Forgive Me

by Stacy Campbell

  Chapter 24

  Victoria gave her list the once-over again. This Saturday was the first time she had ventured out with Nicolette beyond soccer, dance, and piano lessons. Lillith tagged along, wearing age-appropriate clothing and being calmer than usual. Victoria assumed it was because Bobby traveled to Dallas for some undisclosed business, and Lillith missed her young “Boo Thang,” as she called him. This was Victoria’s first attempt at making Thanksgiving dinner. With the holiday being one week away, she needed to stock up on staples to make her dinner special.

  “Mom, did you want me to find anything else?” Nicolette asked.

  “Honey, please get the maraschino cherries from aisle five.”

  “Grandma, do you need anything?” Nicolette asked.

  Lillith curled her lips at Nicolette. “Lillith, do you want anything?”

  “Yes, look in the condiment aisle for cooking sherry.”

  “Okay, Lillith.” They watched Nicolette walk away.

  “Lillith, why did you ask her to bring you cooking sherry?”

  “For my chicken.”

  “You can’t cook.”

  “Says whom?”

  “I said so. Why did you come with us anyway? We’re getting Thanksgiving items. This isn’t your kind of outing, Lillith.”

  “Can’t an old dog learn new tricks?”

  “First of all, you’re not a dog, and cooking was never your thing—even when I grew up with you.”

  “Who has time to slave over a hot oven? Am I wrong for not wanting to sweat out my hair, and chip my nails? And for what? The momentary kudo of ‘good meal, hun?’ Not Lillith, thank you very much!”

  “Lillith, cooking is a gift of hospitality. It’s a way of showing those you love you’re willing to take the time to do something special for them.”

  “With the pounds you gained, I see your hospitality from a mile away. I’ll admit, though, you’ve dropped a few. And you look good.”

  Victoria touched Lillith’s forehead. “Thanks.” I’ll write this on my calendar. A compliment from my mother.

  “What have you been doing? I mean, what have you been doing to lose weight?”

  “I’ve been walking at the park and working out at Planet Fitness with Yvette.”

  “Good! You look nice. I may have to join you and Yvette to get rid of this belly of mine.”

  “Are you okay? You’re being very generous with your words today.”

  “When am I not generous with words?”

  “Maybe I should say, you’re being kind today. You’re good at spewing out a generous helping of craziness.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Lillith! You can slice somebody up with your words. I saw you rip cashiers and clerks to shreds with your words the little time I spent with you growing up. Sad to say, I was just like you for a time.”

  Lillith gave her a sheepish grin. “Bobby said I have a salty mouth.”

  “So, this kindness is Bobby driven? I should have known a man had something to do with the change.”

  “It’s not just Bobby. It’s…it’s some other things, too.”

  “Such as?”

  “Nothing I want to talk about in the grocery store. I’ll tell you when we get outside.”

  Nicolette placed the cooking sherry, cherries, and coconut in the shopping cart. Victoria gave Lillith the keys and watched Nicolette grab her grandmother’s hand. They left the store, Lillith’s smile beaming, sincere. Something was amiss with Lillith, and she couldn’t wait to get to the car to solve the mystery.

  What a difference five years make, Victoria thought as she swiped her grocery savings card in the self-checkout lane. She eschewed coupon clipping and bargain hunting during her marriage to Winston. The sky was the limit, and she spent as much of his money as she could. Post-divorce, she wouldn’t be caught dead without a shopping list, coupons, and her earth-friendly grocery bags. No plastic for her. She rang up her items, swiped her coupons, bagged her groceries, and waited for the receipt to slide out of the receptacle. She grinned wide at the bottom of the receipt’s bold black letters: You saved $388.94 today. She’d paid sixty-five dollars for almost four hundred dollars of groceries. She folded the receipt and placed it in her wallet.

  Bags in her trunk and Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes crooning “I Miss You” from her SIRIUS XM Soul Town channel, she drove home with Emory on her mind. Sans the few text messages they’d shared over the last two months, neither had mustered the courage to get together face-to-face.

