"If Crystal's mother's nightstand was a pharmacy, her father's office was a liquor store. Those little guys right there?" Pam pointed at the pile of miniature liquor bottles next to Kristina's plate. "They were my best friends back in the day. By the time I was sixteen, I couldn't get through a day without them."
"How did I not know about any of this?" Kristina shook her head. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Pam tilted her head to the side and gave her sister a sad smile. "Honestly? I didn't think you could handle it. That's why I never told you about it. Or mama, either."
Kristina’s shoulders dropped, hurt etched all over her face.
"Krissi, I know you love me. I know that you love both of us, but I can’t depend on you. Not when it comes to the heavy stuff.”
Pam got up, came around the table and sat next to Kristina.
“When mama had her stroke, you never even asked about it. And I'm going to guess you never wondered what it was like for me, either. To come back here and take care of her. To diaper and wash and feed the woman that made me live in constant terror while I was growing up. Did you?"
Pam stared at her sister, but without judgment or accusation. She waited for an answer, but Kristina didn't have one to give.
"I know you didn't. Because you knew I'd handle it. I always handle it. I clean up the messes. I fix the mistakes. I put it back together when it's fallen apart. But it's a hard job, Kristina," her voice cracked. "It's a really hard job."
The room was so quiet; there was only the sound of their breathing.
"How long have you been sober?" Robin asked.
Pam's face brightened. "Going on five years. I thank God for that husband of mine. We waited for years to go to Bora Bora. It was his dream vacation spot. But he didn’t hesitate to take the vacation time and money he’d saved for a second honeymoon to check me into the best rehab center he could find."
Pam patted Kristina on the knee. "It wasn't that I was unaffected. It's just that, before him, I didn't have anyone to help me through it."
While listening to Pam, Robin kept her eyes on Tamia. She’d been quiet, but Robin imagined there was a torrent of emotion under the surface. Although the intense pressure cooker like atmosphere of the previous hour had been released, Tamia’s body was just as stiff and tense as it had been when the whole thing started.
Robin didn't want to hurt her or make her uncomfortable, but she didn't want her to be the only one that held on to her secrets, either.
"Tamia?"
Tamia started, as if her mind had been somewhere other than there, in the room. But when she looked at Robin, she smiled.
"When your sisters came home that weekend from Lubbock… What did they find?"
Instantly, the light of Tamia's smile faded. She looked to Pam, this time being the one asking for permission, it seemed. Or, maybe, just help.
Pam looked at Robin and said, “It would be better if we just showed you."
Chapter 6
The next morning, the mood in the hotel suite was solemn as the four women readied themselves to visit the Langston family home.
When Robin went into the living room to wait for the others, she found Tamia sitting on the desk chair, her crossed leg bobbing up and down.
“Did you already have breakfast?”
Tamia started, unaware Robin had entered the room. “Uh, no. I’m not hungry.”
They sat in silence for a few more moments. Tamia glanced at her watch several times before jumping up from her chair.
"I'm gonna go downstairs and wait for the car." Without waiting for Robin to respond, she hurried out the front door.
Robin read the display on the entertainment center clock.
The car wasn't scheduled to arrive for another forty-five minutes.
The tension from dinner the night before didn’t even come close to that in the car ride over. To Robin, it felt more like a trip to the gallows, than a childhood home.
When they arrived, the Langston sisters got out of the car, but made no move to enter the house.
Tamia, body held tight, stared at the windows as if ready to run should anyone peek through the curtains from the inside.
Kristina stood apart from everyone else and lit a cigarette.
Pam watched the house, adjusting and readjusting her scarf around her neck a few times before saying, "Let's just get this over with."
Kristina took a few steps away. "Y'all go on ahead. I need to make a call real quick."
Pam shot a knowing glance at Robin and Tamia. "Go. I'll deal with Kristina."
Pam waited until they were inside before going to Kristina and snatching the phone out of her hand.
"What the—“
"I know what you're doing."
"Well… me saying I'm making a phone call, then actually dialing the number doesn't make it much of a mystery, does it?"
"Don't try that with me. You said you would support us in this. You're not the only one that went through stuff. Tamia needs us today. Both of us. You're not about to play like you're taking care of business just so you can wait the whole thing out."
Kristina sucked on her teeth. "I'm not having some kumbaya moment in that hellhole. You acting like this is all about Tamia. Please. You’re trying to get me in there so I can break down and spill all my business to the so-called life coach.” Kristina shook her head. “You know how I feel about people like her."
Pam threw her hands up in the air. "Oh my gosh! Everything is not always about you! For once, just once, can you focus on someone else? Sixty-two hours, Kristina! Sixty-two hours. She was in there. Alone. At nine years old, for sixty-two hours! She needs this. She needs us."
Kristina's face crumpled and she flicked her cigarette to the ground, staring at it.
"Fine." She stepped on the butt, the toe of her shoe grinding it into the concrete.
“Thank you.” Pam turned toward the house, but Kristina grabbed her arm.
"But under one condition." Tears pooled along the bottom rim of her eyelids. "If I have to go into that house and relive every horror I’ve tried to forget since the day I left, I want something in return."
