Posts by Dee

Her Champion: Chapter 28

Posted on 15/08/2013

street

“I’m not ignoring you. I’m just not in the mood to talk to a jerk.” She pushed at the swing, focusing her attention on the spotted moon.

“I’m a jerk because I said something you didn’t want to hear?”

Tamar scoffed. “If you came out here to continue arguing, you can leave.”

He lifted both hands. “I’m just trying to figure out what makes me a jerk so I don’t make the mistake again.”

She placed one foot on the ground to slow down and turned to him with a frown. “You honestly have no idea what you did? Or are you trying to placate me?” Annoyed that he was just sitting there, Tamar pushed to her feet and walked a few feet away, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I made a guess but you got all snappy. Just trying to figure it out,” he reiterated casually as he pushed off the pole to follow her. “I don’t placate. We have a problem, we fix it. We’re not going to dance around each other and sugarcoat stuff. Say what you mean and mean what you say. So again, what’s the problem?”

Exasperated, Tamar threw a scowl at him over her shoulder. “Fine then.” She turned to face him. “My problem with you. Easy. You take on more than you should. You act like you can save the world and yet you’re drowning. You behave like you have the strength to do everything but you don’t. It pisses me off.” She swallowed hard, pressing her nails into her arms. “What good will all this be when you can no longer be there for Crystal… because you’ve worn yourself out trying to be Superman.” Blinking the tears away, she glared up at him. “How do you expect me to trust you when you can’t trust me?”

“Not more than I should. Maybe more than is comfortable, but not more than I should. She and my mom are my top priority. If making sure they’re taken care of means some extra work on my part then that’s what it’s gonna be. I can do this, Tamar. I’ve been doing it. I can and will be there for them until they don’t need me. There aren’t any other options. None of this is about not trusting you. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

Tamar shifted uncomfortably, wanting desperately to argue with him. His words spilled over, allowing her no room to question or challenge him.

“Do I want to talk about all the details?” Dylan forged on. “No, but it’s not because I don’t trust you. It’s because if I want to focus on the situation at all, I want to spend the time working out some other options not talking about how ‘unfair’ it is that I go head to head with Nick because for now Crystal has to stay there.”

Tamar shook her head. “I can’t and won’t accept that. I’m sorry but I won’t.” She clenched her jaw. “On top of championing your sister and mother, you’d want to add my issues to your plate? And then you get upset when I want to figure it out myself?” She pushed out a shaky breath. “If you’d rather figure out this problem with your father and Crystal on your own, don’t bother standing up for me in school. It’s the same principle, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t take up every second of every day. I have more than enough time to be there for you.” The more Dylan talked, the more he felt like he was losing his logic. “No, it’s not the same principle. You keep trying to come back to that and I already told you where I stand when it comes to that. It hasn’t changed. I don’t want you exposed to the violence. Nobody’s going to hurt me on campus.”

She eyed his features shrouded in the dark and heaved a deep sigh. “Talking to you is like I’m talking to a brick wall. You’re stubborn and impossible.” She walked around him, starting up the path toward the house. There was nothing she could do to get him to hear her out and the realization alone was enough to break her heart. Tears stung her eyes but she was able to keep it down, walking slowly to regain her composure.

Dylan grabbed her hand to stop her progress. “Stop walking away from me, Tamar. If there’s a problem, we fix it,” he reminded her.

Annoyed, Tamar wrenched her hand from his hold. “Stop saying that like it’s true. What are we fixing? You’re calling the shots and you want me to say ‘yes sir’ because you’re right? No, I won’t do it because you’re not right. Not by a long shot.”

“Then tell me where I’m wrong. Don’t write me off and walk away. That tells me you don’t think it’s worth it, you’re done with me. And if that’s where you’re at with it then say it now.”

Frustration frothed inside her as she spun around and glared at him. “Done with you? Can’t you see me? Can’t you hear me?” Tamar rushed toward him, seizing him by his shirt. “Look at me clearly and say that again. Can’t you see me standing here, begging you to let me help? That I’m not just some girl that giggles at your lame jokes and make your blood boil with my kisses and my touch. That I’m someone who loves you and wants to be there for you in every way? That I’m wanting to ease your pain and really help you?” Tears blocked her vision of him and disgusted with herself more than him, Tamar shoved at his chest and started to turn away. Choking against the sobs that rose in her throat, she glared up at him. “I really don’t like you right now. Seriously, you’re not my favorite person at this moment.”

