by Nicety
“Thanks. Uh, do I know you?”
“Nope. I just saw you sprawled out on the side of the highway. So, I got out to check on ya. Sure enough, you were still kicking. I just brought you on in to the one place I knew would take you in with no bills.” Her thin body wiggled in the chair, happy at her good deed.
This woman was tiny. She couldn't have been any bigger than a twelve year old athletic child, trapped inside of an over forty body. She was brown skinned with tiny freckles on top of her cheeks. Her hair was low in a buzz cut. Her bright pink nails were about two inches longer than normal. She adorned a bright pink polyester jogging suit with matching Air Force Ones. I began to wonder where the hell she could've been leaving or going to be dressed like that in the middle of the night. Turning towards the window, I was baffled by the sight of daylight. Time was lost upon me. I couldn't account for the lost hours at all.
“Where are we?”
“Provident Hospital. You know it’s just like the County and they ain’t gon’ charge you a thing. That don’t mean you ain’t gon’ have to wait forever and a day to be seen, though. We’ve been here since 2am and it’s going on 9am now. Bet you’re glad you’re not in serious condition, else you’d be dead by now,” she snickered. “I’m Bridgette.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I scoffed. “Listen, Bridgette, I’m going to go now. You can sit here if you want but I’m going to find my way.” As soon as I stood, I immediately felt dizzy. It was as if they had decided to stomp me to death with their king sized boots, rather than use another cop issued bullet that would link back to them. Apart of me wished they had taken the low road and done so. "Aye, did you find a little girl lying next to me?"
"Huh? No. No there was no one around you but a few vermin looking for a snack," she chuckled. "That was a joke, honey."
"Hmm." I stumbled off, grumbling through my displeasure of her failed attempt at humor.
“Well what about your head?” She questioned as I headed towards the sliding emergency room exit.
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” I didn’t even bother to turn back. “Thanks, again.”
“Oh wait, wait. I’m coming with. Maybe I could drop you off someplace.” She waddled up behind me, grabbing hold of my right elbow.
My jeans felt like they were glued to me with all of the mud stuck to them. My checkered blue Burberry button down clung to my skin like it was nearly painted on. I was shivering slightly but there wasn’t shit I could do about it. What she didn’t know was that I needed a place to crash. I watched my house go up in large flames, so I knew there was nothing left. Not even the $500,000 I had buried in the back of my closet inside of a Jordan’s shoe box, so no one would suspect it if they went snooping around. Naw, all my shit was gone. I was destitute. So whatever she had at her house for me to wear I was going to accept, no hesitations. If Bridgette wanted to chauffeur me around, then she was a Godsend. I was broke and was in dire need of the help. I needed some time to think, long enough to figure out how to face Sunshine’s grandparents with the news that our baby was gone.
“Bridgette, you think we could stop by your spot for a minute? I need to clean up and get my shit together.”
“Hmm. I guess so. Just as long as you’re no Happy Face Killer or some crap like that.” Her smirk turned serious in a heart beat.
“Naw, none of that baby girl. I appreciate it though. I’m Shine, by the way.”
“Shine? Eh, guess your momma had fun with that one. Didn’t she?”
“My momma’s been dead for a long time. Died when I was just a shorty. Never really knew my dad either. Son of a bitch left us. Been a ward of the state for as long as I could remember.” I stuck my hands down in my filthy jeans pockets.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Bridgette bowed her head as if to give a moment of respectful silence. “Well, com’ on. My car’s right over here.”
"I owe you my life, girl. Thank you, Bridgette."
"Awe, don't go getting mushy on me now." She winked.
I shook my head and for the first time since last night, I smiled. She may well have been my angel, even if she didn’t know it. I was damn appreciative of her. “You’re pretty cool, Bridgette. Pretty damn cool.”
“You aren’t so bad yourself, Mr. Shine.” She winked at me again, as she thumbed the unlock button on her keychain, pointing to her 1990 all white clean box Chevy Caprice.
