20

“Miss Katia,” a voice called out to me. “Miss Katia. Miss Katia.”

I sat straight up in the bed, looking around frantically. For a moment, I forgot where I was, and then I realized I was at

the group home. I’d slept in one of the unoccupied rooms. The bed was full-size but not as comfortable as my bed at home.

“Yes,” I said as I clicked on the light. “Who is it?”

“It’s Mrs. Grambling.”

“Come in,” I said, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

The door slowly opened. Mrs. Grambling, one of my longest-serving houseparents, walked inside. She was wearing a robe and

a headscarf covering all of her pin curlers. I glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning. Regardless of the reason she

was waking me this early, it couldn’t be good.

“What’s wrong, Mrs. Grambling?” I stood up.

“I’m sorry to bother you. We got a phone call.” When I saw her wiping away tears, I braced myself. I was wide awake.

“What happened?”

“Chad’s been shot,” she blurted out.

“Who told you this? Who called?” I needed facts—now.

“Police called. He’s at the hospital in Tuskegee. Miss Katia, they don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

“What else did they tell you?” I ignored the part about him possibly not making it. I couldn’t process that information, so

I kept myself in executive director mode. I hurried to my suitcase and took out the clothes I’d packed for later that day.

“Not much,” she said. Mrs. Grambling began making up my bed. I didn’t stop her, because I knew she was nervous, and like me,

she coped by keeping busy. “The policeman said Chad has several gunshot wounds, and a couple of them are life-threatening.

He said Chad will need surgery.”

“I’m going to Tuskegee,” I said. I started taking off my pajamas. If this made Mrs. Grambling uncomfortable, she didn’t let

on. I didn’t have time for modesty. I needed to get to Chad. I slipped on the gray skirt and matching sweater I’d packed.

“For now, don’t mention this to the other boys. Especially Pee Wee. Wait until I’m able to find out more.”

“You don’t need to go alone,” she said, sounding exactly like Mama. “Let me get Mr. Grambling so he can go with you.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “I need you and Mr. Grambling here, and the other staff will need to be on hand in case...”

“I’m so sorry, Miss Katia. That boy means a lot to all of us, but I know he was special to you.”

I rubbed her arm. “Don’t give up on him. I don’t care what the police said. Chad is strong. We’re not counting him out. I need you to pray like you have never prayed before.”

“I ain’t stopped praying since I heard the news, and I won’t stop until we get that baby home,” she said. “I’ll leave out

and let you finish dressing.”

After Mrs. Grambling left the bedroom, I took several deep breaths. This wasn’t the time for me to break down. I thought about

Mama. She’d want to know what happened, but since I didn’t really know myself, I decided I’d call her once she’d awakened

to start her day later. Also, Mama would want to come or try to send Marcus with me. Neither one of them was emotionally well

enough to sit in a hospital right now, especially with all of the uncertainty concerning Aaron. Mama would just have to fuss

at me later about driving to Tuskegee by myself in the middle of the night.

Once I was ready, I threw some folders that needed my attention into my briefcase, as well as the book I was reading, Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison. I then put on my coat and hurried outside to my truck. I barely noticed the cold.

I believed that if I could get to the hospital and let Chad know he wasn’t alone, everything would be alright. Tuskegee was

only a little over an hour drive from Troy, but it felt like I was trying to reach the other side of the world.

The drive there was dark and ominous, on nothing but unwieldy backcountry roads. Between the curves and the potential for deer to dart into the road, I had to drive slower than normal. I tried to convince myself there was nothing to worry about, but when I finally arrived at John A. Andrew Memorial Hospital, I had to stifle the sobs threatening to overwhelm me. All I could hear over and over inside my head was: “They don’t know if he’s going to make it. They don’t know if he’s going to make it. They don’t know if he’s going to make

it.”

Then my thoughts drifted back to the conversation from a few days ago, when Chad and Pee Wee begged me to take them in. How

I wish I could have done just that. Chad wouldn’t be lying in a hospital, fighting for his life. I allowed the tears to flow

but got out of the truck and hurried inside.

Even though it wasn’t quite four in the morning, the hospital was already bustling with activity. There was something reassuring

about seeing Negro nurses and doctors in their element. The white hospitals did accept Negro patients, but we all knew we

were better off with our own kind, even if Negro hospitals didn’t have the latest and greatest equipment. Because the staff

saw in us their aunties, cousins, siblings, nieces, and nephews, they went above and beyond to provide us with a healing environment.

I rushed to the front desk and explained to the young-looking Negro woman who I was and who I was here to see.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said with a gentle smile. “Chadwick Montgomery is in surgery right now. You are welcome to wait in the room

over there to your left.”

