Door Of Return Book 2: Crop Over

04: The Key

Written by Akilah Walcott

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It was dawn when I shut the front door of my house. I leaned against the frame for a long moment in the shadowy entryway, with my eyes half shut and my legs aching.

"Akeelah?" My mother's insistent voice cut through the blissful silence.

"Keelah is that you?"

I stayed with my back pressed against the door, too comfortable in the calming darkness behind my closed eyelids. I wanted so badly to be back on Papa's farm, I could almost taste the salty air of the land. I could see Papa on the porch, with yellow light streaming in through the trees and illuminating the plants in the garden. Grief twisted in my gut like a knife.

"Akeelah." The voice was much closer this time.

I opened my eyes and my mother was standing in front of me. Her hair was pulled back, her hands on her hips. I searched for the anger behind her eyes but all I found were pools of worry. They seemed to spark something within me. I felt my eyes sting with tears threatening to overspill. How would I tell her?

I hadn't seen my mother weep until that morning. She had always been so tough for us. But the wailing that escaped her mouth that day was one I would never forget.

I was in my bedroom now, peeling out of my pants, wincing at the wounds on my body covered in bandages. The tang of loss was fresh on my clothes, and I left them in a heap on the floor as I climbed into the shower.

The scene from earlier that morning played through my mind as the hot water drummed down on my skin: mother in the foyer, collapsing into Grandma's arms. Abe standing at the top of the stairs with that look in his eyes; the look of a child losing his innocence. I pretended the water could wash it all away, carrying the horrors of the past 24 hours down the drain. Though the battle had just begun, it felt as though we had already lost.

By the time I had the strength to come downstairs, a day had passed, maybe two. Navigating the house was like walking through an abandoned building, or a graveyard. I was halfway down the steps when I heard a knock at the front door. A familiar frame stood on the other side of it, holding a porcelain container wrapped in foil. Uncle Lu looked down and smiled, a sad smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"I cook yuh some peppa soup," he said. "I hear its yuh mother's favorite."

Of course he knew. Grandpa cooked stew for mom every few weeks. I smiled and I took the porcelain bowl in exchange for a hug.

"How's your mom?" he asked.

"In her room. It's been hard on her to come down since..". I didn't need to finish the sentence. My silence said more than words could fill.

"Anyway, we'll be okay. We're all just worried is all."

He nodded in agreement. "They'll find him. Police are working overtime these days. We saw Kadeem in town yesterday with newspaper flyers. His wife vanish, just gone suh. The fourth one this week."

I felt a pang in my chest. If Miss Sandra had gone missing too, this confirmed what I already knew. The disappearances were increasing, and it seemed to be happening at random.

"Anyway, the crew is thinkin' of postponing the festival this year. They wanna clear out the warehouse, pack all the costumes away until later. I sorry chile. I gon do my best to keep it running. I headed to the yard this evening."

I couldn't dodge the guilt that overcame me, knowing how hard Uncle had worked all year to put it together.

"I'm sorry", I said. "I know how much it meant to you."