Nappily Faithful

by Trisha R. Thomas

  “Oh that’s ridiculous,” the voice called out.

  She doesn’t exist. She’s not here. “Go on,” Delma said, ignoring Trevelle’s interruption.

  “The point is, when I saw my daughter I didn’t recognize her. My heart nearly leaped out of my chest. The realization that I didn’t even recognize my own child sent me in a tailspin. She had on different clothes and her hair was in this painful-looking press and curl pulled back so tight she still has the tiny red pus bumps at the edge of her scalp.” Her hand pressed against her chest. “My first reaction was of a mother defending her child. It wasn’t personal. I respect Trevelle Doval very much and do believe she had the best intentions in mind.”

  Delma couldn’t help but smile. This girl was good.

  “It was a misunderstanding, and I’m sure it won’t happen again now that we know where each other stands.”

  “Oh, please.” Trevelle Doval stood up. “Both of these people are documented criminals. This woman attacked me in public. There are witnesses and I want something done about it.”

  Delma almost fell out in laughter. She had to control herself. She slammed her gavel down. “Mr. Young, control your client or I will have her removed.”

  They whispered back and forth among each other before Trevelle finally sat down. She was fuming and had no choice but to button up and fly right. Delma was in control. Satisfaction came in the form of silence.

  “Now, fighting is never a good thing when it comes to the best interest of a child. This process should be about getting over yourselves, your needs, your hurt and bruised egos. Because such selflessness is such a rarity, I usually do three things. I speak directly with the child in question. I speak directly with the parents in question. I speak with the custody adviser and I come to a decision.”

  On the other side, Trevelle went into a damage control mode. She clawed her long fingers over the microphone so no one would hear what she was saying. Moments later, Mr. Young stood up. “Your honor, it’s crucial that the criminal records of Mrs. Johnston-Parson as well as her husband are taken into consideration.”

  “Mr. Young, are you trying to tell me how to do my job?”

  “No …. no ma’am.”

  “I didn’t think so,” Delma said. “I have the parents’ file. I will take it into consideration. Okay, please see my clerk to schedule your meetings, hopefully very soon. By the way, I still don’t have a paternity test.” She turned to Hudson. “Why do I still not have a paternity test on record?”

  “I’ll get right on it,” Hudson said.

  “Let’s hope there are no more delays. I encourage you all to put on your happy faces. Custody advisers aren’t nearly as nice as I am.” Delma slammed her gavel down.

  28

  Trevelle

  She and Airic rode to the airport in silence. She was more than happy to leave, to get on the plane and be miles away from the circus clowns and ridiculousness of baby mamas, ineffective lawyers, and crazy judges. Trevelle knew there was something amiss. Court day had been a train wreck. Nothing had gone in their favor. Continued visitation. What a joke, as if Trevelle would set foot near those wretched people without armed police protection.

  The judge, that jungle woman with the wrinkled collar peeking underneath her robe, that woman, Trevelle decided, was against her. She had a knack for knowing these things. She was used to the Trevelle Doval–haters, the ones jealous of her success. Jealous of her beauty. Judge Hawkins appeared neither self-righteous nor petty, which was made obvious by her lack of personal esteem, running around half-dressed and hair uncombed. Then what? Simple disdain for Trevelle having once been a prostitute and drug addict? It wasn’t a secret that she’d lived a wild and ignorant childhood. She’d read a few articles on herself where even the journalists thought they were disclosing something rare and secret, outing her, when they truly weren’t. The part that was private and sealed was her criminal record, at least from the public, but someone like Delma Hawkins could easily get access. It all made sense. The judge knew more than anyone else could possibly know. More than Trevelle herself ever wanted to remember.

  “Ma’am, you’re going to have to step to the side.” The airport security guard stood with a solid body and bland expression. “Female pat down.” He waved at another guard.