He was reaching for her, pulling her into him even as most of her words faded until only one phrase began to echo in his head. I’m someone who loves you. Nothing else she said penetrated and honestly, none of the rest of it mattered. Dylan struggled with the pure depth of that word yet embraced hearing it from her. He couldn’t manage more than a rough whisper. “Tell me again, pretty girl.”

Even though she didn’t want to be anywhere near him, Tamar couldn’t stop herself from melting in his arms. She scowled. “Tell you what, you overgrown bully? Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

“That you love me. Say it again.”

Her resolve crumbled and she turned her face into his chest. “Oh Dylan, I do. I really really love you.” Her heart was beating so fast, she could barely catch her breath. “I hurt every time you do this to me but I can’t turn away from you. Even when you do this to me, it only makes me want you more. Love you more.”

He slipped his arms from around her to cup her face and tilt her head back. “It’s not to hurt you. It’s to protect you because I love you more than I ever let myself love anybody. That means something to me.”

Tamar’s face warmed at his confession, her entire body tingling. He loved her. She closed her eyes and leaned against him. “Can’t we compromise or something? Isn’t that what people who love each other do? Why can’t I protect the man I love just like you want to protect me?”

There was only one right answer but that didn’t make it any easier to give it. “I can give a few inches.”

She lifted her narrowed eyes to him. “As many inches as I’ll give you.”

“Don’t give too many inches then,” he teased.

Tamar only rolled her eyes and rested her head against his chest, fully spent.

“Is that an agreement?” He lowered his head to kiss the top of her head.

“I’ll need some convincing.” Her fingers trailed up to rest between her cheek and his chest.

“I think I can manage that but let’s get you back inside first.”

Sighing in protest, Tamar hooked an arm around his waist and let him lead her down the sidewalk toward the house. “We’ll figure it all out later. We don’t need to talk about it tonight.”

“You sure you wanna wait?” he asked wrapping his arm over her shoulders.

“There are other things to do besides talking.” Tamar smirked up at him, her heart skipping a beat at his handsome face under the moonlight. “I have the mind to take care of you and that’s what I’ll do. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“That so?” He stole a quick kiss. “Guess I’ll just have to go along with it then. I wouldn’t wanna ruin your plans.”

Tamar rolled her eyes as they walked up the stairs to the front door. “In a way, you almost did. It’s a good thing I’m a forgiving person.” She slipped away and scurried ahead of him to her bedroom. Thankfully, Crystal had returned to her room and the bowls were nowhere in sight. Walking to the bathroom, she pulled out a box from under the sink and walked back inside the room. Dylan was standing by the door and she smiled, patting the spot beside her on the bed. “Lie down.”

He sat down on the bed, carefully stretching out but eying the things she’d brought with her. “You said take care of me, not use me as practice for school work.”

She grinned mischievously and gestured to him. “Lie down.” Flipping the top of the case, she pulled out a clear vial. “Peppermint,” she said and pulled out another. “Or Rosemary?”

“Neither.” He caught the look on her face. “Peppermint. How would I explain walking around smelling like a flower?”

Tamar raised a brow, untwisting the bottle cap. “You’ll take a shower later. Besides, you’re sleeping with me, so only I’ll know you smell like a flower.” She eyed his shirt. “Take that off, please.”

“Bossy little thing. I kinda like it,” he admitted with a grin as he sat up and tugged his shirt over his head.

“Of course. . .” she paused to take a deep breath, holding back a cringe as she took in the dark spots marring his chiseled torso. Tamar bit her bottom lip, closing the vial. Her fingers moved to touch the splotched bruises scattered along his breastbone and she clucked her tongue. “Change of plans.” She stood and then hesitated, looking back down at him. Her eyes swept over his face and with a soft sigh, Tamar planted a kiss on his temple before turning away to the door. “I’ll get some ice for that.”

“I don’t need ice,” he argued half-heartedly, knowing she’d get some anyway. He wished he could’ve spared her from having to see the aftermath but all he could do was deal with it now.

