After All (28 page)

The camera zoomed on a close up of
Michelle. “Sources tell Channel Twelve that District Attorney
Hanson Connely has been conducting a probe of the East Baton Rouge
Parish Housing Authority.” Michelle stepped close to LaWanda so she
could be back on camera with her.”And as you've heard, the Tenants
Action League is determined to make a better life for themselves
and their children. This is Michelle Toussaint reporting for
Channel Twelve News.”

“
That's a wrap. Let's get
out of here while it's still light,” Bob whispered to Michelle as
he passed her.

“
LaWanda, please be careful.
Maybe you could stay with friends for a few days. Some of these
guys have got bad records. Especially Lonnie Mason.”

“
Don't worry. We got police
patrolling more frequently, and a local security firm donated a
patrol for the next two weeks.” LaWanda smiled, her face full of
hope.”For the first time, we feel like things are gonna get better
'round here.”

“
You've got guts, LaWanda. I
know you can do it. Michelle hugged her.

“
Humph, not so much guts as
hard-headed.” LaWanda laughed loudly.

“
Let's pray you don't have
any more problems.” Michelle glanced around her with a frown. She
knew with terrifying certainty that the gang would not give up so
easily.

***

Back at the station, Michelle worked
hard at being in a gay mood as Gracie, Kate, and Earl insisted on
toasting her. They drank sparkling cider in a bottle that made it
look like champagne. Before long, they were joined by a crowd of
staffers more than willing to party. Yet amid the lively chatter
and jokes, Michelle's smile hid her true feelings. The story that
everyone assumed she considered a triumph left a metallic taste in
her mouth. Anthony's stinging accusations still echoed in her ears.
Nagging doubts made her feel morose instead of triumphant. Doubts
that left her wondering if she truly had a reason to rejoice. Had
her personal feelings skewed her view of the facts so much that the
story fell short of being balanced or credible?

“
Mr. Lockport,” Kate
spluttered. Wide eyed, she seemed unable to say more.

“
Carry on. Oh, thank
you.”Lockport accepted a glass with dignified good
humor.”Congratulations on the series, Toussaint. Caused quite a
stir in some circles.”

“
No kidding? Details, give
us details.” Gracie waved her hands to quiet the others.

“
I hear James Bridges has
complained to his friends with the mayor's office, who complained
to members of the Red Stick Business Association, who complained to
Gerald Mansur, II.” Lockport sipped at the cider and dabbed his
lips with a paper napkin. He paused for dramatic effect seeming not
to notice the expectant hush his words had caused. “The old man
told them to go suck an egg, though not in those exact
words.”

Shouts of glee and applause broke out.
The party resumed. Michelle felt nothing, no apprehension about the
waves her story had caused nor relief at the expression of support
from the powerful Mansur patriarch. At what should have been a high
point in her career, all she could think of was the empty apartment
she faced after the party. The story that would lead to greater
success in her professional life was devastating for an important
part of her personal life. Michelle looked around at the merry
faces. What was that old saying? Be careful going after what you
want; you just might get it.

“
Try to restrain yourself,
honey. With all this jumping for joy you'll hurt something.” Gracie
perched next to her on the end of her desk.

“
Guess I'm just exhausted
now that it's over,” Michelle sighed.

“
You and Anthony must have
one good time planned for later, huh?”

“
Not really.” Michelle
traced an invisible line on the tile floor with the toe of her
boot.

“
Just a quiet celebration.
That's even better.” Gracie hunched her with an elbow.

“
Very quiet. He won't even
be there. But who needs him, right? If he can't understand my work
or want to defend that slimy uncle of his, to hell with
him.”

“
Right.” Gracie nodded and
pounded the desk with a fist.”It's not like you will miss the
guy.”

“
Who needs him questioning
my professional judgment, my motives? The man is inflexible and
basically dishonest. He knows what Ike is and expects me to play
that game. I'll be damned if that's so.” Michelle threw the empty
plastic cup into the trash can.

“
Besides, you told him that
there was evidence Ike wasn't on the up and up. He shouldn't blame
you. It's not like he was blind-sided, taken totally off guard
about the seriousness of the allegations. Right?” Gracie clapped a
hand on her shoulder.

“
I told him about the
series.” Michelle blurted out in defense noticing the penetrating
look Gracie gave her.

“
Exactly what did you
say?”

“
Damn it, Gracie. I couldn't
risk telling him too much.”

“
But I thought you were
going to sit down with him right before the first segment. Did you
at least give him a sort of broad outline of what you'd be saying
about Ike? You already had the evidence. Anything he told Ike at
that point would not have made a difference.”

“
I told him I would be doing
a few more stories on the housing thing. Or something to that
effect.”

“
I see.” Gracie continued to
stare at her.

“
What? I hope you're not
going to tell me this is my fault. No way.” Michelle's hair bounced
as she shook her head vigorously.

“
A bit more detail would
have been better,” Gracie said in a cautious tone.

“
Hey, you were the one who
said someone you loved would understand your attempts to do the
right thing. Anthony isn't even looking at the content of my story,
not thinking about how the tenants are suffering.”

“
You could be right. But you
were the one who said how much Ike meant to him. How Ike filled a
void for a young boy hurt at being abandoned by his father. Pretty
heavy stuff.”

“
I gave him warnings,
Gracie. This isn't the first time Anthony has heard of Ike's
antics. I won't become part of the fantasy that Ike is a lovable
roughneck with a heart of gold.”

“
So what now?” Gracie put an
arm around Michelle's shoulders.

“
Life goes on, that's what.
In fact, let's go out and have ourselves a blast. What do you say?
Hey, Earl, you want to?” Michelle yelled to him over the
noise.