  Trevelle was so busy thinking about the judge that she mindlessly walked through the metal detector wearing her Dolce & Gabbanas with the gold-plated clasps. Setting off the alarm was like volunteering for a strip search. She spun around looking for Airic, wondering how he could let her make such a mistake. She spotted him ahead of her, already gathering his wallet and watch from the plastic tray.

  “This way, miss.” Clear blue eyes and blond lashes blinked at her without seeing. “How’s your day so far?”

  “Blessed. And yours?” Trevelle tapped her now bare stocking feet impatiently on the filthy floor. She’d have to soak her feet in hot boiling water with half a cup of hydrogen peroxide. Extra strength.

  The woman waved the magic wand across Trevelle’s chest, where the beeping amplified. The wire in her bra, her earrings, even her diamond cross hanging on her neck set off the alarm. There was no easy way to travel anymore. The country was under siege, not by terrorists but their own lack of spiritual trust and faith in God. The young woman patted and ran her hands along Trevelle’s body, barely paying attention to what she was doing, incapable of saving lives, securing a plane.

  “Okay, you’re free to go. Thank you for your patience.” The woman’s glazed eyes focused on nothing. “Your things are over there.”

  Trevelle knew the sad hopeless expression all too well. She reached out and touched the woman lightly on her arm. “We are all God’s children and he will not forsake you. You are loved.” She opened her palms and waited with closed eyes.

  Without pause, the thin cold hands of the woman slid into Trevelle’s. “Lord, I ask you today to guide the heart of this young woman, give her strength and peace of mind. I ask that you give her direction, oh Lord, so that she may find her voice, her strength, her passion. Give her heart the warmth and calm of knowing she can do and be anything in this world with you as the light. Show her your blessings, dear Lord, so that she may follow and know your greatness.”

  “Thank you,” the security woman whispered as she clung tightly to Trevelle’s hands.

  “You’re going to be fine. God knows what all his children need.” Trevelle squeezed the bony hands of the woman one last time before walking away. She could still hear the soft whispers of “thank you” over and over, as if the lady was walking by her side. It happened more often than not, someone’s energy and spirit clinging to her out of sheer desperation. She understood. She would not abandon the woman and would keep her in her prayers until she was strong enough to take the journey on her own. Trevelle understood how someone could be afraid of God’s abundance and power. She’d been in those very shoes before she’d been saved and made to see her true calling.

  Airic led her by the arm at a hurried pace. “You’ve already had a rough week. I wish you wouldn’t exert that kind of energy unannounced—not to mention, we could miss our flight.”

  “That poor woman was lifeless, soulless. I couldn’t let her go on that way. Besides, I wouldn’t have run into her at all if you’d been mindful. How could you let me go through security with my shoes on?”

  Airic paused, then changed what he was about to say. “I love you,” he said unexpectedly.

  “Okay,” Trevelle said with fear and questioning. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “Sometimes, you give and you give of yourself and I wonder if there’s anything left for me.”

  “Of course there is, Airic. I don’t understand where this is coming from.”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t think you would.”

  “I do love you, sweetheart.” The softness of her voice promised she would try harder to make him believe. They held hands the rest of the distance to the gate. All the passeng
ers had already boarded. The crew members patiently looked on as the final two passengers took their first-class seats.

  Trevelle plopped down into the leather comfort, exhausted. Her eyes closed and she was in a deep sleep before the plane left the ground.

  She’d been on the streets a whole year with only one goal: survival. Unless she learned to adapt and take advantage of her situation she would’ve ended up nothing but used meat. She figured out how to be the sweet desirable pussycat. That way she’d get more money, be treated nicer, and get on Cain’s good side.

  It was the very same vulnerability that attracted Lieutenant Kellogg, or Lieutenant K, as he was known. Most of the girls giggled at the sound of his name, teasing him for being named after a cereal. She didn’t take him serious at first, either, treating him like a Boy Scout. He worked the downtown area on a special task force called “S.A.F.E.” Small Accomplishments for Empowerment. On Sundays he had his own church in an abandoned storefront on Baker Street. He never berated any of the girls for doing what they did. He carried bottled water and boxes of trail mix, offering nutrition and a word of encouragement here and there. He only arrested the girls when it looked like they could use a good night’s rest.

