I kept my eyes tightly shut. I felt her hold my face between her hands.
“We are all here. You are okay. You have to breathe, baby. Samuel needs you,” my mother soothed.
I couldn’t piece together a coherent thought. My mind was racing. My head was banging. My chest was burning. I couldn’t take a deep breath. My breaths were staccato and shallow.
“Breathe, Averie,” I heard my dad’s voice.
I slowly opened my eyes and saw my mother in front of me. My vision wasn’t clear, but I knew it was her.
“That’s it. Take in a breath. You are okay. You are okay.”
I took in a deep breath and felt my breathing start to level out.
“There you go. You have to cry, Averie. You have to let it all out. I know it’s scary and a lot of responsibility has dropped into your lap. You are built to handle it. But first, you have to release,” my mother explained.
She was correct. I needed to cry, but I hadn’t cried since I was nine. When I was in elementary school, I got a lower grade on my math test because the teacher claimed he couldn’t read my handwriting. I was livid! I knew math like the back of my hand. I’d studied for hours to get a perfect grade on that test. Then I didn’t get a perfect score because he couldn’t read my handwriting? I cried for an hour. After that, I decided that tears were for the weak. I went to the principal’s office and explained the situation. I took in writing samples and pleaded that my grade should be changed. My principal was impressed. He told me that I should become a lawyer when I grew up. Needless to say, that teacher raised my test score.
“Come here, Vee,” I heard my father say.
He pulled me in and wrapped his long arms around me. It was like he pressed a button that turned on my tears. My mother rubbed my back while my dad held me. Torrey wiped my face while I silently cried.
“I watched him die, Mommy. He died right in front of me!”
“I know baby. He’s not gone, they brought him back,” my mother softly said.
“I don’t want to lose him. I love him so much.”
“I know baby. I know.”
I don’t know how long we stayed on the floor of the bathroom before I was helped to my feet by Keeva and Kerem who both hugged me and forced more tears from me.
“This is a nightmare. I don’t understand why this is happening right now.”
“Life can get complicated in a matter of seconds, sweetheart. We have to adjust and work our way through it,” my father answered.
I knew he was right. I had to be strong for Samuel and work my way through this. The only way I knew to do that was with work. I had to stay busy.
“Someone needs to tell Samuel’s father,” I said while splashing water on my face.
I felt horrible but better than I did when I first burst through the door of the bathroom.
“Can’t we send a message through the office or something like that?” my mother asked.
“Yes, but since I am an attorney and still on the books as working with Samuel’s firm, I should be able to go in and speak with him face to face. I don’t think he would want to hear this from someone outside of the family.”
Averie
The day after the shooting…
It was easierthan I thought it would be to get in to see Reggie. Xavier helped me contact the prison. I waited in the small room that only contained a metal table bolted to the ground and three folding chairs. There weren’t any two-way mirrors like the rooms at the police precincts or small cameras in the corner of the room.
I was operating on a maximum of two hours of sleep and a venti double shot on ice. I was wired and tired all at the same time. Every time I tried to close my eyes, I kept seeing Samuel having that seizure. I couldn’t shake the memory. It was the scariest thing I’d ever witnessed. I spent the night at the hospital because I wanted to be close just in case something happened. I sent my family home, but my mother came back bright and early the next morning with food and clothes for me to change into. Samuel had made it through the night which gave the doctors a glimmer of hope, but they still considered his condition to be dire and told us to prepare for the worse.
The door to the room opened and in walked a version of Samuel except several years older, a couple shades darker and about an inch taller. Samuel was the spitting image of his father. Roc looked a lot like Reggie too but must have more of his mother’s features.
Reggie was regal, stately, majestic. I felt like I should have stood or something. His presence, like Samuel’s, was commanding. It felt like royalty had entered the room. Reggie examined me while the guard led him to his chair and then removed his handcuffs. He waited until the guard closed the door behind him before he spoke.
“What happened to my son, Ms. Patterson?”