I sniffed, nodding as I balled up the paper towel and tossed it in the trash.
“Look, this is all too fresh. You go home, get some rest. I’ll get your number from Felise, and we’ll talk soon, okay?”
I knew she was right. I needed to get out of there. But I also needed to figure out what was going on before I lost my mind.
17
Felise
THIS ISN’T ABOUT ME. THAT’S what I had to keep telling myself as I gathered up the strength to knock on Paula’s door. I had to focus on my goddaughter, who needed me right then. Nothing else mattered.
“Hey,” Paula’s sister said, opening the door. Although I had known Charlene for years, I didn’t think she cared too much for me. Paula always said that Charlene was jealous of how close she and I were. Her sister was never rude or anything, but she wasn’t overly nice either.
“Hi, Charlene. When did you get in?”
She gave me a polite hug. “I just got in. Trying to get everything situated.” She stepped aside to let me in.
“Tahiry called me. I was worried about her, so I came over,” I said as I cautiously advanced into the living room. I was praying that I didn’t see Paula.
“Yeah, she’s not doing too well,” Charlene replied.
“Where’s Paula and the boys?”
“The boys are upstairs moping around, too. Paula is asleep. Do you want me to wake her up?”
I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. “Nah, let her sleep.”
“Hey, Nana.”
I looked up to see Tahiry’s long figure coming down the stairs. She had on some cut-off jeans and a tank top. Her long natural hair was pulled back haphazardly into a ponytail. Over the past year Tahiry had sprouted into a young woman. Today, though, she looked like a helpless little girl.
“Hey, sweetie. I just came by to check on you. Maybe get you out of the house,” I said, trying to will a smile to come.
Her eyes were swollen and sunken. She leaned up against the railing. “And go where?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Wherever you’d like to go.”
She thought about that for a moment, then said, “I want to go back to the past. When my daddy was home.”
“Oh, honey.” I opened my arms, and she all but fell into them. She cried silent tears as I led her over to the sofa.
I let her cry for a while before I leaned back and dabbed her face. “You know what? Why don’t we go get something to eat? How about we go to that new seafood restaurant downtown?”
She grew solemn again. “My dad had promised to take me there soon.”
“Well, then that’s definitely where we need to go. We need to go in his honor,” I announced.
She managed a faint smile. “Really?”
I nodded. “Yes, really.”
“Can we also go find me something to wear? I don’t have a dress to wear to the funeral, and Mom . . .”
“And your mother is distraught,” I said, finishing the sentence. “That’s why I’m here. We’ll let her rest, and I’m going to do whatever I need to do to help you through this.”
She hugged me again. “Thank you, Nana. Just give me a minute to change,” she said before darting up the stairs.
Charlene had remained at the entrance to the living room, saying nothing. To relieve the tension of our mutual silence, I asked, “Will you be okay with the boys?”
She nodded. “They’re my nephews. I can take care of them.” But then she let her attitude go and added, “Sorry. Everyone is so stressed. The boys are upstairs just watching TV, not really saying anything. You know, none of us are used to that.”
I walked over and hugged her. She was caught off guard but finally hugged me back.
“I know I’m not there for Paula like I should be. It’s just . . . so hard,” I said.
She gave me a genuine smile. “Well, you’re there for Tahiry, right? And that’s good because I’m not the greatest with teens.”
“She’ll be okay,” I said. “You take care of Paula and the boys, and I’ll make sure Tahiry makes it through this.”
Charlene seemed happy with this proposal. So was I. Taking care of Tahiry was at least one promise that I could keep.
18
Paula
HOW IN THE WORLD DO you bury the man you love, especially when he’s only thirty-six years old? How was I supposed to smile as person after person came to offer condolences?
My house felt like Grand Central Station. I didn’t even know who all was here. The last few days had passed in a blur. I know Steven’s mom and brother had arrived yesterday. They’d gone to take his suit to the funeral home this morning. I simply couldn’t do it. My sister, Charlene, had come up from DC, but really, I couldn’t entertain any of them. I felt like I was just going through the motions.
Steven’s mother, Lois, a very poised, put-together woman, approached me. She was wearing a navy St. John pantsuit, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. Even in her grief she looked like royalty. I sat at the kitchen table with the blank piece of paper in front of me. I’d yet to formulate one word. “Sweetie, you should really let me do this,” she said gently.
“No, I need to,” I said, tugging the paper toward me. I didn’t mean to sound harsh. I liked his mom, I really did. And I knew she was grieving just like me, but I didn’t want her around right then. I didn’t want anyone around when I wrote my husband’s obituary. Well, except for the one person who understood my pain because she understood me. I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t here.
“I was just trying to help,” Lois said.
“She knows that,” my mom said, stepping forward to play peacemaker. “You know she’s stressed.”
Lois nodded, flashed a sympathetic smile, then walked off.
“Mom, did you call Felise?” I asked before she walked away as well.
My mom nodded. “I did. She said she’d be by here later. She sounded broke up herself.”
“She probably is. They did use to be best friends in college.”