Three
Monday, August 29th, 2011
Aftershock
Bonnie
The funeral last Saturday still plagued my mind. I didn’t even bother crying as the pastor preached about his wondrous life and great contributions to the community. I couldn't even bring myself to shed a tear, as they lowered him into the ground at the burial. For what? He was an ass to me. The hurt he delivered to me, to my heart, was more painful than anything I had ever felt. The fact that he threw up, in my face, that he had a “son” on the way, shattered my heart to pieces. His actions seemed intentional and rehearsed; his body language and tone was a dead giveaway. And, besides, he was going to leave me for that bitch and put me out of his car on the night of my birthday. I had no doubt in my mind that would have left me for dead, probably after he’d beat me into a pulp. Somebody was set to die that night. I just thanked God that it wasn’t me. Cry, for what? He wasn’t worth the tears.
"How have you been feeling?" My mom asked handing me a steaming hot white mug of green tea.
"Fine, mom."
“The doctors said you hit your head pretty hard the other night. I just want to make sure you’re feeling all right. I couldn’t imagine what you must be going through, seeing something like that.” She shook her head and puckered her lips, as she set the tray of tea on the glass coffee table.
“Stop worrying mom, okay? I’m fine. My fall really wasn’t that bad.”
"You don't look fine. I know that ever since your father died last year, you've found it hard to talk to me. He was your best friend and I get that. But you can always come to me, Honey B." Her tone was delicate.
All of my life she had treated me like a gentle flower, fragile to the touch. I hated it. One might say that I loathed it. My dad never did that. He respected me once I became old enough to speak and treated me as an individual, never sugar coating anything. He never pacified my feelings either. It made me respect and love him even more. He was a strong tall, dark, and handsome black man. The finest I had ever seen. The day he had the heart attack was the day my life changed forever. No one was even there to help him. When mom and I came in from the grocery store, he was already dead on the living room floor. He had passed waste in his blue jean overalls and his eyes were bulged from the pain he endured during. He was only sixty-two years old.
They were married for forty years. My mother, Cierra, was a tall Italian beauty who was aging beautifully. Her dark eyes and hair coupled with her tanned skin, could have won her any Miss America pageant that she entered. My grandparents brought her here when she was sixteen and started the family business, a chain of cleaners. The millions of dollars a year empire my family built, was what has kept us afloat for so long and put me through college. No, I didn’t have to work, but I loved it. It kept me grounded. My mom loved my brown skin and the fact that I had mostly my father’s features. She insisted that I came from the Kings and Queens of Egypt in Africa. She indicated that when the Africans were brought here to be enslaved, they slowly forgot their heritage and where they came from. What my mother neglected to tell me was the heritage of the other half of me, since clearly I’m wasn’t completely African American with my biracial skin and hair.
“Mom, I’m fine okay? I just want to get this over with. Is the man coming or not?” I huffed, sipping my tea.
“He indicated he’d be here any minute now.” She sat next to me rubbing my shoulders for comfort. “Do you know what you’ll do with all that money?”
“Not really. I imagined, I would take an extended vacation, sell this house and buy smaller place like a condo. Then probably go back t
o work and get my life back on track.”
I thought about all the things I could do with $100 million dollars. I could wipe my ass with hundred dollar bills for the rest of my life if I chose to. The point was that no one would be able to tell me what to do any longer. I was free, finally free to do what I wanted when I wanted and there wasn’t a damn thing anybody could say or do about it. All of my stress was gone as well as my sleepless nights. I loved my husband to the core of my being, but he didn’t love me. His love for me a fizzled and died over the years while my heart burned eternally for him, but now it was truly over. I felt like it was God’s way of giving me a new lease on life. Good riddance. I damn near burned my lip at the sound of the doorbell gong.
My feet couldn’t move fast enough, as I ran down the long hallway to the front door. “Hello. Come on in.”
