Her double life became draining. The urge to purge controlled her. She couldn’t make herself stop. Every morning she woke up promising herself that she wouldn’t do it again but after breakfast she was in the bathroom running the water from the faucet to cover the sounds of her heaving it back up. It became the only thing that mattered in her life. She was helpless to the feeling of relief as the food left her belly. It was her drug, her secret affair. The need for her fix drove everything out, even the safety of the baby she was carrying.
They lived daily with Lonnie’s flaws but Bea didn’t want him to know her vulnerability. When her blood pressure shot up, her electrolytes dropped low, and she tested positive for gestational diabetes, Bea implored her doctor to keep her patient confidentiality intact. Lonnie was told that Bea was suffering from pregnancy complications when she was hospitalized five weeks before her due date and pumped with magnesium.
At thirty-six weeks, Alana was born a month prematurely with a low birth weight but no detectable birth defects. It was wait and see. For nearly three weeks, Alana lived in the same NICU where Bea worked. It devastated Bea when she became one of the mothers that she was used to caring for.
Dr. Spellman was the only person who could talk her into getting real help, convincing her that with two children to care for it was impossible to recover alone. Bea lied to Lonnie and told him that she was visiting Alana but was really attending an eating disorder support group five blocks from the hospital. She hated going, despised listening to women talk about their disease. It was like holding up a magnifying glass to Bea’s life and she didn’t enjoy the sifting and sorting. Eventually she came around and started believing in the techniques and using the methods that they gave her to heal. Dr. Spellman recommended a nutritionist who helped Bea plan her meals. Exercise was a key distraction so Bea bought a jogging stroller.
When Alana came home and they started settling back into their lives, Lonnie tried to restore order by being around more. He bought Bea expensive handbags, took paternity leave from work, and promised her all sorts of things but Bea only wanted one thing.
“If you want this to work, if you want my forgiveness, then I never want you to see the child or that woman again. They are not our family. I’ll send a monthly check, but that’s it.” In her heart Bea knew this was wrong but she rationalized that she was doing it for her children’s sake, for appearance’s sake, for her own sake. No one knew that the boy existed. Not even her mother. Not even Awilda.
FIVE
Daddy’s Home
When Lonnie unlocked the side door, it was like the skies parted and streamed sunshine right into their kitchen. He had been getting home so late and leaving so early that Bea wondered why he came home at all. The kids had not laid eyes on him since the morning he’d driven them to school. Bea only felt his hands on her at night. Alana took off running when she heard the door open, chanting his name in her made-up song.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. What did you bring me?”
“A kiss.” Lonnie bent over and pecked her face.
“That all?”
“A hug.” He smothered her in his arms.
“A piece of candy?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a peppermint.
“Yes. Thank you.” And then she was off, back to whatever she’d been doing before he entered. Chico was much cooler, or tried to be anyway.
“’Sup, Dad.” He leaned in for a chest bump. Lonnie ruffled his hair. “Don’t do that. You’ll mess it up.”
“It’s already a mess,” Bea interjected.
“You ready for your game today?”
“Yeah. I finished all of my homework. What time are we leaving? I want to get there early.”
“Right after dinner.”
“Can I go outside?”
“Sure.” Bea sat at the kitchen table checking Chico’s math homework. Lonnie leaned down to kiss her lips but Bea turned her cheek.
“Oh boy, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Mena’s baby okay?”
He always referred to the baby as Mena’s baby. Bea wasn’t sure if that was his way of maintaining distance or not. Instead of responding, she grabbed his hand so that he could help her stand and pressed the earring she found into his palm. Their eyes met. Bea made her way to the stairs.
“Mom, can I have a snack?”
“No.”
“But I’m hungry.”
“Dinner will be served in a few minutes. Go out onto the deck and get some air.”
Bea was upstairs, searching her closet for something to wear. Lonnie walked in behind her.
“Bea.” He turned his amber eyes on her in that way he used to say that he could explain.
Bea tugged on a stretchy pair of maternity pants.
“Honey.”
She pulled a fitted top down over her belly just as the baby moved.
“I saw that.” Lonnie half-grinned.
Bea rubbed her tummy, reminding herself to calm down. Don’t get mad. Don’t pass your anger on to the baby, she coached herself. Breathe.
“I’m not going to the game with you. Dinner is on the stove. Alana will have to sit on the sidelines. Take a snack for her. She’ll be hungry by halftime. When you get back, tell Chico to shower. You can just put Alana to bed.”
“Can we talk?”
“No, we can’t. I don’t want to hear anything you make up to say. I’m tired, Lonnie.”
“I can explain.”
“Can’t you always?” She clenched her teeth, trying to control the emotions that threatened to surface. She didn’t want to let loose. For the baby’s sake and her own children downstairs. When she received that initial call from Miami vice, Lonnie had come home and found her in their bedroom. When she saw him, she didn’t think about being six months pregnant. All she felt was wrath. Bea jumped off the bed and onto Lonnie. Her fingers looped around his neck and she tried to choke him. She wasn’t sure where the strength had come from but she wrestled him to the bed and squeezed his throat until he started coughing and pushed her off. Chico was standing in their bedroom doorway crying, terrified. After that, she vowed never to argue with him when the kids were within earshot. She wanted them to feel secure.
