Chapter 40 – December 14, 1988: Part II
I look at Colin, but speak into the phone. “You sent me the obituary?”
“Yeah, good for you for figuring this out. You must be as smart as me. What did you score on your SAT?”
“Uh, 1400.”
“How many times did you take it?”
“Just once.”
“Wow, good for you. Why didn’t you go somewhere besides BSU?”
I furrow my brow. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”
**
I admit I’m a little hurt by her question. Is it that she doesn’t know the difference between me and my sister, or does she just not know who I am? I consider being coy, but people find that annoying.
“I’m Eva. My mother, Simone, and my twin, Naomi, aren’t here right now because they are at work and school, respectively. I told Mom I was sick, which is why I am home, but I am not sick.”
“How old are you?” she asks me, and again I’m hurt. Maybe it’s not her fault though; the obituary listed our names but not our ages.
“I will turn eighteen years old in forty-six days.”
“Are you still in high school?”
“Yes, I will graduate in May… Just like you.”
**
Confused, I smooth the quilt over my legs and furrow my brow as Colin squeezes my fingers. “How do you know that?”
“I know a lot about you. I’m not great with names though. I know you had a best friend growing up, some White girl with blond hair. And I know you married the Black guy with the nearly-shaved head. And that you adopted your daughter.”
Even more confused, I rub my eyes. “And how do you know all that?”
**
Okay, so I should be prepared for that question; I should have a good answer. But sometimes I make mistakes, as we all do, and I didn’t prepare, and now I don’t know how much to tell her.
Do I tell her that I kept track of her because she’s my sister, and I love her? That’s pretty much true.
Or do I tell her I became wrapped up in something accidentally and then couldn’t walk away? That’s also pretty much true.
But if I tell her the second one, she’ll ask more questions, and I don’t have the answers for those. But also, I don’t want to lie to my sister, now that she’s reached out; that doesn’t seem like a good way to start a relationship.
“Well, for one, you’re my sister, my big sister actually, and I want to know about you and your life.”
“And for two?” I hear her ask.
“And for two, sometimes I’m paid for information.”
“Paid by whom?” Her voice is sharp, and I can tell she’s becoming angry.
“The answer to that is really complicated,” I say, and that’s pretty much true too.
**
I take a deep breath and a calculated risk. “Do you know Pete Lassio?”
“Of course.”
“What about his father?”
“Yes, but I’ve never met him. He’s a bad man.”
“Tillerman?”
“Never heard of him.”
“Daly?”
“Hmm. I’m not sure. Like I said, I’m not good with names. What does he look like or do for a living?”
“He was a cop.”
“Oh, right, older Black guy with the goatee. Yeah, I know of him, but I’ve never met him. Talked to him on the phone a couple of times.”
I bite my lip. “Gene Lorez?”
**
Again, I should have known that she would ask. Once she asked about Pete and Daly, it was only a matter of time. Four seconds of time to be exact.
I play with my hair. “Yes.”
“Ever met him in-person?”
“Yes.”
“More than once?”
“Yes.”
“Wait,” she says, and I can hear the confusion mixed with the wheels turning while she’s struggling to figure it out. She will, eventually; she’s smart.
“You play chess, right?” I don’t mean to change the subject; it just came to my mind, and now I’m confirming.
“Yes.”
Her turn for one word answers, I suppose. I deserve that.
“Does Lorez pay you for information about me?” she asks.
“Yes, but only half of it is his money.”
“What do you mean?”
I furrow my brow. “Wait, do you not know about all of that yet?”
“About all of what?”
I sigh. “Doing this over the phone will be a nightmare. It would be better if you figured it out for yourself.”
**
“Figured out what?” I ask, becoming more annoyed with each answer.
“Do you have a pen and paper?”
“Yes.”
“Go to the library and find or request the following books and newspapers. You may have to ask for microfiche or loans. I’ll give you exact dates, titles, and page numbers. Ready?”
For nearly five minutes, I write dates and words on note cards, handing each to Colin. “Why do I need to research all of this?”
“Trust me on this; it’ll make sense once you piece it together. When you understand the basics, or at least think you do, call me back. You do deserve answers, Ra'Shelle.”
“You said you knew Pete, right?”
“Yes.”
“He tried to kill me last night.”
**
I inhale sharply. Of all the things I thought Pete might do, that never crossed my mind. How could he possibly do that? He has no reason to want to hurt Ra'Shelle–especially Ra’Shelle.
“I’m so sorry, Ra'Shelle. Did he give you a reason?”
“Something about his mother.”
I sigh. “Of course it was about his mother. You should try to forgive him, Ra'Shelle; he’s just a damaged guy.”
“How well do you know him?”
That’s not a good question. “Well enough. Listen,” I start before she can ask more questions, “Dad was a good guy. He made mistakes for sure, but he meant well. If anyone has told you otherwise, they’re lying. And if your mom hadn’t become addicted to crack, I think they’d still be together. He loved her, and he really loved you. Don’t believe anything else.”
There is a long silence before she speaks again. “How did he die?”
I rub my face, but at least I know my answer for this one. “Do you think the world would be better if Medgar Evers was still alive?”
I can tell she’s debating whether to answer the question or impatiently ask for a better response. “Yes,” she finally replies.
“Me too. He was just a guy trying to make the world a little better, and he was murdered in his own driveway.”
I sigh. “Our father meant well, Ra’Shelle. He made a bad decision for a good reason, and it cost him his life and our childhoods.”
“Did you know about the bank account?”
I’m tired, and I just want to finish this conversation, so I can go back to studying. It’s too emotionally draining for me to take much longer. “The one Dad set up for you? Yes, he told Mom about it.”
“Does the number 642 mean anything to you?”
I catch my breath. “Wh–Why?”
There’s a silence, and I know she’s debating whether to be honest. “Just curious.”
Okay, so she chose to hide the truth. I can’t really blame her, considering. “Listen, just look up those things I told you, but also, be careful. Has anyone told you to let this go?”
“Yes.”
“Did they say ‘let it die’?”
I can hear a soft groan. “Yes.”
“They said that to Dad a few times too. Look, Ra'Shelle, there are cruel people in the world. People who do terrible things out of greed; people who do terrible things because they’ve justified that it’s okay. And if you go down this road, you’ll find a mix of both. But at least you’ll finally have some answers.”
“When can I talk to you again?”
I shrug as if she can see me. “When you figure things out and have questions. Call anytime; Mom won’t care. She’s always felt bad that you didn’t live with us in the first place. So call whenever, but don’t show up. No one should know that you contacted me. Understand?”
“You’re very mature for seventeen.”
I almost laugh. “I didn’t have a choice. You understand that; you didn’t have a choice either.” I shake my head, trying to clear the emotions. “Bye, Ra'Shelle.”
The time is 9:24, an okay number.
**
“Bye, Eva. Talk soon.”
I return the phone and note cards to the nightstand and rub my face. “Colin, I think I just made a terrible mistake, but I’m going to have to see it through anyway.”