White Lines III

by Tracy Brown

  Born grinned, aware that he was caught. “What made you go all Erykah Badu with your hair?”

  Anisa laughed, displaying all of her pretty teeth. “I don’t know. I just got sick of relaxers, and weaves, and decided to go natural.” She shrugged. Changing her hair had made her feel liberated. “You like it?”

  Born nodded. “I do.”

  Anisa sipped her tea and winked at him. Even after all these years, no man she ever dated compared to Born. And, she compared them all to Born. Truthfully, she thought Jada was stupid for allowing Born to slip away. But, it was clear that that the Bonnie and Clyde team had broken up. Jada had abandoned Born in favor of her son. Anisa didn’t blame her. She just found it funny how things worked out after all.

  Born listened as Anisa told him all about her new outlook on life and about the classes she was taking at Wagner College. After a few minutes, she caught herself babbling, and felt embarrassed. She was beginning to like having Born around, and she didn’t want to scare him off with all of her talking about natural hair and psychology class.

  “Want more?” she asked, holding up the kettle.

  Born licked his lips. “More what?”

  Anisa’s smile widened. “Don’t start nothing you can’t finish.”

  Ethan entered the room, interrupting their exchange. He grabbed his lunch bag off the counter and kissed his mother good-bye. “Ready, Dad?”

  Born chuckled. “Yup. Let’s go.” He rubbed Ethan’s head, playfully, as they headed out the door. He glanced back at Anisa, liking what he was feeling. No pressure. Just going with the flow. He could get used to this.

  * * *

  Jada sat in Silver Lake Park, alone with her thoughts for the first time in weeks. A soft breeze blew. The sun shone on her face, and she wished that she could somehow freeze this moment in time.

  Sheldon was at home with the tutor who came to their house each day to give him home instruction. The administrators at his school had determined that his unpredictable behavior warranted him sitting out the rest of the school year. A child who was a danger to himself and others couldn’t be trusted to function in a traditional classroom setting. With only three weeks left of school, Sheldon had been assigned a teacher—Mr. Baez—who was well versed in Sheldon’s brand of dysfunctional behavior. From day one, Mr. Baez had made it clear that he meant business. Sheldon seemed to sense that this guy wasn’t worth testing, and during the four hours they spent together each weekday, Sheldon willingly complied with whatever Mr. Baez said. Today, Jada had seized the opportunity to unwind alone during Sheldon’s schooling.

  She had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that she just couldn’t seem to shake. Again, she had awakened from a terrible nightmare. In this one, she had the sense that she was alone in a pitch-black room, but a paralyzing fear gripped her anyway. She didn’t know how she’d gotten there or how she would get out. The absence of light was one thing. But what really sent her into a state of hysteria was a sound—like a humming noise—that started off low. Then slowly it swelled into a full crescendo of laughter. Sinister, menacing laughter. And it was familiar. It was Jamari.

  Fear gripped Jada’s throat, preventing her from crying out. She was petrified. She couldn’t make out Jamari in the blackness of the room, but there was no mistaking the sound of that voice. She stood pinned by terror in the corner against a wall. The sound got closer. Louder. Within moments, she could feel his hot breath on her face as he stood before her and laughed ominously inches from her. Jada lashed out, swinging wildly, scratching and clawing. And she had awakened from her nightmare that way, tearing at the sheets on her bed as if she were fighting for her life.

  In the hours since then, she hadn’t been able to shake this feeling of anxiety. She sensed that her conversation with Sheldon the other day had brought some long suppressed memories to the surface. She hadn’t allowed herself to give much thought to her past. Doing so usually sank her into depression. But Sheldon had questions. In the process of answering them, it was as if she had raised Jamari from the dead. In her mind, she could still hear him taunting her, having the last laugh. It made her sick to her stomach.

  She inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of flowers in bloom, willing herself to feel relaxed and refreshed. But no wave of calm washed over her. Instead, she felt a flood of tears build up, and then unwillingly plunge forth. She tried in vain to push her emotions back down deep inside but those feelings would no longer allow themselves to be brushed aside. It was as if her sadness, loneliness, and helplessness were demanding an audience now. Though she frantically wiped away her tears, they still poured forth, streaming down her face endlessly.