  “You mind if I turn your music down a minute?” Lillith asked.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Nicolette is mature for her age, so I hope you don’t mind if I discuss this matter in her presence.”

  “What does the discussion involve?”

  “Life,” Lillith answered.

  “Let’s stop at the rest area just ahead. I don’t want to run off the road.” Lillith scared Victoria with her solemn expression.

  Victoria found an empty space, parked, and turned to her mother.

  Lillith cut to the chase. “I had a mammogram two weeks ago,” she said.

  “Lillith.” She reached for her mother’s hand. “What were the results?”

  “I’m fine, honey. I did a self-check and thought I felt a lump, had the test, and it came back negative. I sweated bullets after the exam. I had a lot of time to be alone and think.”

  “Grandma…Lillith, are you going to be okay? I did a report on breast cancer for my science class and I read a lot about chemotherapy.”

  “I’ll be fine. I wanted to get some things off my chest with the two of you. I’m not big on emotions, but I have some making-up to do.”

  “Lillith, don’t get mushy on me,” said Victoria. She was used to the foul-mouth, insensitive Lillith. Sensitive Lillith rattled her.

  “I’m not getting mushy. I want you to know a few things.” Lillith took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for leaving you when you were young. I was hotheaded, irresponsible, and a lousy mother. Something happened to me after your father and I divorced. When I sat in that mammogram and they mashed my toddlers—”

  “Toddlers?”

  “I don’t have girls; I have toddlers. Anyway, I thought about my mother. She died of breast cancer long before they had all this advanced technology and alternative medicine. She suffered a long time before she died. Before she passed, I could literally smell the medication and cancer seeping from her pores. At the end, she talked about so many things she wished she’d done differently. I smelled her smell again during my mammogram, and all I could think about was how I treated you.”

  Victoria remained silent. She remembered her parents’ marriage ending in divorce after her father, Leland, slept with Lillith’s friend, Julie Adams. Lillith went into pit bull mode and charged them both in the bedroom after catching them together. Leland shattered her ego by blocking her fists from Julie’s face when a fight ensued. Victoria spied the scene in the hallway as Julie scurried past her, naked, bra and panties in hand. Lillith pulled Leland’s suitcases from the closet, tossed his clothes from hangers, and gave him ten minutes to leave before she became “homicidal.” Leland gathered his things, spotted Victoria in the hallway, and said to her, “Don’t let this grown folks’ business stop you from loving somebody. Me and your momma…” Leland ended the advice there and trudged down the stairs. Her allegiance tested, she wanted to chase her father and beg him to stay. Instead, she joined Lillith on the bedroom floor. She hugged her mother, willing her heaving shoulders to stop. Lillith’s guttural sobs made her hug her mother tighter. They sat on the floor that night until Lillith cried herself to sleep.

  “I let the situation get the best of me,” said Lillith, snapping Victoria back to the present. “Truth be told, I always tried to make Julie jealous because I knew her husband, Hank, wasn’t like Leland. Hank was a hard-working man, but they struggled a lot.”

  “Lillith, did they struggle like we struggle now? Things are different now that my dad is
dead,” said Nicolette.

  “Lillith, I understand the point you’re making, but I don’t think we need to have this discussion in front of a nine-year-old,” said Victoria.

  “When will she ever learn how to be a friend and treat people right? I should have explained to you what was going on during that time. We might have a better relationship now.”

  “I was ten.”

  “And you’re an adult now, with no husband, and tendencies like mine. Marguerite told me you bragged about your good fortune to Aruba all the time.”

  Victoria bit down on the inside of her mouth. She didn’t realize the conversation would get back to her again.

  “What does Aruba have to do with this?”

  “She’s getting the best of you. No one can mention her name without you getting an attitude or flying off the handle,” said Lillith.

  “She’s right, Mom,” Nicolette said, nodding.

  Nicolette eased back in her seat after Victoria mean-mugged her.

