by D. L. Sparks
She was wearing a pair of Capri pants and a T-shirt with a picture of Tweety Bird on the front and a caption that read: Chick With Brains.
We were the textbook version of a before-and-after picture.
“You need to go take a shower. You look a mess; and when you look a mess, you make me look bad,” India remarked.
She placed a couple bags of groceries on the kitchen table alongside a bag of takeout. The kitchen filled with the smell of Chinese food; my stomach rumbled to life.
She pulled plates down from the cabinets without saying anything.
I sat pushing apps around on my phone, pretending she wasn’t there. You would’ve thought that we would’ve put our differences aside, but it seemed like this was an even bigger wedge between us.
I heard her keys hit the table. “Did Mama call?”
“No.”
I stood up and started pulling groceries out of the bags. I had to do something or I was gonna go crazy. I was overwhelmed with more emotions than any one person should have to deal with at one time or in one lifetime for that matter.
“Have you slept?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Come on, eat something, Idalis. Then you need to lay down.”
“I’m not hungry.”
I heard plates hitting the wooden table behind me. “You need to eat something.”
She scooped Cameron up and set him up at the table with a sandwich, fruit, and a juice box. I sat in a daze as she scooped shrimp fried rice onto my plate.
“Lincoln called. Trip’s partner was shot last night.”
“What?” The spoon she was using hit the table with a loud clang.
I put a forkful of rice into my mouth. It nauseated me, but I chewed and swallowed it, anyway.
She picked at the edges of her egg roll. Not saying anything.
I pushed my plate away from me and headed to the front porch. I stood there for a moment and let the wind swirl around my body. The sky was on fire, with various shades of red and orange. The weight of the day was slowly forcing the sun down in the western sky. It was much cooler than it had been earlier.
My mind was with my grandmother. I imagined her lying in her hospital bed, fighting for her life. When my father died, she had made it a point to help my mother with raising us and keeping us on the right track. Mama never did remarry, so it was never easy for her raising twin girls and trying to keep food on the table.
My grandmother filled in the gaps whenever she could, whether it was letting us spend the weekend so our mom could get some rest, or making sure we ate dinner after school, before we headed home. I spent many hot summer nights on this porch, getting my hair braided and complaining to her about everything from boys to the fact that I believed India had to be adopted, regardless of the fact that we were twins.
“Grammie, something’s wrong with her,” I used to argue.
As I got older, our conversations went from schoolgirl complaints to a woman in search of the answers to life’s lessons. She would always give me the same advice: “Figure out whatever the hardest thing is to do, and you do it, because that’s usually the right choice.”
I returned a call from Dionne and updated her on what was going on. She told me that everything was going okay with the club and that everyone was praying for my grandmother. After I thank her, I hung up and tried Trip again.
The phone rang twice before his voice came across the line.
“What’s up, baby girl?”
“I heard about Phil. I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“I know, but I know how close you two are.”
We talked about how terrible it was that his partner and my grandmother were both hospitalized, battling for their lives.
He asked, “You need me to stop by?”
I chewed my bottom lip. My mind said no, but my heart was screaming yes. “If it’s not out of your way,” I finally said.
“Gimme about an hour, and I’ll be by there.”
He hung up, and just like that, he was on his way.
By the time Trip made it to my mother’s house, India was sprawled out on the living-room floor, playing with Cameron, and I was on the couch, waiting for the phone to ring. Part of me didn’t want the call to come from the hospital, but a bigger part of me needed to know what was going on with my grandmother. I thought about calling, but I didn’t want to worry my mother. My grandmother needed her attention right now more than I did. I was sure she would call as soon as she heard something.
When I heard the knock on the door, a sense of relief washed over me when I opened it and saw Trip standing there. I could tell he was tired. He was in his DEA T-shirt and black jeans. He wrapped his arms around me and I breathed him.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded into his chest. “Are you? How’s Phil?”
He stepped into the foyer. “He’s still unconscious.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hey, Trip,” India’s voice came from behind him.
A smile spread across his face as he hugged her. “Hey, girl.”
“Sorry about your partner.”
“Thanks. I’m sorry about your grandmother.”
We all stood in the foyer for a moment as a hole in time began to fill with a common bond of family and love.
We headed down the hall toward the kitchen.
I pulled a plate out of the cabinet and grabbed the leftover Chinese from the fridge. “Hungry?”
He laughed a little. “I guess I am, since you’re already fixing my plate.”
“I’m going into the living-room,” India announced, heading out of the kitchen.
I felt Trip’s eyes on me as I spooned the cooling food onto his plate.
“You look tired, Idalis.”
“I’m fine.” I forced a smile. The microwave beeped and I retrieved his plate, placing it in front of him. “Now eat your food.”
He laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I need to get out. I’m about to go sit with Dionne at 404 for a little while.” India was standing in the doorway with her Coach bag tucked under her shoulder. “I’ll be back a little later. Cameron is playing in the living-room.”
