Shattered Chances: A Breaking Black Companion Novel (6 page)

Fucking Devils!

Cheyenne was very fond of her father and his last words that he spoke to me, I knew then, would haunt me for the rest of my life.

“Take care of my Cheyenne.”

I damn well intended to.

We pulled up outside Cheyenne’s house and my stomach felt as hard as a rock. One knock. Two knocks. Ten knocks.  She wasn’t answering. What would you have done? I turned the knob and the door opened with a squeak. The house was as quiet as the grave.

“Who picked her up from school?” I ask, the concern apparent in my voice.

“No one. She bolted the second she heard.”

“Where’s her mother?”

“We’re looking for her.”

“You’re kidding… From what I hear, she’s majorly unhinged.”

Uncle Shawn gave me a knowing glare. He knows more than he is letting on.

“Cheyenne!” Uncle Shawn called through the house.

She still did not respond.

“Chey!” I call up the stairs.

Still no response. I climbed the stairs as my worry intensified with each passing second.

Where the hell is her mother?!

12.

Cheyenne

I rocked myself back and forth on my bedroom floor as the music from my headphones flooded my ears. My despair washed over me, a tide of emotion, a swarm of memories crashing down upon me. I was at the depth of my sorrow. Never did I think that I would be pulled out of class with the news that my father was dead. Dead. I was still wrapping my head around the word. It felt empty. The news had not set in yet. Walking into the office, I thought it was my mother. That would be the reasonable assumption, especially with everything she’d been through lately. But when the Principal told me that it was my father who was gone, it stole my breath away.

The room still spun around me. Lord only knows where my mother got off to. What the fuck was I going to do? She was not stable, and without her medication, she was a danger to herself and others. I continued to listen to my father’s CD. He had a major obsession with Billy Joel. He would always say, “Old Billy gets me.” I remember how my father would sing “Downeaster Alexa” and “Uptown Girl” to me in the car. When I had trouble sleeping, he’d sing me Billy Joel’s “Lullabye.”

Listening to the song now caused the flood gates to open.

Goodnight my angel,

Now its time to close your eyes,

Save these questions for another day.

I think I know what you’ve been asking me.

I think you know

What I’ve been trying to say.

I promise I will never leave you,

And you should always know,

Wherever you may go,

No matter where you are,

I will never be far away.

But there would be no other day to pose my questions. Silent sobs heaved from my chest as reality set in. It was so hard to catch my breath. My hair fell over my face so I quickly flipped my hair back. That is when I realized there was someone standing before me. I wiped the tears from my eyes with haste, but they continued to swell in my eyes, temporarily blinding me.

I knew it was him. My Randy. I knew him all of a day, but my heart had claimed him as my own. The smell of his cologne wafted through the air. He was watching me with an intense gaze. I wondered what he must think of me. But before I could put much thought into it, he spoke.

His rough timbred tone caught me by surprise. He said one word with so much meaning in his voice.

“Cheyenne.”

Brushing the hair from my eyes, he stood before me with glassy eyes and a gathering of daisies in his hand.

This boy.

Placing the flowers gently on my bed, he scooted down on the floor behind me. He pulled me into his arms as a breath coursed through my lungs. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath. I dropped my head back to rest on his chest. His heart hammered loudly in my ear, and I focused on that noise. With my mind shrouded in darkness, the sound was a guiding light.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Defy the dim and the dark that had settled in my heart. Drown out disparity. Squash the sorrow. Press it down. Bury it. But the second I stopped trying, the pain in my heart rose ferociously. I gripped Randy’s arms as a terrible howl boiled up my throat.

Placing his arm across my chest and his lips on my neck, he whispered to me, “I’m here, Chey. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

I believed him.

I cannot tell you how long we sat like that. I closed my eyes and let Randy support me. It was in that moment that I could tell just how strong a man he was. Most guys would flee. They did not want to be confronted with emotions, with a very serious situation involving their girlfriend of just one day. Randy was different. He had a depth that was not apparent. He had a heart that he hid under seven layers of iron plated armor. He had my best interest at heart.

“Did you paint all these?” Randy asked, referring to the paintings that lined my walls.

“Yes.”

“You’re talented.”

“My dad thought so, too. It’s a good outlet for me.”

I heard another set of footsteps approach my bedroom door.

“Randy, where is her mother?”

“Not here. You guys need to find her, she’s not well.”

I sniffed, “When I got here, the house was empty.”

“I have to make a call,” Shawn said as he turned on his heel to exit the room.

Forcefully, Randy jumped up from behind me and damn near jumped over me to catch up to his uncle.

“No!”

“Randy I have to!”

“Don’t do it!”

“I have to call protective services! Her mother is not well, and the girl was basically abandoned.”

“Please!!!” Randy shouted. His face was red and his eyes had a dangerous edge. “They will take her. Please.”

Randy tried to whisper, “She’s had everything taken from her. Let me help her! Grandma will take her in!”

Shawn rubbed his fingers through his hair, clearly caught between a rock and a hard place.

“If you call anyone, call her! For all you know, the mother is equally distraught. How would you react?! They will put her in one of those homes!”

Shawn gave Randy a meaningful glance. He knew exactly how he’d react. He’d been through it all before. It was apparent on his face.

“I’ll call them.”

A joy so great exploded in Randy’s gaze as he hugged his uncle and patted him hard on his back.

“Thank you.”