“Can you or someone explain to me what his injuries are?” I asked, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. I’d prayed that

I’d arrive before they took him to surgery—so I could hug him and tell him, “I’m here, and I won’t leave you alone.” I needed

answers. I needed to know what we were up against.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer your questions, ma’am, but I’ll get the nurse who was seeing after Chad to come and talk to you.”

I thanked her and went to the waiting room. Four other people were waiting. One was an older couple. The woman was crying

softly, and the man was rubbing her back. On the other side of the room sat a very pregnant woman with a toddler on her lap.

Before long a nurse entered the room. Those waiting sat up expectantly and were clearly disappointed when she approached me.

The nurse looked like a baby. Either I was feeling especially old right now, or all of these medical professionals looked

like they were fresh out of high school. I motioned for her to follow me into the hallway. I didn’t want anyone overhearing

the conversation.

“Good morning, ma’am,” she said in a soft but firm voice. “I was told you had questions about Chadwick.”

“Yes,” I said. “Thank you for coming to speak to me. Please, tell me what you know.”

What she knew was grim. Chad had sustained a gunshot wound to his chest that narrowly missed his heart. But the worst news

was that he was also shot in his neck and spinal cord. He was paralyzed from the waist down, and she didn’t sound confident

that the surgery would restore his movement.

“How long do they think he’ll be in surgery?” I asked.

“This could take several hours,” she said. “I’ll be in contact with the doctor, so if I receive any news, I’ll let you know.”

I just nodded. I didn’t know what else to say. I went back into the waiting room, sat down, and pulled my book out of my briefcase. I hadn’t started it yet, but my eye was drawn to one of its lines: “I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me.” I put my hand to my mouth to stifle the cry welling up inside me. That line perfectly described my boys at the group home

and how the world treated them, but especially my wounded, big little boy, Chad. Beating up on myself wouldn’t fix anything,

but, my God, how I wish I could have done more.

“You okay, honey?” the older Negro woman asked, easing down in the seat beside me. She had a gentle look on her face. Somehow

she had climbed outside of her own grief to come and see about me.

I almost lied and told her I was fine, but I couldn’t tell an untruth to those knowing eyes, so I just shook my head as the

tears continued to fall.

“It’s okay, honey,” she said, putting her arm around me. She was small in stature, but her embrace felt strong and protective.

“This room is filled with suffering and heartache, but it’s also filled with God and love. I’m going to pray for you and for

that young woman over there with the baby on her lap. I’m going to ask God to protect our loved ones and protect us too.”

“Thank you,” was all I could say.

She patted my arm one more time; then she walked over to the pregnant woman and sat down beside her. She held her hands out

for the toddler, who went to her without reservation. Soon she and the young mother were deep in conversation. Mama always

said God sends you an angel when you’re feeling most alone. I got the feeling that this older Negro woman was exactly who

Mama was talking about.

I looked down at my watch. It was almost four thirty. Mama wasn’t a morning person, but when I wasn’t at home, she slept with one eye open. I decided to go call her. I needed to hear my mother’s voice. I needed her to tell me that Chad would live and walk again.

I’d noticed a pay phone near the front door of the hospital. I put on my coat and stuffed my book back into my briefcase.

As I exited the hospital, the cold air caused me to catch my breath. I pulled my scarf around my neck. I entered the phone

booth, which wasn’t roomy at all. My hips were touching each side.

“They sure know how to make a girl feel ginormous,” I muttered. I dialed the operator and told her I needed to make a person-to-person

call from Katia Daniels to Mrs. Heloise Daniels. I waited while the operator dialed the number. Mama came on the line, sounding

wide awake and panicked.

“Where are you, Katia?” Mama demanded, her voice trembling. I filled her in on the details.

“You shouldn’t have driven all the way to Tuskegee by yourself in the middle of the night. Anything could have happened to

you, Katia, and then what good would you be to anyone, but especially those boys you look after?” she fussed.

“I just... I...” My voice cracked. I heard Mama draw in her breath.

“It’s alright, baby,” she said. Mama’s soothing voice felt so good to my ears. It was cold outside, but I focused on the warmth

of her voice. “I’m so sorry, Katia. I know you’re worried sick. Chad is a strong young boy and if anyone can beat this, he

can. He and Pee Wee will be running and playing again before you know it.”

Mama then began to pray, and I listened, my head bowed. At this moment, God seemed to be more of a taker than a giver. Since I couldn’t find anything to say that I believed God would care to hear, I stayed silent and allowed my mother’s fervent prayers to hopefully find their way to what felt like God’s normally deaf ears. When she finished, I whispered, “Amen.”

