by Sheela Chari
Meanwhile, Mom and Dad grilled me on everything. While they did, Cheetah stayed with his face in the sofa cushion, but I knew he was listening as I explained about the necklaces and Peter’s uncle Richard, and Randall being gone because he was looking for the diamonds. It took a long time and Mom and Dad butted in with more questions, but mostly they let me talk.
“Margaret,” Mom said at the end of it. “She engineered the whole thing.”
“She gave me the key to her attic,” I said. “Did she want me to find Rose’s things?”
“Margaret’s always had that way of bringing people together, hasn’t she?” Dad mused. “She was the one who rented her house to Shanthi. It’s like she wanted Myla and Peter to meet.”
“Or Randall to be found,” Cheetah mumbled.
Mom shook her head. “How could she expect these kids to solve so many problems?”
We all fell silent, speculating over what Margaret did or didn’t intend by making Peter and me neighbors. Was she playing God? Or was it all a big coincidence?
“Well, one problem’s solved,” Dad said. “Can you believe Myla climbed down a window?”
Mom shuddered. “You could’ve had a lot worse happen tonight. Didn’t you realize that?”
“I was too busy,” I said. “I didn’t have time to think about falling.”
“I knew Myla wasn’t scared of heights anymore,” Cheetah mumbled again. He still wouldn’t look at me from the pillows.
“Can Cheetah and I be alone?” I asked.
While Dad and Mom were in the kitchen, I turned to Cheetah. His back was to me, but he had lifted his head from the cushion. “Did you know Randall did the Oms? And he’s Mighty, too?”
He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Really?” he asked.
I nodded. “I think he used to be a jerk. Like, Peter was really mad at him for running off. But they’re okay now. I think Randall feels sorry.”
“Like you?” Cheetah asked.
I sighed. “Yeah, Cheet. I shouldn’t have left you to be lookout. It’s just I didn’t want you to get hurt. See, Peter and I had this idea.” I told him our plan to paint Oms all over Dobbs to stop everyone from finding the real Om. “But I’m glad we didn’t do it, that we found Randall first.”
“You could paint your wall instead,” Cheetah said. “If you get tired of paper.”
I smiled. “I like paper.”
“Sometimes I go to your room to look at your wall.” He twirled the cushion tassels with his finger. “That’s why I was jumping on your bed when I broke it. I thought if I jumped, I’d see more of your wall. I’d see more of you.”
“Cheet!” I felt suddenly smaller than ever. “You see a lot.” I put my arms around him, even though I knew he wouldn’t like it. We weren’t the kind that hugged. He just sat there stiffly, letting me hug him, but he didn’t move away either.
Finally I let go and asked what he’d done while I was gone. So he described how he’d made up excuses like wanting a glass of water from downstairs to pretending to stub his toe—anything to keep Mom and Dad from my room. He also stuffed pillows under my sheets to make it look like I was sleeping in my bed.
“Wow!” I said incredulously.
“I read Harry Potter with a flashlight in your room. I figured I’d wait for you. But then I forgot about my bed. Mom saw I was missing, then figured out you were the one gone, not me.”
Cheetah had done a lot. He had looked out for me, more than I thought he could. He was just like Peter, who had been searching for his brother. Cheetah had been searching for me, too. Why hadn’t I noticed it before?
“Tomorrow let’s decorate your wall, Cheet,” I said suddenly. I didn’t know why, except it was something I liked to do, and maybe he would, too.
“Really?” Cheetah flashed the biggest smile.
“Yeah, but with your own words. Like ‘sequester.’”
He made a face. “I like ‘illuminate’ better. And ‘bravado.’”
“I think everyone should go to sleep,” Mom said. As Dad helped me upstairs, I looked at the gray-and-black bandanas belonging to Nike around my ankle. I wasn’t sure how I’d get them back to him, if I’d ever see him again. I was hoping I would, though. He had pretty eyes, if you can say that about a boy. I liked his nickname, too, and his hair that was frizzy like mine.
