At the Crossroads (14 page)

He heard a familiar voice yell at the boys as they laughed and ran off. Franky slowly removed his hands from his head and tried to get his mind right. He slowly pulled himself to an upright position. He was dizzy and had troublebalancing himself even while sitting down. He looked to his left, then his right, searching for Khadija, but instead of seeing his girlfriend, he stared straight into the eyes of the midget, Shorty.

“Good Lord, young blood,” Shorty said, holding a gun that was almost as big as he was. “Somebody’s mighty mad at you.”

Franky grimaced in pain. His head was throbbing, and he instinctively reached up to massage his temples. His lip was leaking blood like a faucet, and his mind went back to when someone’s boot connected with his mouth. He could feel his right eye closing and swelling. He rolled over onto his knees and tried to get to his feet. He had to find Khadija. Where was she? He adjusted his head so that he could see better, because the vision in his right eye was already gone due to the swelling. While he was down on his hands and knees, he looked up and saw some boys running away. He zeroed in on their backs, trying desperately to make out something about them that he could use later to identify them and settle the score. All he could see were their backs, but then one of them stopped and turned around. He stared at Franky, threw his fingers up in the peace sign, then turned his hand upside down, the symbol kids used to represent the
A
for “Atlanta.” The boy, whom Franky had never seen before, smiled, then turned his hand upright and gave Franky the finger. Franky’s anger got the best of him, and he tried to stand but his body wasn’t ready for that. He slumped back down on the ground and took a few deep breaths to stabilize himself. Once he could halfway think straight, he looked around for Khadija. The insides of his Levi’s pockets were inside out, and his shell-toe Adidas were gone.

Franky found himself sitting on the sidewalk in a woozy haze. He was robbed, beaten, shoeless, and unable to locate his girlfriend. For the first time in his life, he knew what it felt like to want to kill another human being.

“I sure hate to let this thing off unless I really need to, but I’m too old to be fighting with them young boys,” Shorty said. “You need me to help you up, young blood?”

How are you gonna help me up, Shorty? I’m sitting down, and I’m still taller than you,
Franky thought.

“Where’s Khadija?” Franky said, rolling onto his knees again as blood squirted from his nose and mouth.

“Oh, Lord,” Shorty said, running away from Franky and over to a lone figure lying on the ground by a trash can.

Franky saw her. He found the strength to get up, and he staggered over to her. He looked down, and his rage, which was already at an extremely unhealthy level, went off the charts.

“No,” he said, looking down at his girl, who was lying facedown on the pavement in her own blood. She wasn’t moving, and that sent him into major panic mode.

“Khadija,” he said as he dropped down on his knees beside her. He started shaking her while calling her name.

“Don’t move her,” Shorty said, as if he had some medical training. “Gimme that cell phone.”

Franky reached over and slid the iPhone from Khadija’s workout armband. He handed it to Shorty.

“What the …,” Shorty said. “Where the numbers at?”

Franky took the phone from him and promptly dialed 911.

“That’s a crying shame,” Shorty said, shaking his huge head. “These young boys done lost whatever minds they had. I couldn’t understand them whipping up on you—you a man. But this a lady. In my day, a man didn’t put his hands on a lady.”

Franky gave the 911 operator the information about the assault and the location. All the while, Khadija still hadn’t moved. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing, but that was all.

“Doggone cowards,” Shorty said, frowning up. “I shoulda shot ‘em all. In my day, a man fought another man straight up. If you lost, you just lost. So what. You kept it moving, but not now. Nowadays you got cowards who are too scared to take a whipping. They run and get a gun or come in packs. Three fools on one man and then they had the nerve to hit a girl. I don’t know what this world is coming to.”

Franky wasn’t listening to Shorty’s rant. He was holding on to his girlfriend’s hand and praying that she would be okay. With his free hand, he scrolled through Khadija’s phone until he came to MOM. He pressed the CALL button, and Mrs. Davis answered.

“Mrs. Davis,” he said through his tears. “This is Franky. Khadija’s hurt. Somebody jumped us when we got off the bus.”

