The Case Manager

by Latoya Chandler

  “I don’t have much time. I have been asking for you and the girls to come up here because I wanted to see your beautiful faces one last time.”

  “Don’t talk like that. Please, Ms. Nancy. You never know what can happen. We have to be positive. That’s what you taught us, to find the beauty in everything.” Tears fell from my eyes.

  “I knew you were listening.”

  “To every word, even when I couldn’t stand you. God knows I am so much stronger and saner today because of you.”

  Placing her hand on mine as tears ran down her deteriorating face, she confessed, “I haven’t been what I should have been to you girls, and I am sorry for not being there for you like I should have.”

  “You have no reason to be sorry. It’s not your fault that you’re sick, Ms. Nancy.”

  “I believe it is my fault and a punishment from God.”

  “You’re talking crazy. You said God doesn’t cause harm, so why would He afflict you?”

  “You know that I was married, and my husband left me years before I officially opened Hope House?”

  “No. You never told us you were ever married. We all actually thought you turned into a nun after your son passed.”

  “I was married for three years. He almost bled me dry, stealing money from me to care for his mistress and their daughter. He was a little younger than me, so I should have known. But love is blind.”

  “Wow, Ms. Nancy. I had no idea. I am so sorry.” I played along, assuming she was more than likely in her final hours and was probably hallucinating.

  “You have no need to be,” she said supportively as tears completely covered her frail countenance.

  “We don’t have to talk about this. You don’t need to work yourself up. Just like you’ve always told us to do, leave the past where it is unless you’re going to do something about it to help restore and repair your future. Reliving that isn’t going to do anything but reinjure you.”

  Witnessing her struggle between words melted my heart even more. I tried to change the subject and feed her some of the words of wisdom she’d serve us on countless occasions.

  “You sound like someone I once knew. I just ask that you find it in your heart to forgive me.”

  “Ms. Nancy, please stop. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

  “I do. I didn’t protect you girls. I was so hurt and upset and assumed a woman of color took my husband. Even when I found out I was wrong, I continued to turn a blind eye and allowed my brothers to abuse you girls. I heard them up there with you girls. I would cry myself to sleep. Your pain became my pain, and I still ignored it. I am so sorry. I was wrong,” she wept.

  Like a domino effect, her confession injected a burning rage that hissed throughout my body like deathly poison as I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want to believe this lady knew. I had to convince myself she was oblivious to all of it. My gut knew better, but I ignored it and made excuses for her. The more I processed her words, my chest grew tighter and tighter into a knot like a cramp as fury assembled itself inside of me. Wrath penetrated and consumed me like a volcano erupting. Fury bounced off of me like barbaric ripples, causing me to lose control and see black.

  “What the fuck you mean you knew, Ms. Nancy? What the fuck do you mean you knew? How could you? You hateful, miserable bitch.” I cried uncontrollably, punching her in her fragile chest.

  “I’m so sor—”

  “Miss, please stop! What are you doing?” a hospital staff member shouted as she and one of her colleagues tussled trying to restrain me.

  “Get the hell off me! I’m going to be the cancer that kills this bitch,” I howled, freeing myself from their grip, running back over to let off another round of blows on Ms. Nancy.

  The sudden buzzing of gadgets and equipment in a symphony of sounds snapped me out of my rage. I took a step back and glared at Ms. Nancy’s unresponsive frame. What had I done? I had no control over myself. The more I stood there, the angrier I was becoming. My chest was heaving up and down. Sweat was starting to make my vision blurry.

  “Code blue!” someone yelled as a horde of people rushed in the room. Doctors and nurses buzzed around Ms. Nancy, frantic, speaking in high-pitched voices. Then silence filled the air as one of the gadgets signaled a steady beep: flatline.

