Authors: Laurie Jean Cannady
Crave (34 page)
Things soon began to change with Pat. It wasn't as drastic as the change with Greg or as subtle as the one with Sanford. It was more like the bend atop a hill, where you can't be sure there's more road until you get to the other side. Although Pat spent most of his time in Lincoln Park, he wasn't spending as much of it with me. I wasn't worried he was with another girl or that he'd lost interest. I could see him from my window or my porch. He wasn't physically away, just mentally too fast, too anxious to get close to.
I could still feel him when he entered Lincoln Park, but even that connection was waning. Some days we would be sitting on my porch and the signals between us would be in a constant state of avoidance. It was as if our satellites had begun sending different messages and neither of us knew how to unscramble them. He still wore the same smile, but not as frequently. He still had the same walk, but something seemed to be weighing him down, making him heavier, when flight had been his best attribute.
His behavior became more erratic, too. It was as if he couldn't sit still. He had to be moving or talking in order to be alive. He suffered from asthma, but he said he hadn't had a bad attack since he'd been a kid. This is what he said as I heard his lungs squealing like a kitten, saw his chest falling and rising with no real rhythm, witnessed the corners of his mouth frothing. “The inhaler doesn't work for me,” he said. “I have to use the Primatene pills.”
“Do you have any money, so I can get you some pills?” I asked.
“No, I didn't make any today.” His words should have alarmed me since Pat spent every day in Lincoln Park “making money,” but I wasn't astute enough in that moment. My focus was on making him feel better.
“Well, why don't you ask Ms. Verna Mae if she'll let you get some pills today and you can pay her when you get the money?”
“She won't do it. She doesn't like me,” he panted, struggling
for air. I thought everyone loved Pat, but it seemed Ms. Verna Mae was immune to his charm. That didn't shock me too much. Ms. Verna Mae wasn't known for being a sweetheart. In fact, I thought she was mean. She often sat on her porch, saying how grown I was and that I would be the next one pregnant. When I went to the corner store, I tried to make sure I knew exactly what I was getting because a second's hesitation would make her yell, “You need to buy something or get out of the store.” I didn't know what I was thinking as I ran across the street, ready to ask Ms. Verna Mae to give something worth forty dollars. I expected her to embarrass me, to say get your “hot momma” to buy it for you, so I braced myself as I walked through the door.
The normal ding of the bell greeted me because Ms. Verna Mae did not. There was someone up at the front of the store, so I waited until he left. I practiced my breathing, imitating the wheeze I'd heard in Pat's chest. Once the bell dinged again, I made my way to Ms. Verna Mae empty-handed. She squinted her eyes and twisted her lips. Even though I couldn't see behind the counter, I could tell by the bounce of her body she was impatiently tapping one of her feet. “Hi, Ms. Verna Mae,” I said.
“Yes,” she replied with salt.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Hmmm hmmm,” she said as she placed her hand on her hip. I wanted to have something in my hand too, my hip, my other hand, something that would stop the sweat dripping from my palms.
“My momma's not home and I don't feel well,” I said, exhaling, hoping she could hear the congestion I'd conjured in my chest. “I'm having an asthma attack and I don't have any more medicine.”
“What do you need, Laurie?” she asked
I was surprised she knew my name. She'd only referred to me as that hot-in-the-pants girl who had boys coming to her house when her momma was holed up with her man.
“Do you have any Primatene Mist pills? I can't breathe and I don't know when my momma's coming home.” The lie came out so effortlessly it shocked me. I'd lied and not even for myself.
Even worse, I'd lied on Momma. I knew people in Lincoln Park saw Momma as a neglectful woman who left her kids alone, one who'd likely been raped because she walked around thinking she was cute. I'd added ammunition to their charges. I'd given another reason for the disapproving eyes that followed her. For that, I am still ashamed.
