His headphones lay on the bed beside him. His phone was on the floor—dropped by accident or on purpose? She didn’t ask. She hadn’t asked him much of anything since the drive-by incident, hoping that time and pain meds and kindness would be all he needed to get past the worst of it. The idea that she could now bring him news of his deliverance made her almost giddy.
“I just got a bizarre phone call,” she said, and then proceeded to explain in as calm a manner as possible what Everly had told her. Then she said, “It’s a really promising development—and also proof that Brad Whitman is a nasty excuse for a human being. He jacks you up, causes you no end of trouble, and now he wants to be your savior.”
Xavier said, “Fuck him. The damage is already done.”
He meant his scholarship, his job, his reputation, his hand, his career. And probably Juniper, too. Juniper, who’d made no effort to see or contact him or set things right.
Valerie said, “That’s not true. You’re not in prison. You won’t go to prison.”
“I won’t go to college, either. I won’t have a profession. Probably won’t even be able to get a new job.”
“Honey, the charges will be dropped.”
“The arrest record won’t.”
“We can work on getting it expunged.”
“And can we undo all the news stories, too? And the neighbors avoiding me or looking at me like I’m dirt, or being afraid of me? Can we stop rednecks from trying to kill me?”
His words made her want to cry. Still, she had to be positive and upbeat, set an example for him to not only see but feel and follow.
She said, “After a time, all of that will fade.”
He turned his head away to face the wall. “How much time?” he said dully. “And what am I supposed to do until then?”
“Come on, Zay. It’s all going to get better now.”
“Is it going to save the tree? No. Will I ever play guitar again? No. Is it going to bring Juniper back?” There it was, out loud. He said, “No, it’s not.”
Valerie started to say, “Why would you even want her—” and then stopped herself. “I’m sorry. This has all been stupid and wrong and I know you’re hurting in every way. Speaking of: Did you take your four o’clock pill?”
He shook his head.
“I’ll get it for you, and some apple juice. That’ll be a start.”
He turned his face toward her. “Yeah, all right. Thanks. I need to get over myself. It is good news—for me anyway.”
“Everything that’s good for you is good for me, too. I can plant another tree, right? But you’re my only son.”
“Hey,” Xavier said as she started for the door. He was moving himself into a sitting position. “Could you hand me my phone? I’ll call Harrington and tell him what’s up.”
Valerie couldn’t suppress her relieved smile as she picked up the phone from the floor and handed it to him. “I expect Mr. Everly will contact him, but I know he’ll be glad to hear from you, too.”
* * *
Brad was in the Maserati driving home from work, rain beating down, when he finally reached his friend by telephone. “Hey, Tony, you know how much I appreciate you going to bat so strong on that rape thing for me. I just about couldn’t see straight, I was so shook up.”
“Glad to help a friend when I can,” Tony said.
“Good, right. So here’s what I need from you now. I’m working out a deal that’ll get me completely out of that mess with the mother’s dying tree. I just need you to drop the charges on the boy. I think he’s learned his lesson, don’t you?”
“Drop the charges, you say?”
“Yeah. Not really necessary to go further. Date rape—is that really even a thing? I was all hot about it at first, sure. But Juniper’s doing fine now. She’s having a little time away with her mama and grandparents. It’s all good. The boy got a scare and some real consequences, too—he’s burnt, there’s no doubt about that.”
Rainwater sluiced over the car’s hood and along the side windows. The windshield wipers slid cleanly back and forth across the polished glass. He was a man in a Maserati ad, captain of industry, captain of his universe. Not captain; king.
“That boy assaulted you,” Tony said. “He threatened Juniper with a terrifying knife, got her drunk, dragged her into a dark cabin—he needs to either plead to something reasonable or face a jury.”
Brad, still feeling the confidence of his plan, said, “Now, take your DA hat off for a minute and see this. If you spring him, you save Kevin and me and the city a half-million dollars, and that’s not counting legal fees.”
There was silence for a moment, and Brad glanced at the car’s display screen, thinking the call had dropped. Nope.
Then Tony said, “How did I get to be district attorney?”
Brad downshifted to take a corner, saying, “What do you mean, how? You were a damn good prosecutor and just as good a schmoozer. The voters love you.”
“That’s right. Now consider: I have a black man accused of the kidnapping and rape of an upstanding underage white Christian girl—a virgin, no less. The public sees this man as a threat to every other young white girl out there. I let him walk, I get all manner of hell rained down on me.”
“No—see, you just say new evidence has come to light and it wasn’t him, he’s not the one, and you won’t hold an innocent man a minute longer. Blacks will love you for that. I’ll make a statement saying I was mistaken in identifying him.”
“But you weren’t, right? You aren’t trying to tell me you made any part of this up. Because if you think you can—”
“Hell no, I’d never do you like that—but if I’m not interested in seeing him punished any further, you—”
“I like you, Brad,” Tony said. “You don’t cheat at golf. You contributed to my campaign. We’ve had some laughs together. You’re a solid citizen. But you do not get to use my office to play chess with that woman who’s suing you or with anybody else. Am I being clear? I am not your pawn.”