Within a minute, she shuffled back into the room with an ice pack. Perching beside him, Tamar eyed his bare chest and shook her head solemnly, biting her tongue against what she really wanted to say. It wouldn’t help matters anyway. “This afternoon, I made pie and even lasagna to feed you. Then I was thinking we’d lay around and watch movies, and I’d give you a massage.” She tentatively pressed the ice pack on one of the bruises, her eyes steady on his face. “I’d planned to confess my feelings for you over ice-cream kisses and all, but this is okay too.” With her free hand, she held one of his up to her lips. “It’s bad timing but I love you, Dylan. And I’ll always be here for you.”

He sucked in a breath as the coldness penetrated his skin. “You gotta admit, this story will be more interesting for the kids.” His smile faded almost immediately once he looked into her eyes. “I love you too, pretty girl. Even if I don’t say it, it means somethin’ knowing I can count on you to be there.”

Her cheeks warmed at his husky confession and she laughed softly, lowering her gaze to his chest. It would take time before she’d get used to someone other than Bekah or her parents loving her. All the same, she was dancing for joy inside that Dylan cared so deeply for her. “In better circumstances, I’d compliment you on your physique. . . Hard work does pay off nicely, Sinatra.” She switched hands, moving the ice pack to another dark bruise.

“Hey, take it easy with that thing will you? And I don’t see why you can’t compliment me now. No need to hold back.”

Tamar laughed, easing the ice pack off his skin. “I already mentioned it. Don’t fish for compliments when you know already how attractive you are.”

“Never hurts to hear it again.” He settled into the bed, watching her through hooded eyes. “You’re really somethin’ else. You know that?”

Her fingers trailed along the length of his long torso, lips lifting in appreciation over his smooth, cool skin. “You like it,” she said, her voice low and teasing. Then her smile waned a little, gaze flickering to his. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“Nothing that won’t ease up in a few days. I’ll probably feel stiff. Need to work that out. You’re worryin’ again.”

<<Chapter 27 || Chapter 29>>

SSP 4: Finding Tevin

Posted on 10/08/2013

darkroom

The sound of erratic breathing, the rush of air pushing through parted lips and the stunted sprinting of feet down the pavement. Howling sirens echoed along the empty brick walls. He could hear his name being called, resounding in his heart and his ears in the midst of sirens blasting around him. His body trembled with the impending fear that he would be caught.

The evidence was clutched in his hands, a can of juice. Why did he have to touch it? It was obvious that he did not have enough change to purchase his favorite drink and meant to replace it back on the shelf when the cashier barked at him to stay still. The next minute, he heard the man speaking furiously on the phone for Officer Lee to come by the corner store and pick up a delinquent. Who was the delinquent? Him?

Before he could even think about being caught, the young boy whooshed out the door, shoving between two customers and with his long lanky legs, began sprinting down the streets of Cullen Ave like a mad man. He didn’t know why he ran instead of explaining himself but the vindictive glare of the cashier was enough to make even the most naive child flee, not that he wasn’t innocent.

So the young boy lifted his head to the sky and whispered a quick prayer that he would not have to be caught, his feet flying behind him and gasping for air. Tears streamed down his face with relief once he spotted the tall steeple of the faded yellow siding of the bungalow he once thought as a prison but now proved to be a temporary haven. Then he noticed a couple of flashing lights from a few cop cars parked in the driveway and blocking the streets, and staggered to a stop.

Shivering in trepidation at his awaited punishment from both the police officers and Mrs. Yancey, the boy stalled on the other side of the street, watching other cars drive past. He couldn’t return to the corner store, knowing that more police officers waited there.

“Hey boy!” a commanding voice barked from the other side of the street.

He jerked his widened eyes to see two police officers, their legs poised for the chase and the tips of their hats glaring with imminent authority. He was in trouble. The young boy gulped, still contemplating whether he should run. His feet shifted, a grating sound on the pavement to match the incessant and irregular beat of his heart. What should he do?

“Tevin! Yeh Officer, das him ova there.” a woman’s shrilling voice echoed down the street from the bungalow, causing a cold shiver down his scrawny bones. He didn’t have to look to know the woman was glaring threats on him, probably throwing expletives in her mind to him. “Boi, git ova here afor I smack yo behind all the way back to Tuesday!”

