And Then There Was Me

by Sadeqa Johnson

  While he spoke about coming home to Jesus, Bea read the obituary. She got to who Chip Campbell left behind: “Two brothers, a host of nieces and nephews, and too many cousins to count. A loving and faithful wife, Anita Campbell, and three daughters: Caroline, Corrine, and Catrina Campbell.” Nothing about Beatrice Sardina. She was not surprised to see that she had not been mentioned. It hurt but she wasn’t shocked. A few believers shouted, “Hallelujah.”

  That’s when she got up and told Awilda they were leaving. They slipped out the side door.

  * * *

  “You don’t want to go to the repast?”

  “Hell no. But I’m hungry.”

  “Come on.” There was a bus across the street and Awilda pulled Bea to hop on it.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We can stop and get some food and go to my house. My parents are at work so we can eat and chill.”

  Bea looked out of the window during the ride and Awilda didn’t push her to talk. When they got off of the bus, Awilda asked, “McDonald’s or Pizza Hut?”

  “Mickey D’s.”

  When they walked in, Awilda told her to order what she wanted. Bea ordered a Filet-O-Fish meal, a Quarter Pounder with Cheese meal, an apple pie, and cookies.

  “Damn, you’re hungry,” Awilda teased.

  Bea was embarrassed. “I didn’t have breakfast.”

  They sipped their sodas on the walk. Awilda lived on a quiet, tree-lined street. The house was a corner split-level. The girls entered through the garage door.

  “My mother thinks I went to school today, she doesn’t know I skipped.”

  “What if she comes home?”

  “Irma will call first. She knows where we are.”

  “You two worked this all out?”

  Awilda nodded her head as she took a seat at the kitchen table. They listened to Snoop Doggy Dogg while they demolished the food.

  “‘Rolling down the street smokin’ indo, sippin’ on gin and juice.’” Awilda popped her neck.

  “‘Laid back,’” Bea sang. “‘With my mind on my money and my money on my mind.’”

  “I have ice cream too.”

  “I’m too full. I shouldn’t have eaten that much.”

  “You did get down like you had the munchies.”

  Bea smiled.

  “Come on, I know how to make you feel better.”

  She led Bea down the steps to the bottom level. Down there was the family room, Awilda’s bedroom suite, and then a recreation area and a powder room. Even though Awilda’s family’s house was spacious, Bea always felt chilly inside. Awilda took Bea into her bathroom and closed the door.

  “Watch me.” She leaned her head over the toilet bowl, put her finger down her throat, and threw it all up.

  “Ewe, that’s disgusting.”

  “I feel so much better though.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Look, just put your finger here until you gag and then the food will come up. It’s not rocket science.”

  Bea followed Awilda’s instructions and after two tries found the magic spot that made her food come back up.

  “You’re right. It feels like my stomach can breathe.”

  “I wish we had a joint or something.”

  Bea didn’t wish they had a joint. The few times she’d smoked with Awilda it made her too loopy. Bea liked being in control.

  “Oh, shit.” Awilda opened the bathroom door. “You won’t believe what I found in the back of my father’s closet. Wait here.”

  Bea sat on the wraparound sofa. Awilda returned with a VHS tape in her hand and a Kool-Aid smile on her face.

  “What is that?”

  “A porno. You want to watch?”

  “Sure.”

  “Let’s brush our teeth first. My mouth feels disgusting.”

  They did and rinsed with Listerine. Awilda put the video on. The scene opened with a man knocking on the door and a woman letting him in. The two on the screen undressed quickly and went straight to it. The girls watched for a while, then Awilda turned to her.

  “Here, let me show you what it’s supposed to feel like when a boy starts sucking your titties.”

  Bea’s whole body was tingling from watching the video. “Huh?”

  “You need to be prepared when it happens. You can’t act all virginal. Like you don’t know shit.”

  Bea kept her eyes on the television while she unbuttoned the top of her dress and then unsnapped her bra. The girl in the video had her knees up in the air with the man’s head between her legs. Bea leaned back and Awilda whipped her tongue over her nipples. Then she stuck her hand under Bea’s dress, and it made the world go fuzzy.

