Careful of the Company You Keep (30 page)

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Authors: Angie Daniels

BOOK: Careful of the Company You Keep
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51
Renee
I was scared.
All I could do was think about all the men that I'd been with and those few times that I gave in to the moment and let the feeling dictate my behavior. Five times in the last three years. There was three times that I could remember that I didn't even bother using a condom, and they were with men that to this day I couldn't stand. Two were while vacationing in Jamaica. Landon. The rest while swinging with my husband. What in the hell was I thinking? I knew the consequences and the risk. I had read the pamphlets. Saw the statistics. HIV in black women was rising, and we can't blame it all on down-low brothers. There's also making bad choices. And I had made plenty, but fucking without a condom was even worse.
Please, Lord. Let me be all right.
It was the Memorial Day weekend, and I was so glad Tamara was with her dad and Quinton went to St. Louis with his friends. I know Alicia went with them, but I'm through trying to fight him. I know I can't dictate who he sees. Besides, I have bigger problems.
I lay awake most of the night thinking about my life and wanted so badly to call my friends for inspiration, but I just couldn't bring myself to share this news with anyone. I didn't want anyone to know, at least not until I got my test results.
I prayed and read a couple of scriptures from my Bible. It's a shame that we only call on the Lord when we really need Him. I know that, but I need Him now. If Lisa was alive, she would have told me to think of all of the things I have to be thankful for. Friends. Kids. A career. My sister fought cancer for years and eventually lost the fight, but not once did she let her illness control her life. She was a fighter. I remember once when she told me, “I'm not about to let this condition dictate the future of my life. Ovarian cancer is what I have, not who I am.”
That night I was sleeping soundly in my bed when the doorbell rang. I looked over at the clock and saw it was almost three o'clock.
Who the hell is ringing my doorbell at this time of the morning?
I got up and looked in the window and saw it was the neighborhood bag lady. Her eyes were wide and she looked like she hadn't taken her medicine in a couple of days.
“What do you want?” I didn't mean to yell, but it was too damn early in the morning for her begging.
“My mother had a stroke and I need money to go see her before she dies!”
I groaned. “I don't have any money.” I think I had four dollars in my purse.
“I have to see her before she dies,” she pleaded.
“How much you need?”
“Twenty-two dollars.”
There was no way I was giving this woman that much money. I was starting to think that maybe she was on crack. I shook my head. “I'm sorry, but I don't have it.”
“Oh no!” She started crying.
My heart started to bleed, but I just couldn't be giving her that much money. Something was wrong with that woman. She was either on drugs or mentally ill. “You've got to stop going to people's houses begging. It's just too early in the morning. Please go home before someone calls the police.” She nodded with tears in her eyes and headed home.
I went back to my bed and couldn't go back to sleep because she was heavy on my mind. It was a relief to have something else to think about other than my HIV test.
I got up and took a shower and was at work before eight. I was glad there was a report for me to type because it gave me something to do other than sit and think about my problems.
I left around one and went over to the health department to get my testing done, then headed to the grocery store and to pick up Tamara from her dad's. I was taking her to get her driver's license today.
She passed her test and I was so happy for her. Her car was sitting in the garage waiting on her.
As we pulled into the subdivision I spotted the bag lady sitting on her porch. As soon as we passed, she rose from her seat.
“Shit, I bet she's on her way to our house,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Mama, she's worrisome.”
We started unloading the car as fast as we could because any second I would see her coming around the corner. Sure enough, as I reached for the gallon of milk, I spotted her coming toward the cul-de-sac. I carried the milk in the house.
“Mama, you want me to talk to her?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I got her.” We moved to get the last of the stuff out of the trunk. Tamara started laughing when she drew near. I stuck my head in the car and started laughing too, then forced myself to stop and think of what excuse I was going to come up with now.
The woman moved up my driveway and I looked over at her long face. “Hello.”
“She died! My mama died!” Her shoulders slouched and she started crying hard. “I didn't even get to talk to her before she died. I tried to get to her but I couldn't.”
I never felt so bad in my life. I just knew there was no way I could deny this woman the twenty-two dollars she needed to go and see her mother before she was buried.
I sighed. “What's your name?”
“Hattie. Hattie Woods,” she said between sniffles.
“Where is your mom, Hattie?” I asked like I had just found a child who had been wandering around a store lost and crying because she couldn't find her mother.
“She's in St. Louis. I need to catch the Greyhound.”
I could tell Tamara was touched as well. “Mama, you want me to call Greyhound?”
I nodded. “Yeah, go find the phone book.” I reached for the last bag. “Hattie, come on in.”
“You want me to help with your bags?”
I shook my head. “No, this is the last one.” We walked into the house together, and I told her to have a seat on the couch while we found the phone book.
“I'm so sorry to bother you, but I just want to get to see my mama. I've got a little money but not enough to get down there and eat on.”
“Do you have any family?” I asked as I sat on the loveseat across from her.
