Thin Line

by Anthony Whyte

  “Mom, see it’s like this, ah… See…” I started and she gave me that motherly look. The unspoken was enough said.

  “What is it, Shareef?”

  “Well… See mom, Lebron and the Cavs had lost in the play-offs and see I was hoping… Well telling everyone that the Cavs would win. I mean—they were up at home against the Celtics. Then they lost the final game, and the Celtics won the series. At school, they started teasing me, talking trash. I never answered back, mom. You’d be proud of me. I mean not that I didn’t want to… He even called the team a bunch of faggots. Now that wasn’t nice, but did I say anything back? No…”

  Mother seemed ill at ease. Maybe she didn’t believe my version of what happened. Miss Brown is such a witch, now she had my mother under her spell and I would certainly face punishment. I reached for the ace in the hole.

  “Whatever Miss Brown said is a lie. If Lolo was here she would tell you what I’m saying is true.”

  I was almost shouting, but remembered how mother was always telling me that shouting doesn’t make you right. I wished so badly that Lolo had been at school today.

  The car noticeably sped up as we passed Lolo’s house. I noticed the yellow tape. I felt my heart suddenly starting to race. What was wrong? By the time mother pulled to a stop, I saw tears in her eyes. What was going on? It was my turn to put the stare on her.

  “Okay mother, you better level with me,” I said, mimicking her.

  My mother smiled. Then she cried a little, and finally she hugged me closely.

  “Oh my God, Shareef,” she said, smothering me against her breast.

  As I held her I could feel my mother’s body trembling and a strange feeling overcame me, causing me to shudder. It was the fear of finding out something bad. There was a noticeable strain on my mother’s face. I wanted to know why.

  “Mommy, please tell me what’s wrong,” I pleaded.

  I felt like crying without knowing why. Mom stared at me and started crying again holding me tightly. I knew something was very wrong, judging from the yellow tape. I hoped it had nothing to do with Lolo. She told me she never missed a day of school. Her voice kept replaying in my mind.

  We were out of the car and mother still held on to me as if she was protecting me. But protecting me from what, and from whom? I couldn’t take the suspense.

  “It has to do with Lolo, and that’s the reason you do not say what’s going on?” I asked, and Mother hugged me.

  I stared down the block. Everyone knew that plastic yellow tape is used to mark the scene of a crime.

  CHAPTER 2

  I stood frozen at the door as sweat trickled down my back, but could not remove my eyes from the scene. I could feel my mother pulling me inside, but was too engulfed in a flood of emotions. My hair stood on end when I realized that this was the first time I had seen yellow tape on this block, and I strained to see more. Turning to my mother I searched for an explanation but she was already walking toward the door. She entered the house and left the door open without looking back. I ran after her.

  “Mom, what happened over at Lolo’s?”

  I had caught up to her. She placed her handbag and keys on the end table before looking at me. Again, I could see the tears welling in her eyes.

  “Mommy, please tell me what happened?”

  I was pleading but she said nothing. Then she reached for my hand. I placed my hand in hers and felt her trembling.

  “Sometimes bad things happen to good people,” she said.

  I waited as she paused to let her tears out. All the time I kept wondering what was coming next. I knew whatever it was would be enough to change my young life for good, as I had never once witnessed my mother cry—not even when Dad was getting jailed on weekends.

  Could thieves have broken in? Stolen valuable things? I did not recall seeing any of the cars outside. I tried being patient as mother gathered herself. I could only see pain in her eyes, and I feared the worst. I felt my stomach cramping. My mother glanced around before saying anything.

  “Have a seat, son,” she said, her voice straining with emotion.

  Her words came in a whisper, and I did not know how to react. I wanted to hurry my mother on, but there was something inside me telling me that I really did not want to hear what she had to say. Go upstairs, the voice inside me warned. My stomach tightened. Then Stanley walked in.

  “Honey, the whole thing is on the news…” He started to speak, but saw me sitting next to my mother, and his mouth stopped moving.

