And Then There Was Me

by Sadeqa Johnson

  Bea moved down the boardwalk past the swimming pool. The baby pressed down on her bladder and it reminded her that she needed to pee. Damn it. She should have peed before she ate. It was on her list of rules to avoid the bathroom after she ate. The bathroom had a toilet that could flush away her secrets and shame without anyone being the wiser. But she would know. She had gotten better at keeping food down this time. After her last disastrous pregnancy, she had promised herself to get through this one clean. This one was her redemption and she had to make it.

  The bathroom was tiny and full with mothers changing diapers and teens checking out themselves in the mirror. A young woman wearing a jean jumper insisted that Bea go before her.

  “I wouldn’t feel right making you wait in your condition.”

  Bea thanked her, went in and did her business without looking in the toilet bowl, and came out clean.

  * * *

  “That was forever.” Awilda flipped through Cosmopolitan magazine. Pages were dog-eared and Bea knew that they showed pictures of clothes Awilda wanted to make. She was a seamstress and designer, in addition to being a sixth grade social studies teacher.

  “The baby made me eat.” Bea eased back down in her beach chair. The trip had tired her out. The sun felt like it was right on her shoulder and she reapplied more sunscreen.

  “You know you’re only supposed to apply that every two hours, not every fifteen minutes.”

  Bea readjusted her hat.

  Awilda held up the page. “Look at this miniskirt. I’m thinking about giving it a try. I’m doing a street festival at Rutgers next month and I need some short, sexy clothes that will appeal to college students. Something one size fits all. If I take this waist and add a strip of Velcro, I think it will fit most. What do you think?”

  Bea glanced at the picture and nodded her head.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m going to work my clothing line this summer.”

  “How’s Derrick’s job working out?”

  “Well, he’s had this assignment with Tishman for going on five months. That’s stable in the construction business. Said it should carry him to Christmas so I’m not working summer school this year.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s been five years straight. I can’t wait for the break.”

  Bea saw Alana running towards her and sat up. “What’s wrong, butterbean?”

  Alana flopped into her mother’s arms crying, flinging sand all over Bea’s neck and breasts.

  “Sand. It’s in my eyes. Get it out.”

  Bea reached for her towel and wiped at Alana’s face. Sand was clumped in her hair, on her arms, and falling from her bathing suit top.

  “Were you building a sand castle?”

  “Yes.”

  Bea rubbed until Alana stood, satisfied.

  “I’m hungry, Mama.”

  “Here, drink this.” Bea handed her a warm juice box from her bag.

  “I thought there was no eating on the beach.”

  “It’s just juice not a whole bag of chips.” Bea made her eyes big at Awilda.

  “I want chips.”

  “Later, baby.”

  Lonnie and Derrick walked up. Lonnie was bare-chested and his shorts hung low on hips. Derrick wore a tank top over the bulge of his belly and yellow trunks.

  “How cold was it?” Awilda looked from one man to the other.

  “Pretty cold.” Lonnie reached down and kissed Bea on the lips.

  “Oh get a room, you two,” Awilda scolded. “I wouldn’t even put my toe in before the Fourth of July.”

  Derrick fell down into the seat next to her. “You just have to go right in. Don’t even think about it.”

  Amare and Chico were still throwing the Nerf ball in the water.

  Lonnie leaned back in his chair and tilted his face toward the sun. “It feels so good to just relax.”

  “Work been busy?” Awilda looked over.

  “Yeah, crazy.”

  “This is actually the longest I’ve had my eyes on him in the past two weeks.” Bea linked her fingers with Lonnie’s. “Up before me, home after I’ve gone to bed.”

  “Still coaching Chico’s baseball team?” asked Derrick.

  “Yeah. I told them up front I wouldn’t be there for everything. All the coaches look at the schedule and highlight the dates that might not work in advance. Most of the dads work in the city so we’re all in the same boat.”

  “It’s good that you do it, our sons need to see us on the front line doing battle for them.” Derrick passed Lonnie a Coke.

  “Yeah, it definitely feels good.”