Dad helped me to the bathroom and waited outside. When I came out I said, “I was wondering, maybe you could start teaching me yoga.” I hopped a little. “I mean, when I’m better.”
He looked at me and smiled. “Okay,” he said. He pointed to my ankle. “Maybe we’ll start with tree pose. You only need one foot to stand on for that.”
“Ha-ha,” I said.
Then as Dad was guiding me to my new bed, I saw it. “Dad!” I shouted. “Look! Someone’s breaking into Peter’s house!”
There’s that moment when you’re standing on the porch with your brother, and you both have on the same Jordans. Which means if you squint your eyes, you can imagine it’s the same as it ever was, without a cop ringing your doorbell, summoning your ma at an unholy hour. Then the door opened and all bets were off. We were in trouble—with the law, and our mother.
“What’s he done?” Ma asked. She was staring at Randall, so I suppose she meant him. What was I then, the invisible son?
“Ma’am, I’m Officer Filnik. I found these two at the new construction site of the Keeper’s House on Walnut. No one was hurt, but I’m escorting them home. This is their residence?”
Ma nodded. “They’re okay?” she asked fearfully.
Filnik said we were. “But make sure they stay away from there. It’s closed to the public.”
“Of course.” She paused. “Thanks for bringing them home, Officer.”
Filnik turned to us. “I believe we’re all lucky when we’re given a second chance. Stay out of mischief. We’ve got a moon again.”
A few minutes later he was unbelievably gone. We weren’t going to jail! He didn’t even take down our names. It seemed impossible that this guy who chased after my brother two nights ago was dropping us off home like a free taxi service. But what was that comment about the moon? Did he know who we were the entire time? Was this his way of letting us off the hook?
The door closed, and then it was us and our ma. And I started having my doubts. So far she hadn’t shown a speck of gladness Randall was home. Like, I didn’t see the sun rise in her face, just a weakening of her shoulders, and a sigh so deep and long it was like air being let out of a balloon. Maybe she was going to ask Randall to leave. Maybe she was going to say he had his chance to be in our family, and now that chance was gone. So we stood waiting, nobody saying anything. It was all quiet and strange and painful. Then Ma started crying. She cried so it was like her crying filled up all the space around us. At last she hugged Randall hard, almost like she was choking him.
There’s nothing better than sitting down together and telling it as it is. Which is what my family did after that crying session ended. Ma made a big pot of coffee and even let me have some.
“You should have seen Uncle Richard getting all bent out of shape when the cop showed up,” Randall said. He did an imitation of Uncle Richard looking mad as hell, and we all laughed. “If I didn’t remember him before, I sure remember him now!”
“So how come he stopped seeing us after Pop died?” I asked.
Ma’s smile faded. “I made mistakes, Petey. I thought I could protect you two by cutting off all relations with Pop’s family. I blamed Richard for egging on Omar to look for the diamonds, and for living a life of danger. It wasn’t fair. Richard may be many things, but he loved your dad. Most of all, I was angry at Rose for all the trouble she caused.”
“Smith said there weren’t many women diamond cutters,” Randall said. “She said Grandma Rose was extraordinary.”
“Ms. Smith,” Ma corrected. “And yes, that’s true. Rose was special. She wanted to carve her own path. Pop was the same way. You couldn’t stop them from
doing what they wanted, from who they wanted to marry, and how they wanted to live their lives. It’s what I loved about your father.”
From her room Ma brought out a cardboard box and put it on the dining table. She pulled out a photo album and handed it to me. She handed another one to my brother.
Randall and I glanced at each other.
“It’s been a while since I looked at them,” she said.
For the next hour, that’s all we did. We looked through old photos. Ma showed us the wedding album, and she named everyone she saw. “See, that’s my parents. That’s my aunt from Baltimore, the one I stayed with when I went to high school. And look at Grandma Rose. She’s wearing pink!”
“What’s wrong with pink?” I asked.
Ma turned the page of the album. “There’s Richard.”
“He’s got a goatee!” Randall exclaimed. “He looks like a fool!”
