by Aletto, Anna
“Where do I go?”
“Doesn’t matter. Just go far, far away from here. Keep going and going until you’re long gone and you maybe find a place you can settle a while and be happy.”
“When do I come back?”
“Not for a long time. You have to stay away. But someday, when it feels right, come back.”
I nodded. I felt like crying but no tears would come.
Terrell hugged me. “C’mon, boy, you’ll be fine. I love you. You can handle yourself out there. And one day I’ll see you again.”
I hugged him back but had no words. I got in my car and left Memphis.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Angela goes to bed early.
My mother sits on the couch and watches the ten o’clock news.
I walk into the living room. “Hey, can we talk?” I ask.
“About what?”
“Can we turn off the TV?”
She doesn’t say anything.
I turn it off and sit on the edge of the coffee table. “I have to leave tomorrow morning.”
“Okay,” she says. “It’s been nice seeing you. You can come back any time.”
“Before I go, I want to talk about Ariel.”
“What about her?”
“I don’t know … I literally think about her every day. And it still hurts. My skin aches and I feel sick. I feel like putting my head through a wall sometimes. It’s overwhelming. I really can’t stand it. I don’t know what to do.”
Perfectly composed, my mother listens to everything I say. “Well, you can’t live for your sister,” she responds. “She’s gone and you have to think about the future. You have to live for yourself.”
“I do. I have fun and live my life and I feel good at times. But, even then, I still carry her in the back of my mind. I can’t shake those feelings. Aren’t you sad about her?”
“Sure, it made me sad. She was my daughter.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t need you. I’ve dealt with hard situations my entire life without any help. I’ve gotten through them all and I’ll keep getting through any more that come my way.”
“I’m still sorry that I just disappeared. Terrell said he would tell you I was okay, but –”
“I knew, if you left, there was a reason. I know you’re a smart boy and always have been. Terrell told me you were alright. So whatever the reason – it didn’t matter – I knew you were doing whatever you had to. I made it through just fine.”
“You always taught us to fend for ourselves. That came in handy when I had to go. But, at that time when I left, I felt totally raw. My nerves were numb. I couldn’t even think straight. You must’ve felt something like that when you heard.”
“Ariel was my daughter and I loved her,” she says plainly. “Losing her was awful.”
I nod, hoping she continues and says more, but she doesn’t say another word. “I’m not sure why I’m talking to you about this,” I say. “I just have this bottled up inside me and there’s never anyone to talk to. I just want to get these feelings out, because they’re just tearing up my insides and eating me away.”
“Like I said, you can’t live for your sister. She’s gone and you’re alive. You have the right to be happy.”
“Yeah, I know, but it doesn’t seem that simple to me. After she died, I went a long time without having much desire to live.”
“Losing you too wouldn’t do anybody any good.”
“I know, Mom. I’m just … I’m trying to tell you how I feel and how much it hurts me. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I loved Ariel. I don’t think I ever will. And she’s dead.”
My mother shakes her head. “I really don’t see any point in talking about it.”
I stare at her, my eyes water a bit. “Why are you being like this?” I ask. “Are you upset with me?”
“No,” she says.
“Do you blame me for Ariel dying?” I ask.
“Of course not. She was a grown girl. She put herself in a bad situation and she didn’t survive it. You’ve always been a good son and I don’t blame you for anything.”
We sit together in silence a moment and I say, “I don’t know how to be close to you, Mom.”
Surprised she says, “I thought we were close.”
I chuckle and a couple tears roll down my cheeks. The glands behind my eyes ache. “Um … I mean, I guess we are in that I love you. And I would do anything for you. But I don’t … I don’t know how to talk to you.”
“We’re talking right now, aren’t we?”
I stare at the floor. “I don’t know. I don’t know what else I can say.”
“Well, I think we’ve already said everything we possibly could.”
“I guess so.” I sit, staring the floor some more. Suddenly, without wanting to, I start crying hard.
“What’s wrong with you?” my mother asks.
I cover my face with my hand. “Nothing,” I barely manage to say through tears and mucus.
“Christ,” she says, startled at how out of control I appear. “Why are you getting so upset?”
“I just … I … I don’t … I don’t ever cry … ever. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“You may think life is hard, but it can be harder,” she says. “Your sister passing away is no reason for you to be walking around miserable every day.”
My face still covered, I say, “I know. I’m not miserable. I just … I think I wanted something else by talking to you.”
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know,” I say in between sobs. “I think … I think I need to be alone.”
“Why don’t you get some sleep?” she recommends. “Whatever is wrong with you, you’ll probably feel better tomorrow morning.”
I walk to the guest room where Angela sleeps. She is curled up on the left side of the bed under the covers. I curl up on the right side, on top of the covers, and fall asleep surprisingly fast.
Early in the morning, Angela and I wake up and pack our belongings into my Toyota. In the kitchen she eats a bowl of cereal and asks, “Are you going to eat anything?”
“No, I’m too anxious to.”
“Do you think he’s going to try anything?”
