by Edwina Fort
I came to my feet as the last grain fell.
“Hey—hey, guys!” I muttered just as the sun without warning got so bright it burned away the cloud.
I bundled the bottom of my maxi skirt in my hand and took off in a run.
“Hey! Look! Time is up!” I screamed as the sun got closer.
“Time’s up!”
But no one was paying attention to me. They continued in their celebrating. The wedding went on and the white horses continued to prance in the street, it seemed as if the little children cheered louder. The many colors from the art fair began to fade in the sun's brightness.
“Can you guys see what’s happening?!”
I was now screaming at the top of my lungs. The heat from the sun was becoming unbearable. I looked around horrified that the people didn’t seem to notice. Their clothes were smoking on their bodies…
Some of them began to… Oh my God!
They began to melt.
I put my hand over my mouth as I gagged. The sight of their skin bubbling up and melting like hot wax to mingle in with their blood was too much.
“Hey! Wake up! Can you feel the heat from the sun?!” My voice was now hoarse as I choked trying to hold down the contents of my stomach.
Still nothing. They continued to laugh and play…
I looked up just as something broke away from the sun. I opened my mouth to scream one more warning, but I never got the chance—
BOOM!
Jerking up in the bed, I cried out from the intense heat, my stomach revolting violently. I clutched it, taking deep breaths so I didn’t vomit.
A dream…
It had all been a dream… I wasn’t really in the park. And the people were not really melting.
With hands that shook, I wiped tears from my eyes, looking around my old bedroom at the beach house feeling lost; the only light was the soft glow from the television.
Dear God, that dream felt so real… The flare hit and I was burning. The memory of the people melting caused a shiver to race down my spine. I was trying to warn them, but they couldn’t hear me. They didn’t even notice that their bodies were burning. The heat from the flame was so intense that the thought of it caused me to whimper.
I put my hand on my mouth when Jessie stirred in the bed next to me. This was my first time having a nightmare that scared me awake in a long time and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why either.
For the first time in months, I was sleeping without Hitta’s big body next to me. It's like my subconscious could feel the loss or something.
“This is not an act of God! Day 14 and the Amazon rainforest is still burning.”
I picked up the discarded remote to turn down the volume on the TV so it wouldn’t disturb Jessie, but my hand paused as I took in the sight of the rainforest burning on live news.
I blinked, wondering if I was still dreaming. The coolness of my bed sheets felt real enough.
“The rainforest makes up 20% of the world’s oxygen and helps regulate the temperature of the whole planet. What does it mean that it’s now burning like this?” the female news anchor asked the guy on the panel who I assumed was the specialist.
He gave his spiel about global warming as the camera panned out to encompass just how much of the Amazon was burning. I turned to look at the clock on the bedside table, three-thirty in the morning.
This was a huge deal; the TV has been on since Jessie and I got here a little after midnight. The only thing that had been trending on damn near every channel including the news was some ongoing chicken sandwich war between several popular restaurants.
Why in the world weren’t more news circuits reporting on the fact that the daggone rainforest was on fire?
“The Amazon is not the only thing burning at a record pace,” the specialist continued, but the female newscaster tried to cut him off.
“Okay, thank you, Mr—"
“No, don’t cut me off! Why is there a blackout on this? The people should know that there are two even bigger blazes in Africa. The Congo is on fir—” The screen cut to two famous black football players sitting down at a table in front of three chicken sandwiches.
“We have Tyrone Johnson and Antwon Richmond here with us today, and they’re going to take the chicken sandwich challenge. Okay, guys, which piece of chicken do you like the best?”
I turned from the channel searching for more reports about the fires. I don’t know if I was paranoid because of my dream or if it was because there was something to these blazes. However, I gave up my search after turning to several more news channels and only managing to find out that the world liked Pluto's chicken sandwich over Bird-Fil-Up’s.
Exhaling, I tossed the remote on the bed in front of me…
“It was just a dream…”
Careful not to wake Jess, I eased out of the bed and made my way to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, praying that regulating my body temperature would help settle my stomach. One night away from Hitta and I was back to the no-sleep routine.
After drying my face, I made my way out of my bedroom to check and see if Westly had made it back. When the cab had dropped Jessie and me off a little after midnight, my heart had leaped with joy when I saw a few lights on in the house. However, after standing on the porch knocking on the door for five minutes, I realized that he wasn’t here.
Diana used to keep a key under the decorative rock in front of the porch, but thanks to Westly, she’d removed it. So I had to go around back and break into the back door. Luckily, it was after midnight and there wasn’t anybody out on the beach.
The house was a mess. One thing was clear, Westly had certainly been here. I had gotten Jessie some food at the airport when we landed, so she was good and sleepy. Once I got her settled in the bed in my old room, I straightened up a bit and tried to wait for West to return but ended up falling asleep.
I exhaled; he’d still not made it back. I just prayed he’d not gone some place and would be away for days. Sitting on the couch, I balled my legs up underneath me before picking up the remote to turn on the television.
