After Nothing (26 page)

On Monday I arrived at work to find the food cabinets empty and both the kitchen and Antoine, the kitchen assistant, a complete mess. Antoine was never that calm at the best of times, but that morning he was panicking.

‘This is bullshit. I can’t do this all on my own, Nat.’

‘Where’s Michael?’ I asked, moving toward the sink to wash my hands.

‘I don’t fucking know where he is. I don’t keep tabs on him. This is his kitchen: he should be here, end of story.’

‘Okay. Well, he hasn’t called me, otherwise I would have come in earlier. Let’s just get as much out as we can.’

‘Fuck!.’

In his haste, Antoine had knocked the bowl of eggs at his elbow off the bench. Two dozen eggs now lay in various stages of ruin on the white tiled floor.

‘Clean it up,’ I said calmly, reaching for an apron.

‘I ain’t got no time. I got bacon and egg rolls on the go.’

With that he stormed off to the cooler.

I reached for the bacon, heaped into too many layers in its frypan. I pulled it off the heat. Then I began calculating in my head the order in which we needed to prep and cook the food so that we could get as much as possible in the cabinets before opening.

When Antoine came back with two trays of eggs I didn’t even give him the chance to speak.

‘Antoine, clean up the eggs on the floor before you or I slip over and break something. Then split this bacon into two frypans. I appreciate you have a lot to do, but we still make our food how we make our food, and this bacon needs to be crispy. Lastly, calm down. It’s Michael’s ass on the line, not yours, and I’m not going to put up with you charging round here like some raging bull or something. We clear?’

‘Fuck, sorry, Nat. Yep, we clear.’

‘Good.’

Michael didn’t answer his phone all day. In the afternoon he sent me a text.

‘I quit.’

That was all it said. It was enough for me. I rang Harold.

‘Put a sign up in the window,’ he advised. ‘And I’ll put an advertisement in the paper.’

‘Actually, I’m putting the job online as soon as I get off the phone to you. We’ll interview tomorrow.’

Harold made a sound of disbelief. ‘You won’t find someone that quick.’

‘Yes, we will, because I’m having to do two jobs until we get someone.’

The following afternoon Harold and I sat down to interview two applicants I’d selected from the fifty who had sent their résumés in overnight.

Harold wanted to give the job to the first applicant – a loud, fast-speaking Swedish guy in his thirties. He liked his enthusiasm.

‘Harold, he was high.’

‘Rubbish.’

‘He was high on life, or high on drugs. Don’t matter which: I’m not working with him.

‘He’s got the better résumé.’

‘Let’s see if his references check out.’

They didn’t. One of the numbers wouldn’t even connect. The other went through to the voice mail of a young-sounding guy named Prez who suggested in his message that callers text him because he never checked his voice mail.

So I got my choice. A middle-aged solo mom named Diane, who had two teenagers to feed.

She started the next day. She immediately got into a working groove with Antoine. She was fast, and her food was fantastic. She demonstrated to Antoine where he was going wrong with his food handling and cutting skills. And at the end of each day the kitchen was spotless.

She didn’t smile a lot, and outside of food she never seemed to have too much of interest to say, but she was a good cook.

By the end of her second week it felt like my workload had halved. I hadn’t realized how much of my time had been spent trying to get Michael to do his job properly. Diane had to suggest to me that I not come into her kitchen to help out with preparing the food. She also asked to take over the ordering of supplies. I was hesitant to give the responsibility over, but in the first order she spent less than I normally did.

‘I’ve noticed we’ve been throwing out more than we need to,’ she said when I talked to her about it.

‘I’m not sure you’re real,’ I replied.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re too good to be true.’

I was rewarded with one of her rare smiles.

With my time freed up other things became more obvious to me, like that our signage needed improving, and that if I replaced the small prints on the walls with larger ones, it would detract from the red and purple decor. I also had time to learn the new accounting system Harold had bought, which he could never get to accurately reflect the business’ operating costs or to balance with the money in the bank.

It took me two days to master the system. Harold was so relieved he offered me a pay rise and a brand new laptop if I agreed to take over doing the day-to-day accounts. I agreed.

