Page 28 - Provoke Magazine. Vol9

Love Lies
Chapter 8; It’s Over
By: Art Frazier
Love is or it ain’t. Thin love ain’t love at all. – Toni Morrison
It had been over a week since Weston and his female accomplice had been arrested for the reign of terror through the college town and surrounding commu- nities. I was on the couch at my parents and people I loved hardly left my side. The first day was full of apolo- gies, ‘we knew we shouldn’t have left you, I am so sorry I didn’t stay – do you need anything – how are you feel- ing – do you want to go out? Maybe get fresh air?’, and countless are you okay’s. I was thankful but I was tired. Yvette and Roy had called 3 times during the week and kept my parents updated on anything new that was de- veloping with the case. I had requested they spare me most of the details. I still couldn’t accept the fact I had fallen for a scoundrel. No. A murderer. A thief of joy and innocence.
For two years Weston and his accomplice, Jennifer, had been luring girls in by friendship or relationship to their woeful ends. Roy seemed to think that because it was a small town, they looked over it. The college com- munity was close to the border and local officials had become fond of stating the girls were probably lost on the other side, willfully or otherwise, it was out of their hands. Most searches never lasted long nor turned any- thing up. The way all investigations ended was that they were more than likely lost on the other side, but it had been revealed it was to no fault of their own. I recalled the officer talking to my dad while they stood outside of my hospital room the morning after; “you see a lot of prostitution and drugs and things of that nature take place when these kids can’t cut it in class but don’t want to go back home. I would say your daughter is smart or pretty damn lucky.” He patted my father on the shoul- der. I heard my father respond sternly; “we don’t deal in luck. My daughter was a divine intervention.” Even if I wasn’t performing as his chosen athlete, he still held me high. I couldn’t fully accept his notion, but I felt an immense twinge in my heart because it helped know- 28 Provokeusmag.com
ing that he wasn’t disappointed in me. He didn’t say a word the entire ride back home. My mom spoke out loud, but that is just how she is; she didn’t want answers or responses. She muttered under her breath, how will we get all of her things home – what a mess – college was not like this back in my day – can you imagine, we demanded to have a seat in a classroom without our peers’ outcries that we didn’t belong – girls, missing from places they should feel safe – the world is changing, and I can’t de- cide if it is for better or worse. I cracked a smile from the backseat because I had dug through pictures and my par- ents did seem really cool from their HS and college pho- tos. I was thankful that after all that I had went through, I still had a chance to become someone’s mom, complete- ly washed, yet comfortable with it. The news had hit my hometown before we arrived back. There were no report- ers but within five minutes of my arrival, aunties and uncles; cousins who hadn’t spoke to me in years, were all stopping by. Just wanted to check in on me. ‘I heard the news, baby, and I am so thankful that you are okay!’ My cousins not as sophisticated as the grown folks were straightforward. My closest girl cousin was all over the place, but she made me laugh for the first time, ‘giirrlll how did you not know that dude was crazy?! He ain’t try to do anything to you before all that happened? Couldn’t have been me. They would be burying him. Slow walk- ing and sad singing honety. Plus, I would have called my brother, Tony. I know him and his goons would have handled it. Better be glad they locked his ass up because I know for a fact, I could call in some favors. Okay!?’ All the attitude, finger snaps and neck rolls. She had that ex- tra black girl flavor I had never really formulated and se- cretly I always admired that about her most. As I lay in my bedroom, I felt gratitude for her existence in my life and pondered on if things would have gone differently if I had her street mentality. As if they had planned to come separately, when she left her brother Tony showed