Two Tears in a Bucket (14 page)

“
Well, dust that muthafucka for prints, ’cause everythin’ that bitch nigga said is some bullshit, and that gun damn sure ain’t mine.”

Sergeant Young leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Well, whose gun is it then? Kennard’s?”

“
Yeah, that muthafucka’s his! He wanna be a fuckin’ snitch, do he?”

“
So Mr. Kennard was involved?”

“
Fuck yeah, his ass was involved. I ain’t even gon’ sit here and act like I ain’t do shit. Yeah, that nigga was looking for me. Shit, he was fuckin’ beatin’ down my door. I had to defend my household,” James ranted. “We exchanged some ammo, but that bitch nigga Kevin was in the shit, too. That’s his muthafuckin’ gun in the diaper bag. You don’t believe me? Then dust that bitch for prints like I said.”

Sergeant Young slid a blank statement sheet toward James. “Will you put it in writing?”

James frowned at the piece of paper. “Man, I ain’t no fuckin’ writer. You write that shit, and I’ll sign the muthafucka!”

“
No problem, Mr. Harris.” Sergeant Young winked toward the two-way mirror. “No problem at all.”

● ● ●

During the three-month trial proceedings, ballistic testing proved that the bullet from Kevin’s gun did in fact kill Mr. Curtis Johnson. Every night during the court proceedings, Kevin begged God for a heart attack, a stroke, or any other element that could take him out. He wanted to trade places with Mr. Johnson. He couldn’t eat, and the nights when slumber finally caught up with him, his dreams were all of Mr. Johnson drowning in a pool of blood.

The day of sentencing came. Kevin hoped the judge would leave him behind bars forever or award him the death penalty. But Fat Ed got Kevin one of the best attorneys around. First- degree murder was tossed out the window, along with the death penalty and life behind bars.

“
Mr. Kennard,” the judge began, “for count one, second-degree murder, I hereby sentence you to thirty years. For counts two and three, possession of a handgun and reckless endangerment, I sentence you to the mandatory sentence of five years each. According to the criminal file I have before me, Mr. Kennard, you’ve been headed down the road of destruction for some time now. I hope you realize you’re getting off better than your victim. Good luck through your incarceration, Mr. Kennard. This court stands adjourned.”

● ● ●

Simone stumbled through the door exhausted. Three months ago, she’d not only passed the civil service test, but she’d secured a full-time position in the government.

“
Hey,” Thomas greeted from the living room couch. “You look tired as hell. How was work?”

“
It was work,” Simone said as the phone rang.

“
Hello,” he answered. Frowning, he placed the phone back in its cradle.

“
Who was that?” Simone asked.

“
I don’t know. You know somebody in jail?” he asked, his voice pierced with concern.

“
Huh?”

“
That’s the second time today somebody has called here from prison.”

“
Naw,” Simone said as she headed back to her room. “Check with Stan. It may be one of his friends.”

Chapter Twelve

Beginning of January, 1989

Simone caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror of the ladies’ room.
Man, I look a mess
, she thought. Her raccoon eyes screamed sleep deprivation, while the puffy bags told a tale of many tearful nights, thanks to Kevin’s deceit and her predicament. The clock was ticking. However, once the baby had started moving, Simone couldn’t follow through with the abortion.

At least no one can tell yet
, she thought as she turned to check her reflection sideways.
I got a lil’ stomach, but not enough for anybody to think I’m pregnant.

Pulling up the oversized sweater she’d borrowed from Lavon, Simone retied the makeshift shoestring belt around her corduroys. She hadn’t bought any maternity clothes and hadn’t planned on it. The one thing she desperately needed to do was schedule a prenatal visit.

Simone pulled the sweater down as the bathroom door squealed open. A slender white woman dressed in a crisp Army uniform walked over to the dated peach-colored sink next to Simone.

“
Hi.” She smiled, turning on the faucet.