One day, we were getting close to closing after a day of non-stop customers. There was no longer anyone queuing for food and drinks, and only half our tables were occupied.

I hadn’t had a break all day, so I’d made myself an espresso and gone to sit at an empty table tucked in the farthest corner of the shop.

I opened my laptop intent on looking for a place for Kane and me to rent. The door to the shop opened, and as usual I glanced up.

Bey looked around the coffee shop, missing me in my corner.

I called out to him, and then asked one of the servers to make him a coffee.

Bey gave me a nod as he pulled out a seat.

‘You hungry?’ I asked as he sat down. A weight I didn’t even know I had in my stomach suddenly sank. He kept looking around him, as though he didn’t quite trust his surroundings. He had an unwashed smell about him.

Bey shook his head at the offer of food.

‘You want something other than a coffee?’

‘Beer?’ said Bey, his eyes darting round the customers sitting nearby.

‘Sorry, not licensed.’

He looked back at me, a smile in his eyes.

‘Jus’ fuckin’ with you, Nat.’

‘You in the city for a reason?’

‘Nah. Been home but you know how it is.’

His expression saddened, and I was struck with the realization, as I looked into Bey’s good eye, that Joey had his dad’s eyes. Big, and soulful, with long lashes. For some reason though, while Joey’s eyes were part of his cuteness and beauty, Bey’s one perfect eye seemed to emphasize the ruin that was the rest of his face.

‘Joey okay?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, he fine.’ Bey’s heavily tattooed hand picked up my coffee. He took a sip, and then another.

‘Shit’s good.’

‘Best you can get in the city.’

Bey nodded, and drank again, before draining the cup altogether.

‘Reesey never shut up ’bout him,’ he said.

‘Joey?’

Bey looked right at me.

‘Shit’s full on.’

‘Sometimes you want a break?’

‘I want Reesey be Reesey, but she ain’t no more.’

‘Because she’s a mom,’ I said gently. ‘Joey’s still really young, Bey. Only six months.’

Bey frowned as the coffee I’d ordered for him was delivered. He then glared at one of our regulars, Tim, who was watching us from a nearby table.

‘You know that nigga?’

Tim was a lawyer, who came in for a fifteen-minute lunch break on the days he wasn’t in court. He’d told me he ate lunch late because he worked till midnight most nights. He was nice. He’d asked me out, but only the once. When I said I had a boyfriend he accepted it – unlike some of our other regulars.

‘He’s a valued customer,’ I told Bey.

‘Why he lookin’ at you like that?’

I looked back at Tim. His phone had just rung, and he was answering it while making ready to leave.

I waved at him. He waved back and left.

‘Kane kill that motherfucker,’ said Bey, looking like he was contemplating doing it himself.

I thought about pointing out that unlike him, Tim had never touched me. Taking in Bey’s demeanor, however, it didn’t seem like such a good idea.

‘Niggaz try it on?’

‘Always, but not him. And I tell Kane. He laughs. Reckons good luck to anyone who wants to get with me.’

Bey frowned. ‘Anyone try it with Reesey, I kill ’em.’

‘I know you would. You know, me and Kane can have Joey more so you and Reesey get some time to yourselves.’

‘Reesey worried rats get him at your place.’

I exhaled a short impatient breath.

‘Like I would ever let that happen. No one is more paranoid than me about those damn rats.’

‘I tell her,’ said Bey.

‘Me and Kane are moving.’

‘Nigga said.’

‘I promise we’ll get a rat-free house where Joey can come stay as long as you want.’

Bey nodded at that idea.

‘Reesey won’t leave him with no one but you.’

I went to say something, and then stopped myself.

‘Yeah?’ said Bey, as though he was expecting it.

‘Are you and Reesey okay?’

‘Yeah, we okay. Jus’ had a disagreement s’all.’

‘Kane and me, we owe you and Reesey. We’d do anything to help.’

Bey looked around him again.

‘You run this place?’

‘Sure do.’

‘You make it happen?’

‘I manage it.’

‘But you don’t cook?’

‘No. Just make coffees, and serve. Do the paperwork. Split the tips. Sweep the floors.’

