Ink for the Beloved

by R C Barnes

  “Your actions put Nick in jail,” my mother said. “This is serious.”

  “I didn’t put Nick in jail,” I responded. “The big bag of pills and the other stuff in his jacket put him in jail.” And, I thought to myself, his previous drug charges are going to keep him there for a while.

  “The police wouldn’t have found the bag if you hadn’t called them.”

  “The police came because the neighbors called. He was screaming at the house with Echo and me inside.”

  “He was screaming at the house because you threw a bucket of water on him.” Todd jumped in.

  I shifted my gaze to look squarely at Todd. “He gets wet, and he goes ballistic? He needs anger management.”

  I could see Todd’s fury intensify. In fact, his hands were forming into fists. My mother saw this as well, and she lightly touched his arm. The hands relaxed, but his fury stayed engaged. He was shooting laser bolts with his eyes in my direction.

  “Elizabeth, why did you throw water on Nick?’ My mother asked.

  “You ruined the pills in the bag. Water slopped in his jacket.” Todd interjected.

  I looked at Todd with an expression I hoped read as “so what.” “The police took the drugs. So now they have ruined drugs and melted pills. Who cares?”

  Once again, my mother touched Todd’s arm to keep him from balling his fists.

  “You’re going to have to pay for that,” Todd said.

  I looked at him with an expression I hoped read as “You are crazy if you think that,” and then said, “I don’t think so.”

  My mother stepped in between us. “Let me talk to her,” she said. “Darling, go on down to the bedroom. I’ll be there soon.” My stomach knotted at the term of endearment.

  Todd stormed out of the kitchen, and we could hear him stomping to the bedroom. The door slammed. Perhaps he was the one needing anger management.

  My mother sat down across from me at the table. She reached for my hand, but I refused to give it to her. I kept my arms crossed over my chest.

  “Elizabeth, this really is serious.”

  “Don’t you see Todd cares more about the drugs than he does that his friend tried to break down the house?”

  She tilted her head and peered intently at my face. She looked like she was attempting to telepathically extract something from my brain. “What’s going on with you?” she asked.

  “Nothing is going on with me,” I tossed back. “What’s going on with you?”

  She pulled down the neckline of her sweater, revealing the petals of a flower and a vine crossing over her shoulder. “What are you talking about? I’m an open book to you.”

  I reared back. I wasn’t going for it. I knew my mother’s despair was inked all over her body. I wasn’t touching a single tattoo to learn anything about her. The beautiful designs on her body were expressions of grief. There was no joy embedded in the color.

  “Don’t do that,” I said. “You know I won’t touch them.”

  “Then what do you want to know?” she cried out. “What do you want to say to me?”

  “TODD!” I exploded. “He’s a creep. An enormous creep. He’s awful. He lies to you, and you’re just blind to it all.”

  “What has he lied to me about?”

  “He lies to you about what he’s doing. He misleads you all the time,” I said.

  “Like what? Give me an example.”

  “What does he tell you he does for a living?”

  “He’s in-between jobs right now, but Todd brings people together and gets a commission for it. Like an agent.”

  “Does he do this for someone?”

  “Not now. Like I said, he’s in-between work, but he’s like a connector person.”

  Seriously, mom. Do you hear yourself?

  “Does he have any money?” I asked.

  “Not a lot,” my mother responded. “But he pays for things. And I’ve started giving him money from Cosmic Hearts because of all the work he does with the Beloved ceremonies.”

  “How much money?

  " I challenged.

  “Not much.” She shrugged. “Like a commission.”

  I was pretty sure the funds were coming out of the 5% increase I had seen in the rates.

  “How about when we had the break-in at Cosmic Hearts, and he was at the shop in the morning,” I brought up. “You said he was there to get your glasses.”

  “He was.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Elizabeth, I won’t have that. He was getting my glasses; I had forgotten I asked him to do it.”

