Full Circle

by Dillon Watson

  The rest of the morning passed without further provocations and she was able to make good inroads on the meeting materials. At five till noon, she backed up her work, grabbed the folder with copies of the job description and her cover letter, and then grabbed leftovers from the fridge and headed to Marianna’s break room. She passed Ilene by the stairwell. As she geared up for battle, Ilene glared but walked by without a word. Somehow that seemed worse than a snarky remark.

  She spotted Marianna waving from a table in the back of the break room. “Crowded today, huh?”

  “Practically had to push somebody out of the way to snag the last table,” Marianna replied. “Please tell me some of the Brunswick stew made it.”

  “Saved it just for you.”

  “Sit. I’ll do microwave duty.”

  When Marianna returned, Mikaela was enjoying a Diet Cherry Coke, her price for sharing her leftovers. “Wish we had these upstairs.”

  “Then what would I bribe you with? Hey, were you a little sore this morning?” Marianna settled in across from Mikaela and scooped a generous portion of Brunswick stew onto her plate. “I woke up this morning and thought Erin must have beaten me during the night.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you to keep any talk of your depraved sex life to yourself?” She laughed when Marianna stuck out her tongue. “Surprisingly, I felt fine. Well, my muscles did anyway. Come to think of it, I was too pissed off at Nina’s actions to feel anything but anger this morning.” It hadn’t been enough for Mikaela to vent to Casey. She’d called Marianna and given her an earful as well.

  “You still mad about that? I thought I talked you down last night.”

  “That would be yes for the first, no for the second. But we can trash her more later. First, read this.” She handed Marianna a copy of the job description. “Then this.” She passed her the cover letter and took another sip of her drink while she waited. “Well, what do you think?”

  “I want this job.” Marianna looked up. “But seeing as you covered yourself so well in the cover letter, why would I bother trying? If they don’t hire you, they’re crazy.”

  “So the cover letter works?”

  “Big time. How long is it open for?”

  “Two weeks. Two long weeks.”

  “Oh yeah, you’re going to be catching hell. This dumps The Three in the junk mail folder.”

  “I passed Ilene on the way down and she didn’t open her mouth. That’s some serious fury.”

  “Probably on her way to put the finishing touches on the voodoo doll that, strangely enough, looks just like you.”

  “Not funny. I think they’ll be more direct than that. In fact, I’d be surprised if she or Christine don’t complain to HR.”

  “Let them. They have nothing to complain about. Maybe in their little fantasy world they get to have a say, but not in the real world the rest of us inhabit.”

  “Like that will stop either one of them. You watch, somehow they’re going to find a way to blame this on me.”

  “Don’t see how they can. Job qualifications are on HR. Once again you’re trying to make problems where there are none.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  Marianna smiled. “It really is. Now on to your real crisis. I did some thinking after we hung up last night.”

  “And we both know how dangerous that can be. But go ahead.”

  “Okay, now remember I’m just the messenger, but have you considered Nina’s acting this way because she thinks she’s been replaced by a white woman?”

  “What she’s doing is being stupid and childish by lashing out at the first handy person because she can’t have her way.” Mikaela exhaled, fighting off anger at the memory of the night before. “Why should it matter to her who I go out with anyway? Black, brown, white or green. It’s none of her business because, hey, we’re not together anymore—by her decree.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “Saying what exactly?”

  “Okay, maybe she never struck me as the tolerant type, if you know what I mean.”

  A rock found its way into Mikaela’s gut and weighed her down. “What aren’t you telling me, Marianna?”

  “I overheard her say something about me. It was only one time though.”

  Mikaela put down her fork. “One time is too many. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “She didn’t realize I was there. And okay, it was her house, she can say what she wants.”

  “No, she can’t, not and have a girlfriend who’s half white. I may not have anything to do with my egg donor and her family, but that’s like insulting part of me. And she’d be the first person to get pissed off if you did the same thing to her. Rightfully so.”

  “My saying anything was only going to cause trouble.” Marianna chewed on her lip. “It didn’t seem worth it at the time.”

  “I’m sorry you felt that way. My grandmother raised me to see people for who they are, not make decisions based on their skin color.” She took a sip of her soda and decided she needed to take it down a notch. “Sorry. Let me crawl off my soapbox.”

  “Hey, I agree with you. I may judge women by their yummy butchly exterior, but never by their heritage.”

  “I know. I mean, why limit yourself? Grab the rainbow.”

  “I can drink to that.” Marianna raised her can and took a sip. “We okay?”

  “As long as you promise to speak up next time. You could have saved me from wasting a few months of my life, you know.” She picked up her fork, then put it back down again. “God, how did I not know she was a complete asshole?”

  “The sex, the hot body, the good looks? Take your pick.”

  “Yeah, yeah. If I give up shallowness, do you think she’ll disappear?”

  “No.”

  “As my friend you could at least pretend.”

  “As your friend, I want to know what you’re going to do about her.”

  “I’d like to go all Warrior Princess on her ass, but since we both know that’s not an option, I’ll try reason. Use avoidance as a backup.”

  “Actually, I meant about Sara.”

