"I thought you would always be suspicious. I thought you would never believe it wasn't true." I replied. "I also thought your father would get so angry. . . he would forbid you from ever seeing me."
"You should have told me," he repeated, shaking his head. "If you like someone, really like him, you trust him. Trust is a very important thing, Ice, very important."
"I know, I'm sorry, Balwin. Really. I am. I sent the money back to him. When I called and told him, he said I wouldn't and he laughed at the idea."
"You called?"
"A few times. I called your phone and spoke to your mother, too. Didn't anyone give you the messages?" He shook his head.
"I guess they thought my usefulness was ended," I said. I was feeling so sorry for myself. I wished someone would dig me a well to cry in. "Your father didn't have to pay me to like you and to help you feel better about yourself, Balwin."
I turned on him, my eyes burning with unrequited tears.
"I enjoyed every minute we were together and the song you wrote for me will always be something special to me."
Balwin glanced at me and I stared at the floor. I was afraid to look directly at him again. afraid I really might start to cry and never stop. I think he sensed it. His voice turned so much softer.
"I should have given you more of a chance to explain. Ice. I'm sorry about that. but I was so hurt, so angry. I felt betrayed."
"I know."
"Will you come back?"
"No." I said. "I don't think I'll feel comfortable there just now."
"Well, then let's keep practicing at school. Mr. Glenn will let us use the chorus room. okay?"
I was silent.
"Ice? Okay?"
"If that's what you really want," I said.
"I do,"
"Then. okay," I said and got out of the car.
"Tomorrow, after school?" he called.
I nodded.
Then I turned and walked away. He watched me walk all the way to my apartment building before he started his car and left. I watched him drive off.
Music, I thought, music was still the tie that binds. The rhythm, the melody and the words flowed through my h
eart as well as my mind. I could face anything if that was always true. I thought.
I was soon to be put to the test.
It came in the form of a loud knock on our apartment door just a little after eleven that same evening. Mama was already asleep and when she fell asleep, she was pretty much dead to the world. Sometimes, she even put cotton in her ears to keep anything from disturbing her.
I thought the knocking was part of a dream I was having. I tossed and turned all night, fretted in and out of the nightmare trying to settle in my brain. I heard the knocking continue and finally opened my eyes. I listened, heard a voice and more knocking and then rose quickly, scooping up my robe and shoving my feet into my slippers.
"Who's there?" I called through the closed door. There were two robberies this month in the building, and both had happened because someone had opened her door too quickly.
"Mike Tooty, from the agency." I heard. I knew that was Daddy's security company and I knew Mike Tooey. I looked toward Mama's bedroom, but she hadn't vet woken.
"Just a minute." I said and undid the locks. I opened the door and faced him. He had his hat in his hands and he was in full uniform. "What is it?"