Chapter 8

Breathe. Just breathe.

The cameras, the microphones…this was a lot. People called me an introvert. I was quiet, but never shy; they were two different things. While other kids were always loud, and voicing their opinions about what they would and wouldn’t do, I kept most of my thoughts in my head. But, when asked to do something that others might feel uncomfortable doing, I stepped up to the plate.

Danielle Banks, a church member and one of the local broadcast journalists, reached out to me about doing an interview, to spread the word that Brian’s murderer had not been caught and about the $10,000 reward. Someone knew where he was; helping him to hide.

I sat and watched as the production team staged my living room.

Carrying my favorite vase with both hands, Tracy asked, “Can the flowers fit in here?”

Danielle’s assistants brought gorgeous flowers that could only bloom in June. Pictures of Brian and me, Brian and his team, and Brian, alone, were placed behind and beside my chair. They said that we should have the interview here so people would think of Brian the way he lived. They would interview neighbors and of course, talk to a few of the boys who played for Brian.

“Lachelle. Lachelle.”

Danielle gently stroked my arm to bring me out of my daze. I turned my focus to her. Danielle Banks was the journalist everyone in D.C. loved. Not only was she pretty, but she was smart. She could interview the mayor and those in the most underserved communities in the city, with respect and compassion.

“How are you feeling?” Danielle's melodic voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

"I'm okay, a little nervous but ready."

Hugging me, she confirmed my thoughts. "You're doing what's best in this situation. You are bringing a personal touch to Brian's story. This plea from you may touch someone's heart to share information that might bring Brian's murderer to justice. Is there anything more you want to share with us? Anything more that you’d like to highlight?"

Well, I could tell the world that I was about six weeks pregnant. How's that for sympathy? But, I wasn't looking for sympathy. I wanted justice.

“No, I think you know everything.” “Okay, let's get you mic'd up.”

The production assistant found the best spot for the microphone on my blouse so the audience wouldn't see it.

The director yelled, "Five minutes before taping. Everyone in your places."

Tracy noticed me pulling my earlobe, something I often did when I was nervous. Sitting down next to me, her authoritative voice gave me strength. "You've got this."

I knew I could do it. I had to do it. Just when we were about to begin the interview, there was a knock at the door. I didn't want to move with the microphone on. Tracy looked at me and nodded toward the door, asking if she should open it.

Once Tracy opened it, I heard her before I saw her.

"Tracy," I heard my sister-in-law's greeting. Then her volume increased, and her attitude entered the room before she did. "Gurl, get outta my way. This was my brother's house. I can come in here wheneva I want to."

I knew Tracy wasn't going to take that laying down, company or no company. I asked the production assistant to take my microphone off.

Danielle looked worried.

"I'll be right back. Give me a few minutes, and we can get started."

Danielle's forced smile told me she was worried. Hurrying past the camera crew, I attempted to step in front of Keisha.

Key word: attempted.

When the smell of weed almost knocked me down, I knew this wouldn't go well.

"What's going on here?" Keisha asked as she surveyed the room.

I guess Brian’s death wasn’t going to change anything. Saying hello to me seemed to kill her. After looking around the room she turned her head to me and stared me down like I owed her an explanation.

After twelve years of marriage, I understood that she had no interest in being my friend. So why is she here?

“What y’all doing?” Keisha asked again, still staring while sitting down next to Danielle, crossing her legs like she was an invited guest.

“Why don’t you leave, nobody is checking for you,” Tracy said as she stepped closer to the love seat.

Talking to Tracy, but focusing on me, she declared, “I ain’t going nowhere. You got Brian’s insurance money yet? I know he wanted me to have some.”

Keisha turned her glance and finally noticed who was sitting next to her. “Ohhh snap, you dat lady that we see on the news all the time.”

Extending her hand, Danielle’s humbleness filled the room, “Yes, I’m Danielle Banks. How are you?”

Attempting to make this introduction more formal, I stepped in.

“Keisha, this is Danielle Banks a friend and a news reporter for NBC. Danielle, this is Keisha, my sister-in-law.” “Yes, I’m Brian’s sister.”