“I’d better go back inside, Mama,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”

When I reentered the waiting room, the elderly woman and man were gone. For a moment, I questioned whether they’d ever been

there, suddenly wondering if an angel had visited me. But when I asked the young pregnant woman about them, she said their

grandson came out of surgery and they went to see him.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Do you need anything?”

“No, ma’am,” she said. “I’m just waiting to find out some news about my son’s daddy. He got mixed up in some mess tonight.

The crazy lady he been cheating on me with shot him. Some would say serves him right, but I love him and this boy needs his

daddy.”

I didn’t have time to respond because a very tired-looking doctor came into the room. From the look on his face, the news wasn’t good. Instinctively, I reached for the young woman’s hand. She couldn’t be much older than twenty. I could easily be her mother and this toddler and unborn baby’s grandmother. We looked at each other with fear in our eyes, not knowing who the doctor was there to see. He sat on the other side of the girl. She started to wail before he could open his mouth. I put my arm around her while patting the back of the toddler, who was now screaming at the top of his lungs. A nurse hurried into the room, took the baby, and sat on the other side of the doctor, bouncing the boy on her lap. Within seconds, he stopped crying and began cooing.

“Are you her mother?” he asked, looking at me sympathetically.

I shook my head. “Just another person waiting for news.” I squeezed her shoulders. “Let the doctor talk to you.”

She nodded, seeming grateful for my presence.

“I’m afraid the wounds were too extensive. He made it through the first hour of surgery, but he lost too much blood,” the

doctor said. “Is there anyone we can call to come and be with you?”

“He ain’t got a lot of people in his life ’sides me and that boy over there, and this baby in my belly. His mama ain’t got

no car,” the girl whispered hoarsely. “I can’t believe this. Cobra dead?”

I got lightheaded when she said the name Cobra, but I strained to stay focused.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” the doctor asked as he eyed me with concern.

“I’m fine.” I sat up straighter in the chair, continuing to hold the young woman’s hand. Being other people’s support was

the one job in life I excelled at.

The doctor continued to look at me until I smiled and said, “I’m okay.”

“Ma’am, I hate to have to ask such probing questions, but were you and Leonard Parker married?” he asked.

“Who that?” She looked confused. I figured she didn’t know that Leonard Parker was Cobra’s given name.

“He means Cobra,” I said. She and the doctor looked at me.

“Do you know Cobra?” she asked suspiciously. “Why you saying his name like you know him or something? Who is you, lady?”

“No, I didn’t know him. You said his name, and—”

She snatched her hand away from mine. “I think I’d rather talk in private,” she said, her voice now cold as ice. “I don’t

know this lady and I don’t want her in my business.”

“Very well,” the doctor said.

“And give me my damn baby,” she snapped at the nurse, who hopped up and handed the now sleeping toddler to his mother.

They all left, but before exiting the room, the young woman graced me with a backward glare. I stood up to stretch, but before

I could work out the kinks in my neck and back, another doctor came in. I tried to read his face, but he gave nothing away.

I quickly sat back down. In my mind I sought words to speak to God in the comfortable, trusting way Mama did, but no words

came.

“Are you Miss Daniels with the Pike County Group Home for Negro Boys?” His voice was formal. He appeared to be in his late

fifties or early sixties. He still wore his surgical cap, but white curls spilled out from underneath it.

“Yes, I’m Katia Daniels,” I said, rubbing my hands on my skirt.

“My name is Dr. Lowe and I performed surgery on Chadwick Montgomery,” he said, his voice softening. “But unfortunately—”

“Wait,” I said, closing my eyes, gripping the edges of my seat. “Wait... Just wait.” It felt as if the room was spinning.

“Miss Daniels, I’m so sorry, but Chad—”

“I should have done more,” I whispered, and then, as if the words couldn’t be contained, I spoke them louder. “I should have done more.”

“You didn’t do this, Miss Daniels,” he said firmly. “You didn’t cause any of this. Chad sustained so much trauma from the

bullets and then the surgery. His body wasn’t strong enough to fight everything. You’re not to blame for any of this.”

“I need to see him,” I said finally. “May I have some time alone with him?”

“Yes,” Dr. Lowe said. “And I am so sorry that I wasn’t able to save him.”

This time I reached out and put my hand on his arm. “You did the very best you could. Thank you.”

I fell back into the seat, all energy evaporated from my body. I needed to call the group home and Mama. I even thought about

Seth, but I pushed that out of my mind. Right now, I needed to sit with this news. Chad was gone.

“I am so sorry that you never got the life you deserved, Chadwick Montgomery,” I whispered, allowing the sobs to overtake

me.