“
Hi,” Simone responded, smiling back as she checked herself in the mirror one last time, making sure the oversized sweater covered the opening in her bogus maternity pants. As she turned to head toward the door, a slight gush of liquid escaped her, soaking the lining of her underwear.

What the hell was that?
she wondered as she stood frozen in the middle of the floor.

The woman looked at Simone cockeyed and asked, “You okay?”

“
Yeah…I’m fine.” Simone forced a smiled, but to herself she screamed,
Ugh! I need to line my underwear with some tissue.
She took a step toward the bathroom stall, and it happened again. Another gush, larger than before, drenched her down to her shoes.

“
Oh my God,” Simone said, looking down at her two-toned pants.

“
Honey, what’s…” The woman noticed Simone’s wet clothing and the small puddle of fluid on the floor.

“
I’m pregnant,” Simone mumbled, “and I think my water broke.”

● ● ●

The next day, tears dropped down Simone’s face as she sat in a wheelchair staring helplessly into the incubator, watching her daughter cling to life. Barely two pounds, her tiny body rested, engulfed in the midst of a preemie-sized diaper.

“
You think she’ll live?” she asked the neonatal pediatrician.

“
Well, twenty-seven weeks is really early. We’ll just have to wait and see. All I can say is keep praying.” The doctor placed his hand on Simone’s shoulder. “Have you thought about a name?”

“
Yeah,” Simone said somberly. “Jordan.”

“
Jordan…hmm,” the doctor said, as if he were allowing the name to marinate. “That’s nice. It sounds rich. Any special reason?”

“
Yeah,” Simone mumbled, staring at her daughter like a zombie. “When my water broke, the sudden gush kinda reminded me of a river. And the Jordan River is biblical. It’s where Jesus was baptized. So…” she shrugged her shoulders and stared up at the doctor to see if he thought her logic made sense. “I don’t know. I guess I’m hoping that since so many others got saved at the Jordan River, maybe God will save my baby, too.”

“
I’m sure he will, Ms. Woodard.” The doctor squeezed Simone’s shoulder. “I’m sure he will.”

● ● ●

As hard as she tried, Simone couldn’t keep her eyes off of the empty chair in the corner of her hospital room.
I guess that’s supposed to be for Kevin
. The mere thought of his absence sent the tears that she’d been fighting to maintain back down her face. She missed him. His voice, his touch, his kiss, and most importantly, his love—however fake it may have been. Her heart wanted to believe the love they had shared was authentic, but her mind muzzled her heart. They’d been apart for months, and Kevin hadn’t made a single attempt to call her.

Laughter and baby wails filled the maternity ward. Looking down at the phone, Simone wondered if she should even call him to share the news, but a male voice disrupted her thoughts.

“
Hey.”

“
Uh-oh,” Simone mumbled, wiping away her tears with the back of her hands.

“
Uh-oh, nothing,” Thomas said, approaching the side of Simone’s bed and shaking his head. “My nineteen-year-old daughter in the got damn hospital having a baby. Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant, Simone?”

“
I don’t know. I knew you’d be disappointed.”

“
Simone, you’re supposed to be able to tell me anything. I thought I knew you better than that. How in the world you end up pregnant anyway? I thought you were smarter than that. Why didn’t you use protection?”

Stan walked in. “Where’s the little monkey at?” he asked.

Thankful for the distraction, Simone said, “I’ll take you to the nursery.”

“
Naw, keep your butt in bed,” Thomas ordered. “I’ll get a nurse to show us where she is.”

Thomas and Stan were gone barely ten minutes before they strolled back into Simone’s room. Worry lines were etched across Thomas’s forehead.

“
Granddaddy over here couldn’t even look at her. Simone, tell him she gon’ be okay,” Stan said.

“
They don’t know yet. They won’t know for a couple of days.”

“
I ain’t never in my life seen a baby that small,” Thomas said, barely above a whisper. “I mean, damn. That little pamper is twice her size.”

“
How’d you find out I was here?”

“
You ain’t come home last night, so I called you at work to make sure you were okay and your supervisor told me.”

“
Surprise,” Simone whispered.

