TW: brief mention of gun violence and attempted child kidnapping
Late Summer 2009
It was the 14th time this year Chenille's car engine wouldn't start. Momma Dean suggested Derek drive his sister and nephew to work and school. The siblings reluctantly agreed since they had no other choice. During the ride to Greener Elementary, Christopher did most of the talking in the backseat. His mother and uncle only spoke to him before they saw him off. The drive from East 75th Street to South Halsted Street took 18 minutes. Chenille and Derek remained silent for the first 15. Between the two, she was more willing to engage first. "Look, I appreciate what you do for Christopher. For real."
"Yeah, I know that and how you've been fighting for him too."
His 26-year-old sister sighed with a bit of frustration, "I've seen too many roughnecks, gangbangers, and vandals in this neighborhood. If they ain't roaming the streets, they're either in prison or dead. I don't ever want him growing up to be one of those brothers." Derek caught her sternly looking at him in the corner of his eye. "It means a great deal he looks up to you, but there cannot be a repeat of last night. You don't ever cross me like that."
The college student cringed as he recollected getting into trouble with the law. He was caught for violating a state-wide curfew and getting into a few physical fights prior to his 17th birthday. It was during one of those instances where a gun was involved. The fatal aftermath was enough to scare him straight. "You're right. My bad, sis."
"It's all good, but we both need to remember where we stand in Christopher's life." Chenille exited the passenger seat after the car stopped in front of Hair Divine. Seconds later, she knocked on the driver's side. Her brother cracked open the window halfway. A funny smirk became visible on her face. "You don't have him listenin' to Dr. Dre or Ja Rule, have you?"
Derek smirked, "Not 'til he's over 13."
Five days later, Momma Dean had a bad case of the flu. She had contacted her clients to notify them she wouldn't be visiting them. With the Reynolds matriarch bedridden, her grandson voluntarily handled the errands. One of these was going to the food market. She wheezed heavily, "The list is on the fridge. Make sure you grab it before you go."
"Yes, Moms." Ms. Reynolds coughed several times. "I'll get more cough syrup on my way back." Derek stuffed the grocery list and his wallet in his jacket pockets before leaving with a reusable bag in tow. He drove over to Englewood Community Market, which was near Kennedy-King. It also helped that the prices were affordable. Once the college freshman was inside, he extracted his grandmother's list and read what she wrote:
1. 4 cans of tuna
2. 1 pound of carrots
3. Collard greens
4. Milk
5. 1 loaf of wheat bread
6. Cereal
7. 1 pound of apples
8. Chicken
Derek heard a distinct commotion near the back perimeter as he was searching for the last item. The 24-year-old investigated and saw a strange guy fighting to snatch a tan-skinned toddler, who kept yelling no. Bystanders were prioritizing their own shopping and/or mistaking the unfolding situation as the usual case of a dad dealing with an unruly child. Derek might know nothing about the distressed toddler, but something told him she wouldn't be safe with that man. He quickly intersected them in the snack aisle, commenting, "You keep squeezing her arm like that; it'll bruise."
"Get out of my way," the accoster snarled at him, "if you know what's good for you." He didn't seem to be armed with a gun. Still, any weapon the creeper could have on him was out of sight.
The college student furiously stared him down. "Let her go."
"Or what? You'll kick my ass?"
"Your choice." The sleazeball glared at his would-be abductee's rescuer. Reluctantly, he freed the frightened girl's arm and left. Derek looked down at the child he helped. He froze in horror upon recognizing her hazel eyes. Samara was staring up at him in her tangerine t-shirt, jean overalls, and cute sneakers. A mustard-colored headband secured her black curls, which had grown down to her neck. "You alright?"
She bobbled her head, questioning, "Where Mama?"
The college freshman inspected their surroundings. There were so many people, but the girl's mother weren't among them. Derek extended his large hand to her. "I'll help find her. I bet she's running around circles, looking for you. By the way, we haven't been properly introduced. I'm—"
"Dare-ick."
He lightly chuckled at her pronouncing his name. "Yeah, 'Dare-ick'." She held onto it as they walked side by side.
Sara had frantically revisited the aisles. She even checked the bottom shelves to see if her missing daughter could be hiding. The bags' handles started stretching thin in her double grasps. She thought to herself, "Why didn't I opt for paper?" Sara continued seeking Samara around the perimeters. The 25-year-old asked around, but no one seemed keen on helping out. She grew wearier when her name was suddenly uttered.
Sara balked at the thought of facing Derek again. However, someone else made her pivot. "Mama! Mama!"
She dropped the two grocery bags in a mix of shock and relief. "Samara! Oh my gosh!" The crying toddler rushed to her mother's arms. Sara placated her with a hug and disregarded Derek in the process. "Where did you go?"
"I found her near the snack aisle," he replied, purposely withholding the full story. An attentive employee noticed the spilled items and offered the fatigued mother a large paper bag. She filled it with her purchases; however, the carton of eggs were unsalvageable. Once the bag was full, she carried it in one hand and held Samara's hand in the other. Derek followed after the exiting duo despite another food market employee shouting to him. "Do you need some help?"
"We're doing fine," his ex-girlfriend coldly refuted.
"You literally have your hands full."
"I can say the same about yours." She pointed at his own bag of groceries. At that moment, Derek realized he forgot why he was at the market in the first place. "Shouldn't you be focusing on your family anyway?"
The college freshman quipped, "Which one?"
"If that's supposed to be a joke," Sara bristled, "it's not funny to me." She was more than relieved when a taxi cab stopped at the curb. "Goodbye, Derek." He watched as mother and daughter got inside it and drove away from him.
The food market employee grabbed Derek by the shoulder, breaking his train of thoughts. "Uh, you know you gotta pay for those, right?" He returned inside, fully convinced and annoyed that Sara hated him. She made a point about one thing though—he had to tend after his family. After all, Momma Dean needed cough syrup.