Continuing, I said, “Then when I brought flowers to her office the next day, she told me she was engaged and showed me this big-ass diamond. I was so pissed at the dude she was marrying that I showed up at their reception and fired five times. Like I said, two in the air. Three in the water. Now he’s in the hospital, on a breathing machine, claiming I was the one who shot him. When the cops arrived, the few bystanders left pointed at me. Yeah, arrest the big black guy. If this dude dies, I could get life.”
G-double-A stood, stared down at me, then said, “Please tell me you’re not telling me you’re the fool who shot Chicago. Please, nigga, please.”
I needed his help. He didn’t need mine.
I paused, then told him, “I plead the Fifth.”
CHAPTER 3
Loretta
The shooting was my fault, but I’d never admit I was guilty. Why should I?
True. I knew I shouldn’t have dated Granville, but he constantly called me when no other man was asking me out. He ended up being someone to do something with, as opposed to sitting home alone.
Yes. I was wrong to have challenged Madison to that stupid bet. I dared her to go all the way with Granville. If I won—and I thought I would, but I didn’t—Madison had to call off her engagement to Chicago. If she’d won . . . initially, well, she didn’t say what I had to give her, but now she wanted the title to my house!
All the men she’d fucked and screwed over treated her like a queen. If she was honest with herself, she’d know her bad luck was karma. I wanted to but couldn’t walk away from the damages I’d caused, but I wasn’t sure what to do with the feelings I’d developed for Chicago. The dare started out with my not wanting Madison to ruin another great guy and ended with my falling in love with her man. I’d become a victim of my own circumstances. Naturally, I was the only one who saw myself as the culprit. How do you end it with someone when you never want it to end?
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Chicago’s eyes were closed. We were the only ones in his hospital room, but his family would be back soon. I liked keeping the door closed to give us privacy when we were alone. Wish I could’ve locked it, but at least the person outside knocked first.
I called out, “Just a minute,” then kissed his forehead.
It might be the doctor or the nurse. Chicago’s brother, Chaz, would be upset if he saw me putting my lips on Chicago in a romantic way. I’d heard the relationship term “it’s complicated.” Never thought it would apply to me. A few months ago I wasn’t dating and would’ve said, “When people are honest and considerate, staying together is easy.”
Wiping my lip gloss off Chicago, I exhaled, then opened the door.
“Loretta, you’ve got to stop obsessing over Chicago,” Tisha said. Her arms were folded under her breasts. “You’ve been up here every day for four weeks. I came to take you home. Get your purse and let’s go.”
She pulled me into the hallway. I closed the door to Chicago’s room.
Tisha was the darkest of my friends and the most beautiful. Her black Afro was spiked at the edges, letting people know she was strong. Every time she smiled, her sparkling white teeth showed she was friendly. Everything about Tisha was authentic. She was my best friend. Madison’s too. Since we were five years old, Madison, Tisha, and I didn’t always agree, but once upon a time we valued what was most important to one another.
Standing outside of Chicago’s room, I was glad Tisha had come, but I wasn’t going anywhere. I gave her a hug, but this time she could’ve kept her opinion to herself and been there for me. I hadn’t told her how Madison and I felt she needed to divorce Darryl.
He got back with Tisha. Kicked her front door until she let him in. Proposed so he wouldn’t have to move out. All he’d done since my girlfriend married him was spend her money and stay out all night, every night. Darryl wasn’t much of a stepfather to the three- and four-year-old boys Tisha had with her rich ex-husband. Now deadbeat Darryl was begging my girl to have a child for him, when he’d barely been her husband for nine months. Probably so he could boast about having his first kid. Or was Darryl aiming for income security? If Tisha had his baby and then decided to leave, she’d have to pay him and the baby child support.
Tisha was strong; but when it came to dealing with a man, she was weak. I was too. Madison was the only woman I’d never seen let a man get or break her down.
“You don’t choose love, Tisha. Love chooses you.” It took me a while to figure this out. How else could I explain my devotion to Chicago?
