Why did they have so many windows?
“Any ketchup with that?”
“Yes, and napkins.” Bea took the drink and sipped it long and strong before placing it into the cup holder. Her hands shook as she reached for her food. The aroma caressed her nose and the bag was warm like home in her lap. She pulled into a space in the parking lot facing Route 1 and watched the cars lick the road. Her throat felt sore. Bea took her first bite out of the burger. The bun was so soft and buttery that she barely had to chew. The mix of meat, cheese, ketchup, and raw onion delighted her, but what she wanted to taste was that thick, sliced pickle.
She opened her mouth, wider this time and got a chunk between her jaws. The vinegary taste made her whole body feel heated and alive. She reached for a handful of fries and licked the salt from each one before cramming them all into her mouth at once. Then she took another bite of burger and let all of the flavors insult her tongue. Ketchup ran from the corner of her mouth as she sipped the sugary soda, glad that she hadn’t settled for water. Each bite erased the self-doubt, numbed the insecurity, empowered her, and curbed the anger she had clung to.
Bea remembered when she loved Lonnie so hard she could barely breathe. Just the thought of him made her sweat. When he worked long hours, she would get the chills and needed to sleep in his clothes, on his side of the bed, until he returned. Now after the affairs and an illegitimate son, she groped around for happiness. Spent more time than she cared to admit fretting, wondering what he was up to. Bea had thought about having an affair of her own to even the score but she wasn’t wired like that. Bea wouldn’t even know where to go to meet a man. The bar scene hadn’t been her thing since college.
A euphoric rush spread between her fingertips and she tilted the bag of fries and dumped the rest into her mouth. She wanted to slow down but she was too wrapped up. The apple pie box pressed open and Bea gobbled it down without really tasting it. When she looked up, there wasn’t a crumb to be found. Her belly pressed against the steering wheel and she felt too full.
Disgust for herself bubbled up like indigestion. She shouldn’t have eaten the pie. She shouldn’t have come to McDonald’s. The need to bring it all up pressed against her shoulders. Bea could pretend like this meal didn’t happen at all. She still had the bag. No one would know. How many months had it been since her last purge? Bea had lost count. That was a good thing, she reasoned with herself. The perspiration was building on her skin. Her head started to spin and she felt dizzy. Before the pregnancy, she would pop a pill that would make the symptoms subside, but her gastroenterologist had told her to stop taking them until after the baby was born. She had recommended natural remedies such as ginger and chamomile tea but that stuff didn’t work as well. Bea felt a tightening in her belly that bordered on pain. She rolled the window down and hung her head out over the side, breathing in the mixture of fast food and motor oil. She reached for the notebook she kept in her purse. Bea found the page and read to calm and steady herself.
1. See yourself as beautiful. Flowering and giving life to the earth. This baby can’t do it without you. You are important.
2. Food is your fuel. You need it in your body. It’s your sustenance.
3. When you feel overwhelmed go for a walk, write down your feelings, or play your favorite songs.
Bea was not about to stroll down Route 1, so she rummaged through her mobile phone for her favorite playlist. “Happy” by Pharrell came on followed by Celia Cruz’s “Mi Bomba Sono.” Her mother used to play Celia Cruz Saturday mornings while preparing for Bea’s father’s visit. Singing along with the music helped distract her and she felt well enough to start the car.
The traffic was easy and by the time she pulled into her driveway, “Oye Como Va” was on by Tito Puente. Her block was dark, quiet, and safe. When she walked into her house she felt well enough. The kids were in bed but the kitchen waited for her. She’d expected that. Lonnie came straight toward her, not waiting for an invitation to touch her. His arms went around her waist.
“I was just about to clean the kitchen but I had a work call that ran long.”
It was a lie but she was supposed to be grateful that he had at least tried to make the effort.
“It’s fine.”
“Did you eat?”
“Yeah.”
“Listen. The earring isn’t what it looks like. I haven’t been with anyone. I swear on my grandmother’s grave.”