Pam ran her tongue along her upper molars, shaking her head. "What?"
"No more talk of rehab. No more going through my stuff, taking my stash. No more personal escorts to the bathroom. If I use, I use. And if I OD as a result, so be it."
Pam took a step back. Was her sister asking for what she thought she was?
Realization hit her like a freight train. For years she’d done everything she could to protect Kristina. To keep her alive and well, but it wasn't until that moment that she realized why it’d been such an uphill battle. She was trying to save the life of someone that didn't want to live.
Reluctantly, Pam nodded. What else could she do? A person intent on taking their own life always managed to do so, no matter how many people surrounded them. And when Kristina Langston made up her mind…
"I have your word?"
"You have my word."
Kristina gave a slight nod of her own and turned toward the house. Pam watched her walk away, a grief deeper than any she'd ever known, clawing at her chest.
She couldn't help but feel she’d just signed her sister's death certificate.
"And this was our bedroom."
Tamia opened the door to the room, but remained in the hallway. Robin stepped inside. There was a set of old bunk beds along one wall and a twin without a headboard along another, but not much else.
A tiny, rickety table held a lamp, but other than that, the room was bare. There was nothing to indicate three young girls had grown up there. No posters or pictures on the bland, wood paneled walls. No colorful comforters or pillows. No vibrant rugs to brighten the dull brown carpet that covered the floor.
Robin turned to walk out, but stopped short when she saw Kristina. She stood in the doorway, facing Robin, but staring right through her.
"Kristina?"
When Kristina didn't respond, Pam put her ha
nd on her shoulder. Kristina started and blinked, her face void of all color. She slowly backed away from the open door, her hands pressed to the wall for support.
"I… I don't feel well."
"Kristina—“
Tamia interrupted Pam, her hand on Kristina's back. "You don't have to go with us, Krissi. Go to the front room and lie down on the couch. We won’t be long."
Without a word, Kristina walked away. Pam reached for Tamia's hand. "You don't have to go, either. I can take Robin."
Tamia squeezed her sister's hand. "No, I need to go. Now that mama’s gone, I want to go down there knowing she can't hurt me anymore."
Robin almost didn’t want to go, herself. With the damage she’d seen on the Langston sisters, she’d imagined all sorts of horrible things awaiting them there.
But as she followed the sisters into the basement, she saw that it, much like their bedroom, was nearly empty.
She thought maybe whatever they'd been referring to had been moved. Then she saw the look on Tamia's face.
The young woman’s expression was tight and grimaced as she walked to the opposite end of the dimly lit room. She continued until she was at the far wall and in front of a black box. A footlocker.
She stood still for several moments before bending over, unlocking it and opening the lid.
"This is it. This is where she used to send us for punishment. This is the box."
"After a while, you feel like you're going crazy. No sound. No light." Tamia closed her eyes. "You lie in your own waste for so long, you stop smelling it."
Robin recognized the distancing language Tamia used as she spoke. It was a coping mechanism common among survivors of traumatic experience. Sometimes it was the only way they could talk about what happened and remain intact.
"When your time was up,” Tamia walked behind the box and pushed it over and off the wood wedges along its bottom edge. "She pushed it over so you could roll out. And over here…” Tamia walked a couple of feet to two plastic bowls on the floor. She opened her mouth to continue speaking, but all that came out was a weak and childlike whimper.
It took everything Robin had in her not to break down. The woman that had done this to her children was one of the most respected women in the gospel community, both local and international. She had chipped away at her daughters’ spirits bit by bit, nearly destroying them and no one even knew it was happening.
"There'd be water and—“ Tamia's eyebrows knit together and she bit her upper lip. "Dog food." She looked at Robin, her eyes brimming over with humiliation. "But you'd be so hungry…"
Pam stepped forward to put her arms around Tamia, but Tamia backed away. "She'd watch you eat. And when you were done," Tamia glanced at the mop and bucket in the corner. "She'd stand with the belt in her hand, watching you clean out the box."
Tamia wrapped her arms around herself and Robin finally understood why Kristina had fought so hard not to talk about their mother.
There were things in Robin’s own past she never talked about. Things that she tried to pretend never happened. But this?
She couldn’t imagine how they held it together as much as they did. Robin at least had her parents to get her through the experience that nearly leveled her. Who could the Langston girls have turned to when the person who was supposed to protect them was the one causing all the pain?
"The longest we ever had to stay in was a night and a day." Pam stared at the box. "But the weekend we came back from Lubbock…" She looked at her sister. "I'm so sorry."
"I know, sissy."
Pam continued, her voice unsteady. "We had to pick her up and carry her to the bathroom to wash her. She was so dehydrated, she couldn't keep anything down. She had sores—“ Pam stopped for a moment and covered her mouth. She used her hand to finish the sentence by running it along her left arm, torso and thigh.
When Pam was able, she continued. "She kept Tamia home from school while she healed so no one would ask any questions. Made us tell her teacher she was sick so we could pick up her assignments."
