by Aisha Graham
“I heard him crying. I was cooking dinner in that very kitchen”, Ms. Lawson pointed to the archway across the hall. “All I could hear was a faint cry.” Ms. Lawson began crying herself, “Something in my heart knew it was him, but I thought Michelle left him. I searched for her for days. They hadn’t found her body for a couple of weeks, you know, only because she started smelling funny.”
“I’m so sorry, ma’am”, Evita said as she felt sympathy for the same woman her mother blamed for tearing their family apart.
“You don’t have to be sorry for anything, sweetie. You did not do this. Your mother did not do this. Your father did.” Evita’s ears opened wide when Ms. Lawson mentioned her mother.
“Did you ever know, or hear anything about my mother?”
“When Michelle’s body was found, I told the police that I knew your father did it. There was no evidence, no witnesses, and no real ties between the two, so they ignored me. But your mother had committed suicide a few days before the cops estimated Michelle was killed. A friend of mine, up in Virginia, watched the story on the news for weeks as we looked for Michelle. ‘Reverend’s Wife Takes Own Life’”, Ms. Lawson explained as she made a gesture with her hands to demonstrate a big headline. “Your father’s picture was there, clear as day. The same reverend who sat in our faces and—”, Ms. Lawson couldn’t even finish talking. Evita rubbed her back.
Carl Jr. could hear his grandmother’s cries and peaked through the bedroom door to check on them. Ms. Lawson jumped at the sound of the squeaking hinges and quickly asked that he closed the door.
“He doesn’t know about any of that. Please never tell him, it will break his heart”. Ms. Lawson asked that Evita stay for dinner. She took her time cooking beans, collard greens, turkey legs, and dinner rolls as Evita sat and watched game shows, and Carl completed his homework. Evita agreed to stay, as she hadn’t eaten all day.
There was an awkward silence, but not one of tension, more so of pity. Evita wanted to share stories of her childhood with her younger brother, but there were none. She didn’t want to rub in the fact that her mother was a part of her life, and of course, had no fond memories of their murderous father. Either way, it’d be inappropriate.
On the other hand, Carl Jr. was curious. He knew Evita had information to things his grandmother would never reveal.
Ms. Lawson grinned and bared her southern hospitality, making glances at Evita to remind her to keep her mouth shut. They just shared small talk and political news until their plates were cleaned. Ms. Lawson offered the couch to Evita, which was much cleaner than Georgia’s was, so she accepted.
Ms. Lawson brought out sheets and a pillow from the linen closet and returned to her room to continue crying. Carl Jr. told Evita that if she needed anything to let him know, but the tone exposed his ulterior motives to pry deeper into the lives of his parents. He retreated to his room as well. Evita secretly hoped he wouldn’t come back into the living room. She knew she’d have to reveal any information she had, and that Ms. Lawson wouldn’t take kindly to the after effects.
Evita’s cell phone rang, it was Donald. Evita had almost forgotten she even had a job.
“Yo, where you been? I finished that article, but you know they’re bringing me—”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Tell them I’ll be back in next week”, Evita whispered.
“Is everything okay? You haven’t been right since I gave you the therapist’s number”, Donald nosily inquired.
“I’m fine. I had to visit some family. It’s a long story”, Evita ended the call, leaving Donald even more confused. She had never taken off much time before all of this situation, so she didn’t worry too much about her job security. And at this point, what did that even mean to Evita? There were so many bigger issues at hand, than a sports article. The phone rang again. This time, it was Diana.
“Evita? Is everything okay?” Evita rolled her eyes. She was so close to the finish line, she didn’t have time for all of these arbitrary worriers.
“I’m fine, I found my brother.”
“That’s great, sweetie!” Diana exclaimed.
“It isn’t. He’s a sweet kid, his grandmother is polite, I just—” Ms. Lawson’s bedroom door opened. She shuffled to the bathroom. Evita whispered to Diana that she’d call her back, but she had no plans of doing that tonight. Evita knew Ms. Lawson wanted to keep a close eye on her, which was understandable. Evita was the offspring of her daughter’s murderer after all. Ms. Lawson slowly shuffled back into her bedroom.
