Envy

by Victoria Christopher Murray

“Hey,” I whispered as I pressed the phone against my ear, then rushed into the bathroom to grab my bathrobe. “What’s up?”

  “I’m sorry,” Regan said. “I know it’s early out there.”

  “No, it’s all right.” I stepped outside the bedroom. “I was getting up anyway.” I scurried down the hallway, peeked inside Bella’s room, then closed the door when I saw that my daughter looked like she still had a few more hours of sleep in her.

  “Liar,” my best friend said. “No way you were getting up.”

  I held in my laughter and excitement as I trotted down the staircase. “Okay, so I wasn’t even awake, but I sure was waiting for you. Did you speak to Keisha? Is she okay? Is she coming back with you?” I settled onto the sofa in the living room.

  Regan blew a long breath through the phone. “I can answer every question with one word—yeah. She called a little while ago. She’s coming to Los Angeles.”

  I shrieked, then put my hand over my mouth, not wanting to wake Mauricio or Bella. “Oh my God. I can’t believe it.”

  “I told you she was going to do it.”

  “I know, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

  “Speaking of hopes . . .” She stopped.

  “What?” I frowned. Was there a wrench in this already?

  “I don’t know.”

  The way my friend said those three words made me sigh. “Are you still concerned about that name thing?”

  “It wasn’t just a thing. It was something.”

  “Whatever it was, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s my sister.”

  “Yeah, but . . . how did she know your name?”

  She sounded as if she were agonized by that question. “Really, Regan? What does it matter?” When Regan didn’t say anything, I added, “Don’t be the lawyer right now; don’t be my business partner. All I need is my best friend.”

  “And as your friend I have some concerns.”

  I rolled my eyes. Regan was one steadfast chick.

  She said, “Like the fact that Keisha just lied to me about where she lived.”

  “How do you know that?” I frowned. “I thought you didn’t have an address for her.”

  “I don’t. I could never find anything because the place where she used to live, the woman there told me that Keisha snuck out in the middle of the night, owing three months’ rent.”

  “Well, I’m sure she and her mom didn’t have it easy,” I said, wanting to defend . . . my sister.

  “Fine. I’ll give her that. But then why did she just tell me that she and her mother lived just five minutes away from my hotel? The place that I found, the lady I spoke to—that’s way more than five minutes from here.”

  “Maybe she’s living with a friend.”

  “She said she’d lived there with her mother.”

  “Maybe she misspoke. You’re making such a big deal out of a couple of little things.”

  Regan sighed—no, actually, she moaned, and I heard her judgment in that sound. “And what I’ve learned about a couple of little things is that they lead to serious situations.”

  Before I could ask her what the heck she was talking about, I heard some kind of banging. “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Hold on, someone’s at my door.” There were a couple of seconds of silence and then Regan whispered, “Ugh, I told her to give me thirty.”

  I sat up straight. “Who? Keisha? Is she there with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, let her in,” I said, raising my voice a bit.

  I pressed the phone closer to my ear as if that would help me hear better, maybe even help me to get a visual. And then Regan’s voice, “Hey, you’re . . . early . . .”

  “No,” I whispered. Why was Regan saying that? I didn’t want Keisha to feel unwelcome in any way. I needed to get my best friend straight about this.

  And then, for the very first time, I heard my sister’s voice. “Yeah, I’m sorry, it was just that I was so close. I can go back downstairs.”

  I didn’t move. I didn’t want to miss a syllable that she spoke.

  Regan said, “No, come on in.”

  I closed my eyes and thanked God and Regan.

  Then, “I’m talking to Gabrielle now. Here . . .”

  In the couple of seconds between Regan’s voice and Keisha’s, my eyes widened, and I sprang up from the sofa. I wasn’t ready . . .

  “Yeah?” her voice sang into my ear.

  “Keisha?”

  “Yeah?”

  “This is Gabrielle,” I said, telling her what she already knew, but I didn’t know what else to say.

