Lundyn Bridges

by Patrice Johnson

  I spent the Fourth of July weekend in 2005 with Jamel and his family in Montclair, New Jersey. It was a much needed respite, and I welcomed the tranquility of his mother's home. Jamel had told her about Kiarra, and one evening when she and I were sitting on the patio she told me her story. Then she told me the hardest part was coming – the road back would be an uphill struggle for Kiarra, and her success would depend on the love of those around her. I thanked her for her candidness.

  Mom and Dad Woodard met me at Kennedy Airport the following Tuesday afternoon. We boarded our flight to Athens, Greece and arrived on Wednesday morning. The travel was grueling but easy to forget after landing in such a beautiful city. The airport, which is in Sparta, is about forty minutes from Athens. Kristen and Larry detoured through downtown Athens and I marveled at the ethnicity of the city. We then took the ferry to Syros, the island Kristen and Larry called home. I spent most of my time on the beach – it was beautiful and awe-inspiring. Jamel needed to experience this, too. Words were inadequate to describe the ancient ruins, Panathenaikos Stadium, and the National Gardens of Athens. These were all things that should be experienced at least once in a life time.

  As I was sitting on the beach, during the last day of my visit, I considered how God had blessed me. In spite of my beginning, I was sitting on the beach in Greece trying to find the words to thank God for His favor. I finished my postcards to Jamel, Romen, Afreeka, Rah'Lee and Kiarra, realizing I would get home before they arrived.

  After two weeks, I returned to my life in Pittsburgh. Jamel and I talked until almost four in the morning about Greece, my life and my dreams. Then he told me about his job.

  "I've accepted a position." He stroked my hair and kissed me on the cheek.

  "Where?"

  "Baltimore."

  "Maryland?"

  "Uh huh."

  I knew he could tell I was smiling. "Doing what?"

  "Director of the Baltimore City Health Department."

  At seven that morning we were still on the couch, and Jamel called off. We slept until almost two that afternoon and then spent the day talking and watching movies. I admitted to him, and myself, that I knew my unemployment wouldn't last forever and I needed to find a job. Although I remained ambivalent about leaving Pittsburgh, Baltimore was an option for relocation. Not just because Jamel was going to be there, but it would also allow me to be with Afreeka and Rah'Lee.

  Kiarra's advocate from Women's Center and Shelter had given me a lead about a position in their Baltimore office. I mailed my resume, hoping it wasn't too late. Later that evening I called Mom and Dad Woodard and told them about my plans. They were ecstatic I had made some decisions about what I was going to do next.

  "You stagnated for a minute," Pop Woodard chided me. "I thought you were going to force me to make a trip to Pittsburgh to get you moving again."

  Then, as he always did, he told me he was really proud of me and encouraged me to continue believing in myself.

  There was a time when I thought that was impossible, but now I knew he was right.

  At the beginning of August, after two interviews, I accepted the Social Services Coordinator position. I would be responsible for connecting the women with necessary services to relocate within the Women's Center and Shelter Network across the county. Jamel and I celebrated at Palomino's Restaurant. He was leaving at the end of the week, and I would be joining him in Baltimore at the end of the month. Although my position didn't begin until September, I wanted to get acclimated – and my lease was up.

  Afreeka extended the invitation to live with her, and even though she only had one bedroom I thought that would be good for both of us. It would give us the opportunity to reconnect, and I would have unlimited opportunities to tell her about the Jesus who made such a difference in my life. Our plan was to find a two bedroom townhouse by the time her lease was up in November.

  I called Romen and made plans to spend the weekend with his family. I wanted to tell him about my plans in person. Then I called Kiarra and told her the news. She was doing well and was contemplating returning to school to be an elementary school teacher. I left the invitation open to join me in Baltimore.

  My last call was to Rah'Lee. Although she was going to be living on campus, we would be able to visit regularly. We made plans to spend a weekend together before she left for Georgetown.