Evita struggled to fall asleep. Her eyes were burning from the drive earlier and all the emotionally draining conversations she’d been having. She lie there in the pitch black. No light shone through the curtains and there were no noises other than crickets. She tried some of the breathing and meditation tricks Diana showed her weeks ago.
Eventually, Evita’s eyes were heavy. In between each lethargic blink, a dark image would appear closer and closer to her face. She assumed it was Carl Jr. and opened her eyes to greet him. Instead, it was Clarice with tears covering her face with foundation and mascara streaming downward to her neck. Her yellow dress was covered in dirt and debris and her arms and face were a deep red, covered in blue and black bruises.
“Clarice?” Evita squinted to see her clearer. Clarice grabbed Evita’s arms and painfully squeezed.
“Help me, help me, help me”, she whispered as her voice trembled with each syllable.
“What’s wrong?” The two of them repeated their question and statement back and forth to one another. Evita calmly awoke. It was now morning and Carl Jr. sat beside Evita on the couch. He wore a white tee and blue basketball shorts and was impatiently awaiting her rise.
“My grandma went to the store. We have to talk”.
DAY 30
“I KNOW my father”, Carl Jr. said.
“Well duh”, Evita thought to herself, as she stared blankly awaiting him to complete his statement.
“No, I mean I’ve met him before”, Evita became alert, and sat upright on the couch. “You want something to drink?” Carl Jr. asked.
“What kind of transition is that?” Evita wanted to make light of the situation before it headed into an inevitably dark direction. It worked, and the two of them giggled in unison.
“I saw him on TV last year”, Carl Jr. began to explain. Evita immediately knew he was referring to the telethon their father’s church hosted for hurricane victims a few months prior. It was a huge deal to all the megachurches and of course, Reverend Thomas couldn’t miss that opportunity.
“We had the same name obviously. I knew it was him, so I lied to my grandma and told her I had a field trip that I’d forgot about. You know, I made a fake permission slip and stuff. The money she gave me, I used to take the bus up to Virginia.” Carl told the story so nonchalantly, like it was no big deal he stole money from his grandmother to visit his abusive father in another state, unattended.
“I just sat in the top section.” The megachurch had a balcony of pews above the general seating like a concert hall.
Carl Jr. continued his story. He didn’t exactly “meet” his father, and he didn’t want to. Carl Jr. just wanted to see how a man could preach about saving the lives of others, while simultaneously disregarding the life of his own child. He made sure he was far enough away from the pulpit to be unrecognizable and spent his entire day at the telethon. Carl Jr. left without speaking a word to anyone, including his father. He caught the bus back to North Carolina in time to beat his grandmother home.
“What happened to my mom, Evita? My grandma won’t tell me, but I know you will”, Carl Jr. placed his hand on Evita’s knee. Evita initially thought “I’m not telling you either”, but she knew what she had to do. They were in the same boat; Evita still had no solid proof, or a clear story as to what happened to her own mother.
Evita hesitantly relayed the story that Ms. Lawson told the night before. Carl hung his head in shame. He was ra
ised not to cry like most men, so he, unfortunately couldn’t reveal his sorrow in that moment. Evita felt it regardless.
“He will not get away with what he did to our mothers, Carl”, Evita explained, rubbing her brother’s limber back. Evita told Carl Jr. that she needed to leave before his grandmother returned, since she went against her wishes and told him about Michelle’s demise anyway. Carl Jr. understood and helped Evita carry her duffle bag to her car.
The two of them hugged each other securely, and Evita promised to keep in touch now that they were acquainted. She told Carl Jr. to call her if he ever became too saddened by the new she’d told him moments ago. Evita reminded him that he’s not his father, and that he is better than his father could ever be. Carl Jr. gave her one last hug, and assured Evita he’d keep in touch with her as well. The two of them exchanged cell phone numbers, and Evita drove off, watching her brother’s image fade in the distance of her rearview mirror.
