“I’m glad you changed your mind,” Rich says when he picks the call.
I sigh, sadly. “I didn’t. I’m hoping to change yours.”
There’s silence on the other end, and then, “You can’t. I have to do this. I can’t let my brother rot behind bars.”
I tear up. “Please, Rich.”
“I never should have called you. I’ll figure it out on my own like the other times I’ve done the sales.”
I’m about to say something else, but the call ends.
He’ll be fine, I assure myself. Everything will be fine.
That night I wonder what would’ve happened if I wasn’t Naomi’s student, or if I wasn’t younger than her. I sleep off before I can come up with an answer for that.
I don’t have a nightmare about Rich that night.
We pray as a family the next morning. Mom raises a prayer point about Rich. She says that God should return him back to his parents hale and healthy. I feel guilt curl up within me like a reptile moving around the walls of my stomach.
I still don’t say anything. I made a promise to my friend and I intend to keep it. It would all be over soon.
During breakfast, my mom says, “You’re going to school with your father this morning.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I wasn’t asking. I don’t know what this new found behavior of yours is, but I’m sick of it. Your father will take you to school whenever he’s able to and that is the end of it.”
I’m pissed. Why’s she suddenly making me do this? I don’t want to be around him for too long. I’m sure I’d lose it if I am. Why’s she making me do this?
Immediately we leave the house, I ask my father, “Why’s mom making me go to school with you?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
And that was that for our conversation. Well at least until my father asks, “You didn’t tell your mother about that night did you?”
I know exactly what night he’s talking about. I think of it every time I think of Rich, which is a lot. “What night?”
“The night I came home late,” he answers.
“I didn’t think there was need. I thought she already knew.” I knew she didn’t.
“Okay that’s good,” he said sounding genuinely relieved. “I never asked what you were doing out so late.”
I act as if I don’t hear. But then I answer after a short while. “If you tell me what you were really doing outside at that time, I’ll tell you mine.”
“You’re being rude again.”
“No, I’m negotiating. Because I know full well you didn’t go to work.”
He laughs. “Alright detective you got me. I was planning a surprise.”
Bullshit. “What surprise?”
“Our Seventeenth wedding anniversary is coming up. I’m planning a surprise for your mom.”
There are so many questions I want to ask him. Like; “Why did you have to go out at night to plan your surprise?” “Why are you lying to me?” and “Why are you cheating on mom?”
But I don’t ask any of them.
School today is weird, uneventful. Thunder doesn’t come to class, which is strange. Naomi doesn’t come to school again today, but no one seems bothered by that. I wonder if it’s because of me. I wonder if that means she’ll call me tomorrow to cancel our lectures. It’s stupid, I know. It can’t be because of me. She has her own problems.
She comes to school the next day, so we have lectures that evening. She’s colder than usual and I know it’s because of the nonsense I said the last time we saw.
I can’t even pay attention. I’m worried about Rich.
Naomi notices this. “What’s wrong?”
“My life sucks,” I announce.
“That’s life. It sucks for everyone. If you haven’t realized that yet, then you’re not ready for it.”
With that she continued teaching.
My father picks me up after. When I get home I eat, try and fail to read and sleep. I don’t dream at all that night.
Saturday morning we pray and afterwards chores begin for me. I hate Saturdays because of the numerous house work that have to be done. And this Saturday is no different.
When I’m resting in the afternoon, mom comes into my room, and behind her is dad. They both look like they just witnessed genocide. Mom looks like she’s been crying for a while.
What happened?
Did she find out about the cheating?
Something within me tells me that isn’t it. “What’s wrong?”
My mom sits on my bed, arms open. “I’m sorry,” she says pulling me into her arms.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” I ask, my heart beating heavily, slowly. I can feel myself already tearing up.
“Rich’s parents called a few moments ago. I’m so sorry dear. But they’ve found Richard.” At first I don’t understand why she’s sorry about that. He’s clearly bailed his brother with the money and come back home. Then she says, “Richard is dead.”
I freeze.
I finally compose myself and pull away from my mom. “What are you talking about? He’s not dead. No. He’s not dead.”
My eyes begin to water. “I’m sorry dear. They found his body…” she sniffles and sighs, “there was a shootout today. The police killed him.” I stiffen. “They said he was dealing drugs. He was such a sweet boy.”
I could’ve stopped him. I could’ve saved him.
Tears flow down my cheek and a hiccup rises in my throat. I don’t want to believe it. He can’t be dead. His life couldn’t have ended just like that. But it has.
My father walks closer. “I’m sorry, son. I know how much he meant to you.”
“He was just trying to help his brother,” I say in tears, not caring of what it would mean that I know this.
“How do you know this?” mom inquires.
“He called me,” I cry out.
Mom and father glance at each other, shock evident, but I don’t care about that.
Rich is dead.
I explode; a burst and shatter of tears and throat wrenching hiccups.