My mom raised an eyebrow. “Umph.” I knew she never liked how close they were, but you’d think by now, she would have gotten over it. She didn’t believe in “man sharing,” as she’d called it. But I wasn’t sharing Steven. He was mine. He had been mine.
I understood if Felise was broken up, but she couldn’t be mourning nearly as much as I was. And I needed her here with me. We could share in our grief together.
“Let me see the phone.” I motioned to my cell phone, which was sitting on the counter. “I’m going to call her.”
“I just don’t understand,” my mother said, reaching for the phone. “You’re the one grieving, but you got to call her?” She rolled her eyes as she handed me the phone.
I called Felise and it actually rang three times, and just before it went to voice mail, Felise picked up.
“Hey, Paula, how are you?” Felise asked.
“Not too good. Trying to do this obituary.” I released a long sigh. “It would be nice if I had some help.”
She didn’t respond right away. “Where is your mom?”
“She’s here. Where are you?”
“I’m at home.”
Usually, I would’ve gotten an attitude with Felise, but I didn’t have the energy, so I said, “Felise, this is so hard. I can’t do this. I need you here. Where are you?” I cried. I knew I sounded like a blubbering fool.
“I, ah . . .”
“Please, Felise. I know this is hard on you, too. But you’re the only one who knows what I’m going through. His mom doesn’t know about the fight, and I . . . I just need you.”
She held back for a moment, then said, “Okay, okay. I’m on my way.”
“Thanks, Felise. See you in a bit.” I wiped away my tears, a sense of relief filling me because my best friend was on the way.
My mother stood there, a chastising look across her face. “What kind of friend do you have to beg to be there for you in your time of need?”
“I’m not begging he
r, Mama.” I waved my mom off. I wasn’t in the mood for her either. “Just please, go check on the kids, or make sure the guest room is ready for Lois, something.”
My mom threw her hands up. “Fine,” she said, stalking off. “But I’m gonna give Ms. Felise a piece of my mind.”
I hadn’t written more than a sentence in the obituary when my doorbell rang. I don’t even know who let her in, but I looked up to see Felise standing awkwardly in the doorway to the kitchen. At the sight of my best friend, I jumped from my seat and raced over to her. I couldn’t help but fall into her arms.
“Shhh, come on, sweetie. It’s going to be okay,” she said, stroking my hair.
“It’s never going to be okay again,” I cried, clutching her tightly. She let me cry for a few moments, until finally I pulled back and said, “How am I going to make it without him? I haven’t worked in years. Shoot, I don’t even know how much money we have in the bank!”
“I’m sure Steven had insurance money. You guys will be taken care of,” Felise said soothingly.
For the first time, I realized I didn’t care about the money. I just wanted my husband.
“I know.” I sniffed. I sat back down at the table and pointed to the mostly blank piece of paper in my hand. “Trying to do this obituary is killing me. I just can’t believe he’s gone. And the way he died, it’s just not adding up.”
She blinked, like she was spooked. “What are they saying?”
“They still think it was his heart. They’re doing an autopsy now.” The police officer handling Steven’s case was getting tired of me. I called that man four to five times a day. And every time I got the same answer: nothing.
“There was no investigation because police said, as of now, it appears to be natural causes,” I added.
My mom shook her head as she walked over. I didn’t fail to notice that she didn’t bother speaking to Felise.
“Ain’t nothing natural about a man dying so young.” She squeezed my hand. “But you be strong. I know you may not believe me, but you will make it through this.”
I heard what she was saying. I just couldn’t, for the life of me, see how I’d ever be able to do it.
19
Felise
I GROANED AT THE SIGHT of my sister, Mavis.
“What? Don’t give me that look,” she said, pushing past me and into Fran’s living room. I knew that she wouldn’t be able to keep her nose out of my business. After all, Mavis made her living minding other people’s business.
“Have you come to your senses and confessed yet?” She glared at me through judgmental eyes as she plopped down in the recliner.
Fran took my arm and pulled me inside since I was still standing there with the door wide open.
“Mavis, don’t come over here starting nothing,” she said. “If I had known you were going to be doing all of this, I wouldn’t have even invited you.”
I glared at Fran. “Why did you invite her?”
“Because Mama’s gone and I have to be the voice of reason,” Mavis said, cutting her eyes at Fran. “Because obviously your little sister is not.”
“Whatever. Don’t try to make me feel guilty.”
“You are guilty,” Mavis said. “And you are going to end up in the pen right along with Felise.”
“I’m too cute for the pen,” Fran said, striking a pose. “The guards and the prisoners would be fighting over me—men and women. Unh-unh, I can’t be doing all that. Shoot, I can’t even visit the pen, which is why we need to make sure Miss Guilty Conscience sticks to the plan.”
Mavis crossed her legs like she was getting comfortable, which wasn’t a good sign. I’d come over here to get my head together. If Mavis was here, that meant I was in for a long lecture.
“So for real, Felise. What are you going to do?” she asked.
“She’s going to do exactly what she’s been doing,” Fran said, snuggling back into her seat on the sofa. “Play it cool.”
“How can you live with yourself?” Mavis asked. “I know the guilt has to be eating you alive. I mean for God’s sake, you’re the godmother of her child.”
