Forged by Fire (13 page)

Gerald laughed at Rob's usual foolishness. “Andy, I don't see why you hang with this big-head fool, except maybe to learn some basketball. What you score tonight—four?”

“Hey, Gerald, I thought you was my man. You sound like the coach—and it was six points, thank you. I got more important things on my mind tonight,” added Andy with fake dignity.

“Yeah, maybe Keisha can teach him some basketball!” teased Rob. “You wanna go with us tonight, Gerald? We got some brew and we just gonna be chillin'.”

“Naw, Rob. I got to be gettin' home to check on my little sister. And my old man ... you know how he is. . . . Besides, who would wanna be seen with two dudes named after a couple of dead presidents anyway?” Gerald laughed as he packed up his gym bag.

“Forget you, man. You seen B. J. and Tyrone?” Rob asked.

“Yeah, man. They waitin' for you out by Andy's car.”

“Hey, Andy, when you gonna get that raggedy red car of yours painted?” Rob yelled across the locker room.

“When my old man gets tired of lookin' at it, I guess,” Andy yelled back, laughing. “He said something about a reward if my grades get better, but you know how that is.”

“Yeah, man. Parents be trippin'. Still, at least you got a car. But don't get me talkin' 'bout fathers. He's the reason why I gotta raise outta here now. Where y'all goin'?” Gerald asked.

“No particular place. We just gonna chill.” Andy grinned. “We might try to find a party, or we might just finish off them beers and let the party find us. Then I'm headin' over to Keisha's house, after I take these turkeys home.”

“Don't let Keisha find out you been drinkin'. You know she'll go off!”

“Not to worry, Gerald, my man. Not to worry. I'm outta here! Peace.”

Gerald caught the first bus and was probably home before Andy and Rob had finished their first six-pack. Jordan was still at work, so Gerald got Angel from next door and fixed them both a couple of Aunt Queen's “scramburglers.” They were watching the late news when the phone rang.

“Gerald, this is Keisha. Have you seen Andy?”

“Naw, I went home right after the game, but Andy
and Rob, and I think Tyrone and B. J. too, left together in Andy's car. Andy said he was comin' by your house after he took those clowns home. He ain't there yet?”

“No. Well, if he calls you, tell him to get in touch with me right away, okay? Hey, you haven't heard anything about any accidents, have you?”

“Why is it the first thing a girl thinks about if her boyfriend is late is that he's been in an accident? I bet he's in the backseat of his car, kissin' all over some real sexy woman!”

“All you fellas are alike—worthless. Call me if you hear anything, okay?”

“Sure. Later.”

Gerald knew that Andy, Rob, and Tyrone were planning to drink tonight after the game. Keisha's call had him a little worried. Andy was silly, but he wasn't stupid. Besides, they were only seventeen. What could possibly happen?

Gerald sat next to the phone, thinking about how things had gradually changed since last year. Sure, Andy was still silly, making yo-yo grades, Rob was still the best player on the team, Tyrone spent most of his time with Rhonda, and B. J. was still short. But now Andy drove to school every day. Gerald thought it was odd that of the four of them, Andy, who had the worst grades, was the only one who had been given a car by his folks. Andy's parents rarely came to their games, but Andy always had plenty of money to spend, on food, on the latest CDs—and on beer.

Most of the boys—all except B. J.—had started drinking. At parties, after games, after school—beer was easy to get and felt better than soda pop on a Saturday night. Even Gerald, who had seen up close the awful things a drunken man can do, would split a six-pack with Andy and Rob. It made him feel strong and in charge of his life. He was tired of being scared and depressed and worried all the time. The beer made him forget. He liked that. Rob's dad didn't know and Andy's dad didn't notice, so splitting a few beers after a game had become routine.
They can handle it,
Gerald thought.
They probably just found a new place to party tonight. Girls worry too much.

But when he didn't hear anything more after an hour, he called Keisha back. Her dad's answering machine picked up. B. J.'s line was busy. So was Andy's. There was no answer at Rob's house. Finally, he reached Rhonda.

“Hey, Rhonda, what's up? Keisha called me lookin' for Andy. You seen him?”

“No, Gerald. Didn't anybody call you? There was an accident. Rob was ... Rob was... Rob's dead! Andy ran into a wall, there was an explosion, and they all got out except for Rob. Rob's dead! I can't deal with this! I feel like I'm gonna explode!”

Gerald hung up the phone and sat down in a heap on the floor. He was too stunned to even cry. He was sitting there shaking when Angel walked into the room.

“What's wrong, Gerald?” she asked gently.

Gerald could barely breathe. All of the pain of the past crowded in on him—Aunt Queen's death, Monique's
accident, Jordan's abuses. He sobbed finally with huge, burning explosions of pain. He wept for several minutes. Angel sat next to him, feeling his sorrow, understanding his grief.

“It coulda been me. They wanted me to come with them tonight, but I didn't. And now Rob's dead. It coulda been me. It coulda been me.”

Angel's tears dripped softly onto the cold wooden floor. “Not Robbie. Oh, please, not Robbie!” Gerald couldn't help her this time. His own grief threatened to strangle him.

Robbie can't be dead! Robbie can't be dead!
Gerald repeated wordlessly to himself. Not
Robbie.
Not cool,
silly, fun-loving Rob!
Gerald felt weak and heavy. He felt like he couldn't breathe, like a stone wall was sitting on his chest with the bricks running through his veins. Nothing worked right or felt normal.

He couldn't cry any more. He could only hold his head between his arms to try and block the vision that slipped in anyway. The fire—the screams—the silence.

Gerald suddenly shuddered. “What about Rob's dad? I been so busy trying to make this fit inside my head that I forgot all about Robbie's family. Oh, my God! They must be ripped!”