Before she could say any more, I continued, “We’re taping a segment that will be aired to try to get someone to step up and share any information they may have about the whereabouts of Brian’s murderer.”

I could tell by the way Keisha’s glazed over eyes started moving that she was thinking. I tried to preempt any crazy thoughts from entering her head.

“Keisha, do you mind going into the den while we do the interview? It won’t take long. We can talk after it’s over.”

“I should be in the interview, too. I can talk ‘bout Ma and how this has broken her heart. I know you have something that I can put on.”

“Gurl, don’t nobody want your stank…”

“Tracy!” I yelled not only with my voice but with my eyes. “Who you calling stank? I know your track record? You ain’t no better than me,” Keisha shot back, jumping up out of the love seat. In one motion she was in Tracy’s face. No one moved, but everyone’s eyes followed her.

At this point, I knew the interview wasn’t going to happen today. Keisha wasn’t going anywhere, and the crew had to be someplace else, soon. Danielle had squeezed us into her schedule.

Tracy, with her hands on her hips and head cocked to the side, begged Keisha to hit her, without saying one word.

“Tracy and Keisha, please let me talk to Danielle for a minute. Can you both go into the den?”

Neither of them moved. If they were in the street, a smackdown would’ve already ensued. They knew better in my house.

“Please y’all, just let me talk to Danielle for a minute.”

Tracy moved first, stepping to the side so Keisha could go past. Keisha whipped her weave and stomped into the den.

Exhaling then sitting down next to Danielle, I said, “I don’t think today will be a good day to do this. I appreciate you for encouraging me.”

“We will do this. I’ll call you in a few days to set something up.”

We hugged, and I watched as the camera crew packed everything up. I wondered if they were packing up hope of catching Brian’s murderer, too.

Tracy led Keisha from the den after she heard the door close.

“Oh, your company left?” Keisha’s sarcasm fell on deaf ears. I decided not to say anything to her because it wouldn’t have been nice.

As I walked to the staircase that led to my bedroom, I spoke to Tracy. “I’m going upstairs to chill for little while. Tracy please lock the door after Keisha leaves.”

“Oh! I’ve been put out of better places.”

Whatever.

Tracy stayed the night at my house. She fell asleep in the living room watching Real Housewives reruns, all franchises. Not me, though. Leaving Tracy in the living room, I put our popcorn bowls into the sink and tip-toed up the steps to my bedroom, careful not to wake her. I hurried to my closet where I hid Brian’s pillow. It smelled so much like his cologne, still. I hid it so neither Tracy nor Vanessa would wash it, stripping me of Brian’s scent.

After stepping out of my sweats, I climbed into the bed. My body extended into a long stretch before curling up in a fetal position with Brian’s pillow. I inhaled as much of him as I could. The only light in the room was the red numbers on the clock screaming 12:40 and tomorrow was my first day back to work. I needed to sleep. After I pulled the covers back on his side of the bed, I rolled over and tucked myself in. Sirens cut through the peace of the night. Then there was silence…and Brian.

He was at that grill in the backyard flipping hamburgers. I ran to him, but with every step I took, he moved farther away. Then he was coaching his team. The faster I ran down the bleachers toward the football field, the farther away he moved. Then he was outside of Ben’s and this time; I ran out of the door. Again, as I ran toward him, the scene moved farther away. Then there was a boom. It caused me to shoot straight up in my bed, but reaching for Brian just like I was in my dream.

Would this ever end? Maybe I needed to read some scriptures. My Bible stayed inside of the top drawer of my nightstand. I turned to reach for the handle and slid the drawer open. I pulled it out and flipped the pages hoping a scripture would jump out at me. Nothing did. I couldn’t believe that God would do this to me, taking the love of my life away from me. One minute I was happy, looking forward to the future and the next minute I was questioning what kind of future I would have without Brian.

I’d never felt this alone and separated from God in my life, not even after Christian died. Maybe I was destined to be alone; no Christian, no Brian and no God.

I threw the Bible at the foot of my bed. My chest heaved up and down as I moaned and cried into Brian’s pillow. After what seemed like an hour, my eyes commanded my body to sleep because there were no more tears to cry.