Forged by Fire by Sharon M. Draper
“I heard him tell Monique that he got a job, and reports to his probation officer right on time. He even volunteers at an old-folks home once a week, just to make it look good. But I know he hasn’t changed. I just know it.”
“I wish I could be more help, Gerald,” Mr. Washington replied with real regret. “Watch him. Try keeping a diary of his activities. It might be important later. Write down everything he does, even if it seems innocent.”
“Well, at least that will give me something to do, but what about Angel?”
“Do you think Monique would let Angel spend the night at our house sometimes? She and Kiara really seem to hit it off when they’re together. I know Kiara would love to have some company—there aren’t any girls her age on our street.”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
“It’s not a problem. For that matter, why don’t you come and spend some time with Rob? Maybe after the game this weekend, you and Angel can come over. That will give you both a break from this mess for a little bit, and Monique can spend time alone with Jordan. I know she’ll agree if you put it that way.”
“Yeah, she won’t care. That’s the problem. She just doesn’t care.”
The days that followed were tense, but quiet. Jordan stopped by around dinnertime, and always left by nine o’clock. On Saturday, he stayed most of the afternoon, going to the grocery store for Monique and even sweeping the living room. He spoke to Angel only to ask her about school or dancing. Gerald watched him every moment, and true to a promise he made to himself, he never let Angel out of his sight while Jordan was there. Still, she was nervous when Jordan was there and usually threw up when he left.
SEVENTEEN
THAT SATURDAY, ANGEL went to Gerald’s game and sat with Rob’s sister Kiara. They cheered, ate popcorn, and paid more attention to the other kids than to the game. Angel and Kiara, dressed in matching jeans and shirts, walked back and forth to the refreshment stand ten or fifteen times, giggling and hoping they were being noticed. It was the first time Gerald had seen her happy since Jordan’s return, and he was glad. Gerald had made several key shots early in the game and he felt like he could breathe again.
Jordan and Monique arrived late—shortly after the first quarter. Jordan’s hard, sharp-toed cowboy boots clomped loudly on the wooden gym floor. People who glanced at him saw a tall, angry black man, dressed in black jeans, black T-shirt, and shiny black boots. Monique, overdressed as usual, wore a shiny gold top with tight black stretch pants and black heels.
“He looks like a hit man,” giggled Kiara to Angel. Angel glanced at Jordan and shuddered. She did not laugh. Even across the gym, it seemed she could smell his stifling cologne.
From that moment on, Gerald had a terrible game. He was nervous and missed every shot he attempted.
“What’sa matter with you, Nickelby?” shouted the coach. “You eat rocks for dinner? Take a break. Smith, fill in for Gerald.”
Gerald hated the bench, and he hated Jordan. Jordan seemed to sneer at him from across the gym, feeling Gerald’s hatred and laughing at it. Monique seemed uncomfortable. She kept looking at her watch and then at Jordan to see how he was reacting, not to the game, but to her. He glanced at her once and smiled. Monique blushed with pleasure and checked her watch again. She paid no attention to Angel and Kiara. She paid no attention to the game. When the team came back on the floor after halftime, Jordan and Monique had gone.
On the way to Rob’s house after the game, Gerald was silent. Angel and Kiara giggled in the backseat about boys and makeup and movie stars. He was glad she had a chance to act normal, but even Rob’s good humor couldn’t break him out of his deep feeling of trouble to come. Gerald knew it was only a matter of time.
The night of Angel’s dance recital was stormy and overcast, but her excitement made the evening seem almost sunny. So did the garlands of flowers with which the school auditorium had been decorated for the evening. Angel had invited Kiara to the recital, and the Washingtons, since they had to drop Kiara off anyway, decided to stay. Gerald was amazed, but they looked comfortable and relaxed as they chatted with Monique while they waited for the show to begin. Monique was the one who looked agitated—and overdressed. No other mother came to the recital dressed in red sequins. She kept looking back at the door, checking for Jordan, who had promised to come.