Gerald ran to the phone and punched the numbers with fear and ferocity. The pleasant voice of the answering machine that never had to feel sorrow or pain answered cheerfully, “You have reached the Washington residence. Please leave your number, and have a nice day!” Gerald
hung up in despair. He didn't think he would ever have another nice day as long as he lived.

“Angel, I gotta go over there. Rob's dad was there for me. I gotta go!”

“Let me go with you. Kiara's going to need someone who knows how to cry. And that's one thing I know about. You got bus money?”

“Yeah, let's go.”

Gerald and Angel walked from the bus stop in silence. It was late—well after midnight—and the stars sparkled faintly above the streetlight.

Angel glanced up. “How can the stars still shine, Gerald?”

“I don't know. It seems like the world ought to stop or something—like they ought to not show up tonight at least.”

“How can the world keep on going like nothing's happened?”

They walked up to Rob's driveway just as the Washingtons were pulling in. Kiara's door opened slowly, but she just sat there. Angel walked over to the car and offered her hand. Kiara reached toward her hesitantly and touched Angel's trembling fingers. She got out then and collapsed in huge sobs in her friend's arms.

Angel, standing under the shadow of Rob's basketball net on the garage door, glanced at the uncaring stars and waited until Kiara's storm was reduced to sniffles and sobs.

Rob's mom walked unsteadily to the house, let the dog out, took the mail from the mailbox, and after finishing with the meaningless details of the moment, sat down on the front steps, shivering and helpless. Mr. Washington picked up Rob's basketball and held it in his hands, staring at its roundness, feeling the ridges and lumps on it, softly repeating Rob's name.

“Robbie, Robbie, Robbie, Robbie, Robbie ...”

Gerald walked over to him and placed his hand on the older man's shoulder, just as Rob's dad had done for him on that day that now seemed so long ago. Mr. Washington trembled and touched Gerald's hand. His eyes said thanks, but his lips could not yet speak; too many other words and thoughts were crowded in his mind that evening. He went to his wife and took her hand, and together they walked over to Kiara. The three of them glanced at the basketball net and Rob's father let the ball drop with a dull thud to the driveway. It rolled to Gerald's feet. Gerald picked it up slowly. Holding it seemed to help erase some of the confusion that clogged his mind.

“Can I hold on to this for a little?” he asked hesitantly.

“Please do,” answered Mr. Washington huskily. “He would want...”

Rob's father finally wept. Mrs. Washington and Kiara took him into the house then.

Mrs. Washington glanced back. “I'm sorry,” she said to Gerald. “Did you and Angel want to stay over?”

“Oh no! We just came to be with you all for a little
bit. We gotta get back home now. Call us. We'll be around.”

Rob's mom smiled, then closed the door softly behind her. Gerald and Angel walked silently into the darkness, back to the darkness of their own home.

R
OBBIE
W
ASHINGTON'S FUNERAL
was held on a Saturday. More than five hundred teachers, students, parents, and friends attended. Andy, the driver of the car, sat bandaged and dazed in the third row. Gerald, consumed with grief, sat silently next to Andy, consumed with guilt.
Pain is lonesome,
thought Gerald as he watched all the kids at school caught up in their grief.
You gotta deal with it all alone.
Gerald noticed with anger that neither of Andy's parents had come to the funeral.

During the recessional, Rob's mother stopped for a moment at the third row. She glanced at Gerald with brief despair, and moved on. She would not even look at Andy.

After Rob's funeral, Gerald wanted to quit the basketball team. It was no longer any fun without Rob's silliness and Andy's teasing competition with Rob for points, for food, even for girls. Andy took Rob's death the hardest. He and Robbie had been so close, and he could not overcome feeling responsible for Rob's death. Although most of the kids at school were understanding, some of them
also had trouble with it. Andy found the word “killer” taped to his locker one day.

Coach Ripley thought that keeping the team together and finishing the season would help to save them all. Andy was made captain of the team in Rob's place. Gerald knew that Andy was proud, but that he felt uncomfortable as well. Andy knew he couldn't fill Rob's shoes. He wasn't sleeping well and his grades, which were never very good, got even worse. His parents sent him to a psychologist for counseling, which seemed to help a bit, but Gerald could see how much he was hurting.

Gerald knew about hurt. He lived with it all the time. His life, from the moment his mother had abandoned him when he was three, had been a series of disappointments and hardships, but he managed to keep his head above water most of the time. And whenever he felt like sinking, he had Angel to hold him up.

But Rob's death was different. Rob was young and talented and had a bright future. He'd had two parents who adored him, not at all like the abusive Jordan and helpless Monique. Gerald couldn't understand why Rob was gone and he still lived. He started coming home late from games, walking the five miles instead of riding the bus. He felt like he couldn't breathe on the bus any-more. Walking helped him to think and to clear the confusion in his head.

Entering the apartment around midnight one night, Gerald was surprised to see Angel there, with Jordan.

“What are you doing here?” he growled at Jordan.

“I live here.”

“I always get Angel from Miss Martin's house,” stated Gerald with suspicion.

“Miss Martin had to leave,” Jordan replied.

“It's okay, Gerald,” Angel added, to reassure him. “Jordan took me to get something to eat. Everything is fine.”

Gerald didn't like it, but he said nothing. He went to sleep, exhausted, and slept without dreaming.

Angel woke Gerald the next morning with a surprise. It was Saturday, and she knew he had two tournament games to play, so she had fixed him some lumpy grits and a piece of toast with cherry jelly. He grinned at her.

“Why you being so nice?”

“ 'Cause you been funky blue since Rob died. I thought you needed some cheering up.” Angel, at thirteen, was thin and reserved, but when she smiled, her eyes revealed a glow she rarely displayed otherwise.

“Any problem with Jordan?” asked Gerald as he licked his fingers.