by RJ Pritchett
I reached for the glove compartment and immediately paused when I noticed that from the corner of my eye, he put his hand on his gun. I didn’t move a muscle.
“Please, can you let us go?” Clara said, tears streaming down her face, “Our son is-”
“Shut up!” the police officer said, “This whole thing is your fault anyway. You got him into this.”
“Watch your mouth when talking to my wife,” I said stern, but calm.
“License and registration please?” he sighed.
“I’m trying to reach for my license and registration right now, but I’m gonna need you to remove your hand from that gun,” I said, still not moving anything but my lips.
“I don’t know that,” the officer kept his hand firmly on his gun, “you could be looking to grab a gun of your own, so you can shoot me.”
“I don’t even have a gun. Can you take your hand off of your gun, Sir? I’m trying to comply with you so that we both can just go about our business faster.”
“You’re not the one who should be barking orders. Show your damn papers, or you’ll be in the hospital too,” this motherfucker had the audacity to say.
“I’ll get it,” Clara shouted, reaching for the glovebox. She opened it without a word from the officer, handed it to me slowly, and I handed him the papers. She also reached into my wallet for me to give him my actual license even though he was already holding a photocopy of it. She handed him my license and he walked back to his car while his two quiet henchmen kept watching us.
“I really can’t believe this shit,” I said while a single tear rolled down my eye.
“Just try to calm down, Baby,” Clara was breathing heavy, “we see how this guy is. We saw this movie before… it won’t end well if you tempt him. Just… try to… survive.”
The asshole cop came back shining that bright ass flashlight in my eyes while passing me back my license and registration. “No warrants, surprisingly. I guess she keeps a good leash on you,” he smiled at Clara, but his facial expression changed when he looked down to see her wedding ring, “We need to do a breathalyzer. Make sure you’re not driving under the influence.”
“What the f-?” I pounded my fists on the steering wheel. He touched his gun, taunting me at this point. “I’m not drunk,” I calmed down once Clara tightened her grip on my arm, “I don’t drink at all.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the cop said, motioning one of his stooges to their car. “Just following protocol. It’s 11:12 pm, you were speeding when everybody and their goddamn mother knows that this is a 35 mph zone and you were doing close to 60. Alcohol would explain that, cause logic damn sure won’t.”
“I’m rushing to get to the hospital. My son is there. He’s in trouble.”
“He ain’t the only one in trouble,” the cop shrugged.
I took the breathalyzer test and passed. By the time it was over, I wanted to kill this man. This man didn’t care about my son at all. He showed no compassion or sympathy throughout this whole experience with full knowledge of the situation I was in. He seemed to take joy in my misfortune. Kicking me while I was down. I want to beat the shit out of this clown right now, but I know that’s not the smart move right now. That would give this clown a reason to put a bullet in my brain. It’ll be justified because it’s gonna be looked at as self-defense too. Let’s face it, I could comply with this man’s every order and still could end up with a bullet. He didn’t like me, and it was apparent.
“You know what, Vinny boy. Because I’m such a nice guy, I’ll let you off with a warning,” he said with a smile.
“What? Ser-?”
“On one condition,” he bellowed, holding one finger up, “get out of the car.”
“Don’t do it,” Clara’s voice was trembling, and her face was soaked with tears, “do not listen to him.”
“What’s it gonna be, Vinny?”
“I ain’t leaving this damn car,” I said, turning my head to the other two cops as well, “I don’t trust you, I don’t trust the motherfuckers that are with you. Can you please just give me my speeding ticket, and let me go to my… fucking… son?” I finished that question through gritted teeth. I couldn’t force myself to mask my anger.
“Okay, suit yourself. I was just going to give you a hug, and possibly offer my condolences and all. You see, I hear there was this little party, and gunshots went off, a couple of officers went to investigate, shots were fired, two teenage boys were hit- both taken to the hospital. Might it be the same hospital that your son is in?”
My hands gripped the steering wheel as tight as they could. He noticed this and shook his head while letting out a heavy sigh. “You know what? You’re going through enough. Get your ass to the hospital, Vinny boy,” he said, ripping the speeding ticket that he wrote for me, “just… obey traffic rules. See, I’m a nice guy after all? Aren’t I?”
“Thanks,” I said, putting the car into drive and went on my way. Clara let out a mixture of a sigh of relief and a sob while I glared at the waving officer growing smaller and smaller through my rearview mirror.
I really don’t want to relive these next few moments in my life. Long story short, my son had been shot. The doctors tried to save him. They say he was fighting his hardest. He was clinging to life for a very long time, but he ended up passing away shortly before we arrived. Never in my life had I seen a doctor cry, but the doctor that did everything he could for my son shed tears that night in front of me and my wife. His eyes were red when he passed on the news to us. He apologized for failing us when in actuality, he did everything he could. He didn’t fail us one bit. Clara was hysterical while I sat down in disbelief. Many thoughts were racing through my head at that moment. What if we hadn’t gotten stopped by those damn cops? Would my boy hear our voices and hold on long enough for them to save him? I don’t know if it would’ve worked, but it would’ve been worth a try. I’m… sorry. No, I’m good. I’m good. It’s just that… My boy. My son was murdered at a party that I let him go to. His mother was against it, but I wanted him to be able to have fun and enjoy his high school years. I had no idea that this would have happened, but I… felt somewhat responsible. It’s like I sent my kid to his grave. That feeling prevented me from sleeping for many nights. That feeling made me put a knife to my throat in the middle of the night while Clara was upstairs sleeping. I couldn’t live with myself anymore…
I didn’t go through with suicide. I couldn’t do it. Clara was already going through enough being pregnant and after just recently burying her only son. How much pain would she be in to have to bury me too? I couldn’t do that to her. I had to live, for her and my unborn daughter.
