I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to tell her not to go with him—to break it off for good so she can be free. And maybe, for a moment, I hope that Dray means it this time—that he’s really sorry and he loves her and he won’t hurt her anymore. There’s nothing else to do but to hold on to that hope. But I know it’s a lie that I’m telling myself. It’s a lie that Donna is telling herself, too.
Donna and Dray leave the gym. Pri watches them, still with her leg shaking. Then she turns to me and our eyes meet. She shakes her head. I shake my head and shrug. It’s the first time we both understand each other without even exchanging a single word. Then something in her eyes softens when Taj touches her shoulder. Pri stops shaking her leg and turns back to Taj and the game. Cooler now, almost liquid.
I’m pulled back into this game, to my friends, and to Kasim when he says, “How many times I gotta tell you not to worry about them? They’re doing their thing.”
“You think that is love?” I ask.
“He loves her. Trust me. I know. But we won’t have that kind of love.”
Then right there, right in the middle of the bleachers for all my friends and schoolmates to see, he kisses me on the lips, for a long time. If Dray and Donna’s love is like a tornado—wild, dangerous, and unpredictable—then this thing between me and Kasim is like the ocean—deep, deep, and as wide as the endless earth.
I can’t sleep because Donna has not come home yet. I’m in that sleep-wake place when I hear Bad Leg. Papa Legba has another riddle for me. My ears are wide open while my eyes stay shut. Chantal’s light snoring keeps me from hearing every single word, but it’s a song I remember from months ago—one of Bad Leg’s very first riddles, before I realized he was Papa Legba.
Maybe it has been a few hours, or only a few minutes, but I’m forced back into that sleep-wake space by the sound of a man yelling. The words are hard and come fast. Shut the fuck up, old man! Mind your fucking business! I sit up on the air mattress. My head is still fuzzy, my eyes are sticky. Chantal is still asleep. You don’t know what the fuck you talking about! the voice shouts. I recognize it. So I rush to the window. I see the white car. I see the top of a girl’s head standing in front of the house—Donna. I see Dray standing over Bad Leg, who’s just sitting on the bucket. Dray shoves his head.
“Was it you all this time? Huh, Bad Leg? You sittin’ here pretending you’re crazy and shit . . . ,” Dray yells.
I don’t think. I’m out of bed, out of the room, and down the stairs in an instant. I hear more shouting from Dray, but I can’t hear his words from the living room. I don’t even put on a coat. I just open the front door. Donna is there and she quickly turns to me. Her tears are glistening on her cheeks.
“You working with the cops, Bad Leg? You a fucking snitch, man?”
I don’t step out because Dray’s words working with the cops are like a giant brick wall that’s been placed in front of me. I was going to help Bad Leg. I was going to beg him to become Papa Legba again and disappear. But I don’t want Dray to see me now. I don’t have any words for him.
So I whisper to Donna, “Come inside.”
She shakes her head and looks toward Dray, who kicks the bucket that Bad Leg is sitting on. The old man is as still as the lamppost above him. Then Dray shoves him in the head.
“Dray!” Donna calls out.
A light from someone’s window across the street comes on. A dog starts barking. Dray steps away from Bad Leg. But instead of walking over to Donna, he gets back into his car and drives away.
“Come in, Donna!” I whisper again so I don’t wake Matant Jo.
I pull her in. When we’re inside, she rushes into the kitchen and heads straight for the freezer. She takes out a pack of frozen peas, wraps it in paper towels, and puts it on her cheek. I turn on the light. She comes over and turns it back off as I try to pull her hand and the frozen peas away from her face, but she doesn’t let me.
“I’m gonna tell Pri,” I whisper.
She moves the peas away from her face. I can’t see anything, so I take her hand, walk her to the fridge, and open its door so I can see with the light from there. The left side of her cheek is red and swollen with still-bleeding scratch marks. It’s from Dray’s fist and hands. The scratches let me know that Donna was fighting back.
I pull her in and hug her. I hold her for a long time in the dark kitchen.
“You have the battle wounds of Ezili-Danto,” I whisper into her ear. “She is a warrior.”
“I fight back,” she says.
“No, you are not a fighter. You are Ezili’s child—the lover. The beauty. Leave him alone. I will fight for you, Donna. I will fight this battle for you.” I kiss her on her head and rub her back as she cries and cries.
Then she says, “Please don’t tell my sisters.”
“I won’t have to. They will see for themselves.”