Thin Line

by Anthony Whyte

  “Ah, I wasn’t aware per se…” she started and her voice trailed off.

  Lolo’s face appeared and the news hit home hard. I sat up, my mouth popped open and I stared blankly when the reporter confirmed what my mother had told me.

  “… The eleven-year-old daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Mozi, Lolo Mozi was rushed to the hospital and later pronounced dead.”

  A picture of a smiling Lolo and her father flashed momentarily across the TV. This was followed by a video of three bodies wrapped in body bags being carted away.

  “…It happened this morning at about seven o’clock as Mr. Mozi readied to take his daughter to school. Gunmen waiting outside his home greeted his Mercedes with gunshots from all angles. The would-be robbers fled the scene leaving all the valuables behind. The investigation is ongoing and the police are predicting an arrest will be made in the next several days. This is Andy Redding reporting for Channel 4 News.”

  “I can’t watch this anymore.”

  I got up and searched for the remote but it was nowhere in sight. I ran up the stairs to my room and threw myself on the bed. I must have passed out because when I awoke both my mother and stepfather were standing over me anxiously. I blinked hard to regain consciousness.

  “Are you feeling better, Shareef? I was about to call the doctor,” my mother said. I felt groggy, but I knew I did not need a doctor or hospital. Not now. I needed to be close to home.

  “I feel okay…” I started when my stepfather interrupted.

  “Maybe a little soup will make him feel better,” he suggested.

  I hated soup, but said nothing when I saw my mother nodding in agreement. She stared at me for a minute then said, “Yes, please go and get him some. I’ll sit with him.” When my stepfather abruptly walked out the room, my mother shouted, “Thanks!”

  I closed my eyes as I heard his footsteps going down the stairs. My mother rubbed my forehead and said, “He carried you upstairs right after you passed out. Are you feeling better? I think I should call Doctor Grant anyway.”

  “No mom, really I feel alright. I just blanked out… All that news and stuff about Lolo and her family sent me.”

  “I know, son, it’s a lot of sad information coming at once. I know you’re overwhelmed by it all. But please try to understand and don’t let this incident cloud your outlook on life.”

  “Yes mother.”

  “Have you eaten? I don’t think you’ve eaten anything since school and it’s almost eight. I’ll go fix your favorite frozen pizza. How about that…?”

  “That’s fine, mother,” I said, mustering a smile.

  She kissed my forehead and smiled at me before leaving the room. The door had barely closed when all of a sudden I felt really alone. I wanted to call her back, but I hesitated.

  “You’ve gotta learn how to be a man…”

  That was what my real father always told me. He would tell me that every time my mother left me with him and I’d cry for her. I remember staring back at him not understanding.

  I understood today. Lolo was gone. I stared at the game station and felt a sickness rising in my stomach. I could not go to it right now. It felt like I was disrespecting her or something. Lolo was a good friend. The thought made my tears fall on the pillow. I wiped my eyes and sat up in the bed, but the heavy thoughts still weighed me down.

  CHAPTER 4

  The funeral seemed to arrive quickly. It took the Mozi family and their friends one week to plan. The morning of the funeral was surreal. Three closed caskets, camera crews, police, diplomatic plates everywhere, stretch limos, expensive foreign cars, and people dressed in all black. I stood frozen watching them lower the caskets into the grave plots. I threw eleven long-stemmed roses into the dirt for my best friend Lolo. The rest of the funeral was a haze, and ended with me in a dark cloud.

  The drive home was silent. I went straight to my room without a word to anyone. I could not help but hear the shouting. I strained to hear what the fuss was between my mother and stepfather.

  “I don’t care that you’re a schoolteacher! You will go down to the precinct tomorrow and talk to the detective who has been calling all day. I don’t think…”

  “Why do I have to be the one who is always doing as you say, Rita?” Before mother could answer, he continued. “It’s the same thing you told Mozi, and you see what that got him. Both he and his whole family are lying in the morgue, filled with bullet holes…”

  “They were casualties of a drug war that you’re going to sit idly by and watch spin out of control,” she answered acidly.

  “Yeah. That’s how the police look at what I was doing? Or is that how they deal with the drug war?” He spat the words with scorn.

  “Don’t start with me…” mother warned.

  “Aw c’mon Rita, give me a break. The police did not care what the cost was. All they seemed to want to do is arrest the…”

  “You’re telling me you would rather support these drug dealers and…”

  “I’m not saying that I’m supporting anyone. This is my life you’re talking about. Did you see what happened to Mozi? And he was one of theirs.”

  “You are scared to cooperate with the investigation, aren’t you?”

  “Scared? What are you talking about? I have worked in the public school system for the past ten years with some of the scariest kids this side of the world, and you have the nerve to call me scared.”

  “Then explain not wanting to cooperate with the police and…”

  “I don’t want to be killed—that’s the reason. It’s that simple. Hate me because I’d rather live. But let me tell you, those guys… Whoever killed Mozi and Lolo were good at what they do.”

  “Maybe it’s more than just that, huh?”

