Beyond the Hurt (14 page)

“Samson, what is going on? Please don’t tell me you got someone pregnant?” Charlene asked concerned preparing to have a breakdown if her assumptions were true. She rubbed Edmond’s back still managing to console him, but more so to keep her own emotions intact.

“I met Calvin Rogers the other day and I have been working for him.” He stated in a low tone, then lowering his head.

“You did what? Do you know what kind of mess you are into?” Edmond became livid. He took a step closer toward him and gently removed Charlene’s hand from his back.

“I know…I know…he told me that you were old friends…and…and,” he stopped mid-sentence then blurted out, “I shot someone…I killed him.”               

“Who the hell did you kill?” Edmond demanded. “Old friends? Boy, you better get to explanin’. What you are

sayin’ is not adding up.”

“I don’t know…I don’t know…some local drug dealer who tried to cross Calvin; I guess…I didn’t ask no questions.” Samson had trouble getting a handle on his confession. He didn’t fully prepare for the words to be released in that manner. In his mind, he knew a confession was good for the soul. However, the reality of the matter was that his confession was digging a deeper ditch for his own demise; that he may not have the ability to crawl his way out of alive.

At his words, Charlene jumped up and grabbed him where he sat and violently shook him, “Who? Who did you kill?
Not my baby. This is not happening. My son is not a killer.
How did you get mixed up with Calvin?” She turned in outrage to Edmond, “Ed, you better fix this. All these years this has been looming over our heads. This man is trying to take from you what he never had. Fix this now!” Her anger was overtaking her. Her entire body trembled. All of it was too much to handle. “If you don’t take care of this, dammit, I will!” She raced over to her purse to retrieve her cell phone to call Debra. She was hysterical. She ravaged through her oversized bag, tossing out items. It seemed as though everything lay in the way. Her plan was to get Debra on the next flight back to Oakland. For such a time as this, she needed her family together.

“Hi Mama. Is something wrong? You don’t sound OK.”

“I am making arrangements for you to come home on the next flight to Oakland. Your father wants to see you. Pack your bags.” She didn’t leave time for an explanation and hung up the phone to look up the next available flight she could purchase to get her daughter back home. When her mother was frantic like that, Debra knew it best to not ask any questions and be obedient.  They were in a better place now since patching things up in the hospital and with their newfound friendship; she hoped to keep it that way.

Chapter 14

As soon as my mother rang my phone, I knew something serious had been going on. I could recognize something different in her voice, in her demeanor. First of all, she did not like to spend money when she felt it unnecessary. I wouldn’t go as far to call her and my father cheap, but they were definitely knocking on
Cheap’s
doorstep trying to maintain their lifelong membership. She already made two trips to Riverside, which she made sure to remind me of the duration of her visit. If I had a job, I would purchase the ticket myself to save myself the headache of her tirade. However, I didn’t have a dime to my name, so unfortunately that meant I was at her will.

“Hey Deb. Is everything all right?” My roommate finally decided to make her grand entrance and come home, slinging her bags on the couch and floor, from days of being away.

“Gurrrl if you only knew,” I replied placing the phone down to give her my undivided attention. In addition to working, she had spent some time at her boyfriend’s house because it was closer to her job and quite frankly she wanted to be close to him and I couldn’t blame her. He had his own place and money to take care of both of them. Who would turn that down?

“I’m sorry I have been M.I.A., but you know how it goes. I had to see my beau,” she smiled and did a quick white girl version of the back roll dance to let me know just how she had been getting down while she was away. “I did get your messages, tell me what happened.” She scurried over to the other side of the couch and plopped down on a pillow since her luggage occupied the last available space on the opposite end. “Spit it out…what happened? Are you ok?” nudging me to get answers.

I knew the stream of questions would begin. Sarah Wiseman prided herself on being inquisitive and she would not stop until I answered. “You remember when you talked me into taking the pregnancy test?” Her eyes were glued on me as she listened.

“Yes, girl, yes…Are you preggo?” She leaned in and placed her hand on my leg, insisting that I answer as quickly as possible; the anticipation was killing her.

“Well….” I paused a moment for intensity. Plus, she failed to respond to my messages, so she obviously had been too preoccupied to find out sooner. I made her wait. I needed her to suffer a little bit.

“Are you pregnant or not? Did you get the plus or the minus?” Her impatience had escalated to the next level of already being too anxious.

