We Rip the World Apart

Evelyn Toronto

Evelyn

Toronto

2004

More than half the seats in the small restaurant were filled, the air heavy with laughter and the sweet, warm scent of baked goods. Evelyn sat in a booth by the window. She’d arrived almost ten minutes early and stood in front of the cash, not knowing whether to buy something for the girl, fearful of making the wrong choice. So instead she sat, nothing in front of her, her hands folded on the table, then on her lap, then back on the table again.

When Deja stepped through the door, a half-open backpack slung over one shoulder and a jean jacket tied around her slim waist, Evelyn stood and waved, nerves tingling.

“Sorry, so sorry.” Deja rushed over. “I thought I’d be here early, but my boss, he’s like, the worst.” She bit the side of her lip, smiled, shy and awkward. Beautiful, too. Evelyn hadn’t noticed at the funeral. But behind her bedraggled clothes, which Evelyn imagined were a conscious choice, wild hair that spread around her face in gravity-defying curls, and an alarming amount of black eyeliner, this girl was gorgeous. The instant the thought arrived, another one joined it—what had Deja meant when she said she and Antony were close? Like a movie before her eyes, Evelyn saw a different life. This girl showing up at their door, sitting at their table, laughing with Antony, the two of them curling up on the couch, arm in arm. Years down the road, a wedding. Grandchildren. Evelyn blinked, gave her head a little shake, and replaced the smile she’d let slip off her face.

“No need to apologize. I’m just so glad you came!” Evelyn gestured to the front. “What can I get you? Anything you want. My treat.”

“No. Oh, no!” The girl waved a hand in front of her face, her tan skin flushing slightly. “That’s okay.”

Evelyn leaned forward, smile firm. “I insist. Thirsty? Hungry? Both? Whatever you like.”

“Okay. Well…” Deja shifted her bag strap higher on her shoulder. “Maybe a black coffee and an everything bagel with cream cheese and tomato. If that’s not too much. The tomato is extra.”

Evelyn’s heart seized, her smile transitioning to something genuine. “That’s not too much at all. Just a minute.” She stood in line, then glanced back at the table. Deja had plopped onto the bench, her backpack spread across the table, her head in her hands. The girl looked exhausted. Overwhelmed. Evelyn snapped her head to the cash, not wanting to risk being caught staring. She placed her order, getting the same as Deja, and adding a box of Timbits to share, as well as two bottles of water.

Minutes later, she set the food down as Deja raised her head, straightened her spine. “Thanks so much, Mrs. Jackson.” Deja unwrapped the bagel and was about to take a bite when she set it back down again. “Oh, God. I didn’t even… I’m sorry, you know? So sorry for your loss.”

“You said it,” said Evelyn. “At the funeral.”

“Oh, yeah, well.” Deja looked down. “I think it…like, bears repeating.”

“You knew him well?”

Deja kept her head down.

“Deja?”

A sound like a rodent’s squeal escaped from her lips. “God. Sorry.” She raised her face, tears sliding down her cheeks. She rubbed those cheeks with her fists, so childlike. Evelyn wanted to cross to the other side of the booth, take the girl in her arms. But she sat still, fearful that if she followed her instincts, she’d embarrass the girl, or worse, cause her to clam up.

“We weren’t, like…you know…he wasn’t my boyfriend. But I think, maybe soon, he would have been. I hoped, anyway.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“God!” Deja exclaimed. “Don’t pity me, okay? I’m just some silly girl, falling in love with a boy I’m not even sure felt the same way…but, well…”

“I’m sure he would have been lucky to have you.”

Deja let out a sad little laugh.

“He was shy,” said Evelyn. “When it came to girls, anyway. It took a lot for him to work up the courage to ask a girl out.”

Deja’s face scrunched, as if not believing Evelyn.

“It’s true.” And it was. Though not because of a simple lack of confidence. If the girl were Black, Antony would fear she’d think him not Black enough; if she were white, that she was merely interested in the thrill of “stepping out,” as Antony had referred to it more than once. Deja’s skin wasn’t much darker than Antony’s, but Evelyn doubted she was mixed race. Antony would have mentioned it, as he often did when learning of someone like him. There were so few.

“I know he seemed confident,” said Evelyn. “But not when it came to that.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

Deja lowered her head, biting the side of her lip again. “Not that it matters now.” She looked up, her eyes still moist. “I’m sorry. This isn’t meant to be about me. What, exactly, did you want to know? Just like, about Antony?”

“Yes,” said Evelyn. “But, more specifically, about that night. The night he…” She wanted to say was murdered , but if Deja was anything like the others, she’d been warned off, too. “The night he died.”

“Oh. Uh…” Deja shifted in her seat. “That.”

“You said, at the funeral, that what the police said wasn’t true. That Antony hadn’t been acting aggressive. That he hadn’t reached for anything in his pocket. Hadn’t lunged forward.”

She nodded.

“I want to fight this,” said Evelyn. “I want to let people know the truth.”

Deja’s face scrunched again—in what looked like fear. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Of course you should—”

“I couldn’t see. I mean, I was lying on the ground.”

“But you said…”

She leaned forward, her voice a whisper. “I tried, too. I went in. Told the police what the news was saying wasn’t true. That that’s not what happened. They put me in a room with a couple of the officers who…” She trembled. “And another one, too, who wasn’t even there that night. They told me I didn’t know what I was talking about. That I was on the ground. That I couldn’t see.”

“But you did see.”

Deja looked to the ceiling, her lips tight and twisted. She returned her gaze to Evelyn. “The officers said I was wrong, confused. That from where I was lying, there was no way I could have seen what happened. They said they’d testify to that if I tried to make any trouble.”

