And Then There Was Me

by Sadeqa Johnson

  Lonnie and Awilda were sitting where she had left them, drinks refilled. The music had gone from soft to old-school rap and the two were singing along with the track.

  “Peter Piper picked peppers, but Run rapped rhymes…”

  Awilda threw her hands in the air while Lonnie picked up a spoon and used it as a microphone. As she watched them from the kitchen door, she realized that she had not been sure of a lot in her life. Often she made decisions that were wrong but this wasn’t one of them. The gun was hidden behind her hip.

  “Where have you been?” Lonnie flashed his magic. “I paid the caterers. They wrapped the leftovers and put them in the fridge.”

  Bea raised the gun from her hip and pointed it at him.

  “Bea, what the…”

  “Sit, dear.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. It had a glacial layer of ice and Bea felt as cool as the crisper section of the refrigerator. She used the remote control to turn down the music with her free hand and then swung the gun at Awilda.

  “Girl, stop playing before someone gets hurt. What’s wrong with you?” Awilda’s voice was steady but her eyes were big. She was afraid. Awilda was never afraid. That’s how Bea knew that she had trapped the right pussycat against the tree.

  “Wilde, I’m going to ask you a question. Please remember that I know you very well. So answer truthfully. It’s only one question. Ready?”

  Awilda’s chest heaved up and down. She managed a nod.

  “I’m going to need you to use your mouth, dear. You know how to use that big mouth really well. Are you ready?”

  “Bea, what is this about?” She sat on her hands.

  “No, no, hands where I can see them.”

  Awilda put her hands on the table. Her nails were painted Pepto pink.

  “Are you fucking my husband?”

  Lonnie spoke up. “Honey, that’s ridiculous.”

  She swung the gun. “I’m not talking to you, Lonnie, I’m talking to Awilda. Are you?”

  “Sweetie, you know I’ve never been attracted to Awilda.”

  Awilda whipped her hair. “Why you got to say it like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’m some ugly duckling or something.”

  “Let me deal with Bea. Please just stay out of this.”

  “You want to get like that now?”

  He stuck out his chin. “Bea is my wife.”

  “Oh, now you want to pull the ‘I’m married’ shit? Really, dude? You wasn’t saying that last…”

  “Shut up!”

  “Unbelievable.” Awilda cast a wounded look at him. “You been trying to seduce me since high school ’cause I was the one girl that never got swept up in your shit, the one who wouldn’t drop her panties.”

  “She’s lying, Bea.” He threw a nasty look at Awilda. “I’ve never seduced you.”

  “Coming to the gym when you knew I would be there. Taking me to dinner, saying shit. And now it’s ‘Bea, you know I’ve never been attracted to Awilda,’” she mimicked his voice with attitude.

  “Bea, don’t believe a word she’s saying.” Lonnie moved to stand. “Baby…”

  At that moment, the room shook beneath the three of them. The sound echoed off of every surface and piece of furniture in the house. Time didn’t move as their eardrums smashed into the middle of their ears and then recovered.

  The kickback made Bea stumble through the space. When she opened her eyes, Lonnie was falling to the ground.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Undercover

  “What the fuck!” Lonnie grabbed his thigh and slumped down against the legs of the dining room table.

  “Bea, you shot him,” said Awilda.

  Bea looked at the gun. She didn’t even remember pulling the trigger. How in the world did she shoot him? Her finger must have slipped. The gun was only supposed to scare a confession out of them. Show them who was boss. Take back her power. Not hurt anyone. The gun dangled in her hand. How easy it would be to put it to her temple and just blow herself away. The world would be a better place without her. Lonnie and Awilda could ride off into the sunset together and live happily ever after. Her children could … her children. She was such a terrible mother. They would probably be better off without her too. Lonnie would probably move Connie and little Alonzo in if she died. Make room for his new family. That’s probably what he wanted. She was light-skinned, thin, with free-flowing hair. The type of woman that other men admired at dinner parties. Bea moved the gun toward her stomach.