  She looked around, praying that no one saw her. Realizing that she was alone, she let herself go and sobbed bitterly. She cried for the years she had smoked crack while she was pregnant with Sheldon, for ever getting involved with Jamari in the first place. She cried because she knew that her past decisions had caused Sheldon to be born with the odds stacked against him. Her son was crazy. Just as twisted and cruel as his father had been. And his actions had cost her the love of her life.

  Jada laughed aloud at the absurdity of having ever believed that she could find a “happily ever after” despite the madness of her past. She must have been crazy to ever expect any outcome other than this. It occurred to her that she had spent most of her life being selfish. Just about every action, every choice had been influenced by her own self-serving desires. She had hurt everyone she had ever claimed to love—everyone who had ever truly loved her in return.

  And here she was, sitting alone in the park crying over what she was being forced to atone for. Jada was well aware that by pushing away Born she risked losing him for good this time. No one could be expected to tolerate the things that she had done to him. She had gotten high behind his back, stolen his drugs, blamed his workers for something she had done herself. She had slept with his arch enemy—albeit unwittingly—and had his child. And now that child had grown up and decided that he was not cool with their relationship. Only a fool would put up with all that she had done to Born.

  The devil on her shoulder urged her to go and get high again—to snort something or smoke something to clear her mind. To escape. Those thoughts only made her hate herself more.

  What kind of animal am I? she wondered. She had done enough harm to herself and to those she loved.

  Disgusted with herself, she wiped away her tears, berating herself silently. She didn’t deserve to escape her reality; didn’t deserve to have a normal son or a normal life. She didn’t deserve Born. And crying about it wasn’t going to change anything.

  Jada took a long, deep breath, put her sunglasses back on, and stood up. She strolled back to her car, promising herself that she would not get high ever again, that she would do whatever it took to help Sheldon regain his sanity and his happiness, even if it meant sacrificing her own.

  * * *

  Sunny’s stomach was still uneasy. As the plane taxied down the runway at JFK airport, she wanted nothing more than to be back in her luxury apartment. Visions of a long, hot bath, a drink, and some much-needed sleep in her own bed danced through her head. She did her best to ignore her longing to get high again, reminding herself that coke was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. Absentmindedly, she sniffled and wiped her nose. Marisol noticed, and shot her daughter a look of disgust, disapproval, and disappointment that broke Sunny’s heart. Sunny looked away, ashamed.

  Reuben sat in a seat across the aisle from them, and she caught his eye. Sunny felt convicted as she looked at her brother. She had fucked up, had let her whole family down, and she knew it would be a long, hard road to win back their respect.

  Once the flight attendants turned off the fasten seatbelt signs, they stood along with the other passengers as they retrieved their luggage from the overhead compartments and prepared to disembark. Sunny noticed some stares from some of the other passengers in first class, but she ignored them. This was one time t
hat she wanted to go unnoticed. Her eyes shielded behind shades, she waited impatiently as she listened to the pings of cell phones being turned back on as people reconnected to their busy lives. Sunny didn’t bother turning on hers. All she wanted was to get back home to her daughter.

  They stepped off the plane, and walked through the tunnel that led to the terminal. Marisol had called Dale while they were at the airport in Mexico and given him their flight number and arrival time. They all expected to find him waiting for them at the gate. But Sunny’s heart seized in her chest when she spotted the throng of reporters and photographers who awaited her instead. Her shock was evident as her mouth fell open at the sight of them. Shutters clicked rapidly as they snapped pictures of her and her family.

  “What the fuck!” she cried, looking around frantically at all the people swarming them. As Sunny was being ambushed, rage flooded through her. She had been set up. She had paid those Mexican bastards and they had tipped off the press anyway.

  Reuben sprang into action and took off his track jacket. He used it to shield Sunny from the photographers. Marisol’s gaze darted throughout the crowd as they pushed their way through. She was looking for Dale, but he was nowhere in sight.

