A novel in progress for the National Novel Writing Month
Chapter 4
It was Thursday and me and Imani were getting ready to go out to spend a day together - all by ourselves. Joie was at work and I took the day off so I could take Imani to the Children’s Museum at Navy Pier. The Children’s Museum always has great activities for the little ones and that is a thing I wanted to share with her. As I gathered her little legs into her denim overalls and stuffed in her blue tee-shirt, I grinned. This girls know she was looking like Joie more and more every day. The lining around her mouth was a replica of Joie’s small oval shaped mouth but Imani’s dark eagle eyes were strictly from my mom. I haphazardly pulled her long black hair into two ponytails with two blue stretchable hair holders while she fidgeted with her hands to stop me because she was tenderheaded. I kept on straightening out the ponytails smoothing down her curls on the side of her face with some Jam gel.
“Ooh, da-da. Hurt!” She winched as her lips turned downward in a frown, “Stop!” She hissed as she pouted her lips further.
“Stop it yourself. I’m almost finished.” While she fidgeted I saw a journal peek from under her crowded playpen and fingered it from underneath it. My hands touched the hard covering as I noticed the scrawling writing on the front cover. It said, “DO NOT ENTER OR THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES”. The writing was pretty and flowery like Joie. Full and with a lot of life, but as I touched the pages, I couldn’t help but let my eyes skim the pages.
Opening the first page I laughed as I read a section where Joie was talking about some of Imani’s funnier moments. A few pages down from that was Joie talking about how she hated her boss Nancy Powers who was boring and also very shady when it came to certain things. I guess Joie was right, I am always tripping on her. Maybe it’s my own insecurity.
But right now I’m very curious so while Imani fingers her Hello Kitty doll and sits on the floor singing silent songs to herself, I continue hold the journal in my hand contemplating if I should just put it back down. This is my wife’s personal space. But there’s a nagging feeling attacking my soul. I want to know why she has to run to a funky piece of material and jot her thoughts down in it, when she could just tell me her true feelings. WE are supposed to be best friends.
Her best friend shouldn’t be a dairy of sorts.
With that thought pushing me on, I flip a few pages down and soak in more of her words when my eyes read the journal entry on September 13, 2004 which was over a week ago. Her thoughts on this day, seem very rambling. The writing is very scattered and I couldn’t make all of the words out but a few stuck out. In bold letters she writes in red ink I MUST LEAVE HIM. At seeing those words my gut feels like raw like someone just pulled out a piece of me and chopped it up into little pieces to be delicately cooked. The air is sucked from my lungs and a frown comes upon my face as I shut the book and leave it alone, sliding it right under the play pen. My fingers feel like fire after touching apart of her private soul.
Now I’m wondering, who is she talking about? I mean, she has to be speaking about me. I don’t know what to do with this feeling at all. Stick it under my tongue like a bitter pill suck on it until it tastes sweet again?
With those words haunting me I shove the wicked journal and those words in a deeper place ignoring those thoughts completely as I grab Imani and take her down to our crowded kitchen so I can prepare a bag of snacks for while we are out at the museum. All I can hear is the beat of Imani’s little legs as she beats me to the kitchen and she drags her Hello Kitty doll with her finding a place on the floor underneath the kitchen table.
On top of the brown kitchen table, I open a white and blue baby bag and stuff some bananas into a plastic bag, and cut apples slices to go into a plastic sandwich bag. Meanwhile I reach up to our cabinet and get a two boxes of raisins, some fat reduced crackers, and a few bottles of water. Keeping my eyes on her while preparing the bag, I go into the refrigerator to search for some cheese sticks for Imani because that is one of her favorite things to snack on. Plus, I am not getting any McDonalds from that overly expensive Navy Pier and I don’t feel like standing in any lines other than the ones we will be standing in to see the exhibits. On the top of the refrigerator I see the old copy of Joie’s favorite childhood book which is “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” which Imani loves to hear and see so I also drop that into the bag and I grab her from under the table, we head out the door to our destination, The Chicago Children’s Museum.
Upon arriving at the museum, Imani’s big black eyes are wide as a whales as she soaks in all the different colors and other kids who are roaming around the place. Her oval face is bright as she cranes her neck around to peek at all the bright colors of the pier. We walk from the entrance of Navy Pier through the vending area where I basically had to hurry her along because she became enthralled with the mosaic hanging jewelry sold at one vendor. With the bumping of the heavy bag on my side and her on the other, we trod along at a frantic pace so we can get into the museum before it really gets crowded. We were shooting for noon but Imani had to be changed into a fresh diaper before we left the house. She should be okay for the next few hours. Actually we have not had to change her a lot lately and I feel like we will begin potting training her pretty soon. There’s less and less diapers we are using.