  Lonnie pressed both of his hands into the wound, trying to stop the blood with his fingers.

  “Call an ambulance,” he croaked. The blood seeped through his crème pants and onto the Persian garden area rug that he’d insisted on buying because it made a statement. Now it was wet and ruined. Bea was deep in thought, wondering if a bullet through her stomach would do the trick. She would really hate to blow her own brains out. That sounded shockingly painful. No one would want to clean up blasted brain pieces from the wall and floor and furniture. On one of those shoot ’em up movies that Lonnie liked to watch, Bea had seen what brains looked like splattered and it was enough to make anyone hurl from the sight of it. She had such vivid images playing in her head that she had not noticed that Awilda was standing right in front of her.

  “Give me the gun, Bea.”

  “No.”

  “Honey, before anyone else gets hurt, please let me have the gun.” She spoke in that soothing voice that made people do what she wanted.

  “Come on, sweetie. Let me help.”

  The tone worked. Bea moved the gun from her stomach and let Awilda take it.

  As soon as it was in her hands, Awilda spat. “What is wrong with you? Did you go off your Paxil?”

  Bea shrank like a thirsty violet.

  “I need you to get a towel and then stop his leg from bleeding.” Awilda dusted Bea’s prints from the gun with a dinner napkin.

  “Here.” She handed the gun to Lonnie.

  “Why are you giving this to me? I don’t want it.” He tried to give it back.

  “Can’t you lock it or something?”

  Lonnie put the safety in place and handed it back to Awilda. She took it with the napkin and then placed it inside the buffet.

  Bea heard her voice but was unable to send the signal from her brain to move her feet. Lonnie moaned. Awilda kneeled by his side. Then she looked up at Bea and yelled, “Come put that damn nursing degree to use before your husband dies on your dining room floor.”

  “I’m dying?” asked Lonnie. “Oh, God!”

  “No, fool. You’ll live. Bea, go.”

  Bea roused herself enough to go into the bathroom to get her first-aid kit from the closet. It wasn’t the Johnson & Johnson kit that came from CVS. It was the one she had used in nursing school and it was stocked with all of the very best equipment. With her hands around the handle, her brain received the picture. A nurse was needed to help out at the scene. She switched gears, surveyed the wound, and went into action.

  * * *

  Joney walked through the unlocked front door. “Bea, I didn’t get my pie…” She took in the scene. “What in the world happened here? I thought I heard a gun go off but I convinced myself that it was just a firecracker.”

  Blood was everywhere. Bea was wrapping a strip of cloth around Lonnie’s thigh. Derrick walked in and almost bumped into Joney.

  “Hey, I could use…” He stopped in his tracks.

  Bea looked at Awilda, who got to her feet and rubbed her hands on her jeans, streaking them with blood.

  “It’s nothing, guys. Bea went to show Lonnie the gun. They’ve had it for a while but forgot where it was.” Awilda swallowed. “As she handed it to him it went off and he accidentally shot himself in the thigh. It all happened so fast. I’m glad you guys are here.”

  “We should get him to the hospital,” Derrick injected.

  “Do you want me to call an ambulance or should we drive him? Overlook isn’t far,” asked Joney,
running her fingers through her hair.

  Bea pushed away from Lonnie and leaned her back against the wall. The gun. Why had she given it to Awilda? She should have fired it into her stomach when she’d had the chance. The pain in her heart wouldn’t go away and her ears were ringing with so much noise it was giving her a headache. Lonnie and Awilda. Awilda and Lonnie. Images of them touching and kissing kept running through her head. She needed some air but her body was so heavy she couldn’t move.

  Then the doorbell rang. Everyone in the room jumped. Joney went to answer it. Bea could hear her talking at the door but couldn’t make out what she was saying, then in walked two police officers.

  “What’s going on here? A neighbor reported a disturbance.”

  “Guys, this is Officer Burkes and Officer Cage. Officer Cage went to high school with my son. I know him as Mikey. Glad you two came.”