But then, as I looked up at Ms. Verna Mae, as she looked down at me, that didn't matter. What mattered was my man and what he needed. I had pushed Momma to the wayside. As I waited for a response, the shell of Ms. Verna Mae's face cracked, and I believe she saw me, not as I imagined I'd appeared before her, but as a child, not much different from her own children. “I'll pay you back when I get my summer pay,” I began as she reached behind the counter and pulled up the green box with yellow wording.
“Don't worry about it,” she said with a smile.
“But, I can get the money to you . . .”
“Go on, girl,” she ordered as she bagged the medicine and pushed the package toward me.
“Thanks so much, Ms. Verna Mae,” I said as I exited the store.
I ran to the side of my building where Pat stood, proud of the gift I had to give. Later that night, I thought about Ms. Verna Mae and the kindness she'd shown, even as I believed she disliked me. Maybe those eyes, as they followed me, as they followed Momma, told a different story from the one I'd been hearing. Maybe she wasn't as bad as I'd imagined. Maybe none of them were.
Soon after Pat's asthma attack, he got sicker. By then I'd heard rumors he was using heroin, the drug he sold. Those rumors I could ignore, but I couldn't overlook his nervousness, his red eyes, and mood swings. He was riding high one minute, all smiles and hugs. The next, I might say something that would prompt him to hold my hand tighter, longer, and press me against the wall of my porch, his raw, hot breath beating against my face. Then I could see him in the way his wife must have seen him, not so pretty at all. When he announced he was moving to Bristol, Tennessee, with his father, that his mom and dad both thought it best he leave Portsmouth, I
was almost happy. That was until I realized he wasn't just leaving Lincoln Park. He was leaving me.
I cried uncontrollably when I first heard the news, and I tried to devise a plan that would allow us to stay together, but nothing worked. As the days grew into each other, and the life slipped out of him, I saw how tired he was. I saw something in him hadn't been lost but replaced with an additive that was drying him up. I knew he needed to leave, so our last weekend together had to be special. We'd only been together one other time before, but I wanted to love him enough so he'd want to come back, so he'd find me again and we'd finish life together.
Pat and Shawn, Mary's boyfriend, picked us up together. I wasn't sure of whose car we were in and I didn't care. I just wanted to be with Pat. We rode to Virginia Beach, where Mary and I separated. She and Shawn went one way on the beach while Pat and I went the other.
Pat spread the blanket he carried on the sand. Despite the wind rushing off the waves and the prickly sand beneath my feet, I grew warm when I sat on it. As Pat lay next to me, then on me, the waves, the stars, the grains of sand being sifted by my toes, all of those still, unliving things came alive. They danced with us and the waves clapped as we professed our love for one another. The stars shone down on us, making his caramel-colored eyes taupe, and his strong arms became mere silhouettes, barely visible in the moonlight. He held me so tightly I could barely hear his words, “I'm so sorry I have to go. We will be together again.” I believed him and prayed him speaking them would make them true.
We lay on the sand together, watched the dark night crack under the pressure of day, just as I was cracking under the thoughts of minutes, hours, and days without him bouncing to my porch, smiling with his eyes, acting as distraction to what had before been unbearable.
“I'll send for you,” I said. “Wherever I go, I'll send for you.”
Pat stared into my eyes as he held me close. “And I'll come,” he whispered. “I'll come.”
Months later, after I returned from basic training for Christmas break, I saw Pat. He'd come back to Portsmouth soon after I left because of a disagreement with his father. Although Lincoln Park and Portsmouth had not changed, we had, or maybe I had changed and that made him seem different to me. He wore the same charisma and handsome looks, but his normal glow had dimmed. His eyes didn't seem as toffee when surrounded by red tint. Supple lips had gone dark and his long stride had slowed. Despite my knowing, I slept with Pat. As he lay on me, no longer fitting, no longer feeling like he once had, I thought about the difference months could make and the life, away, I was willing to surrender, just to have him with me. I still saw that beautiful man who had chosen me, the one I believed had increased my worth with his desire alone, the one meant to save me from Lincoln Park, from a life of wanting, even though he could not save himself.
