CHAPTER 6
1373 Words
CHAPTER 6
Reuben’s room was nothing more than a ten-by-ten square partitioned off with colorfully patterned curtains. A nurse was handing him a piece of paper. Kennedy entered, uncertain how he would react when he saw her there. “Can I come in?” She hated feeling so uneasy. This was Reuben. She’d never been self-conscious around him before.
The nurse glanced up, apparently oblivious to Kennedy’s discomfort. Her face broke into a welcoming grin. “Looks like you have a visitor.”
Reuben gave Kennedy a faint smile. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
The nurse handed him a pen. “If you don’t have any more questions, I just need you to sign your discharge papers and you’re free to go.”
“Leaving already?” Kennedy asked. “That’s great. I’ll drive you home.” She held her breath, half expecting Reuben to decline her invitation.
Instead, he offered her that same tired smile and nodded. “That sounds great. Thanks so much for coming.”
The anxiety that had clenched its talons into her spine melted away like dross. A few minutes later, they were back in Willow’s car and pulling out of the Providence parking lot.
“How does your head feel?” she asked.
“I’m ok. Just tired.”
They rolled along without talking. Kennedy wondered if she should tell him about her meeting with Dominic. What would he think? What would he say?
“I’m really sorry about what happened. That officer ...”
“Forget about it.” Reuben turned down the radio, which was set to Willow’s favorite classic rock station.
Kennedy drove past looming business complexes and darkened side streets. “It’s too bad about Aida. I really wanted to see it with you.” She stole a quick glance at him. Did he remember how this evening started?
“That’s life for you.” Reuben stared out his window.
Kennedy recognized the song faintly playing on the radio but didn’t know it well enough to make out the words. “Did the doctor say anything? Anything about your injuries?”
“I needed a few stitches. That’s all. It’s hardly worth mentioning.”
Kennedy sensed he was talking about more than just the ER. She let her mind drift off. She had to figure out what to do next. Part of her wanted to file a complaint with the police department. Even if they didn’t catch the cop this time, maybe it would force them to make improvements in the future. Then again, if Reuben refused to talk about what happened tonight when it was just the two of them, how could she expect him to come forward and make the complaint with her? Would they both have to testify against Bow Legs, or could she proceed without forcing Reuben to get involved?
She had no idea what he was going through. No idea what he had felt while pressed down against the hood of that car with his hands cuffed behind his back. No idea how much fear, how much anger must have built up in his system before he finally stood up to the cop. She had spent so many late nights with him, shared so many meals in the student union, so many hours in the chemistry lab. He wasn’t the type to bottle up negative emotions. She’d never seen him lash out. Never heard him yell. Never seen him angry.
Until tonight.
Now, with him so silent beside her, she wondered how well she actually knew him. When they weren’t talking about their studies or arguing over a piece of literature, he would ask all kinds of questions about Kennedy’s life. Listen to her stories about growing up in Yanji. Find out every detail he could about her parents. He knew so much about her past. What did she know about his? He had seven sisters, a whole gaggle of nieces and nephews, and an extended family that could fill an entire floor of a New York hotel. But how useful was that information? She didn’t know what he was afraid of, didn’t know what made him mad, didn’t know what struggles he’d overcome. He grew up in a Christian family, talked about going to church on Christmas Eve with his relatives, but he hardly ever mentioned God. She’d spent the past semester and a half feeling so close to him, but the more she thought about it, the more she wondered if she knew him at all.
Another song came on the radio. Rocket Man by Elton John. It only reminded her how disappointed she was to miss tonight’s musical. Only reminded her how you can be half a foot away from someone you care about, maybe even love, yet still find yourself drowning in an ocean of isolation.
The song invited her to wallow in the homesickness and loneliness that had plagued her since she first arrived at Harvard. A lump lodged itself in the back of her throat, but as comforting as it might be to lose herself in tears, she knew she wouldn’t. Not now. Not here. Not with Reuben’s elbow just a couple inches from hers.
She thought back on her meeting with Dominic, how a perfect stranger had seen and even soothed her tears. And now here she was with Reuben, her best friend, and her eyes were as dry as anhydrous sodium sulfate.
“I’m sorry.” Reuben’s voice was faint. At first, she wasn’t sure if she heard it at all. “With the paramedics. When I yelled at you.”
She turned the song off. “It’s ok.”
“No, I was acting like a jerk. I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you,” she whispered. Did that mean they could talk now? Did that mean their encounter with Bow Legs was no longer taboo?
“I was ...” He sucked in his breath. “I was really scared.”
She nodded, mistrustful of her voice.
“I was afraid he was going to hurt you, and I’d have to stand by and watch.”
She bit her lip, wondering how different things might have turned out if Reuben hadn’t intervened. Maybe nothing would have happened. Nothing at all. The cop could have sent them away with a warning. Or he might have taken them in until Kennedy could prove the stuff in the Ziploc was tea leaves like she claimed. Wasn’t it Aslan in Prince Caspian who said you don’t get to know the what-ifs?
What if they hadn’t been pulled over? What if they’d gone to see Aida like they planned? What if Reuben had told her afterwards the secret he’d been meaning to share?
“They talked to you at the hospital, didn’t they?” Reuben was always soft-spoken, and this time Kennedy had to strain to make out his words.
“Yeah. I didn’t really have much of a choice.”
“Well, I’m just glad it’s over.”
She didn’t want to tell him it might not be over like he expected. Didn’t want to tell him she was considering filing a complaint.
She tested her voice. “Hey, can I ask you a question?” Even with her eyes focused on the road, she sensed his whole body tense.
“What is it?”
She tried to make her words sound natural. Unassuming. “Why didn’t you tell the policeman at the hospital what happened?”
He let out his breath, almost as if he were relieved. “Back home, nothing good ever comes from dealing with the police. They’re all corrupt, and they don’t even try to hide it. So when we got pulled over, I kept reminding myself things were different in America. But they weren’t.”
Kennedy could empathize. If it hadn’t been for Dominic and his prayer, she probably would feel mistrustful of everyone in a blue uniform at this point, too.
“And I haven’t been here long, but I’ve seen enough to know how it would turn out. Everyone who heard about what happened to us would turn it into a race issue. It wouldn’t be about a bad policeman abusing his power. It wouldn’t be about a sexist policeman taking advantage of a college girl. It would be about a white policeman pulling over a black man. That’s all anybody would see.”
Maybe he was right, but Kennedy didn’t understand why that would make him reluctant to bring the officer to justice. “So you think a white cop should be able to harass a black man and get away with it?”
“I don’t think any cop should be able to harass any person and get away with it.”
“You’re not making sense.”
Reuben shrugged. “It’s hard to explain. But I still don’t want you to make a big deal about it. Let’s just forget it.”
Kennedy tried not to show her frustration. “So why else did you refuse to talk to the police?” There had to be more reasons than his counter-intuitive argument.
“I’m not comfortable with it, ok?” He must have sensed he was being more forceful than necessary. “I’m sorry. There are just some things I don’t feel like talking about.”
She furrowed her brows. “I thought we could talk about everything.”
“No.” His voice was weighed down with so much heaviness, so much sadness that Kennedy held her tongue.
“No,” he repeated. “Not everything.”
- Writer