“How many times have you fallen for someone, like your millionaire ex-husband, and no matter how hard you tried to hold your marriage together, you couldn’t. Who were we to tell you what was in your heart? It failed because God didn’t put the two of you together. You married Darryl because . . . what?” I planted seeds, hoping to draw Tisha’s attention away from my situation.
“Don’t bring God into this. This is not the same thing, Loretta, and you know it. Chicago,” she said, pointing at the door, “has his family to look after him. And no matter how you feel, Chicago is Madison’s husband, not yours.”
“Well, God sent him for me. He should’ve been mine.” There. I’d finally said it.
Slap! Tisha’s hand landed on my cheek.
“God did no such thing. I will not stand by and let you live this lie, Loretta,” she scolded. “You wait until you’re thirty-five to turn into the worst kind of whore? You’re fucking Chicago’s brother and you’re standing here, claiming Chicago should’ve married you. You’re asking for trouble, and you’re so busy over here you’re about to lose custody of your daughter. Raynard is seriously trying to take Raynell from you. Is that what you want?”
Covering the sting, I stared at her. Was her hitting me supposed to change my feelings for Chicago? The only reason I didn’t slap her back was I couldn’t risk getting thrown out of the hospital if we had a fight. A lot had happened to me during Madison’s engagement to Chicago. I had thoughts that contradicted my holy character.
Some of it I understood. When Chicago introduced me to Chaz, my daughter’s father didn’t want me to have a man. As long as I was alone, Raynard was happy with visitation. What was his real motivation for coming to Madison’s wedding, hiding behind the bar during the shoot-out at Madison’s reception, and filing for custody when he knew I was a fit parent? Was his marriage to Gloria about to end and he wanted me back? Or did he regret marrying Gloria and now realized he should’ve done the right thing and married me? I shouldn’t assume his threat for custody was his idea. Women influenced men to do irrational things. Maybe Gloria wanted my daughter in order to hold on to her husband.
“I’ll get your purse,” Tisha said, moving closer to the door.
I stood in front of her.
A lot of my situations were incomprehensible. It started when the police officer advised me to get a protective order against Granville. I did. That should’ve been a reason not to challenge Madison to tame Granville. Her agreeing to rope him like a bull wasn’t enough. I had to throw sex in the bet, daring her to sleep with him. I wanted to see at least one man knock “little Miss Perfect” to her knees. Granville’s obsession to make me exclusively his woman the moment I allowed him to penetrate me drove me crazy. The only way I could get him to stop harassing me was to pass the torch to her. I imagined Madison falling at my feet, burying her face in her hands, and declaring me the winner.
Exhaling in her face, I was getting tired of the standoff with Tisha.
Why couldn’t I have won the bet? Madison would’ve had to give Chicago back that brilliant solitaire diamond, which was still on her finger. In a matter of months, I would’ve convinced him to give to me the biggest engagement ring I’d ever seen.
There was nothing to say to Tisha. I turned away, entered Chicago’s room, and closed the door in her face. He was lying on his back, with his eyes open, looking at the ceiling.
“Who was that?” he asked.
“No one that mattered.” Glad
we were alone, I reassured Chicago. “You’re going to have a full recovery. Try to breathe a little deeper. You may have to do this on your own today. Madison may have abandoned you, but I’m not leaving your bedside until we walk out of here together.”
A tear streamed down his face. Not caring if the tear was for Madison or me, I kissed it dry.
“Don’t stop. You can do this. Take another deep breath, baby.”
I watched him struggle each time he filled his lungs to capacity. The third time he stopped midway, then shook his head. “Giving up is not an option. You hear me?” If I could get him up to a solid breath every five seconds, he had a chance to live another day, another week, years.
I held his hand. “Breathe with me,” I told him. “When I inhale, you inhale.”
Our eyes met. I wanted to exhale forever. Instead, I kissed him softly on his lips, then wiped away the shine from my gloss.
