The Realest Ever - By Keith Thomas Walker Page 0,13
took another slow breath, trying to calm her nerves.
“It’s good to hear from you,” she said.
“Same here,” Donovan said. “You just don’t know. Where are you?”
“I’m at the library.”
“Where?” he said. “Your Facebook says–”
“I’m in Overbrook Meadows.”
“Really? Since when?”
“Last week,” Kyra said.
“Do you know how many times I looked for you on Facebook?” Donovan asked. She could hear the elation in his voice. “Do you have any idea?”
Kyra smiled. “I read your messages.”
“A lot,” Donovan continued. “A lot, Kyra. I been so worried about you. I almost cried when I got your friend request.”
“Me, too,” Kyra said. “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long,” Donovan said. “Too damned long.”
“You sound different,” Kyra noticed.
“You do, too,” he said. “And you look different, too! I see you’re a mother now. That’s so awesome, Kyra. You changed a lot.”
“No, you’re the one,” Kyra said. Her smile was big and beautiful. She had a warm glow in her chest that wasn’t embarrassment this time. “I saw those pictures you had on there.”
“Which one,” he asked.
“All of them.”
“You saw all of my pictures?”
“Just now,” Kyra said. “I couldn’t stop looking.” She thought about her favorite pic and blushed. She was glad he couldn’t see her. “You’re a grown man now,” she said with play-sisterly pride. “All big and stuff.”
“Whatever,” Donovan said.
“You played for Ohio?” Kyra asked. “I always knew you were gonna go far. I’m so proud of you.”
“Aw, man. I didn’t do too much.”
“I’m serious,” Kyra said. “Not too many people from my past made something of themselves.”
“I’m just a teacher,” Donovan said. “And a football coach.”
“That’s something to be proud of,” Kyra countered. “A lot of black men your age are in prison by now.”
“Thanks,” Donovan said, and after a short pause, “I wanted to say I’m sorry, Kyra. For what happened.”
“Please,” she said. “That’s not your fau–”
“I know,” Donovan said. “But the way it went down... I never got a chance to say I was sorry. And then I never heard from you again.”
“We, just… Are you trying to get me crying?” Kyra asked. She looked up to the ceiling to keep the tears in.
“No,” Donovan said. “I’m sorry. It’s just... Never mind.”
After an awkward silence, Kyra said, “So, you coach for Finley High?”
“Yeah,” Donovan said. “How do you, oh yeah.”
Kyra chuckled. “Is that stalking? I felt like I was stalking you when I looked through your pictures.”
Donovan laughed, too. “No. That’s what they’re there for. It’s all good.”
“Why didn’t you teach at Western Hills?” Kyra asked.
“I thought about it,” Donovan said. “But they didn’t have an opening when I got out of college. Plus I didn’t really want to work with any of the teachers who taught me. I still put them on a pedestal. I don’t wanna know what they’re like in real life.”
“Oh, and I see you’re still a mama’s boy,” Kyra said.
“No, I’m not,” Donovan said. Kyra could tell he was amused.
“Yeah you are. You had around a dozen pictures with her.”
“She posted those and tagged me,” Donovan offered.
“You’ll always be a mama’s boy,” Kyra said with a grin. “It’s all good. I noticed a lot of students in your pictures, but no babies that looked like you…”
“I don’t have any kids,” Donovan said. “You have a daughter.”
“And a son. He’s eight.”
“That’s awesome,” Donovan said. “I can’t wait to meet your family. Are you married?”
“No. And you?”
“No,” Donovan said.
There was another break in the conversation. Kyra wanted to ask about the beautiful woman in his pictures, the one with the long, curly hair, but she didn’t know how to bring it up.
“So when can I see you?” Donovan asked. “Where are you staying?”
“With my aunt in Berry Hill.”
“Close to where you used to live?”
“Yep. Walking distance.”
“Can I come see you today?” Donovan asked. “Can I pick you up, take you out for dinner?”
Kyra’s heart leapt at the thought, but she didn’t have a thing to wear. Actually she had one outfit that was suitable for such an occasion, but it wasn’t clean.
“How about tomorrow,” she said. “I can see you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Donovan said. “But I would really–”
“Q, go catch that bus!” Kyra blurted.
“Huh?”
“Sorry, I gotta go,” Kyra said.
“Where are you?” Donovan asked.
“At the library, on Bolt Street.”
“You’re riding the bus?”
He didn’t sound like he was putting her down, but Kyra still felt self conscious.
“I came down here with pretty much nothing,” she said as she gathered their books and tote bags. “I don’t have a job or a car. I can’t even get on the internet with my cellphone.