  “Uh . . . yeah. Hey.”

  I stood frozen, afraid that if I moved, I might miss a second of my first moments with . . . my sister. “Wow. I guess we really should have planned this. I mean, it makes sense that we would talk on the phone first, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  She hadn’t said much, but I heard so much. Her history, her life was in her voice. It was in the raspiness of her tone; there was an edge, no warmth. I heard a girl who’d lived a different life from the one I was blessed to live, and now I wanted to know more about her.

  I put as much heart into my voice as I could. “I’m really looking forward to meeting you.”

  “Me too.”

  At this moment, I wished I’d been some kind of journalist or attorney so I would know what to say next. So that I could stimulate our conversation and get more than two syllables from her at a time.

  “Well, Regan is going to take care of everything for you, but is there anything you need before you leave? Anything I can do for you?”

  There was a pause and then, “Yeah, I need some clothes.”

  “Oh.” My head jerked back a bit with surprise. “Okay. Uh . . . I can arrange that. Regan can take you shopping.”

  “She doesn’t have to take me,” she said, with that edge. “I can go by myself. I just need a credit card.”

  “Oh . . . okay. Uh . . . let me speak to Regan.”

  “Okay.”

  “Keisha!” I shouted, hoping she hadn’t passed the phone to Regan. “I really can’t wait to see you. And . . .” I held my breath for a second before I spoke my next words. “Our father . . . our father is looking forward to it, too.”

  “Okay,” she said, though she didn’t sound like she had any hope for the future.

  Then, I heard, “Gabrielle?”

  “Wow!” I whispered, not wanting to take the chance of Keisha hearing me through Regan’s cell. “I just spoke to my sister.”

  “That’s what we think. Still have to make sure.”

  “I know. The DNA test, and now that I know Keisha is coming, I’ll talk to Daddy about that.”

  “Yup. Definitely going to do it and no worries, I’ll handle it.”

  “Okay. And can you handle something else for me?” I didn’t give her a chance to respond. “Keisha said she needs some clothes.”

  “I heard.”

  “She said she doesn’t need you to take her shopping.”

  “Heard that, too.”

  “So, can you give her a couple of dollars?”

  “I can handle that. I’m going to get everything together here and call you back with our plans.”

  “When do you think you’re coming back?”

  “I’m hoping tonight, but I’ll talk to Keisha and then get back to you.”

  “Okay. And, Regan, thank you so much. I am forever grateful to you, my friend.”

  Her response to my words was only “I love you.”

  “More,” I told her before I clicked off.

  I kept the phone in my hand, feeling almost like that was the way to hold on to my sister.

  My sister.

  I had just spoken to the young woman that I was 99 percent sure was my sister.

  It was weird—I’d sent Regan to find her, but I hadn’t prepared myself for this moment. I hadn’t been ready to speak to her and I wished to God that I’d had better words, stronger
words, words that would have really welcomed her. But that was okay; it was the first time, and it was only over the phone. I’d be prepared for our first time standing face-to-face.

  I had to get ready. I had to decide what we were going to do. Have a dinner? Take Keisha out to dinner? Have friends over, or should it just be me and Daddy first? What about Bella and Mauricio?

  Or should we meet Keisha at the airport with balloons and a huge placard? Lots of cheers, overwhelm her with love?

  “Take a deep breath,” I told myself as I made my way back upstairs. There was plenty of time, especially since the sun was just beginning its rise.

  The first thing I had to do was call my father, our father. I had to prepare Elijah Wilson to meet his second child.

  13

  Keisha

  The moment I said good-bye and then handed the cell phone to Regan, I asked if I could use her bathroom. She nodded, then pressed the phone to her ear. I guessed she and Gabrielle were gonna do a little talking about me. Well, I was about to do a little talking about them.

  I almost ran into that bathroom, and my fingers shook, making it hard for me to even lock the bathroom door. All this time, I’d been looking at her pictures, and now I had been on the phone talking to her.