“Thanks for reminding me, Mavis,” I mumbled. “I can always count on you to make me feel better.”
“You know how I do,” Mavis replied. “I am going to make you feel better. But I’m going to make you feel worse first. Maybe that will keep you from making this mistake again.”
That elicited a painful laugh. “Trust me, I won’t be sneaking up to my best friend’s husband’s hotel room ever again. I won’t be sneaking to any man’s room, not after last time,” I said.
Fran frowned and pointed a narrow finger at Mavis. “Don’t start beating her up! She beats herself up enough. Now, here you come. That’s why don’t nobody like having your judgmental self around! Every time you open your mouth, you always want to talk about somebody else.”
“Don’t get mad at me because the two of you act like you don’t have any common sense!” Mavis snapped right back.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I let out a groan. “Ugh! Would you two shut up already?” I looked at Mavis. “Of course the guilt is eating me alive. I feel awful. I never planned for this to happen. I can’t imagine how Paula would feel if she ever found out.”
Mavis raised an eyebrow. “If? No, honey, that’s when she finds out, because I’m sorry, but she will find out.”
“Not if Felise plays her cards right,” Fran said.
“I’m sorry, Ms. CSI. You watch a couple of episodes and think you know the perfect way to cover up a murder.”
“First of all, it’s not a murder. Secondly, yes, I do watch CSI, which is why I know—”
Mavis cut her off. “Why you should know that the criminal always gets caught.”
“I’m not a criminal,” I muttered. Mavis looked at me, her eyebrow raised again.
“She’s not,” Fran reiterated.
“Honey, I know you’re not a criminal,” Mavis said, reaching out to cover my hand. “But this whole cover-up is criminal, and even if leaving him there wasn’t criminally wrong, it was morally wrong. Being there with him was morally wrong!”
“Okay, and so what do you want her to do about it now?” Fran said. “Seriously, she made a mistake. In your perfect world, she should just go tell her husband, tell Paula, tell the police. Then they’ll all pray on it, forgive her, and let her go on her merry little way, right?” Fran tsked in disgust as she fell back on the sofa. “You and that fantasyland you live in drive me crazy.”
Mavis ignored her and continued talking to me. “Fefe,” she said, calling me by the nickname my mom used to call me whenever I was in trouble, “I know that you didn’t mean for this to come out the way it did. I just am worried because I don’t want this to blow up in your face. And my gut is telling me that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”
“What do you suggest I do?” I said. Her words were really starting to get to me.
“A web of lies eventually gets tangled,” she replied. “As difficult as it is, come clean.”
Fran jumped up like she could tell Mavis was getting through to me and she needed to nip this in the bud right away. “And say what? ‘Hey, Paula, I know I helped you through the funeral and let you cry on my shoulder and everything, but I was with your husband the night he died. We were getting it on, and it must’ve sent his heart into overdrive, but if it makes you feel better, he died feeling good.’ Really, Mavis? Is that what she should do?”
Mavis sighed like that sounded ridiculous even to her.
“I just know right is right,” Mavis muttered.
“All I’m saying,” Fran continued, turning her attention to me, “is you have to pull it together and keep it together. That’s all you have to do.”
“And what’s going to happen when the guilt keeps eating at her?” Mavis pointed my way. “Because I can see that it already has.”
At that moment, I caught my reflection in Fran’s ceiling-to-floor mirror. I looked a hot mess. I had on a pair
of tattered leggings and a long, dingy T-shirt with a hole in the front that I hadn’t noticed until I was in my car and on my way over here. My hair actually looked like it hadn’t been combed in a couple of days. I had no makeup on. My lips felt dry and crusty, and my eyes were swollen because I’d cried the whole way over here.
“That’s what she’s going to work on,” Fran said. She ran her eyes up and down my body. “And she will never, ever, ever wear that outfit again, looking like she’s going to work on a Habitat for Humanity project.”
I hated that they were talking about me as if I wasn’t there, but they both were right. I needed to keep it together, and I needed to come clean. But I knew if I came clean, I would lose everything. Greg would not forgive me. Shoot, his mother had pawned him off on a relative when he was eleven, returned two years later, and spent the next twenty-five years trying to get him to forgive her. To this day, Greg refused to have anything to do with his mother. And Paula, if she didn’t try to kill me, she’d never forgive me either. Then I thought about Tahiry and how much I loved her and how close she and Liz were. My betrayal would kill them both.
No, I decided, there was no way I was coming clean. I needed to learn to get over what I’d done. I’d asked God for forgiveness, and I meant it from the bottom of my heart, so I hoped that He forgave me. Now I just needed to figure out how to forgive myself and pray that it was enough to help me move on.
20
Paula
THANK GOD FOR FELISE. THAT’S all I could think as I watched her straighten Mason’s little tie. I don’t know how I would’ve made it these last few days if Felise hadn’t taken part of the load. At first, I was a little worried. She didn’t show up until I called, begging her to come, but since then she hadn’t left my side. I was glad that she was devoting more of her time to my children, especially Tahiry, than to me because I didn’t have the strength to comfort them right then. After I put my husband in the ground today, I was going to have to pull it together for my children. But first I had to get through the funeral.
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