I must admit to being a little surprised that all the beach house appliances were still here and had not been sold. When my mother told me that Westly was trying to hit Stan up for money, I’d just assumed it was because he’d pawned all this stuff and had run out of ways of supplying his next hit, but surprisingly he hadn’t.
Okay, so I know you guys are wondering what the world I’m doing. And some of you may even be out there calling me stupid for walking away from Hitta to take care of this little issue on my own…
I don’t know, maybe I am. But the thing is, I’m used to fixing these kinds of things by myself. And I really am trying to do what’s best for everybody, although I know I can’t stay away from Hitta.... I mean, I’m physically incapable of it. I need to still try to keep him and Stan away from each other as much as possible.
Stan is the kind of bastard that made you want to lay hands on him. And Hitta is the kind of man that didn’t mind laying hands on someone that rubbed him the wrong way. However, Stan is also the kind of bastard that after forcing you to punch him, holds his wound while crying assault.
And come on, guys. Who do you think the judge will believe? Hitta or Stan?
Exactly…
So, although Hitta will more than likely be pissed with me, I have to do this without him. And I may not be a master criminal or anything, but I’ve been paying for everything with cash. I don’t know what connections Hitta has, but I know that they could easily track me through my credit card purchases.
You know what’s crazy though? I may be doing all that for nothing. Hitta may get out of jail and realize I was more trouble than he’d thought. Because of me, he’d gotten thrown in jail and there was a maniac threatening to destroy his life. Maybe he’ll find out that I’m gone and say good riddance.
And then what am I supposed to do?
I’d only just gotten up enough nerve to tell hi
m I love him. I’m not the begging type, but if I get back and find out that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, I’d feel like I might beg him to stay with me.
Can any of you guys out there reading my tale explain to me what has happened to me?
If I get back after clearing up all this mess and find out he’s moved on, it will break my heart into a million pieces. I’ve never experienced anything like that. How does one survive that?
As I flipped through the channels looking for more reports on the fire burning in the Amazon and Africa apparently, I forced myself to think about something else. I just needed to clear this all up and everything will be all right.
Instead, I thought back to the conversation Jessie and I had on the flight from Chicago to California. I didn’t want to tell her about her mom on the plane so she could grieve her loss in peace, but I didn’t know when I would get another chance to do it, there was no telling what we would walk into here at the beach house either.
So, since it was silent because most of the passengers on the Red Eye were asleep, I told her.
However…
Jessie didn’t shed a tear.
No, not one…
“Hey, Jess, can I talk to you for a minute?” I’d asked after she’d finished her peanuts.
She nodded, although she didn’t look away from the little TV show she was watching. I reached up and turned it off. That got her attention.
“What’s the matter, Tee-Tee? And why isn’t Unc coming to California with us?” She’d taken to calling Hitta that, mimicking Carmen.
“It’s just us, sweetheart. We’re going to go on a little girl’s trip, okay?”
She nodded and I picked up her little hand pulling her into my lap.
“Baby, I’ve got terrible news for you.” My voice broke as I spoke. It was taking everything within me to fight back the tears that wanted to fall. I hurt for Jessie. Her mama was dead. Her father was missing, and only God knows what Stan would do.
It wasn’t fair that one little soul should have to carry so much.
“What news?”
“It’s about your mama.”
She turned in my lap so that she was looking up at me. “She dead, ain’t she?”
I opened my mouth but then shut it back. I’d gone over a thousand ways to say those words and here Jessie had cut right to the point. With my lips pressed together, I nodded. “Yes, sweetheart, she is.”
Her gaze went down to her little hand where she was fingering the material of my black dress. When her head shot back up, I expected to see pain in her face, but there was none.
“Does that mean you can be my mama now?”
Once again, Jessie had stumped me with her bluntness. I wanted to admonish her, but something stopped me. What could I say to her?
Hey baby, I know Trina was the world’s worst mother and she didn’t love you at all, but you should at least pretend you’re broken up about her dying. At least that's what we adults do…
Could I really admonish her for being honest?
Chewing my bottom lip, I thought about how to respond to that… But then decided just to take a page out of Jessie’s book and just be open and honest about everything.
“Would you like me to be your mama now?”
A huge smile came to her face and she nodded before she threw her arms around my neck.
“Yeah, Tee-Tee! I always pretended you was my mama anyway!”
I was so surprised by her response that it took me a moment to gather myself. Jessie has always been a blunt child. I think it’s the reason she and Hitta got along so well, but I had no idea she felt this way about her mom.
The whole time I’d been trying to keep the truth about her parents from her or at the very least soften the blow of their reality. But I couldn’t help but wonder how much of all the things I’d tried to protect her from she understood.
“It’s okay to hurt, baby girl.” I’d told her turning her around in my lap so I could see her eyes.
She shrugged. “But I ain’t hurt.”
I scratched my head trying to dissect this. I know my niece wasn’t cold-hearted. She’s always told me how much she loved me and had started telling Carmen, Hitta, and Lannox the same thing. But she was declaring that she didn’t have any love for her mom in such a matter-of-fact way.
