Allegra's Shadow

by Dana Sanders Hill

  Mariah’s bliss multiplied, and she could no longer hold back. Anthony laughed, the sound a blend of arousal, surprise and determination. As her warmth vibrated and convulsed around him, he fought against himself to prolong her experience. They rode the seas of rhapsody until their bodies were in exquisite harmony with one another. Their union was a raw act of possession, and when Mariah reached the pinnacle again, wailing his name in sweet agony, Anthony abandoned himself to the whirl of sensation. He bent forward, capturing her mouth in a voracious kiss as he pumped higher and faster, until they were hurtled past the point of no return.

  #

  When the storm of passion subsided, Anthony lowered Mariah’s legs and moved toward the nearest nightstand. He pulled out a few tissues from the box on top of it and pressed them into Mariah’s hand. Her eyes skittered away from him as she took them from him and hurried to the bathroom. She shut the door behind her and rested against it, her eyes closed. Her mind churned. She’d lost her grip on reality. She just had sex without protection.

  What was she going to do if she got pregnant?

  #

  While Mariah was in the bathroom, Anthony pulled up his boxers and removed his clothes. Similar thoughts were racing through his head. He never went without a condom, but he got caught up in the moment, in his need to make her understand how he felt about her.

  Mariah opened the bathroom door and he drew near, stopping in front of her. She tried to look away from him.

  “Stop.”

  She raised her eyes to find him analyzing her reaction. “What?”

  “Looking away. We just had unprotected sex.” He was worried, but not sorry. Anthony took her hand. “I’ve never done that before, but know if you get pregnant…” He pressed a heavy, yet gentle hand across her abdomen.

  Mariah acknowledged his words with a nod. “I know you wouldn’t be a deadbeat dad. I just…” She looked away. “I didn’t come here for…that.”

  “Really?” For the first time since they met, Anthony’s lips bowed into a full, unhurried, predatory smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and dimpled his cheeks. “I did. I planned on making you pay for running away from me. I’m gonna make your eyes roll back,” he rasped with wicked, erotic conviction, “rest up, then do it over and over again.” Locking eyes with hers, he walked backward to the bed, pulled a box of twelve condoms out of a drawer, and set it down on top.

  Heat ignited Mariah’s nervous system, and her mouth fell open with a click.

  #

  The next morning, Mariah called her mother and Solé late to let them know she was okay.

  Then she took Anthony on a tour after breakfast. “We’re about 13 miles away from Midtown Manhattan and you can get to the GWB in fifteen minutes.”

  They stopped by her house that morning so she could change clothes and bring some more back to the hotel. It was after eleven and Anna was at work. Twice a month she had appointments on Saturdays. “And depending on where you are, you can see the New York City skyline.”

  Hackensack, the capital of Bergen County, was a suburb full of diversity in its people and neighborhoods. Hackensack had several major roads and plenty of bus and train routes that stopped throughout New Jersey into Manhattan. “Solé and I often hopped on the 175 or 178 to Teaneck to shop on Cedar Lane in Teaneck, or if we felt really adventurous, we took the 165 or 168 into Midtown.”

  “So what’s the average price of a house?” Anthony asked in a neutral tone.

  Mariah gave him a quick glance. “About $350,000, since we’re so close to the city. And the rents are high, too. No rent control for any building erected after 1980. I learned that while I was looking for my first apartment.” As they drove down River Street Mariah pointed to her right, the strap of her gold purse loose on her shoulder. “Foschini Park. Solé and I used to ride our bikes down here and watch baseball games.”

  She gestured toward the tennis court in Johnson Park further down on River Street, near the bridge that crossed over the Hackensack River into Teaneck, the town right across the bridge and home of Fairleigh Dickinson University. Since the weather was fair, there were two couples playing mixed doubles.

  “Mom and I used to play at least once a month in good weather.”

  Next on the tour was the high school.

  They parked near Beech and First Street so they could walk down, and Anthony grasped her hand in his, their fingers entwined as they approached the school.

