“Who?”
“It’s me, Gena.”
“Gena, girl, everybody and they momma been calling here looking for you. Where the hell have you been? Something done happened to your grandma. They said some man attacked her and shot Gary up and he’s in critical condition.”
“What?” asked Gena, confused.
“Girl, it’s bad; it’s been on the news and everything. The police are looking for the man and everything; they got a bulletin out and his picture. You know how they do the drawings? You better call somebody. You better call home.”
Gena picked up the receiver of Markita’s phone and dialed her cousin Bria’s cell phone. There was no answer, so Gena hung up and dialed again. On the second ring Bria answered the phone.
“Bria, it’s me, Gena. What’s going on?”
“Gena, some man came up in Gah Git’s house looking for you. But Gah Git told him she ain’t know where you was and he beat her and Gary tried to stop him, but he beat Gary then shot him in the stomach and then he…” her voice faded out and Gena couldn’t hear her.
“And then what, what happened?”
“Then he raped Gah Git.”
“What? Oh my God,” said Gena, as she began to unravel.
“She’s in the hospital at Temple and Gary’s there too. Gena, it’s bad. Aunt Paula, Uncle Michael, and Aunt Gwendolyn are all at the hospital, and they saying Gary’s not gonna make it. He’s on life support, Gena,” said Bria as she started crying.
“Okay, okay, I’m on my way. I’m on my way!” said Gena, before placing the phone in its cradle.
“What happened?” Markita asked.
“It’s just like you said, Gah Git and Gary is in the hospital. Some man went to Gah Git’s house looking for me. He beat Gary and shot him and beat Gah Git and raped her.”
“Oh, my God, Gena, no!”
“That’s just the half of it,” said Gena, thinking of Quadir. She wished she could tell her friend, but she knew that would just make matters worse. Instead, she decided to keep the news of Quadir to herself. She bent her head and began to cry. Her entire world was falling apart and there was nothing she could do to make it better.
Markita placed her hand on Gena’s head and tried to comfort her friend.
“Come on, it’s gonna be okay. Come on, I’ll go with you to the hospital.”
Monkey See, Monkey Do
Gena stood just outside the hospital door, afraid to open it, afraid to step inside, afraid to see her grandmother. She blamed herself for what happened to Gah Git. If only I had been there, then maybe none of this would have happened. Oh, Gah Git, I’m so sorry. Gena couldn’t help but think that all this had something to do with Quadir’s money. Since she had taken the money from Quadir’s hidden apartment, her entire world had begun to go downhill. Nothing was right anymore. I wish I had never found that apartment or that money. Even though the attacker didn’t ask for money, and only asked for her, it didn’t matter. Gena had heard the saying “money is the root of all evil,” and she was beginning to take the saying seriously. What kind of monster would rape an old woman? Who is he? What does he want with me? Nothing good, that’s for sure. He probably would have done the same to me or worse. Gena started to think about everything that had happened. Like a bolt of lighting it hit her. Quadir, oh, my God. He wants his money! He sent that guy to find me and look what he did. She reached down and felt her stomach. Why would that guy do that to Gah Git? She had so many unanswered questions; nothing made sense. But here she was today, standing outside a hospital room, scared to see her grandmother.
Gena slowly pushed open the door to the room and stepped inside. Gah Git was lying in bed with tubes protruding from various parts of her body. She was bandaged and bruised all over. Because of her age, the doctors were uncertain about the full extent of her recovery or if she would ever fully recover at all. As a result of being beaten and raped, Gah Git had required four separate surgeries to stop her internal bleeding. Gah Git’s heart was sturdy-that was the good news. She had suffered several skull fractures from being struck with the handgun, and her bones were brittle because of her age. Healing was a coin toss. But they were going to do everything in their power to get the job done.
The doctors and the police had done the best they could to keep the incident out of the media, because an assault on an old woman would draw unbelievable media coverage, and perhaps cause even more deaths. These types of crimes often caused a chain reaction. Copycat killers sometimes come out of the woodwork on cases such as these. However, the efforts were worthless. The news spread through the city like wildfire. Other elderly people barricaded themselves indoors behind locks and chains, some refusing to go out even to get medical attention. Crimes like this reverberated across the community for months. And even though the detectives were upset about how the case was being handled in the media, they refused to comment. Their main reason was clear; they all had grandmothers and mothers, and something like this was inconceivable, inhuman even. A crime like this was done out of pure evil. Brutally beating and raping an old woman… no, they were going to lay this sick bastard to rest. When they caught him, his judge, his jury, and his sentence would be given to him inside a holding cell in a precinct house.
Gena approached her grandmother. She looked as though she had aged ten years since the last time Gena saw her. Gena bent down, kissed her forehead, and began to caress her arm softly, causing Gah Git to open her eyes.
She smiled at Gena.
“Hey, Gah Git,” Gena said, barely audible. “How you feeling?”
Gah Git lifted an eyebrow, telling Gena how stupid her question was.
Tears fell from Gena’s eyes. “Gah Git, I am so sorry! I don’t know why someone would do something like this. I’m so, so, sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”
Barely able to speak, Gah Git whispered, “I’m not mad at you,” then reached up to wipe Gena’s tears away. She placed her hand on top of Gena’s gently, too weak to do much else. She looked into Gena’s eyes and silently said everything would be okay without saying a word.
Gena wiped her tears and smiled and held Gah Git’s hand. She leaned forward and buried her head in her grandmother’s chest. Gah Git was so strong. Only you Gah Git, only you. Gena didn’t know what it was but there was something about her grandmother that no matter what, she was able to see a bigger, better, brighter picture even when the world was dark and gray and hopeless. For Gena it seemed the older generation just had that way about them. No matter what, it was still okay and somehow the Lord would give whatever strength was needed. Maybe it was some damn magic potion that they drank when they were younger or something. Gena thought of all the stories her grandmother had told her about her mother and her father not being able to go to school and having to work the fields in the South, picking cotton all day in the hot sun. And she remembered Gah Git’s stories of the sixties and seventies and the Black Panthers and the civil rights movement and Martin Luther King Jr., and Malcolm X. Maybe that’s why she’s so much stronger than me. Gena would never have thought of marching or boycotting, and would never have imagined Gah Git out there either. Yes, her grandmother, Gah Git, was one of the last few out there who endured the water hoses, the dogs, the police batons, the beatings, the jails, and everything else, and still she held up her head and kept going. Gena never understood how her grandmother managed to always take nothing and turn it into something. She would take in her grandbabies and accept the responsibility and all that came with them. She made sure they had food to eat and clean clothes on their backs. She helped each and every one of them with their school lessons and preached day in and day out about staying out of trouble. This was her Gah Git, and for Gena to know that she had caused her grandmother pain broke her heart in two.