  “Take what I’m saying into consideration. I can’t undo anything I’ve done to you, but I can tell you bitterness isn’t cute. I ran off and left you with Marguerite after Clifford Rutland promised me the wind, the moon, the stars, and the mountains. I got out to Texas with him and I’ve lived hand-to-mouth ever since. If it hadn’t been for Marguerite giving me a place to stay, I’d still be out there searching. I’ve wasted so much time.”

  “Don’t you think Aruba should be apologizing to me?”

  “I thought you said she called and you wouldn’t answer!”

  I don’t want to hear what she has to say.”

  “Have it your way, Victoria. Let’s get on back to your house so we can put the groceries away and plan the menu.”

  “Lillith, will you show me how to make the Peach Schnapps cake like you promised?” Nicolette asked.

  “I sure will! It’s Bobby’s recipe and it’s real tasty,” Lillith said.

  Bobby again. She started her engine and headed home, processing all her mother had said. She enjoyed her bohemian years in L.A. with her aunt, but no one knew how much she longed for Lillith’s attention and her presence. Now, Lillith wanted her to let bygones be bygones. She wish she knew how. Even more, she wanted Lillith, Marguerite, or someone else to tell her how to mend her broken heart.

  Chapter 25

  Aunjanue sat in the Majestic Acres parking lot touching the new postcard she’d received. It featured van Gogh’s Café Terrace at Night, and the painting brought back memories of her siblings again. Tawatha placed a small replica of the painting in the kitchen at Aunjanue’s request when they lived in her step-grandfather’s house. Each night, Aunjanue prepared dinner for her siblings and entertained her sister, S’n’c’r’ty, with answers about the people in the painting. She pretended they were long lost relatives who would visit them during the summer. S’n’c’r’ty believed her as she washed lettuce, set the table, or filled glasses with ice. Aunjanue flipped the postcard over and read the words: I would like to have a meal with you at a café and discuss our situation. I love you. I long for us to have a good relationship. Love, T.

  The postcard, nestled between circulars and credit card solicitations, arrived in the mail yesterday. Trembling, Aunjanue climbed the stairs to show Lasheera the postcard, but as usual, she slept like an infant. Aunjanue slipped the postcard in her pocket and went to Mrs. Rosewood’s house. Mrs. Rosewood hadn’t seen any unusual activity, but promised Aunjanue she’d beef up her watch duties to protect her. Aunjanue stared at the postcard again.

  Who does this two days before Thanksgiving?

  She tucked the card in her purse, gathered the fruit basket and quilt she’d purchased for Ms. Mag, and headed inside Majestic. The sliding glass doors offered their familiar sights and sounds: lemon commercial cleaner on gleaming floors, the smell of beef pot roast and rice wafting from the cafeteria, and Mr. David Holmes gumming Juicy Fruit, sans his dentures. He waved to her and said, “How are you doing, Felicia?”

  “I’m fine, Mr. Holmes.”

  He wiped drool from his mouth and said, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Same to you, Mr. Holmes.”

  She looked in Ms. Mag’s spot in the corner, surprised she wasn’t there. She must be in her room.

  She plopped the fruit basket and quilt down at the nurses station and waited for the nurse to finish her call.

  “May I help you?” asked the nurse. She gave Aunjanue a warm smile as she waited for her response.

  “I’m here to see Ms. Mag. Ms. Maggie Ransom.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. Ms. Mag is under hospice care. You’re the young lady from the school, correct?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I thought somebody called the school and told you. She’s been gone two weeks now. She wandered off from the facility after dinner one night. Thankfully, she was out back playing kickball, but we made a mutual decision with the family to help find a more secure setting for her. We had to restrain her a few times, and she went downhill from there. The only thing consistent about her is requesting Felicia.”

  “May I have the address?”

  “Let me check her records. If I’m not mistaken, the family requested to let you know where she’d been moved. They want to meet you.”

  The nurse double-checked Maggie’s chart and read the notes left by the Director of Nursing. She scribbled the name and address of Serenity Hospice on a sheet of paper and handed it to her.