Lonnie blocked the doorway.
“Move.”
“Just hear me out, please.” He put his hands up in surrender, like he was the good guy.
“Just let me go. It’s for the best.”
Lonnie sighed and then stepped aside. Bea brushed past him. He grabbed her hand but she quickly unthreaded her fingertips.
“Kids, I have to run out. Dad’s going to serve dinner.”
“You’re not coming to my game?” Chico whined, which threw her off guard. These days his world seemed to revolve around Lonnie. Bea was just his laundry lady, personal driver, secretary, and cook.
“I have to do something for Nona.”
“Can’t you do it tomorrow?”
“I don’t want you to go,” Alana cried.
“Sure you can’t stay?” Lonnie was in the kitchen now, beside the kids. Bea grabbed her purse and her keys and walked out the back door.
* * *
She hadn’t initially intended to go see her mother today but she really had nothing better to do. When the car started moving in that direction, Bea realized that there was nothing that she wanted more than to fall into her mother’s arms, let her feed her, fuss over her, and baby her a bit. The city of Elizabeth was about fifteen minutes from Evergreen and Bea maneuvered her car without giving it much thought.
Her mother’s building was an old walk-up. She still lived on the third floor in the two-bedroom apartment that Bea spent her entire adolescent life in. The walls were stained from years of handprints, and the hall smelled like locrio de pollo, rice with chicken. Bea hoped the smell was coming from her mother’s apartment. She could use some Dominican comfort food.
“Ah, Beatrice. Mija, donde has estado?” Her mother called to her tenderly with h
er meaty hands in the air when Bea pushed opened the front door. Bea stopped a few steps in and saw Awilda sitting at the table sipping on her mother’s famous coconut drink that she made by the gallon. Disappointed they weren’t alone, she forced the door closed with her foot. She didn’t feel like sharing her mother’s attention today.
“What’re you doing here, Wilde?” Bea leaned down to kiss her mother’s cheeks. “Hi, Mami.”
“Hanging out,” Awilda replied, a bit sloshed from the drink.
“Oh, so dark, baby. Too much time in that hot sun last weekend? I told you, apply lots of sunscreen, wide hat, and glasses. You can’t get away with browning your skin like Wilde.”
Bea sunk heavily into a kitchen chair.
“No matter how dark she gets, she always has that little extra thing about her. What do the French call it?”
“Je ne sais quoi.” Awilda grinned.
Bea chewed her nail, not needing to be reminded of how Awilda had that “it” factor and she didn’t.
“Irma, she wore so much sunscreen that I could have fried chicken on her thigh.”
“Well, I guess it could have been worse.” Awilda and Irma touched arms and laughed. “Even as a baby Bea would turn golden just from being in the car. My mami, may she rest in peace, use to give me such a headache about it. Telling me she already had her daddy’s cocolo blood in her. She didn’t need the sun too.”
“I was the only kid playing outside in the summer wearing a sun visor and long sleeves in ninety-degree weather.”
“It was for the best. I worked hard to keep your value up and look how things turned out. You know our men prefer their women with light, creamy skin,” Irma said matter-of-factly.
“Not where I’m from. My father always said the darker the berry the sweeter the juice,” Awilda piped in.
“Back in Santo Domingo, when I was growing up, you didn’t even get the best meat from the butcher if you were too brown. Women in this building still mix together products to bleach their skin.”
“Mami, that’s ridiculous.”
“But it’s true.”
“What do you have to eat?” Bea interrupted, not wanting to take on any of her mother’s colorist crap. She had been plagued with it her whole life; now that she was an adult she didn’t want to put it on. The ignorance of it reminded her of her own childhood torment. Growing up on a block that was mostly Puerto Rican and Dominican, the name-calling was relentless. They called her cocolo because everybody knew her father was black, and puerca, a female pig, because she was bigger than most. And even with all of Bea’s flaws, there were still chicas lower on the hierarchy of Hispanic beauty. They were the bitter and bold. Darker-skinned girls with beady hair that had been dyed, fried, and relaxed with chemicals until it came out in clumps. Those were the girls who treated Bea the cruelest. The ones who had Bea looking over her shoulder, accusing her of thinking she was better because she had “good hair.” They would chase her down the street with gardening shears, threatening to cut it off so she would look like a true cocolo, sending her back to her roots, but she didn’t want to think about all of that. She came to her mother’s house to be cheered up, not torn down.
“Wilde’s been trying to get me to try new food. What the hell is this again?”
“It’s called doro wat. It’s a chicken dish from that Ethiopian restaurant on South Orange Avenue. Try it, Bea.” Awilda opened the container. Bea didn’t like the smell of it, and since when did her mother eat anything but Dominican food?
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Where are the kids?” Irma spooned a bit into her mouth. “Bea, it really is good. Sure you don’t want a little nibble?”
Bea shook her head. “Chico has a game.”
