She turned away from me and refocused her attention on the butcher preparing her meat package. I knew she was right, but that didn’t stop my mind from wandering. I thought back to the day I found out Alayah had been arrested.
It wasa normal Friday morning. I walked into school like Idid five days a week. The moment I stepped inthe building, I got weird looks from way too manypeople. There were several groups huddled together talking quietly amongthemselves. As I passed each of them, their eyes dartedto me, causing my brows to furrow.
“What the hellis going on around here?” I mumbled to myself.
Ikept making strides to my locker, my eyes scanning thehallways for Alayah. Her locker was right across the hallfrom mine. She was never late to school, so Iexpected to see her there, but she wasn’t. Maybeshe was eating breakfast. I didn’t think much ofit as I opened my locker to grab my first-period books.
My friend Kadeem came up to me withthe same weird look on his face.
“Yo, why iseverybody looking like that?” I asked, closing my locker.
“Youain’t heard about your girl?”
“My girl? My girlwho?”
“Alayah.”
“What about her?”
“She got arrested, man. Shekilled her mama’s boyfriend.”
“Get the fuck outta here, Kadeem. Alayah? She wouldn’t hurt anybody.”
“Swear to God. She stabbed that nigga up last night.”
He pulled outhis phone and pulled up a social media post. Staringback at me was a picture of Alayah being ledout of her house covered in bloody clothes. Police carsand ambulances were on the scene, and neighbors were gatheredaround. My eyes widened as I read that she’dstabbed Rodney West a total of twenty-six times, andhis face was beyond recognition.
“This can’t be right,” I said, shaking my head as I handed the phoneback to him. “Alayah wouldn’t do that unprovoked.”
“Shit, I don’t know the story, but she definitely didthat shit. You see all that blood? It looks likea massacre.”
I opened my locker again and grabbed mybackpack before starting back toward the main entrance.
“Where yougoing!” Kadeem called after me.
I ignored him. I hadto see Alayah. Something had to have happened. She wouldn’t just snap like that.
I drove all the way to the police station that day. I wasn’t sure why I thought they would let me see her. I saw her mother, sisters, and who I now knew were her aunt and uncle waiting and crying. My first mind told me to go over there, but I stopped my feet from moving. What the hell was I supposed to say? Defeated, I left the police station and went back home. My parents hadn’t left for work yet, and when I walked in, they both looked at me with knowing gazes.
The television was turned to the news station, and the story was playing. I didn’t go to school that day. Instead, I sat in my room watching the story on every local outlet that played it. I scrolled my social media, reading every theory my classmates had about what really happened. Some of them thought Alayah was sleeping with Rodney. Some said he must have done something to her because she was too quiet to ever do something like that.
There were so many speculations with no real truth behind them. Kadeem texted me later to tell me there was an entire assembly, and the principal urged anyone who was having problems to speak with the guidance counselor if they needed help. They never said Alayah’s name, but they didn’t have to. Everybody knew who and what he was referring to.
For weeks on end after the details came out, several people asked me if I knew anything or if she was telling the truth. I said nothing, but every question brought back a memory. It was her behavior or little things she said and did. All the signs of abuse were there, yet somehow they were missed. I felt like I failed her as a friend. As much as I spoke with her, as much as I’d been to that house, I should have known…I should have known.
Chapter 7
Alayah
One of the conditions of my parole was that I found a job. I think my biggest fear was going for an interview and having someone recognize my face. I’d been home for two weeks now, and other than going with my aunt to the grocery store, I hadn’t left the house. I spent most of my time in my room reading or in the backyard in the garden.
In prison, my first work duty consisted of maintaining the garden. It was supposed to help build vocational skills, boost mental health and self-esteem. I can admit that it gave me a sense of pride in growing something with my own two hands. My aunt grew most of her fruits and vegetables and had been doing so since I was a kid. Growing up, my sisters and I used to help her when we came over. In a way, it made me feel closer to them since I couldn’t see them.
Today, I was going with my uncle to his mechanic shop to start my training. His receptionist was going on maternity leave soon, so he’d graciously offered me her job temporarily. Once she came back, he said he would find something for me to do if I wanted to stay there. I appreciated him being so accommodating. I was a little nervous with meeting everyone. There was no telling how they would react to me.
I got up bright and early to get myself together. Technically, it wasn’t an office job, but I would have my own office. He told me to dress comfortably, so I threw on a white V-neck that I tucked into a pair of green cargo pants, along with my white slip-on canvas shoes. I slicked my curls into a low ponytail and borrowed a few pieces of jewelry from my aunt to accessorize.
“You look so good,” she said, beaming with pride. “Turn around. Let me see you.”