  Realizing what was happening before my eyes, my heart pounded at record speed, causing me to panic. Seeing what I thought I’d done, I turned around and bolted out of the room to the beat of my feet racing over the hard floor. Sweat beaded on my forehead, causing my hair to cling to it as my throat ached for air, more air. With no plan in sight, I ran at breakneck speed as I felt Paul, Anthony, Mr. Frankie, and Shakita, along with Ms. Nancy’s death, chasing me.

  I continued running until I was stopped dead in my tracks. My living nightmare: Hope House. How did I get there?

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Poison: A Brother’s Hurt

  Paul

  “I am so sorry. I am going to make things right. You won’t have to grow up without a dad like everyone else. I just wanted to talk to your mom. I’ll get my chance to be what you need. I promise not to allow harm to come near you. I will protect you.”

  “Paul! What the hell are you doing in here? Why are you talking to those kids’ picture? Did you just kiss that picture?”

  “N . . . no, I didn’t. I . . . I was just checking to see if the toilet was working again, and the photo fell and came out of the frame. I was just putting it back.”

  “You’re full of shit. I heard you crying to that picture. ‘I’m sorry. I love you. I want to sniff your dirty diapers. I’m a coward of a police officer. Boohoo, I think I am your dad.’”

  “I never said those things, Anthony.”

  “You really think you’re those kids’ dad and you’re proud of it, Paul? Are you losing your freaking mind? No matter what, those girls never willingly gave us anything. So, if you walk around here trying to be the father of those freaking kids, you’ll have your piece and badge stripped from you and end up behind bars, asshole.”

  “No one said I was trying to be their father. But you never know. I could be. You could be, Anthony. Have you ever sat back and thought about that possibility, or are you so mad at the world that you cannot think straight?”

  “You idiot! How can you be the father? When is the last time you touched her? You stopped because you still craved Greg’s touch. I’m no idiot. You turned gay, Paul,” he taunted, knocking everything off the dressers.

  I was immobile, unable to move or speak as if my vocal cords had been severed and I’d been cemented to the carpeted floor. Although I had denied it to myself on countless occasions, Anthony was right. Had I turned gay? Had I always been gay? From my youth, I recalled suffering from a mix of fascination, allure, and dislike. I had dismissed those feelings as being a juvenile attraction, and I blamed them on Father Whyte. Over time I had convinced myself that my feelings were the result of the demons I’d been battling with because of those same demons Father Whyte inflicted on me. That included the times I’d had peculiar feelings about guys and masculinity. I would deny them, because during those times we’d been with the girls, I’d found myself stimulated with them.

  However, my physical attraction toward guys was undeniable, no matter how hard I’d try to fight them off. It’d feel like fireworks emerging from the depths of my soul almost all of the times that I’d been with Anthony, or when I’d picture some of the guys from the job, perps, or merely men I’d pass by throughout the day. My passion for Greg, on the other hand, was something different, I couldn’t get him off of my mind. Again, I’d convince myself to believe the attraction was due to the fact that I could talk to him about anything. I had never admitted openly or to myself how I felt about him. Hearing Anthony bash me about my hidden truth pushed forth a familiar trace of fear. I recognized it because what I was feeling was the same fear Greg expressed he’d constantly battled with. His words were resurrecting before me, and it frightened me severely. I coul
dn’t arrest it or anything. I had to face it, because it had been pulled out and pushed in front of me, causing me to freeze where I stood as Anthony mocked me.

  “Poor Paul. You are not the father,” he continued to scoff at me, throwing the photographs at me.

  “Stop, please stop,” I mustered up a whisper.

  “Now you sound like the little girl you are. ‘Stop, please stop.’ How did my little brother, the big-time cop, turn into a fag?”

  We’d been told on many occasions during our childhood that sticks and stones may break one’s bones, but words would not hurt. But the “fag” word sure did. So much so that I suddenly became lock and loaded with violent behavior. My form began to exude an animosity like acid. It burned through my pores, and I seethed with anger. Anthony had to be taught a lesson. I reached for my pistol and detected I hadn’t been wearing it. So I leaped toward him and wrapped my hands around his neck.

