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  “I want to be good, Grammy, I just don’t know how,” she cried one night while a man sat next to her bed, wiping sweat and tears from her face.

  He whispered into her ear, “You’re going to be okay. Just have to let these old demons go.”

  Cynda thrashed around the bed, then she heard the man say, “Trust God. And lean not unto your own understanding.”

  “Huh?” she asked, opening her eyes. She put her hand over her face. “Turn that light off.”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  Cynda brought her hand down and looked into a familiar face. “Hey, I remember you.” Then she smiled as a puzzle piece fell into place. “You were at Spoony’s house that day weren’t you?” He nodded. “Why’d you resuscitate me?”

  “You have much to live for,” he answered.

  A nurse pulled back the curtain and walked toward Cynda’s bed. “Who are you talking to in here?”

  Cynda nodded. “My friend, he’s sitting right here. Don’t you see him?”

  “Nobody is sitting in that seat,” the nurse chuckled.

  Cynda turned toward the seat and saw that it was indeed empty. “He’s always doing that.”

  “Doing what?” the nurse asked as she checked Cynda’s vitals.

  “Disappearing.”

  The start of the next week brought psychotherapy. Dr. Philmon, the staff psychiatrist told Cynda that she had to participate in group sessions with the rest of the drug heads. Cynda wasn’t having it. They weren’t just going to pick her mind apart and leave her open and unfixed. She sat in the session, listening to the other dope heads confess their transgressions. After one of these sessions, another participant walked over to her.

  “You need to loosen up, girl. How do you think you’re going to be free from whatever is eating you up inside if you don’t talk about it?” the woman told Cynda.

  “Ain’t nothing eating me up inside,” Cynda replied.

  The woman put a cigarette in her mouth and extended her hand. “I’m Maggie.”

  Cynda shook her hand. “I’m Cynda.”

  “Look Cynda, if you want out of this place, the best thing to do is cooperate. Open up when the doc has us in group sessions.”

  Shaking her head, Cynda said, “I’m not spilling my guts to him or anybody else in this group.”

  “Suit yourself, but I spill my guts every chance I get. That’s why I’m going home next week.” Maggie rejoined the group and left Cynda standing alone.

  ***

  “Iona, this is Dr. Bozeman, the Christian counselor I told you about,” Isaac told his daughter.

  “The one you want me to talk to?” Iona asked.

  Isaac nodded.

  Dr. Bozeman held out her hand. “Hello, Iona, you can just call me Beverly. I’m real happy to meet you.”

  Iona shook Dr. Bozeman’s hand and said, “I guess you can call me Iona.”

  Nina and Isaac laughed. “I’ve cleaned off my desk. The office is yours if you’d like to speak with Iona in there,” Nina told her.

  Nina showed Beverly to her office after Beverly took her up on her offer. “Just make yourself at home. We really appreciate you doing the sessions at the house.”

  Beverly walked around Nina’s desk. She picked up the tattered orange stress ball. “Yours?”

  “I’ve needed it a lot lately,” Nina admitted.

  “Really?” Beverly asked with questioning eyes.

  Iona slowly walked into the room and Nina backed out. “Well, Beverly, I’ll talk with you after your session with Iona. Maybe I’ll lie on the couch and let you analyze me.”

  “Where do you want me?” Iona asked when Nina closed the door.

  “How about right there?” Beverly pointed at the black leather chair in front of Nina’s desk. Then she scooted Nina’s leather recliner in front of the desk, so she and Iona sat facing one another with nothing in between. “How’s that?”

  Head bowed low, hands in lap, Iona said, “Fine.”

  “I agreed to meet with you here because I thought you would feel more comfortable talking with me in your own home.”

  Iona looked up. “This isn’t my home.”

  “Oh, really? Well, where do you live?”

  Iona hunched her shoulders. “I used to live with my mom, but that wasn’t our house either.”

  “Would you like to talk about your mother?”

  She shook her head.

  Beverly asked, “What would you like to talk about?”

  “Nothing.”