Evita began driving without direction and completely unsure of her destination. She decided to stop for breakfast and gas before she figured anything else out. She found a small Mom and Pop deli that served breakfast sandwiches. There was only one other person in the shop, aside from the short, old lady who was cooking the food. He sat quietly at a lone table, eating his egg on rye.
An old television glared in the corner of the wall, playing the national news station. The old lady proceeded to fix a sausage, egg, and cheese on a croissant for Evita, as she stood near the counter, blankly staring at the news. Just then, a photo of Clarice appeared. Evita’s knees almost buckled.
“Wife of the well-known Reverend Carl Thomas of the First Baptist Church of Southern Virginia has been missing for what has now been 72 hours. The Reverend reported his wife of thirteen years, Clarice Thomas, missing early Wednesday morning. Authorities say they have no leads. If anyone knows of this woman’s whereabouts please contact the local police department with any information you may have.” Evita stood in a daze. She remembered Clarice’s image asking her for help the night before. Air completely left Evita’s chest.
“Ma’am! Ma’am!” The little old lady shouted toward Evita, while smiling with kindness, holding the sandwich outward. Evita reached over the counter, grabbed her sandwich, and left a ten-dollar bill on the counter, instructing the old woman to keep the change. She rushed out to her car, threw the sandwich down in the passenger seat, and fumbled her keys into the ignition. As the engine began to rumble, Evita turned around to make sure no cars were in the way as she began backing out of her parking space. The Reverend sat directly behind her in the backseat. Evita screamed at the top of her lungs, turned around to open the car door, and noticed he was no longer in the rearview mirror. She looked back again, and he was gone.
Evita was breathing heavily, patting her body to make sure she was awake. The sandwich was still in the passenger seat, and the keys still in the ignition. She stepped outside the car and began pacing back and forth beside the driver’s door. Evita screamed and kicked her car, and the old woman inside the deli peeped through the window with a confused scowl. Catching the old lady’s expression, Evita gathered herself and got back into the car. She knew she scared the old woman and decided to drive across the street to the gas station to eat her sandwich.
As she sat in the car eating, her phone rang, and it was Diana calling once again.
“Have you seen the news?” Diana asked. This was it. Evita knew this was the chance she had been waiting on. Evita had to find Clarice before anything happened to her. This would be the only evidence she needed to end her father’s lifelong wrath.
“Yes, I just saw it. I’m headed there now. I had a dream about her actually.”
“What happened?” Diana inquired.
“She asked me to help her”, Evita said realizing her dream was prophetic, just as Diana suggested they could be weeks ago.
“Stay safe and give me a call. If you need me to, I can send some police to the house—”
“No”, Evita insisted, “I can handle it. I’ll be okay”. Diana decided to trust Evita’s decision, and asked that she keep her updated in case of any emergencies.
Evita spent the entire day in the car, again, without any pit stops, but constantly looking over her shoulder for any more hallucinations. When she finally reached within a couple miles of her father’s house, it was night fall. Evita decided to refill on gas. Her eyes were still burning and were now, a deep red around her pupils. She didn’t care. Evita couldn’t rest tonight, she had to find Clarice. However, she realized that if Clarice really was held captive the same way Vivian had been, nighttime would most likely be the worst time to arrive at the house. Evita knew The Reverend was definitely there keeping an eye on the situation.
Evita sat in the car brainstorming as gas pumped into her car, when someone knocked on her window. Evita nearly had a heart attack and placed the palm of her right hand over her chest. It wasn’t a dream this time. It was the real-life Georgia, pounding on her window. Evita unlocked the door and signaled for her to climb into the passenger seat.
“What are you doing here so late?” Evita asked her with genuine concern. She figured Georgia had already known about Clarice.
“Finish pumping your gas and I’ll tell you on the way”, Georgia rushed Evita as she looked over her shoulders. Evita stopped the gas pump prematurely and quickly left the station. They drove for a few minutes in silence, as Georgia tried to find words to explain what she needed to say. Tension and fear filled the atmosphere.