Joie is getting happy about that. She’s already preparing for head start programs and we are looking forward to that. A good time for our little Imani.
As I glean her long body and notice that she’s over two feet inches and that she’s growing pretty good for a girl. Joie does a great job in making sure that she spends an equal amount of time teaching Imani how to eat properly and Joie is eating the same way she is teaching her to do. I love that about Joie. She’s a good mother. And it’s amazing because Joie used to over eat really bad in her earlier years but she found her way before we got together and even though she did gain a few pounds since she’s had Imani, she is maintaining a nice weight. I think that’s because she doesn’t want her daughter to get diabetes like Joie’s father.
I feel the tug of Imani’s hands as she points wildly at the entrance of the museum and we glide up the elevator upwards. “Da-ddy! Look...” imani finger waves near the “ Treehouse Trails” section as we pass the playmaze which is totally full with all kinds of kids. You hear bumps as children run, rumble and have fun in the maze. Once we get to the trails section Imani pulls me toward the huge treehouse which have green foliage all around it on the outside of it, a huge trail of dark path of fall leaves and I hear chirping of birds when we entered the space. Lines of single mothers, and other parents holding the hands of little ones greeted us when we started walking up the path. On the outside of the treehouse we saw a canoe area that had play pretend water and children were playing with plastic and homemade boats down the canoe area. Imani’s little fingers grabbed harder onto mines as we climbed up the treehouse and I bended my six foot plus inch body into the treehouse to climb near her as we played in it. I put my bag on the side and I heard the scurry of Imani’s black mary jane shoes as she dug her body further into the treehouse. Imani’s infectious giggles fill the air and I am happy. So happy to spend this time with her. I don’t even remember what my father and I did together and I know most of my time, I spent with my Aunt Jamie who took me in when my mom was out doing her partying thing.
The buzzing of my cellphone against my hip gets my attention taking me away from Imani for a split second and I flip the phone on but still have her in my line of sight.
“Yep.”
“Yo’ man, it’s Chi.”
“Hey, man. What’s up.”
“Nothing, where you been? Shay says he hasn’t seen you in a while.”
“I guess you forgot I’m a father, like I’m spending time with my daughter right now. We are at the Children’s Museum.”
“For real, I’m not too far. Maybe we can meet for lunch or something - “
“Look man, I got to get off this phone.” At this point, I’m craning my neck to make sure that Imani is doing fine. And she is. She’s chatting with another two year old girl and they are playing near the front of the treehouse. “Can you call me later?”
“How about me and Shay come by the house later?”
“Maybe you can, just holler later and I’ll let you know what the little lady says.”
“Man, come on, ain’t you the man of the house”
“Chi, please, you ain’t married, so I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Aiight, I got to go, I’ll call you later. We need to talk.”
Shaking my head at Chi’s comment, there is a cold feeling to my stomach when he mentioned coming by. I don’t even want him and Shay coming in our crib. Shay always brings trouble and Chi has been acting shady with his mysterious comments. I’m wondering what he really wants from me. We ain’t spoke since the train incident and I still don’t know what his babble was all about. The crying of Imani returns my attention as I notice her wailing on the floor, tears rolling down her face and her mouth stretched to capacity so the whole world can hear her voice. I slide the Cingular cellphone on my hip and race to her side open my bag and get some baby wipes and tissues handing her one and soothing her with soft words until she calms down.
Around mid-afternoon, Imani starts to yawn and we walk towards the entrance the Museum, placing our feet on the elevator and make our way over to the exit from the Pier. Imani was unusually quiet but I think that’s because she ate all the snacks I brought for her including all of her water and fresh fruit snacks. She didn’t want the cheese sticks at all and was very mad that I didn’t bring some peanut butter to go with her crackers. I didn’t know that was a favorite of hers and I’ll have to note that for the next time we go out on an outing. As we slowly walk out of the Pier, Imani’s feet begin to drag signally her tiredness. She stretches her arms upward and I pick her up and I walk toward the Cab stand to wait there for a cab to take us to Foster and Sheridan. That way, Imani can take a little nap, and we’ll be home in fifteen minutes since it’s only four p.m.