  I sat on the stairs and waited for his answer. He must have given the wrong one. Mother was definitely heated. She stomped out of the kitchen and threw herself against the sofa. She settled when she saw me looking.

  “Shareef, are you hungry, baby?” she asked, and I nodded. She walked to the bottom of the stairs. “Go back and lay down, love, I will bring you something to eat, okay?”

  Although she was being super-cautious with me, I could tell that she was holding back her anger. I was relieved that she was not mad at me. I made my way inside the room and turned the television on. I laid down not really looking at the television thinking about why my mother seemed so angry.

  Was it because Stanley was in some way blaming her for Mr. Mozi’s and Lolo’s death? I wonder how much my parents knew about all this mess with the Mozis, and why was she pressuring Stanley to go to the police? Regardless, she must have used her motherly radar on me because she walked in carrying a tray of my favorite food. She wore that nice motherly compassionate look she had when reporters were on television interviewing her after she arrested that boy she said reminded her of me.

  “Mom, why are you and Stanley arguing?” I asked and watched her set the tray in front of me. She pushed the glass of milk toward me.

  “Here, get something in your stomach before you start worrying too much about grown folks’ business.”

  I sipped the milk and munched on a few cookies before I asked again.

  “You know all evening you’ve been acting strange. I know Lolo’s death has something to do with it, but there seems to be more going on.”

  “What’s this? Too much Law and Order. I swear I’m going to monitor how much you watch these programs on TV. They makes you kids think you know more than you do,” she said. I could see this was going to be tough.

  I munched on more cookies. Somewhere between watching me sip milk and furtive glances at the television, mother began to speak. I sat up and paid close attention.

  “Son, whenever you know something about a crime or something bad that has happened, please come and share it with me.”

  She held my shoulders as she spoke.

  “Yes mom.”

  “I’m your mother and I know what’s right for you. If I tell you that the matt
er should be discussed with the police, then I think that’s the best thing for you to do. Trust me,” she said in her sincerest of tones.

  “Yes mommy,” I said, nodding.

  “Your stepfather does not feel it’s right that I should tell him to cooperate with the police and that’s what you overheard. We were discussing the pros and cons of talking to the police, that’s all, Shareef.”

  My stepfather walked in as if on cue.

  “I’ve got cheese puffs and 7UP,” he announced. Mother and I shot him a dirty look.

  “Didn’t I tell you not to give him junk?”

  “But I thought-”

  “Stanley, let me tell you a few things,” mother said. Her voice warned that she was not feeling him. “First of all, Shareef was hungry and I gave him something to snack on. Secondly he’s my son and if I want to give him a snack then I can.”

  “You call milk and cookies healthy?”

  “Look, I’m really not going to sit here and argue about this. You can take this tray and your greasy chips downstairs when you go. Thank you,” mother said.

  Her tone left no doubt that there was a war brewing between them. My stepfather handily grabbed the tray with the cookies and milk.

  “I’ll see you downstairs,” he said. I made a face as he went out the door.

  “I don’t want any of...”

  “Shareef, don’t start with me. Please have some. Stanley brought it for you,” she said, throwing me a deadly glance.

  Then my mother walked out and closing the door behind her. I waited until I heard her muffled footsteps fading then I put down the snack and tiptoed to the door. Slowly, I opened it. My guess was that they would continue to argue and I wanted to know what all the fuss was really about. I peeked out at the landing and heard anger in their voices.

  “How many times do I have to tell you not to argue with me in front of Shareef? I told you it’s not a nice thing for him to experience. I want the best for my child, and I certainly don’t need someone who’s constantly trying to embarrass me.”

  “Look, I’m wrong, but…”

  “But nothing! Always with the excuses…! But this and but that… Just don’t let it happen again. That’s really all there is to it.”

  “You’re right…”

  “You’re goddamn right, I’m right. And I’m right about you going tomorrow downtown and meet with the detectives. You really do need to come clean with your story.”

  “What do you mean come clean? I’ve told them all I know.”

  “No you haven’t.” I had to run to bed and sneeze before returning and checking if either of them detected that I was listening. In other households, eavesdropping may not be a serious offense but around these parts it carried consequences. Needless to say I was really cautious.

  “You’re always speculating. I can see why your relationships failed. You’re suspicious of everyone.”

  “Do not throw my past in my face. You have no right to rehash my past because I shared something with you. You’re not perfect either. Your wife divorced you, didn’t she?”

  “So? We needed to be through with that lie we were living.”

  “Well, if you don’t go and tell them everything you know, and I do mean everything, we are going to be through with this lie.”

  “You call this a lie? I’ve been real with you.”

  “I’m in law enforcement.”

  “I know. So…?”

  “Then you should know that I know everything that happened with you and the Mozis.”

  “Yeah, you should. We went to several of their parties.”

  “That is true. But I never went on the out-of-town trips.”

  “That’s because of those awful hours you work.”

  “Alright, but I never went to the Las Vegas and the trips to the Bahamas and Mexico, Brazil, Jamaica. Should I continue?”

  My mother probably knew much more but liked to tease you into thinking she did not. It was her way of leveling the playing field. My stepfather stood up and began retracing that groove in the floor he had made earlier while pacing. After going back and forth, he paused and answered.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong,” he said then continued pacing.