  And there it was again, another lie. My mother was covering for him, and she didn’t even realize she was covering. Because I knew her glasses weren’t at the shop that morning. I had seen them in the kitchen when I had gone out the back door. Todd must have picked them up after I left and then offered to retrieve them from the shop after convincing my mother she must have left them there.

  It was a ruse to be at the shop. He was doing something there.

  “Bess,” my mother was attempting to get my attention. ‘What is going on with you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re so hostile.”

  I took a deep breath and blew the air out of my nose. Her body leaned forward on the table. She had her arm out and her palm up, waiting for me to place my hand in hers. In moments like these, she laid out the clean arm - the one without the sparrows. Given my ability, it was a conscious choice. It was an indication our bond was separate from her sorrows. I was her daughter, not just a survivor. I looked at her gesture of peace and shook my head. No, I wasn’t taking her hand tonight.

  “I want him to go away,” I said. Water rushed into my eyes.

  My mother bowed her head and withdrew her hand. She placed it on her lap. “That’s not going to happen,” she said.

  “Why?” I asked. Tears had started to run down my face.

  “I love him,” she said.

  The words penetrated my heart, and I gasped out loud. The catch in my breathing created a hiccup through my tears. My brain felt numb, and the hiccuping and the tears were keeping me from getting oxygen into my system. My mother just sat across from me. Her head turned as if she was blocking out my heartache and refusing to watch me fall apart on the other side of the table.

  Finally, I got a hold of myself, so I could speak. “That’s impossible,” I blubbered out. “You can’t love him.”

  “I do,” my mother replied. But she sounded like the decision had just been made. As if something in her mind had just clicked firmly into place. “He makes me happy.”

  She got up from the table and exited the kitchen, leaving me with my arms folded across my chest, protecting my heart, and crying like a fool. She wasn’t going to do anything. It was up to me to fix it.

  Dear Jehovah, I lost count. I think I had twenty. Does that sound right? Weren’t you watching?

  SANITY CHECKIN NUMBER TWO

  The text message was vague, but I knew who it was from. Because of the restraining order, I had scrubbed Luther’s contact info from my phone. I couldn’t risk Terry picking up the device and seeing messages from Luther. I knew his number when it popped up and then quickly deleted any message.

  “I have info,” was all the text said.

  I hopped on my bike and rode out to his shop. The business was already closed for the day. However, there was a note taped to the door. No name was written on it, but I assumed it was for me. I was right. The paper simply said, “Shattuck theater 5:20”.

  The Shattuck theater had many movies playing, but only one was scheduled for 5:20. It was a historical drama. I groaned. I’m not a fan of dramas, but Luther loves them. Clever, Luther, clever. You trick me into seeing some movie about the first black person to do whatever because you know I want to hear what you have to say. Plus, movie theaters are dark, and no one can see us inside.

  I went up to the ticket booth. The lady behind the glass stared at me. She was wearing an obvious wig of a hairstyle th
at was twenty years too young for her, and serious dewlaps were swinging from her neck. (Dewlaps is a bonus SAT word, by the way) “Are you Elizabeth?” she asked.

  I nodded, “yes.” I was mesmerized by the way the extra folds of skin bobbed as she spoke. It was like seeing an enormous dog with floppy jowls talking to you. There is a special breed that has them. I was trying to come up with what those dogs were called, and the woman spoke to me again. “Here,” she said and pushed a ticket under the glass window. “Your dad already bought your ticket.”

  I took the ticket, watching the skin flap as she spoke and turned her head. It was very distracting.

  Mastiff! An English mastiff! The name of the dog came to me as I handed the guy in uniform my ticket. I must have said the name out loud because his nose wrinkled up in distaste, the way you do when someone is acting a little strange. Maybe he knew I was talking about his fellow employee, but he simply responded, “You’re in theater number 6. It’s in the back.”

