Chapter 9 #3
Tina gave her hand a squeeze. “How about we whip her ass the next time she comes calling?”
Bernadine wiped her eyes and smiled. “Lily’ll be mad if she isn’t invited.”
“Then we’ll make sure we let her know when the time comes.”
“Let’s.”
Gen walked over to their booth. “Was that your witch of a sister who just left?”
“It was.”
“Was she looking to steal another prom date?”
“Close.”
“She didn’t look like she got what she wanted.”
“She wanted to move back in with me, and I told her no.”
“Good. That would be like me divorcing Terence and letting Riley and that pig come back. Stick to your guns.”
“Will do.”
“Good seeing you, Tina.”
“You, too, Gen.”
As Gen left to rejoin her husband, their waiter arrived with their orders. Once all the plates were set before them, he left them to their meal and the two friends settled in for a good time. Tina wouldn’t be flying out until later that evening, so they had plenty of time to catch up on things.
OVER AT THE Academy, Devon wasn’t having a good time.
It was his first day back after missing the past week because of his eye, and he wished he could’ve stayed home for the rest of his life.
None of his friends would talk to him. When he entered Ms. Nori’s class to begin the day, the room went silent, and he didn’t know if it was because of his wrecking the Welcome Circle or from being wig free.
He received a sincere-sounding welcome back from Ms. Nori.
Wyatt and the boys in his crew greeted him with brief nods, but that was it.
The Supremes and Zoey, who had a wrap on her hand, ignored him.
At lunch, he went over to their table to join them.
They didn’t say he couldn’t sit with them, but he might as well have been a ghost. No one said one word to him, except when he asked Zoey about her wrapped-up hand and she said, “I hurt it on your face. Happy?”
When he arrived home, his mom was in the kitchen. She took in his gloomy features and asked, “How was your day?”
“Terrible. Nobody talked to me.” He shrugged off his backpack and sat at the table.
“Sorry to hear that.”
“I know it’s my own fault, but it really hurts.”
“Things will get better. They always do.”
“I’ll be OG’s age before that happens. What am I supposed to do, Mom?”
“Ride it out is all I can suggest.”
“Did you know Zoey hurt her hand when she hit me?”
“Yes. Ms. Roni told me. She bruised some bones. She’ll have to wear the wrap for a week or so.”
“How come nobody told me?”
“It wouldn’t’ve mattered, would it?”
“No, I guess not. She probably can’t play her instruments, which means she’s even madder at me now than she was before.”
His mom didn’t respond.
He sighed aloud.
She did add, “I hate to pile on, but have you started your apology letters?”
He stilled. He’d hoped she’d forgotten about them, but knew she hadn’t. “No.”
“You might want to get going. Now that you can see out of both eyes again, no video games or electronics until you finish.”
“But, Mom . . .” Hadn’t he been punished enough?
“But, Mom, what?”
“Nothing,” he answered resignedly.
“Once you finish them, I’ll drive you over to the Franklin post office so you can put them in the mail.”
“The post office?”
“Do you know how to mail a letter?”
He shook his head.
“If the internet suddenly vanished, your generation would be in a world of hurt.”
“Why can’t I just give people my letters?”
“Because you need to know how to mail a letter. Killing two birds with one stone, here, Devon.”
He sighed again. “Why does everything have to be a lesson?”
“So you can function as an adult and take care of yourself when you get older. You and your brother aren’t living here with me and your dad for the rest of your life. You can forget that.”
The way she said it made him smile for the first time that day, and she smiled in reply.
“I’m just saying,” she added.
“Okay. Will you show me what to do at the post office?”
“Of course. I also have a list of addresses of everyone you need to send a letter to. Do you need help remembering who was in the Circle?”
“Probably.”
“Then we can do that after dinner.” She walked to the fridge and took out a juice box, which she tossed to him, and a bag of carrots that she emptied into a pot. “I do like the new haircut.”
“I do too.”
“Honestly, you look so much better without the wig.”
“I know.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t sure which me looked the best, me with the wig or without the wig, so I took some selfies and put them side by side.”
“And?”
“I looked like a doofus in that wig. I can’t believe I thought it was sick.”
She smiled.
“I know everybody tried to tell me, but . . . I didn’t want to be me, I guess. I wanted to be a preacher, then I wanted to be Amari, because who doesn’t want to be like him, but mostly—” He stopped and looked away. Pain and tears welled up.
She asked softly, “Mostly what, baby?”