  In lockup they could get some sleep with a hot meal the next morning. Needless to say, riding in the back of his patrol unit became the most welcome part of her night. She made sure her misdemeanor crimes were conducted between the hours of ten and midnight; walking off with an armful of hygiene products from the brightly lit convenience mart, leaving the diner without paying, or pretending to hitchhike and being ashamed when it turned out to be Kellogg’s headlights instead of a paying trick.

  “You know it’s past your bedtime, young lady,” Kellogg would always say to Velle, rolling down the window. The large dark gap in the center of his teeth was a welcome sight. “Get in.”

  “Yes, sir.” She’d curl up in the backseat, take off her high heels, and rub the burning start of a blister. She trusted him, which was unusual for two reasons: he was white and a police officer. She could honestly say he was the only one walking the earth she could be herself with. She told him her real name, something she knew was against the rules. Still when he booked her, he always left the initials “N/A,” pretending he didn’t know.

  The rearview mirror tilted to eye her directly. “It’s time you made a decision,” he said with more persistence in his voice than usual.

  “I don’t have a decision to make. You act like I got a choice.” The dirty yellow streetlamps offered barely enough light to capture the silhouette of him. She could make out his jawline, the distinct pockmarks left by splatters of hot grease intended for his father when he was only six years old. He had told her the story of standing too close to the stove when his mother decided she’d had enough of the man’s lying and philandering. She picked up the skillet she’d heated to fry chicken and flung the sizzling grease, burning both himself and his father. Third-degree burns, a matching set. “If you think mine are bad, you should see my daddy’s,” he’d said, when she had the nerve to cry from his sad story. As if her own wasn’t the saddest of them all.

  “Tonight, I’m either going to drop you back off on that corner or you’re going to the Grant Reed Shelter. They got one bed open. I made them promise to keep it for me.” He turned around and faced her but his face was unreadable. His tone said it all. “This is the last time I pick you up, Velle, unless it’s at the Grant Reed Shelter.”

  That’s why she loved him, because he cared. But she shook her head. “Cain found me last time. He pulled me out the front door by my hair and nobody even stopped him. He stuck a knife to my throat and said if I went back he’d kill me.”

  “I’m not going to let that happen. Not this time, I swear.” He turned the police radio down to mute. “I worry about you,” he added, dropping his eyes.

  Her hands tingled with fear, but more from the thought of not being able to get her hands on a little PCP, or red dragons, than the threat of Cain beating her upside the head.

  “Your choice,” he said, using his Lieutenant K voice. But something told her he was tired, and wasn’t going to make the offer again.

  “Okay, but you promise to come get me first thing in the morning?”

  “I promise.”

  She spent the night in the four-story brick building that used to be a bank before the area fell to ruin. The cot smelled like piss and vomit, but so did she.

  The next morning, Kellogg showed up bright and early. It was the first time she’d seen him in the daylight and almost didn’t recognize him. She didn’t know he had light brown hair or dark gray eyes. Even with the thick scarring on his face, he was handsome. He had a solid, trustworthy face. “You ready?” He handed her a miniature carton of orange juice and a bag of donuts with colorful sprinkles.

  “Thank goodness. I thought it was gonna be something healthy like those nuts and berries you always pass around.”

  “It’s a special day.” His voice deepened. “I wanted you to have something sweet and special, just like yourself. I’m proud of you for taking this step.”

  Nothing tasted so good. The warm buttery sweetness of the fresh donut melted on her tongue. She rode in the front seat next to Kellogg, taking moments in between bites to watch his profile. “Why are you so nice?” she asked. “So many bad things happened to you and you’re still a good person.”

