Tangled Roots (16 page)

“If I knew I’d get that kind of welcome I’d go away more often,” Carl said early the next morning as we lay in my bed wrapped around each other. I was pleasantly sore and sleepy, with my head resting against Carl’s chest and my thigh between his legs, nestled against his soon-to-be-erect-again penis. He was massaging my backside. I was warm and happy and, much like Mahalia after a mouse dinner, felt like purring. I looked at Carl with an expression that I hoped would let him know that I was ready for another go ’round. He looked at me with a sleepy smile that quickly turned to horror.

“What happened to your head?” he asked, rubbing the tender spot on my forehead that had now become a large knot. I felt my forehead and was alarmed to find that the spot had swelled up even more overnight. I leapt out of bed and rushed over to the mirror and almost screamed. The knot had puffed and swelled so that it now extended outward almost an inch, making me look like a unicorn.

“Damn, Kendra, I didn’t do that last night, did I?” Carl had gotten up and was standing by me in the mirror. I didn’t want to tell him about being attacked, so if he wanted to believe that the knot was caused by him knocking my forehead into the headboard during our bootyfest marathon last night, then so be it. The ridiculousness of the situation — complete with us both standing butt-naked and goggle-eyed in the mirror — suddenly hit me, and I started laughing hysterically.

“Think of it this way,” Carl said, grinning like a fool, “you can always use it to hang stuff on.” I punched him in the stomach and he chased me back into bed.

Later that morning, I sat in the kitchen with a compress full of ice pressed against my forehead while Carl cooked us breakfast. As I watched him cook bacon I realized I could get used to having him around all the time. A hot guy who knows how to cook bacon without burning it is definitely an asset in my book. I idly wondered if Morris Rollins knew how to cook.

So far, Carl and I have managed to keep our relationship casual, since we live in different cities, and basically only see each other on weekends. I was worried that things would fizzle out if we were together more often. I didn’t want to push for more face time too fast since Carl is newly divorced from a white woman who left him because her disapproving daddy gave her an incentive by dangling a lot of money in her face. Even though he’s a pretty stoic guy and never mentions his ex, I know Carl still has to be smarting over the betrayal.

“So, what’s going on with Timmy? Did he turn himself in yet?” I almost dropped my bag of ice. It was wishful thinking to imagine that the subject of Timmy wouldn’t rear its ugly head.

“No, and we’re all getting really worried. Especially now.”

“Why?” he asked, placing a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of me. I filled him in on Olivia’s condition.

“You know this doesn’t look good for him, don’t you? If he didn’t do it he really needs to turn himself in. My man Howard James is a hell of a lawyer. Timmy couldn’t ask for better representation. He’s even going to do it pro bono.”

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. I feel really bad about this whole situation. Can we change the subject, please?”

“Kendra, you haven’t gotten mixed up in Timmy’s mess, have you?” he asked between bites of scrambled egg. I could tell by his intense stare that it wasn’t a casual question.

Damn! I really didn’t want to lie to him. I got up and emptied the melting ice from my compress into the sink without answering him.

“Kendra, please tell me you’re not involved in this. You don’t know where he is, do you?” His cell phone rang before I could form my lips around a believable lie. He answered it but didn’t take his eyes off of me. Whatever the caller told him, I could tell it wasn’t good news. I watched as Carl ran a shaky hand over his face.

“Damn. Okay, I’m on my way back now,” he said in a flat voice. He slowly put the phone down.

“What’s wrong?”

“John died a half an hour ago. I need to get back to Cleveland.”

“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry,” I said, coming over to him and putting my arms around him. He hugged me back hard. I felt bad that in my excitement to see him I’d forgotten to ask how his brother-in-law was doing. Sadly, there was no need to ask anymore.

