But here was the thing.
He couldn’t look at me.
And it was because of this that I got through the first series of questions: basic things like my name, where I lived and worked, my age, did I know the defendant, how did we meet. Though my voice quivered and my knees were shaking—everything in me shaking, all those eyes on me, except for his—as I talked, the talking got a little bit easier. And every time I glanced at him, even though Hampton had told me not to, his eyes were focused at a spot on the table in front of him, nowhere else. Like there was a screen on its surface that was the source of the story instead of me. I told them about the fair, and our romance, and our breakup, and then last May when he came back to me. Every time I glanced, he was looking down into somewhere else. Anywhere but at the me I was now, without him.
“You were in love with him,” Hampton said.
“Yes.”
“Crazy in love with him?”
“You could say that, yes.”
“So crazy that you continued to date him even though your best friend advised you against it, is that correct?”
Bird oh Bird, I’m so sorry—
“Yes.”
“You wanted to be with him so badly, you didn’t really question much of what he did, did you?”
Hampton had told me not to elaborate, to simply answer yes or no. “Not really.”
“You gave him whatever he wanted, didn’t you?”
A dangerous feeling came up in me then. A feeling that if, at that moment, he looked at me, I might falter. If he only raised his eyes for a second to acknowledge what we’d had, what we’d been—even if it was destroyed now—for just a glimmer, I might take it all back. Might fight for him again. Destroy this whole case. As Hampton went on, asking questions about our relationship, what we did together, if I’d ever met his family or his other friends, a tiny, buried part of me kept aching for the wild, borderless feeling I’d had with him. It wanted to be sucked up into the tornado of wanting him again. To lose myself—all of it—in the hot, damp satisfaction of taking whatever he dished out.
“And you never knew,” Hampton said, “about Mr. Pavon’s relationship with Miss Palmer, is that correct?”
For a second I looked at him. Quivered.
But he was forever blank.
“That’s correct.”
“Did you ever meet Miss Palmer? Or speak to her?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Mr. Pavon never spoke about her?”
“He mentioned her I think once or twice when we got back together. To explain what had happened. That they had been out a few times but were broken up.”
“And did he tell you why they broke up?”
“Something about her family. They didn’t like him.”
“Did he tell you that he was hoping to marry Nicole?”
Did I care anymore?
“No.”
“You found out about their engagement later, is that correct?”
“Yes. It was when the police came to question me.”
“Did you know anything about her at all?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Miss Dougherty, did you have any reason to dislike Miss Palmer? To be jealous of her?”
Dee’s eyes finally came up. To meet mine. And in that moment I saw a pained, pathetic face wearing an expression I was sure—it gave me chills—that Bird had seen on mine too many times. Pleading. Needing. Helpless and weak at even the mention of her, so much talk of their love. I saw that he’d never been the strong man I’d looked up to—only just less weak than I was. And now I could see that his love for her was just as blind as mine had been for him: without any sense of self. A hunger that could never get fed. Because in addiction, there is never enough. His love for her would make them both suffer. It would never make him whole.
“There’s no reason to be jealous at all.”
THE REST WAS GRUELING. FIRST, MY EARLY COMMENTS TO the police, brought out and shown to me, read out loud. “You lied, didn’t you?” Hampton asked, looking like she wanted to rip me in half. Then the real statement, the truth—parts enough to get them away from Bird, anyway—enough to get me in jail and get Dee out of Nicole’s arms. That read out loud too. But it wasn’t enough. Instead Hampton made me tell the whole story again—front to back, from Friday to the end. Question after question—questions I knew were coming but were still hard to answer—guiding me further along. Making me reveal it to this room of strangers, this group of judges. To him. Every detail, every truth.
What I had done.
What he had done.
What we had done together.
The guilt was overwhelming. I’d had distance from it, knew this was what I wanted to do. I’d practiced so many times. But still, in front of all these people, it was impossible to fight. Nicole wasn’t there today—Hampton said it was too difficult for her—but I knew some of her family were. And knowing this, all of Hampton’s questions were made ten times worse. Why didn’t you drive away? Why didn’t you make him drive his own car? Why didn’t you go to the police? Why did you lie? The shame, the wonder at my own stupid willingness flooded over me, seeing all over again how they saw it. Saw me for the pathetic fool I was. I wanted to stop everything, lean in, say a hundred times, I’m sorry. Don’t you see I’m sorry? but it was like Hampton could sense me weakening. Each time I hesitated, she came firing in with one more hard question, pushing me forward. Propping me up.
“You have your own trial coming up involving this case, don’t you, Miss Dougherty?”
The mention of it made me even more nervous. And I was shaken. Spent. “Yes.”
“And this testimony can be used against you in that trial, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“You are also aware that if it’s revealed that you’ve perjured yourself in any way during this testimony, the results could be very grave for you.”
Tears now. “Yes.”
“So what you’re telling us today is the truth, is that correct?”
Shudder. “Yes.”
“The whole truth.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re giving this testimony without any promise from me, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
Her voice meaner, harder—a diamond. “We have made no exchange whatsoever for your cooperation, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re still hoping that the court will be lenient with you.”
