Chapter 16

“A mere young boy will lead them all,” Hayvn sang coming up the stairs. “And they will heed his childish call. When tears belong to yesterday. When fears and pain have passed away.” She was in search of her Uncle Ibra to make sure he was still there and had not left her alone since she still had residual fear from coming home from school to find her G’Mama no longer there. “You’ll see how God these things supplies…. if you keep your eyes on the prize.”

            Passing by her grandmother’s bedroom with its’ closed door made her even more anxious as she found herself still expecting to see G’Mama on the queen-sized bed in front of the TV. The door to its’ right was also closed and off-limits, but this had been the case even when G’Mama was still around and she had no interest in what was being concealed from her. Her ever practical uncle had rationalized these closed doors by saying that since only two people occupied the house now only two of the house’s four bedrooms were needed. He slept in the bedroom he had once shared with his twin, who like many other things, she was not allowed to know about. She slept in her mother’s old bedroom, the smallest of the four.

            “Song 24.” Ibrahim mumbled glancing up from his laptop when Hayvn appeared in the door of his bedroom. “Where did you learn that one from since your aunt isn’t here to teach it to you? It was her favorite Kingdom song.”

            “Aunt?” Hayvn echoed. “What auntie, Daddy?”

            “Never mind, sweetheart.” Ibrahim realized his slip, brought about by the fact that he was reminiscing and typing about the same as he spoke. “Your singing just reminded me about another little girl I use to know, that’s all.”

            Hayvn came over and made herself comfortable beside her uncle, nestled into his side. Her eyes scanned the screen as he continued to type, reading yet not understanding the words. She just liked being there with him.

            Shortly after my mother gave her interview yet another letter without a return address like the one that came after Janoah’s death arrived. It contained Wisdom’s social security card, insurance card, and birth certificate. As before, only one person had been in possession of those items for the past 4 years by that time and this served as confirmation for me at least he was indeed dead. In May 2010, she gave a follow up and after 7 months of nothing, we finally had our prayers answered.

            You see, there had been this teenage boy who arrived at a hospital in Ocala in early November 2009 as a John Doe, no forms of identification anywhere on him, covered in blood with a traumatic head injury.  A nurse from the hospital thought the unknown looked a lot like the description and pictures on Wissy’s missing person’s flyer and came forward. He had died the same day and an autopsy concluded the cause of death to be blunt force trauma to the head, although little investigation was done and the teenage assumed runaway remained in a refrigerator somewhere in Marion County, Florida. Marion County authorities were all too glad to release the body to our family, which makes me think they were too cheap to pay for the pauper’s burial any unclaimed body is supposed to get in a reasonable time frame. There was no way I was going to let my mother see him like that. Hell, I didn’t I want to see my kid brother with a fractured skull looking as if he’d just gone 10 rounds with Muhammad Ali, but still I went.  

I also returned to St. Petersburg in neighboring Hillsborough County to inquire about Janoah’s death certificate, which still had not been released after 8 months and wanted to slap some sense into the supposed “professionals” who thought a perfectly healthy 15-year-old being found on death’s doorstep in a known drug house where people kept changing the story and claimed not to know her, somehow didn’t reek of foul play. I’d never seen such jacked up incompetence in my entire life.

Hayvn’s childish innocence allowed Ibrahim to hide the truth right in front of her eyes. She read and reread the secrets kept from her without any clue of the horror. It was not until she dared to glance up and noticed the tears brimming in her uncle’s eyes that she realized something was going on. “Don’t cry, Daddy.” She said reaching to wipe at his eyes with her hand exactly as she had done for her grandmother and even her mother the last time they’d seen each other.

“It’s just a matter of time.” He batted her hand away. “Before our pain becomes your pain and you learn the enduring consequences of misplaced trust. Did you finish watching the monthly broadcast like I told you to do?”

She nodded in the affirmative rubbing her damp hands dry on her indoor pants. The Society had just launched its’ brand new channel, JW Broadcasting, available on Roku which is what they used for streaming since Ibrahim believed cable was a rip-off. Every month beginning with October 2014, the Governing Body would record and release a faith strengthening program from headquarters. She had been told the debut and take careful notes, because whether or not she got to watch anything else like HULU on the Roku was contingent on if she learned something from the broadcast.

“Well go watch some of the Caleb and Sofia cartoons or something and let me work. You can see I am very busy.” He dismissed her.

Hayvn got up and left the room without protest. It was times like this that she really missed her affectionate and jovial grandmother, who she had spent many nights cozied up in bed with. She missed being hugged, kissed, and told she was loved. Not that her uncle mistreated her any way. Quite the contrary, she didn’t do without anything or have to worry about anything except her education, both secular and religious. Four years with an emotionally closed off and rigid man was beginning to take its’ toll though.

“Good night, G’Mama.” She paused and placed her hand on her grandmother’s closed bedroom door. “I love you.”

If she didn’t say that word, it didn’t get said.

Author's Note

Please feel free to critique and make suggestions

Reviews

[SweetNutmeg]

Ouch. That last line was powerful.

My only critique is this sentence:

I also returned to St. Petersburg in neighboring Hillsborough County to inquire about Janoah’s death certificate, which still had not been released after 8 months and wanted to slap some sense into the supposed “professionals” who thought a perfectly healthy 15-year-old being found on death’s doorstep in a known drug house where people kept changing the story and claimed not to know her, somehow didn’t reek of foul play.

That's an awful lot to pack into a single sentence. It leaves your reader trying to sort out the different parts and what they mean. I found it confusing and tiring.

Aside from that, this is a well written chapter that really reveals their life together. I could do with a few more visual clues, but that's just me.

[MeratheRestless]

I see room for breaks and will rework this. Thanks again.