  “I never said that you did,” my mother replied.

  “You sound like there was something else going on besides someone inviting me on a trip.”

  “You went on several trips.”

  “Yeah, but I never did anything wrong.”

  “If you did, would you tell me?”

  “Of course I…”

  “Then why don’t you be honest now and ’fess up to all…”

  “You’re trying to incriminate me. I…”

  “You can plead the Fifth, but remember the police—we have our ways of finding things out.”

  “That’s what this is about, huh? Are you trying to find out something to—to tell your friends?”

  “You underestimate us. Those detectives have already pinpointed you in lots of those parties in Vegas. Back in early January, a waitress was murdered. She was last seen at one of the parties you attended. She spent the night in your room. Need I say more?”

  Her words stopped him in his tracks and he looked like he had been hit with a low hard blow that ripped his breath away. My stepfather seemed to be reeling when he looked up and our eyes collided.

  “Shareef, what’re doing?” he asked, startling me.

  “Uh, nothing, just coming to get a drink of water.”

  “Shareef, were you eavesdropping again? You better not be, Mister. Get in your bed right now!” Mother angrily shouted.

  I closed the door quickly and made a running leap into the bed. There were no further stirrings heard. I waited for the inevitable to happen. Mother would soon come barging into my room to read the sentencing. This time there would be no need for a trial; I was caught red-handed.

  How could I reverse this situation? She shouldn’t be mad at me, I thought. Thinking quickly I grabbed my backpack and pulled out the textbook for tonight’s homework. By the time they made it up the stairs I was already in the throes of doing homework. Mother peeked in.

  “Shareef, don’t worry about your homework. I will contact the school and tell them you will make up the work this weekend,” she said then closed the door.

  I smiled. Lolo and I always did this. Anytime you get in trouble reach for the schoolbook, sit at the desk and act like you’re stressing the work. It works. But the idea made me drift back to thinking about Lolo and her father. I had a lot of questions to ask my mother, but now was not a good time.

  CHAPTER 5

  I was at the desk staring at the pages in front of me. Tears were rolling and my thoughts were going crazy as I remembered my friend and felt the heartbreak. Lolo was a good person. She did not sell drugs or kill anyone. She was a victim of her parents’ circumstances and actions. It made no sense to me.

  I couldn’t shake the feeling that mom and Stanley were hiding something from me. I wished my mother was in the mood to talk, but she had not attempted to discuss her or Stanley’s involvement. It seemed crazy that my mother could be involved in the death of my friend. I wanted desperately to know what was going on.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the knob twisting and the clanging sound of my mother’s silver charm bracelet.

  “Shareef, I know you are going through a lot right now, but can we need talk about what happened in school today?” I was not ready with all my questions, but I tried to get her to talk.

  “Are you still angry about what happened at school?”

  “Shareef, I’ve spoken to your principal and I thought you did nothing wrong. I’m not going to be angry with you for standing up for yourself. You’re growing, and you’re going to have your own independent feelings about everything. I just hope you learn to look at things rationally and be respectful at all times. Okay?”

  “Mom, are you okay? I mean you’re not mad, right?”

  “No Shareef. I’m not mad a
t you, son.”

  “Then can I ask, why are you angry at Stanley?”

  “Oh please,” she sighed, sounding exasperated. “He and I do not see eye to eye on all things. That’s it. You can stop interrogating me about grown folks’ business.”

  “Mom, I’m gonna miss Lolo.” I heard myself saying it, but really didn’t know where that came from.

  “I love you, son,” she said, and I could feel her tears on my cheek when she drew me close.

  “I love you.”

  We stayed that way for a good minute until mother regained her composure. She walked away, picking up my clothes. Then she turned back to me.

  “Okay Shareef, you’re going to have to do a better job of keeping your room clean. We gave the maid the year off so please cooperate. Go get cleaned up and ready for bed.”

  With that, she swept out the door, and I heard her footsteps running downstairs. I slowly got up and stared at the Lebron James poster on the wall above my bed. Then I got ready to go to sleep. This was absolutely the worst day I’d ever had. I kept thinking about my good friend, Lolo, and how she died.

  It slowly dawned on me that there would be no making up with Lolo. There was no way she could come back from death. I felt a sadness brewing in me, and closed my eyes to contain it but the tears came anyway. The door opened and mother walked into my room. Bending forward, she planted a goodnight kiss on my forehead.

  “Shareef, you will be a better person for this,” she said softly. I stared at her with questions reeling in my head. I wasn’t able to immediately understand her, and was still thinking about being a better person when I heard her say, “Please try to get some sleep, Shareef,” she smiled that motherly smile. Then she kissed me again, and hugged me. Walking away from my bed, she asked, “Do you want the light off?”

  It was the same question she had asked when she arrested that boy who was my age. I nodded not because I was scared, I just didn’t want to see the shadows.

  “Good night, son.”

  “Good night, mom.”

  I closed my eyes but could not stop thinking. She was a good person. Even though she was scared of insects, Lolo hated to see even them dying.