“
Surprise, my ass,” Thomas said, with more bark than bite. “So where the hell is the father?” He looked around the room as if Kevin were hiding. “Is it that red guy I met at your apartment? What’s his name?”

“
Kevin…Kevin Kennard.”

“
KEVIN KENNARD!” Stan was stunned. “Kevin Kennard is your baby’s father?”

“
Why you say it like that?” Thomas asked, looking at Stan.

“
Simone knows why I’m saying it like that!”

“
What, Big Bob told you about the incident?” Simone asked.

“
Naw. What incident?” Stan asked.

“
I know one damn thing,” Thomas said. “His ass got my daughter pregnant, so he better be ’round here some damn where.”

“
He don’t know I had her, Daddy. I was getting ready to call him when y’all walked in.”

Stan sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. “How you gon’ call him?”

“
Duh, stupid! How you think? I’ma pick up the phone and dial his number. How else would I call?”

“
Oh, and what, the prison guards gon’ take him the phone? He got it like that?”

“
Prison guards!” Thomas and Simone both replied in shock.

“
Stan, what you talking about?” Simone asked.

“
You don’t know?”

“
Know what?” Simone’s anger at Kevin turned to worry.

“
Girl, Kevin locked up. He’s been locked up a few months now.”

“
What?”

“
A friend of mine introduced me to his god
-brother, Ed. You know him?”

“
Yeah, I met him once or twice when he brought Kevin home.”

“
Well, me and him tryna open up a recording studio. We had to hold off for a second ’cause Ed was going back and forth to the trial. He paid all the attorney fees and everything.”

“
Ain’t this some prime-time bullshit. So he’s the one who been calling the house from jail,” Thomas mumbled, shaking his head.

“
What the hell he locked up for?” His look of disappointment was back.

“
Murder. He got like forty years, too. So you,” Stan said to Simone, “won’t be getting no child support.”

● ● ●

“
Simone!” Thomas rushed down the hallway two weeks later. “Here,” he said, nearly throwing her the cordless phone. “It’s the hospital!”

“
Hello.”

“
Hi, Ms. Woodard, this is Dr. Mason of the neonatal intensive care unit. Umm…I’m going to need you to come to the hospital right away. Unfortunately,” he sighed, “we need to operate on your daughter’s heart.”

“
Oh my God,” Simone gasped, slapping her hand over her mouth. “What’s wrong with her heart?”

“
Oh, Lord.” Thomas stood listening outside Simone’s bedroom door. For the last two weeks, the house had frozen every time the phone rang, for fear of the worse from the hospital. Jordan was nowhere near out of the woods.

“
Well, to sum it up in layman’s terms, blood is flowing into your daughter’s lungs from an opened vessel that hasn’t closed, which isn’t uncommon with premature babies. We’ve been administering medicine to help the vessel mature, but it isn’t working the way we’d like. And unfortunately, if we allow the blood to continue to flow into her lungs… Well, let’s just say we don’t want that to happen. So, we need your consent to perform the surgery. Ms. Woodard? Are you there?”

“
I’m sorry,” Thomas said to the doctor, taking the phone from Simone as she sat on the bed and cried helplessly. There was nothing she could do for her tiny baby. She figured God was trying to punish her for wanting to abort his gift. “We’ll be there shortly.”

Simone and Thomas rushed into NICU. The hospital cardiologist was standing over Jordan’s incubator, documenting her file.

“
Ms. Woodard, after examining your daughter, it appears the medicine is working, just not as fast as we’d like. For now, I’ve simply instructed the staff to increase the medication. Its unhurried velocity is a lot safer than the surgery. So, let’s all pray the medicine does the trick.”

Over the weeks, the frantic phone calls subsided and Jordan finally began to progress the way the doctors wanted. Three months from the date of her premature birth, she finally weighed enough to come home.

Is this going to be too big?
Simone held up the designer jumper she’d purchased for Jordan to wear home from the hospital.
I better take a sleeper just in case,
she thought as the phone rang.