“Well…I was.”

“What do you mean, you was?” She mimicked the exact words I used with uncertainty of where this conversation was going.

“The night I called you…I had a miscarriage.” She gasped when the words released from my lips. “I was rushed to the hospital because I was having pains and bleeding.”

She interrupted yet again, “Are you ok? Well I see you are ok, but what happened? I’m sorry I couldn’t be here when you needed me.” She began to panic. She rose from her seat and wrapped her arms around me, hugging my waist and apologizing profusely.

I couldn’t help the feeling that came over me. Tears emerged without warning. I realized that I had not dealt with the pain from losing the baby. I had not really given it too much thought with everything that happened with my mother and father. Through sobs, I managed to respond to her, “No. I’m not all right. I lost my baby Sarah! I barely knew I was pregnant and just like that, I lost my baby.” She sensed I was having a hard time dealing with it. Beyond the tears, she connected with my abandonment.

“I’m a terrible friend. I wasn’t here for you! I’m sorry!” Sarah couldn’t help herself. She cried with me. She cleared her throat and wiped the lingering tear off her cheek, “I hate to spring this on you now considering the situation, but I’m moving out.” Her statement caught me off-guard. I felt as though we hadn’t yet finished our talk. It was my moment of mourning and she was off to the races onto a new topic of interest.

“Moving out? What do you mean? The school year just started. Where are you going?”

“I’m moving in with my boyfriend. We are going to get married.”

“
Married
?” I couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. She had just made nineteen years of age and marriage didn’t seem logical since she had just begun her studies. I understood though, she was young and in love, at least for the moment. Her father did not tolerate her dating, just like my dad. She waited until she went away to college to even inform her parents that she had a boyfriend. They had been dating since middle school. It pained her to have to keep it a secret from them for so long, but she had no other choice.

“I think it is time. He told me he loved me and didn’t want to live without me. He doesn’t have the money right now for a ring, but we will just live together until our finances are all the way right. It’s enough for me that he is keeping a steady shelter over my head.”

“Sarah, do you hear yourself? You are not ready for this. Granted, he gets money from his parents, but you don’t know the first thing about being on your own.”

“And I guess because you are so experienced in life, you have all the answers? Huh? You don’t know. He loves me!” She demanded in an attempt to convince me, but more importantly herself.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea; I just don’t want you to get hurt moving too fast. Men can be wishy-washy. One day, he might wake up and not want you anymore; then you are left to pick up all the broken pieces of your heart that he let shatter right before your eyes.”

“That would never happen with Brad. He loves me and we are getting married.” Her face reddened and silent tears rolled down her face. I couldn’t help, but sense that something more was going on. She buried her head in her hands. “I don’t have any other choice. I have Herpes. I got it from him. No one else will ever want me or him for that matter, so we decided to stay together and get married and work through it.”

“Are you crazy? That is the dumbest reason for getting married.” I hated to have to be so blunt with her, but I couldn’t stand her sequence of thought.

“What else am I supposed to do? I really do love him,” she cried out in desperation. The side arm of the chair now soaked with her tears. “My life is falling apart. And it’s all my fault.”

The conversation took a U-turn right under my nose and became about her and her situation. I thought that she wanted to console me and help me through my predicament, but I was wrong. She needed my shoulder just as much as I needed hers. The tragedy before us left us both lost and confused. I had no words for her, how could I? I recently learned that my mother willingly played the role as the side chick and my father had been deliberately unfaithful. My judgment was flawed. I should be right along with her throwing myself a pity-party. I lost a baby, but with everything occurring, I still saw it as a blessing in disguise. I truly believe the Good Lord was shielding me from hurt that I had yet to experience.

“Sarah,” I hesitated, “I don’t know what to tell you. Believe me I am in no place to pass judgment. I’m scared for you, for me.  Just make sure you are ready. Call your father and tell him. I know it will break his heart to find out later.” It was almost like my words fell on deaf ears, she just stared back at me with dismay.

My cell chimed with a text notification.

Flight time 6:55am on Southwest at Ontario International Airport

My mother did just as she said she would. I hurried and threw all I could find into a suitcase so I could call a cab and make it to the airport on time for the flight. It was clear that I was not going to get much sleep tonight. I felt bad having to leave Sarah alone after she confided in me about her situation, but she was a big girl and could handle it. Besides, she had not been there for me and had the audacity to leave me with the lease. I felt as though she had no intention in staying if I really needed her to do so.

