Lundyn Bridges (24 page)

"One day when I was about six or seven, he hugged me and gave me five dollars. He was at the house when I came home from school. I wasn't sure who he was and never saw him after that." Romen bit
his sandwich and chewed slowly – digesting the food and the memory. "After he left, Barbara got drunk with her friends and played cards all night. One of her friends made Spaghetti O's for me and Afreeka."

Romen's memories were more vivid than Afreeka's and mine. He had seen the best and the worst of Barbara. There were some boyfriends he liked more than others simply because Barbara was more attentive in their presence. The drug dealers never stayed long – in spite of the money they freely gave, Romen was always afraid of them.

We agreed life had been difficult. I shared my feelings of guilt for being so blessed by the Woodard's. Then I told my brother that Afreeka had seen Barbara in Point State Park – dirty, dying and begging. It was a picture she couldn't shake and maybe a glimpse of things to come.

"Lundyn, I want you to be happy." Romen took my hand. "You deserve more happiness than you could ever imagine. Don't ever feel guilty about what the Woodard's gave you."

"I just wish it was all of us, together."

"That would have been nice – but it didn't happen that way. For whatever reason, we were separated. I'll never understand it."

My brother was fighting back tears, and I squeezed his hand. "Don't be angry, Romen. I want you to be happy, too."

"Promise me you'll never live unhappy."

"I promise."

"No. Seriously Lundyn. I don't want you to be unhappy. If it gets to be too much living with Afreeka, I want you to leave. If it doesn't work out with Jamel,
don't stay. All we have left is the rest of our lives, and it needs to be filled with happiness. Do you understand?"

My big brother digressed and was speaking to me as if I was eight years-old, but I didn't mind – I knew it was because he really loved me. I loved him more than he would ever know.

"I understand," I told him. "When life starts hurting, I'll call you."

"You better!"

I cried in my brother's arms and prayed he would find release from the pain in his heart. I prayed for his salvation because only Jesus sets the captive free.

The Bridges children had survived childhood, but now we all needed to be whole. I took that on as my obligation to my siblings. I would make sure they were introduced to Jesus, the one who made such a difference in my life.

After settling in Afreeka's apartment, I seized every opportunity to talk about her sobriety. My initial plan was to sleep on the couch, but Afreeka and I sat on her bed talking each night until we fell asleep.

"I don't know how I got to this point," she confessed one evening over popcorn. "At first I was having fun with my friends, enjoying happy hour, and then I was buying bottles of Hennessy. I don't remember when it got like this."

"Say it, Afreeka. It's okay to say it."

Afreeka sighed. "I don't want to be an alcoholic."

"You don't have to be," I said holding her hand. "You can decide not be an alcoholic. Just say it."

"I don't want to be like Barbara. I hate her."

"Don't put it all on Barbara," I whispered. "Make it personal. What does Afreeka want?"

My sister sobbed. "I want to be happy. I want to be loved. I want the nightmares to go away. I don't want to be alone."

Afreeka agreed to seek help through the Employee Assistance Program at US Air. I asked for her honesty and promised to be there for her.

The following Saturday we met Jamel at the Harbor for lunch, and then Afreeka took us on a tour. The Blacks in Wax Museum was our final stop. The experience was sublime. It forced me to put things into perspective. I hadn't really experienced suffering and my journey was miniscule in comparison to that of my ancestors.

After visiting a few churches, Jamel was a consistent visitor at a non-denominational fellowship in Silver Spring, Maryland. He invited Afreeka to join us on Sunday but she declined with a promise to visit with us in the future. Jamel squeezed my hand. That was my cue not to push her.

On Sunday afternoon, Jamel and I drove to Gaithersburg to have dinner with Rah'Lee and her parents. It was my first opportunity to meet Mr. & Mrs. Teague's – when I was a child we had no contact. I only knew them as the people who took the twins away and wanted to meet them as the people who gave the twins a family. There was no anger, although a part of me would always wonder why they wouldn't let us maintain contact.

We watched videos and looked through scrap books and photo albums. It was a glimpse of Hustin and Rah'Lee's life. Mrs. Teague gave me a memorial photo album of Hustin. I was grateful to the Teague's for sharing the memories and allowing Rah'Lee to reconnect with us.

It was almost midnight when Jamel dropped me off. When I walked in the door, the aroma of alcohol greeted me. Afreeka was on the couch drunk. There were five bottles of liquor lined up on the kitchen counter.

"I drank 'em all," Afreeka slurred. "Now it's all gone, and there's no more. I can't drink nothing else."

There was nothing to say. I put my sister to bed and called Romen. Afreeka needed a treatment program, and Romen and I agreed my task for the morning would be to convince her to sign herself in. Then I called Jamel. He volunteered to come over but I knew he had to work in the morning. I just needed to talk, and we planned to meet when he got home from work.

On Wednesday, September 10, 2005, Afreeka entered Ruth's House treatment facility for women in Columbia, Maryland. She remained there for twenty-one days.

Romen and Nina joined us in Baltimore to welcome Afreeka home. Rah'Lee prepared dinner at our apartment, while Jamel and I picked up Afreeka in Columbia. She was initially embarrassed but happy we had gathered on her behalf. As a part of her follow-up, Afreeka was required to attend AA meetings. Her
sponsor recommended the Daniel Ministry at the Zion Baptist Church in Baltimore. Their motto was 'God delivered Daniel from the lion's den, and He will deliver you'. The group met every Sunday after service and then on Wednesday before Prayer Meeting. Afreeka was resistant but joined because it was part of the program. Jamel and I agreed to attend Zion Baptist with her.