  “I coached Amare’s basketball team until he went over to AAU.”

  “And you still coach from the stands. Shouting out plays for him, embarrassing the hell out of our son at every game.”

  “That’s my boy.”

  “I’m hungry, Mommy.” Alana interrupted from her place in the sand.

  Lonnie patted Bea’s thigh. “Me too.”

  She batted her eyes at his dirty double meaning, hoping no one else caught it. “Then we should go fire up the grill for an early dinner. The kids can play out…” Bea’s words stopped in her throat as Derrick took off toward the ocean. She looked and saw Chico bobbing and flailing his arms. The tide had started to come in and he’d gone out too far.

  “Where’s the lifeguard?” Bea stood.

  Lonnie had taken off too, but before the men got to the ocean’s edge, Amare had plucked Chico from the water and dragged him to where he could stand with the waves at his waist. Bea and Awilda made their way down to the shoreline.

  “Baby, are you okay?” Bea reached for her son.

  “I’m not a baby,” coughed Chico, looking from Bea to Amare.

  “Shh,” Lonnie instructed and patted his son’s back. “Let’s get you back to the house.”

  “I’m fine.” He coughed.

  Lonnie put his arm around Chico’s shoulders and steered him back to their things.

  * * *

  They had rented the same beach house for the past three Memorial Day weekends straight. It was a brick-red Dutch Colonial home with a backyard and swing set. It was walking distance from the beach so Awilda and Derrick had parked their car behind Lonnie’s in the driveway.

  “Thanks so much for letting Amare stay with you. Now I can dress up as the naughty nurse and be as loud as I want,” Awilda whispered and then pinched Bea on her behind.

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “Then I might as well stay right here,” she teased. “Later, alligator.”

  “Babe, we need gas,” Derrick reminded Awilda as she got into the car. Lonnie and Bea waved. Lonnie’s arm was around Bea’s waist.

  “That was fun.” He held the screen door open for Bea to pass through.

  The living room had big windows, wide-planked hardwood floors, and a wood-burning fireplace that they had never used.

  “It was.”

  He came up behind her in the kitchen and kissed her neck.

  “I want you.”

  “Mmmm. You better fire up that grill before those boys come in here hungry as hostages.”

  “Just kiss me first.”

  Bea stopped and let Lonnie kiss her long and deep. “Now go,” she said, pushing him toward the back patio. Maybe her instincts were all wrong and things were okay, she thought, moving around the country kitchen, pulling food to prep from the refrigerator.

  “Mama, can you help me put on Doc McStuffins?” Alana dragged her dolls by the arm.

  “Sure.” Bea wiped her hands on a towel and then followed Alana into the television room and set up her show. The boys were on the side of the house throwing the ball. Even though Amare was a rising senior, he took great interest in Chico and treated him like a little brother. Bea liked that.

  When she got back into the kitchen, the whiff of charcoal burning down delighted her. Barbeques always made it feel like summer. The ground beef was seasoned and Bea rolled the meat around between her han
ds and then pressed out patties. While she worked, she peeked at Lonnie on the patio. He sat in the Adirondack chair with his shirt unbuttoned, grinning at his phone in his hand. He read, typed, and smiled. Bea carried the burgers out to the deck.

  “Who was that?” She set the food down.

  “Something for work.” Lonnie flashed that politician’s charm that usually churned her into creamed butter, but it only revived her insecurity. Lonnie was good at tuning in to Bea, and held his arms out to her.

  “Come here.”

  She sat down on his lap.

  “Getting big, baby.” He rubbed her belly.

  “Almost time.”

  “I can’t wait to have my wife back.”

  “I’m right here.”

  “You know what I mean.” Lonnie leaned in and kissed her. Bea could taste the desire on his tongue.

  “Babe, can you make me a mock-tail?”

  “Anything for you.”

  Lonnie walked into the kitchen and pulled the screen door behind him. Bea reached for his phone and punched in the last passcode she’d lifted by looking over his shoulder. Locked. She tried it again. Locked. She tried another combination. Still locked. Bea knew that she could only try five times before the phone was disabled so she crossed her fingers and tried twice more, but neither gave her access. Bea placed the mobile where she had found it, slid the burgers onto the grill, and told herself to stop worrying. But she couldn’t.