When Shawn departed the room, Randy rushed to me with an urgency I had never seen.

“Pack a bag. I’m taking you home.”

13.

Randy

My grandfather eyed me precariously as my grandmother helped Cheyenne up to the spare bedroom. I have ESPN. I know what’s coming. A lecture. I sense it.

“Randall, come. I’d like to speak with you alone.”

I told you. ESPN. That’s what it’s called right?

“I am fine with helping this young lady out. I’d rather help someone we know than to take in a troubled youth from the county. I have rules, though.”

“Of course you do.”

“That guest bedroom is off limits to you.”

“I understand.”

“I will have no funny business in my house. Are we clear? You will be a perfect gentleman. Keep your hands to yourself. I know you’re just starting to court her.”

“Pop they don’t call it that anymore…”

“Randy! Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal. I will be an altar boy.”

“All the altar boys I’ve known have been bad asses.”

I laugh. I shouldn’t have.

“Randy…”

“Sorry. Perfectly clear.”

“Good. Now help your grandmother upstairs with her bags.”

***

I did as I was told, lugging the two suitcases full of my girlfriend’s possessions. Imagine that. Everything you own, crammed into the confines of two suitcases. The idea bothered me. Home is where the heart is, where your family is. The ties that bind – you are tethered to your home. No matter how far you might wander… home is truly where you leave your heart. Where would Cheyenne call home now? I knew this wasn’t a permanent situation. There was so much that remained up in the air. Would her mother return? Was her mother even alive? I could not let these things burden or stress me. I had to remain as light as possible so that Cheyenne had an escape from the fucked up reality that her life had become. I’d shoulder the weight, hide it with jokes. I could not let her see how worried for her I was.

I finally got to take her out, on my terms. Although Cheyenne had said she had a better idea earlier, I didn’t want her to have to plan it with so much on her mind. My grandparent’s church was having a CYO dance. It was the perfect opportunity to take Cheyenne out and get her mind off of the situation.

***

I ditched my usual jeans and t-shirt for a pair of khakis and a dress shirt, feeling like I was going to mass. I sat down and waited for her to come downstairs. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. Coming downstairs in a pretty white lace dress and a pair of cowboy boots, her hair styled in soft curls that fell over her shoulders, Cheyenne took my breath away. She didn’t have on a stitch of makeup. She didn’t need it. Her eyes were still a little puffy from crying, I could tell that she didn’t really feel like going out, but it would do her a world of good. No good could come from lying in a dark room.

I grabbed her hand and gave her a kiss on the cheek. I kept it chaste. The old man was in the kitchen.

“You look gorgeous,” I whisper into her ear. I could feel her cheeks blush; they were warm and soft to the touch.

“Tim!” I yelled up the steps. “TIM!!!!! We’re ready!”

My grandmother had volunteered Tim to drive us to the CYO dance. Averi was going too, and Tim was less than thrilled. With an agitated look on his face, he trudged down the stairs with his keys in his hand. Rolling his eyes, he said, “Let’s get this over with.”

Averi raced behind him, dressed in a pale pink dress and a pair of ballet flats. She looked very excited.

“Oh, Cheyenne. You look pretty!” Averi said with a smile.

Cheyenne smiled weakly, “Thank you. So do you.”

“Where are you going?!” I ask my sister.

“I’m going to the dance!” she said.

“With who?!”

“MYOB.”

“Huh?”

“Mind your own business.”

“You are my business. You’re my sister.”

“And you’re my bunion. Tim, let’s go.”

Rolling my eyes, I followed them out to the car with Cheyenne trailing close behind me.

***

Cheyenne led the way through the crowd. She dropped her purse on the table and turned to me with a charged look.

“Dance with me.”

What the lady wants, the lady gets.

I grabbed her hand gently and backed up onto the dance floor as some awful pop slow dance started to play. It was a boy band. NSYNC, Backstreet Boys… they’re all the same to me. Cry babies. Whatever, I enjoyed the moment, regardless. She swayed gently to the music, placing my hand on her hip. She was taller than most girls I’ve dated. I didn’t have to crane my neck to look down. We were eye to eye, on the same footing. Her hand held my neck firmly, as if she was afraid to let go. I didn’t want her to. It was indescribable. I’m not the type to get attached to people. I don’t make friends easily. I don’t let people in. But in this moment, there is no one I wanted to let into my heart more than her. She wasn’t smiling, but she let her body follow the rhythm of the music. She lost herself to the beat. She closed her eyes, her neck rolling back, holding on to me tight. She was trying to loosen up. I didn’t say a word. I’ll let her do her thing. I got her. She was a lot like me. We were both closed off people, but somehow, something sparked between us that allowed us to connect on a very deep level damn near instantly.

I watched her as she moved to the tempo, her eyes closed, living in the moment. Bringing my hand to her cheek, I brought her back to me. Lifting her eye lids, her blue eyes held me captive. She gave me the faintest of smiles which followed the softest of kisses. As the song ended, I gripped her hand tightly as I pulled her off the dance floor. Seeking out the exit, I wanted to be alone with her.

The air was chillier than normal so I gave her my jacket and we found our seats on a wooden bench in the church garden. It was a quiet spot, except for the bar across the street. Jukebox tunes bled out into the neighborhood at a moderate level.

I hadn’t said anything yet, but she was staring at me. I turned to look at her with a smile.

“Thank you,” she said, the gratitude in her voice overwhelmed me.

“For what?”