by Lori Titus
Diana’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”
“You don’t know how many times . . .” he paused. Henry swallowed, his face grim. “I love you. I haven’t ever loved any woman the way that I love you, but there’s only so much shit I can take.”
“You’re full of it,” she said. “I wonder who else you think wants you, anyway?”
He walked out the door and went to his car. He burned rubber out of the driveway.
Don’t worry about him, Bugaboo, Travis Bell’s ghost whispered in Diana’s ear. We’ll take care of it.
JENNA AND STEPHEN WERE living in San Francisco when Ahmad died.
It was Melva who called with the bad news. No one from Diana’s side of the family had reached out to Jenna, and according to what she was told, Diana was in such bad shape that she hadn’t thought about calling anyone at all. Word got around via local news and the even more effective South Carolina grapevine.
Jenna and Stephen had only been married a year and were still figuring out what it meant to live together. They were in their own little domestic haze, and when she got word, she felt guilty about not having kept up with her family more.
After Stephen’s mother, there was a flood of other calls. And all of the callers said pretty much the same thing: Diana was hysterical. Arrangements had been made for Ahmad’s funeral, but she wasn’t telling anyone where or when it would be.
“It’s no need flying all the way down here, since she apparently wants it all private. She didn’t even tell Ahmad’s father. That’s how out of it she’s been. He saw it on the news and almost had a heart attack.”
Jenna thought that was odd, but she shrugged it off. Diana and her first husband hadn’t had a good relationship. He left when both the kids were still little, and he wasn’t the kind of man who kept up with what his children were doing. Diana said that he paid his child support, but that was all.
Jenna wondered now if Diana had simply made it difficult for the man to see his children.
Sitting in front of her computer, with morning sunlight slanting through the window, she typed in her nephew’s name and watched as a list of articles came up.
Two Local Teens Killed Saturday Night in Tragic Crash
Seventeen-year-old Ahmad Bell Emerson and his friend, Jonathan Soltero, also seventeen, were killed when their car went off the road and into a ditch off Serenity Road just outside Chrysalis city limits.
The boys were driving from Ahmad’s home on Pierson Ave. They had told Emerson’s mother, Diana Bell, that they were going back to Soltero’s home. Mrs. Bell did not elaborate why the boys decided to leave just past 11:30 that evening.
It is not known yet whether alcohol was involved, but a cooler was found in the car’s trunk. Five beer bottles were missing from a twenty-four pack. They may have been consumed before the pair got into the car.
Police say that blood work from Soltero’s body will indicate whether or not he was intoxicated at the time of the accident, as he was the driver.
As both Emerson and Soltero were underage, the police have questions about where and how the alcohol was obtained.
Emerson is survived by his mother, Diana Bell, his father, Joseph Emerson, and his sister, Raquel. Soltero is survived by his parents, Arturo and Eva Soltero, his brother, Michael, and sister, Carina Soltero, who also reside in Chrysalis.
THE NEXT ARTICLE, DATED one month after the first, was succinct and brutal:
Alcohol Involved in Deaths of Local Teens Ahmad Bell Emerson and Jonathan Soltero
Today the coroner’s office released a statement that alcohol was a factor in the accident on May 29th on Serenity Road in an unincorporated area of Chrysalis. According to the coroner, Soltero’s blood alcohol was almost three times above the legal limit at the time of his death. The vehicle, which was registered to Ahmad Bell Emerson, went off the road and into a ditch. It is believed that both boys were killed upon impact due to the speed that the car was traveling. Law enforcement at the scene estimated they were going over eighty miles an hour. The Chrysalis Police Department has not disclosed whether the matter will be further investigated.
EIGHTY MILES AN HOUR? Jenna was familiar with the stretch of Serenity Road that led out of town. It was very narrow, and - very easy to run off the road. Over the years many accidents had occurred there, the result of morning fog or rain, or the occasional intoxicated or road weary traveler.
What had happened that night that caused them to get in their car and leave? Why hadn’t they slept over, rather than leaving drunk?
Maybe that was the reason that Diana couldn’t bear to talk about it.
She had something to do with Ahmad’s death. Perhaps unintentionally, but still . . .
Her guilt remained.
ONCE HENRY WAS GONE, Diana figured she might as well clean up.
The girls, still on punishment, hadn’t had the nerve to nudge out of their room until a little past nine. They wanted breakfast. Diana told them to go into the kitchen and sit down. There were waffles in the freezer, so she toasted them and cut up a few strawberries.
Maya and Taleya talked quietly, watching her with wide eyes. They had heard part of the commotion the night before but had already been told that they were not to speak of it. And if they should see Aunt Jenna, they weren’t supposed to speak with her either.
“But why, Gramma?” Maya asked, batting her eyes. “I love Aunt Jenna.”
“Because she’s a mean, evil bitch,” Diana replied.
“But . . . !” Taleya started.
“How about: because I said so!” Diana screamed.
Both children shrank back. When they were done with their food, Taleya led the way back to their room and closed the door with a little thump.