  TWO

  Operation Sneaky

  Bea was one of those women who loved being pregnant. To experience life moving and growing inside of her was like no other feeling in the world. Not to mention that undeniable glow, extra sheen to her hair, and people falling over their feet to open doors for her like she was important. Even still, the third trimester was uncomfortable. She was up every two hours to pee and even when she was in bed, she tossed and moaned. Most mornings she gave up at around 6 A.M. and just went downstairs.

  It was nice to be up early because it gave her at least an hour to herself before the mad morning rush. She pulled back the sliding-door blinds and cracked the window over the kitchen sink. The dewy, fresh air was like coffee to her brain and Bea sipped on it until she was buzzed and ready to start her tasks.

  They lived in a two-story traditional home that had been remodeled from top to bottom before they purchased it a year ago. The downstairs had an open floor plan and the rooms were edged in white crown molding. The floors were oak with a ribbon trimming that Bea liked. It reminded her of their previous home in D.C. That house she loved. This house Lonnie loved. It wasn’t a stately home considering the money that they had spent, but Bea knew that what Lonnie treasured most was that it was in the village of Evergreen.

  Last year, Inside Jersey magazine gave Evergreen a top-ten school district ranking, which meant that her taxes were high enough to send at least one of her kids to private school. The magazine bragged that Evergreen had virtually no crime and was one of the best places in the New York metropolitan area to raise a young family. A young white family maybe. Bea could walk through town for three days before she saw anyone with even a tint of brown in their skin. The suburb was short on diversity, and she often thought about the long-term effects of her children living in such a tiny, homogenous corner of the world.

  Bea grew up straddling the fence. She’d lived in Elizabeth but went to an all-girls private high school in Scotch Plains. Code switching between her urban neighborhood and affluent school was necessary to survive, but her children only knew the grassier, fluffier, if-someone-hits-you-tell-the-teacher side, and it made her worry over them being prepared for life away from her protection.

  Lonnie disagreed. He believed that outfitting them with the accoutrements of success early was the way to go, and at the top of his list was the neighborhood and school district. When they were looking for a home, he argued, “No one cares about the color of your skin anymore, baby. It’s the bulge of your bank account.” That was easy for him to say; he was lighter-skinned than Bea, Cuban and Italian, and had a bearing that she couldn’t muster. In the end, Bea was never totally on board with the move to Evergreen, but as with most things in their marriage, she had conceded.

  Lonnie’s alarm went off and she heard him shuffle into the shower. Time was slipping away. Bea busied herself with packing the kids’ lunches and snacks. She put on the coffee for Lonnie, the muffins into the toaster oven to warm, and went to wake the children.

  “Good morning, Chico,” she called, pulling open his curtains. “Time to get up, my love.”

  “Why do you have to do that?” He groaned, pulling the covers over his head.

  “Do what?”

  “Talk and sing.”

  This boy.

  “How should I wake you up?”

  “Rub me gently or something. The singing is annoying.”

  Bea sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his head. “Time to get up, son.”

  “I know, Ma.”

  “Good, so do it,” she retorted. “And don’t come downstairs without making your bed.”

  Alana was already up when Bea went into her room, sitting at her table with two dolls.

  “What are you doing, butterbean?”

  “Having coffee with Juliette and Kacie.”

  “Can you get dressed and bring them downstairs for breakfast?”

  “I don’t want to wear that dress to school.” She gestured to the pink one Bea had laid out the night before. Last month it had been her favorite. “I want to wear jeans.”

  “Okay.” Bea pulled out a pair of jeans and held up two shirts. Alana selected the purple one.

  “Get dressed. You have seven minutes.”

  Bea crossed the hallway into the master bedroom. Lonnie’s cologne permeated the room. The scent was so heady she had to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “You smell nice. Is that something new?” She fought the suspicion leaking into her voice.

