Beyond the Hurt

by Akilah Trinay

  “Sarah. Wake up! Sarah. No! Sarah, Sarah!” The passenger next to me lightly tapped me on my shoulder and woke me from my sleep.

  “Are you okay? You were having quite a nightmare there.” The middle-aged, blonde-haired woman stroked my shoulder, hoping I didn’t go into some type of shock. Her son was sound asleep across her lap in the middle seat between us. “Before we even took off, you were knocked out. You must have been really tired.” She smiled, still awaiting the signal that I was OK.

  I looked back at her and smiled; nodding to ensure her I would be all right. The cool air from the overhead vents sent a chill across my body. We were preparing for our final decent into Oakland. My ears popped with every drop in elevation. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of my dream was fiction versus reality. My reality lay right before me, back in Oakland, right where I had recently left to get away from all of the drama and the pain. My body remained slightly sore from the minor surgery, so all of my movements were gradual. Although, uneasy about being back in Oakland, I was grateful to finally exit the stuffy plane.

  “Are you visiting Oakland or returning home?” She didn’t go away. I hoped I could just blink my eyes and she would disappear from next to me. I did not prepare to have a conversation with her. I knew as soon as I answered the first question that another one was sure to follow. Next thing you know she would know my life story. I had no choice in the matter. She seemed like a concerned nurturing woman, hoping I was not a troubled Foster kid who had no future and needed her divine saving. Every time a white person took time out of their day to engage in a conversation with me, I thought it to be for two reasons, to do me some kind of harm or to save me.

  “Just visiting.” I replied turning away from her so she would end the conversation. As instructed by the flight attendant I pulled up my seat and secured the tray table for landing. We received notification from the captain that we were preparing to land.

  “Who is Sarah?” she requested inquisitively, not taking notice to any of the signs that I truly did not want to engage in any further conversation.

  “Sarah is my roommate.” The plane jilted. I cringed in my seat closing my eyes to prepare for the bumpy landing.

  “Well, is she alright? You were calling for her in your sleep.” I kept my eyes closed hoping the nice, kind, nosy lady would die first upon impact. I’m kidding.

  “Well, I can tell that you are troubled. I am a psychologist out of San Francisco,” she slid me her card with all of her contact information, “Call me when you are ready to talk and don’t worry about the cost.” She winked at me like we had some sort of mutual bond. I didn’t want to appear rude, so I thanked her for the invitation. I wouldn’t dare burst her captain-save-a-ho bubble by informing her that Black people don’t go to therapy. Just as the thought released from my mind, she continued, “I know African-Americans don’t typically choose to go to therapy, but you may find it is just what you need to get beyond the hurt.” With the ability to read my mind like that, I was already on the road to conversion.

  I placed the card in my carry-on bag side-pocket for safekeeping. The plane thudded against the runway and came to a screeching halt. Our bodies jerked forward and the little boy that once lay fast asleep jumped up with the movement of the plane, wiping his eyes holding onto his mother. She embraced him and rubbed his back whispering in his ear everything will be ok, we are home now.

  Chapter 15

  Sweets Ballroom contained the usual afternoon crowd for a weekday. The majority of the patrons came on the weekend for events and happy hour specials. Charles went ahead and scheduled a meeting with the owner to discuss ways for him to pay restitution considering the courts ordered him to do so. Despite the demands of the court to pay the fine, his business relationship with Rufus Brown, the newly appointed club manager, superseded their declaration and his operation was set in motion. Charles’ reputation with the ladies and patrons around town kept the place packed on several occasions, hosting parties throughout the year and offering security services when his business was in a slump.

  “My Man, Chuck! How are you holding up?” Rufus shined his solid gold tooth with a smile showing the distinction between his temporary grill and his permanent teeth. He slapped Charles on the back where he sat at the bar. Rufus was about twenty years older, and ten years behind on all of the fashion trends. He was in his early fifties and holding on to the little style he could, but he reigned as a businessman. His silk gold-trimmed shirt and powder blue socks, gave the impression that even when men rocked the style he didn’t quite have it.

  “What’s up Rufus? I’m glad you could work this out for me,” his response not nearly as jovial as Rufus’.

  “You know I got you, Son. Plus, Edmond is a good man. He called me up and told me about everything.” Rufus grabbed a bar stool beside him, climbed atop and told the bartender to whip him up his favorite drink, Hennessey straight.

  “I got a lot going on right now,” Charles started, taking a sip of his water. After two incidents occurring out of his control due to being drunk, he had more than learned his lesson. He thought it best to stop drinking for a while. “My boy was murdered.” He placed his head down clenching the glass in his hand.

  “I heard.” Rufus interrupted placing a friendly hand on his shoulder to let him know he didn’t have to continue explaining if he was not ready.

  “I’ll get you the money I owe you, just as soon as all of this is over.” He lifted his head and quickly put his head back down in shame.

  “Don’t you worry about all of that, I told you I got you! The debt is damn near paid off already.”