‘Kane reckon you is cleaning crazy.’

‘I have to be around him.’

‘Bitch, you givin’ my boy a hard time?’ said Bey, smiling his broken smile: lopsided, with teeth missing, and part of his top lip collapsed in on itself.

‘Your boy does alright, Bey.’

‘Kane, he different, you know what I’m sayin’? He ever talk ’bout Shys?’

‘Not often. I think he finds it hard.’

‘Lil’ niggas always making each other laugh. I wouldn’t even know what the fuck so funny. They that close, you know. See shit at the same time no one else see … Anyhow. Can’t change it.’

He rubbed the ruined side of his face, and then abruptly changed the conversation.

‘You goin’ church this Sunday?’

‘I think so.’

‘I’ll take you and Reesey.’

‘You going to come in this time?’

‘Nah.’

‘One of these days though?’

‘Place ain’t for me.’

‘Says who?’

‘Can’t pray and shit. Jus’ ain’t me.’

I shrugged. ‘I just like the singing.’

‘You ever gonna get Kane there?’

‘He was at Joey’s baptism.’

Bey smiled again. ‘Goin’ in, he makes this sizzling sound like me and him up from hell. Reckon we don’t belong in no church.’

‘Kane did go with me, once, years ago. But Reverend Joe freaked him out. Now even he can’t get him to go back.’

‘Rev gotta lot of time for Kane.’

‘And you.’

‘Feel like I let him down.’

‘He’s not like that, Bey. You could talk to him about anything and he wouldn’t judge.’

‘Yeah, I know. Don’t know how you get to be that sort of nigga.’

‘Obviously he’s got a good woman.’

Bey nodded. ‘Reesey a good woman.’

‘Bey, Reesey’s the best.’

After Bey had gone I continued to sit at the table. Instead of looking for houses to rent I sent Kane a long email telling him how much he meant to me.

I finished it by saying,
‘Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be. Always.’

I groaned as I got into bed.

‘Feels so good.’

‘What?’ said Kane.

‘Bed,’ I replied, turning on to one side and snuggling into my pillow.

‘Where’s your phone charger?’

‘In the drawer. Where’s yours?’

‘Fucking rats have chewed through it.’

‘I’ve told you not to leave it out.’

‘Think that’s what’s wrong with the bathroom light too,’ said Kane, plugging the charger in on his side of the bed. ‘Fuckers have chewed the wiring.’

I was too tired to react.

‘We gotta get out of here, Nat, or you know we’re gonna wake up eaten one day.’

‘I’ve only seen one, and we haven’t heard any at night,’ I said, my eyes getting heavy to the point where I gave in and closed them. ‘Keep putting the poison out,’ I murmured.

‘We still gotta move.’

‘Mmm,’ I agreed, almost asleep.

The mattress moved with the weight of Kane’s body. Then my body rocked back against him as he pressed up against my back.

I was only wearing a t-shirt, and his hand went to the bare skin of my hip before it slid up beneath it. His lips pressed against the back of my neck, and he cupped one breast.

‘I got your email.’

I smiled.

He moved, pressing the weight of his body against my back so that I shifted on to my front. The heat of his mouth moved through the cotton covering my shoulder and enveloped the skin beneath.

‘You want to be where I am?’

I nodded into the pillow.

‘You tired?’

‘Mmm.’

One of his hands moved around my waist. And then down, over my stomach, forcing its way between my skin and the bed sheet.

His other hand pulled my left hip upwards.

‘You gonna move for me?’

I shifted some of my weight onto my elbows, and Kane slid his fingers in a path that had me tightly grip the pillow.

He did it again. I said his name.

He was silent. Focused. Listening – to my breathing, to my body. I said his name again and then pressed my face into the pillow. Words and their meaning were lost.

I jolted awake. The weight of Kane’s arm around me was suddenly gone. An echo of sound, foreign and familiar at the same time, reverberated in my head.

Kane was already out of bed and pulling on clothes.

‘What was that?’ I asked.

‘Stay here. And leave the light off.’

The sound of a gun firing exploded into the night. I flinched. Kane swore. It was the same sound, this time without the blanket of sleep. Kane moved toward the bedroom door.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Don’t leave this fucking house,’ he ordered, and disappeared into the dark.