Angel was smiling, but nervous. Her yellow costume and gold crown looked beautiful. Gerald smiled as he chatted with her by the backstage curtains. “You look like a princess, Angel. You’ll do just fine. Relax.”
“Do you think he’ll come?” she whispered.
“I hope not,” Gerald replied grimly.
“Is Kiara here? And Rob?” Angel really liked Rob. He could always make her laugh.
“Yeah, she’s here, sitting with her mom and Monique. Rob and Andy went out with their girlfriends tonight.”
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” teased Angel.
“Me? Trouble is, I like ’em all. I haven’t figured out which one is gonna be the lucky one yet.”
Angel giggled and pretended to punch him. Her teacher called from backstage, and Angel blew Gerald a quick kiss. He reached out, pretended to catch the invisible kiss, smacked the side of his cheek, and grinned. She smiled at him and disappeared behind the curtain.
The crowd hushed, the lights were lowered, and the music began. Dancers filled the stage, delicately moving with the music, filling the room with magic.
“I wonder where Jordan is,” muttered Monique, who spent more time watching the door than the stage.
Gerald ignored her.
“Where’s Angel, Gerald?” whispered Kiara, who was sitting on his other side.
“Sh-sh-sh. Here she comes.”
The stage was dark for a moment, and silent; then suddenly, with a burst of golden light and an orchestral overture from the CD player behind the curtain, Angel stepped onto the stage.
The story she danced was about a lost child, a child who feared the darkness but found the light with the help of the wind and the stars. It was as if the dance had been created just for her. As she danced, Gerald could feel her pain; he could see her fear and misery. The music was her voice, and the dance was her only means of escape.
When the music finally stopped, the audience reacted with stunned silence; the dance had been so beautiful and expressive. Gradually, the applause grew from very small to a thunderous standing ovation for the little girl who took her bows with tears in her eyes.
Gerald was so proud of her he was about to explode. He clapped so hard that his hands hurt. He cheered. He whistled. He stomped his feet.
“Wow, Gerald!” shouted Mr. Washington over the deafening applause. “I didn’t know she was such a beautifully talented girl. We’re so glad we came.”
Kiara, who hadn’t really been into ballet, cheered as well, admiring her new friend’s talents. Angel was going to spend the night with Kiara after the show. Her parents had promised they could go get ice cream, rent a video, and sleep as late as they wanted the next morning.
Monique clapped also, but she seemed nervous and kept looking over her shoulder toward the back of the auditorium. Jordan had not arrived.
“He’ll be sorry he missed this,” she whispered to Gerald.
“I’m glad he did. It would dirty a beautiful moment for Angel.”
“Don’t be so mean, Gerald. Hasn’t he been a perfect gentleman since he’s been out? Hasn’t he tried to show you that he’s sorry and he’s changed? You gotta learn to forgive and forget!”
Gerald sighed. Monique would never see, because she didn’t want to see. Yes, Jordan had been acting perfectly. But Gerald was sure that it was just that—an act. He did not trust Jordan Sparks.
EIGHTEEN
WHEN SCHOOL LET out for the summer, Monique let Jordan move back into the apartment. Angel was sullen and quiet; Gerald was angry, but helpless. Jordan went out of his way to be polite and non-threatening. In the five months since he had gotten out of prison, he
Angel talked to Kiara on the phone almost daily, and that seemed to help her depression and concern. She no longer threw up every day, but she stayed nervous and tense.
It was hot in the small apartment and Gerald was restless. He wanted to go play basketball with his friends, but he was afraid to leave the house. While he felt it was his job to protect Angel, he also needed to get out.
“Monique, I’m gonna go hoop for a little bit. You keep an eye out for Angel for me?”
“Sure, Gerald. Go ahead. You worry too much. She’ll be fine. I’ll make sure. Go—have some fun with your friends.” She was watching TV. Jordan was not there.
