Finding Mrs. Wright

by Sherri L. Lewis

  “Just so you know.”

  “I know, Chuckie. Dang.”

  We got out of the car and walked into the house. Cassandra greeted us at the door with hugs. I took a deep whiff of that peachy smell and it did something to me. Couldn’t help myself and held her a couple of seconds longer than I should have. It wasn’t like she tried to pull away, though.

  I heard Chuckie mutter something under his breath and then he disappeared to go find Tisha.

  “Thanks for the invite.” I stepped back and took in her outfit. She had on a pair of black slacks and a pale green linen blouse. Looked real good as usual.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  I held out the bottle of white wine I had picked up on the way home from Shauntae’s house. “I hope this is okay. Chuckie mentioned that these were all church folks, so I wasn’t sure . . .”

  “It’s one of my favorites. Thanks.” We stood there looking at each other for a second and then Cassandra turned and walked into the house. “Come on in. I’ll introduce you to everybody.”

  Her house was nice. It was small, but well decorated. There was original art on the walls and I wondered if any of it was hers. I knew she taught art to kids but wasn’t sure, other than singing and dancing to kid songs, what she was capable of. One of these days, I was really gonna have to sit down and get to know her.

  The living room was crowded with people. Some of them looked familiar from the church. Others, I didn’t recognize. Except for this one dude I recognized for sure. On one of the days when Cassandra wasn’t in children’s church, he came in late and sat by her. I sat two rows back with Chuckie and Tisha. I kept thinking about what she said about the only man sitting with her in church having to be her man. I guessed she hadn’t told him that rule.

  Unlike everyone else, who kinda waved from their seat when Cassandra introduced me to the group, he came over and shook my hand. He was about an inch shorter than me and wasn’t as muscular, but I could see where a woman could think he was good-looking. I didn’t know if he was sizing me up or staking his territory. He stood in front of Cassandra, making silly conversation for a few seconds, pretty much ignoring me. I could tell he was embarrassed when Cassandra excused herself to go to the kitchen. His eyes followed her the whole way. He started trying to make small talk with me, but Chuckie called me over to where he was standing. I excused myself and left him standing there looking stupid.

  “That’s the dude I was telling you about,” Chuckie said under his breath.

  “Yeah, I could tell. I hope he don’t think he has to be flexing all night.”

  “Yeah, you see the way he came and stood all up in her face? Like, chill, dude. Don’t play yourself by trying too hard.”

  We both laughed. I could feel dude though. Cassandra was worth going after.

  Cassandra stepped out of the kitchen for a second and nodded in my direction. When I got into the kitchen, she nodded toward a pan on the stove. “Make yourself useful, would you? Carry that out to the dining room for me.”

  “So you invited me over here to make me work?”

  “Yeah, you didn’t think I only invited you to eat, did you?” She pointed at all the dishes around the kitchen. “When we finish eating, you gotta bust all these suds.”

  “Is that a fact?” I carried the pan out to the dining room. I peeked under the foil and saw baked macaroni and cheese. When I walked back to the kitchen, I asked, “Who cooked? That smelled almost as good as my mom’s.”

  “I did. Who else?”

  “Chuckie said Tisha came to help.”

  “Please, that girl can’t cook to save her life.” She pointed to a roasting pan. “Can you take that out, too? Be careful, it’s heavy.”

  At that moment, desperate dude stuck his head in the kitchen. “Cassandra, is there anything I can help you with?” He was talking to her but looking at me. Was he serious?

  “No, Fred, I think we got it. Devon is helping me out.”

  He looked at her and then looked at me. “I don’t mind helping.”

  “We got it, man. Thanks,” I said. I really didn’t have a right to be blocking his path to Cassandra, but she had already told him no and from the look on her face, she was wondering why she had invited him in the first place. I was trying to keep him from embarrassing himself too much.

  “Well, I’ll be right out here. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.” He stepped away, but found himself a chair right outside the kitchen. I guessed he wanted to hear what was going on.

