24

After I told everyone my news, the room went silent. Everyone was shocked. Just like I didn’t mince my words with the boys,

I didn’t with my staff either.

Pee Wee’s grandmother had left, promising to come back the following week for another visit. When the staff arrived, I sent

the boys back outside to play with one of our volunteers. I’d called him to come by so the staff and I could meet. Jason was

the first to speak.

“This is bull,” he said, standing up and pacing. “This is some bull, Miss Katia. There’s no way they should have fired you.

No way at all. If they fired you, they should have fired all of us. We can all resign. If they see we’re a united front, they’ll

have to back down.”

Everyone murmured in agreement.

“Jason’s right,” Mrs. Grambling said. “Me and this old man love these boys, but if it wasn’t for Miss Katia, we would have

hung up our hats a long time ago. Ain’t that right, Albert?”

Mr. Grambling nodded. “We ain’t staying around here if Miss Katia is let go. It ain’t right.”

“Sure isn’t,” David Snell said, his face bright red. “Miss Katia, we’ve got your back on this one and so will half of Troy.

All we have to do is get on the phone and call some people. They will stand by you, just like we will.”

“Everyone,” I said, motioning for their attention. “Settle down. Jason, come and sit.” I waited while he sat down beside David.

“I appreciate everything you all are saying and I’m sad to leave you and these boys, but there’s something more important

at stake: the continuation of the work we’ve been doing here at the group home. As much as I appreciate your support, I don’t

want to fight them.”

“You are this group home, Miss Katia,” Cairo Fieldings said. “This place wouldn’t run if you weren’t leading it.”

I shook my head. “Not true, Cairo. This place wouldn’t run if it didn’t have a great team of dedicated workers, and it has

that. All of you, along with me, made this group home a success. And sitting right among you is the best person on the planet

to take over—Jason.”

“I’m not ready. I graduate in a few days, but I’m not ready to take your place,” Jason said.

I reached over and placed my hand on Jason’s. “I don’t want you to take my place. I want you to take your place as the new executive director of the group home. I saw how you handled yourself these last few weeks. You’re ready.”

I turned to everyone else. “And he’s going to need all of you to stay put and support him. Okay?” After further discussion,

everyone agreed to stay and not to fight the board. I stood.

“We have two more things to do before I step down. One is to tell the boys the news about my departure, and two is to make sure Chad is represented by this family at his funeral next week.” I’d spoken to the funeral home and the church, and it was decided that the funeral would be next Wednesday. I’d no longer be employed with the group home, so that would likely be our last time together as a team. I hated that it had to be for such a solemn event, but I was grateful everyone said they’d attend Chad’s funeral. I was satisfied that this conversation had gone as well as it could have.

“Thank you to everyone who came back for this meeting. I’m sorry I had to pull you in for this. I’m going home for the night,

but I’ll be back tomorrow to tell the boys. I want to give them some time to process the information while I’m still here,”

I said. I turned toward Jason, who was scheduled to work over the weekend. “If you need me, I’ll be at home.”

“I know what you said, honey,” said Mrs. Kennedy as she hugged me. “But this ain’t right. It just ain’t right. But I’m gone

pray to the good Lord that He sees you and us through these hard times.”

I hugged Mrs. Kennedy tightly. She and Miss Grant had been godsends during my time at the group home. I couldn’t imagine life

without them—without any of the staff. “From your mouth to God’s ears. Thank you, Mrs. Kennedy.”

“Me and Theresa gone make all your favorites on Monday. We gone send you off in style,” she said, putting a brave smile on

her face.

“Thank you,” I said, a tear falling down my cheek. Mrs. Kennedy’s kind words brought out the waterworks.

I hugged everyone else as they filed out, but Jason lingered. Once it was just the two of us, he turned and looked at me with fear in his eyes.

“I can’t do this, Miss Katia,” he said, sounding as terrified as one of the boys would be if I’d just told him he was in charge.

“I’m not ready. I’m not prepared to take over. Not now. Not yet.”

I sighed and motioned for Jason to join me on the couch. Once we were both seated, I took his hands and smiled at him. He

nodded, closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply. I did the same, and for a short while, we held hands and breathed. Once a

few minutes had gone by, I released his hands.

“You are ready,” I said.

“Miss Katia, I...”

I shook my head and continued to smile. “You are ready. And if you weren’t ready, I would tell you so. I have nothing left

to teach you. You have been an amazing assistant director, and, Jason, you’re going to be an even more amazing interim director.

Do you hear me?”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Tomorrow, after we tell the boys the news, you and I will hole up in your office, and I’ll answer any lingering questions you might have, and we will discuss any remaining issues on my desk that

you might not be aware of, although I don’t think there is anything. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for the trust you have in me. I will make you proud.”

I lightly placed my hand on his shoulder. “I cannot imagine being any prouder of you than I already am. You’re going to be a phenomenal interim director, and if they have any sense at all, they’ll make you the permanent executive director. Now, escort me to my chariot.”

“You mean your pickup truck,” he said with a smile.

“Same thing,” I said. After he stood, he extended his hand to help me get off the couch. “Let me go check in with the boys

before I go.”

Even though I’d put on a very good face, and even though I believed this was the right path for me to be on, I’d be lying

if I didn’t admit that leaving those boys behind was going to be difficult. I walked into the dining room, where Pee Wee,

Darren, and Charlie were studying. All of them looked up as we entered the room. “Boys, I’m going to go home for a little

bit. I probably won’t be back until the morning, so I want you to be good and listen to your houseparents. I’ll see you later.

Okay?”

They said yes and returned to their schoolbooks. Part of me felt bad for going home, but I needed to sleep in my own bed.