“Hello, Mrs. Allen. Sorry I am late. I had another stop to make before this one,” Mr. Pope blustered, as he waltzed past me into the living room.
“Mr. Pope, you know my mother,” I introduced as we all took a seat.
My mother sat next to me, grabbing my hand and squeezing tightly. I think she was more anxious than I was. Mr. Pope fumbled to open his modest sized black briefcase, shifting through papers. We looked on as the man began perspiring all in a matter of seconds. Even he was anxious to be handing me a check of that caliber. It was probably more money than he as ever held in his entire career. As I waited, I couldn’t help but to silently thank Major for blessing me with this amount of comfort. He was an asshole, even in his last moments, but he was my asshole and I loved him beyond measure.
The way he stared down at the paperwork, made me jealous that he had the first look at the money before I did. “Um, can I see that too?”
“I know right.” My mother looked over at me as we laughed together.
“Mrs. Allen, I know you are Major’s wife but…I regret to inform you that your husband changed the policy approximately four months ago.” He began trembling and rummaging through papers some more.
“I-I’m sorry what do you mean? He lowered the amount?” I asked, turning to my mother watching her frantically light a Newport.
“Um, no. He actually changed the policy beneficiary from your name to a Ms. Jessica Steel.” Mr. Pope’s voice became shaky. “It appears that she is the rightful owner of your husband’s life insurance payout. As the overseer of his last will and testament, I’ve been instructed to award you whatever was left in his private bank account at the time of his death.”
“Okay. And, how much is that?”
“$20.”
“I’m sorry,” my heart skipped a beat and my bowels moved through me like I was about to shit my panties. “Did you say $20? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”
“I’m sorry. I was just ordered to do what the will specifies. You did sign a prenup as well, so you do know that you aren’t entitled to anything if you didn’t keep up with your end of the agreement.” Mr. Pope handed me a slew of papers, much of which I already possessed. They were copies of the prenup coupled with a copy of the will that stated how much I would receive, nothing.
“Agreement?” my mother exclaimed. “What damn agreement?” she turned to me and asked.
“Well,” Mr. Pope interjected, “according to the prenuptial agreement, in order for Mrs. Allen to be entitled to any of Mr. Allen’s royalties she would have had to bear him at least one son. Since that never happened, she has no entitlement to anything.” he emphasized with a bit too much attitude for my liking.
“Well, surely there’s something in there that gives my daughter something. I mean, she put in 4 years of marriage with this man.” My mother debated.
“No, sorry ma’am, she is to get nothing.” He noted staring at my mother as if he was tired of her doing all the talking. “In addition Mrs. Allen, it also states that you must also vacate the premises within 24 hours of receipt of your signature on this document. This house has also been left to Ms. Steel.”
That was the icing on the cake. My mind wanted to believe that this was all a dream. I needed to know that this was some terrible nightmare that I would soon be shaken awake from. But the horrid smell of my mother’s cancer stick led me to believe that the shake would never come. Major controlled everything I did in life. He was the breadwinner, the bill payer, the decision maker, and he always had the final say. He was damn near my judge, jury, and executioner for the last four years. Now, even in death, he would keep the upper hand. Even though he was no longer physically present, I still felt that he was controlling me from beyond the grave.
“Mr. Pope, my husband was a very domineering man. He had his hand weighing on my back for our entire marriage. Now, I’m going to ask you, is there anything that I can do to get anything to be able to live off of?” My knee bounced, shaking nervously.
He sighed, “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Allen. But because she’s pregnant, everything goes to her. You could go to court and contest the will, but you signed the papers and knew the regulations. And, because he has no other living relatives, there is no one who could vouch for you in his favor.”
“Oh that is all bullshit!” My mother blurted.
She rarely cursed. I didn’t even have the energy to look at her sideways for her twisted words. My heart was beyond torn from the scandalous way my husband had treated me. I had been nothing but a good woman to him; cooking and cleaning and picking up after him. I handled his shit when he was too lazy to. I held him down when he was sick or depressed. And, this was the thanks I was getting. A kick in the ass and a bump on the street. What the fuck had I done to deserve any of this? The anger growing inside of me was beyond livid. It was rage.
