Faith Alone Page 5

  Danielle’s assistants brought gorgeous flowers that could only bloom in June. Pictures of Brian and me, Brian and his team, and Brian, alone, were placed behind and beside my chair. They said that we should have the interview here so people would think of Brian the way he lived. They would interview neighbors and of course, talk to a few of the boys who played for Brian.

  “Lachelle. Lachelle.”

  Danielle gently stroked my arm to bring me out of my daze. I turned my focus to her. Danielle Banks was the journalist everyone in D.C. loved. Not only was she pretty, but she was smart. She could interview the mayor and those in the most underserved communities in the city, with respect and compassion.

  “How are you feeling?” Danielle's melodic voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

  "I'm okay, a little nervous but ready."

  Hugging me, she confirmed my thoughts. "You're doing what's best in this situation. You are bringing a personal touch to Brian's story. This plea from you may touch someone's heart to share information that might bring Brian's murderer to justice. Is there anything more you want to share with us? Anything more that you’d like to highlight?"

  Well, I could tell the world that I was about six weeks pregnant. How's that for sympathy? But, I wasn't looking for sympathy. I wanted justice.

  “No, I think you know everything.” “Okay, let's get you mic'd up.”

  The production assistant found the best spot for the microphone on my blouse so the audience wouldn't see it.

  The director yelled, "Five minutes before taping. Everyone in your places."

  Tracy noticed me pulling my earlobe, something I often did when I was nervous. Sitting down next to me, her authoritative voice gave me strength. "You've got this."

  I knew I could do it. I had to do it. Just when we were about to begin the interview, there was a knock at the door. I didn't want to move with the microphone on. Tracy looked at me and nodded toward the door, asking if she should open it.

  Once Tracy opened it, I heard her before I saw her.

  "Tracy," I heard my sister-in-law's greeting. Then her volume increased, and her attitude entered the room before she did. "Gurl, get outta my way. This was my brother's house. I can come in here wheneva I want to."

  I knew Tracy wasn't going to take that laying down, company or no company. I asked the production assistant to take my microphone off.

  Danielle looked worried.

  "I'll be right back. Give me a few minutes, and we can get started."

  Danielle's forced smile told me she was worried. Hurrying past the camera crew, I attempted to step in front of Keisha.

  Key word: attempted.

  When the smell of weed almost knocked me down, I knew this wouldn't go well.

  "What's going on here?" Keisha asked as she surveyed the room.

  I guess Brian’s death wasn’t going to change anything. Saying hello to me seemed to kill her. After looking around the room she turned her head to me and stared me down like I owed her an explanation.

  After twelve years of marriage, I understood that she had no interest in being my friend. So why is she here?

  “What y’all doing?” Keisha asked again, still staring while sitting down next to Danielle, crossing her legs like she was an invited guest.

  “Why don’t you leave, nobody is checking for you,” Tracy said as she stepped closer to the love seat.

  Talking to Tracy, but focusing on me, she declared, “I ain’t going nowhere. You got Brian’s insurance money yet? I know he wanted me to have some.”

  Keisha turned her glance and finally noticed who was sitting next to her. “Ohhh snap, you dat lady that we see on the news all the time.”

  Extending her hand, Danielle’s humbleness filled the room, “Yes, I’m Danielle Banks. How are you?”

  Attempting to make this introduction more formal, I stepped in.

  “Keisha, this is Danielle Banks a friend and a news reporter for NBC. Danielle, this is Keisha, my sister-in-law.” “Yes, I’m Brian’s sister.”

  Before she could say any more, I continued, “We’re taping a segment that will be aired to try to get someone to step up and share any information they may have about the whereabouts of Brian’s murderer.”

  I could tell by the way Keisha’s glazed over eyes started moving that she was thinking. I tried to preempt any crazy thoughts from entering her head.

  “Keisha, do you mind going into the den while we do the interview? It won’t take long. We can talk after it’s over.”