Joie will get off work at five o’clock and if we went by there I think Imani will be very frustrated and very hard to manage.
So, I’m voting to get her home, relax, and cook some dinner for Joie and surprise her. It’s been a while since I’ve actually been able to do that for my baby.
I put my hand out and signal a cab, grab it, then slid me and Imani in it. I lay her against my chest and feel her eyelids shut and quietly tell the cab driver to drop us off on Foster and Sheridan. Letting the bag slid in between the door and us, I sigh a relief, I’m actually doing well as a father. I’m blessed so much and I have Joie to thank for this.
She’s letting me see what she was blessed with in the beginning. Now, there’s no need to be jealous about Imani replacing me in Joie’s life. But there’s that nagging thought as I remember what I read in Joie’s journal.
I thought we were past holding secrets. Umm. I wonder what is really going on.
The screech of the cab’s tires, get my attention, and I flip a $20 dollar bill towards the cab driver, thanking him at the same time, gathering a sleepy Imani, and walking towards the apartment building, passing the doorman Roger, and then noticing a movement behind my back.
Suddenly I’m feeling the cold of a gun pistol in my back and I grab a hold of Imani a little stronger. The whisper in my left ear is a lethal threat, “Keep moving and walk like we are friends, FRIEND, you got it.” I did and I said nothing as I hoped, no I prayed that Imani would not wake up. I press the down button for the elevator and hope the beat of my heart is not as loud as it appears. I am so scared that I feel a pressure in my loins and hope I won’t urinate on myself. This anonymous person is dressed in black and has a hood over his head so I can’t exactly tell who he is. I do notice though that he is chewing on a tobacco stick and the stink of it is opening my nostrils. I also inhale the strong scent of african oil from this man’s body. He is about six foot two inches with dark hands, that is all that I can tell so far. In the slit of my eyes, I catch a image of a knife in his left pocket so I pretend to not notice and hold my breathe.
Praying.
Praying all the way that Joie won’t come home til late.
Praying that nothing will happen to Imani.
Praying that if I get this niggah some money, he’ll leave us alone.
We step onto the elevator and I feel the movement of Imani as the slobs from her mouth gathers into a mess on my black denim jacket but I don’t say a thing. Sweat beads are gathering near my temples and I itch to touch them but that too, I must act like there’s nothing wrong. I don’t want to scare my baby but I’m definitely at a loss.
Our floor is up and I am scared to face that fool so I shuffle my feet towards our apartment on the fifth floor, softly drop the bag I was holding, and jiggle the keys out of my crowded jean pocket. I’m concentrating on the number on my gold front door key 8976 while trying to soothe Imani on the back, I feel her fidgeting which means she is about to wake up.
I drop the keys which wakes her up fully.
“Ahhh! Ahhh.” A frown is upon her face.
“Shut up that child, man.” The dark voice commands me.
“Okay. Just let me get the key in” I’m nervous as hell now and I feel like a chump. First I wake her up and second the man is about to probably kill my butt. I need to breath and take another stab at getting us in the apartment and hope no noisy person is looking at this scene. Let me change my mind about that. Maybe it will be good to have someone check it out. Maybe they could call the police. I hurry up and slid the key in the door, turn it quickly and bring us into the foyer of the apartment all the while straining my ear for Imani’s cries which have turned into little sniffles.
“Da-ddy.” She hiccups. “Who dat man?” Her little eyes peer up to the stranger with fright because of all the black he wearing.
“A friend, now come on in here.” I calmly tell her this while hoping that Joie is running late or working overtime. Maybe her mom or Nandi has an after work thing plan for her. Anything to keep her from being here.
The stranger shuts the door while I lay down the baby bag on the floor near the hallway gold lamp which I turn on, and then I notice who’s the stranger and it really spins me for a loop.
“Isiah, what the hell you doing here? Like this?” I had to stop myself from calling him all the negative things that laid in my heart. Why do this and now?
“I need some money.” A blank stare on his face greeted me while he shifted for something in his pocket, and then I saw them, silver bullets which he began to load in the gun. “Right now or I take your precious little girl.” A snarl on his face proved it.
I couldn’t believe it. I stood there with my feet glued to the ground. Even Imani stopped her playing and tears were gathering in her eyes as she watched my reaction. She’s such a smart little girl mostly because of her mother I believe.