“Hurt,” Mrs. Davis said. “Where is she? What kind of hurt? What do you mean she’s hurt? Put her on the phone.”

“She’s not moving,” Franky said, and the mere fact that he said that sent a shock through his entire body. “She’s just lying here.”

“Noooooooooo!” Mrs. Davis screamed.

“We called the ambulance already. They are on their way.”

“Where are you?”

Franky told the distraught woman their location.

“I’m on my way,” she said, and hung up.

Franky rubbed his girl’s hand to comfort her while they waited for the paramedics to arrive. His mind was calming down and his pain no longer mattered. The only thing that was on his mind was finding out who was responsible for this and making them pay.

F
ranky sat alone staring at the ambulance as the big square truck drove his girl and her mother away. He had refused any medical attention for fear that Children’s Services would come in and start asking questions. He felt like he would be okay anyway. His wounds were all on the surface, and he didn’t think he had any broken bones that would require a doctor’s attention.

After the taillights of the ambulance disappeared out of his view, he walked home.

“Where ya been, whoadie?” Nigel asked while lying on the sofa reading a magazine. “Hanging out with that gurl, huh? Yeah, she got ya nose open.”

Franky didn’t respond. Anger had a death grip on him and wouldn’t let go. He was so concerned with Khadija that his heart was pounding a million beats per second. She regained consciousness after the paramedics showed up but had complained of a severe headache. There was a large knot on her forehead and a scuff mark on her cheek.

She kept calling his name, but Mrs. Davis made her be quiet.

Nigel lowered the magazine when he didn’t get a response. He stared at his cousin and almost leaped from the sofa.

“What the …,” he said, tossing the magazine aside. “What happened to you?”

Franky looked at his cousin and his only response was a blank stare. He had never felt this way—violated, used, and mistreated. As he stared at Nigel, he thought about how people treated him. They showed him respect because he showed them kindness that was backed by the threat of violence. People were flat out afraid of Rico simply because of the level of violence that he was willing to bring their way. But what about him? Why was he feeling the disrespect of his peers? Why did he have to act like an uncivilized beast just to have some peace? He never did anything to anyone. As a matter of fact, the only thing he ever tried to do was help people; yet here he stood beaten like a runaway slave. But even worse than that was the disrespect they showed him by attacking his girlfriend. Things had to change, and he knew exactly how he was going to change them. On his walk home, he had plenty of time to think about his revenge, and he planned on serving it hotter than a New Orleans summer.

“I’m talking to you, whoadie,” Nigel said, walking closer to his cousin. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Franky said, and walked to his bedroom.

“Where ya shoes at, man?” Nigel asked with a pained expression on his face as if he could feel Franky’s wounds.

Franky didn’t respond. He walked into his room and sat on the side of the bed. He wanted to cry, but what goodwould that do? Would crying make Khadija okay? Would it heal his scars? Would it take that disdainful look off of Mrs. Davis’s face when she stood on the back of the ambulance and barked, “I think it’s time that you kept your distance from my daughter.”

“Franky,” Nigel said from the doorway. “I need to know what happened to you, man. Were you jumped, robbed? Come on, whoadie. Talk to me.”

“I’m a’ight,” Franky said as he lay down on his bed. “I just fell.”

“Fell down and lost your shoes, too?” Nigel said. “Come on, whoadie. I was born at night but not last night. Tell me what happened. You know I’ma find out anyway.”

“I’m okay,” Franky said, refusing to give up any information. He was tired of his cousins handling things for him while he played the good suburban kid. The days in Jefferson Parish were gone. He didn’t have a country club membership, or a pool out back. He was no longer that person. He was in the hood where only the strong survived. He had held on to the person he once was for as long as he could, but times had changed and it was about time that he changed with them.

Nigel stood there staring at his cousin. He must’ve read Franky’s mind, because all he did was nod and step away from the bedroom door.

“I’ll get you some ice for that eye,” Nigel said from the hallway.

Franky felt something in his back pocket. He reached back and felt Khadija’s cell phone.

“Dag it,” he snapped at himself. “Now how am I gonna call her?”