  “Avoidance works there too. What else can I do?” She covered her cheeks, knowing from the heat of them that she was blushing. “Anything else is too embarrassing to contemplate. Think about it, Marianna. She’s minding her own business, and the next minute she’s getting threatened by some woman she doesn’t even know and because of me. If you were her, would you want to have anything to do with me? Be honest.”

  “When you put it that way.” Marianna frowned. “Damn Nina. If you like, you can take Erin when you go talk to her.”

  She actually considered it for a hot second. Erin was just shy of six feet of solid muscle and had kickboxing trophies. “I’d better not widen the circle of trouble.”

  “She wouldn’t mind. She’s got a little non-sexual crush on you anyway.”

  “Shut up. Now I’ll feel funny the next time I see her.”

  Chapter Ten

  Sara didn’t think she’d ever been so happy for her shift to end. She’d finally lost the fight with the low-level headache that had plagued her since shortly after eight thirty when she discovered her visit to the Police Records Department was a waste of time. Reports took the same amount of time to process whether you showed up in person or mailed in the request.

  It hadn’t been a total loss actually. She’d had the pleasure of finding out that reports older than seven years could take up to ten days longer. Ten business days, she reminded herself and trudged up the stairs to level three of the parking garage. Because she’d been late, her usual space on the first level had not been available.

  Now all she wanted was to go home, plop her butt on the sofa and veg out in front of the TV for a couple hours. Then maybe she could clear her head and figure out how to keep her mind occupied until the report arrived, until she could feel like herself again.

  She unlocked her car and wondered if she knew what being her old self even felt like. Her old
self was six years old. No way she could go back to that. No way she wanted to go back to that.

  She climbed into the car, trying to come up with what being her old self really meant and if a piece of paper confirming there had been no accident could change anything. She sighed and realized it couldn’t. She had her memory back and it wasn’t going away this time. If she was lucky, she might eventually be able to let go of the pain. But even then, dealing with the way her parents had died was going to be hard to get her brain around. Car accidents happened with regularity; but someone she knew getting murdered…

  Sara rested her head against the steering wheel, her heart heavy. Being murdered like that—shot down in their own home—brought with it its own set of questions. Questions she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask, much less have answered. Questions that brought the decency of her parents to the forefront. She didn’t think she could bear it if they turned out to be criminals, killed because of the lifestyle they’d chosen.

  “No. No,” she said, shaking her head. Her memories of them might be clouded with the veil of childhood, but they had been loving parents and they had loved each other.

  The thought that even bad guys could be loving parents lodged in her head and her certainty dropped a notch. Didn’t matter. Criminal or not, they’d been her parents, they’d taken good care of her. They’d given her love. That’s what she needed to hang on to, to remember. That was what was important.

  She was backing out when the obvious smacked her on the back of her head. “Idiot!” She’d forgotten about the old newspapers. Before she’d only been concerned with articles about interstate pileups. She needed to head back now and search for murders. Pulling forward and parking, she grabbed her bag and hurried downstairs, then cut through the building to cross Peachtree Street to the library.

  The same librarian was there to help her get set up. She found a tiny article, all but hidden in the back of the local section. The information was no more than she already knew. The article simply stated that a young couple had been found by their young daughter, murdered in their home. Names were withheld until next of kin notification. On the one hand, Sara was pleased to see that the names of the police officers called to the scene meshed with her memory. On the other hand, it meant that it was a memory, that it had happened the way she dreamt it.

  The article in the afternoon paper wasn’t much more forthcoming. The detectives assigned to the case were named, and of course, details were being held back to aid the police investigation. There was no mention of suspects. Sara jotted down the names of the detectives to aid in further searches.

  The rest of the week there were more articles with more information about the murder victims and their seven-year-old child, including names. It was surreal for Sara to read the articles, to know they were about her and her family. Later that week, the time of death was reported, along with a statement from a witness who claimed to have seen a black van parked on the street around the same time. The police appealed to the public for help but made no mention of possible motive.

  Finally two weeks and one day after the murders, Sara found what she was looking for. There on the front page under the bolded title “Murder Mystery Solved”’ was a photo of three men in shackles leaving a police car. After devouring the article, she no longer blamed her aunt for keeping the truth from her. Hell, she wished she had kept the truth from herself.

  Pressing her fingers against her eyes didn’t stop the tears this time. They poured out like giant drops of rain as the senselessness of her parents’ deaths squeezed her heart. Her parents hadn’t died because they were involved in any criminal activity. No, they died because some idiot transposed his numbers and ended up at the wrong house. After killing her parents, he and his partners ransacked the house, not looking for her as the police had initially theorized, but for their boss’s stolen money and drugs.

  An anonymous tip had led the police to one Keyshawn Murphy and one of the guns used in the shooting. Hoping for leniency, Keyshawn rolled on his partners. Sara didn’t know whether to be glad or upset when she saw the follow-up story about the death of Keyshawn and one of his partners while they were out on bail and the disappearance of the third suspect. There was speculation they’d been taken out because of their very public failure.

  She removed the microfilm from the machine, feeling numb. She had her so-called closure, knew the how, the who and the why. One day it might bring her comfort. But not today. Today she would mourn the loss of her family.