  I had talked to Gabrielle Wilson Flores.

  Oh my God!

  And she sounded nice. Way nice. The kind of nice that was going to work right into my plan. I had to tell Buck.

  First, I turned on the faucet, then I pushed down the toilet seat and sat before I dialed his number; he answered on the first ring.

  “Yo, you left and didn’t say anything.”

  “I told you I had to meet Gabrielle’s friend.”

  “Did you?”

  “Uh-huh. I saw her, and I spoke to Gabrielle.” I told him about the call.

  “Yo, we’re gonna get bank from this.”

  “I know,” I said. “I asked Gabrielle for money to buy some clothes and she didn’t even blink. She’s gonna have Regan take care of it for me.”

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout. You think she’ll let you use her credit card?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll try. Then, I’ll head over to you. What time do you get to work?”

  “I’m rolling into the lot right now. Come find me. I’ll be in sporting goods.”

  “Got you.”

  I clicked off the phone, then turned off the water, and right before I left the bathroom I flushed the toilet just so Regan wouldn’t be wondering what I’d been doing in here.

  When I opened the door, though, I got a shock. Regan was standing right there. I mean, she was standing like her ear had been pressed to the door. Oh my God—had she been listening?

  She stepped back, letting me move past her.

  “Thank you,” I said, wondering what this chick was up to. I crossed the room and stood in front of the window.

  She said, “Did you wash your hands?”

  “Huh?”

  “I heard the water running for quite a while, then it stopped, then the toilet flushed.” She paused. “So I was just asking . . . did you wash your hands?”

  Dang! She was checking me like that?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, and then rubbed my hands together as if they were still a little wet or something.

  She stood by the bathroom door, just looking at me and this time I saw her judgment in her stance. When she didn’t say anything else, I spoke up, “Gabrielle said you would help me get some clothes. So, can I borrow your credit card?”

  Regan had already been standing like she was a statue, but now she stood like she was a statue on ice.

  “What?” I said, shrugging.

  Now she squinted and looked at me as if I’d just cursed her or something.

  “What?” I said again.

  She folded her arms. But she didn’t say anything.

  So I crossed my arms, too, but I did say something. “Why are you looking at me like I did something wrong?”

  Finally, her lips parted. “You just spoke to the woman who could be your sister for the first time, and this is what you have to say? This is what you ask me?”

  What in the world did she expect? “Yeah. I spoke to her and she asked if I needed anything. And I told her I needed some clothes if I was going to Los Angeles. I don’t have anything to wear.” I stared back at her as hard as she’d been looking at me.

  For the first time, her eyes left my face, and she looked down at the jeans and top I was wearing. I was trying to keep my face tight, but I couldn’t help it—I smirked. Because I could tell that she’d just noticed my clothes.

  After she looked me up and down, she came toward me with this expression. Like she was so mad she wanted to fight. I wasn’t worried. I was Daisy Jones’s daughter; my mama had taken grown men down. I knew how to take care of myself.

  But Regan didn’t step to me at all. She stopped at the desk and opened that big ole red bag she’d been carrying yesterday. She pulled out her wallet. “Where are you going shopping?”

  “Probably over to Walmart,” I said, then hoped she wouldn’t say she was going with me.

  “How much do you think you’ll need?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s why I was thinking a credit card would be better than cash.” She glared at me, and I added, “I won’t spend that much. You can give me a limit.”

  She counted out some bills. “What I’m going to give you is this.” She shoved the money into my hand, like I was a charity case. If getting money from her hadn’t been part of my plan, I would’ve pushed those bills right back in her hand and told her what she could do with each of them one at a time.

  But I had to remember my goal. I didn’t get the credit card this time, but I would. Probably never from Regan, though, ’cause for some reason she wasn’t feeling me. I didn’t know why . . . I wasn’t the one who’d come to them. But Regan still looked at me like I was some kind of fraud.

