Page 44 of The Perfect Verse
“I know.”
He still wanted her to drop. He also wanted to see if she was up for speaking at the next graduation for his current inpatient clients. They had two more weeks before their phase one of drug rehabilitation was up. Some stepped down into transitional housing if there were conditions based on their criminal history, while others were set free into the real world to fully work their steps without the protective walls of peers and professionals that could guide them.
Kaleela wasted no time. Years ago, she’d dreaded taking them. She’d become clammy, anxious, even angry. She still had her moments when she craved the warm, smooth taste of any brown liquor, but her reward was waking up, hearing Rell and Travis giggling and playing in their bedroom. Once she was done, she sealed the sample, washed her hands, and made her way back to his office.
“I see that little smug look on your face. Something tells me that while you’ve ghosted my ass, your time was well spent doing the work. What step?” he asked.
“Steps,” she emphasized. “Four, Five… Eight.” Eight was the hardest, and was the reason she landed at the studio that day. Her list, however, was much longer and filled with nameless faces she sold drugs to, even the loved ones she left behind for the murderous acts she’d committed. She knew in order to tackle Step Eight, she’d have to give some of that to God since only he could truly wash her sins away.
The jury was still out on Donovan. She and Scooter never spoke about him, but she knew one day, they’d have to do more than that. They’d have to be who they were to each other behind closed doors to the outside world, naked and all, a united front, which she knew would come with great criticism.
“Four is deep.” He pressed his elbows on his desk and grinned. “What did you find out about yourself? I’m curious because it might be the reason you’re glowing and shit.”
She shrugged, holding in the past few weeks of getting to know Scooter to herself. Shonasia probed here or there, but for the most part, she held their journey close to her heart. Rell and Travis were naturally part of that journey because Scooter would never leave them out.
Just when she realized the box of art materials was only for her, another one was delivered the next day. He’d sent two footballs, football gear, and a Madden NFL 25 game for themto play with. They weren’t the greatest with basketball, but they were learning, when Travis asked about football. They didn’t think she was listening, but she was. That night, they used the materials he sent and made him a huge “thank you” card. She planned to present it to him when he returned between one of his tour dates.
“I found out that my trauma set me up to put others in a better position, that it made me more empathetic, and that I don’t always have to let the shit I’ve been through fuel me to hurt others.”
“Part of that Step Four is also about being vulnerable, seeing the parts of you that are not so moral. The parts that you need to confront.” She’d done that, or she felt she was well on her way with enrolling the boys at the center, showing up, and being present. There, she mattered. To the boys, she mattered. To Scooter, she mattered, or she hoped. They didn’t see the moral fuck up she was. No, they saw the woman she was striving to be and was with them.
“Step Five,” Shawn spoke, rubbing his hands. “Confession to others as to the exact nature of your wrongs. Let’s hear it.”
He leaned back and waited, hands clasped together in his lap. She noted he wore slacks and a button-up shirt, but she preferred when he was casual, wondering how he’d look in something from Scooter’s clothing line.
“Naw, don’t give me that confused look, eyes all big and mouth open. Spill it.”
“Spill what?” she sputtered, and he smirked. “I don’t want to speak on it unless it’s a go.”
She hadn’t told many about the boys since she really couldn’t trust many. Mrs. Otto knew her, and although she didn’t probe, she knew there was more than what Kaleela shared. Instead of pressuring her, she did as she always did. She fell in line and poured love onto those babies like she had Kaleela and Shonasia.
Chello also hadn’t reached out. She figured he wouldn’t until whatever information he acquired was solid. So she decided to just leave it up to God. She hadn’t been to church since they showed up in her life, but church was in her heart and in her home each time she laid eyes on them.
“Can I wait until I know it’s a for sure thing?” He exhaled a light breath and nodded, then pulled out a pair of gloves from his drawer.
“Sit tight, but when I come back, you will have to tell me something.” He lifted one brow, sliding on his gloves. He knew his girl. He also knew how addiction and recovery worked. Highs and lows. Good days and bad days. Some pitfalls were seen with enough time to avoid them, while others were dangled in your face like a carrot on a string. Over time, you didn’t see the string or the carrot until you took a step back and worked your steps. If you didn’t, you fell into the pitfall.
That was called relapse.
Kaleela missedtwo calls from Scooter, but she was already running late to pick up the boys. After a quick drive through because she wanted to kick up her feet and not fight over them eating all of their vegetables, she decided she’d call Scooter once they were in bed.
“Mama Kaleela?” Rell whispered, sitting up. “Who’s that?”
Travis damn near scrambled out of his seatbelt. He knew it had to be Scooter. Even though it was almost nighttime, he couldn’t wait to get out and challenge him to a game of Madden NFL 25.
“Travis?” Her voice boomed, halting him mid-step out of the truck. “Sit, please.”
She gulped, her words caught in her throat when the person she’d never expected to see eased from her truck. She looked good, always had, even when she wore shorts too short, leaving her thick thighs on display with a tiny pudge for a stomach. It was proof she’d been eating more. Kaleela would give her hell for drawing attention the way she had, but even when fully covered, Chaney’s body was sick.
Her hair would be in an array of colors, hair sometimes shaved on one side, other times styled in a protective install. She wore light makeup but just enough so her lips popped, and her eyes danced from the lashes she’d applied with precision.
Tonight, though, that wasn’t the Chaney in front of her. She had deflated shoulders as she stood with her head hung low and crossed arms. Her jeans were nothing special. In fact, Donovan hated them. She called them boyfriend jeans that were wide-legged, along with a T-shirt that was two sizes too big. When her eyes met Kaleela’s, it was then she noticed they were red and puffy, and her cheeks were stained with tears.
“Hold up for a second,” she whispered. “Don’t get out.”
Chapter 19
Verse Nineteen
