didn't really surprise T.L. He knew that his father was pretty clueless about a lot of things.
T.L. didn't know what to say, but before he could even try, Shylah darted her head back toward her father, and holding back all urge to smack him, she screamed in his face, "What's the matter with me?! If you didn't put your nose in, this wouldn't have happened!"
"I know," Mr. King sheepishly replied, his head hanging lowly. "I know that, Baby girl. You gotta understand somethin', though. I'm tryin' to look out for you. You're my only daughter. Maybe it was wrong of me to say the things I said. I was mad at the time. You know Mark... well, you might as well call him my second son. I love that boy. But you and him together, it just don't feel right to me. It's your life. You're a grown woman, and I've spent years tryin' to deny that fact. You can do whatever you want. You're a smart girl, and I know that Mark would be better than those other guys you've been with." Mr. King, hanging his back down, let out a sigh, a sigh somewhat of relief and somewhat of general worry and confusion. "I do wish you'd find you a good black man, but if you and Mark care about each other like you say you do, just be careful. Ok? And I don't wanna see your brother lose his one good friend over this. You and Mark might not work out, but him and your brother, they go back so far... I can't even tell you what that would do to Ty."
As if Shylah did not have enough to worry about, she now had to think about her father' worries, too. Most of the time, Darius called his son either nothing at all, "Son," "Boy," or, on occasion, "T.L." He hadn't called T.L. by the name "Ty" in a very long time. Every time anyone heard it, they knew that it meant Darius was in a strange mood, a perplexed mood, a sentimental mood.
T.L. had no inclination to get involved in it all. There was enough worry to be had without adding to the ill will between Shylah and Darius. Sitting, listening, waiting, thinking over a million things, T.L. felt overwhelmed with joy when his phone rang. It meant that he could exclude himself for a while from the tiresome family proceedings.
"Hey, Dan. What's goin' on?"
"I wanted to check and see how the patient's doin," came the voice on the other end.
"Well, we haven't seen him yet, but he's in surgery right now. It's gonna be hours before he's awake."
"Oh," came a stifled reply from Officer Brady. "Well, I guess that's good for him and bad for you, huh? I wanted to let you know we found Ronny Dean."
"Good! What'd he have to say," asked T.L., lost in a world where his family and their squabbling did not exist.
"He gave us a rundown of what happened last night and a description of the guy. So, with the description and the name your sister gave us, we got an A.P.B. out on this guy. Valdosta PD and the VSU PD are out lookin' for him. Believe me, they'll find him. The problem is, though, you got maybe two dozen witnesses that'll probably claim Mark attacked the guy and that he was only defendin' himself with the bottle. The only witnesses that'll say otherwise are Ronny Dean and your sister, and frankly, your sister's word won't mean much since she only heard the verbal threats. We need to find more witnesses that saw the actual fight."
"So," began T.L. "We find some witnesses, and you got enough to arrest the guy?"
"Yep," quickly chimed Brady. "We or VPD or whoever can arrest him on it, whoever finds him. In the meantime, we do have enough to ask him to come in for questioning... might not do a lot of good, but if he's found, he's ours, for a while."
"Damn," muttered T.L., not really intending for Brady to hear him but more thinking to himself out loud. "I wish I went outside and saw it!"
"I know, buddy," Brady said, trying to comfort T.L. a little. "Let me know when Mark is out and awake, and I'll swing by to see him. I'm off duty tonight, so no problem
T.L. didn't know what to say, but before he could even try, Shylah darted her head back toward her father, and holding back all urge to smack him, she screamed in his face, "What's the matter with me?! If you didn't put your nose in, this wouldn't have happened!"
"I know," Mr. King sheepishly replied, his head hanging lowly. "I know that, Baby girl. You gotta understand somethin', though. I'm tryin' to look out for you. You're my only daughter. Maybe it was wrong of me to say the things I said. I was mad at the time. You know Mark... well, you might as well call him my second son. I love that boy. But you and him together, it just don't feel right to me. It's your life. You're a grown woman, and I've spent years tryin' to deny that fact. You can do whatever you want. You're a smart girl, and I know that Mark would be better than those other guys you've been with." Mr. King, hanging his back down, let out a sigh, a sigh somewhat of relief and somewhat of general worry and confusion. "I do wish you'd find you a good black man, but if you and Mark care about each other like you say you do, just be careful. Ok? And I don't wanna see your brother lose his one good friend over this. You and Mark might not work out, but him and your brother, they go back so far... I can't even tell you what that would do to Ty."
As if Shylah did not have enough to worry about, she now had to think about her father' worries, too. Most of the time, Darius called his son either nothing at all, "Son," "Boy," or, on occasion, "T.L." He hadn't called T.L. by the name "Ty" in a very long time. Every time anyone heard it, they knew that it meant Darius was in a strange mood, a perplexed mood, a sentimental mood.
T.L. had no inclination to get involved in it all. There was enough worry to be had without adding to the ill will between Shylah and Darius. Sitting, listening, waiting, thinking over a million things, T.L. felt overwhelmed with joy when his phone rang. It meant that he could exclude himself for a while from the tiresome family proceedings.
"Hey, Dan. What's goin' on?"
"I wanted to check and see how the patient's doin," came the voice on the other end.
"Well, we haven't seen him yet, but he's in surgery right now. It's gonna be hours before he's awake."
"Oh," came a stifled reply from Officer Brady. "Well, I guess that's good for him and bad for you, huh? I wanted to let you know we found Ronny Dean."
"Good! What'd he have to say," asked T.L., lost in a world where his family and their squabbling did not exist.
"He gave us a rundown of what happened last night and a description of the guy. So, with the description and the name your sister gave us, we got an A.P.B. out on this guy. Valdosta PD and the VSU PD are out lookin' for him. Believe me, they'll find him. The problem is, though, you got maybe two dozen witnesses that'll probably claim Mark attacked the guy and that he was only defendin' himself with the bottle. The only witnesses that'll say otherwise are Ronny Dean and your sister, and frankly, your sister's word won't mean much since she only heard the verbal threats. We need to find more witnesses that saw the actual fight."
"So," began T.L. "We find some witnesses, and you got enough to arrest the guy?"
"Yep," quickly chimed Brady. "We or VPD or whoever can arrest him on it, whoever finds him. In the meantime, we do have enough to ask him to come in for questioning... might not do a lot of good, but if he's found, he's ours, for a while."
"Damn," muttered T.L., not really intending for Brady to hear him but more thinking to himself out loud. "I wish I went outside and saw it!"
"I know, buddy," Brady said, trying to comfort T.L. a little. "Let me know when Mark is out and awake, and I'll swing by to see him. I'm off duty tonight, so no problem
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