Pam shook her head and lowered her voice. "And this was only one example of the things she would do to us. We spent all our lives trying to recover from it.” She stared at the black footlocker as she spoke. “But I'm more afraid now than I was then."
Tamia looked up from the floor and turned to her sister. Pam motioned toward the steps that led up into the house. "I'm afraid that, even though she's dead, what mama did will always stay with us. And I'm afraid we’re going to bury our sister soon because of it."
Chapter 7
Robin silently prayed on the car ride from the house back to the hotel. She felt completely out of her depth. Being a therapist or a life coach didn’t mean she had all the answers. She knew that from experience. But usually, she could see people’s problems from a perspective they couldn’t. And that new perspective usually came with a solution, as well.
But at the moment, she saw nothing but heartache and broken spirits. She didn’t have months to work with the Langstons, she had days. Days to prevent the slow, but sure suicide that the remaining two sisters wouldn’t recover from.
On her own, the situation seemed impossible.
But with God…
All things are possible, she reminded herself.
Once they arrived and made their way to the elevators, Tamia broke away and said she'd meet them later. The elevator chimed and the doors swung open. And as Robin and the other sisters stepped in, she finally put two and two together.
At the hospital, Tamia had left ahead of them. Earlier that morning, she’d done it again. She said she was going to wait for the car, but that wasn't it at all.
"She's claustrophobic." Robin said the words more to herself than anyone in particular.
The elevator doors opened on their floor and Kristina glanced over her shoulder at Robin as she stepped out into the hallway. "Being locked in a box will do that to you."
"She tries to manage it," Pam said once they were inside the suite. "The anxiety issues, I mean. She's been on several different meds, but eventually they stop being as effective and her doctors have to put her on something new."
Kristina took off her coat and tossed it onto the couch, barely missing Pam where she’d sat. "You ladies continue to discuss disorders and doctors. I'm going to lie down."
Pam waited until Kristina's door was closed to speak again. "She's jonesing. Bad. The first chance she gets, she’s gonna…" Pam leaned her head back on the couch and covered her face with her forearm. "The very person we did all this for is the only one not making any progress."
Robin sat on the couch across from Pam. "Don't worry about it."
Pam's head jerked up. Her eyes were narrowed and she was looking at Robin like she’d just spoken in tongues.
"Don't worry about it?"
Robin put her hands up. "For now. Look, it's been an intense day. We all need a break. When Tamia gets here, let's make some popcorn, rent a funny movie and just decompress."
Pam sat up. "You know, that actually sounds pretty good. Ever since we got the call about mama passing away, we've been in crisis mode. Maybe a good laugh is what we need."
And that's exactly what they got.
Robin, Pam and Tamia all changed into their pajamas and piled on the couch with a bowl of popcorn to watch a Kevin Hart movie. They laughed so hard, they ended up getting more popcorn on the floor than into their mouths.
But the much-needed fun and relaxation came to a screeching halt the moment they heard Kristina scream from her bedroom.
Immediately, Pam jumped up and rushed down the hall. She entered Kristina’s room, but didn’t turn on the light. Robin was right behind her, but before she could push the bedroom door open, Tamia grabbed her wrist and stopped her.
"It's better if Pam handles it."
"But—“
Tamia shook her head. "Kristina's not even awake. The less people in the room, the easier it’ll be to calm her down."
Robin stepped back and
leaned against the wall next to the door. "Not awake? How do you know?"
Tamia leaned against the wall next to her. "She never fully wakes up when she has these nightmares.”
Robin nodded. Yesterday, when she and Kristina were out on the balcony, she’d mentioned having terrible nightmares in the past. Robin didn’t realize it was something she still struggled with.
From outside the room, Robin could hear Pam muttering. Her voice was soft and soothing, as if calming a baby. She could also hear Kristina choking back sobs. Robin peeked through the crack of the partially opened door. The light coming from the rest of the suite illuminated the silhouette of Pam on the bed with Kristina gathered in her arms. She rocked her as one would a small child.
"He’s not breathing, he's not breathing." Kristina whispered the words repeatedly as Pam continued to rock her.
"I know, honey. I know,” Pam said as she wiped away the tears from Kristina's face.
"We have to do something."
"There’s nothing we can do, baby. But he's in heaven with Jesus. You know what that means? He's safe. No one can ever hurt him."
The words did little to calm Kristina. In fact, they only served to make her more desperate. The sobs became wails that seemed to come from the core of her being.
Robin closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. It was a sound she’d heard before. The sound of a grief too deep to be comforted.
After a while, the wails became moans, and finally, whimpers. Kristina became still. "I need—I need my makeup bag." She struggled against Pam's arms, but Pam wouldn't let go. She continued to rock her and spoke softly, just as she had before.
"We already cleared it out, Kristina. You don't need any of that, anyway. You're just tired. What you need is sleep."
Pam started humming, then softly singing, as she continued to rock her sister back and forth. Kristina's mumblings came less and less, and pretty soon, they stopped altogether. Pam held her for a few moments longer before taking her time to slide her arms, then her folded legs, from beneath Kristina.
He Restores My Soul (The Langston Family Saga Book 1) Page 4