“Hmmmph,” Diana breathed, washing the dishes. She looked out into the yard. Leaves were blowing across the grass again. Sometime before the weekend was over, she was going to tell Henry he had to clean it up.
Once the dishes were done, she pulled out her vacuum.
Vacuuming was the one chore she really hated around the house. Possibly because her living room was small and was crowded with whatever furniture that she could squeeze into it. She always ended up having to move something to sweep under it and often wound up stubbing her toe.
She was rounding the corner by the window where she’d seen her father standing a few hours before when the vacuum snagged on something.
Diana turned the machine off. Grunting, she bent over and pulled something hard from under the vacuum.
It was cold and black against her palm.
A domino.
No one had played dominoes in her house for- years. She knew this exactly because it was the last game that Ahmad and his friends played on the night that he died.
Diana’s eyes clouded over with tears. How could this still be here?
CHRYSALIS, SOUTH CAROLINA
Three Years Ago
Every detail of that night was clear in Diana’s mind. She could still hear Ahmad’s voice, teasing her.
“Mama, I know you’re not gonna be stingy with the beer.”
They were alone in the kitchen, and Ahmad came up behind Diana and kissed her cheek. “Come on, the guys just want to be sociable.”
Diana counted all of about seven young men in her living room. And yes, she had offered them beer, which they gulped down between bursts of laughter and boisterous talk. “I do hope this is the whole gang right here.”
“Yeah, we didn’t invite anybody else.”
“Well as I remember, you didn’t invite these Negroes either,” she said.
Ahmad just laughed. He batted his eyes at her, which had always helped him get his way with her from the time he was about three. Diana was familiar with the trick, but not immune.
“Alright, I have some more in the fridge out on the back porch. Leave me a couple at least.”
Jonathan came in the door then, carrying a pack of beer.
“I figured I’d bring some, Mrs. Bell,” he said, w
ide-eyed.
Diana smiled at him. He was a handsome boy—a little scrawny but with big brown eyes and a sweet smile. She could see why Ahmad liked him so much. If she had been his age, she would have liked him too.
“Thank you,” she said. “But I have some that are already cold. We can use those first.”
As the night went on, people started losing money and the crowd began to thin out. By the time it was eleven o’clock, it was just Diana, Ahmad, and Jonathan that remained at the table.
“I’m feeling good. I say we do shots. What about you, Johnny? You do tequila, honey?”
Ahmad’s mouth dropped open in delight. “Really?”
“Yeah, why the fuck not?” Diana drawled.
“Yeah,” Jonathan grinned. “I’ll do some!”
Ahmad pulled the shot glasses down from their spot in the cabinet. He knew where the tequila was, which made Diana wonder if he’d ever sampled the stuff on his own.
He put a glass in front of Jonathan first. “Let me warn you, baby. My mom is made of distillery parts, so you aren’t gonna want to try and outdrink her.”
Diana smiled. With a challenge like that, she knew he was going to try.
“I see you’re the big winner tonight, Johnny. Who taught you dominoes?”
Jonathan threw back his first shot and then his second. Diana saw his eyes water a bit. He shook his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “My dad used to play with our next-door neighbors. Every Saturday night. So I picked it up.”
Ahmad stood at the sink, rolling the empty shot glass across his lips. He watched the two of them.
Diana took a drink. “I know you’re from Chrysalis, but where’d you grow up, Johnny?”
“He doesn’t like to be called Johnny.”
“Ahmad, it’s alright. Your mom can call me that. It’s okay, Mrs. Bell.” He looked up at Ahmad, and there was tenderness to his stare. Ahmad sat down and swallowed over a lump in his throat. He reached for the liquor and poured some for himself. Then he put it back onto the middle of the table with a thump.
She laughed. A deep little trill from the bottom of her throat. “It’s alright. You don’t have to call me missus. Call me Diana.”
“Di...Diana,” Jonathan was uncomfortable with the word, and it wasn’t just because of the tequila. “I grew up not far from here. Near downtown.”
“So you grew up around black folk?”
“Yeah. I mean, my family, we’re Mexican. But my mama is part black. So we’re kinda the black folk too.”
“I’m gonna have to cut both you crazy people off in a minute,” Ahmad warned.
“Yeah? Well who died and made you king of everything, boy?” Diana said. “I wanna get to know your friend. Anything wrong with that?”
“Nothing at all, ma’am,” Jonathan paused. “Diana.”
“So, why don’t you tell me how you met my son?”
“Ahmad didn’t tell you?” he said and looked towards his lover. There was a pleading look in his eyes this time.
“Yeah he told me, but I wanna hear it from you. Everybody tells a story different, puts their own thing on it.”
Ahmad shrugged. “Go on, man.”
“Um. We had mutual friends at school, but I met him through my sister, Carina. So we went to lunch, got to know each other.” He smiled. “And that’s been that ever since.”
“Ahhhhh,” Diana said. “Ain’t that sweet. Ahmad,” she tapped her son’s shoulder, “you know that bag of ice out in the freezer outside? Go get it for me.”
He stood up, looking from one to the other suspiciously. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”
The door had barely closed behind Ahmad when she leaned forward and whispered. “What I really want to know is how long you’ve been fucking my son!”