A
fter
Carl left, I got ready for work. The swelling on my forehead had gone down some but the knot was still there in all its glory. I put a black headband on, leftover from my teenaged fascination with the movie
Flashdance
, and pulled it down low over my forehead. Okay, I looked like a fool but there was nothing else I could do to hide it except possibly use a Band-Aid, and that would look even more foolish. I headed off to work happy that Fridays are half days at the center. That left me with the whole afternoon to try and figure out a way to see Nicole Rollins without her husband being around. I thought hard, trying to figure out if anyone had ever mentioned Nicole having a job — maybe I could drop in on her at work — but nothing came to mind. I honestly couldn’t envision Nicole having a job other than spending her husband’s money, which meant I was going to have to do something that I really didn’t want to do: pay a visit to the Rollins home. I’d worry about that later.

When I arrived at work, Rhonda handed me a message after commenting on my headband and telling me she had a torn sweatshirt and leg warmers I could borrow to complete my look. The message was from Leah Johnson, the volunteer coordinator at Kingford College, informing me that Shanda would no longer be volunteering at the center and would fulfill the remainder of her hours at another agency. I had a bad feeling about this. While I wasn’t surprised that Shanda didn’t want to be around me — and, to be honest, the feeling was mutual — I knew how much she loved working at the center and was shocked that she hadn’t called herself to tell Rhonda or Noreen she was quitting. I tried to get ahold of Leah Johnson for more info but she was in a meeting. An hour later she returned my call and told me that Shanda’s mother, not Shanda, had called her the day before to get her daughter’s volunteer assignment changed to Holy Cross Ministries. Even though I was pissed at Shanda, I was also worried. I decided to head over to her house to see if I could catch her before she left for her classes. I told Rhonda I had an emergency and left.

Upon turning onto Shanda’s street, I saw an ambulance parked in her driveway and someone being loaded into the back. A near hysterical Bonita Kidd jumped in as well. I watched it pull out of the driveway and race off in the opposite direction. I felt my stomach start to churn. I pulled up in front of the house just as Rondell Kidd came flying out the front door wearing a tight, yellow, terry cloth sweat suit and black dress shoes. I really wanted to believe that he’d thrown that outfit on in a rush but I knew better. I watched him jump into his car and back down the driveway. I ran up to the car.

“What happened?” I yelled through the open driver’s-side window. I could see tears running down Rondell’s cheeks.

“Shanda slit her wrist. I can’t talk now. I gotta get to the hospital.” I quickly jumped away from the car as Rondell pulled out of the driveway and tore off down the street. He didn’t even stop at the stop sign and almost hit another car.

I got in my car and headed to the hospital. Shanda had tried to kill herself. Why? She had complained about her parents running her life, but slitting her wrists seemed like an extreme reaction to overbearing parents. More than likely this had something to do with Vaughn Castle. Did he threaten her? Did he beat her up again? How many women were going to suffer because of Vaughn? I arrived at the hospital and was heading into the emergency room when I heard someone calling my name. It was Morris Rollins.

“My brother Rondell called and said they were bringing my niece to the hospital. I couldn’t get much sense out of him. You haven’t seen him, have you?” Rollins looked past me into the emergency room.

“No. I just got here. He told me the same thing when I stopped by their house this morning.” I wasn’t about to tell Morris Rollins that his niece had tried to kill herself. That was his brother’s job.

Rollins looked taken aback. “I didn’t realize you knew my niece.”

“Shanda volunteers at the literacy center where I work. I got worried when she didn’t show up for work today, so I stopped by her house.”

Rondell and Bonita emerged from behind a set of swinging doors and spotted Rollins. Bonita ran across the room into his arms and collapsed. Rollins and Rondell had to practically carry her over to a lumpy-looking plaid couch in the waiting area, where she buried her face against her brother-in-law’s shoulder and sobbed. The way she was carrying on I was sure Shanda must be dead. I heard Rollins ask his brother what was going on.

“We found her in the bathtub this morning,” said a distraught Rondell. “Her wrist was cut but the paramedics said that the cut was too shallow and she missed a major artery. She musta been in the tub all night, bleedin’ slowly. She lost a lot of blood but she’ll be okay. They’re giving her a transfusion.”