  FOURTEEN

  Accidents Happen

  Bea tapped the magic spot and the large sausage pizza she’d had delivered from Mimmo’s Kitchen and the chocolate cake she’d picked up from Delightful Cake Kreations in Springfield came rushing out. The powder room to the left of the kitchen smelled rancid. She had been rotating bathrooms, going between the one the kids shared and the one she was in. To hide her deed, she sprayed the surfaces down with all-purpose Green Works, but even after she left the windows open for hours, the stank of her offense was still there.

  How many times had Bea thrown up? She had lost count. What she knew was that three weeks had passed since she’d read the exchange between Lonnie and his new whore, chili101, and Bea hadn’t said a word to him about it. She knew what would come next. Lonnie would say sorry like it was a song on repeat, and she wasn’t in the mood for his falsetto. Every time Bea hung her head over the toilet she promised Mena’s baby that it would be the last time, but just like Lonnie couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, she couldn’t keep her finger out of her throat.

  Bea stood at the sink in her master, rinsing her mouth with Listerine, when her cell phone rang. It was Awilda. Bea knew this because Awilda had programmed “Soul Sister” by Cree Summer as her ringtone and up flashed a picture of the two of them a few years back at Bea’s birthday party. Bea liked the picture because she wasn’t pregnant and with Awilda’s help had looked damn good in her halter dress and pink lipstick.

  I want you to feel good.

  I want you to let it all go.

  “Hey, sis.”

  “Bease. Can you meet me at the school? Something terrible has happened!” Awilda’s voice was high pitched and screeching.

  “What?”

  “Just hurry.”

  Bea scribbled down the address of where Awilda taught summer school. Between the binge and Awilda’s call, her belly felt woozy, like she was on a ship swishing around at sea. Awilda always had to play little dramatic mind games. She could have told her what the emergency was instead of having Bea worry the whole drive. When she pulled up to the high school, Awilda was standing out front wearing a tight blouse and pleated skirt.

  “Un-freaking-believable.” Awilda came to the passenger side window and stuck her head in.

  “Would you tell me what the problem is, Ms. Drama?” Bea gripped the steering wheel. She had enough going on without Awilda getting her pressure up.

  “The damn fools broke into my car. Snatched out my radio, busted in my back window. My laptop was in there and some fabric that I went all the way into the city to purchase for a dress I’m making. I just want to holler.”

  Bea took a deep breath, trying to get her own emotions in check.

  “Two nights ago a pipe burst in the basement, flooding the whole laundry room, and now this. Who has the money to pay for all of this mess?”

  “Your insurance should cover it,” Bea said, working hard at being the voice of reason.

  “Yeah, however long that takes.” She opened the door and got in. “The tow truck took my car. Where are the kids? Can you take me home?”

  “They’re at playground camp until three-thirty.”

  Awilda fiddled with the radio station. “I don’t know how much more I can handle.”

  Bea hadn’t told Awilda what she’d found on Lonnie’s
phone in D.C. She couldn’t take Awilda stirring in her two cents and making her feel even sourer.

  “I’m hungry.”

  An expert at driving and doling out snacks, Bea reached into her bag and tossed Awilda a granola bar and a small bag of pretzels. “There’s some bottled water in the trunk if you’d like me to pull over? I can polish your shoes too while I’m at it.”

  Awilda rubbed Bea’s belly. “Always taking care of me, Bea.”

  * * *

  Awilda’s house was on the border of two neighborhoods, one considered seedy, the other posh and popular. She lived at the edge, on a dead end block that backed into a park. All of the houses were a bit different from each other. Her neighbors were a mix of eclectic and traditional and Bea loved to comb through their things when they hosted their annual spring yard sale.

  “You coming in?”

  “Yeah, I should say hello to Derrick. Is he home?”

  “Where else could he be? He doesn’t have a job, thanks to his mother.”

  “Wilde, stop. Mercy, remember?”

