Gray: An Interracial Story

Chapter: 25

~Miss Bell's POV~

"Arnie. . . Arnie get the dadgum phone!" I yell to my husband back in the kitchen as I serve Mr. Woahmack his usual eggs and bacon. Leon Woahmack has come in here every single morning for the past 5 years. I remember the first day he ever came in was after his wife and son died in a car crash the day before. 

Even the day of the funeral he came in. He got his breakfast dressing up in his black suit- made sure not to get a single dot of food on it. Even had his own lint roller. I honestly felt so sorry for the man. But I know not to have pity for people like that. He's told me numerous times not to. I don't have pity, but I do have sympathy for Mr. Woahmack. He was 40 years old when they died, now he's almost 46. He's lived those 5 long years in loneliness. He may deny it everytime, but I know Mr. Woahmack isn't happy. 

"Goodmorning Leon! How are you this fine Thursday?" 

"I'm fine today, and you Miss Bell?" 

"Glorious! Now you eat up and put a smile on that face!" I smile at him brightly and give him his plate. 

I walk back into the kitchen and Arnie gives me the phone. 

"It's for you," he whispers putting a hand on my shoulder. 

I look at him suspiciously and put the receiver up to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hello, Mrs. Bellinda Thrash?" the voice questioned on the other end of the line. 

"Yes, this is she. May I ask who's calling?" 

"This is Dr. Howard Harvey of the New York-Presbyterian University Hospital of Columbia and Corne-"

"Yes, Dr. Harvey, I know. But why are you contacting me?" I begin to get impatient and just want him to get to the point. I have this deep feeling that something has happened. But to whom? Arnie is right here and I'm perfectly fine. But Kyle, I haven't seen him since last night. He always comes back in by 4AM. 

"I am very sorry to inform you that your adopted son, Mr. Kyle Martin Thrash, was found this morning. He expired, by doctor's reports around 3AM. Mr. Thrash was found on the ground below his 10th story apartment window. It is seeming that he jumped. He suffered massive head trauma and broke all of his ribs. The fatal blow was caused by a rib puncturing his heart. We did all we could, but there was no way to save him. I am very sorry Mrs. Thrash, but the papers are here for you to sign by tomorrow. Have a nice day."

My knees gave out and I dropped the receiver onto the cold, hard, linoleum floor. Arnie turns around and runs to me. I let out a loud sob causing all the noise in the cafe to cease. 

"Bellinda, what's wrong? Is it Kyle? What happened?"

"K-Kyle. . .  my baby. . .  my poor, poor baby. . ."

"Bellinda! What happened to Kyle?"

"My baby, my baby took his life. My poor, poor. . . KYLE!" Arnie fell onto to his knees with me and we sobbed together. 

It's my fault, all my fault. Last night I knew something was up, but I didn't keep bugging him. I could've stopped him, I could've. Even if I hadn't if I had answered the phone when it rang at 3AM I could have at least saw his face one last time, I could've told him I loved him- let him die with someone, not alone. But I didn't and now my baby is gone. 

It's all my fault, all my fault. 

~Blakely's POV~

Riiinnnggg! Riiinnnggg! Riiinnnggg! 

"Hello?" I pick up my phone on the third ring. I just got out of the shower. When I awoke I realized I was in new clothes. I don't know how that happened. The shirt I was in actually was one of Kyle's old shirts from highschool. I kept it all these years to comfort me. I may have been hurt by him, but I loved him to death. 

"Blakely! You won't believe what I just heard!" Mason yells into my ear on the other end of the line. 

"What is it?" 

"Kyle Thrash, the one you dated in highschool?"

"Oh yeah, what about him?" I never told anyone about what Kyle did, not even Mason. I just told everyone I had been messing around with guys. Yes, that made me seem like a whore, but it was better than telling everyone my boyfriend raped me because I wouldn't give it up.

"He's dead. I couldn't believe it until I saw it, but he's actually dead. He went and offed himself."

I hang up the phone and drop it onto the floor. Tears begin to roll down my face as I run out of my apartment building. I run down the street, tears flying everywhere, silent sobs filling my tightening throat. I notice people staring at me through my blurred eyes, but who wouldn't stare at a barefoot girl in just a t-shirt running down the street? 

My feet splash into water and droplets of wetness fall from the sky, landing on my face. The rain pours down onto me, instantly making my bare legs and feet feel like ice. I run faster, and I feel my legs spasming. I run and feel my feet touch lush grass, water dripping from my body.  I look up long enough to run to the door. I knock once before collapsing with a thud onto the cold concrete porch. I feel my chest  tightening and I can't breathe. 

The door opens slowly. I feel a strong set of fairly familiar arms scooping me up. 

"Blakely. . ."