chapter
42
“Trey!”
The sight of my little brother running toward me made my heart swell with joy. He jumped into my arms and I swung him around.
“Look at you, you little knucklehead!” I said, palming his forehead.
“I don’t have a knucklehead!”
“Yes, you do,” I said. “But it’s the best-looking knucklehead I’ve ever seen.” I hugged him tightly as I looked up at Mr. G., standing beside us in the lobby of the Markham Hotel. “Thank you so much,” I mouthed.
Mr. G. nodded. “We had to work some magic, but God must’ve been on your side.” He winked, and then I noticed the pretty lady standing next to him.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hi,” she replied.
“This is my wife, Savannah,” Mr. G. said. “Babe, this is Trey, Jamal’s brother that I was telling you about. You met him years ago, back when he used to come to the Boys & Girls Club all the time.”
“How are you? Yes, you have definitely grown up from the last time I saw you,” she said.
“I’m great now that I got to see my little brother.” I hugged Jamal again.
“Can we go play basketball?” Jamal asked.
“I wish.”
Mr. G. knelt down so that he was face-to-face with my little brother.
“Jamal, remember I told you. We are just here to see your brother for a little bit.”
Jamal buried his face in my shoulder. “I wanna stay with him.”
That almost made me cry.
“You know what, Jamal? You see that candy over there by the front desk? How would you feel about some Skittles?” Mr. G. asked as he stood.
The mention of Skittles must have made Jamal forget what he was just upset about, because he jumped up and down. “Yes!”
Mr. G. handed him two dollars and pointed to the counter. “Just tell that man over there what you want and he’ll get it. We’ll be standing right here. I’m not taking my eyes off you.”
I watched him dart over to the counter, and reality started to set in.
“I don’t know how I’m going to make it at school worried about him. I’ve heard horror stories about those group homes. At least with me going every other day, I could check on him.”
Mr. G. and his wife exchanged looks. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked her.
She nodded. They were smiling at each other like they were up to no good. “Frankie would love a sibling,” she said.
“What are you guys talking about?” I asked. “Who’s Frankie?”
“The little boy who I told you my wife and I just adopted,” Mr. G. said. “He just came home last week and we’re already in love. He’s in school right now.”
“Oh, cool,” I said. A thought came to me, and a quick pang shot through my heart. I didn’t want Jamal to get adopted because I was coming back to get him, but I did want him to go to a safe foster home. But what if he got with a family that didn’t let him see me?
“Franklin is seven,” Mr. G. said, “close in age to Jamal.”
Now I was wondering what they were talking about.
“And well,” Mrs. G. spoke up, “we were thinking Franklin might like a big brother.”
“What?” I said.
“Well, my wife and I kinda bonded with Jamal on the way over here,” Mr. G. said. “And once she learned he’s in the system . . .”
Mrs. G. continued his sentence. “I knew immediately that I’d like to get to know your brother a little better. And then maybe he can come live with us. That way you can see him whenever you want,” she said. “We’re already certified so we’d make excellent foster parents.”
I looked back and forth between them.
“Are you serious, Mr. G.?”
“As triple bypass surgery,” he replied. “I figured you’d be able to focus on school if you know your little brother is well taken care of.”
I wanted to jump for joy right there in that hotel lobby.
“Oh, snap. That’s awesome,” I said. I was hugging both of them when Mrs. Rodríguez walked into the lobby.
“Mrs. Rodríguez,” I called out to her. I knew she was coming to make sure I got out of the room okay. “Over here!” She headed over to me.
“Hello, Trey. How was everything?” Something was different about her. Her eyes were reddish and her smile didn’t seem as genuine as it was the other day. Still, I couldn’t contain my excitement.
“You were right!” I exclaimed. “Everything worked out.”
I threw my arms around her neck, too, which caught her by surprise. “Well, that’s some kind of thank-you. I guess that means your room was fine?”
“It was better than fine, and I didn’t even eat everything out of the minibar!”
She laughed, then noticed Mrs. G. “Savannah? What in the world are you doing here?”
She looked surprised as well. “Actually, we’re here for Trey. But I thought you were working with the Freedom Coalition,” she said.
“I am,” Mrs. Rodríguez replied. “I just came to make sure Trey was okay. You know him?”
“Yes, he’s one of the kids in my husband’s program.”
“Well, small world.” Mrs. Rodríguez smiled, then looked at Mr. G. in recognition. “Aren’t you from the Boys & Girls Club?”
Mr. G. nodded.
“I used to bring my son there.”
“Who’s your son?” Mr. G. asked.
My muscles tightened in my stomach.
Her mood turned somber. “Paco Rodríguez.”
“Yes, Paco,” Mr. G. said. “I haven’t talked to him in a couple of years, how is he?”
She swallowed like she was trying to compose herself. “Unfortunately, I found out yesterday that he was killed. I was coming to see about Trey, and then—” She paused to compose herself. “I have to go to the morgue. My son has apparently been there for days.”
Mr. and Mrs. G. gasped. I looked away.
“I am so sorry,” Mrs. G. said. Mr. G. was studying me and I could tell he knew I knew something.
“I have cried all night,” Mrs. Rodríguez continued, “but I know God has His reasons for everything.” She took a deep breath, then managed a faint smile. “Just pray for my family’s strength. My children are not taking this well.”
“Of course,” Mrs. G. said.
Her eyes must’ve asked an unspoken question because Mrs. Rodríguez said, “I have no idea what Paco’s death means for me, but I just have to stay faithful.”
Mrs. G. squeezed her hand. “Keep in touch and let me know if there is anything we can do.”
Jamal came running back up to us. He held up his bag. “I got Tropical Skittles,” he announced.
“May I have some?” I asked, if for no other reason than to ease the heavy cloud that hung over us.
Jamal looked around at all of us. “Okay, everybody gets two.” I couldn’t help but smile because he was serious.
“I say we go grab some dinner, then take you to the bus station,” Mr. G. said after my brother had distributed his Skittles.
“Oh, you’re leaving?” Mrs. Rodríguez said.
I nodded. “Going to start a new life. Thank you for saving my old one.”
“I’m so glad our paths crossed.” Now, her smile was genuine.
She reached in and hugged me. “I couldn’t save my son.” She patted my cheek. “But I’m grateful I could help save you. I need to get going, though.” Fresh tears sprung to her eyes. “I have a funeral to plan.”
I felt guilty that I hadn’t told her what I knew about Paco or that I even knew him. But it was obvious that she’d been through enough. And I had no doubt that she had the strength to carry on.
“Take care of yourself,” Mrs. G. said, hugging her. “And again, let me know if you need anything.”
Mrs. Rodríguez managed one last smile before she walked away.
We all looked down at Jamal, who was intensely studying each Skittle, and that lightened the mood.
“Come on,” I said, reaching for my brother’s hand. “Let’s roll, li’l bro.”
As we left out of the Markham Hotel, Jamal’s hand intertwined with mine, and with Mr. and Mrs. G. close behind us, it felt like . . . a family. I knew we weren’t a family. But after what Mr. G. and his wife were doing for me, I couldn’t help but feel like we were destined to be one.
It’s amazing how just a matter of days, in one room, could change the course of someone’s life.
I was grateful that someone was me and for the first time in my young life, I felt hope.