Part 28 (1/2)

”No!” Deborah screamed, wild-eyed, leaping up and diving onto the folder like it was a fumbled football, hugging it to her chest, curling her body around it.

I sat stunned, hand still reaching toward the pillow where the envelope had been, stammering, ”I... I mean ... I wasn't ...”

”That's right you wasn't!” Deborah snapped. ”What were you gonna do to my mother medical records?!”

”I thought you put them there for me ... I'm sorry ... I don't need to read them now. ... It's fine.”

”We ain't ready for that!” Deborah snapped, her eyes wide and panicked. She grabbed her bag, stuffed all her things back inside it, then ran for the door.

I was stunned. The woman I'd been lying next to for days-laughing, elbowing, consoling-was now running from me like I was out to get her.

”Deborah!” I called after her. ”I'm not trying to do anything bad. I just want to learn your mother's story, same as you.”

She whipped around, her eyes still panicked, ”I don't know who to trust,” she hissed, then ran out the door, slamming it behind her.

CHAPTER 30

Zakariyya

The next day, Deborah called my room from the front desk as if nothing had happened. ”Come on downstairs,” she said. ”It's time you went and talked to Zakariyya. He been askin about you.”

I was not excited to meet Zakariyya. I'd heard several times that of all the Lackses, he was by far the angriest about what happened to his mother, and that he was looking for any revenge he could get. I hoped to see the age of thirty, and it seemed like being the first white person to show up at Zakariyya's apartment asking questions about his mother might interfere with that.

Outside, as I followed Deborah to her car, she said, ”Things never went quite right with Zakariyya after he got out of jail. But don't worry. I'm pretty sure he's ready to talk about our mother again.”

”You're pretty sure?” I said.

”Well, I used to make copies of information about our mother and give it to him, but he got enough to where one day he cuss me out. He ran at me screamin, 'I don't wanna hear no more stuff about my mother and that d.a.m.n doctor who done raped her cells!' We haven't really talked about it since.” She shrugged. ”But he says he's okay with you askin questions today though. We just got to catch him before he start drinkin.”

When we got to Deborah's car, her two grandsons-Davon and Alfred, who were just shy of their eighth and fourth birthdays-sat in the backseat screaming at each other. ”Them are my two little hearts,” Deborah said. They were strikingly beautiful children, with huge smiles and wide, dark eyes. Alfred sat in the back wearing two pairs of jet-black plastic sungla.s.ses, one on top of the other, each about three times too big for his face.

”Miss Rebecca!” he yelled as we climbed into the car. ”Miss Rebecca!”

I turned around. ”Yes?”

”I love you.”

”Thank you.”

I turned back to Deborah, who was telling me how I shouldn't say something or other around Zakariyya.

”Miss Rebecca! Miss Rebecca!” Alfred yelled again, slowly pus.h.i.+ng both pairs of sungla.s.ses down to the tip of his nose and wiggling his eyebrows at me.

”You're mine,” he said.

”Oh knock that off!” Deborah yelled, swatting at him from the front seat. ”Oh Lord, he just like his father, Mr. Ladies' Man.” She shook her head. ”My son always out rippin and runnin them streets, drinkin and druggin just like his father. I worry he gonna get himself in trouble-I don't know what gonna happen to Little Alfred then. I'm afraid he learnin too much already.” Little Alfred was always beating up on Davon, even though Davon was older and bigger, but Davon never hit back without Deborah's permission.