“But why? Why, Lord, why?” screamed Bonita. “Why would she hurt herself? What reason could she have?” Then Bonita looked across the room and found a name for her pain, and it was spelled K-E-N-D-R-A. Her face contorted in rage and she pointed an accusing finger in my direction.

“You! You had something to do with this. I know you did. What did you do to my baby, you heathen? She was fine ’til she started working at that center with you and those losers.” She pushed away from Rollins in an effort to get at me, no doubt intending to tear me limb from limb. I could have probably taken her, but brawling with someone’s distraught mother wasn’t going to solve anything or win me any popularity contests. Rollins managed to restrain her. Both he and Rondell Kidd were looking at me curiously, like they couldn’t quite figure out what planet I was from. I should have left but I was rooted to the spot by Bonita’s melodrama. I felt like a deer blinded by headlights.

Rollins gently shifted Bonita into her husband’s arms and came over to me. I expected him to demand an explanation and in that instant I decided to tell him about Shanda’s involvement with Vaughn. I was quite sick of carrying the whole load around on my back and would have been more than happy to let Shanda’s family deal with her. But, to my surprise, he didn’t ask.

“Kendra, my sister-in-law is upset. It might be best if you left so we can get her calmed down.” His voice was kind enough. But his eyes were hard and his hands were clenched into fists. Surely he didn’t think I had something to do with what Shanda had tried to do? I could feel tears of self-pity start to well up in my eyes.

“I’m sorry, Reverend Rollins. Please tell the Kidds that Shanda is in my prayers,” I said, my voice cracking a little, and left quickly before I made a fool of myself by blubbering like a baby.

He caught up with me in the parking lot. I felt a hand on my shoulder as I opened my car door. I turned and was pulled into a warm Lagerfield-scented embrace. The stress of the last couple of weeks finally caught up with me and I buried my face in his black cashmere sweater and bawled.

“No one is blaming you, Kendra,” he said, gently stroking my hair. It dawned on me that this was the second tragedy to happen to a member of Rollins’s family in as many weeks and here I was crying on
his
shoulder. I was mortified and quickly pulled out of his arms.

“I know. I feel stupid. Thanks for the hug but I really need to get back to work.” I got into my car and started to close the door, but Rollins grabbed the handle and leaned down to whisper in my ear.

“Anytime you want to talk or just need a hug, let me know.” He closed my door and I watched as he headed back into the hospital.

When I arrived back at work, Noreen was standing in the hallway outside the classroom. Not realizing she was waiting for me, I started to walk right past her but she blocked my way.

“Kendra, I was looking for you earlier and you weren’t here. Please explain where you’ve been.”

I told her about Shanda and, figuring that I’d explained myself to her satisfaction, attempted once more to enter the classroom. But Noreen wasn’t finished flexing her muscles.

“May I ask why you think you have the right to just come and go as you please without even telling anyone where you’re going?”

“What are you talking about? I told Rhonda where I was going. Didn’t she tell you?”

“Yes, she did. But, Rhonda’s not the one in charge around here, is she?”

“No, she isn’t, but you weren’t around and I had an emergency.” I was trying hard to be calm but I could feel the blood rushing to my face.

“You mean Shanda had an emergency. What did it have to do with you? Are you a relative of hers?

“No. But I didn’t realize I had to be a relative to show concern for one of our volunteers who’s going through a crisis.”

“You seem to be under the delusion that you’re more than just a teacher, Kendra. But that’s all you are, a teacher, nothing more. I’m the one in charge and your only job is to help these students prepare for their GED examination, and you haven’t even been doing that very well, in my opinion. You’re disorganized, unprofessional, uncooperative, and dishonest. I’ve been documenting every single instance of your insubordination and I expect you in my office after class this morning so we can talk about your future with this program.”

I could feel myself getting hot and my face felt like it would burst. Noreen had picked the wrong time to mess with me and it was high time I let her know that her tiny reign of terror was over, at least as far as I was concerned.

