Authors: Chandra Sparks Taylor
I slept with my parents that night, still trying to make sense of what happened.
When I woke up the next morning, I was in their bed alone. I sat up laughing at the bad dream I'd had, and I got up to go tell my brother, knowing he was going to tell me how silly I was for letting a dream spook me.
The joke was on me.
When I walked into the living room, it was filled with people, food and flowers. I knew then that I hadn't been dreaming. I had witnessed a similar scene when my grandmother died a few years ago, but this one was different because most of the people sitting in the room were kids.
Kyle was the first one to spot me, and without saying a word, he just walked over and grabbed me. That was when I lost it. From the depths of my soul, tears erupted, and I cried for what seemed like days. I vaguely remembered Daddy lifting me up and carrying me to my room. A few minutes later, darkness claimed me.
When I woke again, it was dark outside, but I could make out Kyle sitting in a chair. I stared at him for a few seconds. He must have sensed I was awake, because he walked over to the bed and grabbed my hand and squeezed it like he would never let go.
“We're going to get through this, Jas,” he vowed.
I just nodded.
He sat down beside me, and we sat in silence for a few minutes.
“Are all those people still here?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Most of them have already left. I think Loretta and T are here, and a few of your relatives.”
I struggled to sit up. “What are they doing here?” I asked, angry that either of them would have the nerve to set foot in my house.
“I guess they wanted to offer their condolences.”
“Tell them to leave,” I said. “I don't want to see either one of them.” My tone must have told him I meant business, because he didn't ask any questionsâhe just went to do as I had asked.
I rolled over on my back and stared at the ceiling after he left, still hoping I was just dreaming. When I heard the door creak open, I didn't have the energy to see who it was.
“Jas, you asleep?” someone asked.
I turned at the sound of the voice and smiled when I saw Kyle's little brother, Tony.
He walked over to the bed and climbed up beside me. “Hi,” he said when he realized I was awake. He gave me the biggest smile, and I couldn't help but smile, too, although it didn't last long.
“Hey, Tony,” I said.
He snuggled up beside me. “I'm sorry about Derrick,” he said into the darkness.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
I realized that I would be hearing “I'm sorry” a lot over the next few days. “Thank you” felt like a silly response, but I didn't know what else to say.
“You want me to get you something to eat?” he asked.
I realized that I was hungry, and I thought about asking him to fix me a plate, but I could only imagine what Tony would put on it. Instead, I got up and headed to the living room, where my family and Kyle's mother were sitting.
I was glad to see that T and Loretta were nowhere around.
Mama walked over to me and gave me a hug. “You hungry?” she asked.
I nodded, and she went to fix me a plate.
My butt had just hit the chair when Uncle Henry started in.
“So what happened?” he asked me.
“Henry,” someone said, shocked at how forward he was being.
He ignored them and stared at me, waiting for a response.
“I don't know,” I finally said. “I was a block away when I heard gunshots.”
“So you didn't see anything?” he asked, sounding as though he didn't believe me.
“No,” I said.
“Why were you near DC Records?” he asked.
“Why is that any of your business?” I returned.
He looked like I had slapped him.
“I'm trying to help you,” he said.
“Unless you can bring my brother back, don't bother.” I pushed aside the plate of food Mama had brought me and headed back to my room, not wanting to deal with my family. I crawled into bed and seriously thought about never leaving. When I heard the door creak open again, I pretended to be asleep. I opened my eyes when I felt someone sit beside me and take my hand. Kyle had once again taken up his post, and I smiled my thanks, knowing that, like my brother, he had my back.
T
he day of my brother's funeral was the hardest of my life. I had refused to go to view the body, because I still didn't want to believe my brother was gone. I just kept telling myself that he was at the symposium he was supposed to attend that weekend.
His murder had been all over the news for the last couple of days, Kyle had told me. There was still no clue as to the killer. After searching his car, the police had allowed Daddy to pick it up, and he had just parked it in the garage. I found myself going to sit in it a couple of times because it made me feel closer to my brother.
Back in my room I took a deep breath as I looked at myself in the mirror, silently encouraging myself to get it together. When a soft knock sounded at the door, I couldn't even respond before the door was pushed open and in walked Loretta.
I just stared at her in amazement. First off, I couldn't believe she had the nerve to show up at my house, especially on the day of my brother's funeral. Second, she looked a mess. She had on a black satin shirtdress that stopped right below her butt and left her breasts spilling out, some fishnet stockings and wedge-heeled sandals. If that wasn't bad enough, she had on this blue pageboy wig.
“Hey,” she said softly. Her eyes were red, I assumed from crying, but I realized it could have been from any number of things. Loretta had been my girl for a long time, but I realized in that moment that I'd never really known her.