“I have two brothers. They're married with their own families.”
“Can't they send you the money?”
She started crying again. “They said they don't have any money to be sending me.”
I pursed my lips trying to keep my anger at bay. I felt so sorry for this pitiful woman.
“I am schizophrenic, so I take medicine.”
I had figured as much. “You can't keep wandering the streets of this neighborhood begging. You're going to end up in jail or worse.”
She nodded like an obedient child.
Tamara brought me the phone book, and I looked up the phone number to Greyhound and dialed. As I listened to the recording I shared the information.
“The bus cost thirty dollars and ninety-three cents.”
She nodded.
“There is one leaving at nine twenty-five tomorrow morning.”
She nodded fast. “I've got to be on the bus. I got to see my mama.”
I was quiet trying to think what to do. “Okay, how much do you still need?”
“I need twenty-two dollars. That way I can eat while I'm there.”
Tamara came back carrying a box of Kleenex. A good thing because Hattie was snotting all over the place.
“Do you have any friends in Columbia?”
She shook her head and tried to keep her tears from resurfacing. “If I had friends I would have borrowed the money from them.”
“How long have you been in Columbia?”
She blew her nose before answering. “Five months. I was so tired of St. Louis I thought this would be a nice place to start over.”
I gave her a comforting smile. “Maybe you need to think about going back home. You're struggling so hard here.”
She nodded. “I might take your advice. It's been hard for me to make ends meet. I don't have enough food or money.”
I remembered the time she had asked for food and money and I had turned her away and felt sick to my stomach.
She blew her nose and started crying some more. “All I wanted to do was go and see my mama but I couldn't make it!” she cried.
I felt so bad because if I had given her the money she might have made it in time to say good-bye. I tried to think of something to say. I've never been the most sensitive person in the world.
“When was the last time you spoke to your mother?”
She dabbed her eyes with the Kleenex. “Last Friday. And she was fine. She didn't complain about anything.”
“That's how you need to remember her. We're all on this earth for a short period of time. When God says it's our time, it's our time. Just think, she's in a better place right now.”
She nodded.
“Remember she loved you and hold that dear to your heart.”
Hattie started crying again.
“Let me take you home and then I'll run and get some money for you.” I rose and moved around to where she was sitting on the couch.
“Thank you. Nobody else wants to help me, but you always do.”
She rose and was still bawling.
My heart broke. “Come here.” I moved forward and embraced her. Tamara was standing to the side in awe. I guess she wasn't used to seeing this side of me. I couldn't help it, but this woman could be my mother.
“Now quit crying. I'm going to get you to your mama.” I pulled back. “Do you have a ride to the bus station?”
She nodded. “My neighbor Melody will take me.”
“You sure? Because I leave at seven and I can drop you off.”
She shook her head. “She'll take me. I'm going to be there at eight o'clock even if I have to walk. I'm not missing that bus.”
I gave her a weak smile, trying my damndest not to cry right along with her. “Come on, let's go.” I draped an arm around her shoulders and showed her to the door. We climbed into my car and I drove her around the block to her duplex.
“You want to come in?” she asked.
“I'll come in when I get back with your money.”
“Okay. I will give you your money back when I get my check on the first.”
I patted her arm touched by the gesture. “Don't worry about it. Keep your money.”
“You're so kind. My caseworker took me today to go and get my medicines and she tried to help me get the money. She took me to the voluntary action center, but they said I have already used up all my resources with them helping me with my utilities.”
I kept my comment to myself, but if her caseworker was any kind of woman she would have just taken her own money and bought the ticket her damn self. “Don't worry. I'll be back with your money in a few minutes.”
Hattie nodded, then climbed out of the car. I waited until she was inside before I pulled off and headed to the bank. I had barely made it to the corner when the tears started running down my face. It was so sad. I thought about all the times I had turned that poor woman away.
I picked up the phone and called Kayla. She immediately sensed something was wrong. “Renee, what's wrong with you?”
“Girl, I'm sitting in my car crying about this woman up the street.”
“The one who begs all the time?”
I had told her about the money and sanitary napkins. “Yeah, she is so pitiful. I had a chance to really talk to her and she's no more crazy than my mom. She's just a nice woman who has a mental illness.” I told her everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours and kept having to stop and start over because I was crying so hard. All she wanted was to see her mother before she had died, and no one would help her. What had the world become? Suddenly me having HIV wasn't anywhere near as important as helping this woman.
“It's a shame,” Kayla said with a sigh of despair.
“Yeah, I'm on my way to the bank to get her thirty dollars to buy her ticket.”
“That's nice of you.”
“Anyway, I didn't want anything, I just needed a shoulder to cry on.”
“Anytime.”
I hung up and made myself stop crying.
You're helping her now.
A few minutes later I was back at her duplex and found Hattie sitting out on the porch waiting. As soon as she saw me, she rose and opened the door.
“Come on in.”
I stepped into her apartment. It was so poor I had to make myself not cry. There was a beat-up couch and a coffee table in the living room.
“You can have anything you want,” she said, offering me any of her worldly possessions for my kindness. There was no way I could take anything from this woman even if she did have anything of value.

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