After Pat left, I needed to be preoccupied, so I, along with my new best friend, Vel, gathered sets of guys we could date on any given night. One such set was Reggie and Randy. I'd been in school with Reggie and Randy since eighth grade, but I usually steered clear of both of them. Randy was known to be a player, and Reggie seemed madly in love with his girlfriend. I felt immense pride in the way they loved each other, with care and patience. In my mind, they were the Billy Dee Williams and Diana Ross of Wilson High, demonstrating what young black love was supposed to look like. I often thought of relationships like theirs while being battered by Sanford.
Reggie had been in most of my classes during high school. Whenever I chose a seat, I made sure it wasn't near him. As an adolescent, I didn't understand my need to distance myself from him, so I told myself it was out of respect for his relationship and fear of Sanford. He'd never said or done anything hurtful to me, and in our Spanish class when we sang “Feliz Navidad,” he had the best drumming skills. But something was familiar about him that made me uncomfortable. So I stayed away until the summer day that found Vel and me sitting on my porch, waiting for something to happen.
“I'm bored,” she said.
“Me too,” I replied.
“I'm gonna call Randy and see what he's doing.”
“All right, girl,” I said, willing to do anything in order to occupy my thoughts. Vel walked to the pay phone, talked for five minutes, and came back with a smile on her face.
“He's coming over,” she said.
Good for you
, I thought.
Now I have to either be a third wheel or alone
. My night wasn't getting better.
“And he's bringing Reggie with him.”
“Oh no,” I said. “Not for me. He has a girlfriend.”
“Not anymore, and he said he likes you, girl. He was happy you were going to be here.”
When they arrived, I sunk into the front seat of Reggie's purple Legend and watched as brilliant colors danced around the dashboard. Shabba Ranks' “Mr. Lover Man” blared through the speaker. The smell of newness emanating from the seat held me comfortably. I enjoyed riding in luxury I'd never known. Still, I sat as close to the door as I could, with my hand resting on the handle, ready to catapult if necessary.
“Why are you sitting all the way over there?” he asked. “You scared?”
I shook my head “no,” but remained glued to the door.
Once we reached Virginia Beach, the road seemed to transform into a Christmas tree, weighted by lights. There were hundreds of cars, squirming along the street like lighting bugs trying to find darkness in a sea of light. There were lines of stores, lit up like bulbs, illuminating the streets with their glow. Suddenly, a sick feeling crept over me. What if we ran into Sanford? I didn't really know Reggie, and if Sanford attacked, what would make him want to save me if I weren't his? I saw Sanford on every corner, in car after car as we cruised Atlantic Avenue. Once we entered the room, the shadows disappeared.
“I need something to help me relax,” I said.
Reggie and Randy had come prepared. They pulled out bottles of Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill wine, my and Vel's drink of choice. I smiled at Vel, knowing she must have told them what to buy. Then, I didn't feel so alone. I was with my best friend. I didn't have to do anything at all with Reggie and we were in Virginia Beach in one of the most beautiful hotel suites I'd ever seen. A calm settled over me like a warm rag soothing irritated eyes. I took one glass after another, until the first bottle was empty. Then my belly began to churn. It felt as if my colon were wrapping itself around my heart. The more I drank, the greater the pain became.
We sat in the living room of the hotel suite as I tried to hide the pain. After a while, I couldn't take anymore. I called Vel into
the bedroom and explained my dilemma. “Vel, I gotta go to the bathroom and I don't want to do it with them here.”
Vel let out a high-pitched laugh that embarrassed me even more. “Girl, you serious?”
“Stop laughing, Vel,” I said as I began laughing myself. “My stomach's tore up and it's going to be a bad one.”
She laughed again, this time holding herself up by the door. “Okay, I've got a plan.”
Vel's plans were usually as much fun as they were trouble. We became friends because she wanted to be a majorette. Every day after school, we'd stand in my front yard, kicking dirt as we ran through the routines she needed to learn. Having a background in dance, it was easy for her to learn the routines, and even after she'd mastered them all, we remained close friends.