  Mariah didn’t unlock her fingers, too startled by the gesture to offer any objection. The two made a striking couple, Anthony so virile in his navy blue crew neck tee and cargo pants and sneakers; Mariah, petite in her daffodil draped tunic, blue grotto wash capris and gold metallic wedges.

  “Some school,” he commented, impressed with the size of it.

  The structure occupied both sides of First Street with three stories on one side and two levels on the other, the buildings joined by an enclosed bridge. “The Bridge”, as the students called it, extended over First Street and connected the east wing of the school to the west wing.

  “They had a crossing guard for us,” Mariah explained. “But in bad weather most kids chose The Bridge rather than crossing the street. It got crowded and hectic up there, especially since there are classrooms and lockers on it, too.”

  “How many kids enrolled here?”

  Mariah closed one eye for a moment in deliberation. “More than a thousand, easily. It’s not just Hackensack residents. Others are from smaller towns like Maywood, Rochelle Park, South Hackensack and Ridgefield Park. Sole’s oldest brother once told us that he knew kids from Paterson who moved in with relatives near here, just so they could enroll in Hackensack High.”

  “Why?”

  “Because back in the Eighties, their school, East Side High, was one of the toughest inner-city schools in the state,” Mariah enlightened with a significant lifting of her brows. “And then there was Principal Joe Clark. He didn’t play around. He patrolled the school with a bullhorn and a Louisville Slugger baseball bat.”

  #

  When they returned to the hotel room Anthony ordered room service. While they waited, he treated her to a massage, kneading the muscles between her shoulder and neck with skillful precision. After a few minutes, Mariah nearly melted into the mattress at the contact. “Okay, I hate to say this, but you’d better stop or I’ll fall asleep.”

  He removed his hands from her shoulders and Mariah felt his body heat disappear. She rolled onto her back and raised herself on her elbows.

  Anthony moved to lie on his side, his head on his hand. His brow crinkled as he watched Mariah, as if he were debating something. “I was engaged once,” he admitted.

  Mariah’s eyebrows shot up. “Gran D failed to mention that.”

  “Three years ago. I met Lisa in college during our sophomore year. In the middle of her junior year, her mother died. Her father was having a hard time coping and she had a younger brother who needed her. She lived in California, and between the long distance and family problems, we lost touch. Four years ago, I bumped into her at a mall in New York. She’d just started a new job at a major food company. We were single and her family was doing well, so we picked up where we left off. I proposed after a year.”

  “So what went wrong?”

  “My job. When my partner Glenda got shot several months later, Lisa said she couldn’t handle it, and I didn’t want to quit the force, so she broke off the engagement.”

  Mariah rolled toward him, mimicking his posture. “Were you in love?”

  “I was, but…there was always something…the pieces didn’t fit.”

  Mariah nodded with understanding. She felt the same way about Terry. “What made you quit?” she asked.

  A shadow crossed Anthony’s face, like the shuttering of window blinds. “It was time to go.”

  #

  “I’m sorry, Anthony,” came Anna’s regretful reply over an hour later. “Mariah’s not here.”

  Anthony shut his eye
s, catching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb as he stood on the porch. He should’ve known she would take off. Something told him to come back from his run sooner, but the icy tension that developed between him and Mariah in a short span of time necessitated a stress reliever.

  Anthony lowered his hand and when he lifted his eyes, hurt flickered there. “She’s gone back to Raleigh.” It was more a statement than a question.

  Anna wrapped her arms around herself. Anthony noted the gesture as one of self-comfort and fear. “I’m not happy about that.” Her gaze climbed up to his. “Call it mother’s intuition or just my desire to have her home but…I feel like something bad is going to happen.”

  “You’ve lost one daughter already, Ms. Hennessey. Who could blame you?”

  She approached him, placing a hand on his forearm and sheer, black fright etched on her face. “I can’t lose her, too. Please. Watch over her.”

  Anthony’s gaze was solemn and steady, and what he said next brought Anna to tears.