I didn't bother to respond. Instead, I turned around and played with my hair, which as usual wasn't cooperating.
“Look, I know you're mad at me, and I just wanted to say I'm sorryâ¦for everything.”
I applied my lip gloss and puckered my lips in the mirror, still ignoring her.
“T knows some people who knows some people out in L.A. who can help me get some modeling gigs,” she said. “I'm leaving tomorrow.”
I laughed to myself. I couldn't believe she had the nerve to mention T. I just shook my head.
“Aren't you going to say anything?” she asked.
“Bye,” I said into the mirror, looking her dead in the eye.
“Why are you tripping?” she said. “T didn't mean anything to me. I just did what I had to do for my career.”
“Don't you mean you did who you had to do?” I asked, walking over to the bed, where I put on my shoes. My parents and I had agreed not to wear black, so I'd chosen a red pantsuit and some black heels.
“Trust me. You'll thank me later. T wasn't who you thought he was.”
“And neither were you,” I said.
She gave me a sad nod. “I guess I deserve that.”
I finally looked at her. “Why are you here?” I asked.
“Because you're my friend, and I loved Derrick like a brother,” she said, shaking her head in amazement. “I still can't believe he's gone. I'm so sorry.”
“Yeah, you are sorry,” I said. “Please leave me alone.” I brushed past her and headed to the living room, where my parents and few other family members were gathered along with Kyle and his family.
I didn't even acknowledge Loretta when she walked out the door. Kyle looked at me, silently asking if I was all right, and I nodded. If I never saw Loretta again, it would be too soon.
We said a brief prayer, then headed to the church, which was packed. I stood between my parents in the processional line, trying to talk myself into going into the church. When the funeral director told us it was time to go in, I looked at Mama and Daddy, and I realized they were having just as hard a time as me. I grasped both of their hands, and together, we walked to the front of the church, where my brother lay surrounded by more flowers than I had ever seen in my life.
When I caught sight of Derrick's face, I lost it. I crumpled to the floor, and I started screaming and yelling. Daddy tried to lift me, but he was torn up, too, and Mama was incoherent. Finally, someone managed to get all three of us seated, and I spent the rest of the service sitting up under Daddy. I stared at my brother a few times, and I actually thought I saw him breathing, but the waxiness of his face told me it was just wishful thinking on my part.
As they closed the casket, someone began singing “It's So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday,” and Mama, Daddy and I lost it again, as did most of the congregation. Finally the minister asked the singer to stop the song, and he stood up to deliver his eulogy, none of which I really heard.
Going to the cemetery seemed so final. My brother's body was committed to the ground, and before I realized it, I had thrown myself at the casket. I stood there crying for what seemed like forever. Finally Kyle grabbed me and led me away.
“I told your mom I'd take you back to the house,” he said quietly.
I just nodded. We rode in silence for a while until it must have got the best of Kyle and he turned on the radio. We were almost to the house when the song I had recorded with Mocha Love came on. I smiledâuntil I realized my brother wasn't there to share the joy with me.
I finally snapped off the radio and looked out the window, knowing that my life would never be the same.
Two weeks later, Mama and Daddy both returned to work, but I couldn't bring myself to do anything more than lie in bed. My cell phone was blowing up constantly, but I didn't feel like talking to anyone, so I ignored it. I found myself at least once a day slipping off to sit in Derrick's car, which made me feel so much closer to him. I still couldn't believe he was gone.
Kyle stopped by every day after his classes, which had started a week ago, and most days he didn't even say anything. He just sat with me, ready to listen if I wanted to talk. He even brought his little brother, Tony, over a couple of times, which was about the only time I laughed.
I was just about to grab a bowl of cereal one afternoon when I was waiting for Kyle when the phone rang. I had been ignoring it for the longest, but for some reason, I answered, and the voice I heard on the other end made me groan.
“Where are you?” T asked.
“Why?” I asked with an attitude.
“Look, I know you're probably still mad, but we're supposed to be in the studio today. You need to get down here.”
“You really think I'm going into the studio with you?” I asked. “Whatever, T.” I hung up the phone just as Kyle walked through the front door with a bag of White Castle hamburgers.
“Hey,” he said just as the house phone rang. “You want me to get that?”
I just shrugged. He picked it up and spoke for a few seconds, then handed me the phone.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Some woman,” he said.
I sighed and grabbed the phone. “Hello.”
“Hey, Jasmine. It's Jessica from DC Records,” she said, sounding more professional than I had ever heard her.
“Hey,” I said.
“Please hold a moment for Ron.” She didn't even wait for me to respond before she put me on hold.
Ron came on the line a few seconds later. “Jasmine, how have you been?” he asked.
“Not good,” I said.
“Yeah, I heard about your brother,” Ron said. “I'm real sorry to hear that. Did you guys get the flowers we sent to the funeral?”
