“We bought a dozen goodies from Cami Cakes and a cake from Publix. We’ll all share these treats,” said Yvette.
“I’m not hungry, but I’m glad you’re here. I just hung up with Lillith, and she’s going out again with Bobby tonight.”
“Marguerite poured coffee and joined them at the island. “I will not talk about my crazy sister today and her love interests. This visit is all about you, Victoria. How have you been?”
“I’m not sure. I think I did the right thing. I can’t express what I feel. Emory is the nicest man I’ve met in years, but for some reason, I can’t trust him or anyone.” She looked at Yvette. She dropped her head and took a chocolate coconut pecan cupcake from the box.
Yvette hoped Victoria would open up about her past hurts. She refused to share things with her, leaving Yvette thinking she may have offended Victoria in some way.
“Is it because of Aruba?” asked Marguerite.
Victoria’s side-eye look to Marguerite clued Yvette that a woman was involved in the standoffish treatment she’d received over the years. Yvette sat back and waited for the conversation to proceed.
“She’s a factor,” said Victoria.
“Who is Aruba?” asked Yvette.
“I’ll let her tell you,” said Marguerite. “I don’t think it’s my place to share what happened in her marriage.”
Victoria charged full speed ahead. “Yvette, I always told you my ex-husband died, but we broke up after a friend of mine…stole him.”
“Oh my. I’m so sorry to hear that,” said Yvette.
“Just to clear the air here, a man can’t be stolen. People go where they want to go, but Aruba had a plan to take him,” said Marguerite. “She skinned and grinned in my niece’s face until she had him. She moved on to California with him, but the joke was on her in the end when she discovered he had ALS.”
“That’s payback and then some,” said Yvette. She turned to Victoria. “Is that why you never share anything with me? There has always been an aloofness there, but I thought I’d done something personally to you.”
“I don’t trust people, especially other women. When I think about getting close to someone, I think of how she wore my clothes, drove my car, and spent time in my home. I’ll never put myself in that position again with someone.”
Her words settled around the island as they ate their treats and drank their coffee in silence. Yvette rubbed Victoria’s shoulder. Softened by the revelation, she realized crossing paths with Victoria wasn’t about friendship; it was an assignment.
Chapter 11
Tawatha pulled the floppy hat over her head, adjusted the oversized sunglasses on her face, and waved to Royce as she backed out of the main house garage. She’d marked this day on her calendar to follow up on job leads—or so she told Royce. Next to her were indeed appointment times for interviews at Marsh, Kroger, Burger King, and Federal Express. She’d spent several nights filling out online applications and printing out interview dates. The true nature of her outing was nestled beneath the printed sheets—addresses and directions to the homes for Roberta, Lasheera, and James—compliments of Switchboard, Spokeo, and Intelius. She’d grown tired of being ignored by her family and friends. Since they all purported to be Christians, she couldn’t understand why they didn’t want a decent relationship with her. She understood James’s stance, but Roberta and Lasheera were a different matter. She’d learned from Jamilah that her mother decided to let Aunjanue stay with Lasheera and her husband, Lake, so she’d have the benefits of a younger, more vibrant family. Roberta and JB were capable of raising Aunjanue. She wondered how often Aunjanue visited her grandmother and what type of things she did for fun. Did she have a boyfriend? Was she sexually active? She’d searched her name online and found that Aunjanue’s academic life hadn’t suffered. A senior at North Central High School, she participated in lots of activities that fostered her love of art. She’d also been accepted to numerous colleges and universities. She checked for Facebook and Twitter profiles but found nothing. If no one else bonded with her, she’d make sure to re-establish a relationship with Aunjanue.