The first thing that made us perfect friends was we were never attracted to the same guys. Any guy Vel dated, to put it lightly, repulsed me. They were either too short, too tall, too thick, too thin, or too something for me. The same could be said for Vel and her reaction to the guys I dated. Second, we were the same size, which meant we could borrow each other's clothes and shoes. Third, and most important, Vel lived in Dale Homes with her grandmother, who wasn't as strict as Momma. I told Momma I was staying with Vel and then we, together, would steal away to whatever guys we were dating at the moment.
We had a pretty good system going for us. The only interference was Vel's nana. Although Vel had grown up in the projects just as I had, she had a father and a nana, ones who came to see her, provided her with money, and took care of her. I used to joke with Vel that I'd marry her daddy and be her momma one day. We'd laugh about that, but I was always a little saddened Vel's father and his family cared enough to stick around when mine hadn't.
Vel's nana hated me. I was only seventeen and she sneered each time she saw me.
“Why are you hanging around with that ghetto girl? I don't like her. She's nothing but trouble,” she'd say. Vel often mimicked her
nana's high-pitched voice, and we laughed at this together, but her words hurt. I'd never said or done anything to make her feel that way about me, but she'd determined, with just one look and a minimal amount of discussion, I was not good for her Vel. Sometimes, I wondered if she was right.
Vel's nana didn't know Vel and I were one and the same. We'd both suffered abusive boyfriends and we'd both found a way out. Having been free from her ex longer than I was from Sanford, she often led the way to our adventures.
“Look, we'll tell Reggie and Randy we're hungry. They can go down to that McDonald's and they'll be gone for a minute. You can go then and we'll air the room out.” It sounded like a great plan and I didn't have any other options, so I agreed.
Vel laughed through the bathroom door, “Oh girl, you stink. Hurry up before they come back.” I was grateful for her friendship, as she sprayed perfume in the bathroom, and opened all of the suite's windows and doors. When Reggie and Randy returned, I wasn't hungry at all. I wasn't thirsty either, but I kept drinking. I needed something to burn the back of my throat, to burn the anxieties out of my mind. I drank until the room grew darker, until I saw Sanford no more, until I couldn't see myself sitting, drinking anymore. Then all I could see was me and Reggie kissing, then me on top of him, then me under him.
When body reconnected with mind, sobs shook me and prompted me to curl into myself. Reggie paused, tried to find my eyes through the darkness, but I did not want to see and I did not want to be seen. I stared at the wall farthest from me, my body frozen, moving only because of tears that wrestled out.
“What's wrong?” he whispered. I shook my head. I didn't know the answer, and what I did know I couldn't say. I searched for him through the darkness. His eyes were too familiar and I worked to place where they originally resided in my mind. The eyes did not match the smile. His smooth dark skin became hard like leather. I saw Reggie as himself, but he was also someone that had been before.
Reggie stopped, rested his head on my shoulder. Nothing outside of me hurt. All pain was within, like a cramp with no muscle.
“What is wrong?” he asked again. Through my fog, his voice became clear. He was Reggie, smooth, dark skin, brown eyes, soft lips with soft smile.
“We have to stop.”
“Why?” he gingerly asked.
“Because I have a boyfriend.”
Reggie laughed, seemingly relieved nothing dire had happened.
“He's in Tennessee, but I still love him.”
“That's okay,” he said with sincerity. “We can stop. I only want you to do this if you want to,” he said as he smiled.
I appreciated his tenderness, the way he seemed to genuinely care how I felt even though what I wanted contradicted what he wanted.
He smiled again, “Tennessee's a long way from Virginia, though.”
I wanted to believe I was stopping because of Pat, but if Pat was my focus, I would never have started. Something else was stopping me, but I was afraid to learn what that something was. So, I focused on Pat, allowed the guilt of my disloyalty to wrap itself around me, pressing the air from my chest.
Reggie lay next to me and quickly went to sleep. I could hear not only his breathing, but the breathing of the walls, the wind, everything around me, shaming what I'd done. I was perplexed by the heaviness of my act with Reggie.