He swiped at the moisture and searched for how to express himself. “Mostly, I didn’t want to be the kid without my grandma, or the one who might grow up and hurt somebody like that man hurt my mom, Rosalie.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” She walked over, took him in her arms, and hugged him tight. Finding comfort in the protection of her love, he let the tears slide down his cheeks. Since learning of the monstrous circumstances surrounding his birth, he’d been terrified at the prospect.
“You’re never going to be that person,” she whispered. “Ever.” Eyes glistening, she viewed him and asked, “Have you talked to Reverend Paula about this?”
He nodded. “A little. She said we can talk some more when I’m ready.”
“Good.” She eased him close again, and they held on to each other in the silence. After a few more moments, she placed a solemn kiss on his forehead, stepped back, and reached for the box of tissues on the counter. She handed him a few and pulled out some for herself.
“Why is growing up so hard?” he asked.
“I don’t know, babe, but we all go through it and somehow survive. You will, too, especially having Rev Paula to talk with.”
He desperately wanted to believe her.
“Your dad and I are here for you too.”
“Are you going to tell him about what I said?”
“Yes. Because he loves you, and he’d be hurt knowing you’re going through something and no one told him. Also, he’s a guy and can maybe help you figure stuff out from a guy’s perspective. Reverend Paula and I can’t do that.”
He thought he understood.
“I won’t tell your brother, though. What you share or don’t share with him is up to you.”
He appreciated that and thought maybe one day he and Amari would be able to talk about such serious things. Something else had been weighing on his mind. “Do you think the police will ever find the man that did that to Rosalie?”
“I don’t know. We all know she’s owed justice, but it’s been thirteen years . . . However, anything is possible.”
“I keep hoping.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Can I ask you one more thing?”
She smiled affectionately. “Sure.”
“Did you ever want to be somebody else?”
“Yes. Right after my mom died of cancer.” She paused for a moment as if thinking back.
“I was in high school, so just a little bit older than you are now. Losing her was just so awful, and I didn’t want to be the girl with no mom.
I wanted my life to go back to being the way it used to be.
Then I moved to Henry Adams to live with Ms. Marie, because she and my mom were best friends and I didn’t have any other family. ”
“Just like me.”
“Yes, just like you. I became friends with Ms. Nori, I joined the track team and met your dad, and started winning meets all over the state, and my attitude about myself changed. And do you know what I learned?”
He shook his head.
“The only person I could be was me, and it was okay. Of course, it took years for the pain of losing my mom to soften, and it still hurts, but we can only be ourselves, Devon—everybody else is taken. Does that make sense?”
“It does.”
“You have a bright, wonderful future ahead. That doesn’t mean it will be perfect—you’ll hit a bunch of speed bumps on the way like this Zoey mess, but there’ll be tons of joy, too, and that joy is what’s going to get you through.”
He really wanted to believe that too.
“Anything else on your mind?” she asked, her voice kind.
“No. I think I’m okay. Thanks for talking to me, Mom.”
“Anytime.”
Feeling better than he had when he first arrived home, he gathered up his juice box and possessions, and climbed the stairs to his room.
Henry Adams Heaven
Had the ghostly spirits of the Three Spinsters been capable of tears, they would’ve wept for Devon.
“Oh my word,” Lucretia whispered emotionally. “Imagine having to come to terms with the violence that caused your birth, and then wonder if you’ll grow up and commit the same heinous deed.”
“That’s an awful heavy burden for a young person to carry,” Daisy pointed out.
“Who knew he had all that roiling inside?” Rachel asked. “It makes you want to set aside the drama he’s been causing and hold him close and tell him over and over how much he’s loved.”
Daisy concurred. “So true. My heart just aches for him.”
Lucretia added, “And Lily responded well. Using her own life experience to offer him guidance was a godsend. As were her words on finding joy.”
Rachel offered her opinion. “With the passage of time and the help of Reverend Paula and his parents, I think he’ll eventually sort things out and be okay. What he’s carrying inside isn’t something he’ll ever get over, but he will get through it.”
Daisy and Lucretia agreed.
AFTER DINNER, DEVON began the work on the letters. First, he and his mom made a list of all the people he needed to send apologies to. There were a lot of names.
“So, what do I write?” he asked.
“What are you apologizing for?”
“Wrecking the ceremony.”
“How did you wreck it? What words would you use?”
He didn’t want to revisit that night. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Think about it and be truthful. Were you rude and disrespectful?”