Did I dream up this damn nightmare? The last time I saw Isiah he was out on Cermak Road trying to peddle some money from people. I can’t believe he went from being the player to being played by all his ladies and now he’s out here bad. I think Mom tried to tell me something about him but I just ignored her. Now looking at the same features I have, the strong chin, the round light eyes, the smooth skin -there’s a sadness to his eyes. And his skin looks flushed and awfully tired like he hasn’t rested in ages. He looks rough around the edges and starved.
And speaking of edges, Imani’s eye gaze is glued to Isiah as she begins to sign song ‘Da-ddy!” to him coming closer to him.
“No, he’s not your daddy.” I speak softly. “This is your uncle, Isiah.”
“Isiah?” She questions to me.
“Yes, Isiah.” She looks so confused. I mean, why shouldn’t she be? We both look the same, except for the healthiness of our bodies and souls. I’m more defined and Isiah is not. He probably haven’t worked out since he gave up his player card and began trying to hustle old ladies for their credit cards and other things. Isiah is the one who makes Momma cries. With his addictions to Cocaine and Heroine, his womanizing, and his avoidance of responsibilities. He’s the one with children in several states including, here in Illinois, Kansas and Florida. He probably ain’t paid his child support in years. And those women got to be struggling. I am pissed as I stand there glaring hate for my brother. On one hand I love him because he’s family. On the other, I hate what he has done and how Momma has treated him like a baby. Probably the reason why he hasn’t straightened up yet. And why he probably is on his way to jail again.
We stand there for a minute and I hear keys in the door and then the creaking of the front door signally Joie’s entrance.
My eyes peel away fear and try to replace that with happiness for I know if she sees fear in my eyes she will break down. I need her to be strong. Hell, I need to be strong. I soak in her beautiful figure when she rolls in the house, throwing off her black leather coat, I notice her hot pink and green gymshoes and the frown on her face, which means, she is still stressed from work. I hope she doesn’t notice this fool here where all black, holding a gun, but he’s hidden since he heard the jiggle of her silver keyes and the soft sounds from her gym shoes. Yes, he’s a coward. Coming here. And to think I let this ignoramus come into my home, screw some chick, got into an argument with Joie about it and almost lost her love. Yes, this numbed out blockhead is back to mess up my life and it’s today. It’s today that he wants to come and interrupt my family, my life.
What a mess.
I notice the confused frown on Joie’s face as she drops her blue and white book bag. Her eyebrows are raised up in a zigzag as she asks me, “Hi, honey, why are all you guys standing here in the foyer?”
“Nothing. We just got here.” I move towards her to block the view of Isiah’s gun which was in her plain view. “Let’s go to the living room.” I dared Isiah to say a word even though I knew sooner or later he’d pull it out. The silent buzzing of my cell phone in my pocket reminds me I still have a chance to do something. Maybe go to the bathroom and dial Chi’s number and whisper for help.
“Mommieeee!” Imani pops up from the floor and jumps up to scream joy as she tattles away. “We had fun today. Went to the museum. It was fun...”
I hear the pounding of Imani’s feet go towards the living room and the lisp of my brother brings me back to the reality of the situation.
“Man, I want some money.” He whispered. “I don’t want no harm from ya’ll. Just need some money so I can handle my biz. You dig?” He gestured towards his gun, which was thrust in his front pocket. He rubbed it like he was going to take it out again.
There was a sour taste in my mouth; the after taste of the cheese sticks with no crackers I had chomped on during Imani and my lunchtime at the Pier. Gazing at my brother’s light eyes, I had to wonder how he got to this place. Not only was he threatening me, he was interrupting my damn life. He had a lot of nerve.
I scanned the living room took in the nice place, Joie and I had gathered together during our short two years of marriage and stuttered. “Man, why don’t you take the television, and pawn it.” I felt the pinch of the vibrating cell phone which I had to ignore because I needed to see if I could possibly fix the situation. That probably was Chi calling me back.
“No. I need some real money. Like $1,000.” He muttered under his tongue and ground out, “Man, I know you got it. Look at all this.” His hand gestured to the Thirty-Five Inch Sony Television, our precious music collection which includes Oldies like Al Green, Ohio Players, JoDeci, New Edition, old skool rap, some contemporary Gospel and more. Our three hundred cds were organized by musical genre, in our black and silver, CD rack we got off of Storehouserock.com. The black leather couch and love seat faced Isiah and I as we stood off from the living room and there was a black smoky glass table dining room set which cost us at least $400.00 but who’s counting. We earned all of this stuff. He looks at it, as if it were easy to earn.