  “I should be in the interview, too. I can talk ‘bout Ma and how this has broken her heart. I know you have something that I can put on.”

  “Gurl, don’t nobody want your stank…”

  “Tracy!” I yelled not only with my voice but with my eyes. “Who you calling stank? I know your track record? You ain’t no better than me,” Keisha shot back, jumping up out of the love seat. In one motion she was in Tracy’s face. No one moved, but everyone’s eyes followed her.

  At this point, I knew the interview wasn’t going to happen today. Keisha wasn’t going anywhere, and the crew had to be someplace else, soon. Danielle had squeezed us into her schedule.

  Tracy, with her hands on her hips and head cocked to the side, begged Keisha to hit her, without saying one word.

  “Tracy and Keisha, please let me talk to Danielle for a minute. Can you both go into the den?”

  Neither of them moved. If they were in the street, a smackdown would’ve already ensued. They knew better in my house.

  “Please y’all, just let me talk to Danielle for a minute.”

  Tracy moved first, stepping to the side so Keisha could go past. Keisha whipped her weave and stomped into the den.

  Exhaling then sitting down next to Danielle, I said, “I don’t think today will be a good day to do this. I appreciate you for encouraging me.”

  “We will do this. I’ll call you in a few days to set something up.”

  We hugged, and I watched as the camera crew packed everything up. I wondered if they were packing up hope of catching Brian’s murderer, too.

  Tracy led Keisha from the den after she heard the door close.

  “Oh, your company left?” Keisha’s sarcasm fell on deaf ears. I decided not to say anything to her because it wouldn’t have been nice.

  As I walked to the staircase that led to my bedroom, I spoke to Tracy. “I’m going upstairs to chill for little while. Tracy please lock the door after Keisha leaves.”

  “Oh! I’ve been put out of better places.”

  Whatever.

  Tracy stayed the night at my house. She fell asleep in the living room watching Real Housewives reruns, all franchises. Not me, though. Leaving Tracy in the living room, I put our popcorn bowls into the sink and tip-toed up the steps to my bedroom, careful not to wake her. I hurried to my closet where I hid Brian’s pillow. It smelled so much like his cologne, still. I hid it so neither Tracy nor Vanessa would wash it, stripping me of Brian’s scent.

  After stepping out of my sweats, I climbed into the bed. My body extended into a long stretch before curling up in a fetal position with Brian’s pillow. I inhaled as much of him as I could. The only light in the room was the red numbers on the clock screaming 12:40 and tomorrow was my first day back to work. I needed to sleep. After I pulled the covers back on his side of the bed, I rolled over and tucked myself in. Sirens cut through the peace of the night. Then there was silence…and Brian.

  He was at that grill in the backyard flipping hamburgers. I ran to him, but with every step I took, he moved farther away. Then he was coaching his team. The faster I ran down the bleachers toward the football field, the farther away he moved. Then he was outside of Ben’s and this time; I ran out of the door. Again, as I ran toward him, the scene moved farther away. Then there was a boom. It caused me to shoot straight up in my bed, but reaching for Brian just like I was in my dream.

  Would this ever end? Maybe I needed to read some scriptures. My Bible stayed inside of the top
drawer of my nightstand. I turned to reach for the handle and slid the drawer open. I pulled it out and flipped the pages hoping a scripture would jump out at me. Nothing did. I couldn’t believe that God would do this to me, taking the love of my life away from me. One minute I was happy, looking forward to the future and the next minute I was questioning what kind of future I would have without Brian.

  I’d never felt this alone and separated from God in my life, not even after Christian died. Maybe I was destined to be alone; no Christian, no Brian and no God.

  I threw the Bible at the foot of my bed. My chest heaved up and down as I moaned and cried into Brian’s pillow. After what seemed like an hour, my eyes commanded my body to sleep because there were no more tears to cry.