  Chapter 9

  When I arrived on Saturday afternoon, Romen was preparing lunch. He said he needed something to do while he waited for me because he missed Ray Ray. This was the first morning he didn’t have breakfast with his son since he was born. Nina and Ray Ray were visiting her college roommate who was now living in Columbus, Ohio.

  Romen was unusually solemn when I told him I was relocating to Baltimore to be closer to Afreeka and Rah'Lee.

  "You've got Nina and the baby," I smiled at him. "Afreeka needs me."

  "I know she does, but I'll miss you."

  My big brother and I stared at each from across the table. I saw a myriad of emotions in his eyes, which gave admission to his vulnerability.

  "We never would have made it without you," I said taking hold of his hand. "You were strong for all of us when we didn't know how to be. We relied on you."

  "You were always strong Lundyn. You just didn't realize your own strength."

  "I learned from the best."

  For the first time in seventeen years, since that social worker took the twins away from him, I saw Romen weep. I got up and hugged my brother. I hugged him hard, trying, as I always did, to absorb some of his pain.

  "I never should have let them go," he sobbed as I held him. "I should have held them tighter. I should have refused to let go."

  I let him talk out the pain he had concealed for years.

  "Can I pray with you?" I whispered in his ear.

  He nodded.

  I prayed a prayer of deliverance for my brother. I asked God to open his heart and heal his anguish. I wanted Romen to know God had protected him, too. I wanted Romen to let go of his pain and not blame himself for Hustin's death. I needed him to know he had done phenomenally well in making sure we all made it.

  We talked about our family – the regrets and the promises we held onto while growing up. The hardest part for Romen was not having role models and having to figure out things for himself. He confessed to bearing scars from not having a dad, and it frightened him that he might miss something with his own son. He knew all too well the things to avoid, but all that he desired to give his son was based on everything he wished for as a child. This fueled his determination to be a good husband and father. He remembered too vividly the many men who went in and out of Barbara's life. There were a few pictures to prove Stanley stayed around until Afreeka was born and that was the only reason Romen believed he was also his father.

  "One day when I was about six or seven, he hugged me and gave me five dollars. He was at the house when I came home from school. I wasn’t sure who he was and never saw him after that." Romen bit his sandwich and chewed slowly – digesting the food and the memory. "After he left, Barbara got drunk with her friends and played cards all night. One of her friends made Spaghetti O’s for me and Afreeka."

  Romen's memories were more vivid than Afreeka’s and mine. He had seen the best and the worst of Barbara. There were some boyfriends he liked more than others simply because Barbara was more attentive in their presence. The drug dealers never stayed long – in spite of the money they freely gave, Romen was always afraid of them.

  We agreed life had been difficult. I shared my feelings of guilt for being so blessed by the Woodard's. Then I told my brother that Afreeka had seen Barbara in Point State Park – dirty, dying and begging. It was a picture she couldn't shake and maybe a glimpse of things to come.

  "Lundyn, I want you to be happy." Romen took my hand. "You deserve more happiness than you could ever imagine. Don't ever feel guilty about what the Woodard's gave you."

  "I just wish it was all of us, together."


  "That would have been nice – but it didn't happen that way. For whatever reason, we were separated. I'll never understand it."

  My brother was fighting back tears, and I squeezed his hand. "Don't be angry, Romen. I want you to be happy, too."

  "Promise me you'll never live unhappy."

  "I promise."

  "No. Seriously Lundyn. I don't want you to be unhappy. If it gets to be too much living with Afreeka, I want you to leave. If it doesn't work out with Jamel, don't stay. All we have left is the rest of our lives, and it needs to be filled with happiness. Do you understand?"

  My big brother digressed and was speaking to me as if I was eight years-old, but I didn't mind – I knew it was because he really loved me. I loved him more than he would ever know.

  "I understand," I told him. "When life starts hurting, I'll call you."

  "You better!"

  I cried in my brother's arms and prayed he would find release from the pain in his heart. I prayed for his salvation because only Jesus sets the captive free.

  The Bridges children had survived childhood, but now we all needed to be whole. I took that on as my obligation to my siblings. I would make sure they were introduced to Jesus, the one who made such a difference in my life.