  Awilda unlocked the door. The house was dark and smelled moldy or musky or both. Bea walked over to the living room window, pulled back the curtains, and turned back the blinds.

  “Derrick,” Awilda yelled. “Bea’s here to see you.” Awilda headed into the kitchen and pulled an ice-cold Pepsi from the fridge. “You want one?”

  “Shouldn’t have too much caffeine. Just a quarter of a glass.” Bea sat down on the leather sofa thinking about the irony of worrying over caffeine when she couldn’t keep her food down. The material snapped and crackled beneath her.

  Derrick’s footsteps were heavy on the steps and he trudged toward them. He was wearing a white T-shirt and jean shorts. He could use a haircut and his belly was rounder than it had been at the beach. Was that the last time that Bea saw him?

  “Hey Bea.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Baby ready to come out?”

  “Almost cooked. Thank goodness.”

  “Did you eat?” Awilda interrupted.

  “Not really.”

  “I left some veggie pasta in the fridge for you.” She sounded as if she was talking to Amare.

  “I’ll get to it.” Derrick leaned against the banister.

  “I’m going to check on the water in the basement. Have you been down there?”

  “Early this morning. It seems fine.”

  Awilda headed to the back of the house and down the stairs.

  “How have you been? You haven’t been coming around.”

  “I’ve been so-so. Trying to keep busy. Started taking on small jobs in the neighborhood and helping my mom with some stuff.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “Yea, get your girl off my case. She thinks I’m one of her little schoolchildren.”

  Bea giggled. “Awilda thinks we are all her children. Remember that time she couldn’t find me because I dropped my phone in the toilet?”

  Derrick nodded.

  “Man, you would have thought I ran away from home the way she was acting. Point is she loves you. Don’t let that hard shell fool you. She’s scared, this is new territory for her and you know Awilda does not like change.”

  “That’s why she’s still walking around with the iPhone 4—because she doesn’t want the new charger.”

  Bea laughed but she could see from the expression in his weary eyes that he was broken. She knew the feeling. The look. The way depression started in the shoulders and made its way down to the fingertips.

  “Look,” she said, standing. “This is messed up, and it’s okay for you to feel that. One of my favorite authors, Clarissa Pinkola Estés, said, ‘I too have felt despair many times in my life, but I don’t keep a chair for it; I will not entertain it. It’s not allowed to eat from my plate.’”

  “I hear you, Bea. Thanks.” He helped her from the sofa and they hugged.

  Bea was better at giving advice than listening to her own heart. “Anytime. Call me anytime. I actually have a project at the house I could use a hand with. Are you free tomorrow?”

  “I could swing by.”

  “Okay, around nine.”

  Awilda came upstairs with a basket of laundry. Bea wasn’t used to seeing her as a domestic and Awilda caught her smirk.

  “Ya’ll talking about me?”

  “No, never.”

  “Whatever.”

  Bea gathered her purse and keys. “I’ve got to run. You two take care of one another.”

  * * *

  Bea steered her SUV in the direction of Evergreen, wishing that she could take her own advice. She had lied to Derrick. Despair was eating off her plate. Had made room for itself at every meal and pushed her into the bathroom to release it back up. Even after that it clung to her sweat.

  She had been here before with Lonnie but each time didn’t make it easier. Instead, it marked her as a failure. Bea wasn’t used to failing at anything. She had passed her driving test the first time. Scored higher than 85 percent of students taking the SATs. Was inducted into the National Honor Society. Finished first in her class in nursing school and even held study groups to help her peers. Motherhood was a challenge but it was in marriage that she scored her first F. Why wasn’t she enough for her husband? She had lost count of the chances she had given Lonnie. Boy, had she tried. She should have run when they were living together in D.C. and he took her heart in his hand and crushed it that first time.

  Bea recalled surprising him at work with his favorite beef-and-pork lasagna. It had taken her over two hours to prepare the meal. From chopping the onions, peppers, mushrooms, tomatoes, and garlic that gave the dish flavor to grating the cheese by hand—provolone, mozzarella, and Romano. Then kneading the meat with spices and browning it on the stovetop.

