Aftermath

by Tracy Brown

  She looked at the woman who hadn’t bothered to identify herself and shook her head. No matter how grim her future seemed at the moment, she couldn’t see snitching as a means of bettering her chances at trial. “I want to talk to my lawyer,” she said.

  The woman looked disappointed. “You sure?” she asked. “Take another look.”

  Misa didn’t bother. She had seen enough the first time.

  The woman nodded. Her glasses were ugly, Misa decided. Far too big for her face. She scribbled something in yet another logbook and called the rookie to come and get Misa. The officer came back in and ushered Misa all the way down the two flights of stairs they’d originally climbed and then farther down another stairwell, into what seemed like the dungeon of the precinct. It turned out to be the holding cells for the female prisoners. A blond female cop took over at that point and the rookie disappeared for good. Misa was led by the blonde to what would be her cell for the night.

  Upon seeing it, Misa paused. The tiny cell was filthy, covered in graffiti that had been carved into the walls, into the hard metal bench and even the floor. A disgusting stainless steel toilet with a sink on top of it sat in the middle of the cell and the smell of urine was overpowering. Yellowed tissue clung to the seat of the toilet and Misa had to fight the urge to gag.

  “I can’t sleep in here,” Misa said, shaking her head and backing away.

  Blondie took Misa by the arm and urged her forward. “I know,” she said, sounding as if she felt genuine sympathy for the pretty young lady in her charge. “It’s not easy, but you have to go in there. Just try to get some sleep and before you know it, it’ll be morning and you’ll be on your way to court.”

  Misa looked again at the cell she was being forced to spend the night in and shut her eyes as if to block it out. She pictured her own bed at home, Baron’s big beautiful bed in his big beautiful house. Looking at the metal bench she was being made to sleep on tonight, she shook her head as Blondie uncuffed her and nudged her forward into her evening accommodations. Misa slunk down onto the bench and leaned her fresh weave against the dank and dirty walls as Blondie locked her cell. She heard another door slam as Blondie retreated, heard still another door shut loudly outside of that one, and knew there was no escaping this fate. She was doomed to live like an animal for the time being. Misa could hear other voices in neighboring cells and listened to the conversations being shouted out from one woman to another. But she refrained from joining in. Instead, she laid her small body on top of the hard metal bench and shut her eyes. Sleep never came for Misa, but she still dreamed of seeing her son smiling at her, free of his predator, no longer scared of the big bad wolf.

  * * *

  Camille had showered, changed, and was lying across the chaise in Dominique’s living room. Toya, too, had freshened up and was sipping a cup of coffee while seated on the sofa, looking at the sunlight spilling through the huge windows of Dominique’s apartment. Dominique was walking back and forth, frantically dialing the numbers of some of Octavia’s friends in hopes that they had heard from her during the night. So far, she’d had no luck. Both Toya and Camille had been disheartened to learn about Octavia running away. Toya had assured Dominique that her daughter was a smart young lady and that she was okay and would come home soon. Dominique wanted to believe that, but her maternal instincts tugged at her still. None of the women had slept a wink in close to twenty-four hours. And what an unbelievable twenty-four hours it had been.

  After leaving Staten Island, the three friends had arrived at Dominique’s Upper East Side apartment and Camille had immediately called her mother to tell her about Misa’s arrest. Her mother, Lily, had been understandably distraught, and when she called Misa’s ex-husband, Louis, it had been even more difficult. Louis had at first been dead silent, leaving Camille wondering if he was still on the line. When he finally spoke again, his words were cold.

  “I don’t feel sorry for her,” he said. “None of this would’ve happened if she was doing her job as a mother.” He had paused again. “But I would like to be in court tomorrow to answer any questions about Shane.” Louis was secretly relieved that someone had paid the ultimate price for what had been done to his son. But he still held Misa one hundred percent accountable. Camille didn’t argue with him. Instead, she gave him the information for Misa’s bail hearing. She advised both her mother and Louis to watch what they said to the media and to their friends about the situation in the days to come.

