This was all a long time ago. Squeaks is probably dead or in jail by now, a hardened criminal. Once, though, he was a sweet little boy. And that’s how I prefer to remember him.
Time passed. I never did find those kids. I got caught up in other people’s lives, and little by little I forgot about Jamal and Chantay.
The city is a machine that never stops grinding. It seems to make two different kinds of people. One kind lead charmed lives in safe neighborhoods. They have lots of expensive things. Maybe they think they’re happy. I don’t know. I don’t concern myself with them, because they don’t need me.
I care for the other kind of people, the ones who get chewed up by the machine and spit out. Their lives are broken from the very start. They come through the shelter in an endless parade. Victims, addicts, hookers, homeless people. Hungry, hurt children. These are the people I work with. These are the ones who share my world.
I was tired all the time now. It was getting harder and harder to get out of bed in the morning. I figured I was just weak in the spirit. So I prayed for strength. And I kept on doing the work I had been called to do.
One day a woman came in. I could tell right away she was an addict. She had that crazed look in her yellowed eyes. Her hair was tangled and snarled, a wig of snakes. She was missing a couple of teeth. She could hardly walk straight. She was wearing highcut shorts and a low-cut shirt. Big spiky heels. So she was a working girl. I got ready for whatever was about to happen.
She stood there in front of me, weaving and staring.
“Can I help you, sister?” I said. “You need a place to stay?”
“Don’t you know me, Mother?” she said.
“Have we met before?” I asked.
She cackled.
“I guess we have,” she said. “Long time ago now.”
I searched my memory.
“Chantay,” I said. “Is that you?”
“See, I knew you remembered.”
“Chantay, how long has it been?” I did some math in my head. I had last seen her three years ago. That would make her seventeen. The woman before me now looked at least twice that age. The machine was grinding on her hard.
“Can I get me a sandwich?”
I took her back to one of the tables and got her a meal. Then I sat down across from her. She had a hard time eating, like it was painful for her to chew.
“I looked all over for you, you know,” I said. “I looked high and low.”
“Yeah, I been livin’ the good life,” she said. “Got me a penthouse and a Ferrari. All kindsa boyfriends.”
“Chantay,” I said, “where is your baby?”
“My…baby?” Her expression changed, and she put down her sandwich. “Why you askin’ me that?”
“Last I saw you, you were pregnant.”
“That seems like a million years ago,” she said. “I dunno where that baby is. Maybe you best ask Jamal.”
“Jamal? Where is he?”
“He out there,” said Chantay, waving her arm. “Still doin’ his crazy thing.”
“Why would he know where your baby is?”
“He came one night and took him,” said Chantay. “Told me I wasn’t fit to keep him. He was gonna raise him up himself. Train him in his ways.”
“What ways?”
“His crazy-talkin’ ways,” said Chantay. “You know how Jamal was.”
“So Jamal is all right? He’s safe?”
“All right? He just as crazy as ever,” said Chantay. “Talkin’ ’bout angels and demons fightin’ over the city. He seein’ things.”
“But where has he been all this time?”
“He been livin’ with that dude,” Chantay said. “You know.”
“What dude?” I asked, though I knew what she was going to say.
“The dude who wears all them raggedy clothes and the big hat,” Chantay said. “Carries them two suitcases around. Dealin’ out food and punishment.”
“Stop it right now, Chantay,” I said. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this foolishness again.” I had forgotten the chill I felt when I learned of Mrs. Mingus’s death. My practical side had taken over again. But now I could feel that weird feeling creeping over me once more. The tiny seed of wonder that had been planted long before was still there.
“I seen him myself, Mother,” said Chantay. “He was with Jamal that night. He told me if I didn’t give them my baby, he was gonna do the same thing to me what he done to that Mrs. Mingus lady.”
“Are you saying you believe Jacky Wacky killed Mrs. Mingus?”
“He opened up that black suitcase on her,” she said. She began to cry. “Just like he did to my mama. They got my baby, and they raisin’ him up in some weird place. Up in the clouds. The place where magic happens.”
She was starting to rave now. I tried to get her to come lie down on one of the beds for a while, because she looked exhausted. But instead she went into the bathroom and locked herself in there for a good twenty minutes. When I finally jiggled the lock open, she was sitting on the toilet, quickly stuffing something back in her pocket. The air had a nasty chemical smell. I knew what that was.
“Chantay, you have to leave right now,” I said. “You can’t be smoking crack here.”
“Aw, c’mon,” she said. “Just a little pick-me-up.”
“No. You must go. Or I’ll call the police.”
I had to be strict with her, because there were other people in the shelter. Mothers and their children. I had a duty to them to keep them safe. Drugs had no place in our haven. I took Chantay by the arm and pulled her toward the door.
“I’mma sue you for touchin’ me!” she screamed.
“Get out, Chantay,” I said. “Come back when you’re clean.”
I let go of her when she was out on the street again. She turned and looked at me, her eyes wide and angry. A stream of filth and gibberish poured out of her mouth. I won’t repeat it here.
“Are you done?”
“Jacky Wacky gonna get you too!” she said.
“I fear only the Almighty,” I told her. “If something happens to me, it’s because it’s written in the Book. Not because of some urban legend.”
“Goodbye, Mother!” she croaked. “You won’t see me again!”
“You can come back anytime,” I said. “But you have to be clean. That’s the rule.”
“You won’t see me again!” she repeated.
And I didn’t.
I don’t know what happened to Chantay, but I can guess. Same thing that’s happened to thousands of girls in this city. The machine just keeps grinding them until there’s nothing left.