Chapter 25
Where Does the Time Go?
Cecily
Two years ago, there was a story floating around our neighborhood. A man—a black man or a brown man, some people would say, lowering their voices—was walking around at night, peering into windows. Someone’s dog had kept him from entering a house, went one story. Two teenage lovers had scared him away another time. Other rumors had less detail, but the point was always the same—something had to be done about this before something bad happened. The police were called and the cameras were checked and nothing could be found. There were no fingerprints on the windowsill the dog had supposedly defended. No footprints beneath the window where the man had supposedly been seen.
“A ghost,” Tom called him (if it was a him). “Our very own Halloween ghost.”
“But Halloween’s not for forever,” Henry said.
“And Halloween is for losers,” Cassie said.
“I’ve always loved Halloween,” I said.
Cassie rolled her eyes, and Henry, who was on the cusp of maybe not trick-or-treating though I knew he wanted to, gave me a smile, and Tom shook his head at all of us.
“You’re not scared?”
“Tom!”
“It’s nothing, Lil. A bunch of overhyped, hysterical people who think too much.”
“Are you speaking of me?”
“Of course not.” He winked at me. “You know what they’re like, that playground crowd. One black guy takes a walk and . . .”
“Tom.”
“You know it’s true.”
“What’s true, Dad? Are you talking about racists? We learned all about that during Black History Month.”
Henry started hopping on one foot and patting the top of his head at the same time—a coordination exercise his baseball coach had introduced him to that he continued doing after the season was over because it drove Cassie nuts.
“Dad! He’s doing it again.”
“Henry, you know that makes your sister crazy.”
Henry stopped jumping.
“So, is that what it is, Dad? Racism?” Henry was speaking as if he were in a museum. Like he was looking at a diorama meant to explain what it was. A kid in a hoodie, a man stopped for “driving while black,” another senseless police shooting.
“Yes, son. That’s exactly what it is.”
“Why are people racist?”
“People are afraid,” I said. “If something’s different or they haven’t experienced it before.”
“But everyone’s different,” Henry said. “I’m different.”
Tom and I smiled at each other. Our little blond boy who had every advantage in life was special and different, and how could we tell him otherwise? Once when he was seven, we tried to explain to him why the autistic boy in his class couldn’t help it when he said “hi” twenty times a day. “Some people are different,” I said. “I’m different,” Henry responded. “Some people are special,” Tom tried. “I’m special,” Henry said emphatically.
“Everyone’s different, and no one’s better than anyone else,” Tom said. “Some people are luckier, and some people have bad luck, and some people work hard and get things, and some people work very hard and don’t get things. We’re all entitled to the same respect.”
Tom wasn’t usually one to give speeches or lessons, but this was something he’d always felt passionate about. I was proud of him that day, knowing, as I looked at our children, that the force of his conviction would erase any doubts they might have in their minds, any hate they might have in their hearts.
Was he fucking her then? Was that moment false, too? Is it possible to be both a terrific father and a terrible man at the same time?
A man to admire and a man to hate?
I’m thinking of Tom now as the cops charge past me and shove Teo to the ground. Tom would know what to do. Tom would take charge.
Of course, if Tom were here, this wouldn’t be happening in the first place.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask.
“Ma’am, step back, ma’am.”
“This is my friend. This is my friend Teo.”
“You know this man?” There are two cops in my house now, both white men in their midtwenties, stiff-necked. I can smell the scent of fear coming off the one closest to me, who looks too young to have this much responsibility. His gun’s in his holster, but his hand is resting above it, twitching.
“Of course I do. Let him up. What the hell are you doing?”
The other cop has his knee in Teo’s back.
“Shut that door!”
I reflexively kick it closed with my foot, nicking the side of it on the frame. My skin splits, and I can feel the blood start to flow.
“What’s going on?”
It’s Henry, eyes round and hair wild, standing in the stairwell.
“Get upstairs, Henry. Right now. Go to your sister’s room, and close the door until I tell you it’s okay. Now! Go now.”
He turns and scampers up the stairs.
“Let him up. Why are you sitting on him like that? Teo, are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” Teo says, his voice muffled.
“Get off him. Right this minute.”
I’m using the same tone I used with Henry, my voice of authority, when I’ve had enough and they know I mean business. This twentysomething kid who hasn’t been on the job that long responds to it like I’m his mother. He looks up with a guilty expression on his face and lets the pressure off Teo’s back.
“Ma’am . . .”
“I mean it. I don’t know why this is happening, but this needs to stop right now. Get up. Get up!”
The officer gets up. I race to Teo, my tears falling onto the back of his sweater. I help him turn over. There’s a bruise forming under his right eye.
“Are you okay?”
“It’s fine, Cecily. Just leave it, all right?”
He pushes my hand away.
“Let me at least get some ice.”
Teo stands up slowly. The police officers back away, looking a bit confused, even though they’re the cause of this scene.
“How did this happen?” Teo asks one of the officers. “What are you doing here?”
“We got a call from one of Mrs. Grayson’s neighbors about a break-in.”
“And you saw him in my house and assumed—”
“Please let me handle this.”
I take a step back. I’ve done enough.
“I’m going to go check on my kids,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”
I turn to the stairs. My feet feel like weights, exhaustion overcoming me. I learned a while ago that when you woke up in the morning, there was no accounting for how long the day would take, because not all days are created equal. The day I got Tom’s texts, that day started out normally but then slowed down until it took up the space of a week. October tenth took no time to pass in comparison. Both changed my life irrevocably, and it feels like today will, too.