“Jesus, of course not. I only thought that since we’re pals—”
“The police brought me your complaint, I evaluated it—quickly, just as you asked me to—and based on the information, I brought charges. I still believe those charges are appropriate, and I’ll get a lot of credit from the right people by putting this one in the ‘win’ column. You’re going to have to resolve your lawsuit some other way.”
“Yeah, okay, sure,” Brad said. “No problem. Thanks.”
When the call was done, he swung around another corner and headed back to the highway to put the car through its paces, work out his frustration, see if he couldn’t find another way to skin this damned cat. Goddamn Tony. See if he’d contribute to his next reelection campaign. Old Brad Whitman did not appreciate being made to look a fool.
46
The bad news came to Xavier from Carl Harrington.
Xavier was sitting at the kitchen table looking up potential colleges he might yet be able to attend and texting with Valerie about her weekend plans. She and Chris were supposed to be going to his daughter’s wedding in Chicago tomorrow and making a little vacation of it, but now, as she was at the mall doing last-minute dress shopping, she was vacillating.
This is dumb. I should just cancel.
Canceling would be dumb. He typed slowly, using just his index finger. I’ll be fine.
I hate all these dresses.
Just pick one.
Are you sure you can manage that splint?
I can skip showers until you get home.
That last was a joke. He could manage the splint. He could manage whatever was needed because now (he thought) the end of the nightmare was imminent. He wouldn’t have said his future looked bright; he’d lost far too much for that. There was, however, some possibility of light where before there’d been the threat of none.
This, just as his phone rang.
—We want to stop the story here. We want to yell, Don’t answer the phone, Xavier, the wa
y you do when you’re watching a horror flick. Don’t investigate that noise coming from the basement; no good can come of it. Run.
But they always investigate the noise. They always answer the phone. It’s as if it’s fated. People can’t go against their own natures; if they could, they wouldn’t have gotten into the messes they’re in, right?
(Wrong.)
“Hey, Carl,” Xavier said, answering. “What’s up?”
“I don’t have room in my schedule to see you until tomorrow, so apologies for doing this by phone, but it can’t wait: I checked in with the DA’s office and Whitman didn’t come through. I don’t know if it was a bullshit promise to start with, or he spoke too soon, or the DA changed his mind, or what. I couldn’t get a straight answer. Doesn’t matter. We’re back where we were.”
Xavier’s heart stalled, turned to stone, dropped into his stomach. “How could he even make the offer unless he—”
“Don’t waste your brainpower on that. Do what you need to do to make a decision on pleading down, if possible, or standing trial, because if we’re going to trial, I’ve got to start preparing.”
No.
Xavier was in a well. Black. Dark. Deep. Cold. The walls were close around him, squeezing him, pressing the breath from his body.
“Did you hear me?” Harrington said.
Pleading? No. No. If you plead guilty when you’re not, you’re giving away every piece of you that matters. Pride. Integrity. You’re giving away your freedom. Just handing it over as if it means nothing to you, like they deserve it, like you’re fine with wearing chains as if you’re a dangerous animal. Fine living behind steel bars, sharing your ten-by-ten with a man you don’t know and wouldn’t want to. Fine with the criminal record that will ride your back for the rest of your life, if they ever let you out. You plead guilty when you’re not, you’re saying, Here, take my self-respect because I’ll never be able to use it again. Plead guilty when you’re innocent and you’ve let wrong win the battle against right.
No.
Trial? Black men never prevail against odds like these. A trial would be futility made into spectacle. It would mean weeks of sleeplessness, of being nerve-sick every day, of having hope and dread churn in his stomach (and his mom’s) while the DA gave press conferences full of verbal winks on how you had to make an example of “boys like Xavier” because “date rape” was “a national crisis.” It was thousands and thousands of dollars spent for him to sit in a courtroom being scrutinized and vilified, having lies told and truths ignored, being dissected alive for the entertainment of rich white men who a few decades earlier would’ve gotten their thrills from watching him swing.
No.
“Xavier?” said Carl Harrington.
“Yeah. Yeah, I heard you.”
“Your prelim is Tuesday. I need your answer Monday morning, latest.”
Xavier made his mouth move again. “Understood.”
“I’m on the run right now. Can you call Everly? Sorry about this, my friend.”
“Sure.”
“We’ll sort it out.”
Xavier pressed end.
* * *
We declare our right on this earth to be a man, to be a human being, to be respected as a human being, to be given the rights of a human being in this society, on this earth, in this day, which we intend to bring into existence by any means necessary, said Malcolm X.
Xavier closed the book and slid it back into its place on his bookshelf. He went to his computer and opened a bookmarked YouTube page.
We all, regardless of the color of our skin, are bound by a moral duty to demand equal and just treatment for all women and men under the law. When the structures of law fail us, we are morally bound to use every tool at our disposal to ensure that the injustice is not allowed to stand, said Tom Holt-Alston.
* * *
When Valerie arrived home, Xavier was again sitting at the kitchen table. He hadn’t called Everly, and he pretended Harrington hadn’t called him. He’d had time to think about things. He wasn’t going to need Harrington anymore.