She pulled the first map from her printed directions and looked at Lasheera’s name at the top of the paper. As she navigated the I-465 S traffic, her envy intensified when she looked at the address. “How does a former crackhead find a husband and move into such a nice neighborhood? She got Lake, but I couldn’t keep James,” Tawatha said. She didn’t care what anyone said, James still loved her. He just didn’t know it yet. He bided his time with the skinny woman on television until she got out of jail. Of this, Tawatha was sure. “If Lake can overlook ’Sheer’s past, James can overlook the house fire. After all, I did it for him. We can get our daughter back and raise her together.” Tawatha’s anger rose now; she turned up the oldies station and sang along with Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell as they belted out “Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing.” This tune accompanied many Saturday morning cleanings when she lived in California with her mother and twin sister, Teresa. Even now, Tawatha remembered sweeping floors and waxing windows with crumpled newspapers. “Yeah, I’ll show Jameshia how to clean and cook.” Her solo conversation continued until she turned into the entrance of Lasheera’s subdivision. For an extra fee, she received a birds-eye view of Lasheera’s house. She parked three houses down and waited. She knew nothing of Lasheera’s work schedule, but she figured Lasheera worked Monday through Friday. Maybe she’s out shopping this Saturday morning.
The oldies radio tunes mocked her as “Games People Play” by The Spinners began. She looked at the children playing in their yards, riding bicycles, and selling lemonade at colorful stands. Mothers and fathers clustered in each other’s yards were laughing and swapping stories. She hated their suburban souls with all her heart. “James and I can have this someday. I know we can.” A stray ball rolled in front of her car and Tawatha watched its owner retrieve it. The little boy waved to her and ran back to the game he played with four other boys. She thought of Sims and Grant then. She opened her purse to get her children’s photos when she saw Lasheera’s garage door open. Tawatha snatched her sunglasses off to get a closer look at Lasheera. She looked good from where Tawatha sat. Lasheera and Lake held hands as Lake walked her to a car parked in the driveway. Lasheera looked well. She had filled out in a womanly way; she didn’t have to same body Tawatha had grown accustomed to seeing when she did drugs. Her hair had grown past her shoulders; she wore stylish jeans and a soft, green cashmere sweater with a decorative scarf tied in a triple loop. The September weather didn’t warrant a heavy coat, so the sweater and scarf did the trick for the day. Lake leaned into her face, caressed her light-brown skin, and kissed her lips. He whispered something in her ear, causing them both to laugh and fall into each other’s arms. She playfully pushed him away. They advanced a few steps, and Lake opened Lasheera’s door. Once Lasheera was seated, they kissed again and Lake waved goodbye as Lasheera backed out the driveway. Tawatha scooted down in the seat and waited until Lasheera passed. She set her iPhone alarm for five minutes and sat back up to watch the neighborhood happenings. Lake reappeared from the garage with a weed eater. He trimmed shrubs and bushes. “He is fine!” Tawatha said.
Lake wore a fitted muscle shirt, jeans, and boots as he manicured the lawn. Tawatha remembered a cute, chunky guy with a boyish face and an easygoing personality. The man doing yard work made Tawatha swoon. Everything about him, from his sexy glide to teak wood skin glistening in the September sun, made her angrier that Lasheera had landed such a great catch. Tawatha remembered how much Aunjanue admired him as her art teacher. Jamilah mentioned he’d gone back to school to obtain his Ph.D. Tawatha surmised he was making more money and probably heading the household like a man should. Tawatha pulled a pack of Marlboro Lights from her purse, lit one up, and cracked her window. She continued to enjoy the view of Lake as his arms spanned the reach of the higher bushes. Zion joined him, making Tawatha sit higher.
Zion, Lasheera’s son whom she create
d with a married man while doing drugs, followed Lake around the yard picking up discarded leaves. They set trash bags in the garage and began horseplay on the lawn. Zion’s growth astounded her. He was almost ten and tall like his biological father, Marvin. His jeans and T-shirt were ironed so hard she saw the crease in the pants three houses down. His cotton candy Afro sat high and proud. He’d been a crack baby who had spent months in the neonatal intensive care unit before Lasheera was able to bring him home. Tawatha teared up at the memory of holding his frail hands through the glass incubator at St. Vincent’s Hospital. “Life is moving on for everyone except me.”
She took another drag of her cigarette and continued to watch Lake and Zion in the yard. She had become so engrossed with their family time she jumped at the tapping of a black baseball bat on her window. She smashed the Marlboro in the ashtray. Re-adjusting her shades, she let the window down to address the woman wielding the baseball bat.
