Jordan arguing about what to do with Mike and me. My bedroom was directly above theirs, and the ventilation ducts carried their voices straight up and into my room, especially when they were loud.

Jordan wanted to ship me off to reform school for troubled girls, and Barbara wanted Mike to be placed in a mental hospital for further evaluation to determine if there was a medical explanation for his Jeckyll and Hyde personality. She even went as far as to suggest that something could have happened when Jordan accidentally dropped Mike on his head when he was still a toddler. It was heart-wrenching listening to them bickering and then observing them as they moved around the house the next morning refusing to speak to each other and completely ignoring Mike and me. I felt like an interloper, and all I wanted to do was disappear, or at least have the ability to make myself invisible.

By Tuesday of the following week, I was still walking around on eggshells, and it was unnerving. No one in the house talked to each other anymore, and it began to feel as if my family wasn't going to survive this latest hiccup.

After eating a very light breakfast, I left the house and went to work as usual. When I arrived I methodically went
about doing my chores, but it wasn't easy because I was starting to feel as if neither Jordan nor Barbara cared for me anymore. I felt alienated and isolated from their love. I wanted to tell them how sorry I was for the things I'd done. I knew they were angry, but I didn't want them to be viciously unkind to me. I wanted them to know that the words falling from their mouths hurt me more than they realized. But I knew that they wouldn't listen to this, especially since trust had become an issue. I knew that I was more of a burden to them than I'd ever been before.

Then, a voice in my mind told me that I should just kill myself and end it all.
But how?
I thought. As I stood there rolling the vacuum on the floor of the pool and allowing my mind to entertain the thought of suicide, a notion of drowning myself entered my mind.
I could do it tonight,
I told myself.
I could go home and take a few heavy barbells and some thick rope from the garage. I could bind the rope and heavy weights around my ankles and wrists and allow myself to fall into the deep end and wait for death to come and take me. It would be simple and easy. I wouldn't leave a note; my dead body would say everything that needed to be said.
The more I thought about the idea, the more appealing it became. It would be my way of getting back at my mother, Justine, for giving birth to me and then abandoning me. I would be able to get back at my grandmother Rubylee for getting incarcerated and leaving me in the world all alone. Finally, I'd get back at Jordan and Barbara for making me feel like an intruder. It would be my way of saying: “I'm tired and I've had enough.”
Yes,
I said to myself,
committing suicide is the best way to go.

I heard someone enter the pool through the clubhouse locker room while my mind was in a trance and telling me to deliberately kill myself. I glanced up and saw Detectives Crane and Rosati approaching. I certainly thought I'd seen the last of those two. I didn't acknowledge them. I just continued to do my work hoping they'd just go away.

“Keysha,” Detective Crane called my name.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“I have a warrant for your arrest.” Her tone was cold and heartless.

“What?” I glared at her thinking that she was joking, but I knew she was dead serious when I saw Detective Rosati remove the steel handcuffs.

“What are you trying to arrest me for?” I asked, backing away and searching for a way to run around them.

“Don't make this harder on yourself than it has to be.” Detective Crane implored me not to resist. I dropped the pool vacuum and tried to make a run for it, but my attempt at escaping was futile. They easily captured me, placing my wrists in handcuffs, then read my Miranda Rights.

“Keysha Kendall. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?”

“Just shoot me and put me out of my misery,” I pleaded and began crying while being escorted toward their squad car.

Officer
Crane informed me that I was being arrested for criminal mischief and defacing and destruction of private property. The charges were completely bogus. I began to think that Detectives Crain and Rosati were corrupt and were just trying to close the case and move on without doing any meaningful investigative work.

“Those are false up charges and you know it. Why are you doing this to me? I've done nothing wrong!” I tried to speak calmly, but under the circumstances it was difficult.

“We can talk about it when we get to the station. We'll be more than happy to accept your confession there,” explained Detective Rosati. I couldn't believe that jackass actually thought he was going to get a freaking confession out of me! I remained silent during the remainder of the journey to the police station.

Once the squad car was parked, they escorted me inside, placed me in an interrogation room and said they'd be back
shortly. The room had a table that was bolted to the floor, a clock, a surveillance camera and a two-way mirror. I sat there feeling myself going crazy, as if I were about to totally lose my mind. I didn't understand how or why they'd come to the conclusion that I was responsible or participated in criminal activity. All I did was go to a party and then left when I saw that it was getting out of control. The only thing I was truly guilty of was not telling my parents that I was there.

