Free Eve by K'wan Page A

knocking. It had been her home since she was young, but now the place felt alien to her. Her uncle had written from time to time, but he never got a response either. Eve ducked him out of shame. She was ashamed that as smart as she was, she ended up catching a charge for a stupid-ass reason. She examined the chipping brown paint in the door and saw the spot where she had carved her name. Eve traced the carving with her index finger. Memories.
    Deciding that she was beginning to feel stupid, Eve knocked on the door. She tapped three times, causing paint chips to shake loose and float to the ground. At first there was nothing, then a lock clicked. A bolt could be heard sliding loose, followed by another lock. After the strange clicking orchestra came to a cease, the door sprung open. No one stood to take responsibility for opening the portal, but it was an invitation nonetheless.
    Eve cautiously stepped through the doorway and closed it behind her. She found herself standing at the end of a long hallway that she remembered all too well. Eve still had the scar on her forehead from when she hit it on the closet door. Her uncle would always tell her about running back and forth but she never listened. The results were a permanent mark.
    Different pictures lined the walls of the long hallways. There were pictures of family members, whom she hadn’t seen in a while and probably never would again. There were also pictures of her Uncle Bobby from his days in the service. He looked young and regal standing among his fellow soldiers. They were all smiling and brandishing weapons. He still kept in contact with some of the guys from his unit. They even managed to get together every year or so. She remembered the grand old stories that he told about the war and his part in it. She also remembered the nights when he would wake up screaming from nightmares brought on by the conflict.
    There was one picture in particular that gave Eve pause. She ran her fingers across the frame, wiping away the dust that had settled on the protective glass. It was of a couple and a little girl. The man in the picture had smooth tan skin and wavy auburn hair. A thin mustache lined his upper lip and curved downward at the ends. The woman had a caramel complexion, with long black hair, a round face, and attractive full lips. She smiled lovingly at the man in the picture and her hazel eyes held the sparkle of happiness. In the center of the picture was a little girl wearing two pigtails. A lone tear ran down Eve’s face as she remembered the tragedy that had befallen her parents.
    She couldn’t have been more than nine or so at the time, but the memories were still fresh in her mind. It was New Years Eve as she huddled with her parents in front of the television, waiting for Dick Clark to count down to the new year. Her parents weren’t rich, but they weren’t hurting either. Eve was provided with all of the comforts and love that a little girl should have. These were happy times for her. The calm before the storm.
    Her father, who was a mixture of Italian and Irish, was a soldier in a local mob family. Because of his mixed heritage, he could never be officially inducted into the secret society, but he was still a respected man on the streets. Everyone loved Joe-Joe Panelli, but there were also those who were jealous of him. Some people figured that a half-breed wop with a nigger for a wife didn’t deserve the kind of respect and attention that Joe had earned.
    Her mother was one of the fairest women in Harlem. Shanice Jones was a college student who moonlighted as a lounge waitress in order to finance her education. She had met Joe through her brother Bobby, and the attraction was instant. Even with the threat of being disowned by his family, he pledged his love to Shanice and asked the beautiful Black woman to be his wife. Shanice accepted his offer and they had been together ever since.
    â€œMommy,” asked a young Evelyn.