Something She Can Feel

“Dead?” I repeated.

“The TV,” my mother said. “It’s all over the TV ... in the newspapers ... the Internet.”

“We’ve been trying to get information since last night, but no one knew where you were ... if you were alive,” my father said, stepping up next to my mother.

“But what are they saying? What?”

“Dame,” Justin started, “he turned himself in.”

All afternoon long, as my mother sat on the phone and called everyone to tell them I was all right and at home, I sat on the couch beside Justin flipping between news stations to piece together what people knew of the situation in Kumasi and what happened since I’d left Ghana. The reports ranged from local sources revealing that Dame and I had actually tried to rob the man to our being involved in a drug transaction gone bad. All statements described a yellow woman with light eyes and wild hair. Some said she’d been killed along with the African man and others told of a possible kidnapping. It was both amazing and disturbing how the stories were so distant from anything resembling the truth. They made what happened sound so sensational. So far away. So unreal. Like Dame and I were some characters in a rap video who’d only gone overseas in search of trouble. And even the man who was killed, whose name hadn’t been mentioned one time, seemed like a simple pawn in the thing. Africa was a backdrop and he was just another character in the concocted adventure story.

I had to work to ensure my father that none of this was true. And while he seemed a bit softer than he had when I left, he appeared more happy to see me home and alive than to hear my story. But then, I thought, maybe I was the one who needed to hear it again.

“Here it is,” May said, turning up the TV when a grainy image of Dame being escorted into what looked like a police station by a bevy of military-looking police officers. Behind the looping image, the reporter announced that Dame had turned himself into the authorities for the murder of an African man in a Kumasi bar. His attorneys had no comment and there was no word yet on the charges he would face.

“You okay?” my mother asked, handing me a napkin to wipe my tears.

“Yes, Mama,” I said.

“I know you’re upset about that boy but we’re just happy to have you home.”

I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see that it was Jr.

Chapter Twenty-nine

“What a month,” May said, pulling the covers back for me on the bed in one of my parents’ guest rooms. We’d eaten dinner and after a few awkward hugs, Jr left to go back to his house and May stayed in her seat beside me on the couch.

“Yeah. It’s been pretty crazy,” I agreed. I didn’t know how I’d be able to find any sleep during the night, but the rest for my bones sounded very inviting.

“But it’s kinda nice to see everyone back in the house. For a while, I thought this would never be possible again.”

I slid off my shoes and sat down on the bed.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “for everything that happened with Jr. He had no right saying the things he said.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me. And don’t apologize for your brother.” She turned and smiled weakly. “As mean as he was, as harsh as his words came out, he made us all finally face the truth and that’s the best thing that could’ve happened, really. I feel like I have a whole new life. It hurts a lot. Sometimes I really miss Jr—I won’t lie. But I have to protect myself first now. And I’m seeing more and more that I’m worth protecting.”

“Wow,” I said. “You certainly don’t sound like the same May I left crying on the bed at her mother’s house with the Bible in her lap.”

“That’s because my Bible is in here now,” she said, placing her hand over her heart. “And no one can manipulate the meaning there.”

“So what else has been going on since I left?” I asked after changing into an old nightgown my mother left on the chair beside the bed for me.

“Nothing,” she said, laughing a little. “You know, it’s funny. When you left, everyone just went their separate ways. No one was talking and it was like we were just going through the motions, but not really saying what was on our minds. I moved out. Justin left. Your parents—they just went back to pretending nothing happened. And then when the news broke about what happened—”

“In Kumasi?”

“Yeah.” She looked off. “We all ended up coming together here again. One behind the other, the cars showed up in the driveway. We sat around the TV and your parents had Justin looking up stuff on the Internet and it was like we had to really see each other again for the first time because we had to depend on each other for support. And while we were still quiet, the apologies were in our eyes. In our silent prayers. In our wishes th

at the last thing that made us a family would be returned to us unharmed.”

“I didn’t mean to just leave like that,” I said. “But I had to go.”

“Did you love him?”

“I do love him.”

When May finally left me alone in the room, I lay in the darkness in the center of the bed for a long while. I didn’t expect to find rest or hear the silence in the room. My mind was too busy tossing around images of where I’d been. Some were sad and some were happy. And I could hear things, too. My singing. Dame’s laughing. The gun going off. The thump of the man’s head on the floor. The sound of the plane taking off as I departed. Kweku inviting me to talk. These sights and sounds played in no specific order in my mind until they became a foreboding dream. Where I was happy, there was this ominous blanket covering me. Where I was sad, I knew that soon I’d hear the blasts again and this would all end. Even in my unexpected sleep, I knew these images were real and as I fought each second to change what had happened, everything was replayed just the same.