Dark Chocolate, White Diamonds

By Dixxy

Chapter Six: Grams

(Kento)

I walked Keisha downstairs, keeping an arm around her waist as she kept her head on my shoulder. Seeing her grandmother would probably make her feel a little better about her parents. It wasn't a replacement, but she and Evan both needed someone from their family to help them heal.

Once we reached the bottom of the stairs, we found Cara sitting on the couch with an elderly black woman. I stopped short, looking the old woman older. She had shoulder length, graying hair. Thick sunglasses covered her eyes and seemed to go well with her denim outfit. This is a grandmother? I thought. My grandmas never dressed anything like THIS.

Keisha stopped short, looking at the woman curiously. "Grams?" she asked.

The old woman looked up, pulling her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose. "Keisha. . ." she said, standing up. She slowly walked over to us, going up the few steps to where we stood. Cara gave the two of us on the stairs a nod before exiting, heading towards the kitchen. That left us with Keisha's grandmother, who smiled a somewhat cold and indifferent smile at Keisha. "My, how you've. . . grown up."

"Hello, Mrs. Narrlobi," I said.

"Turner," she said. "I was Keisha's mother's mother." She pulled her sunglasses off and slipped them into her pocket. She had a look of curiosity on her face mixed with something that looked like. . . a severe dislike. "Are you my granddaughter's boyfriend?" I nodded. "I see."

"Why are you dressed like that, Grams?" asked Keisha. She looked confused as she eyed her grandmother's outfit. She shook her head. Mrs. Turner raised a confused eyebrow. "You, you never used to wear jeans before. And you never, ever wore your hair down, either."

"They're comfortable, Keisha," she said. "Now, who's the boyfriend?"

"Oh," she said, looking at me. "This is Kento."

"Oh," said Mrs. Turner. "Well. . . are you all right, dear?"

I escorted the two women downstairs, sitting them down in the couch. I put Keisha in the middle, holding one of her hands tightly. My girlfriend looked down at her lap, her eyes narrowed in sadness. "I'm upset beyond words. I've cried so much that I think all of my tears are dried up."

"I understand how you feel," said Keisha's grandmother, putting a hand on her grandchild's shoulder. She looked around the room, her head settling on the stairs. "Where is your brother, Keisha? I would have thought he'd be down here by now to see me. I'm anxious to see how he's fairing in these troubling times."

"He's completely clamed up," I offered. "Evan's shut himself off from the rest of the world. It's been a struggle to get him to eat. All he's been doing is sitting in the guest room we've been giving staring at a wall." I sighed heavily. "No one can get him to open up and come out of this shell he's crawled it."

"Well, I'll fix that- show me where he is," said Mrs. Turner, standing up. She looked at me expectantly, tapping her foot impatiently. "Well? Aren't you going to show me where my grandson is?" I bit my lip. This woman obviously didn't like me very much. Was it something I said or did?

"Yes, I will," I said. I looked down at Keisha. "Do you want to come with us?"

"No," she said. "I'll be fine."

"All right," I said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. I gave her a quick pat on the back. "Just relax and try to collect your thoughts, all right? We're going to find our who was responsible and we're going to bring them to justice. Whoever did this is not going to get away with it, all right?"

"Okay," said Keisha, giving me a weak smile. My heart sunk. I missed seeing her smile and hearing her laugh. That was one of the things I loved about her- Keisha, when she was happy, had a way of making everyone else around her happy. But with her sad like this. . . everyone seemed sad. I missed that glow. Give her time, Kento. She's hurting right now.

I led Mrs. Turner upstairs to the guest room Evan was staying in. I let her in, then went back downstairs to check back on Keisha. She had curled up against one of the throw pillows, crying softly again. I crept downstairs to sit next to her. She silently accepted my comfort, allowing me to cuddle up to her. We sat in silence, Keisha's head buried into the pillow.

"Oh, Kento, why'd they have to die?" she asked after several minutes.

"I don't know," was my first response. I leaned into her. "Someone, some vicious, blood thirsty, cowardly person, decided to take their lives. It was something they had no right to do, and when we find out who did this, they're going to pay. Whether they die in a police prison cell, execution room, or at the hands of you or me, they're going to pay for what they've done."

Keisha leaned up to me. "Thank you," she said. "I needed to hear that."

"I know," I said. "I won't let that happen to you or Evan if I can help it."

Keisha didn't say anything to that with words, but she acknowledged the action by taking my hand. She brought it up to her cheek and rested up against it and the pillow. I clasped the hand she held mine with, getting a relaxed sigh from her. She was healing. She was getting better. Keisha was going to get through this. WE were going to get through this.

"Er herm."

The two of us shot up from instinct to see Mrs. Turner and Evan standing at the bottom of the stairs. Evan was still in the clothes he had been wearing the day of the murder, all wrinkled and messy looking. His eyes had dark circles under them and he still looked very shaken by the whole situation.

I hated to see Evan like that. Keisha's brother is a pretty cool guy. We joked a lot about what the best strategies to sell younger siblings were, watched football, and did guy stuff sometimes. He was almost as much of a brother to me as he was to Keisha. He, too, was my friend.

"The police have cleared out of the house," said Mrs. Turner. "We're allowed to return home."

Keisha nodded, turning to me. I hugged her, whispering my love to her into her ear. She returned it, kissing my cheek before she went to her grandmother, grabbing her jacket off the coat rack. I went to the door as they loaded into the cab and drove off.

For some reason, I didn't want to see her go.