“Oh, but he had a way with the ladies,” Ma said, smiling. She turned the page. “And here’s your pop and me. Look how handsome he is.” Pop was wearing a blue tux. He had a crooked smile, his arms hanging in that way that looked like Randall. I swallowed hard, but I wasn’t sad. I was grateful. For the first time I was glad Randall looked like our pop. It was like, any time I wanted to remember my father, I could look at Randall, and they were both there, my brother and him.
Then we looked at pictures of Ma and Pop in college. I recognized the background now—the waterfront, Cedar Street, and the Dobbs train station. They’d met at Mercy College right here in this same town. I’d known that, and I’d seen these pictures a long time ago. But there was something sweet about seeing everything now. Like for the first time I believed it all really happened.
At last we got to looking at baby pictures, and Randall and me laughed our heads off. We were ugly babies. I was scrawny and Randall just had more hair than was legal for a four-year-old. Ma said she couldn’t bear to cut his beautiful hair.
At some point I dragged down Grandma Rose’s suitcase from the attic. We sifted through all the items like the diamond-cutting tools, and the purple sweater that even Ma exclaimed over. Then I pulled out the postcards sent to Margaret.
“I think these are from Grandma Rose,” I said. “Who else could they be from? Pop?”
Ma agreed. “That’s not Pop’s hand. The address looks like Rose’s handwriting.”
“But when did Grandma Rose die?”
“About eight years ago,” Ma said. “Why, Petey?”
“Myla and I noticed something the first time we saw these cards. I wasn’t sure then but now I am. These are all postmarked after Grandma Rose died. The last one is two years ago.”
Randall and Ma stared at me.
“What are you saying?” Ma asked. “That would be impossible. I saw the car. No one could have survived that crash.”
“Look at the postmarks,” I said. “I’m not making it up.”
“Maybe the postcards were like code Grandma Rose used to tell Margaret she was okay. That would make her one down grandma,” Randall said approvingly.
Ma shook her head. “Not even coming for her son’s funeral? I don’t believe it. Those postcards can’t be from her.”
“What if the Fencers threatened her?” I asked. “And she had to go into hiding?” But as soon as I mentioned the F word, Ma’s face darkened.
“Those are the people who need to be in prison, that’s what,” she said.
“Who are they, the Fencers?” asked Randall. “Other than being class A jerks?”
“They steal diamonds and sell them for money,” I said. “Right, Ma?”
Randall nodded. “Now I get it. And that Fencer was lying to you, Ma. That night after Pop died. He got the wrong floor number.”
“The fortieth floor,” I said.
“But that’s wrong,” Randall said. “There aren’t forty floors. There’s only thirty.”
Ma nodded. “I knew he was lying already. There’s something else I didn’t tell anyone, not even Uncle Richard.” We waited as she got up to refill her mug, then sat back down at the table. “Your father was found outside the building all right. But the coroner said his injuries didn’t reflect a fall from a great height. More important, he didn’t fall on the sidewalk. He fell someplace else. Somebody moved him.”
“That’s crazy,” Randall said. “That means—”
“He was murdered,” Ma said. “The coroner found a single hair on Omar’s clothes that wasn’t his. We never found a match for that hair.”
“How come you never told us?” I asked.
“Why did you need to know? We moved, that was the best I could do to keep us safe.” Her face pursed together. “And if what you boys are telling me is true, maybe Pop found those diamonds after all. What he chose to do with them after that, nobody knows. But I’m telling you right now, it doesn’t matter. We don’t need anybody’s dirty money to keep us afloat. You hear me?”
Randall rolled his eyes but he said, “I hear you, Ma.” And it was like an earthquake happened, not the kind with the ground shaking beneath our feet, but like two powerful forces uniting together at last. Randall and my ma were actually agreeing on things for once. That’s when I knew something serious had changed in Randall.
After Ma went to bed, Randall came up and looked around our room. “The house isn’t so bad,” he said. Then, “You put up my posters.” He eyed the New York City and Michael Jordan posters on the wall appreciatively.