  The theater lobby was decorated with holiday lights. A big plastic tree with red plastic snowflakes sat off to my right. I passed the concession stand, and my stomach started rumbling as the smell of popcorn always triggers that response. I think they do it on purpose. They make the popcorn right when you are entering the theater, so you must buy it, or your brain is too distracted to watch the movie. I didn’t have any money, so I would have to hit Luther up for some.

  As I neared the area where the back movie screens were located, I saw a horror film I did want to see was playing next door. Maybe I’ll run in, see Luther, talk to him, and then leave and catch the movie I really want to watch. I like horror films, but Joanie refuses, and Rueben doesn’t like movies unless there is a hobbit in it.

  But leave it to Luther to have every angle covered. I entered the theater. It wasn’t that big, and I spotted Luther immediately. He’s hard to miss - even in the dark. I took the seat next to him, and his eyes sidled over in my direction.

  “Took you long enough,” he muttered.

  “Hey, can I have money for popcorn? I’ll get a large and share.”

  “I don’t know. I’m trying to watch my weight.” He patted his stomach.

  “I’ll get a small then.”

  “Naw, get a large.” He leaned forward so he could remove a wallet from his back pocket. He pulled out a twenty. My eyes went wide. “I want my change,” he said with emphasis. “And hurry back, the previews are about to end.”

  “I want to know what you were going to tell me. That’s why I came.”

  “You know I’m not saying anything until after the movie is over. I’m keeping your butt in this seat. You need to learn stuff about important people in our history. So, no going next door to see Slasher Dan or whoever kill dumb teenagers in the woods.”

  God, this man had me pegged. He literally read my mind. I was actually happy with the notion of sitting and watching a movie with Luther, no matter how educational, but I didn’t want him to think he had won, so I scowled at him before I left. At the concession stand, I had the girl put extra butter on the popcorn.

  The movie was actually pretty good, but it was one of those where the lead character was too earnest for his own good. I get the importance of legacy, but these people in movies who accomplish great things are never exciting characters. They walk through the film with giant halos over their heads.

  As I pondered this, I literally thought about my mother for half a second. Now she’s exciting, and many people want to be in her presence. Many people love her. I was sitting next to a man who loved her. He still loved her. I loved her. But I realized that I don’t really like her. She’s complicated and tough to live with. I once read somewhere that Benjamin Franklin was a lousy dad. A founding father was a terrible father. I think about that sometimes when I think about my mother.

  Luther is one of those people who sit through the entire credits. He calls it giving respect to the people who make the movie happen. I call it making me wait another fifteen minutes and getting back at me for the extra butter on the popcorn.

  Finally, the credits were done, and the last remnants of people exited the theater. Luther turned to me and asked, “You remember when Echo was sick and in the hospital?”

  Of course, I remembered. It was the best of times and the worst. That was the trigger that sent my mother into raging loony town.

  Luther continued, “There was this girl. She was staying at your house. She was this odd girl with yellow hair…”

  “She smelled like cookies,” I piped in. “I remember her.”

  “She died about a year ago. Drug overdose.”

  My jaw dropped open as I stared at Luther. I don’t know why I was shocked except to say that this was the first time that someone I knew had died. I didn’t know this girl well, but I remembered her. I remembered how she smelled, and I remembered the way she giggled. “Amy Honeywell was her name,” I said.

  “Yes, that’s it,” Luther confirmed. “I saw something in Berkeleyside, and they had her picture, which caught my attention. I don’t know if your mother saw it. She doesn’t look at a newspaper unless they have a crossword puzzle.”

  Luther was hunched over and speaking in a conspiratorial manner, even though we were the only ones left in the theater. The cleaning crew had come in with their plastic bags and brooms.

  “So, this is what I want to tell you…Ollie and I had to make that girl leave the house. Echo was sick, and your mother was away, worrying in the hospital. This girl, Amy, was sleeping on the couch and eating up the food. Then Ollie started noticing things were missing. They were little things, but stuff that could be sold. Your mother doesn’t have a lot of jewelry, but a watch of Ollie’s’ went missing, and there was a leather designer purse that had belonged to your grandmother that disappeared from the hall closet.”