  “How?” Charles perked up, raising his head in shock.

  “Don’t worry about it. Now I have some other business to handle. Take your time.” He gave him two more friendly pats on the back and finished the remainder of his drink. He tipped the bartender and retreated back to his office.

  A calm came over Charles after he left. All of the frustration and worry began to subside almost as if things for him were on the verge of turning around.

  He decided that it came time for him to face his boy. Charles had gone AWOL. He needed time to sort everything out and the thoughts and opinions of others just posed an imminent distraction for him. It came time to pick up his phone and speak to the public. Lance was first on the list to contact. He reluctantly dialed his number, knowing that as soon as Lance picked up he would give him an earful. Oddly, Lance didn’t give him a hard time. Charles informed Lance of his location at Sweets and his agreement with Rufus to work out the payment for the damages. Charles knew Lance would try his best to help him get the money if he had to pull from his own savings, but he had already done enough. All he requested was for him to meet him down there immediately.

  “What’s up, Bruh?” Lance walked directly to the bar and took the seat on the opposite side of Charles. Lance was concerned and relieved that he was alive and well. Without warning, he grabbed a hold of Charles creating an awkward moment between the two of them and held him, breaking all guy codes. Charles welcomed the embrace. He couldn’t front. He missed his boy. He sniffled, hoping to maintain his cool and hard-core facade.

  “The funeral is Saturday morning. Mrs. Naples sent me the information yesterday and she would like us to participate. I told her we would be available to do whatever she needed.” Charles quickly tried to loosen his words without breaking his character; but it was useless, he couldn’t fight back the tears any longer. A droplet surfaced in his left eye, then his right, he didn’t even attempt to wipe them away, the stream came flowing down. They briefly sat in the element of silence, paying respect to their fallen brother.

  “If we need to take care of the dude who did this, I’m down!” Lance stated matter-of-factly breaking the silence between them. Word traveled around town, as Darnise informed him, but he didn’t know if Charles had gotten wind of any news. He had been off the grid for all he knew and out of the loop. “Darnise told me that they were not after Elijah.”r />
  “Did you talk to the police?” Charles casually turned and set down his water, ignoring Lance’s previous statement. He didn’t raise his voice just shifted his head to make eye contact with Lance. “The police came by my mama’s salon asking questions and threatening to arrest me for the murder of Tony Watkins, Tanisha’s brother. They didn’t have any evidence so they let me go. Did they come questioning you?”

  “They brought me in for questioning this morning. Same story. They didn’t have any proof, so they let me go.” Lance answered holding back the information as to the entirety of the situation that transpired. He was hesitant. The course the conversation was on made him a bit uncertain of where Charles was headed.

  “Calvin Rogers showed up to my mama’s shop. I walked in on him talking to my mama.” All of Charles’ remarks seemed broken and scattered as if he was attempting to put together a puzzle.

  “What does Calvin got going wit yo’ mama?” Lance asked with total confusion beaming from his facial expression.

  “Charlene tried to insinuate that he was my biological father, but I’m not accepting that! I don’t care if he is anyway. He ain’t been in my life thus far and he never will.” Charles spoke in the rhythmic pattern as a drunken man, yet he was sober.

  “Charlene Tucker was there too? How did all this come together? I gotta admit, Edmond is a Pimp!” he reached out his fist to give Charles dap, but he looked back at him like his hand had a disease. Lance understood and pulled his fist back and dapped it himself. I know he’s a Pimp he mumbled under his breath.

  “How are you holding up wit all of this? Where have you been?” Lance questioned changing the subject.

  “Remember Shorty from the Shadow Bar?”

  “The waitress?”

  “Nah, the young, fine chick you left wit.”

  “Jamie-Lynn?”

  “Yeah her. She let me crash at her place.”

  “What the hell do you mean?” Lance rose up from his seat leaning in toward Charles to get in his face.

  “Oh, so you mad? I’m joking. It doesn’t feel good, does it? I crashed at the waitress’ house for a couple days. She showed a brotha a lotta love. She played hard to get at first, but you know I don’t play to lose,” he smirked as he took another sip of his water.

  “Well I guess it worked out that I didn’t take her number that night huh?” Lance spat back at Charles, proving he had one-upped him. “You very well could have been with Jamie-Lynn.” Lance stated sitting back into his chair, feeling silly for confronting his friend about a situation he had been guilty of. “I had her drop me off to Darnise’s crib in West Oakland.”

  “You did what? You let that fine ass woman slip through yo’ fingers. What were you thinking? Darnise has never been worth it!” he responded with disgust shaking his head at his friend’s brainless decisions.

  “I didn’t trust her. I just met the girl. I wanted to be where I knew I could be held down. Nisey has been down wit me fo’ years.” Lance motioned to the bartender to get him a drink, anything. The bartender had been listening to the entirety of the conversation. He decided on a Heineken beer and popped the lid.