Just a few hours ago I’d shoved my brother down on the sidewalk. But now I felt a tide of warmth. “So you’re staying?”
He nodded. It was the best brother moment we had in a while, but then suddenly there was a large swooshing sound to our right, of the window being yanked open.
Randall stood in front of me instinctively, his arms spread out. “What are you doing here?” he said to the figure at the window. “Haven’t you heard of the front door?”
Tops jumped down from the sill, brushing off imaginary dirt from his sleeves. “Your house is harder to climb than the Keeper’s House. But it’s got these fantastic footholds. Though Jimmy wouldn’t agree.” He glanced at the window, where another face appeared.
Randall saw him and stepped back. “You brought your thug with you.”
Jimmy jumped down next, untying a harness and rope from his waist. “I’m never doing that again.”
I watched the second guy with a wave of fear. I recognized him right away. He was the one with the rings. Now he was here with Tops, and I knew I wasn’t getting off so easy this time.
Randall’s eyes narrowed. “You dudes aren’t here for the view. What gives?”
Tops walked slowly around us. “Well, it’s that chalk, Mighty. It was vexing, wasn’t it? So close, and yet so far. All these years, I wasn’t sure if Omar had found the diamonds or not. That was always the big question. Then at the Keeper’s House, it was finally answered.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jimmy asked. “What was that answer?”
“I told you, Jimbo. Their dad found them all right. And he had them ever since. Which leads me to you, Mighty.”
“They’re not here,” Randall said shortly.
“I’m not so sure,” Tops said. “I’ve been more patient with you than anybody said I should. And now you’ve played me for a fool.”
“Tops, you stay away,” Randall said. “You and Jimmy go out the same way you came in, and nobody’s messing with nobody. We’ll forget we ever heard about the diamonds.”
Tops gave a laugh. “Mighty, that doesn’t sound like you.”
Randall didn’t say anything, he just stood there, staring at Tops.
I watched them talking, trying to size up both guys. Tops was in his forties, but his legs were two walls of muscle and his arms were battle-axes—he could crush us, one in each hand, and whistle a tune while he did. And Jimmy was the one with rings on his fingers that cut like glass. And now that I took a closer look, the middle one actually had a diamond on it. No wonder I bled the way I did. So we couldn’t u
se our fists with these clowns. We’d have to use our brains to get them out of our house. “You’ve got chalk all over your hands,” I said to Tops.
He smiled. “You’re the nice brother, right? The one without the attitude.”
“Tops always got the chalk,” Randall said, sneering. “It’s his thing, along with thievery.”
Tops’s smile faded. “Maybe your pop should have made chalk his thing, too,” he retorted.
“Of course my pop used chalk,” I said. “He had tons of it.”
“Oh, he used it all right. Just not . . .” He stopped.
“I bet Pop would spit on you if he saw you now,” Randall said.
“It’s your pop who held out on me,” Tops said.
A pulse started in my neck. “You mean the night he fell, don’t you?”
“What?” Tops asked.
“When he didn’t have chalk—it was the night he fell.”
Tops paused. “Not sure what you’re getting at.”
Meanwhile, Jimmy grabbed me by my shirtfront. “What are you all up in Tops’s face for?”
Randall sprang toward me. “Leave him alone!”
I gasped but pressed on, my shirt still in Jimmy’s grip. “Tops, how did you know my pop didn’t have chalk with him that night?”
“I never said that,” Tops said.
Jimmy shoved me so hard I fell on the floor. “What’s the big deal with chalk?”
Randall helped me up. “Lay off with the chalk,” he said to me.
I knew I was going to get a diamond-ringed fist in my face any second, but I went on. “You just said it, he didn’t have his chalk.” I pointed at Tops. “It’s because you were there. You were his PK buddy that night.” I really didn’t know for sure, but at that moment, it was the only thing that made sense.
A look of disbelief crossed Randall’s face. “No flipping way, Petey.”
“None of it’s true!” Tops exclaimed.
“Then how did you know it was thirty floors?” I pressed on. “You made a slip at Keeper’s House.”