We were all invested in the process of Afreeka's healing. There was no judgment, only hopes and prayers. One evening, after we returned from Prayer Meeting, Afreeka thanked me.

"I'm glad you're here," she said as we watched television. "I'm glad you push and you don't give up."

"That's what sister's are for."

"You were always strong, Lundyn."

Romen had said those same words to me. "I never thought so," I told her.

"We all saw it in you." She paused. "I'm just like Barbara."

"What do you mean?"

"I understand her. See, I'm figuring this thing out. I think Barbara had dreams, just like me, but it seems easier to give up on your dreams than to fight for them."

I muted the television and faced my sister on the couch. "I don't understand."

"It's about thinking you have to meet the expectations of other people so your dreams can come true. When it doesn't happen, then your dream becomes easier to dismiss. Barbara had dreams and she wanted things like her friends, but they were poor; so she went out with guys who could buy her those things. Then she
had Romen. Then there were more guys; then she had me; then you and then the twins. The dream gets further and further away, until it's nothing more than just a wish – so distant that it's not worth fighting for."

"What were your dreams?' I asked her.

"I wanted to be smart like Romen. I wanted Barbara to love me and pay attention to me. I wanted to help Romen with you guys, but by that time I was angry and didn't care. I wanted to stay with you at the Woodard's. I wanted a lot."

"Don't give up," I said holding her hand. "Promise me you won't give up."

Kiarra and I were talking on the phone at least four times a week. She was recuperating from her internal injuries and contemplating signing up for Teach for America. They were waiting on a trial date and Xavier was still in jail in Pittsburgh. My best friend seemed to be recovering and apologized numerous times for her behavior. She also continued to thank me for sticking with her through the madness. It was more than worth it, if she finally realized Xavier was a monster. I continued to pray for her strength to testify against him whenever the trial was scheduled and volunteered to meet her in Pittsburgh.

Jamel and I met Kiarra in New York City on the Saturday before Columbus Day. I loved New York but couldn't imagine living in such a huge city. We rode the ferry to Ellis Island, took pictures at the Statue of Liberty, ate lunch in the World Financial Center, viewed Manhattan from the top of the Empire State Building, went to the Schomberg and concluded the afternoon
with dinner at Sylvia's in Harlem. Everything moved so quickly and even the people seemed to always be in a hurry. I cherished every minute and enjoyed the day we spent together. It was also good seeing Kiarra smile. I hugged her hard, and long, before she caught the bus to Riverdale. To finish off our evening, Jamel and I saw
Beauty and the Beast
on Broadway before returning to his mother's home in New Jersey.

At the end of October 2005, Rah'Lee began spending the last weekend of the month with Afreeka and I for sister time. We were so much alike, yet so different. We didn't exactly look alike, but we shared common features. We all loved basketball and hated peanut butter. Afreeka liked to dress up, Rah'Lee and I preferred wearing jeans. Getting our hair done was important to all of us. Rah'Lee and Hustin had been as close as Afreeka and I were to Romen. We loved having a brother. We talked about being together for Christmas and made plans to gather in Baltimore. At Rah'Lee's request, we agreed to have Christmas dinner with the Teague's. Romen and Nina agreed to join us. Although we were no longer children, my dream of family was coming true.

Mom and Dad Woodard continued to be encouraging, and they were happy I was finally realizing the blessings in my life. Although Jamel and I initially planned to join them for Christmas, they understood when I told them of our plans in Baltimore. Kristen and Larry were planning to visit in April, and I promised to join them in Naples.

Rah'Lee and I intensified the search for our maternal grandmother, and on November 7, 2005 we
were sure we found her. Phyllis Z. Bridges was listed in the phone book on Valley View Drive in Monroeville, Pennsylvania. The last address we had for our grandmother had been in Clairton, Pennsylvania, but how many Phyllis Bridges could have the middle name Zora? It had to be her.

After many discussions and much prayer, and against Romen's wishes, my sisters and I contacted Phyllis Bridges by letter. A week later I received a return letter and a phone number. I called my siblings and then called her. We arranged to meet in Pittsburgh the weekend before Thanksgiving. Romen agreed to do it, just for us.

My sisters and I drove to Pittsburgh and arrived at the home of Phyllis Bridges around three o'clock on Saturday afternoon. She was standing on her front porch and began to cry when we pulled into the driveway. She was accompanied by another woman who she introduced as our Aunt Saundra. Romen arrived alone forty-five minutes later. The drive was too much for Nina, who was seven months pregnant with twins.

After sharing information about ourselves and informing our grandmother and aunt about Hustin, we asked about Barbara. Our grandmother began.

"Life was hard in Clairton. I was young and didn't have any family. You grandfather, George Walter Bridges, was an alcoholic. He was a good man, but his drinking got in the way."

"Mom, he was abusive. Be honest." Saundra interrupted her mother.

Mrs. Bridges ignored her and continued her story. "We got married after high school and worked in the mill. I quit after two years because I got pregnant with Barbara. We had big dreams but something happened. George started drinking more and more. He hated the mill because he couldn't get ahead. It was hard for black people in the mill back then. It was good pay, but it was hard work and there was never no advancement. Black people couldn't be the boss no matter how good they were. George got depressed." Our grandmother studied our faces as she spoke. "He never felt successful. After I had Saundra, I took in laundry on the weekends just to make ends meet. When Saundra started school, I went to work at Gimbels in downtown Pittsburgh."