  As my hands slid around his throat, his eyes widened in surprise. I tightened my grip as Anthony started to scrabble. I could feel his pulse drumming as if he were a frightened rabbit. The thrill felt so good. I laughed aloud maniacally and tightened my grip. Anthony was doing everything in his power to fight back. His nails began to dig into my skin, causing my grip to loosen. Without warning, my hands released their grip to go down and cup my testicles out of reflex. Anthony’s knee struck me so hard that it felt as if he had ripped my guts out through my balls.

  “Oh, God,” I cried out.

  Gasping for air with rage in his eyes, Anthony threatened, “I am going to give you something to call God for,” with a sharp, swift kick to my midsection.

  Without notice, his fist connected with my face. My head was splitting, and the room was spinning wildly, and I gave into the pain and dropped to my knees.

  “Right where I want you,” he recognized, smearing a soiled diaper into my face. “Take those britches off. You deserve a skirt,” he ridiculed, yanking my trousers down. “I am going to treat you like the little girl you are,” he threatened.

  Unable to see any longer, because he had my face pushed into the bed, I heard the familiar sound of his belt unbuckling prior to him ramming himself into my backside.

  “Please stop,” I screamed in agony.

  “You sick bastards,” was the last thing I heard as I was struck in the head.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Reunited: Sister-Sister

  Candice

  “Candice, I cannot believe it is you.” Jenna made a fuss, touching my face as if she were trying to see if I was real.

  My eyes were wide in shock as I took in the figure in front of me, a figure almost identical to the image and frame I once modeled. My mouth was closed tightly as my body trembled nervously. I tried to say something but couldn’t find the words. Short, harsh gasps escaped my lips the moment they parted.

  “We thought you were dead.” She burst out in tears.

  Clearing my throat, I asked, “Dead?”

  “Your mother told everyone, including Dad, that you passed away during childbirth. She even has an urn with your ashes over the fireplace. That sick, twisted witch.”

  “What? That is insane. I am confused. If you were told I was dead, how did you know it was me when you saw me?”

  “I found a picture of you in the bottom of her drawer. When I asked about you, she lost it. It was a photo of you pregnant. You were sitting at a table, eating with other girls. The girl you were just with was in the picture as well.”

  “How is that possible? How did she get a picture of me? I am extremely confused.”

  “You can imagine how I feel right now looking at you. When I saw you come into the room, I thought I’d seen a ghost. But when you started speaking, I knew my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.”

  “My head is spinning right now. All of this is crazy. My heart is bleeding. Why did she say I was dead, of all things? Well, she treated me as if I were, so I assume it was easy for her to do so.”

  “I have no idea how she got the picture. When I showed it to her and asked about it, she became angry. She began to taunt me, saying I’d end up pregnant and die during childbirth if I didn’t do as she said. She said she tried with you, but you rebelled.”

  “This is awful and so hurtful. Why? Why would she say those things? I am so numb right now that I can’t even cry. I assume Dad went along with the lie?”

  “I don’t think he did. When Mother told him about you, he broke down and hasn’t been the same since.”

  “I am not sure how much of that I believe. He stood there and let her ship me here, and I have yet to hear a word from him. Oh, I forgot, I am dead.” I shook my head in disbelief.

  “Dad seems genuine, Candice. I really don’t think he’s going along with anything.”

  “You don’t know him like I do, clearly, and how did you come about? I never heard of you prior to today.”

  Jenna went on to explain how my dad appeared to be a ladies’ man. He’d threatened to move out if Mother didn’t take her in. He said he refused to lose or throw away another child. They later found out he had a whole other family and had kids around the same age as both of us. Mother had been even angrier since learning the news. She refused to leave him. Instead, Jenna confirmed, she continued to blame me for her life’s failures.

  “It was easy for her to blame me and to pronounce me dead. I have always been dead to her,” I said tearfully.