  “If we’re going to sit in here, we have to talk about something.”

  “All right.” Iona said, “Why don’t you tell me about your family?”

  ***

  When Keith arrived for his first visit, Cynda told him, “They’re trying to kill me in here. You’ve got to take me home with you.”

  Keith put her hand in his and gently stroked it. “I can’t, baby. This program is going to help you kick the habit. If you would just work with the people, it’ll be over before you know it.”

  She pulled her hand from his. “Get out of my face. I don’t want to see you anymore!”

  He sat down and began to eat one of the sandwiches he’d purchased out of the vending area.

  Cynda stood with arms folded.

  “You want something out of the vending machine?” Keith asked her.

  “No,” she told him, then sat next to him and lifted his chin. Glaring at him, she said, “Can’t you tell when you’re not wanted? Are you really this thick? Or are you just pretending to be stupid?”

  Sadness crept into Keith’s eyes as he rewrapped the uneaten portion of his sandwich. “I’ve got to get back to work anyway. I’ll stop by tomorrow. If you want company just let me know, if not, I’ll get out of your way.” He stood. “I brought something for you.” He handed her a piece of paper then turned and left.

  At first Cynda wasn’t going to read it. She was going to ball it up and put it in the trash, but then decided it wouldn’t hurt to read the note before throwing it away. She opened the paper and read the words:

  Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.

  She smiled at the note; her visitor had said the same thing to her just the other night. She would have to tell Keith about him.

  24

  The day before Maggie was released, Dr. Philmon brought the group together for another fabulous ‘why I am a loser’ session. Cynda sat in the back with her feet in the chair and her knees pushed against her chest. She wanted to throw up when Maggie told the group that she’d made amends with her mother and would be moving back to Cleveland to live with her.

  “That bus can’t leave this town fast enough for me.” Maggie told the group.

  Dr. Philmon said, “That’s good news, Maggie. You’re taking a step in the right direction.”

  “Yeah,” Maggie agreed. “I figured it was high time I reconnected with my mother. She’s not getting any younger – and I miss the old girl.”

  Cynda rolled her eyes, put her feet down, and stood up. “What if you get home and your mother has a new man and can’t be bothered with you? Then what you gon’ do, huh? Where will all your big plans for starting over with your mother be then?”

  Cynda then stormed out the room.

  ***

  Iona screamed, “I’m tired of talking. Why don’t you stop coming over here?” Iona and Beverly were in Nina’s office for the third time in two weeks. And she was done.

  Beverly said, “I just want to help you, hon, that’s all.”

  “But I don’t want your help. I don’t want you asking about my mother, or about Uncle Spo- I mean Spoony. I just want to forget, but you won’t let me.” Iona got up and ran out of the room. Nina was in the kitchen putting away the dinner dishes when Iona stormed in.

  “Where’s my dad?” Iona demanded to know.

  “He’s at the church, attending a men’s Bible study tonight,” Nina said. “How is your discussion with Beverly going?”
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br />   Iona folded her arms across her chest. “Make her stop asking me how I feel about my mother.”

  Nina picked up the dish towel and dried her hands. “Beverly is just trying to help you explore your emotions.”

  “My mom was a whore. How am I supposed to feel about that?”

  Beverly came into the kitchen and put her hand on Iona’s slumped shoulder. “I’m sorry, Iona. We can find something else to talk about if you’re not comfortable.”

  Arms still folded, lip poked out, Iona jerked away from Beverly’s touch. “Just stay out of my face,” she said.

  Nina put the dish towel down. With a long suffering sigh she asked, “Why do you have to be so defiant? We are just trying to help you.”

  “I don’t need your help,” Iona yelled as she turned and ran out of the house.

  “Great! Another wonderful night at the Walker residence,” Nina said, throwing her hands up. She then turned to Beverly. “Thanks for coming tonight.” She looked toward the front door. “I’ve got to go get her.”

  Beverly patted Nina on the shoulder. “Just call me when she’s ready to talk again.”