A few days later, we hadn't seen hide nor hair of neither Keisha nor Evan in school. We expected that they wouldn't be in school for a few days, but we had heard NOTHING from them. No phone calls, e-mails, not anything. I knew that they certainly wouldn't be calling for pleasure, but we were expecting SOMETHING.

That something was information on when the Narrlobi's funeral was going to be. We'd been checking the newspapers for their obituaries, but when we finally did find them, there was nothing on when any of their services were going to be. I think it was Rona who suggested that maybe the police were withholding the bodies for either an autopsy or to continue looking for evidence.

I was starting to get worried. While I hadn't ever dealt with a death from a murder before, I knew something was wrong. Murder or not, their was still supposed to be a wake and a funeral for family and friends to say good-bye. Even if I couldn't attend, I still wanted to be able to put flowers on the grave. Be able to go there and say my own good-byes and say thank-you for treating me like family.

I decided that the only thing to do was to go over to Keisha's house myself. I drove over to Keisha's house, feeling nervous the whole way over. When I parked my car on the curb and got out, I saw that the house seemed eerily quiet. I wondered if they were out, but decided to try anyways. I cautiously walked up to the door and knocked.

I waited. Nothing happened. I was ready to go when my ears picked up the sound of what seemed to be the TV. I didn't know their grandmother very well, but I knew that Keisha nor Evan would leave something on when they weren't home. I knocked a little harder, knowing that someone would have to come sooner or later.

Keisha's grandmother opened the door a crack and stuck her head out. "Oh, it's you," she said.

"Hi, mind if I come in for a second?" I asked.

"What for?" she spat.

I was taken aback by her rude attitude. "Actually, I just wanted to talk to Keisha-"

"No," she said.

"Is she busy?"

"No."

"Then why can't I talk to her?"

"Because I said so."

I was beginning to get a little annoyed with the old woman. "Look, on behalf of Keisha and Evan's friends, we're all getting worried. By today they should have let us know something about the funeral or the final services. I tried calling but the phone just kept ringing. What's going on?"

"None of your business," she said. "Get away from here."

"What?" I asked.

"You heard me. Leave, or else I'll have you arrested for harassment. Keep the hell away from my grandchildren and you can keep your clean record, assuming you have one," she said. I nearly fell over. WHAT? Arrested! Arrested for worrying about my girlfriend's well-being?

"What are you talking about?" I said. "I just-"

The elderly woman grabbed my hand, wrenching me forward. She placed her hand to mine. "See that?"

"See what?" I asked. I looked at the collection of rings on her fingers. I smiled, impressed. I investigated the jewels with my free hand, my armor sensing part of my element close by. "Nice cuts. You must be seeing a fine jeweler. Are those fourteen or twenty-four carats?"

"Well, actually, they're eighteen karats- THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH JEWELRY!" she said in a sudden explosion. Her eyes grew dangerously narrowed, and for a second I thought I saw a flash of red. A shiver was sent up my spine. Keisha's grandmother was a nut job!

"Ma'am, Mrs. Turner, please, tell me what's bothering you," I said. "I can't help but feel that you don't like me. If it's something I said that offended you Monday night I sincerely apologize for whatever it was and if there's anything I can do to make it up to you I'll do it. I understand this is a difficult time for you. It is for me, too. Your daughter and her husband were both very kind to me and I miss them very much as well."

"You shouldn't be with my granddaughter. You're not her type," she said.

"Not. . . her type?" I asked, not sure what she was talking about. Not her type? "I don't understand. We get along good, have a lot of interests in common, we have a great time whenever we go out. Why am I not her type, Mrs. Turner?" Then, the hands thing came back to me, and I understood.

"You're oriental, and she's black. You two can't be together," she said. "Keisha should be seeing black boys, and you should go down to China town to pick up a girl. I don't want her to end up in some biracial relationship. I want her a strong, solid, loving black relationship. Evan, too."

I paled. "You mean just because we were born different races you aren't going to let me see her?" I said. Keisha's grandmother nodded. I paled. No. This can't be happening. Keisha's parents were so supportive. Why is she shutting me out? "But, I love her. Isn't that all you need in a relationship?"

"You THINK you're in love, sonny boy. It can't work. You know it, and I know it. She'll be happier if she's with someone else of her own race and so will you, so get out of here. Right NOW!" I stared at the old woman in disbelief. She pointed towards the car. I slowly turned around and walked back to the car, my heart broken in two.

Later than night, I couldn't sleep. I felt unsettled and alone. One of the most important people in my life had been snatched away from me and I felt insecure. I felt empty inside, like my life had lost some of its meaning. Keisha. . . how could this possibly happen to us?

Yeah, I'd have girlfriends before. A few puppy love romances in late elementary school and my first date in junior high. The list of my ex-girlfriends was very short, but still, there was a list. Had a few nasty break-ups with some of them, too. But none of them had ever felt this bad. This just tore me in two pieces.

I walked through the sliding door that led to the small balcony leading off my room. I shuddered as my bare feet stepped into the snow that was falling that evening. I watched in silence as the soft white puff-balls fell silently from the sky, some landing in my hair or on my pajamas.

I brushed some of the snow out of my hair, sighing heavily. The scene was so peaceful and serene. Part of me had wished the snowfall would wait for that Sunday evening in hopes of a school day, but the rest of me was concentrating on the difficult day I'd had.

I found it hard to believe a mortal woman could possess so much hatred about something so simple and pure as two people in love. What Mrs. Turner was exercising was racism and prejudice to a horrible degree. It's not like I was some abusive drug addict or something. She hated me because I was different from her granddaughter.

Sighing heavily, I went back into my room and tried to get some sleep.