Forged by Fire (10 page)

Jordan didn't even blink. “Now, what kinda greetin' is that for a man who just wants to see his children?” he asked in that gravelly voice that Gerald hated.

“You ain't my daddy, and you don't deserve to be hers!”

“Oh, but I am her daddy, boy, and court says I been rehabilitated. Court says I get visitation rights. Court says you ain't got nothin to say about that!”

“Why you got to come back here and ruin stuff? We're finally almost close to happy, and you show up!” Gerald was almost in tears, but he didn't want Jordan to see him break.

“Your mama is still my wife. She done forgave me. Why can't you? I've changed, boy. I'm a new man!”

Monique seemed flustered and nervous. Jordan sat silent and staring. Finally he got up. His cowboy boots echoed loudly on the smooth wooden floor. Jordan paused at the door. “I'll be back for you tonight, Monique. Wear something pretty!”

Monique blushed and tried to hide her excitement from Gerald, who looked at her with disgust.

“And
you,
” Jordan growled at Gerald, “don't mess with me. I'll be back to visit Angel. I ain't gonna hurt her. I ain't gonna even touch her. I told you I've changed. Let's shake on it like men.” He offered Gerald his rough, dirty hand. Gerald didn't move.

“No,” Gerald stated quietly. He walked into the other room, shaking with fury and helplessness.

Gerald wanted to spit. Instead he just ran out of the room. He knew he had to find Angel. He knocked on her door. He could hear her crying.

“It's me, Gerald. Let me in.” He heard the lock turn and he gently opened the door. Angel's eyes were glassy and unblinking. All of the pain and memories of the past filled her so that only tears and shudders escaped her. Gerald hugged her for a long time. She quieted down gradually and was able to focus on the cat, which she stroked as she shook with swallowed sobs.

“Is he gone?” Angel asked nervously.

Gerald nodded and sighed. Angel, taking deep breaths, made sure she heard the clink of the lock in the outside
door, and ran past Gerald into the bathroom. He wanted to beat something, to cry, to scream, but all he could do was listen to Angel as she threw up the way she used to, the only way she knew to purge the tension of Jordan's presence in the house.

Monique, as usual, was no help. She pretended not to notice Angel's discomfort, or Gerald's hatred. She was fluttery and excited that Jordan was back and that he still wanted her.

Gerald walked back into the living room. Jordan's cologne, which smelled to Gerald like horse sweat, hung strong and overpowering in the small room. “What's the real deal, Monique?”

“Well, Gerald, uh ... Jordan is out and uh ...”

“He can't stay here.”

“No—I mean yes—I agree—at least for now. But you have to give him a chance, Gerald. He's changed. He's gonna try to show you. You gotta try, okay?”

“He can never be alone with Angel.” Gerald's voice was hard and demanding.

“I think that's a good idea for now, Gerald. Let's see if we can all work together to make this a happy family once again.”

“This was never a happy family while he was here, Monique. Your memory don't work so good, it seems.”

She smiled weakly, refused to look Gerald in the eye, and went to fix her hair.

Gerald picked up the telephone.

“Hey, Rob, what's up, man? Is your dad home?”

“Yeah, he's in here acting like he knows how to fix a bathroom sink. Mom told him to call a plumber, but no, he's gotta prove he's Superman. Now we gotta brush our teeth in the kitchen sink. Hey, Dad, telephone. It's Gerald,” called Rob, laughing.

“Hi, Gerald, what's up, son?”

“Hey, Mr. Washington. Sounds like you got plumbing problems.”

“Nothing I can't solve. All I need is one small piece of pipe.”

Gerald could hear groans of laughter coming from the background. Rob's family was always laughing about something—even Mr. Washington's mistakes. Gerald couldn't remember much laughter ever coming from his own house.

“Well, I got some bathroom problems too.” Gerald paused. Rob's dad waited quietly.

“Angel's in there throwing up again. Jordan is back.”

Mr. Washington gasped. “Oh, no! Has he . . . has he done anything?” he asked with severity in his voice.

“No. He's clean—so far, at least. He says he's got rights, but Angel is a nervous wreck. She can't live like this. Don't we have rights too? What can I do?”

“Look, I've got to run out and pick up this pipe. Let me come by and get you. We'll talk.”

“Thanks. I'll be waiting out front.”

Thirty minutes later, Mr. Washington drove up in a new blue Buick. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Actually, it was the same thing that Jordan had been
wearing, but on Jordan it looked sinister and criminal. Rob's dad smiled at Gerald as he opened the car door, laugh marks making walnut brown wrinkles in the sides of his eyes.

“Is Angel okay up there?” he asked, glancing up at the bleak and depressing apartment building.

“Yeah, she's asleep now. And Jordan won't be back for a couple of days.”

“What about Monique?”

Gerald shrugged. “Probably doing her hair for when Jordan comes by later to take her out. That's all she thinks about. She just wants to please him. She doesn't even care, or notice, how upset Angel gets.”

Mr. Washington said nothing, but listened carefully.

“She wants Jordan to move back in. Can they do that?”

Mr. Washington sighed. “Probably so. Especially if Jordan doesn't do anything to get a negative report from probation.”

“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.

T
HAT
S
ATURDAY
, A
NGEL
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.