  “Will do.” Nina stepped onto the porch to confront Iona. But she wasn’t there. She squinted in the darkness, but couldn’t make out Iona’s form on either side of the street. Hyperventilating, she put her hands on top of her head and screamed, “Oh, God please help me!”

  Beverly stepped out onto the porch with her briefcase and car keys in hand. “What’s wrong, Nina?”

  Frantically pointing into the darkness, she told her. “Iona’s out there.” There, being the darkness of night. Bad things happened at night. The Mickey Jones’ of this world lurked in the night waiting for the opportunity to put a bullet in unsuspecting kids like Donavan. The Charlie Dupree’s beat and pimped girls like Ebony. “I’ve got to find her.” Nina ran off the porch screaming for Iona.

  “I’ll help you look,” Beverly said.

  They jumped in Beverly’s car and then Beverly drove down Superior, Grand and Lexington, Nina scoured the streets. As far as she knew, Iona hadn’t made friends with any of the neighborhood girls, so she didn’t have a house she could walk up to and ask, “Is Iona here?”

  Beverly stretched out her arm. “Look, is that her?”

  They were driving by Broadway Park – the same park where Donavan almost got himself killed. “Stop the car!” Nina got out and ran toward the little girl seated on the lopsided swing. She had to tread a hill to get to the swing sets. Sand and gravel cut into her bare feet. That’s when she realized she’d left her shoes at home. The grass had been worn down in most spots. All that remained was dirt and concrete. The concrete was, of course, where the basketball rims and picnic tables were. So, Nina endured the pain as she treaded through dirt and rocks toward Iona. It had to be her – the little girl had on the same white cotton t-shirt that Iona had on. Her hair was in two ponytails like Iona’s had been. Dear God, let it be her, Nina thought.

  Out of breath, Nina bent down, hands touching her knee caps as she stood in front of Iona. When she caught her breath, she asked, “Why’d you take off like that?”

  Iona didn’t answer.

  Beverly came up the walk. “You got her?”

  “Yeah,” Nina said, and then held out her hand to Iona. “Come on, honey. It’s not safe out here at night.”

  Iona took Nina’s hand and they went home. They didn’t go inside though. Sitting on the porch Nina talked with Iona about the things that could happen to a little girl at night. Little girls that get away from their parents.

  Iona listened, and as her shoulders began to shake from the current of her tears, she confessed, “I was going t-to run away. But I didn’t have anywhere to go. Nobody likes me.”

  At that moment, Nina forgot about Iona’s earlier defiance as she gave the internal struggle this girl was dealing with, her undivided attention. Nina hugged her and thanked God that Iona hadn’t gone far.

  Wiping the tears from Iona’s face, Nina said, “Let us help you, baby. You can’t live with all this stuff bottled inside.”

  “But I don’t want to hate my mother,” Iona cried.

  Surprise register on Nina’s face. “We don’t want you to hate your mother. We’re just trying to help you deal with some of the things you’ve gone through.”

  Frustrated, Iona hit her legs with her fists. “You want me to say that what my mother did was wrong. But if she was wrong, I should hate her, right?”

  For the first time since Iona came to stay with them, Nina felt pain that wasn’t her own. Tears formed in her eyes and she wiped them away. She hugged Iona again. Then, as they parted, Nina asked, “Can I tell you a story about a Man who loves us, even though we continue to do wrong things?

  ***

  The following day when Keith came to see Cynda, she was insulting and cantankerous. “You’re not a man,” she said while laughing at him. “You don’t even know how to take what you want.”

  Keith rubbed her arm and asked, “How are the sessions going?”

  She pushed and cursed him. “Does that tell you how the sessions are going?” She pushed him again. “You make me sick. I’m serious. I vomit every time I think about you.”

  But when Keith arrived the following day, she ran to him. Gave him a hug. “I didn’t think you were going to visit me today.” She hugged him again. “I missed you so much.”

  Keith knew that this was all a part of the mood swings he would have to endure while Cynda came down off the drugs. One day she’ll love him and the next day she’d hate him. He was prepared to go the distance with her.