That was a new one, Bea thought, sweeping crumbs from the kitchen island into her hand.
“I called Jenna and she said it was hers.”
Jenna was his assistant.
“She actually said she had been looking all over for it. You know she’s a newlywed and has been spacey since she returned from her honeymoon. It must have fallen and caught my shirt.”
Bea looked into his eyes. In spite of having years of practice, she still couldn’t tell when he was lying.
“Okay,” she offered after a beat. “Make sure you give it back to her.”
“I will.” He was visibly relieved. It was almost comical. “Don’t worry about the kitchen, I’ll get it later.” This wasn’t true either but Bea played along. “Come sit on the sofa and relax.”
Bea followed Lonnie into the family room. The television was on. Her favorite orange ginger candles were lit.
“I was going to draw you a bath but I didn’t know if you could still get down in the tub.”
“Funny,” she replied.
Lonnie adjusted the pillows behind her on the sofa and placed her feet in his lap.
“You want to watch Love Jones?”
Bea looked at him with her mouth open. It was her absolute favorite movie. The movie she could recite line by line but he never wanted to watch.
“Are you sure?”
“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” He found the movie on Netflix and played it. As Bea sank into the torrid romance of Darius Lovehall and Nina Mosley, Lonnie kneaded the insteps of her feet, pushing their troubles away.
SIX
Mother Suburb
One of the things that Bea liked about living in Evergreen was the full-day kindergarten at Alana’s school. There was also valet service for pickup and drop-off so she didn’t have to get out of the car.
“Hey, butterbean. Strap in.”
“Did you bring a snack?” Alana leaned over the middle console.
“Hello to you too.” Bea smiled at Alana through her rearview mirror.
“I’m so hungry.”
Bea tossed a bag with cut-up apples over the seat to Alana.
“Apples? Really, Mom?”
“What were you expecting?”
“Something better.”
Bea pulled away from the curb. “That’s what’s available unless you want to wait until you get home.”
Alana pouted on the drive. Chico’s school was around the corner and up the hill. Twice a week he had math enrichment and was released thirty minutes later than usual. When Bea pulled into the parking lot, she could see his bushy hair before his beautiful face. His Miami Heat T-shirt was too small but he insisted on wearing it at least once a week because Lonnie had bought it for him in Miami. The shirt made Bea cringe each time she saw him in it. She made a note to hide it after the next wash. At his old school in D.C. they wore uniforms—which Bea preferred—but that was a mostly minority school, where uniforms were the trend. For the life of her she couldn’t understand why living in a lofty suburb meant that the children didn’t have to worry about the social pressures and the distractions of the latest fad, but in the urban areas the children did.
Bea let Alana out of the car. Chico moved toward them, jumping and throwing a little ball with a redheaded boy. Bea smiled when her son was close enough to see her. Chico was always moving. It made her dizzy. He didn’t acknowledge her as he blew past her with the friend, still playing. A woman with the same red hair approached the car. Bea had never seen her before.
“I’m Marianne.”
“Beatrice.”
“Nice to meet you. All Jack can talk about is Alonzo. I’d like to have him over for a playdate.”
“That sounds good.”
“You can drop him off at our house and I’ll bring him home if that’s easier for you.” Bea looked the mother over. She fit the Evergreen mold pretty well: ponytail, sunglasses, smear of blush, faint pink on her lips, lululemon athletica yoga gear, and a cotton vest.
“How long have you lived in Evergreen?” asked Marianne.
“A few months now. This is our first school year.”
“Where are you from?”
“Elizabeth.”
“No, I meant before that?”
Bea got this question often, especially in Evergreen, and she loathed it. She despised diving into her ethnicity because it felt invasive. What the mom really wanted to know was why did Bea look the way she did, and why did her children.
“I’m Dominican.”
“Both of your parents are Dominican?”
“My father was black and from here.”