“Yes,” I said, not knowing if we had or not. “They were really nice. Thank you.”
He was silent for a second. “We've left several messages for you. You're supposed to be in the studio today recording. You also missed two other recording sessions, as well as deejaying Teen Scene.”
I shook my head, trying to figure out why he was pressing me when he knew my brother had died.
“Look, I can't do it right now,” I said. “I've got a lot going on.”
“I understand, but business is business. I expect you in the studio this afternoon.”
“Whatever,” I said, and hung up on him.
Kyle and I sat around watching TV until my parents got home that evening. I said goodbye, then headed to my room, where my cell phone was beeping, indicating that I had a message.
Actually, I had about thirty of them. A few were from friends from school offering their condolences, but there were some about gigs I had lined up that I hadn't shown up for. There were three from T, as well as a few from the guy whose twenty-first birthday I was supposed to deejay. There were also several from both Ron and DC, all of them sounding kind of threatening.
I ignored them all. Just as I was about to turn off my phone, it rang, and without thinking, I answered it.
“It's about time,” someone said.
“Who is this?” I asked.
“Oh, so it's like that? You just take my money and then pretend you don't know who I am?”
“Who is this?” I repeated.
“Who do you think it is?”
“Look, I don't have time for games. Either tell me who this is or I'm hanging up.”
“It's Jeremy. You were supposed to deejay my twenty-first birthday party two weeks ago.”
“Oh,” I said. “Look, I'm real sorry. I have some personal stuff going on right now.”
“Why is that my problem?” he said. “I looked like a fool. I spent all this money on a party and didn't have a DJ the whole weekend.”
“I'll pay you back,” I said, getting ready to hang up.
“I know you will,” he said. “Even if I have to come over to your house and get it myself.”
“You don't know where I live,” I said, laughing to myself.
“You wanna bet?” he said, and rattled off my address.
“How'd you know that?” I asked. I had had him send his money to Loretta's house. Then it hit me. “Loretta gave you my address?”
“Yeah,” he said. “When I couldn't get in touch with you, I called her. She refused at first, but then I offered her a grand, and she told me.”
“Look, I told you I'll get you your money,” I said.
“But can you get me back my reputation? People all over Queens are laughing at me. I had to set up a boom box for my party.”
The image made me laugh, which only made him angrier.
“Oh, so I'm funny to you? Keep on laughing. I'm going to be someone someday, and when I am, I will ruin you.”
“Fine,” I said. “I'm already dead anyway.”
A week later, Kyle talked me into going to the movies. I really didn't want to go, but he insisted it would be good for me to get out of the house. We went to see some comedy that had me laughing so hard my sides hurt. I felt guilty all the way home for having a good time so soon after my brother was gone.
The next morning, Mama came and woke me up.
“How are you doing?” she asked, stroking my hair.
“Okay,” I said.
“I'm glad you went out last night.”
I didn't respond, and I guess she saw the guilt on my face, because she said, “Baby, life has to go on. As hard as it might be for us to move forward, we don't have much of a choice. Derrick wouldn't want us to stop living.”
A tear slid down my face. “Why'd he leave me, Mama?” I asked, clinging to her.
She started crying, too. “I don't know, baby. I don't know.”
“I don't know what I'm feeling. One minute I feel guilty because I was yelling and screaming at him right before it happened, and the next I'm angry at him for not getting a better car. If he wouldn't have been out there fooling around with it, he would still be here with us.”
She stroked my hair. “You can't do this to yourself. Don't beat yourself up, baby.”
“But I didn't even get to tell him I loved him,” I said, crying harder.
“He knows, baby. He knows.”
We sat in silence for a long time, just holding each other. Finally Mama said she was going out for a while, and she asked if I wanted to come, but I wasn't in the mood.
I got up to take a shower, and while I was in the bathroom, I realized I needed to be near my brother. I quickly got dressed and headed to my car, but then I changed my mind and got into Derrick's car and headed to the cemetery.
It was the first time I had been there since my brother had been buried almost a month ago, and it took me a few minutes to find his grave. The marker wasn't in yet, so someone had set up a wooden cross with Derrick's name on it. I sat in the cool dirt and just talked to him for what seemed like hours. It was the best I had felt in weeks.
When I finally looked up, I realized it was starting to get dark, so I headed home.
I went to start Derrick's car, and the engine just sputtered. I couldn't help but laugh. It was like Derrick was playing a joke on me through his stupid car. After a few more tries, the car still wouldn't start, so I called home, happy when Daddy answered.
He promised to come get me, and as I looked around at the cemetery, which seemed to be getting darker by the second, I decided to wait outside the gates. I had seen too many horror movies where bad things happened to people in cemeteries, and I was not trying to be a victim.