needed the distraction of a night out of the house. He had been unnerved by the incident with Clarissa. He realized with some surprise that he really liked her. Watching her frail form being tucked into a police car had uncovered some very tender feelings for her that were ordinarily quite deeply hidden. He felt some shame that he had often acted pretty badly toward her. But that was his way, he thought. His father’s brusque manner made people respect him. Why shouldn’t it work for himself as well?
As he grabbed the 22 that sat behind the suitcases in his father’s closet he felt a tinge of anxiety. If his father caught him it would not go well. It could mean a two hour tirade at least.
“Who cares,” he thought bravely, and put the bullets in his pocket.
Jeremy had gone hunting with his father many times so he had some experience with a gun. But handling any gun always conjured memories of his father goading him to “man up” when he was too young to know what that meant. Being up at dawn, crouching in the duck blind freezing his ass off, did not make him feel like a man. It just made him hate hunting. He shrugged as if to cast off the memories and followed James down the stairs.
Jeremy liked hanging out with James, even though their families could not be more different. Or maybe, because their families were so different. James was the eldest of five boys. Their father was a fireman who never badgered his sons or nagged them about college. They were not poor, but James rarely had extra money so they had to find things that did not cost much. Driving around in a fancy car with his new rich friend made James high even without the pot.
Within ten minutes they were driving down Highland Park Drive, Jeremy joyfully managing his father’s Porsche. They played the radio and sang off key. James took a few tokes of a joint then clipped it for later. They were both happily stoned. Their last morsel of good sense went up in smoke after the last puff. They were on their way to the ‘dark’ side of town where they could get into some serious mischief and probably get away with it.
MRS DELANO FELT just a tad guilty about leaving Jeremy alone after the strange events of the morning but she really wanted to get her business meeting over with. That’s what she told herself. It had become a practiced conversation that she carried on in her mind. The country club needed a chairperson for the charity ball. John Duerson and she had both volunteered. They were meeting over dinner to fight over who would get the job and who would back out. Or maybe they should co-chair as he had suggested. Their business meetings were completely above board and were completely innocent, she told herself, as she freshened her makeup and fixed her hair. She put the tiniest dab of perfume on her left wrist.
John was a few years younger than Marjorie. He was tall with rugged good looks. He was attentive and complementary, flattering her in quiet ways. She found she could talk to him with great ease, the way she had once been able to talk to Daniel.
John decided it might be better not to meet at the club. They might as well enjoy some quiet and some good food. He suggested Maxine’s on the North Shore by the Bay. Since it was mid week, it was fairly empty and they were seated in the front, overlooking the sun drenched water. Marjorie was surprised that all of a sudden her mood changed and some subtle unease crept in. She looked around the restaurant, wanting to know if she and John might be seen by someone she knew. She kept telling herself that it was a business meeting and it was all above board.
“What’s the big deal?” she asked herself. She just wanted to enjoy this quiet moment. She loved John’s easy way with words. She felt smart when she was with him.
They had just ordered and the waiter had brought the wine. They were wrapped in a warm blanket of conversation when the police called her on her cell.
“Mrs. Delano, your son Jeremy as been arrested. He and his buddy were shooting out streetlights with a rifle down on Forrest Avenue. His buddy got away from us but we grabbed Jeremy. We need you to come down and get him. We’re threatening him with Juvenile Hall but this is his first arrest, so we might just scare the hell out of him and send him home with you.”
Her hand shook as she snapped the phone shut. She looked at John and wished she could tell him all the awful things that had happened to her that day. Maybe even cry on his shoulder a bit. Maybe he would hold her and comfort her, and…..
“I have to go,” she said. “Emergency. I’ll explain another time.” She gathered her bag and her sweater. John looked annoyed and stared out across the bay as he poured himself another glass of the very expensive Chardonnay.
As she drove to the South Jamaica Police station she thumped the steering wheel with her fist.
“Damn, damn, damn. Damn it all. Damn it all to hell.” She needed this quiet evening and the dinner with her friend. Such opportunities did not come readily and she hated being cheated out of a rare chance to feel good about herself. She cried a little but by the time she got to the police station she was calm and almost resigned.
She had never been to a police station. She had never been so close to the awful looking people who were sitting on benches, or being herded into back rooms by police officers. The place smelled of crime and poverty she thought. It was a world she had never entered. How could this have happened, she wondered, and felt humiliated by her total failure as a parent. How could Jeremy have come to this, she wondered. How could he do this to her?
Jeremy looked wonderfully sheepish and she knew that even she could handle him tonight. The police had in fact scared the hell out of him and he was duly cowed. His pathetic demeanor changed her immediately. He didn’t even make eye contact with her. She was relieved that no one was hurt. She would pay the damages and Jeremy would pay her back in blood, she vowed. The Policeman was polite to her, seeming to understand the impossible job of parenting a seventeen year old, handsome, very arrogant, fairly rich young man. They probably had a ball scaring the hell out of him when they brought him in, she thought.
“Please don’t let me see anyone I know,” she prayed as she shepherded Jeremy back along the hall toward the door. The awful, long corridor seemed to stretch on forever as she marched her son to the door. She looked neither to the right nor to the left and tried to pretend that people weren’t staring at her. She still looked perfect in her blue silk suit, her hair perfectly coiffed just touching the collar of her blue silk jacket. So she tried to maintain her sense of dignity and her place in society as she paraded down the steps of the police station carrying Jeremy’s rifle.
As she neared the bottom of the stairs, a booming voice growled at her.
“Hey, Annie Oakley. Move your damn car. It’s blocking the drive.”
Africa 1845
PapuTlonga laid the sharp, dried bones of the jackal in a precise pattern.
A long bone pointing toward the rising sun and one toward the setting sun. One toward the cold and one toward the hot ends of the earth. In the center he pounded a long pole deep into the soft earth. Sweat poured down his neck and made his shoulders sleek as he set out wood for the fire in a similar pattern. The afternoon wind blew hot on his back and it swirled around the edges of the Jackalberry bushes and the Moringa trees, sending their leaves to whispering in the hot sun.
The Kaya was situated a near the peak of a small mountain, a cluster of small huts near enough to the river for the fields to be well watered even in dry times. Situated for easy defense it was protected by the inhabitants’ deep connection with the earth and with the Ancestors.
PapuTlonga knew that the moon was not yet showing her most full face but there was no time to wait. He needed to call in the Ancestors, feeling the anxiety of the responsibility that was his. The slavers had ravaged other tribes in their vicious quest for human bounty to satisfy the greed of their masters. He knew they were close. How close he did not know. Fear careened over the villagers and dug into their hearts like an eagle’s claw and they turned to him for their decision. Whether his village could fight them off or whether they needed to ‘disappear’ was the sum of his quest. Other villages did not have the same access to the Ancestors that he had.
He watched the direction of the wind as the tall grasses shimmered