He sat up and pressed a button, and the device came tolife. A picture of the two of them flashed on the screen. He flipped his fingers around the touch screen, and different pictures popped up. She had lots of photos of him that he never even knew she had. She had taken all kinds of random shots. There were pictures of him studying, walking down the hallway, and talking to his teachers. She even had one of him sleeping with his mouth open.

Franky flipped over to her text messages. He didn’t want to be nosy or untrusting because that wasn’t the case. He just wanted to feel connected to her. There were a bunch of text messages between the two of them, and since he already knew what they said, he skipped around until he found one from her best friend, D’Asia. Franky hadn’t met Khadija’s BFF yet because she attended another school, but he had talked to her on the phone a few times and they were cool.

D’Asia: Let me guess, you’re with Franky.

Khadija: How did you know? LOL

D’Asia: Don’t tell me my girl is in love.

Khadija: Okay. I won’t say nuttin’ then.

D’Asia: LOL. I can’t wait to meet him.

Khadija: I can’t get enuf of that N.O. slang.

D’Asia: You sprung. Can’t believe u wit a M&M dude.

Khadija: He’s not an M&M dude. He’s different. No thug but I feel safe with him.

Franky clicked the screen off. She wasn’t safe with him. He had failed to protect her, and that made him feel like a punk. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down.

“Hi, son.”

Franky jerked his head toward the door. He jumped upbut couldn’t move. Just as clear as Nigel had been standing in the doorway a few minutes ago, his father stood there now.

Franklin Bourgeois Sr. smiled at his son.
“How are you doing?”

Franky couldn’t take his eyes off his dad, yet he couldn’t move toward him. He tried to lift his arms, but he couldn’t do that either.

His dad looked exactly as he had three years ago. He wore a baby-blue dress shirt without the tie, shiny silver cuff links, a pair of nicely creased dress slacks, and some of the shiniest shoes in the world. They were glowing.

“My, you have grown so much. I’ve been watching you, but I wasn’t expecting this. I know life has been very different for you, but I prepared you for this. You can handle this. This life you’re living is only temporary. Life down here is about choices, and I want you to know that your mother and I weren’t too happy about your choice not to go to school all that time. But we are both happy that you are back and seem to have not missed a beat. I’m over it. I can’t tell you how much I miss being around you, buddy. But we’ll be together again. Your mother is great, and we still have the best time together. There are lots of our family members around. Your grandmother, Rosa, is still fussing and cooking for everyone that she sees. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Dad, can you hear me?” Franky said.

“Of course I can hear you. I can see you, too.”

“Why can’t I move?”

Franky Sr. smiled but didn’t answer his son. Instead he continued talking.
“Life is hard down here and even harder for a teen. I can’t tell you how proud I am of Nigelfor taking care of you. Nigel has been a grown man about this whole ordeal.”

“Believe it or not, Rico has helped a lot, too.”

“I’m not familiar with that name. Who is Rico?”

“My cousin, your nephew,” Franky said. “Rico.”

“Not sure who you’re talking about, but listen. I don’t have much time.”

“Why haven’t you come to see me before?”

“Well, it’s complicated. You have no idea what I had to go through to get here now, but that’s too long of a story. You need to hear from me. Now is a very critical time in your life, son. Choices, choices, choices. You have to make good ones, because bad ones will forever alter your life. You cannot respond to the boys who jumped you. Move on. Leave it alone. Now, I understand where you live and the rules that you live by, but you have to think. You’ve plotted to do some things that will get you sent to prison, Franky. And why? Because you’re upset and hurt. The guys who did this are lost little boys who are projecting their hurt onto others.”

“So what should I do?”

“You have to make that decision on your own. But don’t go with your first choice. If you do, I won’t ever be able to see you again, and all of my thoughts and memories of you will go away. You will cross over. So you are at the crossroads.”

“What is that?”

Franky heard the front door open, and he turned his head for a second. When he turned back, his father had disappeared. He sat up on the side of the bed and stomped his foot in anger. His heart was racing, and he replayed the conversation he had just had. He couldn’t stoplooking around for his father, but he was nowhere to be found.