How could my own breathing be so loud? How come I can’t quieten it?

I find clothes in the dark.

I have to force every footstep I take toward the backdoor.

I crouch down at the backdoor. I pray.
Please come back, Kane. Please come back. Don’t get hurt.

I strain to hear even the smallest sounds.
Eventually it comes, in the form of a baby crying. I know that cry. I inch the door open. Light is blazing from Bey and Reesey’s house and Kane’s form is crossing their yard back to me. As he draws closer the crying gets louder. He’s holding Joey.

I call out as I come outside. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Get my phone,’ replies Kane.

When I return he’s jumped the fence with Joey in his arms, and meets me at the backdoor.

‘Hey man, what’s going on?’ yells the neighbor on the far side of our house.

Kane gives me Joey. He’s dressed in a cotton jumpsuit. His little body is shivering in the fall air, and I clutch it tightly to mine.

‘They’re dead,’ says Kane to me. I stop breathing. ‘Bey’s shot her, and himself. They’re just lying there in the lounge, dead.’

Kane put his phone to his ear. I take a slow, shuddering breath. Kane stares at me as he reports what he’s seen. Gunshot wounds to the head. Fired at close range.

The neighbor is crossing our yard. Joey’s cries have lessened to whimpers. The air has gotten heavy; it drags at my body as I take him inside. I feel twice my weight. I move at half speed.

I find a blanket to wrap Joey in, and then sit down on the couch. Nothing seems real. The bright lights at this time of night suggest that everything might be fake.

Even Joey doesn’t seem real. What’s he doing here? He cries on and off. I slowly rock him backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards.

I start singing the song ‘He’s got the whole world in His hands.’

I press a kiss to the top of Joey’s head. Then another - all the while quietly singing to him.

Joey looks up at me, his eyes searching, searching.

Kane comes and goes, then comes and goes.
Joey’s weight relaxes against my chest.

I’m keep singing the same song. Over and over.

Joey’s eyes close. Then open. Then close. They stay shut. I keep rocking him. Backwards, forwards, backwards, forwards, in time to the song.

There’s a knock on the front door. I think it’s the police, but it turns out to be Julie. Minutes later Reverend Joe comes in the back door with Kane. Julie makes everyone hot drinks.

Joey still sleeps in my arms, I don’t stop rocking him. I’m no longer singing, but I can still hear the song.

Flashing lights through the curtains signal the police. Kane and Reverend Joe go back outside. Julie sits beside me. She takes my hand. I stop rocking. Child Protective Services arrive to take Joey. Suddenly I’m present. The song is gone. I’m aware of my surroundings. Aware of what these two strangers are saying. I am no longer at half speed; my weight is my own.

‘No one’s taking him from me,’ I say to Julie.

Fortunately Reverend Joe and Julie are well known to CPS. Three phone calls and some paperwork and Joey is given into their custody.

Julie tells me she’s taking us home.

‘He needs his diaper bag. And a change of clothes. He doesn’t have his favorite blanket.’

‘We’ll make do.’

‘Reesey’s still feeding him.’

‘There’s some formula at home.’

‘Reesey won’t like this,’ I say.

‘Won’t like what, honey?’

‘Us taking him.’

‘Natalie, Reesey can’t look after him. We need to do that tonight.’

I stand up. Joey stirs in my arms, and then settles again. The weight of his head on my shoulder is reassuring.

Kane comes out to the car with Reverend Joe. One of the people from CPS gives Reverend Joe a car seat for Joey. Kane helps him put it in. Then Reverend Joe takes Joey out of my arms. Joey barely stirs as he’s placed in the car seat.

‘I’m going to the Drummonds’ with Joey,’ I say to Kane.

‘I know.’

I wipe at my face, and then look at my hand, not quite comprehending why it’s wet.

‘What’s happened?’ I ask Kane.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I can’t quite think what’s happened.’

I wipe again at my face. More wetness on my hands. The taste of salt in my mouth.

Kane takes me into his arms. My body is trembling in his hold.

‘Oh, God, Kane. Oh, God.’