After throwing all the unnecessary items in my suitcase, it became time for my grand exit. “I’m going home for a few days. We can handle the lease when I return. You are set until the end of the quarter anyway since you paid it in full already.”

Sarah didn’t move. Her face concealed in the pillow on the floor. I had only been out of the room an hour at the most packing up my life for my departure. She remained motionless. I crept up beside her and placed my foot beneath her stomach area to nudge her a bit. “Sarah get up, stop playing. It’s not that serious. They have cures and medication for all that now. Back in the day, it was a plague; but now unfortunately it’s common,” I joked just in case she was still feeling uptight about everything disclosed earlier. She didn’t respond, almost like she planned to ignore me when I came in the room.

“Sarah!” I became furious.
Who would play this type of game?
I had not known her to be a jokester, but I had not known her at all. We had recently met with the start of school and most of the time she had been away at work or with her boyfriend. I really didn’t even know where she worked. She told me of course, but through all the chaos, it slipped my mind.

I stooped down beside her to flip her over with my hands since; it was beyond a joking situation. It took everything in me to hurl her body over to her back. Her body weighed much more than I imagined upon first glance. A faint hue of grayish-blue veiled her face. She no longer possessed her normal coloration. I fell backward and gasped for air—for the both of us. Her face seemed bloated. She did not take a breath. My initial thought was she was dead. I noticed the half-empty bottle of Xanax pills wrapped in her fingers, then I knew she was dead. I wanted to run. In all the movies I watched, when you stayed at the scene you could be a potential suspect in the murder.

“Sarah. Wake up! Sarah. No! Sarah, Sarah!” The passenger next to me lightly tapped me on my shoulder and woke me from my sleep.

“Are you okay? You were having quite a nightmare there.” The middle-aged, blonde-haired woman stroked my shoulder, hoping I didn’t go into some type of shock. Her son was sound asleep across her lap in the middle seat between us. “Before we even took off, you were knocked out. You must have been really tired.” She smiled, still awaiting the signal that I was OK.

I looked back at her and smiled; nodding to ensure her I would be all right. The cool air from the overhead vents sent a chill across my body. We were preparing for our final decent into Oakland. My ears popped with every drop in elevation. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of my dream was fiction versus reality. My reality lay right before me, back in Oakland, right where I had recently left to get away from all of the drama and the pain. My body remained slightly sore from the minor surgery, so all of my movements were gradual. Although, uneasy about being back in Oakland, I was grateful to finally exit the stuffy plane.

“Are you visiting Oakland or returning home?” She didn’t go away. I hoped I could just blink my eyes and she would disappear from next to me. I did not prepare to have a conversation with her. I knew as soon as I answered the first question that another one was sure to follow. Next thing you know she would know my life story. I had no choice in the matter. She seemed like a concerned nurturing woman, hoping I was not a troubled Foster kid who had no future and needed her divine saving. Every time a white person took time out of their day to engage in a conversation with me, I thought it to be for two reasons, to do me some kind of harm or to save me.

“Just visiting.” I replied turning away from her so she would end the conversation. As instructed by the flight attendant I pulled up my seat and secured the tray table for landing. We received notification from the captain that we were preparing to land.

“Who is Sarah?” she requested inquisitively, not taking notice to any of the signs that I truly did not want to engage in any further conversation.

“Sarah is my roommate.” The plane jilted. I cringed in my seat closing my eyes to prepare for the bumpy landing.

“Well, is she alright? You were calling for her in your sleep.” I kept my eyes closed hoping the nice, kind, nosy lady would die first upon impact.
I’m kidding.

“Well, I can tell that you are troubled. I am a psychologist out of San Francisco,” she slid me her card with all of her contact information, “Call me when you are ready to talk and don’t worry about the cost.” She winked at me like we had some sort of mutual bond. I didn’t want to appear rude, so I thanked her for the invitation. I wouldn’t dare burst her captain-save-a-ho bubble by informing her that Black people don’t go to therapy. Just as the thought released from my mind, she continued, “I know African-Americans don’t typically choose to go to therapy, but you may find it is just what you need to get beyond the hurt.” With the ability to read my mind like that, I was already on the road to conversion.