  “Sir, are you okay?” Officer Burkes said, moving toward Lonnie, putting his hand on his wrist and taking his pulse.

  “Yeah.”

  “What happened here?”

  Bea kept her eyes on the ground. She could tell the officers that she’d tried to kill her husband and best friend so that they would arrest her. But jail was so stinky; it didn’t appeal to her like her bed. She wished she could just get up and go upstairs and get in her bed.

  “It was an accident,” said Awilda.

  “He shot himself in the thigh, showing off his new gun. Such a stupid thing to do but as you know it happens every day. I just read about that football player losing a finger playing with fireworks on the Fourth of July. Mikey, call for an ambulance, would you honey?” coaxed Joney.

  “Who’s this guy?” Officer Burke put his hand on his weapon as he turned his attention to Derrick, who at that moment walked in from the kitchen carrying Bea’s good towels.

  “He’s my husband,” said Awilda.

  “Has he been here all night?”

  Derrick looked both terrified and annoyed.

  “He’s fine, Officer Burke. These people are neighbors. Would you please just figure out how to get this man to a doctor before he bleeds to death?”

  “The ambulance is two minutes away,” said Officer Cage.

  “Thanks, Mikey.”

  * * *

  Awilda and Derrick followed Lonnie’s ambulance to the hospital. Joney promised to look after Bea.

  “Come with me, dear, and let me fix you a cup of tea.”

  Bea got up off the floor. What she really wanted was a bowl of her mother’s soup. The air was chilly as she walked across the grass. As soon as she entered through Joney’s back door into her kitchen, it became easier to breathe. The smell of Joney’s house was reminiscent of the rented cottage in Wildwood, where she and her mom spent the second week of August on vacation each year. It was a combination of citrus and cilantro and in both cases might have been a good mix of potpourri and lunch.

  The kitchen was painted a cheeky mint green, with simple and timeless furniture and corky wall decals that read: THE UNIVERSE IS ALWAYS WORKING ON BEHALF OF MY HIGHEST AND BEST GOOD.

  Bea took a seat at the kitchenette.

  “Just push the mail aside,” Joney told her as she put on the kettle. It was shaped like a black-and-white kitten, the tail was the handle.

  “Where’s Bill?”

  “Gone. He doesn’t live too far.”

  “Sorry to intrude on your night.”

  “Don’t apologize for anything, dear.”

  Bea was so exhausted her bones hurt. “Do you have any pain medicine?”

  Joney reached into her top cabinet and put a bottle on the table. She poured two cups of hot water over tea bags.

  “How do you take yours?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  When Joney put the hot mug in front of her, it read: ALL IS WELL AND I AM SAFE.

  “Do you have affirmations everywhere?”

  “Yes, plastered in every room. If they made it in wallpaper I’d have that too.”

  “Why so many?”

  “I find that I need constant reminders to stay the course.” Joney blew on her cup, then proceeded slowly. “I was just like you, Bea. In my marriage to Sonny. I put up with more than I care to recall. I was broken, damaged, abused. Lucky for me he left before I had a chance to hurt him. I did think about burning the bed before with him in it.”

  “What stopped you?”

  “I love this house. It’s where my children were born. I still have Penelope’s growth chart written on that wall.” She pointed to a spot near the broom closet. “And in the living room, there is still a spot where Ethan decided to draw a Mother’s Day card on the floor.”

  “I shot him.” Bea felt herself tear up. “It was an accident. I was just trying to scare him into telling me the truth.”

  “Which is?”

  “That … he and Awilda have been … messing around. I could just tell. I saw an energy between them. What? Do they think I’m stupid? Why would they do something like that to me? I don’t deserve it. I’m good to everyone. I’ll help anyone out and this is what I get back?”

  “Some people can only give you what they know, Bea. It’s unfortunate.”

  “He has a son.” She had lost control of her secrets. Those four words loosened the weight tied to Bea’s chest. “Lonnie. He has a son in Miami. Same age as Alana.”

