Page 20 of A Trial of the Heart

Chapter

Twenty

Rashad:

I looked around the gymnasium of my youth center, ensuring everything was in place for when we opened in the morning before turning off the lights.

I had a few hours before I was due to be at Shiloh’s house, so I had plans to run home, shower, grab her some flowers, and head there.

When I texted her earlier and she gave her address, I just knew it was a joke until I used Google Maps.

Even though the place was real, I was still going in like she may play me in the end, but something about it told me she wasn’t.

Stepping out of the youth center, the hot summer night’s dry heat rushed my skin, causing the sweat to instantly form.

Virginia typically had hot summers, but this summer had been record breaking, sweltering, unbearable heat.

It had been so bad that the kids had to have all inside activities.

My senses were always alert because my pops taught my brother and me to be aware of our surroundings from a young age. My guard had never come down. An eerie feeling took over, so I knew I wasn’t alone. Just as I stood to my full height from locking the door, I turned and looked at Lauryn.

“What are you doing here?”

She looked the same yet so different. Lauryn’s normal bronze skin lacked color, and the 50 percent melanin that her body housed seemed to be nonexistent.

Her normal kept hair seemed a bit matted, and her designer clothes appeared to be on its third wear without a wash.

Lauryn’s beauty was still there. One would just have to squint with one eye and tilt their head, and it could be seen.

“Rashad, I’m sorry. I fucked up. Please, baby. I miss you.” Even her voice sounded different.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. She had the audacity.

“You sorry? You fucked up? You miss me?” I repeated back in disbelief.

“Do you not realize you have fucked my life up, Lauryn? This shit you did isn’t something you can say sorry about.

This is my job, my life, my reputation, and you messed it all up because I told you I wanted to end things?

Ain’t no way you was brave enough to waltz ya ass here to even give an apology and damn sure not looking like ol’ ‘Holiday I Got the Bike’ head ass. ”

Lauryn gasped. I wasn’t sure if it was for the insult referring to her as Wanda from Holiday Heart or just in general.

“Rashad, please.” She reached out to touch me.

Instinctively, I jerked my hand back like she had the black plague.

Lauryn couldn’t touch me any longer. I’d broken up with her, and instead of crying with a friend over ice cream, blowing my phone up, or even slashing my tires, she came for my character and everything I worked for.

Even when I beat the case, she couldn’t touch me from miles away with someone else’s body parts.

“Man, get the hell from round here.”

“Rasha—”

“Get the fuck from round her, Lauryn, or you’re gonna be the next one they haul away from here in handcuffs.”

Though no more words came from Lauryn, she didn’t move right away.

She stared at me, looking as though she was hoping I’d have a change of heart.

I had nothing else for her. Watching her walk away, my mind drifted back to the day I had been arrested in this very building in front of my kids and staff.

It was one of the most embarrassing days of my life.

“Go, Mr. Carter, go!” My teammates cheered me on as I rounded the bases swiftly after kicking the ball into the outfield.

It was a Friday afternoon, and like most afternoons, I was having fun. Today happened to be a nice, friendly game of kickball. The youth I mentored at my center ranged between seven and sixteen. I loved each of them as my own.

“I love you, but you weren’t getting a homerun.” Weston, one of the older boys that was the pitcher from the other team, teased as I’d been stopped at second base.

Growing up, I had a great childhood, but because my parents were so big on education, most of my time had been spent inside studying. Being around my youth at the center healed parts of my childhood I didn’t know needed healing.

“Oh, this is about to be easy. Pitch it to her slow, Weston. She can’t kick. Let’s get this last out!” Casey, one of the opposing team’s members, shouted from outfield.

“Bring it home, Precious!” I hollered out from second base. “Don’t let their words get to you. You’re dope.”

Each one of my youths were special in their own way. Some were quieter than others but still amazing. Through mentoring them, I learned how to manage each of them and tailored to their needs.

Precious happened to be one of the quieter ones. She was sweet as pie but tended to stay to herself.

