“Fab,” she says. “Why are you running out of here? Where you going?”
I ignore her. When I reach the corner, Bad Leg is there, thank goodness. He looks different. He’s all dressed up in a black suit and bow tie. And sunglasses. He’s wearing sunglasses just like Dray.
“Papa Legba,” I say, and pull the coat’s hood up over my head. “Did everything go as planned? Eh, Papa Legba? Did everything happen the way it should?”
When Papa Legba speaks, my legs begin to shake:
Cupid’s bow and arrow
aimed straight for the heart.
Tears shed from sorrow
tearing everything apart.
I take slow steps back to the house as Bad Leg sings this song while laughing and coughing and starting the song over again.
“Fabiola, get in the house! It’s cold as fuck out here!” Pri yells from the doorway. Chantal is standing next to her.
“What’s going on, Fab?” Chantal asks. “Why are you running to Bad Leg?”
I come in and close the door behind me. Cupid, arrow, heart, apart.
“What’s wrong with your face?” Pri asks. “You look like you’ve just seen a zombie.”
Donna comes to the door to see what’s wrong.
I check my phone. Kasim has not texted again. So I call him.
No answer.
“Fabiola?” Chantal says. “What’s going on? Why you acting all crazy?”
I call again. No answer.
“Donna, where is Dray?” I ask.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” she says.
“Can you call him, please?” I’m out of breath. My heart is a heavy bass. My stomach is a slow-burning fire pit now.
“Why?” Donna asks.
“Yeah, why, Fabiola? Why do you want her to call Dray right now?” Chantal asks.
“Is he at that party? I need to know if he’s at that party.” I can’t get all the words out right. My body wants to do something else besides be in this house. I go back into the room and start to look for another sweater.
“What party?” Chantal asks. “The one in Grosse Pointe? Why would he be at that party, Fabiola?”
“Yeah, why would he be at that party?” Pri asks.
Pri is repeating everything Chantal is saying and it’s driving me crazy. I want to yell “shut up.” But I don’t want to say another word.
So I call Kasim again. Nothing.
Chantal grabs me by the shoulders. “Fabiola, why would Dray be at that party? Why do you keep calling Kasim? And why are you talking crazy?”
They all surround me now, and I’m about to explode.
“What did you do, Fabiola?” Chantal asks, with her eyes and her lips trembling.
Chantal drives so fast that I can’t even stand to look out the window. I’m in the passenger seat and I keep my head down on the dashboard, and for a good ten minutes, I forget to put on my seat belt. Their voices beat on me—pounding and pounding. I explain everything—Manman, the detective, what I told Dray. Pri wanted to punch me. She was so close, she was right there in my face—she could have. She didn’t. But she called me every single dirty name she could think of. Chantal is as quiet as death. My head is spinning. Everything is spinning and moving so fast that it makes me sick to my stomach.
My cousins hate me now.
“I’m gonna call him,” Donna says really quiet.
“Don’t fucking call him, D,” Pri says.
“What if he’s there with Kasim? They’ll both get locked up.”
“Dray is not stupid. He’s not going anywhere near the Park. You know that. Too bad she couldn’t figure that out.” Pri kicks the back of my seat.
“And even if he was there, he’d know better than to have anything on him,” Chantal says. She’s been calm, even as she speeds and swerves around cars on the highway.
“So that leaves Kasim. You hear that, Fabulous?” Pri leans toward my seat and yells, “Your man is gonna get locked up ’cause of your dumb ass!”
“Pri, calm down and sit back,” Chantal hisses.
I want to remember Papa Legba’s words now, but it all starts to feel and sound crazy. I need a prayer, a song, but everything now is too real—just as it was during the earthquake in Haiti. Even as people threw their heads back and screamed to God for help, the concrete and dust kept falling. That’s how it is now. If I were to call on God and my lwas, would they hear me? Would they see me in this speeding car holding my head and stomach and begging that Kasim is not arrested?
Something hits me as Chantal exits the highway and the car slows down. Mesi, mesi, mesi, I say to myself, to my lwas, to God. I don’t have my phone, so I ask to borrow Chantal’s.
“Who are you calling?”
“The detective.”
“Nope! Hell no! You fucking kidding me?” they say all at once.
“I will tell her not to arrest Kasim. She knows he’s not Dray. It’s Dray she wanted.”
“Is that what you wanted? You wanted Dray to get locked up so you could get your mother?” Donna asks.
I close my eyes and hang my head low because I’ve betrayed her. Even with everything that Dray has done to her, she still loves him. So betraying Dray was like betraying Donna.