  I carried the roasting pan out to the dining table. When I lifted the edge of the foil, there was a large roast with juice dripping off of it. The seasonings smelled serious.

  I walked back into the kitchen. “Dang, girl, I didn’t know you could cook.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yep.”

  “Hmmmm . . . Well I might have to take some time to learn.”

  She smiled up at me. “Yeah, you might.”

  Fred stepped into the kitchen again. “Cassandra, do you need some ice or anything? I can run down to the Publix real quick.”

  “Tisha got some earlier, Fred. Thanks.”

  “How about drinks? Should I pick up some sodas? A bottle of wine, perhaps?”

  “We’re fine, Fred. Devon bought wine. I have some fruit juices as well. Thanks for offering, though.”

  Why was dude staring me in the face like I was pushing up on his woman? If he had any sense, he could hear in Cassandra’s voice that she wasn’t interested.

  “Okay. Well, seriously just let me know if you think of anything you need.” He slipped back into his seat near the kitchen, looking defeated.

  Cassandra continued to point to dishes for me to take to the dining room table. I peeked under the foil each time and smelled some good cooking that could almost rival my mom’s. I was hungry by the time she handed me a drying towel and some forks. “This is the last thing and then we’ll be ready to eat.”

  Fred once again stepped into the kitchen. “Do you need me to set the table?” This dude was looking some kind of lovesick. It had to be killing him that I was the one helping Cassandra.

  Cassandra smiled warmly this time. I thought she felt sorry for him. “I’m just gonna set the plates out and we’ll all eat wherever we can find a seat. There’s not enough room at the table for everybody. Thanks, though. Really.”

  When he left this time, he walked to the other side of the living room. Guessed he was finally getting the picture.

  I waited until he was out of earshot before I asked, “Wassup with Fred?”

  Cassandra pulled some glasses down from a cabinet. “Nothing.”

  “Doesn’t look like nothing.”

  She turned and gave me a look. “You trying to be all up in my business for a reason?”

  I laughed and held up my hands.

  She took the forks I had dried and carried them out to the dining table. When she came back, she said, “We went out a few times.”

  I was surprised to hear that. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” She frowned. “Why you say it like that?”

  “I don’t know. He doesn’t seem like your type.”

  “What you know about my type?”

  I didn’t say anything. Just smiled.

  “Oh, I guess you think you’re my type, huh?”

  I shrugged. After a few seconds, I asked, “So what happened? When you guys went out?”

  She grabbed a stack of knives and carried them out to the dining table. When she came back, she answered, “Nothing really. He’s a nice guy. Intelligent. Has a great job, is godly—even teaches Bible Study at the church. And he’s really into me—really appreciates who I am. He’s everything I should want in a man.”

  “But?” Maybe I had played Fred off too quick.

  Cassandra shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I have a bad habit of being attracted to guys who aren’t interested in me.”


  That stung a little. I let out a deep breath. “I never said I wasn’t interested, Cassandra.”

  “You never said you were, either.” She gave me a smirk and carried some wine glasses out to the table.

  Dang. This girl . . .

  When she came back, I quietly finished drying the forks, and then started on the glasses she had lined up for me. I put down the last glass and said, “I am, you know.”

  “What?”

  “Interested.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  “It is.”

  She had that pretty smile on her face when she took the last set of glasses out to the table. “So what’s the problem then, playa?” she said when she reentered the kitchen.

  “You have to admit, you make it hard for a dude, talking all that marriage stuff from the gate. Expecting a dude to be all sanctified and stuff then telling him he’s your last chance at love. That’s a lot of pressure.”

  Cassandra laughed hard. “A’ight, you got me. But I said we could take it slow and get to know each other.”

  “You did. But I know what’s in the back of your mind.”

  Cassandra put a hand on my arm and looked into my eyes. “Let’s just give it a chance, Devon. Okay?

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  She stood there smiling at me until I heard somebody clearing his throat.