  Chapter 9

  The June rain tapping against the window greeted me as I walked into my office. It has been two weeks since Brian was murdered. It was time to go back to work. I needed my paycheck. Like Keisha, people thought because of the reward money posted, that I had received a windfall of insurance money. Not. We didn’t prepare very well for an unexpected tragedy. As a teacher and coach, Brian didn’t make a lot of money, but we made the most of what we had. Working for a non-profit organization had its ups and downs. Most times we got our checks, sometimes we didn’t. When we didn’t, we’d have to wait for funding to come in from various grants and that was rough. Health insurance was expensive through my organization. I thanked God for Obamacare. It paid for everything associated with my pregnancy.

  When I stood in my office, everything looked the same, but nothing was the same. The pictures of Brian and I were situated on my desk and on the bookstands. Rain was the appropriate backdrop.

  I’d decided to arrive early to prevent anyone from seeing me if I broke down. And if I did, I’d just turn around and try it another day. I’d told my supervisor that I’d come in one day this week; I didn’t give her an exact date. Thankfully, she understood and didn’t press me for one.

  Before the spirit of depression was able to put a noose around my neck, the aroma of strong, black coffee whirled around my nose. I wasn’t alone. The only one who made the office coffee was Janis, the lead of our administrative support team. Others would name that job a secretary, but our Executive Director wanted everyone in the organization to know they were a part of the mission of Loving Our Babies. So our organization was broken into various teams, and administrative support was our backbone.

  “Coffee or tea this morning?”

  I dropped the cloth that I’d been using to dust the bookshelf. Although I knew someone was here, Janis’ voice startled me back from my thoughts.

  “I am so sorry. I should’ve rung your phone before I came around.”

  “Gurl, come on in,” I told her as we walked toward each other.

  Her embrace was warm. She allowed me to rest my head on her shoulder and breathe. How did she know that I needed that kind of hug? That was Janis for you. She gave everyone what they needed without having to ask.

  “Sit down, my friend,” I said, waving my arm toward the chair in front of my desk.

  Setting the two cups on the desk, she asked again, “Coffee or tea?”

  “I’ll take the tea. Why are you here at seven-thirty?”

  After taking a sip of what smelled like black coffee from her Wonder Woman mug, Janis said, “Cynthia told me you might come in today. And I know you. If you say, you might do something that is just like saying you will. You follow through on everything. I wanted to see how you were doing before everyone came in and the day started; just like we’re doing now.”

  It was good to have an office friend. I mean, someone who had your back at work that you could trust, who would look out for you, holistically.

  “And you know, I plan to keep folks out of here so that you can ease back into the office slowly. Some of us don’t know what to say to people, and some are just downright messy.”

  Yep. We had some messy ninjas in our office on regular issues. Brian’s death was major, so I understood exactly where she was coming from.

  We talked about the progress of my cases, and of course, she gave me the tea on office gossip. I didn’t mention the pregnancy, although, when I figured this thing out, she would be one of the next in my life to know.

  “Thank you, lady; I needed this four-one-one. Uhmmm, you look like that dress is hanging off of you.”

  Janis had battled weight issues for the entire seven years I had known her. I wanted to compliment her on her weight loss. I knew that our relationship dictated that I could.

  “Chile! I’ve been drinking these green smoothies. I didn’t think I had the willpower to do it, but I’ve been doing them for a few weeks now. When I’m not drinking them for my three meals, I drink one in the morning, and I eat healthy meals for lunch and dinner with small healthy snacks throughout the day. I started going to aqua-fitness classes, too.”

  “You go, girl! I love it. I should join you for those aqua-fitness classes.”

  “I’ll send you the information before the day is over,” she said as she looked at her watch. “Oh, let me get over to my desk before folks start coming in.”

  “You know I’m glad we had a few minutes before the day started. Our talk has given me the umph I needed to get started.”

  Before walking out the door, Janis turned and said, “Don’t stay all day if you don’t feel like it. I didn’t put anyone on your calendar. Don’t. Feel. Pressured.”

  I smiled and mouthed, “Thank you.”