With that, she was gone.
“You two still on the outs?”
I rubbed my forehead and shrugged. “I guess we just don’t have much to talk about these days.”
“Now is not the time for y’all to be beefing.”
“Yea, tell me about it.”
I went into the living-room to check on Cameron. He was munching on some Goldfish my sister had given him and running a truck back and forth on the coffee table. He stopped me before I could make it back to the kitchen.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, baby.”
“What are you doing?”
“Talking to my friend.”
“Can I talk?”
I looked toward the doorway that led to the kitchen. Trip was standing in the doorway. “Not right now, sweetie. Finish eating first.”
“Okay.” He smiled big, and I started back to the kitchen. “Mommy?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s Nana?”
I stopped in my tracks and felt the lump expand in my throat. I opened my mouth to answer him, but nothing would come out. My legs got weak and I felt like they were going to give out on me.
“Your nana will be back in a little while.” Trip appeared in the hallway.
“Oh,” Cameron said. That explanation satisfied his question. He studied Trip for a second, then said, “Hi!”
“Hey, little man.” Trip smiled.
Cameron held up his truck to show him. “I have a truck.”
“I see,” Trip said, moving toward the makeshift racetrack. “That’s a nice truck l’il man.”
Cameron smiled and continued to play. I leaned against the wall and tried to regain my composure. I watched them for a second, seeing how my baby was so easy about sharing his toys with this man, and how Trip
quickly became wrapped around his finger as well.
The house phone rang and I jumped out of my skin. I looked at the caller ID display; it was Piedmont Hospital.
My mouth went dry. It was my mother.
“Hey, sweetie.”
“How’s Grammie?”
“She’s comfortable. The doctors are running another bone scan on her.”
“Why?” I asked.
“They think the cancer may have spread.” Her voice cracked just a bit. Tears once again flowed from my already swollen eyes. I did my best to hide the fact that I was crying. I didn’t need my mother worrying about me too.
“Mama, do you need me to come to the hospital?”
“No. Cameron doesn’t need to be around all this death. You stay put. I will be okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. They are going to keep her, baby.”
“No, Mama.”
“Baby, this is the best place for her right now. Where is your sister?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “She left a little while ago.”
“Okay, let her know I called.”
“Call if you need anything.”
“I will.”
I let out a sigh, rubbed the knot in my shoulder, and tried to figure out what to do. I felt so helpless—or worse, I felt useless. My grandmother was fighting for her life, a life that had meaning. I had nothing to show for mine right now, except a bunch of deception and conflict.
When our call ended, something inside me snapped. I made my way down the hall to the kitchen and sank onto one of the kitchen chairs and cried. My mind was all over the place. I needed to call India and some other family members. I reached for a tissue, and Trip was there, wrapping me in his arms and trying to calm me down. I cried into his shoulder.
“Baby, let it out,” he encouraged. “It’s okay.”
“Why her? Why my grandmother?” I cried. I felt so selfish. I would never wish anyone’s grandmother sick or dead; I just wanted mine a little longer. I needed her.
The sound of Cameron’s playing stopped my pity party. I lifted my head from Trip’s shoulder and looked toward the hall. He cupped my chin and looked into my eyes.
“I should be comforting you. Your partner is in the hospital.”
He smiled. “I’m okay. Go lie down. I can keep an eye on him. You need some rest.”
I shook my head. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not?”
I raised my eyebrow. “Have you ever watched kids before?”
He gave me a look like he was offended, then he smiled. “I’m a DEA agent. I catch hardcore criminals for a living. I think I can handle a toddler.”
That made me smile. “You don’t know Cameron.”
He hugged me close again. “We’ll be fine.”
I was wary of leaving him alone with Cameron, but I was mentally exhausted. I was no good to my son right now, anyway, so I agreed and made my way to my grandmother’s room. The embroidered blanket was still disheveled from them coming to get her. My heart ached when I noticed her slippers still resting beside her bed, waiting for her to slide her feet into them. I bent down, picked them up, and placed them on the chair. I would take them to the hospital tomorrow.
I curled up in her bed and hugged her pillow. I didn’t want to cry, but I did. I wanted her back, wanted her here. My issues were insignificant right now. Nothing else mattered right now. I called work and told them what was going on, and that I had no idea when I would be back. Family really did come first, I realized. Luckily, the club owners were understanding and told me to take my time.
I wasn’t sure how to fix this, but I knew I had to do something.
And God had even met me halfway.
The hardest thing to do ... was right downstairs.
I don’t know how long I’d been asleep. I thought I was dreaming when I heard my sister’s voice. She sounded stressed as she shook my sleeping body.
“Idalis!” Her voice was a harsh whisper. “Get up!”
I looked around the room and blinked my reality back into focus. My grandmother’s world came rushing back to me, a cruel reminder of what I was doing there.
“What is your problem?” I struggled to sit up. “And why are you whispering?”
She had a panicked look on her face, which caused my heart to jump.