“Your father already killed Clarice”, she blurted. Evita’s stomach churned and she pulled over on the side of the road to vomit. She was too late. Clarice asked for her helped and she didn’t make it in time, just like with her mother. Georgia climbed out of the car and walked over to comfort Evita as cars flew past them. Georgia rubbed Evita’s back and reminded her that it wasn’t her fault.
“It is my fault! She asked me! She asked me to help her!” Evita screamed as she wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her sweater.
“Who, honey?” Georgia stepped away in confusion.
“Clarice!” Evita realized immediately that Georgia wouldn’t understand.
“Just… never mind, get back in the car.” The two of them got in and locked the doors. Evita turned the car off and took a few deep breaths.
“How do you know she’s dead?” Evita asked. Georgia hesitated. “How do you know?” Evita shouted.
“Because… I was at the gas station because your father called me, and I didn’t want him to find me.”
“Called you for what, Georgia? Tell me the fucking truth!” Evita screamed again with veins popping from her neck. Georgia hesitated to respond
“He wanted me to help him get rid of her body”, Georgia could barely speak she was so choked up. Without another word, Evita immediately started turned the car back on and began driving to the house.
“Where are you going?” Georgia panicked. She could tell Evita was headed to The Reverend’s home. “Don’t go there!” Georgia continued begging. Evita ignored Georgia’s warning and kept driving. She knew Clarice was still in that house just like her mother was thirteen years prior.
“He is going to kill us Evita!” Georgia cried.
“No, he won’t”, Evita plainly stated without even looking in Georgia’s direction. Evita sped the entire way down the road. As she began approaching the end of her father’s street, Evita turned off her headlights. She crept slowly toward the house to see whether or not The Reverend’s car was still there. Georgia’s fright was heightened with every inch the car moved, but Evita was confident that her car was unrecognizable since she’d only visited one time in almost a decade. As she got closer to the isolated mini-mansion, Evita noticed The Reverend’s car was missing. She slowly reversed to the end of the small street and put the car in park.
“Stay here, I’ll be back”, Evita demanded of Georgia.
“But—”
“I said I’ll be
back”, Evita said as she looked Georgia in the eyes, assuring her she would be okay.
All that surrounded the car was dead silence and pitch blackness, accompanied by tall oaks and willow trees. Georgia was becoming a bit chilly in the passenger seat, but Evita had taken the keys. She knew Georgia would escape out of fear. Georgia sat with her arms wrapped around herself for warmth, as her large body shivered uncontrollably.
Evita quickly trekked toward the house. Once reaching the driveway, Evita began tip-toeing. She circled the darkened house, which had no lights shining through the front. Upon reaching the backyard, Evita notice brightness beaming from the basement window. She checked her surroundings before proceeding closer toward the house. There remained nothing but stillness.
Meanwhile, piercing lights approached Evita’s car from behind. Georgia immediately lifted the lever beside the seat, leaning it all the way back in an attempt to hide her large frame beneath the view of the window. Georgia had no cell phone to warn Evita. Every negative thought ran through Georgia’s mind as she assumed this was The Reverend returning home. After the vehicle drove past, Georgia could see the license plate. She was correct in her assumptions and suddenly started bawling.
Evita hunched over and crept toward the basement window. She examined the inside of the dwelling, scanning her eyes from side to side. Once her vision reached the far-left corner, Evita saw her. There she was; Clarice was bound and gagged, sitting cross-legged on the cement floor. Clarice saw Evita and began squirming. Her arms were tied behind her back, but Evita could tell that if she could, she’d reach out toward her for help.
The car lights shined on the house, travelling far enough to hit Evita’s body. She signaled to Clarice that she’d be back with a vigorous head nod and the wild waving of her arms, and slowly proceeded in the opposite direction as the approaching vehicle. It worked; Evita went unseen. The Reverend went through the front door and Evita sprinted around the side of the house, down the driveway, onto the road, and to her car in one swift, nonstop motion. She jolted the door open on the driver’s side and pushed Georgia repeatedly until she was able to roll her body over onto the passenger side.