Gerald let Angel know he was going. She looked a little worried, but she told him, “Get out of here. You can’t stay here for the rest of your life lookin’ out for me. I can take care of myself. And besides, he has been behaving himself.” She sighed. “When I grow up and become a famous dancer, I’m gonna move far, far away from here.”
Gerald smiled at her and left, dribbling his basketball, wishing he could bounce all of his fears and troubles away. He played for a couple of hours and returned, hot and sweaty, but more relaxed. He decided to take a cool shower and maybe look for a job in the morning.
When Gerald reached the apartment, the door was open and he could see nothing but dark silence. His heart began to beat faster as he tiptoed into the darkness. No sound, no light, no movement.
“Angel?” he whispered softly. “Monique?” Nothing.
Gerald was so scared he felt sick. If something has happened to Angel, Gerald thought, I’ll go crazy!
Why had he left the house? What could have happened? Where was everybody? And where was Jordan Sparks?
Gerald almost ran to Angel’s bedroom, feeling his way in the darkness. He was so afraid, so very afraid of what he might find. “Angel!” he screamed in fear. “Angel! Where are you?”
“I’m over here, Gerald,” called Angel’s voice. “I’m okay. The electricity went off and me and Tiger were just sitting here in the dark, trying not to be scared.”
Relieved, Gerald began to breathe again. “But where’s Monique?”
“Oh, she said she had to get some cigarettes for Jordan. She left just before the lights went off. She said she’d be right back, but she’s been gone for over an hour, I think.”
“Has Jordan been here?” asked Gerald, just to make sure.
“No, he’s been out all evening, thank goodness. Just me and Tiger. I’m glad you’re home. I was scared.”
“Me too. Can you imagine what I thought when I saw the door standing open and the lights off? I wonder why Monique didn’t remember to shut and lock the door.”
“You know how she is when she’s around Jordan,” Angel replied. “She gets so excited and flustered. He called and said he’d be home by midnight and he wanted her to go get him some cigarettes. Why can’t he go and get his own stupid smokes?”
As she spoke, the power was restored and the lights came back on. Gerald and Angel grinned at each other, just a little ashamed of their fears of the darkness. It was then that Gerald became aware of the sirens.
Fire and emergency sirens were commonplace in the neighborhood—the city’s largest hospital was just around the corner. But sirens in the distance and sirens right on the corner have two different sounds. These sirens were close.
Gerald looked out of their sixth-floor window. He couldn’t see much. “You and Tiger stay here, Angel. And lock the door when I leave. I’m going downstairs to see what’s going on. Something has happened on the corner. I’ll be right back.”
Angel nodded. As Gerald ran down the six flights of steps, his fear expanded like a balloon in his chest. A crowd had already gathered by the time he reached the corner. A tall, bearded taxi driver stood weeping in the street. “I didn’t see her. I didn’t see her,” he kept repeating. “She was running—like she was in a hurry! She ran right in front of me! I didn’t see her. I swear I didn’t see her!”
The paramedics were lifting the victim into the ambulance. She did not seem to be breathing. It was Monique. Clutched in one hand was a pack of cigarettes.
“Does anybody know this lady?” a policeman asked the crowd.
Gerald’s voice at first failed him. He finally spoke loud enough to be heard. “She’s my mother,” he said helplessly.
NINETEEN
ANGEL WOKE UP screaming. “Mama!” she gasped. Gerald, asleep in the next room, ran to Angel immediately. “It’s okay, Angel. Mama is gonna be okay. It’s just gonna take some time. Now go back to sleep. It’s three in the morning.”
Angel relaxed a bit and went back to sleep. She often had episodes like this since the accident. Gerald watched her for a few minutes before he turned off her light. She had grown thinner and was almost a waxy pale. He thought she might need a doctor. What he knew she needed was some stability and a release from fear.
Monique had not been killed that night two weeks ago. Although most of her injuries were around her face and head, she had quickly regained consciousness. She seemed dazed and confused, but was well enough to ask about Jordan.
“You seen Jordan? Is he okay?”
