Heaven or Hell (3 page)

“Let’s go, JJ.” Teresa in a panic grabbed JJ’s shoulders and spun him around. She pushed him out the front door toward the car. “Move it. The longer we take, the longer the drive will take.”

“Hey, I’ve been waiting for you.” JJ stumbled down the sidewalk balancing his backpack while he continued to send out a greeting to whatever friend.

“When you start driving in a few months, you’ll understand.” Teresa closed and locked the front door, jogged to the driver’s side, pressed the
open
button on her car key, and within a second was in the driver’s seat ready to go. JJ was still standing outside the car, with the door open, focused on a text message.

“Get in. We need to go, now,” Teresa snapped.

“Okay, okay.” JJ landed in the passenger seat.

Aunt Jessie’s words came immediately to mind—“That boy is a true product of his generation, helpless without a remote control, a calculator, and a mom to drive him to school.” Teresa dismissed her aunt’s voice, checked the mirrors, started the car, and moved through the neighborhood.

Her heart pounded rapidly over the last-minute rush. “Cross your fingers and say a prayer to the traffic gods,” she requested.

She pulled her seatbelt across her lap while she drove.

“Jeez, Mom, you’re supposed to do that before you step on it.” JJ talked while he tapped out another text message on his phone.

“That’s rude to be constantly on the phone texting.” Teresa pointed at JJ and his phone. “Why don’t you put it away for a while, JJ? You don’t do that in class, do you?”

“Mom, both hands, please. I want to live to my sixteenth birthday,” JJ said. “Everybody texts in class.”

“John Joseph Reynolds—the teachers let you?” Teresa demanded.

“They don’t know.” JJ laughed. “I’m good at hiding it—most of the kids are.”

Teresa made a mental note to deal with JJ’s texting later; she shook her head and focused on the road.

She was relieved to find only the first bell ringing when they arrived at Grant High School. A fast commute on the freeway in the morning was rare in Southern California, and she felt as if the world had magically opened up to aid in this on-time arrival. Teresa sighed and relaxed a bit.

“It’s a good sign.” Teresa’s voice rose a pitch as she clapped her hands. “We made it, and now it’s going to be a good day.”

“It’s always a good day, Mom.” JJ leaned over and kissed Teresa on the cheek, a practice he had never been ashamed of. “I’ll try and find a ride home after school. See you later, alligator.”

Teresa watched her son, amazed at how like an adult JJ appeared, yet how like a child he behaved. In a moment, JJ jumped into the middle of a group of teens, many of whom he’d been friends with since kindergarten. He slapped knuckles and giggled like an overgrown infant. As Teresa watched, JJ’s long legs lost all of the athletic agility she’d witnessed only seconds before. “Goofy” appeared to have taken over his body.

He swatted at the dark curly locks that covered his eyes and rested slightly above his shoulders.
Time for a haircut
, Teresa thought. She pulled away from the curb and felt a sense of calm roll over her body. In this aspect of her life, at least, she knew she’d done well.

Teresa thought about work while she maneuvered through traffic. It’d been almost a decade since she’d opened The Soap Store and had become her own boss. Soap, of all things. An appropriate product for a clean lifestyle. “Natural cleaning products for the body, the house, and industry.” What a thrill for her, owning soap products and selling cleanliness. Uncle Joe, her friend Rita, and a few others thought she was insane for taking on such a huge risk. “So specialized …” Rita had said. Teresa hadn’t talked to Rita since. Not one of them understood Teresa’s passion for cleanliness. But her Aunt Jessie, full of endless faith, had loaned Teresa the seed money for the store. She’d always been Teresa’s biggest fan.

It was a disappointment to Teresa that The Soap Store didn’t take off as she’d anticipated, but she’d managed to make it work anyway. She didn’t want Rita coming back around and saying, “I told you so.”

When Teresa allowed herself to think about it, she didn’t understand how she’d managed to stay in business for so long. She had even paid back her aunt, in full and with interest. Thank goodness for the Internet, which had been the best thing for her store, and lately produced more than enough revenue to make up for the loss of foot traffic at the mall. She might not be driving a Mercedes Benz, but Teresa had been a good provider for her son. Certainly better than her ex-husband with his never-seen child support checks.

Deep in thought, Teresa almost drove past the entrance to the mall where the soap store was located. She frowned when she turned her car into the parking lot and spotted a beat-up old sedan parked over the line, invading her favorite spot. Her hands squeezed the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white, and she drove past that vehicle toward the back of the lot, where she chose a corner space and parked diagonally to avoid door dings. Teresa’s car might be slightly aged but it was in excellent condition and she intended to keep it that way.