“May I help you, ma’am?” Tawatha asked.
The woman extended her free hand. “Belinda Rosewood. Your name?”
“T… Tina Lewis.”
“What are you doing sitting out here in the neighborhood? Looking for someone in particular, Ms. Lewis?”
“I’m out searching for houses. My realtor told me it’s best to check out a neighborhood on a Saturday. I get to see how vibrant the neighborhood is,” said Tawatha. She gripped her trembling hands together.
Belinda made Tawatha’s flesh crawl. She may have been decked out in pink, but there was nothing soft about her. Tawatha could tell she was a one-woman neighborhood watch, and she didn’t like being the target of her vigilance. Belinda’s small hands grazed the bat before she tucked it underneath her left arm. She pointed a pink, manicured finger in Tawatha’s face.
“Are you looking to occupy the house or burn it down?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know exactly who you are, Tawatha Gipson,” said Belinda. She snatched the shades and floppy hat from Tawatha and tossed them on the ground. She cracked the bat in her hands and raised her voice.
“I will let Lasheera and Lake know you’ve been spying on them. If I see you in this vicinity again, Slugger and I make you regret you ever got out of jail!” Belinda pointed the bat at Tawatha’s face. “You’re not welcome here. Do I make myself clear?” Belinda picked up the hat and sunglasses and tossed them in Tawatha’s backseat.
“Yes…ma’am,” said Tawatha.
Tawatha’s trembling hands shook more as she wrestled with the keys. She started the car and sped from the subdivision, checking her rearview mirror as Belinda stood, caressing the bat and flashing a sinister smile.
Chapter 12
Lasheera turned the blue envelope over again in the Walgreens parking lot. The huge envelope contained bills, clipped coupons, and a summons to appear in court from Zion’s father, Marvin. She removed the summons from the blue envelope, wondering how Marvin had found her. He’d relinquished all parental rights four years ago when his wife said, “Not another dime is leaking out my house for your bastard son.” Like magic, Marvin signed the necessary paperwork, granting Lasheera sole custody of Zion. Lake’s love and understanding helped smooth the transition from newlyweds to new parents. Shortly after Zion graced their presence with his boyish laughter and wide-eyed enthusiasm, Roberta approached them about taking temporary custody of Aunjanue. Roberta’s arthritis and Johnny’s migraines made them poor candidates for parenting a fourteen-year-old girl. Roberta loved her granddaughter, but her old bones were no match for the evolution of modern teens. She didn’t know an iPad from an iGate, and she wasn’t interested in learning the difference. Seeing Onnie on the weekends and at special school events satisfied her.
Lasheera knew Marvin’s motive for visitation had everything to do with his wife’s passing. Lake had slid the Star News obituaries to her over coffee and cereal four months ago. They were shocked that Marvin’s wife had succumbed to a heart attack; forty-five seemed too young to die. The obituary referenced her cause of death and the American Heart Association’s “Go Red For Women” website for donations in her memory. Lasheera, stunned to learn Zion was listed as their son in the paper, offered her assistance for the funeral. Marvin rebuffed her, telling her their affair and Zion’s birth played a part in his wife’s death. So, she was shocked to receive the letter seeking visitation. What is he up to?
Lasheera shook off the thoughts of Marvin and entered the pharmacy. She forgot to check up on Onnie and stepped to the end of the cosmetics aisle to call her. Onnie answered on the first ring.
“Did you make it to the location with the other students?” Lasheera asked.
“Yes, we’re here. I think today will be a good day since Mrs. Maggie is quiet. Tarsha and I are going skating tonight, so I’ll be home later.”
“We have church in the morning, so don’t stay out too late,” said Lasheera.
“I’ll be home by twelve. Roger is out of town with his parents, so no date tonight. Only skating.”
“Is he coming back in time for dinner with us tomorrow night?”
“I’m not sure. He texted me earlier, but I didn’t respond yet. I’m getting the drawings together with the other students right now. I’ll call him when I leave.”
“Be careful and mind your manners. Oh, and tell Caleb we have a double date soon with him and Stephanie. Lake will call him about the exact night.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll tell him.”