The full story from what I was told is pretty much the longer version of the story the police officer told me when stopped us. Xavier was watching his friends play with firecrackers and fireworks, the loud noises caused the neighbors to call the cops. The neighbors told the cops that they think there were gunshots, so the cops were on high alert. The cops came, and loud firecrackers continued to go off. One of the cops say they heard a scream, so they just assumed that someone had a gun and they drew theirs. These cops snuck in from the backyard because that’s where the loud noise was coming from. Just as they pushed through the open wooden fence, a couple of firecrackers went off. One police officer fired off three shots in retaliation without warning. One of the bullets hit Xavier, and two hit another kid that was next to him. Both kids died at the hospital. The very same hospital that Xavier was born in.
Now let me ask you this question… Did these two young black boys get justice from the American Judicial System? Did the protests with picket signs and T-shirts that read ‘Justice for Justice’ and ‘Justice for Tibbs’ persuade the judge to give my son and his friend what they deserved? Of course not… the officer that shot them was put on leave. No jail time… oh wait, he did serve 120 days in protective custody after trial. I’m sure he learned his lesson in there for those four months. I’m sure he left that jail feeling like a changed person
that will never kill another innocent teenager accidentally again. I’m sure the money we received from the lawsuit was enough to fill the empty hole in our hearts. There was no winning for us in any situation. No amount of money could bring my boy back, no words of encouragement could bring him back, no protests could bring him back. No matter how many press conferences Clara and I did for our son, he did not come back. No matter how many tears we cried on TV, his bed stayed empty every night. There was nothing we could do to bring him back, we just had to keep on living. You see, one of the worst things about losing someone is seeing that the world is continuing to turn without them being here. That realization that ‘life goes on’ is heartbreaking when a huge part of your life is gone.
Zoey’s birth was the first sign that things could possibly have a chance at going back to normal, even if it’s a little bit. It felt like a soft reset of our lives. Clara and I made sure she knew all about her big brother Xavier, and we talked about him as if he was still alive and with us. But things didn’t remain a fairy tale for too long. You see, I was starting to have problems with my vision. Some days were better than others, but one day it was completely horrible. Everything was blurry. Clara drove me to the hospital… yes, that same hospital.
My heart shattered when the doctor told me that my eyesight could be damaged permanently. I forgot the name of my condition, but whatever it was, it killed me on the inside. That was it. At that moment, I thought about ending it forever. What’s the point of living if I couldn’t see? My beautiful wife and daughter were a blur to me. The only image I soon had of them were memories. Why did God decide to torture me like this after already taking my son away from me? I lost my faith one night when I didn’t even try to pray before going to bed. What good is there to talk to God after what he’s doing to me? It was like… like Job. I thought about that book over and over, and that made me resent God for what he did in that story mostly because I felt connected to Job. God pretty much gave Job everything a man can dream for and then took everything away from him. He gave me health, Clara, Xavier, Zoey, parents that cared about me and kept me on the right path, and Nadine… even though she was an annoying tattletale, I sometimes wish to go back to those days where she would tell my parents anything I did. Those days were when life was innocent.
I had a great life; my son was doing great in basketball and was bound for the NBA. Things were on the rise even more, but then he took my son. He took my son’s dreams of going to the NBA. Clara and I were praying so hard in the car on the way to the hospital, but he didn’t listen to our prayers long enough. Along with that, he took my eyesight away, and eventually my job. Money wasn’t a problem for us because of our settlement with the state, but it wasn’t about the money. I could no longer do what I loved and that hurt me even more. Who knows what’s next? I didn’t stop believing in God, I stopped believing that he looked out for all of our best interests.
To her credit, Clara was always there for me. When I felt like my life was over, she reminded me that it wasn’t. She even wore this strong shampoo to make me happy. My sense of smell was somewhat heightened by my loss of sight (I always thought that was a myth) and that shampoo smelled wonderful. The shampoo smelled like fresh flowers which brought me back to the days of innocence when I gave her that first rose and asked her to be mine.
Zoey also was a strong influence on me feeling good about myself. She pretty much was my eyes whenever we were together. When we would take our daily walks, she would direct me on where to go, and she would describe the area around me so vividly that I felt like I could see everything she was talking about. After a while, I got used to the whole being blind thing. Music also has been a key component in helping me through the years, you don’t need eyes to listen to music and music has been the cure that I needed for all those depressed moments I’ve spent in silence feeling sorry for myself. I had eyes when I listened to music. I could imagine everything I thought the songs were about. Xavier loved music, so I asked Clara for a playlist consisting of some of his favorite musicians and songs.