Her threats were the ignition he needed to spin on his heels and start running again. Except it was no good as the small boy crashed into the barreled-chest of another police officer who had crept behind him once distracted by his colleagues and the boy’s furious foster mother. It was over before he knew it.

 —

The resounding slam of metal sliding along metal defined his fate. Poor kid stared bleakly between the metal rods at the empty corridor, fingers trembling. This wasn’t where he should be at 11:57 at night. He missed his bed, missed the arguing on the other side of the paper-thin walls, the shoving and poking from his siblings.

He didn’t want this empty cell, his feet shivering inside his faded and worn slip-on shoes. There was no way he would sit on the cold stone floor while waiting for the police officers to condemn him to juvenile. He was too young, for goodness’ sake!

Barely celebrating nine years of life without seeing his real parents and forced to share even a sole banana-nut muffin purchased by Mrs. Yancey that same day, the young boy wanted to cry that everything in life was unfair.

Casting his eyes to the top stone ceiling of the claustrophobic cell, the young boy wrapped his long and slender fingers around the two thick rods. God, if you’re really up there like Mrs. Yancey says every night…. Do you hate me? Why won’t you help me? It was not a pleading prayer but rather one to see if the man upstairs even knew he existed. If he did, what kind of life was this?

Once the sound of another jail gate slammed close, the boy lowered his head desolately at the silence suffocating the entire jail despite the racking cough from another cellmate next door. Forcing his scrawny shoulders to remain still, the boy shifted away from the door and walked to the back wall of the jail, sliding to the floor. He masked his discomfort once the cold seeped through his thin hand-me-down faded jeans and leaned his head forward to catch some sleep. It seemed, from the quiet outside the corridor, that no one would come for him tonight.

 —

She kept coming everyday, sitting by the wall with her pale wrists crossed over the brown leather bag she propped on her lap. Her eyes were downcast, her brow furrowed in deep thought but she managed to lift her head whenever the metal doors slid open. Her hazel eyes would light up momentarily but once she noticed it was just another police officer, dragging an older man in and out from the corridor, she would sigh heavily and look down again.

Some of the police officers had their theories of who she was. The woman, probably in her early-thirties, always showed up nine in the morning, trudging into the police station and leaning on her wooden-carved cane with a gnarled hook. She didn’t say anything to any of the police officers, merely glancing at the empty corridor with sad, resigned eyes before perching on a seat by the wall. Watching her move around was painful for some of the discrete onlookers. Most knew that under that long, printed skirt she wore was a twisted leg from the knee down. No one understood why she came and no one dared to ask. They simply just watched her warily and quietly, waiting.

Another temporary resident of the South East Patrol on Mykawa St was also waiting and losing sleep while doing so. A week and a half had already passed and no shadow of Mrs. Yancey or anyone from his house had graced the step of the jail cell. Every time he heard shuffling feet or the sound of rustling keys, he would look up with hopeful eyes and slowly lower them down when it was only another cellmate or a police officer bringing him something to snack on. The piteous looks they gave him only made him more sure that no one was coming for him, no matter how many times he lifted a whisper to the ceiling or wished upon a star he could only imagine was gracing the darkened sky outside.

So on another dark cold night, just after he’d finished another packet of Austin Peanut and Wheat crackers, the boy lifted his knees to his chest and propped his forehead on them to sleep. This time, when the rustling keys and shuffling feet sounded off, he didn’t lift his head to see who was moving in. Still, his heart stirred when the footsteps paused in front of his cell and he held his breath. The keys clinked against the rods of his jail cell and too curious, he shifted his head sideways and peeked from one narrowed eye. Both widened instantly when he saw the same officer, Officer Menjivar, who gave him the snack staring at him with a gentle smile. The boy blinked silently, not knowing what to think or how to react. Was it time to have his bathroom break?

“Time to go home, kid,” the middle-aged Hispanic officer with narrow shoulders and a pouch said kindly, turning the key into the gate port and pushed open the door.

Flabbergasted, the boy remained seated and gaped up at the man, his body frozen.

Officer Menjivar chuckled and stepped into the jail cell. “Your legs not any good, mijo?” he extended a hand to him.

Meekly, the boy lifted his hand and placed it in the officer’s rough one. Holding his breath, he found himself being tugged up like a sack of sand and he staggered to his feet.