  He walked over to where we were in the family room. I shook my head when I heard what he said.

  “Does he know?” He asked my mother like I was the invisible man.

  I wanted to embarrass him the way the witch at school did me for being rude. Instead I looked at my distraught mother while she sobbed. Her shoulders were jerking with the force of her tears. It felt surreal. Maybe I was having a bad dream. My stepfather’s fumbling pierced my consciousness when he resorted to his usual excuse to dismiss my curiosity.

  “Shareef, excuse us, please. Your mother and I have something to talk about alone,” he said.

  I shot him my short, dirty look before leaving. If only my father were here, he would be speaking to me a whole lot differently. He would have never dared say anything to me in front of my real dad. I could feel their eyes on me.

  “Shareef, start doing your homework,” mother instructed.

  I walked slowly to the refrigerator and got some juice. I was about to go upstairs to my room when my mother stopped me. She held my arm and said, “Honey, I think we should let Shareef know everything before…” Her voice trailed and I knew it was painful for her to continue.

  “Now may not be the right time, sweetheart. He’s still only a little boy!” Stanley objected. He was such a pee-hole. That’s exactly what I felt like saying, but again, out of respect for my elders, I bit my lips. My mother looked at me pitifully. She had taught me well.

  “Mom, I’m not a little boy. I’m almost twelve years old. I know that yellow tape around an area means a crime has been committed in there.”

  “I’ve got to censor those CSI movies. You’re watching too many,” she smiled and wiped at her tears.

  “I don’t think he should hear the official police details,” Stanley said.

  My stepfather paced nervously as he spoke. Mother seemed determined to let me know what was up. I sat down sipped the juice and listened attentively as she began.

  “Shareef,” she said, dabbing at her tears.

  It made me sad to see my mother with tears running while my stepfather paced back and forth, occasionally glancing back at us.

  “Ah sweetheart can you get me a glass of water?” she said to my stepfather. He walked to the kitchen. “Shareef, when we met the Mozis we were not aware… We did not know they were who they were.”

  Mother was apprehensive about revealing too much of the ‘official police details’ as Stanley had called it. Stanley brought her glass of cool water. He went back to his nervous pacing as my mother continued.

  “Mr. Mozi worked as a diplomat, but failed to mention his lucrative side gig.”

  “What do you mean, lucrative side gig…?” I asked.

  “It turned out that he was using his connections to launder money for some major international players,” mother said, and I looked at her incredulously.

  “Huh? Major, as in what? Mom, spit it out… What’s going on?”

  “Shareef, please listen. Mr. Mozi played a large role in embezzlement schemes and money-laundering operations that allowed mobsters to funnel drugs into the United States without having to be processed by the authorities,” she said.

  You could hear a pin drop. I stared at her as if she had suddenly lost her mind.

  “What! No, that’s not true—you’re mistaken. Mom, what are you saying? C’mon mom, you know the Mozis. We’ve been to their house, to their parties, and I have never seen any drug dealers or mob guys. We saw city council members, senators, and
even the mayor. They’re all attorneys and doctors and…”

  I waited for my mother’s reaction. She had that look on her face that read, ‘sorry Shareef, wrong answer’. I could not believe what I was hearing. The Mozis were the most prominent folks on the block, now my mom was calling them criminals. I listened intently as mom continued.

  “The family has very good connections in the legitimate world, but they had secretly set up a drug ring and money-laundering scheme covering three continents.”

  The news hit me so hard, my mouth and hand opened. Suddenly I heard the glass with the juice crashing to the floor. My stepfather froze in his tracks, and mother shook her head.

  “Mr. Mozi... Lolo’s father…”

  “Mom, I know Mr. Mozi is Lolo’s father,” I interrupted. My stepfather glared while cleaning up the spillage.

  “If you don’t shut up and listen…” Mother warned.

  “Mom, I’m sorry but I’m nervous.”