My daughter Zoey grew to be an amazing young woman, and I currently miss her as well. From what I know, Zoey didn’t die. However, Clara and I did.
We had just celebrated Zoey’s 18th birthday and she went up to some competition thing all the kids love… I think it was called the Mythical Melee or something like that. She wouldn’t stop talking about it. She flew all the way to New Jersey just to watch this thing. She wanted me to go with her, but I denied.
“That would be a waste of time and money,” I told her, pointing at my sunglasses, “just go ahead and enjoy yourself with your friends and Nadine. We can watch it together when you get back. Well, you can tell me everything, and I’ll imagine it.”
“Yeah, sounds like a plan. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back,” Zoey said.
I was nervous about letting her go all the way to New Jersey. Clara and I were always nervous when it came to Zoey. We had to make sure she was safe at all times which made us seem stricter, but she understood. She understood what we went through with Xavier’s murder, so she never really complained. Instead, she asked her auntie Nadine to accompany her. That set Clara and me at ease. The cop that killed my son made my family live in fear for the rest of our lives, and this isn’t very noble of me, but I really hope karma hits him hard without warning.
So while Nadine and Zoey were headed to New Jersey for that melee thing, Clara and I were all alone. She came up with an idea to take a surprise trip to somewhere special. Having nothing better to do, I accepted the invitation. The fresh air helped me feel better than I did this morning, saying goodbye to my baby girl, and my annoying big sister.
When we got in the car, Clara had me put on a pair of headphones and zone out to the music. I personally chose to listen to Wiz Khalifa, one of Xavier’s favorite rappers. It’s funny because I vividly remember yelling at Xavier whenever he would blast this guy’s music throughout the house. Now, look at me. This playlist that Clara picked out was playing all of my favorites, but when ‘See you again’ started playing, tears dropped from my broken eyes. Clara tapped me on the arm and I reached to pause the song, “Huh?”
“Are you okay?” she asked me, the car was still in motion, “Why are you crying?”
“The song that’s playing has me thinking about Xavier,” I said.
“Oh…” she sounded sad as well.
I put the headphones on and I felt more tears streaming down my face. I felt the car make a hard left, and slow down. “Are we here?” I asked, pausing the music again and wiping my face.
“No,” Clara sniffled, “I just need to stop for gas.”
She stepped out of the car, closed the door behind her. When you’re blind, you tend to miss the simplest things because I remember sitting down in that car thinking to myself ‘Damn. I’d do almost anything to just be able to pump gas again.’ I also thought about the times when I used to pump gas and took it for granted. I should’ve been happier to do it.
I took my headphones off when I heard some yelling. Whoever it was, was screaming very loud and I heard an explosion right after.
“Clara!” I screamed out, I opened the car door and tried to get out, but I couldn’t move… the seatbelt was still on me. I tried my best to unclip the seatbelt and I heard someone get in the car, “Clara?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she started the car. She sounded like she was panicking, “We have to get out of here!”
“What’s happening out there?” I asked right before another explosion went off.
* * *
“We died in that explosion,” Vincent said, looking at the crowd as the bonfire still burned furiously behind him when Rebellia tossed a branch in, “When I woke up in this world, I remembered her name. She called out to me in my dream, and she let me know that she’s with me. I wanted to find my wife Clara, and I was looking to Rebellia for help. Without even knowing, she did help. I know where my wife is,” Vincent began running.
“Vin
cent, where are you-?” Rebellia started to jog after him. Quentin followed, Faye and Maria followed, and that’s when the crowd began to run with Vincent. Mostly to see what he was talking about, some just followed because everyone else was.
When Vincent finally stopped running, he turned and smiled. “You’re here,” he said, beaming from ear to ear.
Rebellia caught up to him and paused when she noticed the woman standing by the river. Fair skin, brown hair cut to the shoulders, and a white dress on to match Vincent’s all white guild uniform. She had a single rose in her hand that she handed to Vincent when he was close enough. They both embraced one another with a tight hug and soon a kiss.
The crowd that followed Vincent to the river applauded and cheered the reunited couple as their kiss came to an end.
“Wow,” Rebellia smiled, “looks like you found her, Vincent. Didn’t take long, did it?”
“Not at all,” Vincent said, smiling with his arms wrapped around his soulmate’s waist.
“Thank you for taking care of him,” Clara said to Rebellia, “thank you for saving him.”
“I can’t really take credit for that,” Rebellia said, rubbing her own arm, “thank him, for wanting to be saved. If this is going where I think it’s going, it’s been fun while it lasted, Vincent.”
“See you, Vince,” Quentin said, shaking his hand one last time.
“What do you mean? He’s leaving?” Maria asked, confused.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Rebellia turned to face Maria, “he found his wife. His soul can finally be at peace. They’ll move on together. And besides, their son is probably waiting for them where they’re going.”
“I missed you so much,” Clara whispered to Vincent before kissing him again. She turned to address the crowd while Maria and Daphne went in for a group hug, “I was also told to deliver a message. That message is: there’s nothing to fear. You are all loved, and you are all welcome. That’s all.”