  Even as she helped Camille calm down after a long and tragic evening and watched as Dominique paced the floor waiting for word from her daughter, Toya couldn’t get her father out of her mind. She lay across the sofa and exhaled loudly.

  Looking over at Toya, Dominique noticed that her friend looked exhausted. She knew that she personally wouldn’t be able to sleep no matter how she tried, and assumed that the same was true for Camille. But Dominique saw no reason why Toya shouldn’t get some rest.

  “Toya, are you sure you don’t want to go lay down in Octavia’s room? Misa won’t be in court for hours.” They had agreed that Toya would accompany Camille to Misa’s court appearance that afternoon while Dominique stayed home and waited for word from Octavia.

  Toya shook her head. “Can’t sleep,” she said. “Got too much on my mind. Y’all ain’t the only ones dealing with some bullshit.”

  Camille looked at her, frowning slightly. “What’s on your mind?”

  Toya looked at her troubled friends and felt less embarrassed to share the drama she was dealing with. She sighed. “My piece of shit father came back from the dead tonight.”

  Dominique stopped pacing then, and sat down in the recliner and crossed her legs. Camille seemed rapt as well, since neither of them had ever heard Toya speak much about her family.

  “You thought your father was dead?” Camille asked, confused.

  Toya shook her head. “No. I just wished he was.”

  Dominique’s eyes widened.

  “Damn,” Camille said.

  Dominique shook her head. “You’re gonna have to elaborate.”

  Toya filled her friends in on the events of her childhood and noticed that they seemed amazed by what she’d been through. She knew it came as a surprise for them to learn that someone as tough as Toya had endured such abuse. She regaled her friends with story after story of her father’s verbal and physical torment. When she showed them her missing tooth, their facial expressions were priceless. She got emotional at one point as she described the way her father had talked to her, how he had belittled her mother. His words had often been more painful than his blows, although his blows had often been crippling. Toya’s eyes grew sad.

  “I used to hear my mother crying in her room at night sometimes when she thought I was asleep. He would fuck her up, but she would fight him back. Don’t get it twisted, she was not the kind of bitch to sit there and be his punching bag. They used to go at it!” She laughed a little at that, though she didn’t really find it funny. Toya became lost in thought momentarily as she thought about how weak her mother still seemed to her despite the fact that she had fought back. She may have struck back, but she also kept returning to the monster she had married. Her mother, Jeanie—whom Nate had nicknamed “Sweets” in the early days of their relationship—had been gullible enough to be lulled back with empty promises and what Toya imagined must have been some really good sex, since Sweets had stayed so long and had so many of Nate’s children. Toya hated the weakness she perceived in her mother, even on the nights when she battled Nate blow for blow.

  “But he was a man and she couldn’t win,” Toya said at last. “I jumped in once and he knocked me out cold. So I learned to stay in my room, stay out of sight. Because as much as I loved and felt sorry for my mother, I couldn’t understand why she kept taking him back.” Toya shook her head as if still at a loss for an answer to that question. “But she wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t break down at all until he left the house. She would shut her bedroom door and cry into her pillow and
I don’t know if she ever knew I could hear her.” Toya stared off momentarily before clearing her throat and continuing. “I have a lot of respect for my mother,” she said. “Even though to everybody in our neighborhood, she probably looked like a dumb bitch for putting up with Nate, to us she was a hero. She fed us, kept us going to school, kept clothes on our backs. It was more than my bitch-ass father was ever good for.”

  Finally, Toya described the times he had awakened her in the middle of the night and forced her to go with him to some of the seediest parts of Brooklyn and witness things she wasn’t old enough to understand.

  “He was a pig, you know what I’m saying?” Toya wiped her eyes. “Had me out there with him in the middle of the night watching him throw his life away.” She shook her head. “Plus he cheated on my mother. Right in front of me, he would grab asses—nasty, fat, ugly, broke, nobody bitches. Tongue ’em down, joke around with them. And then he would dare me to tell my mother. Bitch-ass nigga.” She sniffled and took the tissue Dominique passed her. “Anyway, his ass is dying. He needs a bone marrow transplant or something.”