  “Nervous, why are you?”

  “Mom, I really thought that it was about Lolo, but it’s about her father,” I said, trying to calm myself down.

  I could feel my mother staring at me. I was up, about to excuse myself, but she held her hand up and stopped me.

  “Wait a minute Shareef, there is more,” she said and her voice sounded grave.

  I sat back down and pursed my lips, waiting for the worse.

  “Mr. Mozi was being investigated by the CIA, FBI, and local law enforcement. They had unmarked cars and followed him everywhere he went.”

  I noticed that she shot a deadly stare at Stanley. He must be involved also, swirled around in my thoughts. After all, it was him who introduced us to the Mozis in the first place.

  “Mr. Mozi found himself in the middle of a major drug war. One of the lead figures was killed just two weeks ago, creating a fight for all of the power and control,” she said, making a circle with her index finger.

  Mom calmly sipped her water and said, “They started ripping each other off and were executing other drug dealers for cash. It was open season as all sense of order had fallen apart. It was getting dangerous for Mozi and…”

  “Rita, didn’t I tell you not to give him the police version?” My stepfather interrupted. Mother glared at him before she spoke.

  “Don’t you tell me what to say to my son, please,” she snapped.

  He let out a heavy huff and walked away. I held my mother’s hand. It was clear she was angry with him and not me.

  “Mom, what about Lolo?” I asked, thinking she was going to live with one of her many relatives.

  Instead Mother hugged me and cried. Maybe my stepfather was also part of it all. What was his involvement? He was such a sissy-butt. Maybe he would be a lookout. I comforted her by gently patting her on the back. She smiled, looking me in the eyes. I could see her tears were still streaming.

  “What I’m about to tell you son is going to be very…”

  “Painful?” I asked.

  She smiled, nodded her head. Mom cleared her throat before continuing.

  “Mr. Mozi wanted to do what was right and went to the authorities. He was going to be an informant and would have shut down the entire operation.”

  “How did he plan on pulling this off? Witness protection?” I asked.

  Mother got quiet and all I could hear was the sound of the clock. It was the old-fashioned type with the bird singing every hour. Mother had told me it was a gift from one of her uncles. His name was John. My mother kept his picture close to the clock along with a picture of her dad. Her father and uncle both had been police officers. My grandfather was killed in an automobile accident and his brother had been fatally shot.

  “Men like Mr. Mozi most times outsmart themselves. He was in way too deep, and with his international scheme, there would never be anywhere on this planet to hide.”

  It was the police side of my mother I was listening to. All the training she had undergone made her hard at times. The police was here to serve and protect, she had told me. They will not bother you if you were doing the right thing.

  Mr. Mozi had done the wrong thing and lost everything. Maybe his family would be deported back to Nigeria where they were from. Only Lolo was born here in America.

  “Mom, can Lolo come and live with us?” I asked and did not expect the reaction I received.

  My mother stared at me and let out a loud howl that brought my stepfather running back.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked perplexed.

  “Mom, what about Lolo? Could she come and live with us?” I repeated intentionally ignoring him.

  He did not say anything. Stanley just glanced at me then at my mother.

  “You still haven’t told him what happened?” He asked, and for a moment mother said nothing. Then she slapped her leg and shouted.

  “Didn’t I ask you nicely not to disturb me? I’ll deal with you later. Please excuse us.”

  She glanced at him and I’ve never seen Stanley move faster. I had to chuckle. He looked like a dog with his tail between his legs. No fight, I thought, and looked at mother again.

  “Son, your mommy loves you and I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

  I felt my heart slowly falling into my stomach. Then there was the sound of rumbling. I don’t know if it was my stomach or the clock, or Stanley falling down the stairs.

  “Shareef, Lolo, her mother, and her father were shot to death early this morning,” my mother said.

  Suddenly there was an eerie silence and everything seemed to stop. It was as if life ceased to exist. I could see myself running, but my feet did not move. I felt like I was trying to speak, but no sound came from my throat.