  “Uh rah, hate to interrupt this moment, but a brotha is hungry.” Chuckie was standing in the kitchen door, rubbing his stomach.

  Cassandra broke away from my eyes. “Food is on the table.” She hurried out to the living room and invited everyone to the table to fix their plates.

  Chuckie walked up on me. “What was that all about?”

  “Just doing what you said, man.”

  His eyes got big. “For real?”

  I nodded.

  He gave me a big grin and then we gave each other pounds. “That’s what’s up, man.” He leaned close to me and said under his breath, “If you hurt her, though, I’ma have to kill you.”

  “I know. If she doesn’t kill me herself first.” We both laughed.

  Dinner was nice. Cassandra and Tisha’s friends were cool. I was really shocked to see how well Chuckie was fitting in with the church people. If I didn’t know him from way back, I woulda sworn he had been a church dude all his life. Fred sulked through the whole dinner. Me and Cassandra sat next to each other and she wasn’t shy about touching me or smiling at me. I guess he got the hint. I felt bad for the brother.

  And Cassandra’s food was good. I mean, real good. The only thing better was my mama’s. For real. Her house was neat and clean. Her cooking was good. She was beautiful, had her own business thing going on. I had to be crazy not to make a serious try at being with her. I wasn’t ready to get married tomorrow, but I wasn’t stupid enough to let her go, either.

  I was enjoying myself and lost track of the time. I had meant to call Brianna before she went to bed, but when I looked at my watch, it was ten-thirty. I hoped that Shauntae had been responsible enough to put her in bed on time. I was glad she seemed to be making some changes to be a better mother to her daughter.

  The crowd had thinned out some—Fred had been the first to leave—and it was just me, Cassandra, Chuckie, Tisha, and a couple of other people. I wanted to stay after everyone else left to spend some more time talking to Cassandra. Find out all those little things I had been wondering about.

  My iPhone rang. I looked down and saw Brianna’s name. I frowned. What was she doing up so late? “Hey, baby girl.”

  “Daddy . . .” her voice croaked out. She sounded terrible.

  I jumped up from my seat, my heart pounding in my chest. “Brianna, what’s wrong?”

  The room went silent. Cassandra rose with a panicked look on her face.

  “Daddy, I’m sick.”

  “Where’s your mother?”

  Brianna started to cry. “I don’t know. Can you come get me?”

  “Tell Daddy what’s wrong.”

  Brianna cried harder and I could hardly understand her. “Promise you won’t get mad?”

  “Tell me, Bree.”

  “I ate a bunch of stuff I wasn’t supposed to and now I feel sick. Real sick, Daddy.”

  “Where’s your mother? You checked her room? The patio?”

  “I looked everywhere, Daddy. She’s not here.” Brianna sobbed loudly into the phone.

  “I’ll be right there, Bree. Daddy’s gonna call an ambulance, okay? When they get there, let them in.” I could only imagine what that would look like—for them to show up to the house and find a six-year-old diabetic sick at home alone. DFCS would get involved for sure. I didn’t want Child Protective Services all up in my world.

  “Just hold tight, Bree. I’ll be right there.”

  Fourteen

  Cassandra insisted on taking me to Shauntae’s apartment. I tried to convince her not to leave her guests, but after the phone call the party atmosphere was messed up and everyone decided to leave anyway. I also told her I wasn’t sure it was the best idea for her to accompany me to Shauntae’s, but she wasn’t trying to hear that either. This was all discussed in less than a minute as she grabbed her purse, tossed Tisha the keys to her house, and pushed me out the front door to her car.

  She insisted on driving, which at this point wasn’t the worst idea. When we got fifteen minutes away from Shauntae’s house, I called the ambulance. Knowing her neighborhood, they wouldn’t get there any sooner. I rang Shauntae’s phone over and over and she never picked up.

  I was a fool to think she had changed. Part of me wanted the paramedics to arrive while she wasn’t there. That would be exactly what I needed to get custody without a long, drawn-out court battle. But I wasn’t sure exactly what would happen and didn’t want to be a file in the Child Protective Services’ caseload.