  After settling in Afreeka's apartment, I seized every opportunity to talk about her sobriety. My initial plan was to sleep on the couch, but Afreeka and I sat on her bed talking each night until we fell asleep.

  "I don't know how I got to this point," she confessed one evening over popcorn. "At first I was having fun with my friends, enjoying happy hour, and then I was buying bottles of Hennessy. I don't remember when it got like this."

  "Say it, Afreeka. It's okay to say it."

  Afreeka sighed. "I don't want to be an alcoholic."

  "You don't have to be," I said holding her hand. "You can decide not be an alcoholic. Just say it."

  "I don't want to be like Barbara. I hate her."

  "Don't put it all on Barbara," I whispered. "Make it personal. What does Afreeka want?"

  My sister sobbed. "I want to be happy. I want to be loved. I want the nightmares to go away. I don't want to be alone."

  Afreeka agreed to seek help through the Employee Assistance Program at US Air. I asked for her honesty and promised to be there for her.

  The following Saturday we met Jamel at the Harbor for lunch, and then Afreeka took us on a tour. The Blacks in Wax Museum was our final stop. The experience was sublime. It forced me to put things into perspective. I hadn't really experienced suffering and my journey was miniscule in comparison to that of my ancestors.

  After visiting a few churches, Jamel was a consistent visitor at a non-denominational fellowship in Silver Spring, Maryland. He invited Afreeka to join us on Sunday but she declined with a promise to visit with us in the future. Jamel squeezed my hand. That was my cue not to push her.

  On Sunday afternoon, Jamel and I drove to Gaithersburg to have dinner with Rah'Lee and her parents. It was my first opportunity to meet Mr. & Mrs. Teague's – when I was a child we had no contact. I only knew them as the people who took the twins away and wanted to meet them as the people who gave the twins a family. There was no anger, although a part of me would always wonder why they wouldn't let us maintain contact.

  We watched videos and looked through scrap books and photo albums. It was a glimpse of Hustin and Rah'Lee's life. Mrs. Teague gave me a memorial photo album of Hustin. I was grateful to the Teague's for sharing the memories and allowing Rah'Lee to reconnect with us.

  It was almost midnight when Jamel dropped me off. When I walked in the door, the aroma of alcohol greeted me. Afreeka was on the couch drunk. There were five bottles of liquor lined up on the kitchen counter.

  "I drank 'em all," Afreeka slurred. "Now it's all gone, and there's no more. I can't drink nothing else."

  There was nothing to say. I put my sister to bed and called Romen. Afreeka needed a treatment program, and Romen and I agreed my task for the morning would be to convince her to sign herself in. Then I called Jamel. He volunteered to come over but I knew he had to work in the morning. I just needed to talk, and we planned to meet when he got home from work.

  On Wednesday, September 10, 2005, Afreeka entered Ruth's House treatment facility for women in Columbia, Maryland. She remained there for twenty-one days.

  Romen and Nina joined us in Baltimore to welcome Afreeka home. Rah'Lee prepared dinner at our apartment, while Jamel and I picked up Afreeka in Columbia. She was initially embarrassed but happy we had gathered on her behalf. As a part of her follow-up, Afreeka was required to attend AA meetings. Her sponsor recommended the Daniel Ministry at the Zion Baptist Church in Baltimore. Their motto was 'God delivered Daniel from the lion's den, and He will deliver you'. The group met every Sunday after service and then on Wednesday before Prayer Meeting. Afreeka was resistant but joined because it was part of the program. Jamel and I agreed to attend Zion Baptist with her.

  We were all invested in the process of Afreeka's healing. There was no judgment, only hopes and prayers. One evening, after we returned from Prayer Meeting, Afreeka thanked me.

  "I'm glad you're here," she said as we watched television. "I'm glad you push and you don't give up."

  "That's what sister's are for."

  "You were always strong, Lundyn."

  Romen had said those same words to me. "I never thought so," I told her.

  "We all saw it in you." She paused. "I'm just like Barbara."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I understand her. See, I'm figuring this thing out. I think Barbara had dreams, just like me, but it seems easier to give up on your dreams than to fight for them."