  #

  Raleigh, North Carolina

  It was after two in the morning when Mariah arrived at Allegra’s. By then, the 5-Hour Energy was starting to wear off and all she wanted was a good night’s sleep. She peeled off her clothes and fell into bed, not even bothering to brush her teeth.

  Despite ten hours of sleep, Mariah felt the pockets of fatigue settle into her eyes when she woke up. Anthony’s refusal to answer her question was tantamount to rejection, and it felt like a rapier across the skin.

  She needed to occupy her mind with other things.

  Mariah showered and put on a plain white tank top, khaki shorts and flip flops. Then she left messages with her mom and Solé, letting them know that she was okay.

  When she stepped outside, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The temperature had to be in the upper nineties because the sun was beaming and a rush of stifling air slapped her, clinging to her face like plastic wrap. A bead of sweat emerged on her temple and she wiped it away before getting into her car. She needed to see Gran D.

  A brief rain touched down, and by the time Mariah got to Gran D’s, the air was stickier than before.

  “I understand how ya feel, baby,” Gran D replied after Mariah finished telling her tale, “but runnin’ ‘way doesn’t help.” They sat at the table, each with a glass of sweet tea in hand.

  An affronted frown dotted Mariah’s brow. “So I should’ve stayed and swallowed the tension? I can’t do that again.” Her hand tightened around the glass.

  Gran D slid her eyeglasses to the end of her nose and pinned Mariah with a glare. “Anthony’s not Terry. Ya gotta let that go, baby, or it’s gonna eat ya up.”

  Gran D just didn’t understand.

  By the time Mariah returned to Allegra’s, she was more troubled than ever.

  When she stepped out of the car to check the mailbox, it was empty. Then she remembered that Beth Lareaux offered to pick up the mail while she was gone. Mariah noticed that there we no newspapers piled up by the front door either, so Beth must’ve picked those up, too.

  When Mariah knocked on Beth Lareaux’s door, the older woman handed Mariah the mail and newspapers and reported that all was well in her absence. She offered her a cup of tea, but Mariah was so weary in spirit that she couldn’t muster up the courage to accept. Beth must’ve seen the fatigue in her eyes, so she didn’t press, but left the invitation open.

  As Mariah headed back to Allegra’s, she leafed through the mail. Electric bill, water bill, junk. She opened the bills first, then tossed the junk mail in the kitchen trash, placed the plastic-encased newspapers on the kitchen table and picked up her duffel bag. This morning she was so tired she had left it by the door. Tucking the bills under her arm, she grabbed the bag, took it upstairs and opened it. After tossing the bills on the bed, she began to unpack. Mariah put her dirty clothes in the hamper across the room and hung up the clothes she hadn’t worn. So intent on what she was doing, she almost missed the blinking light on the phone. Mariah checked the messages. Two were from Thomasina, and one from a mailbox store reminding Allegra that her account was up for renewal.

  Mariah’s brow crinkled. She didn’t know Allegra had a private mailbox account. Curious, she grabbed her purse and rushed out the door.

  A woman with box braids stood behind a counter and welcomed Mariah when she entered the mailbox store, which was part of a small shopping center and flanked by a pizzeria on the left and a bank on the right. “Hi, may I help you?”

  Mariah approached the counter and breathed in a sigh of relief when the air-conditioned breeze washed over her. She pulled her sunglasses off, placing them on top of her head. Her gaze swept the store from left to right, taking in the various mailing products that hung on the walls and stood on the floor, the gold color of the mailboxes, the copy machine in the far corner and the scale on the counter. She was the only customer here. Good. “Hi, someone called about Allegra St. Cloud’s account. I’m here to close it.”

  #

  Anthony woke up in a foul mood that afternoon. He cracked open his eyes. At least he was in his own bed.

  Even though he’d left Hackensack after Mariah, his trip was packed with traffic jams on the Turnpike, then another in Richmond. At times, it felt as if the universe was conspiring against him.

  He threw back the covers and scrubbed his face with his hands. A hot shower and a good meal should get him back on track, and then he had to pick up Ming from the kennel.