Slowly he shook his head. Another tear fell. Was he signaling for me not to do that? Maybe he couldn’t believe I was there for him. It didn’t matter.
His lips moved. Nothing came out as I read, “Thank you.” The tip of his tongue touched behind his teeth. He tried to move it down, but he couldn’t. Now I was the one shaking my head.
“Stay focused. Breathe with me,” I said, then whispered, “I got you.”
There were lots of signs that Chicago was my soul mate. We were honest, loving, God-worshiping people. Madison didn’t pray and hardly went to church, unless there was a purpose like the day she’d gotten married. Unlike Madison, we were considerate of others. Madison talked down to Tisha, she was always degrading me, and she didn’t deserve Chicago.
So why did God bless her more?
Madison snagged the most desirable bachelors. She always got the engagement ring, the expensive gifts, the all-expense-paid trips abroad, and she had her way with men in general. If Madison dropped something, men—and sometimes women—raced to pick it up. Whenever we went out, her hand seldom touched a door.
I’d seen children control their parents. Was manipulation something Madison learned on her own? Was she taught by her conniving father? Or was she born that way? My parents were good people. They’d raised me to study hard, get excellent grades, and get a good job. I’d done all of that. When it came to men and marriage, I had to figure out on my own what to do.
I covered Chicago’s hand with mine, stood closer to his side. His breathing had slightly improved. I smiled at him.
After Madison and Chicago announced their engagement and pregnancy on television, people catered to Madison as though she were the “first lady of Houston.” Restaurants wouldn’t let her pay. Football fans of all ages begged for her autograph as if she was a celebrity. Undoubtedly, she looked the part. Maybe I needed a professional makeover to get Chicago’s attention.
Thank God, all of that attention toward Madison had changed. I didn’t want the people who loved her to hate her. But now they did. And even though that was my fault too, the one thing I knew for sure was Madison was a survivor. If she walked into this room right now, Chicago would choose her.
My cell phone lit up. Raynard had texted me. I didn’t respond. I knew him well. His reason for texting was to acquire evidence to show the judge that I was irresponsible and he was the more suitable parent. He wasn’t. My not responding to his text meant I didn’t have to choose between Raynell and Chicago.
My daughter was in a safe place while I was caring for my friend. Couples should be friends first.
The door to Chicago’s room opened. Quickly I stepped back, then turned around. It was the doctor.
“Please tell me she did the right thing,” I said.
“If you can step into the hallway, Ms. Lovelace, I’d like to speak to everyone outside,” the doctor said.
Before leaving his side, I told Chicago, “Keep breathing. I’ll be right back.”
Chicago’s brother, Chaz, who was also my boyfriend, their mother, Helen, their father, Martin, and I stood together. Chicago’s grandfather Wally hadn’t come to the hospital. The last time I’d seen him, he’d said, “Children are supposed to outlive their parents and definitely grandparents. I can’t handle seeing my grandson like this. Thanks, Loretta, for taking good care of Chicago.”
If Madison had signed those papers, I knew for sure that she wanted Chicago to die. Regardless of her decision, I’d try to convince Chicago’s grandfather to see if he could reverse the $10 million he’d given Chicago right before the wedding. If Chicago took his last breath today, Madison would go straight to the bank and transfer everything into her name. I had to find a way to stop her from getting his money.
Everyone was silent. We stood in the hallway. I reached for Chaz’s hand; then I interlocked my fingers with Helen’s.
I prayed, “Lord, Father God, you have the power to sustain life. We pray that Madison has made the right decision, Father, to leave Chicago on life support. If she did not make that decision, Father God, we ask that you become his life support. This man does not deserve to die.”
Silently I continued, I do.
The doctor said, “Mrs. DuBois signed the authorization. It’s firm. Would any of you like to be in the room with Roosevelt DuBois when we disconnect the respirator?”
