Page 34 of Bern and Isley
“Okay then, I’ll talk to you later, Ms. Fee. Take care.”
In no time, I hopped into my ride and began heading toward Flowers Avenue. I didn’t know what house the dude lived in, but I did know what kind of vehicle the nigga drove. I remembered seeing him get into a white Ford Bronco the day we played ball in the park. I knew a shortcut to get there and decided it would be the best route for me to take. I didn’t want to waste any time getting to Isley. I didn’t know what kind of jam she was in, but a heavy feeling in my gut told me that some shit had gone down. She assured me that she wasn’t getting back with that nigga so maybe she had lunch to discuss future plans of custody or some shit. That was the only thing that made sense to me. Was her baby daddy opposed to whatever co-parenting opportunity she was offering him? I was trying to think of the least dramatic situation because I was growing furious by the minute as I replayed the yelling I heard in the background. I couldn’t get past the fact that it sounded like she was in distress.
I was only a few miles from D-Ville Projects when I noticed traffic had slowed down tremendously. There wasn’t typically traffic during this time of the afternoon on weekends. What was supposed to be a shortcut had become a delay. I pulled my phone from my pants pocket and dialed Isley’s number again to see if she would answer. It didn’t even ring anymore, just went straight to voicemail.
“Fuck!” I yelled in frustration and slammed my fist into the steering wheel as we came to a complete stop.
After a few moments, I noticed the flashing lights. Traffic started moving again at a snail’s pace. I could see a fire truck,police cars, and an ambulance. A wreck. Fuck. And instead of nosy motherfuckers driving around it, they were too busy rubbernecking. After about five minutes, I finally neared the accident scene. I briefly glanced at the wreckage as I drove by. It was a black van and white vehicle. I didn’t bother trying to get a closer look at the make and model as the vehicle was severely mangled. Besides, I didn’t want to be part of the reason traffic was slow. I was on a mission. I said a silent prayer for the people and hoped there were no kids involved, but I was more focused on trying to find Isley. She was my priority.
My phone vibrated. It was my cousin Antwan. I silenced the call. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to him at the moment. I would call him back after I made contact with Isley. I was one mile from Flowers Avenue when Antwan called again. I sighed heavily before answering.
“What’s up, Antwan?”
“Man, where you at? I just stopped by your crib.”
“I had to leave to take care of something,” I told him, purposely being vague. I couldn’t tell him that I thought Isley was beefin’ with her baby’s daddy and that I might have to check that nigga. I didn’t need my cousin trying to talk me down. Because when it came to Isley Baker, there was no thinking rationally. I was one hundred percent committed to crashing out about her.
“Oh shit, well I hope you dodged that traffic. It was a bad wreck. A damn Sprinter van hit a white SUV.”
“Yeah, I just passed it a minute ago. Shit looked bad.”
“I guarantee you one of them muhfuckas ran that damn red light,” Antwan continued. “But the Bronco or whatever it was took the brunt of the accident. Hope they alright.”
“Wait… did you say it was a Bronco?”
“Yeah, that’s what it looked like to me, but I’m not one hundred percent sure. Why? You know somebody who drives one?”
“Oh fuck,” I muttered. “I gotta go.”
I immediately disconnected the call before busting an illegal U-turn. I had to get back to that accident scene. I prayed Antwan’s prediction was wrong and that the white vehicle was anything but a Bronco. It had to be something else because my intuition wanted me to believe it was that nigga’s truck. And if it was that nigga’s truck, that meant not only was he in it, but my Isley was in it too.
By the time I made it back to the scene, the first responders had left, but the tow trucks remained as they loaded the damaged vehicles. I pulled over to the side of the road and got out of my vehicle to get a closer view. My soul nearly left my body when my fear was confirmed. It was indeed a white Ford Bronco.
Chapter 19
Bern
I pacedthe hall of the emergency room at Highland Regional Hospital. My nerves were bad as fuck as I waited to get an update on Isley. After the initial shock of seeing the totaled vehicle dissipated, I headed straight to the hospital. My hope was that they survived. Well, my hope was that Isley and the baby survived. I put the thoughts of anything else in the back of my mind. A nigga couldn’t handle the alternative. Isley had to make it. Because if she didn’t and that nigga Marshall did, he was good as dead.
“Claybern, come over here and sit by me,” my mother insisted. The worry lines cascaded across her mocha toned forehead. “You need to be calm for whenever they let us back there to see her.”
“I’m okay,” I assured her. The truth was, I was scared if I sat still I might lose it.
We had no idea of the status of Isley, the baby, or the sperm donor. A couple of my homies in DP had stopped by to see if there were any updates and offer support. They didn’t stick around too long, but I appreciated them for stopping by. Everybody in the hood knew how I stepped behind Isley.
“I’m about to lose my damn mind,” Snow groaned, covering her face with her hands. “They need to hurry the hell up!”
“Calm down, baby,” Ms. Fee encouraged her as she patted her shoulder. “I know my Isley’s going to be just fine.”
Isley’s aunt was trying her best to remain positive. But her facial expressions were betraying her. She was worried about her niece and rightfully so. Isley’s mother and brother were both killed in a car accident so I was sure this reopened old wounds.
The physician came out and provided us with an update on Isley. She was banged up but expected to be just fine.
“Me and Bern will go in first,” Snow announced as she pulled me toward the direction the doctor was leading us. The hallway leading to Isley was long. The white tiled floor seemed to go on forever. After entering the automatic doors of the unit, we passed a room where the patient was moaning and groaning loudly. We neared the nurse’s station where there was a lady with a scrub cap on her head texting on her phone.
“Here you go,” the doctor announced.
My stomach churned and my feet felt like lead as I entered the hospital room. Isley was laid back in the bed with her eyes closed. She had a huge knot on her head and her lip was busted. Her face was battered and bruised. A single tear escaped my eye and I quickly wiped my face and willed myself to hold it together. I had to be strong for her. But seeing her laid up like that really fucked a nigga up.