“I have no idea. But hey, listen to me. Seriously. If cops are there, don’t do anything.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t try to get away, don’t make a move other than what they tell you to do. Just let them arrest you and don’t say a word. I’m serious.”
“Okay, alright. I get it.”
We drive to Pinnacle Christian and arrive at seven-thirty, an hour and a half early. I drive around the parking lot and the surrounding neighborhood, scouting to see if anything looks unusual. The sky is overcast and a cold breeze blows the limbs of the barren trees. The lot and neighborhood appear peaceful, all perfectly normal, so I park in the lot and we sit and wait.
Reverend Donald Boyd shows up early himself, driving into the lot in his black Hummer at eight-thirty. He parks in front of my Toyota, removes the keys from the ignition and steps out. Angela and I meet him between the two vehicles. Reverend Boyd holds a duffel bag stuffed with cash.
“How do I know you won’t come back and ask for more?” he asks, holding the bag firmly at his chest.
I shrug. “How does your congregation know you tell them the truth?”
He stares at me.
“I guess you’ve got to have faith.”
“Did you end your relationship Britney?” he asks.
“Yeah. I gave her a reason. She thinks I was a great boyfriend. And she thinks you’re a great father. Everything and everyone’s going to be fine as long as you don’t do something stupid and fuck it up.”
He blinks a few times, then says, “You have to take this and I don’t want to ever see or hear from you again.” He extends his right hand for me to shake it.
I hastily shake his hand with my right and grab the duffel
bag from him with my left.
He jumps back in his Hummer and drives out of the parking lot and out of sight.
Angela and I get back in the Toyota and drive out of the lot and to the parking lot of a nearby Wal-Mart. We quickly count the money from the bag, which rightfully totals sixty-thousand.
I drive onto the interstate and head east.
“What did you tell Britney to break up with her?” Angela asks me.
I tell her the fabricated story about our supposed father being sick.
“That’s so great.” Angela laughs. “So you, the guy she swore she wouldn’t sleep with, then gave into because he was special, ends up dumping her. That should sour her on men for the next decade or so.”
“I don’t think it’s like that at all,” I say. “She doesn’t feel like she got dumped. I had to leave because of a noble purpose. I was the greatest boyfriend ever and only because of tragic circumstances did our relationship get cut short of a storybook ending. I’m sure she’ll go through some sadness over it, but it’ll also mean a lot to her.”
“But it’s all bullshit!” Angela laughs.
“I’m not sure if it matters. She believes it’s true. Who knows what’s going to happen to her. For all we know, the next several guys she dates may all treat her like shit. But she can think back to her first boyfriend who was a really great guy who really loved her, who had to leave her because he was such a great guy. That’ll be real to her. Even if we know it’s bullshit, maybe that can mean something to her, bring her some happiness, or make her a little more optimistic about life.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
MEMPHIS, Tn. — Once we cross over the Memphis Bridge, I park downtown. We visit Mud Island before wandering aimlessly around Beale Street, stopping in some shops and bars. Daylight dwindles and soon it’s very cold and very dark and we check into an old, decrepit -looking hotel without an elevator.
“Not to sound like a slut,” Angela says, “but I’m about to go crazy. I haven’t gotten laid in so long. I mean, in Fayetteville, you were sleeping with Britney. What did I have?”
“Whatever pain you’re going through is self-inflicted,” I tell her. “I wanted to sleep with you way back in New Orleans. You didn’t seem too into it, remember?”
Angela sits in a chair beside a window overlooking downtown and doesn’t say anything.
“We’ll go out tonight,” I say, placing my suitcase on the bed and opening it. “Maybe you can find some guy you like… I’m kind of curious to find out what type of guy you’re into.”
“Or, instead of going out, we could just stay in.”
“Why? You just said you wanted to get laid.” I laugh and pick some clothes from my suitcase and set up an ironing board. “I think you really are losing your mind. You don’t know what you want.”
Down the street is a blues bar. A few guys approach Angela but she acts disinterested and brushes them off. A pretty, semi-drunk brunette with mid-length hair and glitter on her face starts talking to me. “What’s your name?” she asks.
“Peter,” I say.
“Do you go to college here?”
“No, I’m just visiting. I’m at the hotel just down the street.”
“Me too! I’m visiting some friends. I go to UT -Knoxville. Where do you go?”
“I don’t. I’m graduated. I’m a lawyer.”
“Really? I thought maybe you were younger.”
“Nope.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’m Peter. Peter the lawyer.”
“I’m from California originally,” she says. “I like the south okay. Except in the winter. It gets too cold. I like the outdoors. I like to hike and swim and watch the sun set in the east.”
“You mean the west?”
“No, I like it when it sets in the east.”
“Oh,” I say. “Are you an astronomy major?”
“No. I know I’m a Capricorn though.”
“Cool.”
“Hey, I’m going to get a drink,” she says. “Do you want one?”
“Yeah, thanks. Whatever you’re having.”
“Okay.” She walks away.