“I—”
“Answer the question, Miss Dougherty. You hope that, when it comes time for your own trial, the court will have mercy.”
“Of course.” Wiping my eyes. “I mean, yes.”
“That is all, your honor.”
AFTER THAT, ALL I HAD TO DO WAS STAND IT THROUGH THE cross-examination. Hampton’d warned me Dee’s lawyer would try to make me look bad, and he did, but after already baring everything like that, I didn’t much care. I had already been stripped down. Everybody already knew what I was. And besides, most of the questions he asked—wasn’t this really my idea, hadn’t I been enraged with jealousy, didn’t I make Dee do drugs—I could honestly answer no to.
He was finished with me before I expected. And, like that, it was over. The judge was telling me I could go. I stood up, afraid for a second I wouldn’t be able to, but then I found my legs and began to walk.
I didn’t even look at Dee. I didn’t need to. Instead I focused on Hampton as I passed by. The files all over the table, and what she needed next, took most of her concentration, but she did look up. It wasn’t a smile she gave me, exactly, but I knew enough about her and what I’d just done to see that she was proud.
DOUG CALLED ME EVERY DAY AFTER THAT TO TELL ME HOW the case was going. It took three more days to deliver all the evidence. “The judge likes to take a lot of breaks,” he explained. “The going is slow.”
But even after the case was finished, there was more agonizing waiting. Doug expected the jury to make a quick verdict, but
instead they deliberated for two whole days. He phoned after each time they came in with a question, and each time his voice was just as tight and anxious as I felt. Doug had decided we’d wait until Dee’s trial was over before we thought about changing my plea. And maybe we could. But whatever was happening in there, it was going to affect me too, in more ways than one. I could hear the doubt chipping away at Doug the same way it was me. If the jury was unsure whether Dee really did it, what was going to happen? Would all of this—the whole horrible thing—come to nothing? Would he walk free, just like that? I had been doing this for myself, yes, and for Bird and the people Dee had hurt, but I’d also done it to show him he wasn’t as all-powerful as he thought. I’d done it to correct a wrong. So if the jury didn’t back me up? What the hell was I supposed to learn from that?
The last call came on a Thursday. We’d just had commissary stuff delivered, and I’d gotten a fresh, clean notepad.
Someone called from the guard booth: “Phone call, Dougherty.”
I was surprised to hear Hampton’s voice on the line: wet and trembling. “Nikki?”
My entire body went cold at the sound of her. Numb. “We didn’t get it, did we?”
She cleared her throat. Almost a little girl sound. “They convicted him, Nikki. Denarius Pavon was found guilty.”
I slid to the floor and wept with relief.
• • • •
They gave him life plus twenty. There’d be an appeal, Hampton said. It could be another year, two, before he really started his sentence, and I might have to testify again. There was still my own trial to finally focus on now too. But I knew we’d done it. I knew without a doubt, no matter how long it took, that Dee was finished. Even if he got off for good behavior one day—even if he never felt sorry for what he’d done—he had no more power over me. He could peacock it around prison all he wanted. Outside of it, even. But he would know and I would know and every person in that courtroom would know that he’d thought he was a god. And this girl he’d treated like dirt—this girl he’d tossed around like a toy he didn’t even want—had helped bring him back down to earth.
THE DAY AFTER DEE’S VERDICT, I GOT A NEW CELL MATE, Maude. I spent the next few days showing her the ropes, introducing her to people, learning her story. Priscilla would laugh if she saw it—me, some kind of leader—and it made me miss her.
I was in the common room doing Maude’s hair. We were both talking to Cam, who was getting amped up about her own trial, when one of the guards hollered, “Dougherty, you got a visitor.”
I hadn’t had a visitor in I didn’t know how long. Not outside of the lawyers. Cherry could be in jail herself for all I knew, and Gary still had a lot more time to serve. There was no one left outside who wanted to see me. I’d come to grips with that months ago. Had Dee’s mom come to scream curses? Was it one of his friends, vowing revenge?
But as soon as I saw her waiting in the visitor’s booth, all these thoughts melted behind me. My face collapsed into whatever it does when you feel—all over—a grateful and honest love.
“Bird.”
She was dressed up again, like for church, and she had Jamelee on her lap. She smiled, and it was the warmest, most spreading thing over me.
“We saw on the news. Congratulations, I guess.”
“Thanks.”
Jamelee was grabbing for the cord of Bird’s phone. Bird had to bobble a bit to get her out of the way.
“She’s bigger,” I said. “Getting to be like a real little girl.”
“She’s fat is what she is, but that’s what you want on a baby, so.”
I had so much to say, so much to ask. But I had so much to listen for, too.
“Thank you for coming,” I started. “It’s good to see you.”
She smiled again, this time shyer. “I thought a lot about what I would say to you.”
“I’ve thought about you too. Every day.”
Her face darkened just a bit. I’d already said too much.
“Do you know what’s going to happen next?” she asked.
