Rhythms of Grace (31 page)

I held onto the sink as the flashback became a vision. I hadn’t had memories like this in a long time. And when I’d come out of that storm, there’d been a lot of debris left behind. I had to get in touch with God, before this thing got too strong on me. Before it pulled me under . . .

Too late.

I grabbed my mouth as I smelled the stench of the boy’s liquored breath, heard the sound of his zipper . . .

Zeely rushed to my side. “You okay?”

“I need to sit down.” I pushed past the barstools and onto the couch. The room fogged into more sights and sounds: gunshots from the school orientation . . . the crunch of metal between my car and Brian’s . . . the sound of ripping clothes from that day, that horrible day . . .

“In the name of the Most High God, I ask peace for Diana. Peace and protection. May nothing come nigh her dwelling. I thank you for her sound mind, Lord God, in Jesus’ mighty name.”

I blinked, emerging from the flashback to see Zeely’s praying hands in front of me. “Bible.” It was all I could say.

Zeely had never been with me through any of the traumas that had come raging back at me, yet she seemed to understand. She pulled a book out of her purse. “Psalm ninety-one?”

I nodded.

Zeely’s voice jogged across the page, rushing me to Jesus in record time. Just as I was really getting there though, she slammed the Bible shut. “You know what? It might have been that other boy. The one who just moved in with his dad . . .”

I took the book from her hand. “You know what, Zee? I’ve got this. You go on to school.”

She frowned. “Are you crazy? What if he—if they come back? There’s no telling when the police will get here.”

“I can’t let this spook me. Besides, it’s broad daylight. I don’t think anyone is going to do anything to me now.”

Zeely didn’t look convinced, but she put her coat back on. “Keep your phone on. I’ll call you every few minutes until I get to school. They should be here by then.” She straightened her bracelets.

“Right. I’ll be there too, before you know it.”

Five minutes later, when I was outside alone with only the howling wind for company, I regretted sending Zeely away. The truth I’d squeezed in between brushing my teeth and getting dressed this morning returned to me when I needed it most:

Do not be afraid of their faces, for I am with you to deliver you,
says the Lord, Jeremiah 1:8.

I tried to wrap God’s presence around me, only the cold shivered through me. Today I needed to feel God’s love through human hands. I needed Jesus “with some skin on,” as I’d heard children in my old Sunday school class say before.

I needed people and yet I’d pushed them all away. Zeely, Mal, and even Brian, who despite my best efforts seemed to be everywhere I turned. Mixed with all the bad flashbacks this morning, one person, someone who made me feel a different kind of fear, stood out against the rest: Brian.

Police lights painted my thoughts as the long-awaited officer made his appearance.

After a quick survey of the scene, the officer reported his findings. “It could be a kid, although I’m not sure why they cut the screen with you in sight. Do you have any enemies?” He dared to say what I was trying not to think. “No enemies. I just moved here.”

The officer paused and made a note on his report. “It’s probably kids then. We’ve had a couple calls this year around here. Otherwise, I would suspect personal. It’s as if someone wanted you to know they’d been here.”

I grated my teeth as the officer told me to be safe and offered to escort me to school. My stomach churned as I accepted his offer and got into my car and drove to my job. All I could do was wonder who had watched me last night and whether they’d caught me sleeping or come early enough to catch my nightgown ballet, meant for God alone. As I turned into Imani, I decided maybe it was better if I didn’t know.

Do not be afraid, for I am with you.

After the first few weeks of school, Imani’s straightforward schedule had changed a little, allowing for a daily morning assembly. Now in the second quarter of school, both the students and many of the teachers looked forward to it. I strained to hear the end of Joyce’s uplifting words as I hastened to my classroom. I paused to pray when I passed Zeely’s room and dipped my head when I went by Lottie’s class. She’d be changing rooms with us for the second semester so that she could use the kiln sitting in our office, unused except to remind me that each day was another firing on God’s pottery wheel. Sometimes, like now, I felt like he shattered me to the floor and then fired me up, starting all over again.

The assembly let out just as I reached the classroom and headed for my office. It wasn’t long before Brian appeared, his face pale and strained. It took all I had to keep from running into his arms, burying my head in his chest. I dug my nails into my palm.

It could have been him, fool.

The students were filing in behind him, but he came straight to the office. “Are you all right? Zee said something about a Peeping Tom.”

Shaken by his genuine concern, I forced myself not to pull away. “It’s nothing. The police think it was a teenager. There have been a few other calls they said. Zeely and I overreacted.”

“You’re not staying there tonight, are you? Zee said—”

“I’m fine. And I’m sorry for being late. How’s homeroom? Morning assembly?” I took my chair.

Brian remained standing. A little too close. “Fine. I hate to ask, considering your morning, but did you decide on the books for English? I have something planned if you’d rather I lead today, but I’m trying to go by the schedule we worked out.”