  Dominique shook her head, her facial expression one of pure compassion for her friend. She had no idea that Toya had been through so much in her childhood.

  “Will you be tested to see if you can be a donor?” Camille asked.

  Toya seemed surprised and appalled by the question. “Hell no! I told him to crawl back under the rock he climbed out from.”

  Dominique knew that Toya was a tough woman, but that sounded harsh. “You’re just gonna let him die?”

  Toya didn’t expect Dominique to understand. After all, her father, Bill Storms, had been the model parent. She looked at her friend like she didn’t get it.

  “Dominique, your father was perfect. He loved you, supported you, took care of you. My father didn’t do any of those things. All he ever did was hurt my mother and all of us. I feel no pity for him. And if he really wanted my forgiveness, he would’ve asked for it before his time started running out.”

  Neither Dominique nor Camille could argue with that logic.

  Eager to change the subject since she was uncomfortable being pitied, Toya looked at Camille. “Do you believe that Steven really molested your nephew?” she asked.

  The look on Camille’s face suggested that she’d been asking herself that question for the past few hours. She shook her head and looked at the ceiling before shrugging her shoulders. “I’m not sure, Toya,” she said at last. Camille looked at both of her friends. “Steven was a weird guy, you know? For as long as I’ve known him he’s been that way. Quiet, no friends, no luck with women, unmotivated … he was all those things. But to think that he could be capable of touching a three-year-old boy?” She shook her head again. “I just don’t know, girl.”

  Dominique frowned. “I remember seeing him at that barbecue you had last year. He was hanging around the pool where all the kids were and I recall being concerned about that. Octavia had been there with that tiny bikini she had on that day and I was worried that the grown men were checking her out. Steven was one of the few adults hanging around over by the pool and I was worried that he was trying to get close to Octavia. But now I’m wondering if it was because all the little kids were playing over there.”

  Camille nodded. She remembered that as well. In fact, Steven always wanted to be around her nephew. Whenever Shane spent the night with Camille—a constant occurrence since Misa was always out partying or running behind some man—Steven would play with Shane, watch TV with him, and babysit him while Camille slept. “I feel a little guilty about leaving Shane alone with Steven,” she admitted.

  Both Toya and Dominique frowned. “Don’t start blaming yourself, Camille,” Toya said. “If that muthafucka was a pedophile, you had no way of knowing it. And besides, you took care of Shane as often as you did out of the kindness of your heart. Misa was the one who chose to spend so much time away from her child.” Toya hated to sound as if she were blaming Misa for abandoning Shane, but the truth was the truth.

  Camille shrugged. “I know you’re right. But I still feel … responsible in a way.” She sighed. “Ever since Frankie moved out, I’ve been drinking like crazy.” Camille knew her drinking had gotten out of control long before Frankie left her, but she wasn’t ready to admit that to her friends just yet. “I was sitting up all night downing drink after drink. In the mornings, I would be so hungover that I couldn’t get out of bed some days. Shane was always with me and always so full of energy, and Steven would volunteer to take care of him while I slept.” Camille closed her eyes, wondering if her brother-in-law had been using those opportunities to get close to Shane so that he could prey on him. “I never thought that he was capable of doing something so sick. Shane is just a baby…”

  “Nobody could have imagined something like that, Camille,” Dominique said. “Whether you were drinking or not, Steven was Shane’s uncle through marriage. It was inevitable that they would interact on some level. Yes, Misa left Shane behind a lot. And, okay, you may have been drunk a time or two while Shane was with you, but no one gave Steven a reason or a right to touch that child. And if he really did that to Shane, I say good for Misa. I’m glad she killed the freak.”

  Toya nodded. That was the smartest thing Dominique had said in a long time. “Amen.”