Evelyn leaned forward, her hand inches from the girl’s, anger and frustration brewing—at the officers. For this girl. “Did they threaten you, Deja?”

“I don’t know. Kind of. Yeah…they’re cops, okay. Their word is law. And obviously, we’re trying to fight that. Or we were. But if I say one thing and they say another, who’s going to listen to me?”

“The media?” said Evelyn. “A judge?”

Deja shook her head. “I act like I’m all big. Out there protesting, marching, planning. But I’m just a kid. I still live with my parents. My mom needs me. To finish school, to help more with the expenses. I’ve got three little brothers, and my dad walked out a couple of years ago. I can’t go making waves. Not those kinds of waves, anyway.” Deja stopped. Swallowed. “They knew my brothers’ names. Each of my brother’s names.”

Evelyn nodded, wanting to press, wanting to shake this girl, tell her she should make waves. For Antony. That she should bring a tsunami down on the whole police and judicial system, if that’s what it took. But she was just a girl. A child, really.

Burying her disappointment, Evelyn unwrapped her bagel and smiled at Deja. “Then why don’t you tell me good things. How did you and Antony meet? What was it about him that caught your interest?”

Deja’s smile shone through fresh tears. She took a sip of her coffee, then began.

Several days later, Evelyn answered her door. Dani stood, Asher beside her, an uncertain smile on her face. “Playground?”

Kareela ran toward the door, squeezing around Evelyn’s hip. “Yes, Mama! Can we, please?” She looked up at Evelyn, eyes aglow.

Evelyn put a hand to Kareela’s chin, caressed it, then looked to Dani, unrestrained irritation in her voice. “I guess we’re going to the playground.”

The women walked in silence as the children chattered, several steps ahead of them.

“You haven’t returned my calls,” said Dani, once they’d crossed over the street and stepped onto the park grounds.

Evelyn inhaled.

“I’m sorry about Charles.” Dani reached for Evelyn’s hand, grasped it.

“It wasn’t just Charles.” Evelyn sat down on a bench, taking the excuse to pull her hand away.

Dani gave an embarrassed smile. “How are you?”

“How do you think?”

Dani sat silent beside Evelyn as the children shouted and laughed. “Are you still…trying? Charles called Kingsley the other day—”

“He what?” Evelyn snapped her gaze to Dani. “Why?”

“To see how you all were. Since I wasn’t getting through. Kingsley didn’t sound good.”

“He’s not.”

“He said all you do is look at old archives on Antony’s computer. Cases. That he suspects you’re at the library in the day, looking up papers. That you come home with ink on your fingers.”

Evelyn slipped her hands under her purse, surprised Kingsley had noticed.

“I know it’s hard. I mean, I don’t know. How could I? But I imagine. And I get why you would want justice. An answer other than this being a horrible misunderstanding. An honest mistake.”

“An honest mistake is giving someone the wrong change. Not shooting them four times.”

“I know. That’s not what I meant. It was more than a mistake.”

Evelyn returned her gaze to the children, but she could imagine Dani’s expression. The pinched lips, the tight brow.

“I talked to Charles more about it. Tried to convince him that maybe it was worth, well, a try. He said if it were, he’d try. But that this isn’t something one man could take on, one family. That it would take multiple complaints with the money and the manpower of a whole firm. And even then, it could take years, decades, to make a lasting change. To get true justice for Antony. And during that time, it’d be horrible. For you. Your family. For anyone who went along with you.”

“He makes it sound like I’d be up against the mob.”

“No.” Dani let out a strangled chuckle. “From how he talks, the mob isn’t nearly as powerful.”

“Listen, Dani—”

“No. You listen.” Dani shifted toward Evelyn. “I know this is the absolute worst thing that could have happened. And I can’t even imagine your pain. But this, throwing yourself into this lost cause instead of processing the tragedy, letting yourself grieve? It’s not going to help you. It’s not going to help Antony. And it’s not going to help that little girl over there.”

Dani stopped, huffed, as if debating whether to continue. “Sometimes bad things happen, and sometimes there’s no clear reason why, nothing we could have done to prevent it and nothing we can do afterward to make it right. So all we can do is move forward, as best we can, try to believe there is still good in the world. Because there is.” She gestured to Kareela again. “She’s got to be your reason now. Not trying to launch a case against an entire system.”

Evelyn opened her mouth to speak, but Dani held up her hand.

“I get it. I get why you’re doing it. And if I were in your shoes, maybe I would try, too. But not being in your shoes, being able to see it from the outside—Evelyn, this mission you’re on, as much as I wish it weren’t, is a battle you’re destined to lose. And even if, by some miracle, you won, you’d lose so much else in the process. You just need to keep living. You can’t use this impossible fight as a distraction to hide from the pain. So, please. Stop.”

Evelyn kept her gaze on the children, laughing as they chased each other, the happiest, freest, she’d seen her daughter in weeks. Her daughter, who was not the reason she should stop, but, as much as Antony, the reason to keep on. Evelyn spoke slowly, to give Kareela more time. She wouldn’t be seeing her friend again soon. Maybe ever. She turned her head toward Dani, the loss already pulling at her throat. “You’re wrong about so much.” Her voice wavered. She pushed her shoulders back and held her words steady. “This wasn’t a hurricane or a malfunctioning car leading to an accident. There are reasons why it happened, and it could have been prevented.” She stopped, saying an internal goodbye to the years of laughter and commiseration…of friendship. “I can’t bring Antony back, but maybe I can set a precedent, prevent this from happening again. Maybe I can bring Antony justice and make him proud.” She turned her face and stood. “Kareela, time to go.”

“But we just got here!”

“Evelyn.” Dani reached for her hand. She pulled it away.

“Kareela. Now.”