“No,” I told her, honest. “My own trial, I guess, and then . . .” I shrugged.
“Are you scared?”
I looked at her. “I was. And maybe I will be again. But I’m not right now.”
“You told them the whole thing, didn’t you? I mean . . .” Her eyebrows went down as she tried to find the words. “They’re putting him away because of what you said?”
“It wasn’t just me. The lawyers worked really hard on the case. The police. Detective DuPree. Everyone. But I know my testimony helped.”
She nodded at that.
“I’m proud of you,” she said, soft.
All the tears I still hadn’t cried for her came pouring out. I bowed my head, not wanting her to see. Not because I was ashamed, but because she’d already borne so much. And it was my turn to bear some things for her.
“I’m so sorry, Bird,” I was finally able to say.
“I know you are.”
“And I miss you and Jamelee, and Kenyetta and everybody. I wish you knew me now, the way I am. I would be a real friend to you, Bird. So much better than before. I wish I could meet you all over again and we could—”
But she stopped me, shaking her head. “Things can’t go back the way they were, Nikki. Not you and me. Not like that.”
She looked away.
“There’s a feeling in me for you that’s just . . . broken. I’ve prayed about it nearly every Sunday, knowing I should forgive you. I do feel sorry for you, and I know in large part you couldn’t help it, but there’s just something . . . wrong in me now about the whole thing. And about you. I’m proud, and I hope things will be better for you now. But you and me . . .”
Tears dripped onto my chin when I shook my head. “I really messed things up.”
She didn’t say anything. Her face was sorry, but firm.
I sucked in a deep breath, tried to wipe my face. “Well, can I write you? Sometime? Tell you how things are going?”
She looked at Jamelee. “You can write.”
“Okay.” I sighed. “I will, then.”
I didn’t want her to go. I didn’t want her to walk away with my face full of tears and this strangeness between us being the last thing we might remember of each other, so I asked her how she was. I asked her to tell me about work, our friends, and the things Jamelee had learned how to do. I could see, at first, it was hard for her, trying to talk like things were normal. Like this was a friendly visit. I could see she didn’t want me to think, just because she was telling me about getting promoted to assistant manager at KFC and that she was thinking about hiring some inexpensive college kid to help her with the bookkeeping part of her dress work, that things were better between us. I could see she didn’t want me to mistake this kindness on her part for anything more than that. And I tried to show her—asking her but not asking too much—that I really understood.
We talked for the entire half hour the guards allowed, and it went far too fast.
“I guess we gotta go,” she said, smoothing down Jamelee’s dress and straightening herself up.
“I’m glad you came.” New tears were pricking. “It means a lot to me.”
“You’re not a bad person,” she said, her eyes meeting mine. “You never were.”
“Just one who made a lot of bad mistakes.” My voice was half laugh, half cry.
“And is working to fix them.”
“Trying.” But I was getting too shuddery, thinking of her leaving me. And maybe never coming back.
She stood up, keeping the receiver tucked under her chin while she balanced Jamelee. “Say bye-bye, little girl.”
Jamelee looked at me, big, round eyes in a big, round face. Darling bow mouth like something on the best present you would ever get.
“Bah-bah.” She smiled, very proud of herself.
Bird smiled too. At her daughter, then at me.
“Take care of yourself, Nikki.”
I managed to s
mile a little back. “It’s all there’s left for me to do.”
A WEEK OR SO LATER, DOUG CAME TO SEE ME, ALL IN A flurry.
“They want to settle,” he said, unable to conceal his glee. He slid some papers across the table between us. “In my opinion, it’s because of his appeals and the amount of resources this case is already taking, but it’s also clearly because of your cooperation.”
The world was rushing around me. I wouldn’t have to go on trial? It was almost—all of it—truly over? “I don’t understand.”
“They’re asking for more time than I think you should have to do at all, considering the time you’ve served already, but it’s relatively fair. I don’t want to rush you because there’s a lot to think about here on both sides—the pros and the cons—but, Nikki, this could really be a golden ticket for you. If you decided to take it.”
I looked at the papers in front of me. I would have to go down to the law library, try to get one of the women who hung out there to explain everything to me—even after I heard all of what Doug had to say. It would cost me an elaborate hairdo, maybe a few other things, but I knew I could get help in wrapping my head around it.
“Gimme a day or two,” I told him. “I’ll call you.”
DOUG AND I BOTH PROBABLY KNEW I WAS GOING TO accept their offer. I just wanted a little more time for the shock to wear off and a chance to talk to my friends. Cam was elated and told me to take it immediately. I’d already been through one trial, she pointed out. Rae also thought I should avoid court altogether, if for no other reason than to not have to wait around here for another stretch of forever.
The day of my sentencing, I didn’t know how to feel. After Dee’s verdict, I’d finally been able to let go of this giant rock I’d been carrying around. I hardly knew how to stand up, move my arms, walk around without that weight on me. My brain didn’t know how not to have his trial on my mind. It was freeing, but it was also strange. I had, once again, thought only about him. My own trial had disappeared behind his.
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