  Hearing something belonging to my grandmother had been stolen made me angry. Not that I would have ever used the purse, but it was the principle of the thing. She was the only grandmother I had.

  “One night, we sat down, and the two of us told this girl, Amy, that she had to leave. We didn’t accuse her of the thefts but just pointed out that it wasn’t proper for her to continue to stay at the house. Believe it or not, this girl argued with us, saying that Terry had said she could be her guest and that Terry said it would be fine, and Terry said, Terry said, Terry said. Ollie looked like he wanted to throttle the girl, I don’t blame him. Ollie explains Terry isn’t in her right mind now; her daughter is dying, and you need to leave. Amy was still all huffy. I get it, she had no place to go. But she was stealing, and your mother wasn’t around to do anything about it.”

  For a few seconds, I didn’t hear what Luther was saying because I was focusing on the words “her daughter is dying.” Had Echo really been that close to death? I shuddered, thinking about how different things would be if that little loving mess of a child were no longer in my life.

  “And then Ollie tells her that we’re going to throw her out. Which was news to me. But he looks in my direction, and Amy takes it that I’m the muscle and will physically remove her. Ollie was furious about the watch.”

  “Why didn’t you have the police get rid of her?”

  Luther looked at me like I had a purple horn coming out of my head.

  “Never mind,” I said. “That was stupid. Keep going.”

  Luther continued. “The day comes when Amy is picking up her stuff that Ollie had left on the porch outside of what would become your room. I guess she was worried about me because she had all these guys with her. She said it was to help carry stuff, but there were only three boxes, and she had five fellas with her. I just stood there and watched them remove her belongings from the porch. Ollie hid inside the house. He was done with the whole thing.”

  I nodded. This was like what I had overheard Luther tell Ollie back when it happened.

  “While everyone else was taking the stuff down the steps, there were these two fools who stood in front of me like they were going to
take me or something. One of them even says you can’t make Amy leave; you don’t live here. I said something about the tenant of the house wanting her gone. Meaning Ollie. And then this guy sneers and says something about Ollie not being a tenant that he just crashed there like Amy was doing. I didn’t respond to this guy because the girl’s stuff was already off the porch, and Ollie had changed the locks to the house.”

  A chill went through my body. “What did he look like? This guy?”

  “That’s the thing, baby girl. That’s what I wanted to tell you. This guy was tall and blond. His hair was in a long ponytail. But you once mentioned this Todd smiles with a big shit-eating grin, and that’s what this guy was doing. He threatens you, and he smiles while he’s doing it.”

  My head was continuing to bob up and down. “That’s what Todd does. It’s like a crocodile.”

  “And then I did something foolish,” Luther said. “One night last week, when your mom was having one of those tattoo ceremonies, I took a window seat at the pizza place across the street. And I looked to see if this fellow was the one that I saw several years ago. It’s been a long time, and he’s cut his hair, but that Todd guy looks like the friend of Amy Honeywell’s who challenged me. It was the big toothy smile that you talked about that got me thinking.”

  My mind raced with this information. Amy Honeywell was a druggie, and perhaps Todd had been one of her druggie friends. Years ago, Todd had been at the house and even questioned the tenancy arrangements. I looked up at Luther. “Doesn’t Ollie have a lease arrangement with my mother?”

  Luther answered. “He does now. But at that moment, back then, Ollie didn’t. It was a verbal arrangement, but I told him he needed to get Terry to put it in writing. He did after Echo was better and things were fine. But having that lease saved him when Terry and I had that fight, and… you know…” He sighed.

  Yeah, I knew well enough.

  Amy Honeywell was dead. Had Todd been her supplier back then? Fear was creeping inside me like chilly fingers of fog that blanket us from the Bay.