He said to his mother, “Hey, so you found a dress?”
She set a shopping bag on the table. “Yes, but I really think it’d be better if—”
“You’ve had this trip planned for months,” Xavier said. “Go. You don’t need to stay home and babysit me.”
“What will you do all weekend?”
“Read. Watch stuff. Same as if you’re home. So just go, okay? You hovering over me every second’s getting old.”
“Zay—”
“It’s insulting, if you want to know the truth. I’m not a four-year-old.”
“You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’ve been your mom for eighteen years, so, you know, it isn’t easy to turn off that switch. But you’re right. I’ll go with Chris. I’ll have a nice time. You’ll be fine here. And I’ll be home again Monday night. All good.”
Xavier nodded as if he were satisfied. He was not, but he would be if he could hold on to his convictions with the strength shown by so many men and women before him, his parents included. He could see only one route now to the kind of satisfaction he required.
47
Being stuck under the family microscope the way Juniper had been these past couple of weeks had worn her down to barely a nub of herself. She was eating little, sleeping less. What was going on with Xavier? How had things gone with the police questioning him? Had he gotten her note? Had he tried to reach her—or was he determined never to bother with her again? She imagined him telling himself, Forget her, she’s nothing but trouble. She imagined him being glad to be rid of her.
The adults (including Julia and Lottie, who’d stayed two weeks but now had to get back for Lottie’s doctor appointments) had been strict with her, denying access to any telephone and keeping watch over her activities. What were they so afraid of? Did they think she was going to plan a secret escape with Zay, the two of them sneaking off to, what, Montana or someplace where they could disappear into the hinterland, never to be seen again?
As if.
If only.
No one would tell her anything except how good it was for her to be out here in nature, to get away from all the stresses at home. Hiking. Fresh air. Waterfalls. Birds. Bears. “You’ve been through a lot. You need R&R.” Except her mother saying, once, “Don’t talk to me about love. He doesn’t really love you, he used you, Juni. Whatever comes his way, he deserves it.”
So she’d had to resort to deception. Wireless internet wasn’t even an option out here, the house being tucked into a valley eight miles from anything that resembled civilization. They did have dial-up on the old desktop computer in the nook off the kitchen, though, so in the middle of one night near the end of the first week, Juniper snuck downstairs to try to get online, but she’d been unable to get past the password screen and was locked out. When she came down for breakfast that next morning, she got lectures from everyone—on respecting others’ property, on being deceitful, on needing to accept hard truths about Xavier and herself. They all just wanted what was best for her, couldn’t she see that?
“What’s best is if you all will just tell me how Xavier is!”
“Tell her,” Lily said from the table where she was eating Froot Loops from the box.
“He’s fine,” Julia told her. “Home, going about his business.”
“Mom. Is he in trouble, though?”
“The legal system is doing its job.”
“Which means what?”
Lily said, “Yeah, what?”
“Honey,” their grandfather said to Juniper, “it’s hard to accept that there are rotten people in the world who’re willing to mistreat others for their own gain. We understand how you must be feeling. It’s an ugly truth. We wish we could’ve protected you from that.”
“We can protect you from making it worse for yourself,” said Julia. “We are protecting you.”
“So this gathering is just one giant lovefest for me and my well-be
ing,” Juniper said. “Great.”
“I love you,” said Lily.
Julia began, “You’ll thank us one—”
“Save it,” Juniper had said, exiting the kitchen through the back door.
Today, though, she was going to get a break.
* * *
“You’re sure you won’t go with us to Dollywood?” asked Katie Whitman, Juniper’s grandmother, on this, the first morning after Julia and Lottie had returned home. “We’re going to the water park. Lily would love it if you’ll come.”
“No, thanks,” said Juniper. She’d already been there once this visit, and she wanted some time to herself. The sole benefit of being here was that she got to spend her time outdoors in the woods and fields.
Katie said, “What will you do with your day?”
“The usual, I guess. Help Grandpa if he needs it. Go for a hike. I still haven’t found that wild violet I saw in my guidebook.”
“He’s got a dentist appointment this afternoon—root canal, poor guy. You’ll have to go with him, you know.”
“That’s fine,” Juniper said, though she thought it was ridiculous. And then she thought of something else. “It’s no problem at all. I can read while he’s in there.”
“All right. Well, there’s still some macaroni salad, and I bought the grape soda pop you like.”
“Thanks.”
Katie looked at her with sympathy. “Hang in there, girl. Everything will be back to normal before much longer.”
“Sure,” Juniper said.
Normal was the last thing she wanted now.
* * *
“You’ll be all right, waiting?” her grandfather asked her when his name was called. Juniper held up the book she’d brought. He said, “Good. This shouldn’t be too long. Hour and a half, maybe.”
She sat with her book, letting maybe five minutes pass, then got up and told the receptionist, “I need to use the bathroom.” She’d pressed her hand to her belly and fixed her expression into one of discomfort.
A Good Neighborhood Page 26