  Music seemed to be in order. Grabbing my cell phone off the desk, I scrolled the playlist. Music would certainly help me get through the barrage of emails that stared me in my face after turning on the computer. I stopped at contemporary gospel, upbeat music. Searching the playlist, I prayed, "Lord speak to me."

  Immediately, Fred Hammond's bass guitar filled the room, and I heard his background singers asking me, "Are you ready for your blessing? Are you ready for your miracle?"

  Let the Praise Begin. Brian and I used to jam off this. He'd pretend to play the bass like a pro, and I'd sing like one of the background singers.

  Okay, Lord. I hear you.

  "It's in your praise. It's in your praise,” Fred’s background singers seemed to scream at me.

  Would it be in my praise? Would I find joy in my praise? Would I find peace of mind in my praise? Would Brian come back in my praise? The dreams, or should I say nightmares, of Brian and I trying to reach each other, but once we got ready to touch, he'd disappear, were horrendous. What I wouldn't give to talk to him one more time.

  While in my thoughts, I heard a light tap on the door. "Come on in."

  Janis stuck her head in. "Sherry called in sick today. We weren't able to contact her first appointment in time."

  The worry on her face told me what she needed. She didn't have to ask. "I'll take her. But I need her..."

  Before I could finish my sentence, Janis slid the client's folder on my desk.

  As the morning rain gave way to the sun, I flipped through the file for Shanita Jones, a young mom pregnant with her second child. Many of our clients came here because they didn’t have insurance to go to an HMO.

  I walked into the waiting area and greeted Ms. Jones. She was alone. She told me that she dropped her youngest off at school before coming into the office.

  As we sat down, I noticed her looking at everything in the office, taking in the pictures especially. I decided to start the conversation before she asked about Brian.

  “Do you want any water or anything? Are you comfortable?”

  Crossing her legs and sitting back in the chair, she told me she had some water while she was waiting and that she felt fine.

  “I see you are about four months pregnant and this is your third time coming into the office.”

  “Yes, I hope Mrs. Brady is okay. I probably just missed her call.”

  “She’s just a little under the weather. But Sherry keeps her files in perfect order, so we have everything we need, rig
ht here,” I said as I held up her folder. “I see that you are up-to- date with all of the appointments we’ve scheduled for you.”

  “Yes, I’m excited. The pregnancy was a surprise. I felt overwhelmed initially. People say ‘aren’t you too young to have two kids and you ain’t married?’ But I go to church, and I know that God wouldn’t give us more than we can bear. My pastor says that all the time.”

  Wow! This young lady was preaching to me, and she didn’t even know it.

  As she pulled out her phone to show me pictures of her three-year-old son, she continued. “My son is my joy. Watching him helps put the hard times out of my mind. He’s the reason I get up every morning. I love my stinka boo.”

  I sat there dumbfounded at first. Yes, I was scared my baby might cause me my life. Yes, I was scared that raising a baby alone was never in my plan. But, as I sat, I could only admire Shanita and see myself in her.

  I responded with, “And you should love that stinka. He is too cute. I won’t keep you longer than I have to. We’ve enrolled you in your parenting classes, and you decided that you want to deliver here.”

  ”Yes, I would like to do the water birth, and they don’t offer that at the hospital. I’ve read so much about it.”

  “Women love it.”

  “And I know that it is never too late to learn better parenting skills.”

  “Never.”

  “So I’m done?”

  “You. Are. Done. Thank you for coming in early this morning. I’ll update your file and talk to Mrs. Brady. But, feel free to schedule your next appointment before you leave with Janis.”

  After I walked her out to the waiting area, I returned to my office and sat down. The joy in her eyes, I couldn’t get my mind off it. I felt a little lighter; the depression that gnawed at me seemed to loosen its grip.

  After spending time with Shanita, I knew where I’d go for lunch. I knew who I had to talk to, as I hadn’t spoken to her in a few weeks. It was time for me to go and talk to First Lady Kendra Smith. She’d help me sort through the conflict that weighed on my heart.