“I got this.” She smiled my way. Her little arm raised as her polished fingernail pointed to the outfield. “You ready to run, Mr. Carter?” she asked quietly.

I chuckled. She was shy but competitive.

“Taking off like Flash.”

“Look alive, people!” Weston shouted to his teammates. “Let’s get this over with,” he taunted Precious.

Getting into position, Weston forcefully rolled the ball, and once it reached Precious, she kicked it but missed, and everyone including her laughed.

“It’s okay. Take your time.” I encouraged her with a clap.

Once the ball was back in Weston’s possession, he pitched the ball again, and this time, Precious kicked it, but it was a foul ball.

Precious only had one more kick. I was rooting for her and had faith.

Most times when we played, she either struck out, or someone got her out.

The play was set, and I was ready to take off once the ball was kicked, even if someone caught the ball or tagged her out.

Things seemed to go in slow motion as Weston rolled the ball, and it spun its way down center, heading for home plate.

Precious was eager. Her tongue hung out to the side as she anticipated the kick and clocked her steps.

When her foot connected with the ball, it went over Weston’s head and down into the outfield where one of the players failed to catch it. I took off, and so did Precious.

Crossing home plate, I looked to Precious, and her little legs were moving in overdrive.

“Let’s go!”

I cheered along with the other kids on our team. She was heading home when the ball was handed to Percy. Percy was a ten-year-old competitive fifth grader that had an arm on him and could launch things far.

“Go Precious, go!” everyone shouted.

With determination, Precious reached fourth base, dropping her head a bit to miss the ball Percy had thrown and slid her way into home plate, kicking dust up in the process.

“Safe!” Janice, one of the counselors, shouted. We had won the game.

We cheered, laughed, and told Precious how proud of her we were when the noise seemed to fade almost instantly.

“What’s wr—” I slowly turned and didn’t finish my words as four officers stood before me.

Just from their body language alone, I could tell three of them were chill, but it was one that had a look in his eyes. He even already had his hand resting on his gun as if he was itching to use it for any reason.

Working with youth that faced a lot of obstacles, I’d seen a handful of them arrested and locked away for years.

My team and I would do everything in our power to keep them on the right path but sometimes the streets were more addicting and swallowed them whole.

Assuming the uniformed officers were there for one of the kids, I braced myself for who.

“Can I help y’all?”

“We’re looking for a Mr. Kyan Carter.”

“I’m him.” It never dawned on me to ask why they’d be looking for me. After all, I was an honest, stand-up guy that hadn’t had so much as a parking ticket.

“I’m gonna need you to put your hands behind your back.” The one officer that had his hand on his weapon stepped up, pulling out his handcuffs instantly.

“Hol’ up. For what?”

I pulled my arm back. I hadn’t been read my rights or explained the reason for the arrest, yet he was trying to put his hands on me.

That little step back move must have pissed him off or embarrassed him because he almost fell.

Either way, things escalated quickly. Soon after, the other three officers jumped in, and the scuffle began.

It was more so them than me. Moments after the initial contact, I was placed in cuffs, read my rights, and told the list of charges. Resisting arrest was added.

As I walked through my center then outside to the patrol car, all my youth watched in fear, agony, and anger.

They shouted a few things, and I simply instructed them to listen to the other staff.

Though I held my head high, I was beyond embarrassed.

I tried my hardest to keep them from the streets, and there I was being arrested as an innocent man in front of them.

Feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket brought me back to the present moment.

The arrest had been almost a year ago. Lauryn said she’d make my life a living hell that day I put her out the center, and she was getting the job done.

She’d been so bitter that she had some fake charges put on me.

I wasn’t sure how she managed to even get the case to stick for the district attorney to bring about charges, but she had.

I knew I was innocent, but I knew the way the law worked.

If they could convict even without evidence, they would.

So, no matter how many times Lauryn apologized or came by, there was no way I was forgiving her. She’d fucked up. Shaking my head, I headed for my car without bothering to check my phone. I still had to get ready for Shiloh’s.