“Ma’am?” Jonathan stood up, and the chair dropped onto the floor behind him. “Excuse me?”
Ahmad came back in then. “What’s going on here?”
“Johnny’s not man enough to answer a few questions, I guess.”
“That’s not an appropriate question.”
“Mom, what did you say to him?”
Jonathan grabbed his jacket. “I’m going home,” he told Ahmad. “Are you staying here?”
“We should stay the night . . .”
“No,” he shouted. “You can stay here if you want, but I’m going home.”
Jonathan was out the door, and Ahmad followed.
“Mom, why do you always have to ruin things? He was being nice to you! What’s wrong with you?”
And with that, he ran down the steps, got in the car, and slammed the door.
She watched as the headlights clicked on and the car pulled out into the street.
Diana didn’t know it was the last time she would ever see her son alive again. But there was a creeping pain that spread through her stomach as if some part of her own body was dying.
Chapter Seven
Jenna and Amanda sat in the coffee shop where they had run into each other before. But they’d planned the meeting this time, and Jenna noticed—the tone of concern in her friend’s voice. Now, sitting across from her and seeing the dark circles under her eyes and the gray pallor beneath her brown skin, she was even more so.
“She came banging at your door at three in the morning? Is she crazy?” Amanda said clearly having a hard time believing it.
“I’m beginning to think she is. More than anything, I have noticed she drinks a lot,” Jenna said, stirring her coffee.
“That can’t be a good combination. What’s her husband doing about all this? Is he even trying to stop her?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt it. Diana is king of that house.”
“I hate to say this, but can you move?”
“I have been thinking about it. I can, but it’s going to take at least a month. I haven’t gotten the money from the insurance yet, and as you can imagine, the final costs for Stephen were pretty high. So I’m stuck there for a few weeks. I wouldn’t have wasted money trying to decorate the place if I had known.”
“If things get really bad—though I don’t see how they could get much worse—you can come stay with us.”
“Amanda, that’s sweet, but I really couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
It was hard to explain, but she felt she needed to be alone. She couldn’t explain her strange sleeping habits, how sometimes she didn’t leave the house for days, or didn’t eat until she was dizzy. It was all part of her grieving, and she felt that she had to work it out without people around her. That said, she knew the problem with Diana wasn’t healthy, and she didn’t see it getting better anytime soon.
“Well, let’s do this at least. Let’s look for a new apartment for you. I’ll come with you. It will be fun! At least you have furniture now, so it will just be a matter of moving things.”
WHEN HENRY LEFT HOME, he went to Keisha’s house.
He was lucky that she even let him in, seeing as he’d dropped her without so much as a word before. But she must have seen the desperation in his eyes, the slump to his shoulders. Without a word, she stepped aside and let him in. He sat down on the couch, and she gave him a beer.
“I’m not promising you anything,” she warned. “You could have at least called.”
“I know,” he said.
He sat for a while, just holding the bottle, not even drinking from it. His hands were shaking.
“Not for nothing,” Keisha said softly. “But maybe you could use a change. My brother owns an apartment building not far from here. I’m sure he’d rent to you for really cheap. You know, a sort of family discount.”
He smiled. “That’s really nice of you. But I can’t impose. I don’t know what I am going to do.”
“You’ve been saying that for months now,” she said softly, patting his back.
The television was on. Of all things, she was watching Wheel of Fortune. How could she watch this crap? He wondered. But he felt so tired that he didn’t bother to chan
ge the channel.
After a time, he heard Keisha singing under her breath. She had drifted off to the kitchen. She was cooking. He smelled cornbread a little while after that and heard the sizzle of meat in a skillet. It made his stomach grumble.
“Dinner won’t be long,” she said, peeking out from the door of the kitchen. “You wanna talk?”
He said no at first. He didn’t. Keisha sat down beside him and crossed her arms, waiting. And sure enough, he started to talk. About Diana. About their argument and how he’d been frightened to find her outside, banging on her sister’s door in the wee hours of the morning.
She listened, without saying a word.
AND WHEN HE WAS DONE with that, he told her about the things that he’d seen: The black liquid creeping across the walls of his bedroom. The dreams of it, which were even worse.
“You think I’m crazy, right?” he said when he finished.
“I think you’re stressed,” she countered. “At home and at work too. Come on now. I didn’t cook so we could let it get cold, honey. Put a little something in your stomach.”
He tried for a smile. They ate at her kitchen table, which was so small that it moved with the slightest touch. It was pleasant company, and Keisha was a damned good cook.
“You can’t sleep in my bed tonight,” she told him later in the evening. “You take the couch. I’m not gonna start that up with you again. But I don’t think you really need to go back home tonight. Do you have a uniform in your car?’
“Yeah.”
“Alright then,” she said.
She gave him pillows, blankets, and a comforter for his spot on the couch. Then she retired to her room. He heard her lock her door behind her. Soon the television set was playing softly in her room. She’d told him to help himself to anything that he wanted, whether that be a warm bath or left overs in the fridge.
It stung a little that the relationship was over between them, but he knew that was his doing.