Jason walked me out to the truck. It started easily. It amazed me that over the last few weeks, my truck—Daddy’s truck—hadn’t

given me a moment of trouble. It was if it knew I needed it to cooperate. I looked upward and whispered, “Thank you, Daddy.”

I took my time driving home. I was tired and didn’t want to get distracted or, worse, fall asleep at the wheel. I turned on

the radio, and Dionne Warwick was singing a fairly new song of hers, “I Say a Little Prayer.” I loved the sound of Dionne’s

upbeat, jazzy voice—not quite as much as I loved Nina Simone’s, but close. By the time I drove into the yard at home, I was

more relaxed. But then I remembered I still had to tell Mama that I’d been fired.

However, Leon’s truck was parked near the back door, so maybe I could sneak in a nap before I had to tell her. If I remembered correctly, American Bandstand was on, and if I was lucky, some Negro would be on the show today so that Mama’s and Leon’s attention would be held.

I exited the truck and slowly walked toward the house. My entire body ached and the only thing I wanted to do was to go inside

and fall into my bed. But Mama must have heard me drive up, because she met me in the kitchen. She was dressed in a gorgeous

pink chiffon dress. In comparison, I felt dumpy in my polyester pantsuit.

“You didn’t call me today,” she said, wagging a finger at me, but then she stopped. She must have noticed the look on my face.

“Is everything alright, baby?”

“I got fired, Mama,” I said, my voice cracking. “The board voted this morning to let me go.”

“Oh, Katia,” she said, opening her arms wide. I stepped into her embrace and it felt good to be held by her. “I’m so sorry,

baby. This week has been too much. Way too much.”

My heart felt like it was ready to burst. Between losing Chad and now losing my job... I wasn’t sure how much more I could

handle.

“Why don’t you come watch television with me and Leon?” she suggested. “Your brother went running. He said he wanted to clear

his head.”

I shook my head. The last thing I wanted to do was be a third wheel with Mama and Leon. “I’m going to call Lish and then I’m

taking a nap. Thank you though.”

Mama hugged me again. “You don’t have to be alone in all of this.” She then leaned in and whispered, “There’s a handsome young man who seems like he’d be interested in being a shoulder for you to lean on.”

“He’s out of the question, Mama,” I said, my voice sounding weary to my own ears. “You know why.”

“Babies ain’t the only thing men find attractive in a woman, Katia,” she said. “You don’t add up the full measure of what

you bring to the table.”

Mama saw that I wasn’t going to debate the issue and sighed. “Okay then. I’m going to go finish watching Bandstand . Ain’t too much to see. Glen Campbell and some white folks group called The Sunshine Company is on today. I sure wish they

had something like Bandstand for Negroes, ’cause Dick Clark is mighty slow to bring our musicians onto his show.”

I smiled. “Maybe one day, Mama.”

She gave me a final hug and went out of the kitchen. I took the phone to the kitchen table and sat down. As I was about to

dial Alicia’s number, the phone rang. I picked up and it was Jason.

“Sorry to bother you, Miss Katia, but the police called and said they’ve received word that if Chad’s funeral goes on as planned,

some of Cobra’s associates are planning to retaliate,” he said.

“Are they going to provide protection?” I hadn’t even considered there being any type of violence at Chad’s funeral. I recalled

the pregnant girl at the hospital. Was it her people? Cobra’s? A combination of the two?

“No, ma’am. From the tone of the policeman, they couldn’t care less what we do. They’re staying out of it, until the worst happens, I guess.”

“Let me call the funeral home and—”

“I just called,” he interrupted. “They suggested we wait a week or two for things to cool down, and instead of having a funeral,

they could bury Chad without any fanfare. I’m so sorry.”

“A week or two? No funeral?” I couldn’t wrap my head around what I was hearing. We were supposed to put that precious baby

into the ground like some dead animal we’d found on the street? No prayers over his body? No words of condolences? Just throw

him into a hole and forget about him?

“I’ve got to go, Jason. I’ll call you back.” I hung up and ran out of the house, slamming the door behind me. I needed to

scream and rail against the injustice of it all. I climbed into my truck and closed the door right before the first scream

escaped my throat. I wanted to do more—to hit something or someone.

“Why?” I yelled. “Why? Why? Why?” My crying became loud, uncontrollable wails. I didn’t know how to contain my rage. My little

brother was lost somewhere in the jungles of Vietnam. My poor big little boy was dead and I’d never see his face again. And

the job that had defined me half of my adult life had been snatched away from me.

“And I can’t have any babies!” I moaned. “I can’t have any babies!” I began to hit my steering wheel, my all-consuming grief

overpowering me.

Suddenly I heard a knock on the truck door. Though I could barely see through my tears, I recognized that it was Marcus.

“Open the door, Katia!” he yelled.

“I’m fine,” I choked out. “I’m fine.”

“Open the door.”

I unlocked the door, and he ordered me to scoot over. He climbed inside and pulled me close.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Why are you out here crying like this? Is it Aaron?” His face hardened but his eyes were panicked.

I shook my head, trying to stop the sobs. “I can’t have any babies, and I can’t bury Chad. They fired me from my job. And

we don’t know where Aaron is.”

I fell into his arms, trying to stifle my screams, but I couldn’t control them. It was as if decades of grief were bubbling

to the surface all at once. For the first time ever, Marcus comforted me, giving me the love and attention that I’d always

given him.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “It’s okay. You cry. Nothing wrong with crying sometime.”

I was grateful for Marcus’s strong arms. He held me as we sat together inside our daddy’s pickup truck, underneath the barren

pecan trees in our backyard.