Push Comes to Shove (11 page)

GP nodded.

“Dinner’ll be here in a few. You want to try now?”

GP nodded again.

“Girl, you have to chill with all that crying. You’ll get in touch with somebody. At least you know your next court date.” A shapely woman sat down beside Kitchie. “Dinner wasn’t bad today.”

“I don’t know many people; I don’t socialize like that.” Kitchie wiped her tears. “And the few people I do talk to have blocks on their phones. Court ain’t until next month; I can’t stay here that long.”

Trish giggled and scratched her neck. “Well, when you use your key to open the door, take me with you. Until then, you’re stuck like the rest of us.” She flipped her hand at a large day room packed with women, then rested it on Kitchie’s thigh. “Move in my cell with me; I could use a close friend.” She rubbed. “I’m sure you can use someone you can open up to.”

“Working on another one already, Trish?” A boney woman sat on the bench behind them. “Damn, your last bitch ain’t been gone two days.”

Kitchie removed Trish’s hand.

“Mind your business, Logan. Don’t you have something to do?”

“I’m doing it. Don’t be around here putting the press game down on every bitch you want to lick.”

Trish sighed. “Logan, I don’t get in your shit; stay out of mine.” She began scratching her arm raw.

“I’m not into none of that, anyway. Thanks for the lookout, Logan.” Kitchie went to the opposite side of the day room and stood in line for the phone.

Trish held out a hand. “Come clean.”

Logan gave her a pinch of heroin. “That pretty bitch is so green. I’m gonna enjoy it even more because she don’t know better.”

Trish shook her head. She took a peek at the heroin in her hand.
What I did isn’t as bad as what Logan is gonna do
.

The first person Kitchie called didn’t accept the charges. She held the lever down, breaking the connection.

Thinking.

A woman who looked as distraught as Kitchie, if not more, tapped her. “You done with that?”

“Uh.” Kitchie stared at the keypad. “Let me try one more number.”
I can remember this number by heart
. “Prefix all fives,” she blurted and dialed the number.

The phone rang. Twice.

Kitchie crossed her fingers.

“Hello, Sanders’ residence.” Suzette set a shopping bag of Gerber’s baby food on the kitchen counter.

“You have a call from a correctional institute. Caller, state your name after the tone.”

Beep!

“Please don’t hang up. I need help.”

Junior sprang upright in bed. “Secret! Secret!”

“Shut up and go to sleep before you get us all in trouble,” a biracial boy warned from one of the other beds jammed in the room.

“Secret!”

She came from the girls’ sleeping quarters across the hall.

“What’s the matter?” She squatted beside the bed.

“My stomach hurt. I gotta go to the bathroom.”

“Then go.”

He shook his head negatively. “It’s too dark down the hall.”

“Come on.” She grabbed his hand.

He stepped in a pair of sneakers and pointed them in the direction of the bathroom.

Suzette dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex. “Kitchie, no one should have to go through that. I have so much empathy for your family, it breaks my heart. I wouldn’t have done one thing different, you hear me?”

The phone beeped, warning that they were about to be disconnected.

“These phone calls are so short.” Suzette wound the phone cord around her finger. “Call me back one more time.”

Kitchie stole a furtive look at the clock. “It’s nine-thirty; we’ve been talking back to back for an hour now. Maybe you should check on Junior and Secret for me.”

“What are you two doing out of bed?” Mr. Reynolds cleared the stairs on his way to make hourly rounds on the second floor.

Secret faced him, still holding on to Junior’s hand. “His stomach hurts.”

“And what does that have to do with you being out of your room?”

“He’s afraid of the dark so I’m taking him.”

Junior hopped from one foot to the other as if he would piss himself any second.

Mr. Reynolds looked at him, then shifted his gaze back to Secret. “Hurry up and get back in the bed.” He watched them walk into the bathroom and close the door.
Misbegotten bastards
.

Secret put her ear to the door. “What are you waiting on?”

Junior went into the cabinet under the sink and removed their clothes. He took his PJs off, dressed himself, then switched places with Secret while she dressed. When she took her PJs off, he could see the sore bruises scattered across her skin.

She eased the window up. “You first; I’m right behind you.”

Junior hoisted himself through and landed on a porch roof. As promised, Secret was right behind him. She was thankful that the window was nowhere near as high as her bedroom window.

“I’ll call you back in the morning…and I promise to reimburse you for the calls.” Kitchie blocked out the collective ruckus from the day room.

“Don’t you worry about that.” Suzette began to unpack the grocery bag. “Think it’s too late to call there?”

“It’s never too late to check on children, Suzette.”

The phone beeped again. Five seconds until disconnection.

“I’ll come visit you tomorrow and tell you personally how the children are.”

“Thank you, Suzette. Tell them I love them and that their father and I will be for them soon.” Kitchie began to sprout tears.

“I will. I sure—” The phone went dead. “Will.” She cleared the line and dialed 4-1-1.

Mr. Reynolds did his walk-through in the girls’ room and was on his way to the boys’ sleeping area when he was drawn to the light sneaking under the bathroom door. He started toward the light.

Junior jumped from the roof to a tree branch and climbed to the ground.

Mr. Reynolds grabbed the doorknob—

“Mr. Reynolds.” A part-time employee approached. “You have a Mrs. Sanders, Suzette Sanders, on line two. She says it’s urgent.”

He released the knob. “I’ll take it down the hall.”

Secret lowered herself to the ground, looked up at the street light, and remembered how her mother felt about their being outside when the lights were on.

“Yes, they’re fine children. Under the circumstances, I’m honored to have Secret and Junior here. They’re well-mannered and polite.” Mr. Reynolds clamped the cordless phone to his ear as he headed for the children.

“Are they adjusting well?” Suzette was taking notes.

“Yes, yes, they are. There is no need to worry yourself. In fact, I spoke with them no more than ten minutes ago. Secret is such the big sister, she was escorting Junior to the restroom. He’s a little bothered by the dark.”

“Yes, I know. So you wouldn’t mind if I spoke with them for a minute?”

“Not at all, since they’re awake.” He opened the boys’ room and took note that Junior’s bunk was empty. “Hold on, Mrs. Sanders. They’re still in the restroom.” He went to the bathroom and opened the door.