“Calm down, mom.” My poor attempt to console her, went unnoticed. “Please Mr. Pope, I have a great deal of work to do. Are we done here?”
“Oh. Oh yes, of course,” He rambled as we stood up together. “If there is anything else I could do for you, here is my card.”
“Sir, you keep your card. Thank you.”
It was cold I knew, but I was in no mood to be any more cordial than I already was. Apparently, I had some fucking unwanted packing to do. I only had $5000 in the bank saved up and a $20 check in my hand. It was all I had to my name. The only place I had to go was back to the city, to my mom’s house. Thanks to Major’s hand on my back, I never had any lasting friendships to ask a friend for help. My mother lived near Beverly, though, in a nice two story home and the area wasn’t that bad at all. But the fact remained, I was a broke grown ass woman moving back in with her mother. Tomorrow would for sure be a job hunting day, because being under the same roof with her too long was not going to cut it.
“Ugh, mom, can I move into the old hou—“
“No need to even ask, Honey B. I'll start getting you packed,” She sighed as she drowned her cigarette out in her half drunken cup of tea, and headed upstairs without another word.
I looked up at the mantle, staring back at all of the wedding photos piercing a hole through my soul. There had to at least be twenty of them, sitting there displaying a false happy marriage. I was so beautiful and blissfully happy that day. His expression read that of a man who couldn't live without me. However, I was the widow of a man who had left everything to his pregnant whore mistress. Meanwhile, I was left destitute, like I was scum on the bottom of the toilet; the kind that wouldn't come off with anything but bleach. As my anger built, all I could think about was how was I going to pack some of his shit and get it out of here with me. This shit was all worth something and I’d be damned if that bitch got everything.
Four
Twenty Minutes Later
Gratitude
Shine
The ride was somber and quiet. Driving from Bridgette's place in New Bronzeville to the hardened streets of inner city Englewood, wasn’t that far but the scenery sure did change. I couldn’t even bring myself to turn in her direction, feeling the heat emanating from her seat. She had begged me before we left, not to go. She wanted me to l
ive comfortably up under her, but that just was not going to happen. I thought I had made that clear last night when she tried to seduce me. For an older woman, she had a body built like a college athlete. It was remarkable in every way. But my dick didn't even jump and if it wasn't feeling it, I wasn't going. Besides, sex was the farthest thing from my mind.
In no time, she turned the corner of 63rd and Green. The block was lit with niggas on their posts, serving that work to every clucker that came skating by on their holey dirty Pro Wings. It had to have been a brisk thirty degrees outside, but these fools were out here getting money. Bridgette looked around nervously, hoping nobody came up to the car. The hood was grimy but it wasn't so bad. She had been gone so long that she was now terrified of it.
“Is this it?” She asked almost meekly.
“Yeah. You can pull up right here. I’ll find my way from here,” I answered pointing to the two flat brownstones on her side of the street. “Thanks…for everything.”
“Hey, um. You know we should really get together soon to go over your case. Since I don’t have a number on you, make sure you call me. Okay?” Her voice grew somber, as she gazed out at the small papers of garbage. It casually blew through the empty lot on the other side of the street. "I told you I'm a retired paralegal. Maybe, I could help you catch the guys who did this to you."
I nodded and lied. “I will." It was sweet that she was offering, but the kind of justice I sought after no law would approve of. "Thanks for dropping me off, Bridgette. Matter of fact, thanks for even putting up with a nigga all weekend. You really showed love to a stranger. You have a beautiful home."
"Well, you've had a hard weekend. I couldn't very well leave you out on the street like that. Plus, I could've used the company. I'm usually very lonely." Bridgette checked her rearview mirror for lipstick on her teeth. "So, you've got my number, right?"