  “That girl is trash! No offense, but the girl has been making yo’ life a living hell since day one. I don’t see how you deal wit these ghetto broads.” The bar tender shook his head at Charles’ statement, disappointed that a fellow brother fell for the okie-doke.

  “I can’t help myself. It is something about a chick with cornrows, piercings and tats that just turns me on,” he chuckled at his own crazy logic. “But you know, Darnise left me hanging this morning and all I could think about was Jamie-Lynn. I think I am going to go see her and make things right.”

  “Bruh, whatever you do, make sure you hit it one time for me.” They clashed their glasses together in a toast and continued their “catch up” session.

  Jamie-Lynn had just released the last of her kids to the final recess of the day. She was exhausted. The children had been extra rambunctious, high off the fruit snacks and graham crackers donated by a parent who worked at the local Target. She convinced the company to give to the school for being the top elementary school in the city for the quarter. Jamie sat comfortably at her desk, shuffling through paperwork that she constantly put off completing due to her lack of energy.

  “Knock, knock,” he said seductively. Lance stood head cocked with his sexy-eye-scowl, starring straight at her, as she remained seated at the desk, waiting for her to invite him in.

  She tried her very best to ignore him and avoid eye contact, knowing his eyes had the ability to tug and pull her back in luring her into his aura. “What do you want?” she uttered keeping her head down pretending to be preoccupied by her paperwork.

  “I came by to see you.” He walked in assuming that the invitation he was in search of would not be given. He strolled around behind her cluttered desk and stood directly behind where she sat allowing his scent to penetrate her nostrils.

  “What are you doing here? I am at work and I don’t have time for your games. You chose who you wanted that night and I received it loud and clear,” she spoke firmly not turning around to acknowledge his presence behind her, but the battle between her inner self and her mind was nearing defeat.

  He stooped down, pulled back her hair and kissed her on her neck. She jerked to the side and swatted at him like he was an annoying fly. “Don’t be like that,” he moaned. He pushed her paperwork aside, plopped down on her desk and leaned in to grab her chin to get her to focus on him. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he gazed into her eyes hoping that would do the trick.

  “Lance, you don’t get it,” she protested pushing his hand away from her chin and rose up to gain a better position for the interaction. “I was willing to take you as you were, no judgment…” she stopped mid-sentence and just shook her head. “I’m not going to do this here…I refuse.”

  “Ms. Johnson? Are you ok?” a pint-sized voiced echoed from the hallway as he wiped his eyes. To him, it looked like Ms. Johnson was in some sort of trouble.

  “I’m fine, Mario. Thank you for checking on me, go back outside with the other children until the bell rings.”

  “Don’t worry Lil Man, I’ll take care of her,” Lance called back to him as the little boy turned and sprinted back outside to recess convinced that her words were true.

  “It is time for you to go. My kids will be back in here soon and I have to get ready for their science lab,” she pushed out; frustrated that she had to go through this with him. In her mind she had it all figured out. She would swoop in, save him from the unnecessary drama from the ghetto no-good women in his life. He would see the amazing woman in her; change his ways, wife her and they would live happily ever after. However, reality made things far more difficult.

  “Before I go, just hear me out,” Lance grabbed a hold of her wrist as she turned to walk away from him to retire to her desk. She allowed him to continue; her curiosity had total control of the situation. “There is something about you that I just can’t deny. I know I messed up. I got scared. I wanted to be wit somebody who I thought had my back, but all I could think about was you. I don’t really know you and you may think you know me and have me figured out, but there is more. All I want is the opportunity to show you that in one night you had an effect on me. I can’t say what it was, but I know I want to do everything in my power to see what we could be.”

  Jamie closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “My father works for the police department as an investigator. I called him after I dropped you off to keep you protected.”

  “Protected from what?” he requested, letting go of her hand.

  “When I went to see my father the other day; before we met, I saw this woman filing a report against you. I knew it was you from all the stories from your mom. She fit the description and so did you, so I decided to investigate.” Lance looked upon her with bewilderment as she continued. “Then it all made sense when I came down to The Shadow Bar and we ran into her outsi
de, your girlfriend. She was at the station with Tanisha and they were plotting against you. When you had me drop you off at her house, I knew you didn’t have a clue; so I called my daddy to take care of it.”

  “That bitch set me up? Is that what you are telling me?” he yelled in frustration that his boy had hit the nail on the head.

  “Lance!” she harshly whispered back reminding him he was at an elementary school and she would not tolerate his inappropriate language. The recess bell sounded and all of the kids came rushing into the classroom taking a seat at their assigned tables. “We can finish this later.”

  “Oh, so I can see you again?” Lance perked up a bit, licking his lips and smoothing his goatee with confidence.

  “I guess…” she lowered her eyes, but smiled inside. She really couldn’t resist him and she had every intention of allowing him back in if he came and requested it.

  “Oooo Ms. Johnson has a boyfriend,” one of the little girls sang out to the awaiting class causing all of the children to giggle, making Ms. Johnson feel appreciated and embarrassed all at the same time.