  “Well, you are here and alive. I am so glad that I found you. I guess everything happens for a reason, because look at us now. Of all places, I run into you here while I am doing my residency to become a doctor.”

  “What’s shocking is she didn’t persuade you to become a lawyer. That’s her plan for everyone else.”

  “Well, I wasn’t planned, and I was forced on her, so she resented the air I took in and the ground I walked on.”

  “God knows I am familiar what that statement.”

  “Either way, I didn’t want to become a lawyer. When I was old enough to make up my mind, my dream was to become a doctor in honor of you and my birth mom. My mom worked as a housekeeper for wealthy families. When I was sixteen, shortly after signing me over to Dad, she fell down the stairs in one of the homes and hit her head. Four days later she passed away due to bleeding on her brain.”

  “I am so sorry to hear that.”

  “Thank you. I now think Mom is in a better place. She had just found out about you, the twins, and Mother. She would have probably died of a broken heart eventually anyway.”

  “I understand. You also said in my honor? Please explain.”

  “As I said, Mother said you passed while giving birth. I wanted to become a doctor to help women like you and my mom and just save lives period.”

  “Wow.” I sniffled. “I am so upset that she buried you alive. Sometimes I hate the ground that evil woman walks on. She is a hurt, wounded woman, and I am determined to live my life to the fullest no matter what.”

  “She is miserable. I was so pressed with making her happy that I hated myself. She will probably keel over and die when she finds out I found you or ran into you. Dad is going to lose it. He blames himself daily and is so depressed because of it.”

  I became speechless, as I had been experiencing difficulty processing all that Jenna was saying about Dad. He sat there, not saying one word. Not once did he try to talk Mother out of it. His initial response to her suggestion was noted. However, he didn’t try hard enough. Instead, the weak-kneed, feeble man I’d known him to be remained present. Of course, his defense of it all was I’d been sent away in order for me to get the education that I needed in efforts to assist me with entering motherhood. If that was really the case, why hadn’t he tried to reach out to me once? He turned his back on me the same way Mother had. Jenna said he ended up on suicide watch after learning of my “passing.” That was his guilt, and it had nothing to do with me.

  “How is he doing now?”

  “Better, but extremely sad. Seeing you will bring
his joy back.”

  “The feeling wouldn’t be mutual.” I cut my eyes at her. “I notice you too refer to her as Mother.”

  “Mommy is a name for children who are wanted, not ones who are unplanned and created in adultery.”

  The moment Jenna recited the phrase Mother used to verbally assault me, a shudder ran though my body. I could most definitely recall some of those words with a few additional ones verbatim.

  “That hateful woman.” I paused, wiping the tears from my eyes. “She physically, verbally, and mentally abused me and then shipped me off for another dose of abuse.”

  “Abuse? What are you talking about? We are not losing you this time. I will hurt someone for harming you. I don’t have anyone except Dad. I refuse to lose you and we just officially met.”

  “You’re so sweet.” I smirked.

  “I am so serious. Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course. You can ask me anything.”

  “How do you know Ms. Nancy?”

  “The day Casey and Cassidy were born was the day that I found out I was pregnant. When Mother caught wind, she had me sent to Hope House, which is a home that houses teen moms. Ms. Nancy runs Hope House. She literally opened her home to us strangers.”

  “Oh, my God!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Ms. Nancy kept going on about not protecting the girls in the house and said something about sitting back and allowing things to happen to them. She said she wanted to make it right. Was she talking about you?”

  When the words Jenna said registered, my stomach began to roil. My heart raced wildly, and I felt breathless. How could Ms. Nancy be that heartless? The question screamed in my head. With tears running down my cheek, images of all of the times Anthony and Paul raped me flashed before me. Learning Ms. Nancy knew added a new image of her standing there watching. I began to feel like I was being raped all over again, but by Ms. Nancy this time. The more Jenna spoke, I could feel something surge from my gut and into my throat, causing bile to fill my mouth. Without further notice, I disgorged into an adjacent garbage can.