The mention of work was a welcome change. “No, I appreciate that. I think that teaching today will help keep my mind off things. As for the books, I decided to use a theme list instead of choosing individual books.”

Brian shrugged. “Sounds good. What’s the theme?”

“I figured since you’re covering slavery in first period, I’d look at writers who expressed their culture’s tragedies in literature.”

He picked up a box cutter from the corner of his desk and slashed the corner of a box of books we’d ordered. A perfect instrument for slitting a screen. Best not to think of it.

“Showing them the sin of man, are we?”

My eyes fixed on the blade
.
“I wouldn’t have phrased it quite that way, but yes, I think they need to see what we’re all capable of, if given the right motives and enough power. They also need to see what it takes to overcome the worst of circumstances.”

Brian removed the books by the handfuls and stacked them on the desk. “Nice premise, but your ‘We shall overcome’ stuff might not fly here as well as you’d like. For most of these kids, this is the end of the road. And along that road, they’ve seen more than you could imagine. More than you’d want to.”

“That’s why I want them to read these books. They need to know that this school, this class, can be an end or a beginning. The choice is theirs.”

Brian crushed the box flat. He shook his head. “Whatever. Your idealism won’t help them when they get pulled over for getting a soda after midnight.”

“Maybe not, but it might keep them from becoming hateful and hopeless like some people. Bitterness dulls brilliance.” Who was I now, Jesse Jackson? Brian just brought this kind of stuff out of me.

Brian stumbled back and bowed at the waist. “Okay, Princess, go for it. Just don’t be surprised if you don’t get your happy ending.”

Princess.

Growing up, I’d heard that word every day, spoken with a tone of fatherly pride. Despite my mother’s list of criticisms, nobody was as smart or pretty as Trey Dixon’s daughter. Or at least that’s how it was. A day came when shame swallowed Princess and left Diana in its place. But Daddy’s eyes were the worst. So hurt, so disappointed. The counselors tried over and over to tell me that it wasn’t my fault, but when Daddy came to visit and I looked into his eyes, I knew I’d never be anyone’s princess again.

The kids loved it. Once the last student had gone, I could still hear their excitement choosing their own books for the literature unit. The day’s griot had recorded the books everyone had chosen, leaving me to laugh at the comical remarks. Brian didn’t say much during class or now, one seat over, tapping away on his PDA.

Knowing I’d end up regretting it, I struck up a conversation anyway. “The kids were something today, huh?”

He didn’t look up. “Yes, they were in rare form, but you’re a great match for them. I didn’t think it would go over well, but I was wrong.”

“Is that an apology?”

Brian turned to face me with those laughing eyes of his. “Yes, I apologize.” He blew me a kiss and bowed his head.

I pretended that his gesture had no effect on me, while praying he’d repeat it both immediately and never again. “Apology accepted.”

“They really respond to you.” He settled back into his chair. “I’m surprised you didn’t have any children of your own.”

I went for my best smile, the super fake one that I used whenever this came up in work situations. As I suspected, I couldn’t quite pull it off with Brian. I pointed to the empty seats around the classroom. “All those children are enough, don’t you think?”

He pressed on, undaunted. “So you never wanted any kids?”

“More than anything. It just didn’t work out.” I paused, thankful for a moment of silence to flip the script. “What about you?”

His eyes glossed over. “Me? I wanted three, but Karyn kept putting me off. After a while I knew better than to ask. When she changed her mind, it was too late.”

I had to look away then. I knew how it felt to have the hope of a family dashed. Three miscarriages and a vasectomy had ended my dreams of motherhood. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too. I used to pity those guys with baby’s mama drama, but there are times when I wish I’d picked up a kid with somebody.”

“You don’t mean that.” I frowned.

“Okay, so maybe I don’t. I do wonder what it might have been like.”

I shrugged, hoping this topic was coming to a close. Hadn’t I just stood outside my bedroom in someone else’s footprints? Enough for one day. Still, Brian wasn’t going to give up until I finished this once and for all. And so I went for the heart, both his and mine. “Who knows? Maybe you do have a child out there somewhere. Stranger things have happened.”

He pulled his locks into a ponytail. “Nah. I was too busy studying to leave any kids behind, but if I did, the woman would have told me. She’d need child support and all that.”

I shook my head. “Sometimes situations force people to do things they wouldn’t normally do. A lot of women raise children without any—”

“Let’s drop this, okay? Even though I know it’s impossible, the thought of my child growing up without knowing me . . .” He stared out the window. “The man I thought was my father died before I was born. Unless I find my mother, I’ll never find my real father.”

This was going way deeper than I wanted to go. I’d remembered him saying something about finding his mother before, but I’d never pressed him. I had enough baggage of my own to try to carry his. I didn’t say anything, but once again, my eyes gave me away.