  When we got to Shauntae’s apartment, Brianna opened the door and collapsed into my arms. She was crying and after a few seconds, she started throwing up. I carried her into the living room and grabbed the finger stick machine from off the coffee table. I cursed under my breath when the machine registered 632. What had she eaten? Had Shauntae given her any insulin at all?

  Cassandra held Brianna as I walked through the kitchen. There was a half-eaten pizza on the stove. An empty ice cream pint and a couple of Snickers bar wrappers sat at the top of the trash can. Apparently, Shauntae had left Brianna alone long enough for her to have a serious binge. My poor baby girl had probably tried to eat everything she had been missing since she went into the hospital.

  Thankfully, the ambulance drove up a few minutes later. I explained everything that had happened and they hustled us into the back of the ambulance. Cassandra got in her car to follow us to Egleston. I couldn’t believe we were going back. It hadn’t even been a full two days since we left.

  In the emergency room, I was relieved to find out that things weren’t as bad as they had been the week before. Brianna’s sugar was high, but she didn’t have the ketoacidosis that put her in a coma before. They planned to give her some fluid and some insulin and said she’d be fine. The young doctor initially said that she’d be well enough to go home in a few hours, but after whispering in the corner with the same emergency room doctor from last week, they decided to keep Brianna in the pediatric ward overnight—maybe longer.

  No amount of singing or coaxing from Cassandra could calm Brianna as they put the IV in her arm. I couldn’t handle seeing her so scared and in pain, so Cassandra had to hold Brianna while she flailed and fought when the nurse came toward her with the needle. I felt like a punk watching from the corner as Cassandra and two male nurses held Brianna down while a third nurse threaded the needle in. How that nurse managed to hit a moving target, I would never know, but I guessed she was used to it. Even after the needle was in, Brianna kept crying in Cassandra’s arms until she finally fell asleep.

  Everyone who looked at her chart, and some of the nurses who had been in the emergency room the Saturday before, seemed to be look
ing at me funny. I felt them judging me with their eyes. I tried to explain that it wasn’t my fault, but honestly in a way it was. I had left her alone with Shauntae, and to have expected any other outcome was crazy.

  The young doctor said they wanted to keep her overnight to go over her blood sugar log since the time we left and see if any adjustments needed to be made since she had come back so quick. The older doctor even mentioned getting a social worker involved to see if there were any issues in the home that could affect us being able to take care of her. They were saying without saying that they thought I was too stupid to take care of Brianna on my own and they wanted to keep her in the hospital to keep me from killing her.

  The mention of the social worker bothered me. I didn’t need anybody coming out to the house or grilling me to see if I was a good enough father to my daughter. The only mistake I had made was letting her go to Shauntae’s. And nobody needed to ever worry about that happening again.

  I hated to call my parents so late, but for them to find out in the morning that Brianna was back in the hospital without me letting them know would not be cool. Somehow, I convinced them that I would be okay that night and that they could wait to come over first thing in the morning. I really thought it was only when I told them Cassandra was with me that they decided to go back to sleep. I didn’t miss the joy that broke through the concern in Mom’s voice when I explained why Cassandra was there.

  They put us in a room on the same floor, a little farther down the hall from where we had been two days before. Thankfully, there was no one in the room with Brianna. The foam couch bed thing looked a little newer than the one in the other room and I hoped it was softer. Not that I would be able to sleep. I was too angry to sit down, much less sleep.

  When we got Brianna settled in her bed, I tried to get Cassandra to go home and rest up for her art class the next day.

  “I’ll hang out a little while. Hopefully she’ll wake up before I have to go,” she said.

  I dialed Shauntae’s number again, unable to believe that she had left her sick daughter alone in the house and didn’t even have her phone on. How could she be that crazy and irresponsible? “Okay, but if I get Shauntae, you should probably go.”