He’s looking for cash to burn and if he thinks I am going to give him that, he’s so wrong.
“Man, let me see what I can do. I’ll go get my check book and have Joie fix you something to eat.”
I hoped that he would at least let me do that. Fidgeting in my pocket, I took out a $100 bill and stuffed in his hand hoping that it would fill his empty soul. At least it was something.
With a wicked grin on his face, “No doubt, this counts as down payment.” He flipped the money in the air, bend it, smelled it, and smiled. “Yeah, this is all good.”
I walked towards my wife and asked her what she was cooking. She caressed me on the face, gently kissing me, and I pinched her hips as she quipped, “Smothered chicken, homemade gravy, with sauteed onions and mashed potatoes. Is that okay?”
“It’s cool. Can you make an extra plate for Isiah while I go take care of something.” I lingered near her soft sweet skin and let my tongue stay there for a minute. When I looked up I saw Joie’s blush and Imani yelp, “Oooh, Daddy, kissed mommy.” She covered her little eyes and looked through her fingers as I bent down to kiss her smelling her baby lotion that opened my nostrils instantly. “Now, you girls take care and I’ll be right back.”
In a dazed state, I slowly let my feet take me to our bedroom, noticing the beautiful wedding picture on our green and black dresser drawer which revelead a thinner Joie and a more innocent me. I felt hesitation dance with my soul like it was on fire. The aroma of chicken floated back to the spot where I was and I let my fingers dig into my secret box under the second cabinet drawer. Flipping open the navy blue checkbook, I noticed that money was tight as usual and I wished we had the $900 remaining he needed, but I didn’t see it. Dang, now, what was I going to tell him. I felt screams of doubt mock me as I searched my empty mind for a solution to this problem. I mean, I could call Chi and ask him if he had the extra money, but that man is always up shadiness. So is his brother, Shay.
Fear and anxiety knotted inside me as I walked towards the living room. It was empty and I didn’t hear Imani’s two-year old chatter or any adult mutterings. I was nervous. Why was it so quiet. My heart was chanting panic to me as my feet shifted towards the kitchen. A quick and disturbing thought filled my soul as I entered an empty kitchen.
There was no chicken smell at all.
I noticed a half-cooked portion of chicken legs in Joie’s favorite iron pot. On the counter space I saw a few potatoes and a knife but they were not even pealed. My eyes took a glimpse at the whole scene and sheer black fright swept through my body. I gripped the counter space with hands that were shaking so bad that I almost lost my tight grip. A flicker of apprehension swept through me as I noticed a white note with black scribblings on it.
My eyes glazed over the hastily written words with a few word sticking out in my mind. STUPID BROTHER OF MINES...I TOLD YOU I WANTED MONEY. DON’T CALL THE POLICE. OR YOU WILL NEVER SEE YOUR WIFE OR CHILD AGAIN.
I dropped the note and fell to the floor and with it everything I ever thought I knew about Isiah disappeared.
When I wake up, I hear the ticking of the clock, the faint zooming of buses on Sheridan Road and nothing else. I feel the hard floor below me and cold slob from my mouth on the floor which I obviously felt asleep on. The salty after taste of whatever I ate a few hours ago is on my tongue and I pull myself off the cold ground as I whiff the lingering smell of Joie’s half-cooked meal. My eyes squint in the darkness as I try to make my way to the living room and before I do, my ears pick up the “Sweet Sticky Thang” by Ohio Players sing loudly from my Cingular cellphone.
With a raspy voice I yell, “Yes.”
“You so stupid, brother of mines. I told you to give me the money. All of it. Now, you have to pay.”
Silence greeted me as I tried to respond but Isiah had already disconnected the phone. Awkwardly, I bumped my way through my empty home.
Missing her touch.
Missing my baby.
Missing the chatter of Imani.
Missing taste of Joie’s lips.
I can’t believe this fool has kidnapped my family.
With trembling hands, I feel my way back to the bedroom and bump into the small dresser to the left of our King sized bed that was draped in Green and Black silk comforters and sheets. My eyes spots Imani’s Hello Kitty and big juicy tears roll down my face, I begin to sniffle and wonder why today? Through a maze of liquid that is streaming on my cheeks, I hear the single jingle from my phone again, except it know exactly who it is.
“Hey man.” My voice breaks as I answer, “Joie and Imani’s been kidnapped.”
“Hold on, dog.” Chi voices gets stern as he clears his throat, “Now tell me how it happened.”
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