Finally, Crane and Rosati walked back into the room with a folder, a pad and a pen to write with. They sat down across from me.

“Now, Keysha, we've already started recording this so that there is no room for error,” explained Detective Crane. “You can make this easier on yourself by telling the truth about what happened.”

“Easier on myself, how? I didn't do anything,” I explained to them once more.

“Keysha, we have two eyewitnesses who say that you're the one who brought the spray cans to the party and gathered up a bunch of people to break into the empty house next door.” At that point I began laughing and thought they were truly joking.

“Okay, is this some kind of prank my brother Mike is trying to pull?” I said, looking back at the two-way mirror. “This isn't funny, Mike.”

“Keysha, we are not joking,” Detective Rosati said with a grim look on his face.

“Then the joke is on you two, because someone has lied to you,” I said, knowing that my words were the truth.

“Keysha, you've already admitted that you were at the party. So that places you at the scene of the crime,” said Detective Crane.

“That doesn't mean that I committed a crime. I watch those cop shows, you know? This is a bunch of bull! I don't know who you've been talking to, but they are both liars! Just ask Jerry, he'll tell you.”

“We did ask him, and he said that he'd left you for a period of time and didn't know where you were,” said Detective Crane.

“What! That bastard!” I slapped the palm of my hand down on the table. “We were in his bedroom making out when his friend Carlos came and got him. Carlos told him that some boys had shown up with some dogs to fight with. Then Jerry left to go put the boys out.”

“Yes, he told us that. He also said that he asked you to wait in his bedroom, but when he returned, you weren't there,” said Detective Rosati as he thumped his index finger on the table.

“That's because all hell was about to break loose and—”

“That's when you decided to leave the room and go join in on the fun.” Detective Rosati was trying to put words in my mouth.

“No!” I snapped at him. “That's when I decided to go
home.
”

“You're the one who's lying to us, Keysha. Your version
of events don't match the eyewitnesses who've come forward.”

“Who are these eyewitnesses? Have you checked their—” I stopped talking as I thought about who'd slander my name. “Lori and Priscilla,” I said their names out loud, then looked at the two officers. They both had a different look on their faces when I said the names.

“First of all, Lori is a total nutcase, and Priscilla, although she can't stand my guts, wasn't even there as far as I know. I mean, she could've shown up, but I didn't see her.”

“So you're sticking to your story that you had nothing to do with it?” asked Detective Crane.

“Yes, and as far as I'm concerned I'd like to call my daddy so he can come get me. This is all a frame-up!”

“This appears to be the third time you've claimed to have been framed, Keysha. I'm not convinced that you're innocent. I've looked up our files on you. You've been picked up before for allegedly selling Ecstasy.”

“Those charges were dropped!” I quickly said.

“Then the Chicago police picked you up in a stolen car,” Detective Rosati continued.

“That wasn't a stolen car, technically,” I said.

“And now this. Here's what I believe. I think that you're guilty of all of these crimes but have been slipping through the cracks on technicalities. But you're not going to get off this time, young lady.” Detective Rosati was an evil bastard who was hell-bent on seeing me go down.

“I want my one phone call,” I said with a trembling voice.
In the back of my mind I began to think about all of the news stories I'd heard about corrupt cops framing innocent people and sending them to jail for crimes they didn't commit. Or beating a confession out of a detainee for something they were innocent of. Detectives Rosati and Crane fit the mold for bad cops, at least in my mind they did.

“Fine!” Rosati slammed his fist in anger on the table. I flinched, because the guy looked as if he was about to totally lose it.

 

Jordan wasn't happy that I'd gotten picked up by the police. When he arrived about an hour later I felt numb. They released me into his custody and I immediately hugged him, but he didn't return the affection. His body was cold and uninviting, and he didn't wrap his strong arms around me. I smashed my cheek into his chest hard and held on tighter because I wanted to be held. I wanted to feel safe and secure, but at the moment hugging Jordan was not comforting at all.

When we got into the car, he fired it up and drove off. Neither one of us said a word for a long time, until he finally broke the silence.

“I'm at the end of my rope with you, Keysha. I just don't know how much more I can take. Reform school or a behavior-modification program out in the wilderness may be your last hope. Perhaps a time spent out in the open country will help you understand yourself and life.”

“You don't believe that I'm innocent?” I asked tearfully.

“I don't know. What I do know is that you've only lived with me for a year and you've had three run-ins with the law. You've pushed me to the brink, Keysha, and now it's time for me to give you some tough love.”