  They sat down at one of the tables in the visitation area. “I brought you another scripture.”

  Cynda took the paper from him and read:

  I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with loving kindness have I drawn thee.

  I will build thee, and thou shalt be built, O virgin of Israel: thou shalt again be adorned, and shalt go forth in the dances of them that make merry.

  Cynda smirked. “I hate to break it to you, Keith, but I haven’t been a virgin since my mama’s boyfriend had his way with me when I was eight years old.”

  And in her eyes Keith saw the pain those words caused her. “God will rebuild you. You will become like new again,” he said with conviction.

  Shaking her head she said, “I don’t understand you. How can I become new when I’m already twenty-nine? I’ve seen and done too much to ever be new again.”

  Keith took her hand in his and squeezed. “Trust God, Cynda. He is the maker and giver of all good things.”

  She pulled her hand from his grasp. “I can’t trust in a God that has never done anything for me.” She put his face in her hands “You Keith, you have been good to me. But I can see you. I can touch you.” She explored his brownish-grey eyes, his flat nose, and the high set of his cheekbones. “Don’t ask me to believe in a God I can’t see.”

  “That’s just it, Cynda. When you see me, you’re looking at my God. Everything I am is because of Him.”

  She let his face go. “Well, I don’t want to become like your God.”

  ***

  “Why are you putting yourself through this, Keith?” Janet asked him as he prepared to leave work to go see Cynda.

  “What else am I supposed to do?” He put a stack of papers in his briefcase.

  Janet put her hand on his arm and said, “Let her go. She’s no good for you.” She brushed her hand across his face. “Look at you. You never used to come to this office unshaven, and unkempt.”

  He looked at his clothes. They were a bit wrinkled, but he wouldn’t say that he was unkempt.

  “Don’t destroy yourself for this woman, she’s not worth it,” Janet said to him.

  Keith removed Janet’s hand from his face. “I took vows before God with her.”

  Janet smirked. “Shoot, as far as I’m concerned, you and God are even. He can’t expect you to stay with a woman like that.”

  Zipping his briefca
se, Keith told her, “That woman is my wife, Janet. And I owe her my loyalty and love. I’m going to be there for her and that’s final.” He heard the harshness in his voice and regretted it as Janet backed away from him like a wounded animal. “Look, Janet, let’s just keep my wife out of our discussions. Okay?”

  During Cynda’s fourth week she asked to see Iona. But Keith had to tell her that Isaac didn’t want her coming to the rehab facility. Keith also had to tell her that Isaac had indeed received full custody of Iona.

  “He’s a pig! He ruined my life and now he’s keeping my daughter away from me, and the courts are just going to let him do it,” Cynda spat.

  “Iona’s in therapy. Isaac doesn’t want anything to set her healing process back,” Keith explained.

  “If he hadn’t treated us so carelessly, she wouldn’t need therapy.”

  “Be reasonable, baby. You can’t blame Isaac for how your life turned out.”

  Huffing, and screaming in Keith’s face, she told him, “He sold me to Spoony.”

  Keith leaned back as his wife pulled at her hair and then angrily let it flop down around her face.

  “That’s right,” she continued as she strutted around in front of him. Her blue jeans swish, swish, swished with each angry step. “Your precious preacher man gave me to Spoony and let him do whatever he wanted with me. Do you want to know how much I was sold for?” When Keith didn’t respond she told him, “Fifty cents.”

  He tried to pull her to him. “Sit with me, Cynda.”

  “No, no.” Her hair was wild as she jumped around in front of him. “How does that make you feel, Keith? Knowing that you married a woman who is only worth fifty cents?”

  “No, baby. You’re worth far more. You are precious to me.”

  She sat down next to Keith, eyes distant. “I heard everything. They didn’t think I was listening, but I was at the top of the stairs when he sold me.” She looked at Keith. “I knew I was pregnant too. I was going to tell him, but when he did that, I vowed he would never have a chance to discard my child as he’d discarded me.”