  “Bad things happen to people all the time. It doesn’t have to make you angry. Eventually you’ll see that. You can take a tragedy and grow from it, become a better person.”

  “No, I don’t see how being raped and being used up will ever make me a better person.”

  “I do. One day you’re going to help other people, other women, who’ve gone through the same thing you have. You’re going to be able to say, look at me, If I can change, anyone can.”

  The trees got bigger, greener, and taller with every passing second as they drove. The quiet peacefulness of the thick wooded countryside with only glints of sunshine passing through was something she’d only seen on TV shows, or in pictures. They arrived to a large country mansion. The outside was lined with white rose bushes. The garden plaque on the gate said, grow where you’re planted.

  In six months she did just that. She blossomed into a young woman who stood in front of her rehabilitated group with Kellogg looking on and read the poem she’d written as a semi-commencement speech. It was time for her group to go their separate ways. She took a deep breath and read aloud with more confidence than she knew she had.

  One dream at a time.

  One hope at a time.

  One step at a time.

  My heart and mind lift with angels who guide me

  One day at a time.

  One hug at a time.

  One man, woman, and child at a time, will see the power in me.

  The glory in we.

  The hope and the dreams in all of us.

  Kellogg was the only one who’d shown up, even though she’d invited her mother and her brother, Kevin. Six months and she hadn’t so much as sipped cough medicine. She was clearheaded and sober. She’d gained ten pounds of healthy weight eating food she’d helped grow. Daily Bible study gave her a foundation to stand on her own two feet and not be afraid of what someone else thought of her. There was only one problem; it was time for her to leave and she had nowhere to go.

  Being only fourteen meant foster care or back to the streets where Cain would be happy to welcome her home with a beating worse than all the others. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I’ve never been so happy and now I don’t have anywhere to go.”

  Kellogg hugged her and gave her a fatherly kiss on the top of her head. “Have I let you down, ever? I’m not about to start. We’ll find someplace.”

  “What about your place? I can sleep on the couch. I’ll cook. You won’t even notice I’m there.”

  “Velle, I wish I could take you home with me. You know I can’t.”

  “Why?”

&
nbsp; “I’m a police officer. I have a family, a wife, two little boys.”

  Brimming with tears she said, “I can help …. babysit, or clean.” Her folded arms couldn’t stop the overwhelming chill of insecurity. Only minutes before she was brave and full of hope. In front of him, she began to wither. “I’ll do everything I’m supposed to do. I’ll go to school. You won’t have any trouble out of me, I swear.”

  “We’ll have to find somewhere else for you to go,” he said with regret.

  “Right,” she said, turning to walk the distance to the well-kept mansion. His footsteps quickly caught up with hers.

  “Listen, okay, you can stay with me until we find a good home, a family who’s willing to take you in. It’s temporary. You understand?”

  You understand?

  “Mr. Doval, is your wife all right?”

  The entire first-class cabin beamed concern in her direction. She’d fallen asleep. Her cries could be heard loud and clear over the roar of the plane engine.

  “She’s fine,” Airic said. “Some water would be helpful.” The fear in his eyes said otherwise. She wasn’t fine. “You scared me half to death.” He squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips. “We’re almost home.”

  She leaned against his shoulder and held on tight. Just once she wished she could close her eyes without living her worst nightmare over and over.

  29

  Venus

  Fighting, along with everything else on our plate, seemed like a waste of good energy, which neither Jake nor I had to spare. When I left with Mya, I ended up at the Embassy Suites about ten miles away. I spent the entire night on the phone with Jake. I was back home the next morning. I knew it was only a matter of time before the lure of his voice or the promise of doing better would no longer work. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d scooped Mya up in the middle of the night or day, claiming I was through. I was tired of restarting the race from the same spot. Ready, set, go …. only to be tripped up by his insecurities. The clock was ticking on our relationship, I knew it. He knew it as well.