  “You’ve been keeping this?”

  Bea nodded. “No one knows. He’s been so careless with my feelings. But I’m the fool. I’ve stayed through it all.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know how to leave.”

  Joney looked deeply into her eyes and then patted her hand. “I know you feel like your identity is tied to him.”

  “I’ve been with him my whole adult life.”

  “You know what helped me through my separation and then divorce?”

  Bea sipped her tea, starting to feel the effects of the painkiller easing the tension in her breastbone.

  “I had to admit to the part that I played.”

  “I didn’t play a part. I’m the victim.”

  “There are no victims. Life is a dance, Bea. Lonnie can’t dance if you aren’t moving your hips to his beat.”

  Bea’s face reddened. “Are you suggesting that I brought this on myself?”

  Joney rested her pointer finger on her forehead and took three deep breaths before answering. “I’m saying, dear heart, that it takes two. That’s what years of therapy, yoga, energy work, acupuncture, and holistic healing have taught me. You name it, I’ve tried it, and I’ve learned that on this beautiful journey called life, we must realize the part that we play so that we can stop playing it. We have to change the energy and stop beating the drum of what we don’t want.”

  Bea looked down at her fingers.

  “We have to forgive and love and forgive and love. It’s not your job to hate him for the rest of your life. That’s toxic for you.”

  Bea went from pissed off, to soothed, to deeply listening. Joney had a woo-woo quality that Bea had always been attracted to. Watching her move in her body always put Bea at ease. It made something inside of her unravel.

  “I’m bulimic,” seemed to be stuck to her ribs like a membrane, but when she got the words out she had to put her hands on the table in front of her to steady herself. When she looked into Joney’s face, it made her drowsy.

  “Feels good to let this stuff out, doesn’t it?”

  Bea dropped her head down to her chest.

  “Why don’t you sleep in my guest room tonight? I’m sure you’d benefit from a change of scenery.”

  “Thank you.”

  As Bea walked through the hall and up the steps, her feet felt like lead pipes. Joney’s house held a calm that was so tranquil, she was sure she was asleep before her head even hit the memory-foam pillow. She slept for twelve hours.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Spreading like Wildfire

  Bea left Dr. Spellman’s office with a referral to see a psychi
atrist.

  “I’m worried about you, Bea,” she told her before she left. “You’re still very hormonal from having the baby. You have to stay on your pills until I tell you to stop.”

  Bea had agreed to stay on the pills but she had no desire to engage in talk therapy. She remembered going to the school therapist after her father died and feeling like she didn’t want to talk about it. After various breakdowns in her relationship with Lonnie, she went to a therapist in Adams Morgan and it worked for a while but then Bea lost interest. Now she didn’t feel like talking. What she wanted was to keep Lonnie out of her bed, Awilda out of her house, and to go through the pile of papers and forms that had accumulated since the start of school. But Bea had never been lucky.

  When she pulled into her driveway, Awilda was sitting on her front steps, dressed in a red one-piece pants jumper. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. If Bea was still her best friend she would have kissed and hugged her and commented on how cute she looked. Cooed over where she’d purchased the jumper and then invited her in for whatever leftovers were in the refrigerator. But they weren’t friends.

  “Why’re you here?” She slammed her car door, fresh anger spilling down her spine like water.

  “You’re not going to speak to me ever again?”

  “There’s nothing to say.”

  “Come on, Bea,” Awilda whined. “I’m sorry, okay? It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Sorry? Sorry doesn’t cut it when you’ve been fucking my husband.” Bea looked around to see if any of her neighbors were out. Last thing she wanted was to be the brown family on the block causing a scene. The police had already showed up at her house and Bea was sure that news had spread like whooping cough.

  “Can I come in?”

  “No.”

  Awilda followed Bea up the steps. When they got to the side door, Bea tried to close the door behind her but Awilda pushed her way into the kitchen. “Bease, I shouldn’t have done it. I take full responsibility for being weak.”