“Your husband must be something else, your daughter doesn’t look anything like you.”
“We come in all shades,” Bea said in a tone meant to end the line of questioning.
“Well, the Dominican Republic is lovely. We went last year for a family vacation. Stayed at an all-inclusive with a kids’ camp. Pure heaven.”
Bea smiled politely.
“Here’s my info.” Marianne handed Bea a business card. It read: MARIANNE BRENNAN, MOTHER OF JACK AND JAMES, and listed her telephone number and e-mail address. Bea looked from the card to Marianne.
“It’s more convenient this way. I’ve been doing cards since they were little.”
Bea nodded. “Is this your cell? I’ll text you my information.”
When they got inside the car, Chico’s brows were creased and his cheeks puffed out.
Bea buckled her seat belt. “What’s wrong?”
“Why do you have to do that?”
“Do what?”
“Embarrass me.”
She pulled out of her parking space and merged with the local traffic. “Huh? Embarrass you how?”
“By smiling at me.”
“I embarrassed you by smiling?”
“Yes, don’t smile at me in front of my friends. I’m not a baby like Alana.”
“I’m not a baby,” Alana piped in.
“Yes, you are.”
She shoved him. He pushed back.
“Stop it. Now!”
The two settled into their own corners of the car.
“Still, Mom, don’t, okay?”
Chico stared at Bea through the rearview mirror. He was the same dust color as Bea. Alana’s creaminess was all Lonnie. She’d also inherited his easy-to-comb-through hair, what the girls she grew up with would call “dead hair,” which meant it didn’t need a lot of prodding and pulling to make it lay right.
“Chico, do you have everything you need for homework?”
He didn’t respond.
“Do you?”
He blew his breath. “I keep telling you my name is not Chico. Please, call me Alonzo. It’s on my birth certificate.”
If she had talked to her mother like that when she was his age, she wouldn’t have seen the backhand coming. Just tasted the blood in her mouth from where her upper lip crashed against her teeth from the force of her mother’s smack. She and Lonnie parented the new way: much talking, time-outs, and loss of privileges. Most of the time it didn’t work. When she turned onto Main Street, her phone chimed.
“Did you set up the get-together with Jack?”
“His mom will text me.”
“Is that her now?”
Bea read the text at the red light. It was from Lonnie.
On the train. Be home for dinner.
Her heart swelled.
“I want a playdate too,” cried Alana.
“You’re too little.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are, little baby.”
“Moooom. Tell Chico I’m not a baby.”
“My name is not Chico.”
“Chico, Chico, Chico!” Alana screamed.
“Guys, enough.”
They kept at it as Bea turned into her driveway, her mind going over her menu for dinner.
* * *
The kids completed their homework and had been getting along for five minutes over a game of Connect Four when Lonnie walked in through the back door. He had left that morning before Bea had gotten a chance to lay eyes on him, so when he walked in looking fresh and crisp in a gray woven suit and light blue shirt, it took her breath away.
“You look good.”
“Thanks, babe.” He leaned in and kissed her with his mouth and tongue. “I missed you.”
She blushed. “Me too.”
“What’s for dinner?”
“Asparagus, skirt steak, and roasted rosemary potatoes.”
“Sounds delicious. Will go perfect with these.” He held up a bag from Magnolia Bakery, her favorite bakery in the West Village.
“Honey.”
“Vanilla, your favorite.”
“Thank you.” She kissed him again. Alana ran into the kitchen. She hugged her father and followed him upstairs, chatting his ears off while he changed. Bea called to Chico to help her set the table.
Over dinner, everyone had a chance to discuss their day.
“Can we tell jokes?” asked Chico. “I have a good one. Your mama is so fat that when she walked by the TV, I missed three episodes.”
Bea and Lonnie burst out laughing.
“Finally a good one,” Bea told him.
“My turn. Your mama is so stupid she needs sunglasses to see in the rain.”
“Okay.” Bea laughed at Alana’s joke.