“He’s not here, Monique. He doesn’t even know you’re here. I don’t know where he is,” replied Gerald curtly.
“How’d you get here? Where’s Angel?” Monique looked confused.
“I’m here, Mama,” Angel said tearfully. “We rode in the ambulance. Don’t you remember?”
“No. Uh, when you see Jordan, tell him... tell him...” She faded into sleep again. Gerald looked at Angel and smiled grimly.
“Well, at least we know she’s okay. Are you all right?”
Angel nodded, but she was jumpy and anxious. When she ran to the bathroom suddenly, Gerald knew that she was more upset than she wanted to admit. She was vomiting again.
Monique was released the next morning. Jordan never even bothered to come to the hospital. When Angel and Gerald helped the weakened Monique walk up the six flights of steps, they found Jordan half asleep on the living room couch.
“How you feel, Monique?” he inquired sleepily. “Neighbor told me what happened. I was just on my way down to the hospital. How’d you get home?”
Gerald and Angel stared coldly at Jordan and refused to answer. Monique, still fluttery in spite of her injuries, smiled at him from under her head bandage and told him, “Ms. Walker next door gave me a ride. No problem. I knew you were coming. See, kids—I told you he was coming.”
Angel and Gerald said nothing.
Suddenly Monique looked around wildly. “Gerald! What happened to them cigarettes? I remember now. I went to get cigarettes for you, Jordan. I bet them ambulance men took them cigarettes. I’m sorry, Jordan. I got ’em for you just like you said.”
“It’s okay, baby,” Jordan crooned in his rocky voice. “You can get me some more another time, when you get better. Come sit here by me.” He patted a spot on the sofa.
Monique grinned with relief and happiness. Jordan glanced at Gerald as he put his arm around her, and gave him a hard, cold smile that said, “I can do anything I want. You can’t stop me.”
Gerald, helpless for the moment, looked away, but he thought, Maybe you’re wrong, Jordan Sparks. You just might be wrong.
Several days after the accident, Angel sat in a corner of her bedroom, stroking her cat and staring silently into space. Even Gerald couldn’t get her to smile.
“Come on, Angel, Monique could be dead. She’s just hurt and she’s healing slowly—I think from the inside out. Give it time.”
Angel sighed. “If she dies. . . doesn’t make it, Gerald, all we got is Jordan. I can’t bear to even think about it, and that’s all I been doing lately.”
“M
Angel just stared out of the window and stroked her sleeping cat. Finally Gerald had an idea. He put a tape into her little cassette player and pushed PLAY. It was the music to the dance she’d performed just a few months before. Angel at first refused to notice, but as the beauty of the music grew in intensity, all of the pain and memories of her past grew within her. She wept. She cried until she had no tears left. Finally, she stood up and moved lightly to the final strains of the melody.
“Thanks, Gerald,” she said quietly. “I’m gonna be okay.”
“I know, Angel. You know you always got me.”
She smiled at him. “Yeah, I know that. But first I gotta make sure I got hold of me.”
“What about Jordan?” Gerald asked her. “Looks like we’re stuck with him, at least for now.”
“I think he really cares about Mama, in his own twisted way. He seems like he’s trying to do right, and he doesn’t bother me anymore, so we’ll just have to wait and see.”
“Yeah, but I still don’t trust him.”
“Me neither,” Angel replied with a shudder.
Rob’s father called a couple of weeks after the accident.
“What’s up, Gerald? How’s your mom?”
“Well, the cuts and bruises have healed mostly, but she’s like not all here yet. She’s like a shadow instead of a real person.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s like part of her is sorta unplugged. She knows us, and talks to us, but it seems like she’s always floating somewhere ... else. It’s hard to put into words.”
“Is she in any pain?”
“She keeps insisting that her head hurts or her back is on fire, but that’s only when she runs out of her pain pills. Jordan kept her supplied with refills of her prescription, and when the doctor wouldn’t give her any more, he brought these weird-lookin’ shiny red pills and these bright blue-and-yellow pills that I ain’t never seen before.”