  The photographers got aggressive, pushing toward Sunny in hopes of getting another shot of her stunned face. They hurled questions at her in rapid-fire succession.

  “Sunny, why were you arrested in Mexico?”

  “Are you addicted to cocaine?”

  “Where did you get the drugs, Sunny?”

  “Are you going to rehab?”

  “Sunny, over here!”

  She began to cry, and pulled her brother’s jacket tighter around her face as he held her close and ushered her through the swarm.

  In the midst of the fracas, Marisol felt her cell phone vibrating in the pocket of her jeans. She pulled it out as she trotted alongside Sunny, who was sandwiched between her and Reuben. To her relief, she saw Dale’s photo and number flash across the screen. She answered breathlessly.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in the car right outside of baggage claim. Come straight out. The whole place is packed with paparazzi. I had to cover up Mercedes and rush her back to the car because they kept trying to take her picture and ask her questions.”

  Marisol’s heart sank. “She’s here?”

  Mercedes’ presence was the last thing they needed right now.

  “Yeah,” Dale confirmed. “She wanted to surprise Sunny.” He realized the irony in that. Until they’d arrived at the airport, Mercedes hadn’t known about her mother’s arrest. She had been told that Marisol had gone to get Sunny because Sunny’s passport had been stolen. But the truth came from one of the paparazzi. Mercedes sat, devastated in the backseat. “Just come straight outside,” Dale repeated. “We’ll send Raul back for the luggage later on.”

  It was the longest trip of their lives, walking from the airport terminal to the exit. The bloodthirsty paparazzi grew increasingly aggressive. Reuben shoved one of them as he jostled the trio while they maneuvered through the crowd. Marisol bitterly cursed at them in Spanish. All Sunny could do was cry as she walked, her head down and Reuben’s jacket shielding her face. She had never been more humiliated.

  At last, they reached the outdoors and Reuben spotted his father’s Benz. Dale sped up to the curb and Reuben did his best to block Sunny and Marisol as they quickly slid into the backseat beside Mercedes. He shut the door once they were inside and then scrambled into the passenger seat. He quickly shut the door as Dale sped off. Mercedes sat crying silently, and at the sight of her Sunny broke down sobbing, too. She pulled her daughter close and hugged her as they both bawled amid the flashing lights of the paparazzi.

  6

  DÉJÀ VU

  Sunny stared at Mercedes, who pretended not to notice. They sat on opposite ends of the sofa in Sunny’s parents’ living room. Her brothers and her parents stared at her expectantly. She eyed her daughter closely, wishing that she could find the words to make it alright, but coming up empty. Mercedes had barely uttered a word since their escape from the airport. In fact, no one really had. Reporters were staked out at Sunny’s apartment building in Manhattan. Jenny G had warned Dale there was no way for Sunny and Mercedes to get into the high-rise undetected. There were vans full of mysterious looking strangers armed with cameras and microphones at every one of the building’s entrances. So Sunny and Mercedes had taken refuge at her parents’ home in Brooklyn, at least until things died down. Sunny felt trapped. She felt like a child who had messed up majorly, and was awaiting the wrath of her parents with a mixture of fear and anxiety. Only it wasn’t her parents she was worried about the most. It was her daughter.

  Sunny had been here before. Years ago, when Dorian had come to meet her family for the first time, she had sat surrounded by her family as nervous and anxious as she was at this moment. Back then, her nervousness had been due to her concern over whether or not her family would like Dorian as much as she did. Thinking back on that now it seemed so trivial. This time, she was on the hot seat for real. The people she loved were demanding to know how she could thoughtlessly risk everything for the sake of getting high again.

  Sunny decided that she owed it to them to tell them the whole truth, no matter how painful it was. She took a deep breath, glanced over at thirteen-year-old Mercedes who was staring at her blankly, and Sunny began.