  Camille managed a weak smile. She was happy to have the two of them as friends at a time like this. She would have felt so alone had it not been for them. “I have to tell you both something.”

  Toya sucked her teeth and threw her head back in anguish. “Come on now, bitch. It’s been too much bullshit tonight already. Don’t tell me you got some terminal illness or something! No more bad news, ’cuz I can’t take it.”

  Camille had to laugh and it felt good to do so after all they’d been through lately. Dominique, too, chuckled and waited to hear Camille’s announcement.

  “Well, it’s not necessarily bad news,” she said. “I’m pregnant.”

  Dominique’s pretty face spread into a broad smile and she sat forward in her chair. “Camille! Really?”

  Camille nodded and smiled back at her friend. She glanced at Toya to see her reaction. Toya wasn’t smiling. She looked at Camille and the severity of the situation in her family became painfully clear to Toya. Not only had Camille’s husband left her for his beautiful best friend, but Camille was now pregnant with his child—a child that Frankie never wanted. To make matters worse, Camille’s sister had murdered Frankie’s brother in retaliation for molesting her son. Toya wanted to put on a smile and be happy for her friend. She wanted to say something lighthearted and sweet the way Dominique had. But all that came to her was, “Wow.”

  Camille smiled weakly. “Yup. Nine weeks. I told Frankie tonight when I went to Gillian’s town house to confront them.” Camille explained the events leading up to her coming home and discovering a murder scene in her home; how she’d announced to Frankie and his mistress that she was expecting a child.

  Toya couldn’t keep her game face on for too long. “So Frankie knows that you’re pregnant and he still walked out like that tonight?” She thought back to how coldly Frankie had acted, not just tonight, but on every occasion on which she’d seen them together in the past few weeks. The once-doting husband seemed to have no love left in his heart for Camille. Toya knew then that things between him and Camille would only be worse now that she was having a baby.

  Camille nodded. “I mean…” Camille’s voice trailed off. She seemed to be searching for words, and she swallowed hard before continuing. “I can understand him being upset. His brother is dead and my sister is responsible.” A tear fell from her eye and Toya shut her mouth.

  “Am I crazy to want to still make it work with him?” Camille asked, looking from one friend to the other, her eyes flooded.

  “No, Camille,” Dominique said, hoping to soothe her before Toya said something negative. “You’re not crazy. You love him. He’s your husband and having a baby is a blessing.” She smile
d at her friend, hoping to reassure her at what was obviously a terribly painful and confusing time. “You’re gonna be a great mom, Camille. And with or without Frankie, you’re gonna be all right. And so is your baby. Frankie is hurting right now. You have to let him have space to deal with what happened. The Gillian situation aside, you and your husband need to take a time-out for a little while and sort a lot of things out.”

  Toya agreed. “Exactly. Right now you have to focus on yourself and on Misa. She’s all alone and I can’t imagine how she must be feeling locked up in there right now.”

  They all thought about that and Camille seemed to tremble at the thought.

  Toya thought about the fork in the road each of them was facing at that moment in time. She had often likened them to a black version of Sex and the City. But those fictional characters had no problems compared to the ones their foursome was now dealing with.

  “Ladies, let’s promise to stop keeping shit to ourselves.”

  Camille and Dominique looked confused, so Toya happily elaborated.

  “All of us had a problem tonight and none of us reached out to each other until blood was spilled. Camille, when were you gonna tell us that you’re pregnant?”

  “I was—”

  Toya cut her off. “As a matter of fact, until tonight you never admitted out loud that Frankie left you.” Toya looked at Camille as if to dare her to correct her.

  Camille closed her mouth. It was true. Camille had been so ashamed to admit that her marriage—the picture-perfect million-dollar marriage—was over. She had clung to Frankie for dear life in an attempt to save face.

  Toya continued. “We all knew the deal. We could tell that you two were having problems. But you kept it all to yourself.” Toya saw Camille nodding and knew that she had made her point. “Dominique, you came home and found your daughter missing and you ran out into the night all by yourself like you were Wonder Woman.”