Helen fell into her husband’s arms. Chaz hugged his mother and father. No one consoled me. After all the time I’d spent by Chicago’s side, and the prayers I’d just sent up to heaven, I stood alone. Chaz was my man. Although he hadn’t said it, I understood that my being Madison’s friend caused him to distrust me too. We, as a family, would get through this together.
“I’d like to be in the room,” I said. “Because I know, Chicago is not going to die.”
Jesus, please let me be right.
I entered the room, stood beside Chicago, and started rubbing his hand. Chaz stood in front of me with his back to me. Refusing to let go, I held Chicago’s hand tighter. Helen and Martin were united on the opposite side of the bed. Chicago’s father touched his forehead.
Seconds before the doctor pulled the plug, I stepped beside Chaz, then prayed, “Father, we ask for your favor and mercy. Chicago, keep breathing. You have family that love and need you.”
The disconnect felt like a bolt of electricity darting from my feet up to my head.
Tears poured from all of our eyes, but no one cried more than Chaz. He faced me, then leaned his head on my shoulder and wept like a starving baby with a dirty diaper. I squeezed Chicago’s fingers. If Chaz knew the truth, he’d blame this shit on me. Chicago was his only brother. Chicago was thirty-two. Chaz, thirty-one. I’d never seen a grown man cry so hard.
God, what have I done? I knew unless I confessed with my mouth and believed in my heart, the sins that I’d committed would never be forgiven.
At this moment I felt like I was going straight to hell.
CHAPTER 4
Tisha
Once a Christian, always a Christian, my ass.
I had nothing against the Lord or the people who worshiped Him, but some folks went too damn far with their phoniness. Being a saint wasn’t in one’s DNA, like being black or white. Young or old. Tall or short. Loretta talked the talk. The only reason she was a child of God was by default. News flash, Loretta. We all are!
Friend or not, she was one of those churchgoers who had started to annoy me by using God’s name in vain. They felt as long as they worshiped the Lord and prayed for forgiveness, they could justify burning down the tabernacle with every living soul in it. Why was she adamant about taking Chicago from Madison? God loved Madison too.
As far as Darryl was concerned, I couldn’t give my husband away. God knows I’d tried. I’d said, “Lord, wherever he lay, let him stay.” But Darryl kept showing up at my front door at all crazy hours of the night, like he was the most eligible bachelor in Houston and I was his live-in maid.
The house of the Lord wasn’t a place that I’d frequented. Treating people nice, working to hold my friendships together, struggling to take ca
re of two point five kids, I did that every day. Money was a blessing and I gave thanks for every dime. Having a husband, but still being a single parent, wasn’t why I’d signed the marriage certificate. My life revolved around my kids and the two best friends I never wanted to lose—but constantly had to fight to keep.
A cloak of sorrow weighed heavily on my shoulders.
There were layers that I wished I could peel off and toss away, like a stripper taking off a thong. There were whole sections that I hoped I could burn at both ends. This way, I would never have to think about those things again. Like, I wished I’d done away with my fallopian tubes after birthing my second son—I knew I didn’t want more kids—but there was something so final about having surgery. I was scared I wouldn’t feel like a woman. Or what if I met a man, walked down the aisle, and wanted to give him the gift of life? The third time might be my charm.
Then there was Darryl. The man I wanted to—but couldn’t—forget.
He didn’t make my life miserable. I did, and I was going to change it. Darryl was no longer my priority. My boys were most important. Being there for Loretta and Madison was next. I didn’t give a damn about Darryl anymore. Wish I’d realized he felt that way about me before I said, “I do.”
Approaching an empty waiting room at the hospital, I opened the door. I sat quietly for a moment with my thoughts.
My mother warned me not to commit so soon. She suggested I wait until Darryl got a steady job. She’d told me, “A woman should never keep a man who can’t earn his own keep.”
Before I reunited with Darryl, I was happy. My boys didn’t want for anything. I had my girlfriends to hang out with on the weekends. Life was enjoyable. Then along came Darryl.
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