  She had baked the lasagna in a tin pan and wrapped it in two layers of heavy-duty aluminum foil, then stuffed the pan into a nylon insulated food bag. When it touched his lips, she wanted the cheeses and meat to melt against his tongue like butter so that he would know how much she loved him. Bea didn’t drink much but she had even put a chilled beer in the side pocket of the bag to wash his dinner down.

  On the walk down the hall to his office, she kept picturing the surprised look on his face. They had both been putting in so many hours at work that they had not shared a meal in a few days. When she rounded the corner and opened his office door, he had his trousers down around his ankles. The front-desk receptionist, Heather, was bent over his desk while he grunted and plunged into her like a starved man.

  Bea dropped the food bag. All of her hard work crashed to the floor. When Lonnie turned to see that it was her, he pushed Heather away.

  “Bea, Christ.” He fumbled for his clothes.

  She ran. He tried to follow her but got caught up fixing his pants and Bea was fast. She took the stairs instead of the elevator. Straight from his office she drove her car to Union Station, parked it in the lot, and then caught the eight-thirty train back to her mother’s house in New Jersey. Irma was alarmed when her daughter showed up so late but she had the decency to let her go to bed with the promise to discuss it in the morning.

  Bea called in sick to work and moped around the house for a week, eating way too much fast food and ignoring her mother’s reasons for why she should go back. Lonnie called four, five times a day but she wouldn’t take the phone. He sent Godiva chocolate truffles and bouquets of ranunculus, orchids, and tulips. When none of his gifts worked, he showed up at her door in all ivory linen, hat in his hand, hair slicked and shining, smelling like he just stepped from the shower.

  “Mija, men make mistakes,” her mother said, pushing her out the door. “He’s a good man and he loves you.”

  Bea wished she’d listened when Oprah told her viewers, “When people show you who they are, believe them the first time.” Instead she stood there listening to Lonnie as he proposed marriage to her with a two-carat emerald-cut ring with pavé diamonds in the platinum band. All her mother’s prayers had been an
swered. He wanted to make an honest woman out of her. She married Lonnie six months later on a beach in the Dominican Republic.

  Now she was elbow deep in twelve years of stuff: a mortgage, two sprouting children, the suburbs, and no source of income of her own. What was she supposed to do? Let the floozies win? Take back all that she had sacrificed her adult life for? Single people were pitied. Divorced mothers were looked at as culprits, not the victims. Her children were growing up with privileges that most kids couldn’t even dream of. Hell, she was too, even if she was miserable. How could she keep that up without Lonnie? He provided it all.

  Bea had never intended to stay home. Work had been a constant part of her adult life and she was good at what she did. Lonnie had suggested that she take time off when Chico was born and she did, for six months, and then they hired a nanny. Once Alana was born, she decided on her own to double the time at home because of Alana’s low birth weight and the worry over her cognitive development. The remorse of putting her daughter’s life in jeopardy before she had even been born was heart-wrenching. As a mother and a nurse, Bea needed to watch Alana’s every developmental milestone to make sure she hadn’t damaged her with her illness. One year had quickly turned into two, and Bea didn’t go back to work until Alana entered preschool at three, when she was certain that her daughter’s brain functioned properly and that her fine motor skills were age-level appropriate.

  By then Chico’s sports schedule had increased and Alana’s progress fared fine (though she needed speech therapy three days a week). Lonnie was busy climbing over people’s shoulders at work so Bea dropped her hours to part time. When she became pregnant for Mena and they made the hasty move to New Jersey, she let the job go altogether. She missed her patients, her title, her colleagues, and her sense of importance outside of being a mother and wife. But the kids, as they got older, needed her more—to run errands, chauffer and chaperone, and control the constant chaos. Lonnie wanted her home too. It lightened his load and as he often told her, “I don’t have to worry about the children because I know you’re with them. That makes it easier for me to provide.” His importance was tied to financing the family and Bea had become the unintentional housewife right before her eyes. The lifeline who kept everyone’s world spinning on its axis while she stumbled.