“Lonnie’s coaching?”
“Yeah.” Bea crossed her ankles. She knew where this conversation was heading. She could say her mother’s line with her and be spot on.
“That’s a good man. A really good man. My Beatrice is lucky to have him.”
Bea could feel Awilda’s eyes on her but she busied herself with a loose thread on her shirt.
Irma continued. “Did you know that man bought me a brand new cell phone and has been paying the bill as a birthday gift? I tell you, he’s a good man.” Irma made the sign of the cross. “I thank God every night down on my stiff knees that he heads our family.”
Bea should have gone to the bookstore instead. A historical romance would have cheered her up much better than this. Irma pressed her hands down on the table and swung her wide hips toward the bathroom down the hall. In her day, Irma had been shaped like an acoustic guitar. Now she was more like a tom-tom drum. Bea thought to herself, if my father was still living, she would have never let herself go like that.
“You going to tell your mom about finding the earring?”
“Did you call your mom about Derrick?”
“Well that’s pretty ugly.”
“Why’re you here?”
“Is there a problem, Bea?” She arched her brows.
“You didn’t mention dropping by when I saw you.”
“Oh, now I need permission to see Irma? Since when?”
“Forget it.” Bea waved her hand.
She knew that Awilda visited her mother. They were old friends. When Awilda became pregnant with Amare, her mother kicked her out and Irma stepped in to help her. The two were like girlfriends and more often than not it irked Bea. Tonight, she would have preferred to be with her mother alone.
“I never see you out this time of night. What’s got you all riled up?”
“Just needed some air.” Bea dropped her head into her hands.
“Mija, what’s wrong?” her mother was back down the hall.
“Just tired from the pregnancy.”
“All that work and you’re just going to give my grandchild away like yesterday’s trash.”
“Ma, I told you the baby isn’t mine. It’s Mena’s egg and Clark’s sperm. I’m just carrying it.”
“I’ve never heard of such foolishness. You, Wilde?” She took a sip from her coconut drink.
“Yeah. It’s becoming pretty common these days.”
“Modern medicine is something.” Irma sipped.
Lonnie sent Bea a text message.
Come home baby, please. So we can talk.
“Is that Lonnie?” Her mother smiled broadly. Bea was sickened by her admiration.
“Yeah.”
“You better be heading home then.”
Bea sighed. “I still have to get the clothes ready for school tomorrow.”
“Okay, my lucky girl.” Her mother kissed her cheek.
“Text me when you get in.” Awilda waved.
Bea closed the door behind her with her mother’s voice ringing in her ear. You are so lucky. You are so lucky to have Lonnie. He’s a good man. It’s all Bea had heard since she said I do. Even if her mother knew all about his secret transgressions, Bea wasn’t convinced it would change her position. Irma equated a good man with him bringing his paycheck to the table and taking care of things. The very first time Bea caught Lonnie banging his secretary up against his desk, Bea ran home to her mother and told her it was over. She wouldn’t stay with a man who cheated.
Irma told her, “Baby, cheating is the least of your worries. As long as that man brings his paycheck home to you, that’s what matters.” Lonnie paid the bills but she paid the emotional cost.
Bea had been driving with no destination in mind. Her eyes tuned in to her surroundings. Up ahead she spied the golden arches. Her pulse quickened. The taste of McDonald’s had been on her tongue for several days. Just the smell of it would give her the comfort that her mother had not. Fast food was on her avoid list but if she splurged, it had to be in controlled portions. Bea breathed in the smell of salt and grease as she shifted her car into park. What she wanted to order and what she needed were two different meals. Her fixed McDonald’s meal plan was a cheeseburger, small fries, and if she drank water she could have half of an
apple pie. Her favorite was a Quarter Pounder with Cheese, but like potato chips she couldn’t eat just one. Two or three of those meals could easily fit into her belly.
“Can I take your order?” The voice sounded scratchy through the speaker system.
“May I have a…”
Bea didn’t have to look over her right shoulder to know that the dark horse had entered the car. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck pull away from her skin.
“What? Repeat that?”
Bea was tongue-tied. A Quarter Pounder with Cheese meal was a number three. She could try to eat just one.
The dark horse breathed on her. Do it.
“I can’t hear nothin’ you’re saying,” the attendant said, nastier this time. In this part of town patience was an unheard-of virtue.
“Just … give me a cheeseburger, small fries, and an orange soda.”
“That all?”
No.
Beads of sweat were on her temple. “No.” She looked at the menu again. The saliva in her mouth was thick with want. She swallowed her desperation.
“Give me an apple pie. Make sure it’s warm.”
“We only serve ’em warm. Drive up to the next window.”
Bea took her foot off the gas and floated to the next window. Fumbling in her purse until she produced a twenty-dollar bill, she told herself the apple pie was for the kids. She would put it in their lunchboxes tomorrow.
“That’ll be seven twenty-nine.”
Bea handed over the twenty. When she was on a binge, she always needed thirty dollars. See the positive. It was nice to hand over the twenty and get back change.
“Next window.”
And Then There Was Me Page 5