  * * *

  The streetlights were on when Mikaela trudged up the hill to home. A last-minute request for a report had sent Talya into a tizzy, which led to both of them working late to ensure it would be at headquarters first thing in the morning. So now she was tired and hungry in addition to being mad.

  Not surprisingly, she hadn’t been able to reach Nina, despite leaving numerous messages. Mikaela figured she was hiding out, hoping the incident would blow over, be forgotten. Well, that crazy bitch had another thing coming. Threatening Sara wasn’t going to be forgotten as if it never happened. How could she forget when she’d spent too much time today thinking about that stolen infinitesimal chance?

  As usual, her thighs quivered in relief upon reaching the gate as her brain told them the hardest part of the trek was over. But relief quickly vanished as soon as she spotted a big, black SUV parked in front of Casey’s condo. A quick check of the vanity tag, 2G2BT, confirmed her suspicion. How the hell had Nina gotten through the security gate? And why? Her step quickened and anger, banked the whole day, flashed over. If Nina wanted some nerve, she’d damn well give her some.

  Casey opened the door before Mikaela could get it unlocked. “I guess you know who’s here.”

  “Yeah,” she said, her smile tight. “Seems I owe apologies all the way around.”

  “Don’t apologize. I let her in.”

  “Why? I was hoping to keep you and anyone else out of this mess.”

  “I thought the sooner you got this over with, the better. For all of us.” Casey gave her a half smile. “And here she doesn’t have her posse to back her up. It’s two to one and I like those odds.”

  “Smart,” she said and relaxed her shoulders. “I like those odds too. And now I don’t have to drag my tired ass to her house and lay siege.”

  “She’s parked in the kitchen. I wanted a chance to talk to you first. Make sure I didn’t have to hustle her out.”

  Mikaela propped her bag against the wall, threw her coat over the coat rack and took a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

  “You go ahead. I’ll stay out here on alert.” Casey stood ramrod straight, her hands behind her back.

  “Okay, GI Jane. I feel so much safer now.” When Mikaela entered the kitchen, Nina was standing by the sink, looking out of the window onto the minuscule patio. “Well, don’t you have some nerve, showing your face around here.”

  Nina turned, her smile as arrogant as ever. “You’re the one who’s been trying to get a hold of me. Last time I checked, it was six calls. Miss me much?”

  “God, you’re an ass. You know damn well why I’ve been calling you, and it has nothing to do with missing you. I didn’t miss you after you kicked me out, why the hell would I miss you now?”

  “Come on, Mike, last night was simply a misunderstanding. No need for upset. If you want, I’ll even apologize to that wanna-be security guard.”

  “Misunderstanding? That’s what you’re going with?” Laughing more from frustration than humor, she grabbed her head and squeezed, afraid it was going to blow apart. She’d obviously crossed the threshold to an alternate universe. There could be no other explanation.

  “Let me see if I got this right. Ordering Sara to leave me alone was a misunderstanding?” Nina nodded. “It’s been a long day, so please explain to me how that could possibly have been a misunderstanding. I’m obviously confused. And while you’re at it, explain about the part where you threatened to kick her ass and the kind of misunderstanding that was.
”

  Nina held up her hands. “I don’t know nothing about that. Not my fault when some white girl thinks I’m threatening her just because I’m black. I was trying to figure out where I knew her from. That’s it.”

  “So this is all black and white, huh?” Mikaela hoped the disgust she felt showed on her face. “You’re a liar, Nina. A bad one. And guess what? I don’t have to deal with liars in my personal life, so bye-bye.”

  “Who you calling a liar?”

  “That would be you,” she said, jabbing her finger in Nina’s direction. “I don’t know what’s going on in that tiny little brain of yours and frankly I don’t want to know. What I do want is for you to stay away from me, stay away from my friends, stay away from my job. Hope that’s simple enough for you.”

  “What? You think you can tell me what to do?” Nina’s lips twisted into a sneer. “You’re delusional.”

  “Why are you still here? I’m done with you.”

  “Just like that, huh? You ain’t gonna give me a chance to say my side.”

  Mikaela grabbed her head again and screamed. “Enough! I don’t know why in your limited wisdom you suddenly decided you have to have me when six months ago you couldn’t get rid of me fast enough. But know this. I do not care,” she said slowly. “Please get that through your incredibly thick skull. I don’t care about you. I don’t want to care about you. I never will care about you again. How hard is that to get?” She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and figured Casey had been drawn by her theatrics.

  Nina’s eyes burned hot. “You always did think you were more than you are. Don’t know why I’m wasting my time on your bougie ass when there are plenty of other women out there. Real black women who appreciate a sista.”

  “Don’t you dare make this about race,” she said, her voice rough and shaky. “This is about me and you and the fact that I don’t like you anymore. Wouldn’t like you if you were white.”

  “Now you’re breaking my heart.”

  Mikaela wanted the feel of Nina’s thick neck under her hands. Wanted to squeeze it until her eyes popped out. But she didn’t because the bitch might like it. “You don’t have one to break.” She turned to Casey. “Will you show our guest the door, please?”