“Uh, we have a”—she stopped and took a deep breath—“no, you have a problem.”
“What are you—”
That’s when I heard the voices. Their tone was calm and monotonic, but I could sense a growing intensity. Then, as if I had been zapped with a stun gun, I jumped up and ran to the window. The all black Dodge Charger police cruiser parked out front behind the black Tahoe confirmed my worst nightmare.
Linc was here.
“How long has he been here?”
She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “I just got here.”
My first thought was Cameron; my second thought involved an ambulance and body bags.
I heard Lincoln ask, “How long has she been sleep?”
Trip answered, “About an hour.”
Then Lincoln spoke again, “Yo, why are you even here, pot’na?”
“I came to check on my friend and her grandmother, just like this case, doing your job for you.”
“Well, I’m here now, so you can go.”
I looked at India. “Where’s Cameron?”
“Playing downstairs.”
I grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. “You left him!” I fussed.
She just sat there, wide-eyed, like she was totally clueless on what to do.
I took a deep breath, prayed to God, then headed downstairs. As I walked toward the living-room, I noticed Cameron playing in the middle of the floor. Lincoln was standing by the doorway and Trip was across the room, both facing each other, with my son in the middle. I brushed past Lincoln and picked up Cameron, joining him in the middle of all the madness. He smiled and hugged my neck.
I returned his smile. “It’s way past your bedtime, little man.”
Both Lincoln and Trip made a move toward me, but I quickly gave both of them a look that said: Don’t even try it. I took Cameron and sat on the couch with him. My mind was racing. I was more nervous than a hooker in church during altar call, but I didn’t want them to know. Somehow I had to regain control of what was going on, and now was going to be the time.
I spoke in a soft, controlled tone, which forced them to listen. “This is how this is going to go”—I looked at both of them, then continued—“and neither of you is going to raise your voice in front of Cameron.”
“Idalis—” Lincoln tried to interject, but I just held up my hand and silenced him.
My sister appeared in the doorway. “Leave her alone, Lincoln,” she snapped. “I called him and asked him to come.”
I was shaking so bad that I thought I was going to drop my son to the floor. Lincoln looked at both of us as anger rode his body, hardening him. I scanned him, trying to ignore the gun on his hip.
I knew how people could get crazy in situations like this, and he had definitely proven he wasn’t the same man I’d fallen in love with. His eyes went from Trip to me, and back again. They did that dance a couple more times before he locked eyes with me.
“I’m going back to work.” He turned and walked toward the front door. “His ass better not be here when I get back.”
I handed Cameron to my sister. “Can you take him upstairs?”
She glared at Lincoln before heading up the steps.
I followed him to the front door. He opened the door slightly before turning to face me. “Fuck is he doing here, Idalis?” he asked.
I let out a sigh and ran my fingers through the many tangles in my hair. He had no idea how close to the edge I actually was.
“Lincoln, you know he’s my best friend,” I said.
He slammed the door shut, making me jump and causing the small mirror on the wall next to it to shake. Before I
knew it, he was in my face. “You think I give a damn about some bullshit high school friendship?”
“Lincoln, keep your voice down.” My voice was weak and I felt like my throat was closing up.
“I’m only gon’ ask you one more time, Idalis. Why is he here?”
I co-signed on India’s lie. “My sister told you. She called him. My mother and grandmother practically raised him. He’s just concerned, that’s all.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
I closed my eyes and rubbed the bridge of my nose.
He let out a sigh, then backed off a little. “You need to take your ass home.”
“Lincoln, I can’t just—”
Fire rose in his eyes and I saw his jaw tighten.
He snatched the door open and it slammed against the wall behind it, causing me to step back a little. Before it could bounce back, Trip was in the foyer and Lincoln was standing in the doorway.
Lincoln directed his fire at him. “What?” His anger caused his voice to boom in the small foyer. He frowned at Trip. “Oh, now you wanna play protector? Shouldn’t you be at the hospital on deathwatch pot’na?”
I lowered my head. My heart sank when he said that.
When I looked up again the look in Trip’s eyes scared me. It was a look I’d never seen before.
“Stop it”—I stepped in the middle—“Cameron is upstairs.”
At that moment my sister came running down the steps, ready to jump in and fight, if necessary.
India spoke up. “Since my sister won’t say it, I will. I want both of you to leave. We are dealing with too much, and this is uncalled for. And I don’t want it in my mama’s house,” she argued. “So, please, just leave my sister alone.”
Trip walked over to the steps and placed a kiss on India’s cheek before giving me a weak hug. “Call me if you need anything.”
He ignored Linc and headed out to his truck. A few moments later the engine turned over and he sped off.
Lincoln stared at me for a brief second before following the same path Trip had just taken.
I stood in the doorway and watched him slide behind the wheel of his police cruiser and take off. I wanted to shout things at him, throw things at his car, but my arms were heavy. I took a deep breath and closed the door.