  I muted the television and faced my sister on the couch. "I don't understand."

  "It's about thinking you have to meet the expectations of other people so your dreams can come true. When it doesn't happen, then your dream becomes easier to dismiss. Barbara had dreams and she wanted things like her friends, but they were poor; so she went out with guys who could buy her those things. Then she had Romen. Then there were more guys; then she had me; then you and then the twins. The dream gets further and further away, until it's nothing more than just a wish – so distant that it's not worth fighting for."

  "What were your dreams?' I asked her.

  "I wanted to be smart like Romen. I wanted Barbara to love me and pay attention to me. I wanted to help Romen with you guys, but by that time I was angry and didn't care. I wanted to stay with you at the Woodard's. I wanted a lot."

  "Don't give up," I said holding her hand. "Promise me you won't give up."

  Kiarra and I were talking on the phone at least four times a week. She was recuperating from her internal injuries and contemplating signing up for Teach for America. They were waiting on a trial date and Xavier was still in jail in Pittsburgh. My best friend seemed to be recovering and apologized numerous times for her behavior. She also continued to thank me for sticking with her through the madness. It was more than worth it, if she finally realized Xavier was a monster. I continued to pray for her strength to testify against him whenever the trial was scheduled and volunteered to meet her in Pittsburgh.

  Jamel and I met Kiarra in New York City on the Saturday before Columbus Day. I loved New York but couldn't imagine living in such a huge city. We rode the ferry to Ellis Island, took pictures at the Statue of Liberty, ate lunch in the World Financial Center, viewed Manhattan from the top of the Empire State Building, went to the Schomberg and concluded the afternoon with dinner at Sylvia’s in Harlem. Everything moved so quickly and even the people seemed to always be in a hurry. I cherished every minute and enjoyed the day we spent together. It was also good seeing Kiarra smile. I hugged her hard, and long, before she caught the bus to Riverdale. To finish off our evening, Jamel and I saw Beauty and the Beast on Broadway before returning to his mother's home in New Jersey.

  At the end of October 2005, Rah'Lee began spending the last weekend of the month with Afreeka and I for sis
ter time. We were so much alike, yet so different. We didn't exactly look alike, but we shared common features. We all loved basketball and hated peanut butter. Afreeka liked to dress up, Rah'Lee and I preferred wearing jeans. Getting our hair done was important to all of us. Rah'Lee and Hustin had been as close as Afreeka and I were to Romen. We loved having a brother. We talked about being together for Christmas and made plans to gather in Baltimore. At Rah’Lee’s request, we agreed to have Christmas dinner with the Teague's. Romen and Nina agreed to join us. Although we were no longer children, my dream of family was coming true.

  Mom and Dad Woodard continued to be encouraging, and they were happy I was finally realizing the blessings in my life. Although Jamel and I initially planned to join them for Christmas, they understood when I told them of our plans in Baltimore. Kristen and Larry were planning to visit in April, and I promised to join them in Naples.

  Rah'Lee and I intensified the search for our maternal grandmother, and on November 7, 2005 we were sure we found her. Phyllis Z. Bridges was listed in the phone book on Valley View Drive in Monroeville, Pennsylvania. The last address we had for our grandmother had been in Clairton, Pennsylvania, but how many Phyllis Bridges could have the middle name Zora? It had to be her.

  After many discussions and much prayer, and against Romen's wishes, my sisters and I contacted Phyllis Bridges by letter. A week later I received a return letter and a phone number. I called my siblings and then called her. We arranged to meet in Pittsburgh the weekend before Thanksgiving. Romen agreed to do it, just for us.

  My sisters and I drove to Pittsburgh and arrived at the home of Phyllis Bridges around three o'clock on Saturday afternoon. She was standing on her front porch and began to cry when we pulled into the driveway. She was accompanied by another woman who she introduced as our Aunt Saundra. Romen arrived alone forty-five minutes later. The drive was too much for Nina, who was seven months pregnant with twins.