I unwrapped Reggie's arms from my waist, made my way to the room where Randy and Vel lay, walked over to her side of the bed, and shook her out of sleep.
“Vel, wake up,” I whispered, careful not to wake Randy.
“What?” Vel said, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.
“I need to get out of here, now,” I cried. She sat up and surveyed me. I was unsure of what she was looking for.
“What happened? Did he do something to you?” she asked.
“I slept with him,” I whispered, ashamed to even hear myself say it. “Can we walk on the beach? I need air.”
Vel snickered. “That's all you did? Girl, it's three in the morning. We can walk tomorrow. You okay? You're not hurt, are you?”
I cried even harder, devastated she wouldn't go with me. I'm certain my tears were flowing because of the alcohol I drank, but I also knew something else was wrong and I needed my friend to help me figure it out. There was nothing I could do then and there, so I went back into the living room, lay next to Reggie and tried to drown out the breathing walls.
The next morning Reggie and Randy took us home. I sat, again, clinging to the car door, ready to jump out as soon as he slowed. I didn't want him to look at me in the light, didn't want him to remember me with eyes closed, face twisting as we sexed. Reggie kept peeking at me as he drove us home. Once he dropped us off at Vel's, I said a quick goodbye and made my way into Vel's house. My aversion to him had no origin I could trace. I just knew I needed to stay away.
The next day I was at home washing dishes when Vel walked into the kitchen with a smile on her face. Her bright skin glowed as she walked into the dimly lit room.
“Guess what, Laurie?” she sang. “Reggie's outside.” Her smile widened. “Can he come in to see you?”
Vel went back outside and in came Reggie alone. He looked taller than he had the night before and he wasn't as thin as I remembered either. I would have admired his smooth skin, soft dark eyes, and deep waves if Pat weren't mine and I his. I reminded myself of this as he walked into the kitchen.
“Hey, Laurie,” he said.
“Hey, Reggie,” I replied.
“You okay? Did I do something wrong the other night?” he asked with a quietness that threw me off guard. Reggie was one of the most popular guys in school and he definitely wasn't the quietest. But there, in that kitchen, he seemed vulnerable, waiting for an answer.
“No, you didn't do anything. I just have a boyfriend and I didn't want to cheat on him.”
He let out a sigh and leaned against the stove.
“Man, I'm glad to hear that. I thought I'd done something to you.”
Then he looked directly at me, pulling my gaze toward him, “You know, I've had a crush on you for a while.” He laughed at his own words. “I used to watch you in Mrs. Spencer's class and I always liked when you talked about the stories we were reading. I really want to get to know you better. If that's all right.”
“But my boyfriend . . .”
“If he's in Tennessee, what's wrong with us just hanging out? We're just friends, right?”
Reggie and I settled into a comforting routine. We weren't boyfriend and girlfriend. I knew I wasn't “his one” and he never forced the role of being “my one” on himself. We were like classmates, sitting in the same room, sometimes in the same desk, but we were learning two different lessons.
Three months before I left for basic training, I took a job at Wynn's crab store. They had the best crabs in Portsmouth. I got full as soon as I walked into work. I worked there with Tyrane, a pretty girl with a fiery attitude. I spent much of my time at work laughing at her fussing at the boss to stop telling her what to do all of the time. Before working at Wynn's, I'd known Tyrane from afar. I knew she was a pretty girl, but I'd also heard she would whip up on folks if she needed to. Ironically, she was one of the sweetest girls I'd ever met. We got to know each other better, as I shared some of my stories about Sanford and she shared some of the things she'd experienced with her relationships. One night, I got off earlier than her and I needed a ride home. Other than Vel and Randy, no one knew I was seeing Reggie. I confided in Tyrane and she, like a good girlfriend, giggled and picked on me all night. When I couldn't get a ride, she laughingly said, “Girl, you better call Reggie and let him take you home.”
Up until that point, it was always Laurie, Reggie, Vel, and Randy. I hadn't spent any time with him alone, but after Tyrane said that, I thought, she's right. He is a friend and like a good friend, he would be there when I needed him.