  “She’s not too far from here. Take I-465 to the Michigan Road Exit. Once you get off the exit, go down about four lights. Serenity is on the left. Can’t miss it.”

  “Thank you.”

  She took her items and headed to Serenity. First, she was dealing with her mother’s stalking, now Ms. Mag’s illness. Aunjanue had grown fond of Ms. Mag. She didn’t mind being called Felicia, and she didn’t mind the periods of sleep Ms. Mag indulged when she visited her. Dear God, don’t let this be the last time I see her.

  She dialed Roger’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. Relieved, she ended the call. His life had been fielding scholarship offers from colleges and universities around the country with his parents. Guaranteed a full ride because of his SATs and magic on the football field, he’d grown distant with all the attention he’d received his senior year. He didn’t pressure her for sex, but the thought of him being with someone else occupied her mind; her intuition hinted at another girl.

  She dialed Lake; he answered on the first ring. “Onnie, are you home yet?”

  “Not yet. I went to see Ms. Mag, and she’s been placed in hospice. I have a quilt and fruit for her, so when I drop it off, I’ll head home.”

  “Have you talked to Lasheera? I’ve been calling her, but she won’t answer.”

  “She was asleep when I left home. She woke up long enough to tell me I could borrow the car, then turned over again.” She paused. “Is she okay? She hasn’t been herself since Mom got out of jail.”

  “Onnie, I’m not sure,” he said. He changed the subject as not to alert her. He planned to get to the bottom of the situation. Soon. “Was Zion home when you left?”

  “He said he was bored and went down the street to play video games with Hakeem.”

  “Good. Do you mind watching him while we go out on our double-date with Caleb and Stephanie tonight?”

  “Sure. Roger is out of town anyway.”

  “Please call Stephanie and have her wake Lasheera up. I don’t want to be late tonight.”

  “I’ll call her now.”

  She ended their call. For the first time in years, she felt alone. Tarsha had been promoted to shift leader at Panera, so their hangout time had diminished. Roger traveled the country with his family every weekend visiting colleges and universities, and Lasheera floated around in a state of disorientation. There was no one with whom she could share the postcards or the ominous feeling she felt. She dialed the Wilson’s number. Stephanie always cheered her up with her zany sense of humor. The Wilsons’ mar
riage was only the third one she admired. If she ever got married, she’d love to have the type of interaction she witnessed between Caleb and Stephanie. He doted on her, complimented her in public and private, set goals, and acknowledged Stephanie as his strength. The Mosleys’ and Lake and Lasheera’s marriages were also worth emulating.

  She waited for Stephanie to answer their home phone. She was surprised to hear Caleb’s voice. “Mr. Wilson, is Ms. Stephanie home?”

  “Aunjanue, she’s not home right now. Is there a message I can give her?”

  “Yes, Uncle Lake asked her to call Auntie ’Sheer and wake her up. She’s been groggy and out of it. Ms. Stephanie can get her going.”

  “I’ll tell her to call. She’s out getting a mani and pedi.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Wilson.” She waited for him to hang up, but heard him lingering on the call. “Mr. Wilson, is there something else you have to say?”

  “Aunjanue, I didn’t want to ask this, but I’ve been worried about you since you got sick in class. Is everything okay?”

  No way would she share her feelings with anyone. People would accuse her of being crazy for trying to protect Tawatha, but she couldn’t explain her feelings regarding her mother. She trusted Mr. Wilson, but she didn’t want to tell him everything.

  “Mr. Wilson, it’s the situation with my mother.”

  “I understand. My heart goes out to you and the circumstances. If you need someone to talk to, I’m willing to listen.”

  “I appreciate it.” She waited a few seconds. “I’m headed to see Ms. Mag. She’s been moved to hospice, and I have a few Thanksgiving gifts for her.”

  “I knew she was sick, but I didn’t realize she had been placed in another facility.”

  “I just found out today. I hope I’m not too late. I’ve grown so fond of her.”

  “Really, Felicia?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  They laughed at her alias.

  “Henry, I bet she’d love to see you again.”