“Don’t call me ma’am. I’m not that old. Auntie Sheer is fine.”
“I will, Auntie Sheer.”
Lasheera ended the call feeling more at ease. Since Tawatha’s release, she called Onnie frequently to make sure she was safe. Caleb Wilson, her new art teacher and protégé of Lake’s, looked out for Onnie’s academic and social well-being. He didn’t show favoritism, and he kept her in line when she seemed disinterested in class. She’d been an active participant in class since Tawatha’s release. He promised he’d make sure to keep her on task in class, especially since he had caught her daydreaming several times the past few days.
Lasheera tucked her cell phone in her purse and combed the aisles for clipped coupon items. The coupons were her grocery list since she never veered from planned purchases. Lake was a stickler for saving money. He’d influenced her in more ways than he knew, and she wanted him to know just how much she appreciated him. She planned on going to the pharmacy on the way out for their meds.
“Excuse me, Ms. Lady,” someone called from behind.
“Yes?” Lasheera spun around, hesitant at first but not wanting to appear snobby. She stood her ground but was alarmed by the woman’s disheveled appearance.
“My car broke down a few miles up the road, and I need some gas money. Can you help a sista out?”
If she has a car, I have a jet, Lasheera thought as she looked her up and down. The stout woman’s eyes bugged as she held her hands out for the money. She shifted back and forth as if she had to use the bathroom, but stopped abruptly when another patron walked down the aisle. The holey, New York Knicks T-shirt she donned hadn’t been washed in weeks; neither had she. Her cargo pants, equally dingy and sliced with a knife or scissors, offered a peek-a-boo effect to legs filled with scrapes and cuts. She scratched underneath the baseball cap she wore, stopping only to look at the grime beneath her nails. When she opened her mouth to speak again, Lasheera winced at the jagged remains that were once teeth.
“You looking at me like you don’t believe me. Tell you what, you can take me up the road and I’ll show you my car. Matter of fact, Raymond is waiting in the car for me,” she said. She eased closer to Lasheera. “If you could help me out with some gas and something to eat, I’ll be so appreciative.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any money to help you.” Lasheera scrounged around in her purse, remembering the Popeye’s gift card Lake received from one of his former student’s parents. Filled with angst, she gave the card to the woman.
“This ca
rd contains fifty dollars. This should get you something to eat. I hope that someone else can help you with some gas. Have a good day,” said Lasheera.
Lasheera turned too slowly before the woman swept her up in a hug. Nauseated now, Lasheera held her breath as the woman’s rank body odor filled her nostrils.
“Thank you. You just made my week. I’ll go out here and find somebody else to help us, but at least I’ll have something to eat,” said the woman. Satisfied, she clutched the gift card and disappeared through the magnetic entryway.
Lasheera sat in a seat near the pharmacy now. She had to process the encounter. Homeless or not, the woman struck a chord with her. Did I ever do that to anyone? Lasheera shook off the guilt of her crack days and steadied herself at the pharmacy counter. Her favorite pharmacy technician waved to her.
“Picking up today, Mrs. Carvin?” the young lady asked.
“Yes, there should be one prescription for me and two items for my husband, Lake.”
The technician punched away at the computer and took Lasheera’s payment for the items. Too shaken up by the chance meeting with the homeless woman, Lasheera declined the post-purchase consultation.
The woman’s smell saturated her scarf and sweater. Memories of Tawatha and the smell of the woman ignited a feeling that was becoming familiar. She wanted a hit of crack so badly she could taste it. She’d staved off the feelings lately because Lake, Aunjanue, and Zion needed her. They would never forgive her if she traveled down that road again. She made her way to the car in a haze, drove off, and stopped at the KFC drive-through for a Coke. She needed something to wash down her Extra Strength Tylenol. She pulled into an empty space in the lot and removed her pharmacy bag. She opened the bag, removed the bottle of pills, and noticed an error. The bag read Lajuana Carvel, not Lasheera Carvin. She eyed the bottle, fancying it a hush-hush miracle: Lajuana Carvel took Ambien.
Forgive Me Page 6