Angela approaches me. “Why are you talking to her?”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s an idiot.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Angela sighs.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just want to go back to the hotel.” She reaches and takes my hand. “C’mon, let’s go. Please.”
“Look, you can go back if you want to. You don’t need me.” I pull my hand from her and reach into my pocket. “Here. Take the room key.”
“Why can’t you—”
“Hey, she’s coming back. Go ahead. I’ll be back later.”
“Whatever. I really hope you have a lot of fun.” Angela stomps away.
The brunette hands me a beer. She only takes a few sips of hers. “I’m kind of through partying tonight. Do you want to walk me back to my room?”
In our hotel she leads me to her room, No. 414. We sit on the bed and kiss. I glance at her purse on the floor. She kisses my neck.
“Hold on a second.” She stands, picks up the purse, and steps into the bathroom.
I sit on the bed. She comes out of the bathroom without her purse. We continue kissing and start to remove each other’s clothes.
Two and a half hours later I lie on the bed. The brunette has fallen asleep. I stand, get dressed, and walk into the bathroom. Her purse is on the sink. I pick it up and extract the cash. I exit the room and return to my and Angela’s room two floors below. Angela reclines on the bed watching television. “Where’ve you been?”
“I brought that girl back to her room.”
“What’d you do with her?”
“What do you think I did with her?” I sit on the end of the bed.
Angela sits up beside me. “What? Tell me.”
“Tell you want? What details are you interested in?”
“I just want to hear you say it. I wanted you to come back to the room with me.”
“What’s up with you? Why are you acting so weird?”
Angela rubs her hand down my neck. She holds her hand up and there is glitter on her palm.
“So what?”
“She’s in this hotel?”
“We’ll have to be careful. She’s a couple floors up. 414, I think.”
“Do you have your lighter?”
“Yeah.” I take my lighter out of my pocket and hand it to her. “I don’t think you’re supposed to smoke in here.”
Angela walks into the bathroom.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I take off my shoes. “What are you doing?”
Angela takes a can of hairspray and leaves the hotel room.
Looking at my shoes, I don’t see her exit but hear the door’s thud upon closing. “Angela?” I jump up, open the door, and look out. She’s already down the hall, about to go up the staircase. In my socks, I jog after her. I bound up to the fourth floor and see her down the hallway.
Angela marches to the door of 414. She begins spraying it with hairspray.
I catch up to her. “What is this? What the hell are you doing?”
Angela reaches into her pocket and takes out my lighter. She sparks a flame.
I see it and smack the lighter out of her hand. She tries to pick it up. From behind, I grab her by the arms. Angela struggles to free herself, but I wrap my arms around her upper body and pick her up. She lifts her feet into the air and kicks off the wall, propelling us both backward. I hit my back on the opposing wall and release my grip on her.
Angela swipes the lighter from the ground, sparks it, and sets the door of 414 ablaze. I snatch the can of hairspray from the floor, grab Angela by the wrist, and we rush back down the staircase to our room.
I let Angela in first and then close the door.
She starts toward the bed.
“Hey!” I grab her by the upper arm, then the other, and sl
am her against the wall. She tries to free herself, but I pin both her arms against the wall over her head. “The fuck’s wrong with you?!”
We look at each other, both breathing heavily. Angela thrusts her head forward and kisses me hard. We pull back, look at each other for a moment, and then kiss again.
“Grab your stuff,” I tell her. “We need to leave right now.”
“Fucking c’mon.” I find a gas station payphone and dial Terrell. It’s nearing three o’clock in the morning on a rundown Memphis street corner. Angela sits in the Toyota passenger seat bundled up in a sweater and coat, tired, waiting. I’m freezing, holding the phone and listening to it ring and ring with no answer. “C’mon, Terrell. Answer the fucking phone.” With the third ring and nothing, I hang up and start back toward the car. As I reach for the door handle, the payphone rings. I jog back over and pick up. “Hello?”
“Hey. Who is this?” Terrell’s voice asks.
“Hey man, I’m in town. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”
“Who is this?” Terrell asks, puzzled, slightly irritated.
“I’m sorry. It’s Brandon.”
“Brandon? Where are you?”
“I’m in the city and I need a place to stay. Can you help me out?”
“Of course. Hey, I’m about to get off work. Meet me at my house.” He gives me the address.
His house is in a sleepy, tucked-away family neighborhood located in midtown Memphis. The lawns are professionally manicured with lots of decorative flowers and plants and garden statues. In the backyards are pools and swing sets. Gone is his grandfather’s old pickup truck. In its place in the driveway is a black Dodge Charger with dark, tinted windows. Terrell stands at his front door in a heavy wool coat with his hands in his pockets.
“Fuck, man.” He hugs me on the porch of his house. “I was starting to think I’d never see you again.”
“Nah. I miss you too much to stay away for good. This is Angela,” I say.
She stands a few feet behind me.
“Ah, okay.” Terrell smiles. “Looks like you’ve been busy on the road. Go ahead and come inside before we turn into fucking icicles out here.” We step inside and Angela excuses herself to the restroom. Terrell asks, “Where’ve you been?”