“
I'm game.”Earl lifted his
cup to her.

“
Me too.” Kate called out
along with several others.

“
Then let's kick it.”
Michelle grabbed her coat and headed for the door.

Three hours later the inevitable
happened. Michelle sat at home alone. She scrolled through stations
hoping to find a movie, sitcom or some other mindless
entertainment. Images flashed by as she watched each for a few
seconds before moving on dissatisfied. A snatch of harmony caught
her attention causing her to pause at a music video. With a sinking
fascination, she watched a couple embrace to the strains of a
popular love song. The story of anguish when a promising love goes
wrong tore at Michelle's heart. Tears streamed down her face as the
male vocalist crooned: “Why,” a mournful voice wailed, “Why did we
have to say goodbye? If only I could see you again.” The words
could have been her own. Michelle hugged herself tightly, rocking
slowly in time with the melancholy tune.

***

Long shadows stretched across the
apartment complex. Voices calling children into supper bounced from
the concrete block walls. Tired workers straggled in from low
paying jobs. One by one window lit up as the tenants settled in for
the night.

LaWanda stood at the stove stirring a
large pot of black-eyed peas. Occasionally she checked on the
cornbread baking in the tiny oven. The television blared away as
her three children played on the floor in front of it. Her eldest
seemed oblivious to the clamor as she concentrated on homework. The
tat-tat did not immediately attract LaWanda's attention. But soon
the high pierced screams of her babies made her drop the large
spoon. Turning, she prepared to settle yet another fight. Instead
her screams blended with theirs at the sight of her youngest on his
back, covered with blood. She stumbled across the room to falling
on her knees beside Relondo. LaWanda cradled the child with one arm
and punched the phone buttons with her free hand. Pounding on her
door went unanswered as she shrieked her address at the 911
operator.

***

“
The bullet went right
through the little guy. Missed all his vital organs. Miracle.” The
tired resident rubbed his reddened eyes.

“
But he's going to be okay?”
Michelle wanted to shake him for not getting to the
point.

“
Yes. Might even go home in
a few days.” He wandered off at the call of his name from a
nurse.

“
Thank you, Lord.”Michelle
slumped into the hard plastic chair of the waiting room. Her whole
body shook with relief.

“
You oughta go on home,
sugar. LaWanda's family is here.” Candy, LaWanda's friend from the
tenants group, sat next to her and patted her arm. “I'll tell her
you were here.”

“
In a while maybe.” Michelle
pulled the fleece jacket closer around her.”I'd like to see them
before I leave.”

The glare of harsh fluorescent lights
made the charity hospital lobby appear even more bleak than usual
at four thirty in the morning. Michelle brushed her hair wondering
for the first time how she must look. She glanced to notice she was
wearing one blue and one green sock, a result of having dressed at
top speed. The ringing of the phone had shaken her from sleep at
one o'clock. A male voice, one of the tenants active in the
association with LaWanda, told her of the shooting. The drive to
the hospital was a blur. As the tension drained away, her mind
began to spin. What if she were to blame?

Earl walked in still speaking into his
compact cell phone. “Right. Got it. I'll fax it to you from
home.”

“
Thanks for stepping in for
me, Earl. Sorry I fell apart.” Michelle got up to hug
him.

“
Don't apologize for being
human,” Earl said.

“
Yeah, but I'm a
professional. Instead of getting hysterical I should have been
getting the facts.” Michelle wiped her eyes.

“
The best advice I ever got
was from my journalism professor at Howard. He said the best
reporters sometimes do get involved. Otherwise, you're like some
cold-blooded scientist staring at specimens under a glass. Once you
lose all ability to feel a story, it's time to start selling used
cars.”

“
Maybe I should sell used
cars or real estate or cosmetics.” Michelle bit her lip.

“
What do you mean?” Earl
took a seat.

“
I let ambition and hatred
of Ike Batiste cloud my judgment. I was so hot to nail him I
couldn't see where to draw the line. I let LaWanda take a dangerous
chance when she didn't have to,” Michelle said, her voice quivered
as she fought to keep from crying.

“
Child, that ain't so. We
knew better than you some of them men workin' for Miz Kinchen come
straight outta jail,” Candy broke in. She placed one arm around
Michelle. “You helped get us the attention from the big folks in
New Orleans so we could make some changes.”

“
LaWanda went as far as she
did because of me, Candy. I kept pushing for more
information.”

“
You did your job,
Toussaint. You reported on a story about people who wanted a way
out of bad situation.” Earl spoke in a firm voice.

“
Earl, I have to be honest
with myself. Getting this story, especially exposing Ike Batiste,
was important to me. Maybe so important that I went too far.”
Staring down at her hands, Michelle frowned as if in pain at the
words she forced out.

“
Don't beat yourself up like
this, Michelle.” Earl spoke softly.

“
A little kid is lying in a
hospital bed with a bullet hole in his chest. I can't help feeling
I helped put him there.” Michelle's voice broke. She covered her
face with her hands.

“
Listen to me, slugger.”
Earl pulled her to him. “You're not to blame. Nothing you said or
did was enough to put a gun in some bastard's hand and make him
point it at babies.”

“
He's right, sugar. Don't
get all tore up now.” Candy brushed her hair with soothing
strokes.

“
Let me drive you home, all
right? Come on, you won't be any use to anybody in this state.”
Earl stood up and reached for her hand.

“
But LaWanda--” Michelle
wiped her eyes with a damp tissue.

“
LaWanda got me and a lot of
other folks here to help. Go on, baby. Get some rest.” Candy took
out several dry tissues and wiped Michelle's face with maternal
tenderness.

“
Besides, we countin' on you
do some more stories and help the police fine them no good punks
what done this.” She squeezed Michelle's hand.