“Dad, your turn.”
“I don’t have any jokes.”
“Come on, Dad.”
Lonnie put a chunk of steak into his mouth and pretended like he couldn’t speak.
“I’ll go,” said Bea. “Fat and Skinny were in the bed. Fat made a fart and Skinny dropped dead.”
The kids laughed so hard that Chico almost knocked over his juice.
“Okay, that’s it for the jokes. Clean up after yourself and go get ready for bed if you want dessert. Dad bought me cupcakes and I don’t mind sharing.”
The kids got up from the table.
“Do I have to take a shower?” Alana asked.
“Yes, a quick one.”
“Aw, man.”
Bea pulled her over and whispered in her ear. “You can take one in our bathroom to make it faster.”
The baby had started kicking and Bea rubbed her stomach to try to soothe her. Alana smiled and ran away.
Lonnie lingered at the table.
“We got a letter from Connie.” She paused and watched his reaction. He looked at her, his eyes steady. “She wants to send him to private school because of the neighborhood. Asking you—us—to pay for it.”
“What do you think?”
Bea had only been able to go to her private high school because her father had paid for it. Education was the least they could do.
“I’m fine with it. I took a look at the brochure and worked out the monthly numbers. It’s doable.”
“Whatever you think is best, babe. You’re the boss there.”
That’s right, Bea thought as she stood and cleared off the table.
“What we need to be discussing are the details for your birthday party. It’s coming up.”
“I don’t want a party in my condition. Too much hassle.” She picked up their stacked dinner plates.
“I’ll get this. Why don’t you go relax?”
Bea smiled. “I better go check on Alana before she floods our bathroom.”
Lonnie squeezed her behind as she walked by.
“Don’t start nothing.” She looked back at him.
“What time do the kids go to bed?”
“In an hour.”
“Good, let’s take a bath.”
“Really?”
“You said you can get in the tub. I want to be close to you.” His eyes kissed her skin.
“Okay.” She blushed.
* * *
Bea got the kids into bed while Lonnie set up the bath. The feature that sold Bea on the house was the two-person Jacuzzi tub in the master bath. She didn’t bathe often in it but she liked having the option when she wanted to soak.
“I’m going to need some help getting in,” Bea said. Lonnie held her hand and helped her in. Bea sank into the sudsy water feeling her body sigh.
“I really should be doing this more, especially now at the end of the pregnancy.”
Lonnie’s phone was connected to the portable speakers and love songs from the 90s crooned.
“I used to love this song,” Lonnie said. It was “Vision of Love” by Mariah Carey.
“Me too. What’s happening with Mariah? Is she bouncing back from the divorce?”
“She was just in the news for canceling her concert at the last minute at Caesars in Vegas.”
“Why?”
“Claimed to have bronchitis. Folks were pissed.”
“Yeah, I would have been too. I know the tickets cost an arm and a leg.”
“We should go out to Vegas once the baby is born. Leave the kids with your mom for a few days.”
Bea sank deeper in the tub, letting the bubbles pool around her neck. “I’d be up for that. Long as the weather is warm. Last time we went we couldn’t even use the outside pool.”
“I hate that I have to leave you tomorrow for Chicago.”
She brought her knees up out of the water. “You could give a little more notice.”
“I just found out this morning. Been meaning to text you all day.”
“For how long?”
“I think it’s just overnight. What do you want to do this weekend?”
“I was thinking we could go to the Brooklyn Museum to see Kehinde Wiley’s exhibit.”
“Who’s that?”
“You know, the artist that I like that used to have his work at the Studio Museum in Harlem. He does the pictures with the black folks in European portraiture.”
“Oh, yeah, him,” Lonnie said, and then he was on her.
Kissing her, caressing her, and sucking on her ear. The heat from his body and the warmth of the water enraptured Bea. She turned her brain off, quieted her worries, and allowed him to take her to that place where they connected. He was her husband.
And Then There Was Me Page 6