  “I’ve had it for a while. Just wasn’t in the rotation.” He smiled at her through the mirror.

  Lonnie slipped his jacket over a stiffly starched shirt. The jacket was soft and thick in the shoulders but had been tapered perfectly at the waist courtesy of his personal tailor. Lonnie insisted on the perfect V-shaped silhouette. A modern-day Don Draper, Bea thought to herself. He noticed her studying him, walked to where she sat, and kissed her on the cheek. It made her skin burn.

  “You make the coffee?”

  “Don’t I always?”

  “How’d you sleep?”

  “I slept okay. Don’t forget about Chico’s science fair today. We need to be there by three.”

  “I’ve arranged all of my meetings back-to-back this morning so that I can cut out early.”

  “Good.” School events made her nervous. Lonnie was much better at chitchatting with the parents and blending in.

  “Mama. Mamaaaaa.” Alana’s voice rang out.

  Bea stood up.

  “Mommy!”

  She crossed the hall to Alana’s room. “Didn’t I tell you that if I don’t answer you the first time to come find me instead of shouting my name?”

  “Sorry.”

  “What is it?”

  “Have you seen Kacie’s shoes?”

  “Alana, please go brush your teeth. You can find your doll’s shoes after school.”

  “But…”

  “No buts.”

  Chico’s room was closest to the stairs, and when Bea passed by, she saw that not much had changed.

  “Chico, I can’t believe you. Up now.”

  “Dang, Mom.”

  “Dang nothing. Don’t let me come back in here again.”

  “Why are you yelling?” He threw his legs over the side of the bed.

  “Because when I talk in my normal voice nothing gets done.”

  Alana peeked her head out of the bathroom with her toothbrush in her mouth. “I’m doing what you said, Mama.”

  “Thank you.”

  Bea headed back down the stairs an
d plated the kids’ breakfast. Lonnie came down.

  “I’ll drop the kids off on my way.”

  “Chico has baseball this week Thursday and Saturday. Make sure you put it on your calendar.”

  “I’m a coach, baby. It’s on my calendar.” Lonnie had his laptop open.

  “Can you carry the suitcases upstairs for me before you go?”

  “Sure.” He answered with his head tilted toward the screen of his laptop. “And I’m running out of shirts.”

  “I’ll drop them off.”

  Alana pulled her dolls up to the kitchen island with her. Bea put her muffin in front of her with a glass of milk.

  “You forgot food for Kacie and Juliette.”

  “It’s right next to you,” Bea played along. “I made them blueberry.”

  Alana’s face broke into a wide grin. Chico walked into the kitchen, picking out his hair.

  “Babe, he needs a haircut.”

  “A shape up,” Chico corrected.

  “Son, it’s going to be too hot for that hair soon.”

  “I’m fine, Mom.”

  “Before you leave I need you to put the trash out.”

  He sighed loudly. “Really?”

  Bea raised her eyes at him in a way that she hoped suggested that he was on her last nerve, then turned her attention to shoving their lunch bags into their backpacks and dropping them at the back door.

  Bea stood in the doorway and waved good-bye, feeling relieved that her first job was over. That morning rush always made her feel like she needed to take a nap afterward—so much to remember and remind. If she sat down and rested a minute, she risked not getting back up, so she put on a kettle of water for tea and then threw herself into cleaning the kitchen tornado that they had created. The coffeepot, turned off and emptied. White quartz countertop, wiped down. Morning dishes, washed up and dried. Floor, swept free of muffin crumbs. Done. Bea poured hot water over an English breakfast tea bag and then carried it upstairs. Along the way, she snatched up Lonnie’s socks (he had a bad habit of just dropping them on the floor) and Alana’s plastic princess shoes.

  Once inside their bedroom, she placed her teacup on top of an old book and then pulled out the top drawer of her dresser. It was the drawer that held her undergarments, the kids’ teeth, and credit cards that she didn’t want in her wallet. She reached under the lace bras she hadn’t worn in over a year for the white gloves. Growing up, her mother had worn white gloves when she checked on Bea’s house chores. Bea wore the white gloves to check on her husband.