“Excuse me, but who in the hell do you think you’re talking to? You nosy, hypercritical control freak!
You
seem to be under the delusion that you’re running things around here.
You
don’t have an office. That’s
Dorothy’s
office and you’re nothing but a glorified babysitter until she gets back. Now, I know you taught kindergarten for thirty years, so I can understand if interaction with adults might be a bit difficult for you. I’ve worked in this program for almost five years and I’ve never had any complaints about my professionalism. You, on the other hand, have some serious issues, lady. Your micromanagement is driving everyone around here crazy. We don’t need you breathing down our necks every minute of every day with your nitpicking comments. You’re so busy spying on us it’s a wonder you get any of your own work done. This program was running just fine before you got here and it will continue to do so when Dorothy gets back, which won’t be soon enough for me.”

“I’m afraid that’s wishful thinking, because I got a phone call from Dorothy last night and her mother isn’t healing as fast as they’d hoped. She doesn’t know when, or even if she’ll be back. I had a long talk with her about you and she told me that I was in charge in her absence and could handle things any way I see fit.” Noreen was staring at me with her arms crossed and an expression so smug and condescending that my hand actually started to itch from wanting to slap her so badly.

“I cannot believe that you would burden Dorothy with this bullshit of yours when her mother is ill and she has much more important things on her mind. You’re pathetic,” I said in disgust.

“I may be a lot of things, Kendra, but I’m still your boss until further notice and since you want to be so difficult and don’t want to live up to my high standards for teaching in this program, I have no choice but to pursue formal disciplinary action against you.”

“Well, you know what, Noreen?” I said, having heard quite enough. “Since you know so much about my job and how I should be doing it, you can do it for me. I’ll be back either when Dorothy or when someone with good sense is in charge.” I turned and walked away with Noreen’s loud voice echoing in the empty hall behind me.

“Where do you think you’re going? Kendra! Kendra, I asked you a question!”

“I’m going home and
you
can go straight to hell!” I yelled over my shoulder.

“Don’t bother coming back, Kendra! You’re finished! Do you hear me? I’ll make sure you never work as a teacher again!” Noreen’s voice was a high-pitched shriek.

In an impulsive bit of immaturity, which I felt was fully warranted, I spun around to face her. I wondered if she could see the steam pouring out of my ears. “Since you’re so fond of documenting things, document this, and then you can kiss it!” I yelled and quickly mooned her before walking out the door. I was feeling quite proud of myself, but I could hear Mama’s voice in my head saying, “Fool, what have you done?” I ignored it.

I drove around for a while and finally, predictably, ended up at Frisch’s, nursing a double portion of hot fudge cake. My feeling of triumph had deflated a bit when I’d gotten to the center’s parking lot and looked up at the windows of the classroom to see all the students hanging out the windows. Some had been applauding and cheering, while others just looked sad. Rhonda looked like she’d just swallowed a bug. I didn’t blame her. Now she’d have to deal with Noreen alone. Poor baby. I had a bit of money in the bank so I’d be okay for a little while. I didn’t think beyond a little while, opting instead to savor the thick, hot-fudge-covered chocolate cake with cold vanilla ice cream sandwiched in between. With what had just happened at work and Shanda’s suicide attempt occupying my mind, I didn’t notice the person who sat down at the counter next to me until I heard a familiar voice doing what it did best — complaining.

“What’s a sister gotta do to get some service up in here?” Joy Owens asked aloud to no one in particular. A few seconds later a waitress handed her a menu and set a glass of water and some silverware in front of her.

I glanced over and watched her examine her silverware for cleanliness and couldn’t believe that a chick known all over town for her bad attitude and poor customer service skills was looking for reasons not to leave a tip. Unbelievable. So far she either hadn’t noticed me sitting at the counter or she just wasn’t speaking. My bet was on the latter. I couldn’t help but laugh, thinking about the painting on Rollins’s ceiling. Joy looked over and glared at me.

“What are you doin’ here? You get fired?” she asked, not realizing how right she was. I didn’t feel like talking about work, especially not with Joy, of all people.