  CHAPTER 3

  I blinked twice trying to remember what had happened. Immediately my recollection overwhelmed me and I grabbed my mother in a tight embrace.

  “Mom…” I cried and she held me.

  “It’s okay, Shareef,” she said, hugging me. “I’m so sorry.” It wasn’t enough. A floodgate had opened and I couldn’t stop crying. “How…? Why Lolo…?” I asked not wanting to believe.

  “I don’t know, sweetheart. It’s crazy for you to understand, but I know Lolo had nothing to do with it.”

  My mom could see the pain on my face and paused. She wiped my forehead before continuing.

  “Lolo was with her father and the bad guys he was working for, well, they somehow found out that he had been cooperating with the police investigations and they came after him. Lolo and her father were leaving for school. They were in his car when his former friends came. They fired thirty shots into the car. Some of the bullets hit Lolo and she was pronounced dead at the hospital,” my mother said then she paused.

  “But why kill Lolo? She’s just a kid. She didn’t do anything… She just wanted to help people and save the world.”

  “Those bastards were just ruthless. There was no real cause. They didn’t give any of the family members a chance.”

  I heard her words and stared up at my mother in disbelief. She did not blink. There were no smiles just the cold facts. It was all too difficult for me to digest. My mother kept on speaking but I could no longer hear a word she was saying. I was in a fog somewhere else playing video games with Lolo.

  We spent many hours playing her favorite game, NBA Live. I still have the last game we were playing saved. She liked playing only because I enjoyed playing it too, and she learned to play only because of me. We were like that from the day we met. She was walking by my house wearing the same uniform that the girls wore at school. A quick calculation and I knew she was a student at my new school. Lolo was a very pretty and kind girl.

  Meeting her was good because I had just transferred and knew no one at the school. Lolo and I became good friends right off the bat. Mother’s story was a dagger through my heart.

  “Mom please, say it’s not true. Lolo is alive. She somehow made it out. She was…”

  Mother was strong and never let me continue down the road of denial. />
  “I’m afraid she’s gone. Sometimes only God can explain these mysteries. She was so young…” her voice trailed.

  But I resisted accepting the reality. I needed to hear more.

  “Son, there’s no coming back from being shot dead. That’s it,” she said. Looking at the pity in her eyes made me want to scream. Mother held me. “Shareef,” my mother cried. “It’s for real. She was killed. I’m sorry…”

  I heard my mother now and knew it was the truth. I realized Lolo would not come by talking about world peace anymore. I could not hold the feeling back, and I let out a blood-chilling scream from the depth of my stomach.

  “No-o-o…!”

  My mother could do nothing but hold me. She rocked back and forth just patting my back.

  “It’s okay, son. It’s okay. She was my friend also,” mother said, holding me in her arms. Together we cried for Lolo.

  “No mom, say it’s not true, please.”

  I can’t remember how, but I must have fallen asleep in grief. I awoke later to find mother lying fast asleep next to me. I hugged her and closed my eyes. I watched as she got up and left me on the sofa. She went upstairs to her bedroom. I turned on the television and saw the news. I was overwhelmed by anxiety and hollered to my mother.

  “Mom, mom, it’s on the news! It’s on the news!” I yelled.

  She met me halfway up the stairs and we ran back down together. My stepfather slowly followed behind. We watched the whole story unfolding on the six o’ clock news.

  The report covered up how Mr. Mozi was killed and tagged it as a home invasion gone wrong. The news showed many of the foreign dignitaries who used to visit and who my family had met expressing their condolences. Something is not right. Their faces showed no remorse, but rather relief. They were all in it together. Something deep down inside told me they were scared for their own lives and who might be next. I glanced at my mother and stepdad, and saw that their eyes were riveted on the news report.

  “Mom look, we met all those guys and their wives. Did you have any idea that they were doing all these bad things?”