“Did you love your mama, sweetheart?”
She shook her head.
“Why not?” I was trying to keep my voice nice and calm so she didn't think she'd done anything wrong.
She scratched her nose. “’Cause she don’t give me baths like you do. And she don’t buy my favorite cereal like you.” Her little face frowned up as she thought about it. I could see that she was getting impatient and was ready to go back to watching her little show.
“She don’t never hug me and kiss me on my cheek like you do. She get mad at me all the time and call me names… And she hit me. I don’t like Peaches either. I don’t like the men she bring to our house. I don’t like the way my mama smell… or that white gooky stuff that always be around her lips when she talk. I hate when she come to my school, ‘cause she be falling asleep while the teacher talkin' to her, and the other kids make fun of me.” She shrugged.
“I just don’t like her… or Peaches. I’m glad you my mommy now.”
I wanted to ask her how she felt about West but was not quite ready for Baby Hitta’s here blunt force truths. So, I just hugged her and told her everything would be all right.
At least, I prayed.
Chapter 15
The Perfect Plan
The Narrator
Shivering from the freezing rain, the thin body slid into the front seat of Stan’s rental. The smell of her unwashed flesh assaulted his senses. Placing his finger on the button he lowered the driver side window just a bit, preferring the early morning Chicago chill to the ungodly smell that clung to the crack head.
Hard to believe that his beautiful Angel came from this creature.
“How did it go?”
Still shivering she blew on her hands trying to warm them, filling the small space with her rancid breath.
“Just like you said. He was mad as hell. I thought his big ass was gonna snap my neck, but he bought it. By the time I was done, he looked ready to kill Angel.” She shook her head.
“I sho’ pray my baby girl never falls into his hands.”
Stan snorted, that was the furthest thing from the truth. Cheryll had never given a damn about anybody other than herself. However, he couldn’t knock her for it, he was the same way.
“Yeah right, if you’re praying at all, it’s for your next hit.”
Not insulted in the least she smiled at him. “Speaking of my next hit, you got the stuff?”
Nodding, he started the car. “I do, but I can’t give it to you here. I know a motel where I can give you the injection and you can ride out your high in peace.”
She pointed a dirty finger at him. “If you trying to f*ck it’s going to be extra.”
Stan nearly laughed in her face as he pulled the car away from the curb. The fact that this piece of garbage thought he would waste his time with her when her sweet succulent daughter awaited him at the beach house was beyond belief.
Don’t get him wrong, she was Angel’s mother and underneath the grime, stench, and blisters was a face that resembled his dear girl’s. However, years of hard living had taken away anything that would ever come close to alluring him. But this he didn’t tell her, realizing that her believing he was taking her to a motel to f*ck only meant that she would make this last step to his plan coming together perfectly that much easier.
“Why don’t we cross that path when we get there. For now, tell me exactly how things went with William.”
“Who?” she asked, scratching at an open sore on the corner of her mouth.
Stan exhaled, he was surrounded by idiots. “Hitta… How did things go with Hitta?”
“Ohhh!” She nodded as recognition washed over her face.
“Sh*t… Just like you said it would, one of his guys found me over there on Pulaski. Real fine brotha with a fancy accent. He asked me if I was Angel’s mother. I told him yeah, and he said his boss wanted to talk to me. Of course, I told him I didn’t do nothing for free, so then he slipped me a hundred bucks and I was like, I’m all yours, fancy accent.”
Rolling his eyes, he couldn’t hide the disgust he felt for her. The only reason he didn’t fear that she’d betrayed him was because he offered her a high that she couldn’t find anywhere on the streets. Although it was Fentanyl, it was a form that only certain doctors can get a hold of and can only be taken through injection.
Several times he’d given her a little taste for doing his will, including seducing his imbecile of a stepson all those years ago and getting him hooked on heroin. For that, Stan had rewarded her greatly. It was the least he could do for taking care of the little sh*t who thought it was his job to protect Angel from him.
Of course he could have hired someone to take Westly out quickly, but that wasn’t the way Stan worked. He liked to see his enemies suffer. A quick death was too easy. He wanted them to hate themselves before they succumbed, which brings him back to the most recent bastard who thought to stand between him and Angel.
“What happened next?” He didn’t want her to leave out any details wishing that he could have been there to see Hitta’s face the moment he realized that Angel had begged Stan to help her get away from him.
“The guy drove me to the gym to talk to his boss.” She shivered. “You owe me big time! That giant mutha f*cka scared the sh*t out of me. I didn’t want to lie to him. It felt like he woulda killed me if he even suspected I was bullsh*tting him. I can’t believe my little girl was able to take on a man like that. Gon, girl!”
Stan clutched the steering wheel tighter to keep from punching her in the face. He hated her for those words. Hitta was no man! He was an animal! An animal that deserved to die for putting his uncouth paws on his beautiful girl.
But leave it to this filthy whore, who was used to sleeping with alley rats to think it was a good thing that something so precious had fallen into the hands of a savage. He nearly smiled when he thought of what he had in store for this slut.