  “I was bored,” she said, honestly. “I know that sounds crazy, but it’s the truth. I was bored, and I was lonely. I don’t think I ever got over Dorian’s death. I wake up every day and I do what I have to do, but I haven’t really lived since he died.” She wiped the tears that had begun to stream down her cheeks. “I had the money, and my career was going good … but I was not happy.”

  “Not happy?” Marisol asked, incredulously. “How can you be unhappy with all the shit you have going for you, Sunny?”

  Dale touched Marisol gently on her arm, willing her to hush and let Sunny continue. Marisol shook her head in frustration, folded her arms across her chest, and sat back in her seat. She wanted to wring Sunny’s neck, but first she wanted to hear the whole story. She had to know how things had gone so horribly wrong.

  Sunny could see the disappointment and anger in her mother’s eyes. She could hear the condemnation in her tone. Still, she continued.

  “I know it was selfish. Obviously, I see that now. But I convinced myself that I could handle it. I handled it before, I thought I could do it again.”

  Marisol sucked her teeth loudly. Sunny did her best to ignore her. Her father cleared his throat.

  “When did you relapse? I didn’t see any signs that you were getting high again.” Dale seemed genuinely perplexed. “Did you start back again recently?”

  Sunny shot a glance at her mother. It was Marisol’s turn to squirm in her seat. Sunny knew that her mother had suspected that she was getting high again. On a couple of occasions, Marisol had stopped just short of accusing Sunny. Sunny suspected that her mother’s reluctance to call her out was due to her fear of being cut off financially. Marisol avoided Sunny’s gaze.

  Sunny tore her eyes away and looked at her father. “I started using again during my trip to L.A. It was my first time using cocaine in ten years.”

  Dale shook his head in dismay. He should have known there was more to that trip than Sunny had let on. The press had relentlessly covered the story of the groupie found dead in Sean Hardy’s mansion. Dale had watched the coverage of Malcolm leading Sunny through a swarm of photographers and reporters after she was questioned at the police station about the events that led up to the young lady’s death. He should have known that there was more to the story of that night than Sunny had let on.

  Reuben, too, realized that he had missed the signs that the L.A. trip had brought back the old Sunny. He had picked her up at the airport when she returned, had watched her stroll over to his car with her eyes masked behind dark shades. He remembered her bursting into tears at the sight of
Mercedes, and realized now that it had been guilt eating away at his sister then.

  Sunny thought back to the night in Sean’s bedroom when she’d gotten high, and danced away the night locked in a room with a stranger who had overdosed. It was one of the lowest points of her life. But at the time it had felt like pure bliss.

  “It was like being reunited with an old friend,” she said, softly. “I missed getting high so much. It made me forget about the loneliness, forget about the boredom. When I started using again, I had a secret that nobody knew about—not Jada, Malcolm, nobody. And it was like old times again.” She shrugged, shook her head, and the tears came again. “Then I got to Mexico with Malcolm, and I told myself that I was going to stop using. I realized that I had so much going for myself.” She looked over at Mercedes and saw the blank expression on her daughter’s face as she sat silently in the corner, her legs curled beneath her in the armchair as she listened intently to her mother’s story. Her face betrayed no emotion as she listened, uttering not even the slightest sound. That hurt Sunny more than anything, knowing that her baby was disappointed in her to the point of stone silence. She knew that behind Mercedes’ blank expression was tremendous disgust.

  Sunny could only imagine the thoughts that were going through her child’s head at the moment. Contempt, bitterness, embarrassment, just to name a few. The knowledge that she was no longer her daughter’s hero was what broke her heart the most. Tears flowed down Sunny’s cheeks and she sobbed softly.

  “I got to Mexico and I met these ladies in the bathroom. They were snorting coke, so I asked them where I could get some. They put me in touch with this guy, and I went to meet him to buy drugs. Malcolm found out about it.” She intentionally left out the attempted robbery, the fact that she had slit a man’s throat and left him dead on the side of the road. She wasn’t going to confess that to anyone, and she wondered if she could trust Malcolm’s cowardly ass to keep his mouth shut. She was so angry with him and so unsure of his loyalty that she was seriously contemplating killing him to ease her mind about the whole thing.