  That was okay, though. Her last name wasn’t Wilson.

  So I took the money and said, “Thank you,” then tucked the bills into my jeans without even looking at what she’d given me. “So do you know what time we’re gonna leave today?”

  She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “There are a couple of flights leaving from Little Rock a little later. So it depends on you. What do you have to do today?”

  “Nothing except go over to Walmart. It’s not that far from here, over on Monument Drive.”

  She nodded. “Well, you go take care of that, and then we’ll meet back here. I’m going to get dressed, pack my things, so I’m figuring we can leave any time this afternoon or this evening. I think the last flight leaves around six or so.”

  “Cool,” I said. “So . . .” I wanted to just turn, cut and run, but I had to figure out which way Regan wanted me to act so that she would stop looking at me liked I’d just snatched her purse. “So I’ll get going.” Now I looked at the clock. It wasn’t yet eight. “I’ll be back by about two.”

  “Two?” She squinted. “I thought you said the only thing you had to do was go to Walmart.”

  Why was this woman checking me like I was ten and she was my mama?

  “Yeah, that’s all I have to do, but after that, I wanna say good-bye to a few people, let them know where I’m going.” I paused. “Is that okay?” I wasn’t really asking for her permission. I’d said it with such attitude—my way of saying, Back up, lady. Now that I’d been introduced to Gabrielle, now that Elijah knew all about me, Regan was no longer a factor.

  She nodded, but with the way she glared at me, I could tell she still didn’t believe me. Whatever! It was too complicated trying to figure her out, so I just stomped past her.

  I didn’t even wait for the elevator; I took the stairs all the way from the seventh floor to the first, and when I got into my car, I pulled the money from my jeans and counted it—five twenty-dollar bills. Dang! I’d never had one hundred dollars to go shopping before. />
  I separated the money and put sixty in my right pocket and forty in my left one. Then I revved up my car and even though it started smoking, I didn’t care. As long as it got me to Walmart and back, I’d be good.

  As I drove, I imagined what it was going to be like in Los Angeles. Even though I was going there to take care of business, I was a little excited about going someplace outside of Arkansas. The biggest city I’d ever been to was Little Rock, and except for going to high school, I hadn’t hung out there a lot.

  But I knew a little about Los Angeles from my tenth-grade geography class and all the stuff I saw on TV. I wondered if I was going to see movie stars, or other famous people. Would I run into some of my favorite stars from any of those Real Housewives shows? I wanted to meet those ladies because they were living the lit life.

  There was so much in my head as I rolled into the parking lot, then rushed into the superstore, which on some weekends looked a lot like a club—Walmart was the place to hang out.

  It was way too early for the Saturday-night club vibe, though. The store was almost empty as I weaved through the aisles, heading for Buck’s section. I spotted him before I even got there. He was sitting on one of the bicycles, not doing anything that looked like work; just chillin’.

  I shook my head. I had no idea how he was able to keep his job.

  “Yo, boo, what’s up?” he said before he hugged me, then kissed me like he wasn’t at work and we weren’t standing in the middle of this discount store. But when he stepped back, the first thing he said was, “So, did she give you her credit card?”

  I looked my boyfriend up, then down. Even though he could be triflin’, he really was fine. His best assets—he had two—were his wavy hair and his biceps. Oh, and then there were all his tattoos (at least a dozen) and his gold grill, which had me from that first day when he’d said hello. I shook my head . . . yeah, he was fine.

  Finally I answered his question. “Nah, I don’t think she trusted me enough to give me her credit card, but she did give me some cash.”

  “How much?”

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out two bills. “Forty dollars.”

  Buck took the money and checked it as if he thought maybe I didn’t know how to count cash. “That’s it?” He shook his head and made a sound with his teeth like he was disgusted. “Yo, she’s cheap. How we gonna go to the bank with this?” He held up the two twenties.