  #

  As soon as Mariah left the mailbox store and got in her car, she opened the handwritten, self-addressed envelope the employee gave her. Inside was a renewal lease, also handwritten, using Allegra’s middle name and a false surname. Mariah’s brow slanted in a frown. The street sounded familiar and Mariah searched her mind for known cross streets, but was unsuccessful.

  You’re the questioner, the investigator. You need to ask questions now. I know you’ll find the answer.

  “What were you up to, Allegra?”

  Though the street eluded her memory, the zip code told her it was in Southeast Raleigh, not far from Gran D. She entered the address into her GPS system, turned on the ignition, pulled down her sunglasses and shifted the gear into Reverse.

  Mariah left her car on with the air-conditioner pumping as she peered through her windshield fifteen minutes later. The address was closer to Wake Med than Gran D. The small, single-level house stood on a dead-end side street. It had to be at least forty years old and the structure had seen better days. The pale brick was in desperate need of power washing or replacement, and the driveway consisted of grass and rock. Many of the houses on the block were in similar condition, and some even had toys and other debris littering the front yard. Mariah doubted that the neighborhood received any deliveries, and there weren’t many street lamps in the area, either.

  Mariah pulled out her cell phone and the letter, and dialed the number on it. A man with a smoker’s voice answered on the third ring, and instructed her to come to his house a few minutes away.

  Less than ten minutes later, Mariah pulled her sunglasses down to the bridge of her nose, then peered out of her passenger window before pushing them up again.

  This home was also ranch-style, but tidy, and not far from Poole Road. A newly washed black Dodge Nitro sat in the middle of the paved driveway on the side of the house. The front yard didn’t have flowers, but the grass was mowed and clear of debris.

  The sun beamed down on her head and the humid air hovered over her as Mariah got out of the car and locked it remotely before heading to the front door.

  Swatting away a bug of indeterminate species, Mariah knocked on the door and when it opened, the bell attached to it jingled.

  A dark brown woman with graying dark hair pulled into a bun and dark eyes stood behind the screen door. She appeared to be in her early to mid-fifties and held a lit Newport cigarette in her right hand.

  The woman stood about Mariah’s height, but she was broader through the shou
lders and waist. The hard, sharp glint in her eyes let you know that she wasn’t someone to fool with. Mariah wouldn’t be surprised if the woman had a shotgun behind the door. She cleared her throat. “Hello. I just called y—”

  The woman pushed the screen door outward, causing Mariah to step back a foot. Mariah surmised that the woman must’ve been born and bred here, because she wore a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, despite the scorching temperature. “Yeah,” she answered in a heavy accent.

  Mariah fought to keep the surprise off her face, and was grateful she kept her sunglasses on. The man she’d talked to was a woman. “Hi, I just called.”

  “When do ya need the place?”

  Mariah blinked and fought to regain her composure. No credit checks or references? “No, I wasn’t calling to rent. I was—”

  “Then what the devil ya call me for?” The woman’s eyes became slits.

  “This.” She reached in her purse and pulled out the letter, showing it to her.

  She snatched the letter out of Mariah’s hand, glanced over it, and thrust it toward Mariah. “That Debra. I told her if they don’t renew, forget ‘em.”

  Mariah snatched the letter back. “My sister rented from you—”

  “So why’d she sends ya?”

  “She didn’t,” Mariah retorted.

  The woman paused, inhaling a long drag of the cigarette, but never taking her eyes off Mariah. “So what ya want from me?” Smoke wafted out of her mouth and up into the air.

  Mariah fought not to shake her head and cough. She pulled out Allegra’s picture. “Do you remember her?”

  “No, but Debra would. Debra,” she called over her shoulder.

  A brown-skinned woman wearing jeans, a tank top and flip-flops came outside. She appeared to be in her early twenties with pixie-cut, dark hair, sharp features. “Yes, Ma?” she asked in a mild, interested voice.

  When Debra reached Mariah, her mother turned away, but not before she gave her daughter the evil eye.

  Debra sighed, but otherwise ignored her mother.