Chortling still, the police officer patted the boy on his back but jerked his hand back when he felt the boy’s icy and thin shoulders. His brow furrowed and he averted his eyes immediately. He cleared his throat and walked back to the exit. But when he didn’t hear footsteps behind him, the man glanced over his shoulder and cocked an inquisitive brow at the hesitating fellow still standing in the middle of the cell. “Well, what are you waiting for? C’mon.”

Unsure if this was the same reoccurring dream he’d had since he was first placed in the empty jail, the boy shifted back inside. “W-where am I going?” he’d heard the taunting from his neighbors that the local juvenile center was much scary and daunting than this lonely cell. If that was true, he’d rather stay here since the officers treated him pretty well, considering.

Officer Menjivar blinked at him, not sure why he shivered involuntarily at the anxiety coating the boy’s hazel eyes. He managed a smile because he had no other way to comfort the kid. “Hey listen, there’s someone here to take you home.”

The boy swallowed hard, his eyes still widened in trepidation. Was it Mrs. Yancey? He shook his head slowly without thinking and stepped back toward the cell again, already imagining the torturous punishment that awaited him at the house.

“Kid, relax… You’ll be fine.” Officer Menjivar stepped forward and extended a hand again. “I promise.” He masked a wince when the adolescent blinked again at him. It seemed these kind of kids who were shoved like sardines in foster homes heard that cursed word for many years and grown immune to the consequences of trusting someone who used it freely. “Just come out and see. If you don’t want, we’ll take care of it, entiendes?”

Eyes pleading with the officer to not fail him, the boy finally walked toward him without looking to his left or right. Again Menjivar held back a shiver with the urgent plea echoed in the boy’s eyes but kept his gaze on the boy for as long as he could before the boy himself looked down. It was enough for the seasoned officer and he cleared his throat, shifting around to open the door.

The boy blinked rapidly at the change of lighting and the sounds of chattering and phones ringing on the other side of the door. His cheeks warmed with gratitude and utter relief. He was leaving this prison. But he stiffened again, realizing that this next step would determine his future. What was awaiting on the other side of this door and would he be able to handle it?

“C’mon,” Officer Menjivar probed his thoughts and the boy glanced up at the gentle-eyed man. He stepped aside, the security of his narrow shoulders absent for a moment as the boy shuffled out of the corridor. Amid the chaotic noise of phones and voices outside, there was a moment of silence in the office once the other enforcement agents paused to greet their newcomer silently. One woman sitting on the corner of the office, now stood slowly and leaned on her gnarled cane, her eyes affixed on the young slender light-skinned boy standing by the stout officer. She blinked back the tears that ensued, the corner of her lips twitching to hold back a grateful smile. He was here.

The boy’s keen eyes scanned the room warily, already expecting a disappointment. He noticed the amused expressions of some of the officers who had wrestled him to the cold and rough pavement outside his foster home. Shifting his gaze to the other side of the room, he blinked in confusion at the strange look on the woman’s face. She was slender and small yet her frumpy clothes hid her bowed shoulders. Her reddish-brown hair curled and swept over her forehead, almost hiding the heavy stare that was directed on his face. The way she stared at him was what left him speechless and confused. Was that who was here for him? Why?

As if hearing his thoughts, Officer Menjivar turned slowly to the boy and smiled gently. “Mijo, I want you to meet someone…” He glanced over at the woman and nodded, then he placed a hand on the boy’s shoulders and gently pushed him toward the woman who tried to shuffle forward despite her discomfort. “Madam, this is Tevin Gosley.”

Without permission, his heart stirred again and the boy held his breath. This woman’s gaze seemed familiar, almost like Officer Menjivar’s except that her eyes were filling up with tears at the corners. Why was she crying? His fingers curled inward into fists, anticipating a scorn or twisting of her lips to blame him for something he wasn’t aware he did.

Then the woman sniffed, pausing his rampant thoughts and forcing him to peer up at her. She blinked and two lone tears slid slowly down her plump, heart-shaped face. Leaning one hand on her cane, she extended a small, frail and pale hand out to him. “Hello…” she said, her lips trembling to form a sound. Another sniff from her pert freckled nose. “My name is Mrs. Ida Warren.”