After she pulled her bag out of the back seat, Teresa wiped the door handle clean and dabbed at a spot on the side of her car. Clean as clean could be, it left her with a feeling of satisfaction until she looked around the lot. The asphalt was lined with pieces of trash—again. She’d have to call the landlord and get him out here to straighten up this mess. Barney’s Pub must’ve had another busy weekend. The bar was located on the other side of the parking lot, not attached to the neighborhood strip mall where Teresa’s soap store was located, but close enough to create disorder for the entire retail area.

A typical Monday.

Teresa walked the distance to the back door of her store with her keys in hand. She moved into the building quickly and heard the alarm beep as she ran to the keypad and punched in the code. Inside, she felt for the light switch along the wall in the dark back room and flipped the light on. Her heart fell to her toes.

Clutter everywhere. Shipping labels, boxes, and orders unfilled. The place looked as if it’d been ransacked. Her part-time help must’ve been in a hurry over the weekend.

A light blinked on the answering machine that sat on the desk in the corner of her makeshift office. For the moment, she ignored the chaos and walked through the room toward the machine, where she hit the play button on the antiquated device. The mechanical voice said, “You have three messages.”

Beep. “I’m looking for Teresa. It’s Sunday evening. My name is Father Benjamin. Please call me back at (310) 548-1100.”

Beep. “Hello, Teresa, are you there?” Teresa laughed at the sound of Aunt Jessie’s voice. For someone seemingly so young at sixty-two, the woman sure had a hard time with technology.

Beep. “Teresa, call me. These darn machines. Why isn’t your cell phone on?”

Teresa pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and pushed the call log button—three missed calls. It was unusual for her aunt to call her on all her phones. She picked up the landline and dialed her Aunt Jessie’s number.

“Hello.” Her Aunt Jessie had refused to get caller ID or call waiting on her phone service. If Teresa hadn’t insisted, she’d still be using a rotary dial.

“Aunt Jessie?” Teresa spoke. “It’s me, Teresa. What’s going on?”

“Teresita. My baby, hello.” Teresa’s aunt had a habit of yelling at the phone. “I want to talk to you. I need to see you.”

A rush of blood fell to the bottom of Teresa’s feet. The woman was like a mother to her. If anything happened to her aunt, Teresa didn’t know what she’d do.

“What’s going on, Aunt Jessie?” Teresa’s heart pounded in her ears.

“It’s about your father. Why don’t you step out for a while and come over to my house? I’ll explain,” she responded.

“My father?” Teresa’s head began to ache. She squeezed her jaw shut and felt her cheek muscles flex—her breathing sped up. “What’s going on? It’s been years …”

“Please, come over. I tried to catch you on your way to work so you wouldn’t have to backtrack. But you didn’t answer your phone.”

“Is that bastard finally dead?” The words flew from Teresa’s mouth.

“No, he’s not dead.” Her aunt sighed. “I need to explain.”

“Okay, Auntie.” Teresa put her hand on her forehead and exhaled. “Let me tie up some loose ends here, and I’ll be right over.”

“I’ll put on the coffee and see you in a little while, then,” her Aunt Jessie said. “Oh, and Teresa … mind your potty mouth.”

The sound of dial tone filled Teresa’s ear. She set the phone back in its cradle, walked to the front of the store, and stared out the window. She hadn’t seen her dad in over twenty years. Her last remembrances of him were awful and framed by that period of time she’d like to leave forgotten altogether.

The worst moment in her life was when her dad disappeared during her mother’s final days, a memory she hadn’t allowed herself to think about in ages. Oh, how she missed her mom. Her body constricted as she squeezed her hands shut and let the weight of her fists dangle at her side. Teresa closed her eyes, allowing a single tear to fall while her thoughts carried her back to the place she’d avoided for so many years.

She’d sat with her mom hour after hour, holding the cool washcloth on her mother’s forehead while the cancer and the chemo wreaked havoc on the poor woman’s frail body. Her mother remained continually awash with sweat, and hallucinating. Without an okay from the hospice nurse—who was gone for the night—the doctors wouldn’t prescribe any more pain medicine.

Teresa, at eighteen years of age and having recently buried her only sister, sat alone comforting her dying mother. She’d kept back the tears for her mother’s sake, and she’d repeatedly lied about her father hurrying on his way home.

She left her mom’s side for a quick second to make a frantic call to her Aunt Jessie. Teresa told Jessie her dad had gone to work as usual that morning but hadn’t shown up at the factory where she’d been trying to reach him all day long. Her aunt said Teresa shouldn’t call the police, that Jessie would look for him at the bars he frequented. Teresa’s aunt knew exactly where she would find her older brother.

A few hours later, Aunt Jessie arrived at the house with puffy red eyes and a ripped sleeve. She’d said Teresa’s dad was okay, and that he’d be home soon, but she refused to discuss the matter further. After that, Teresa and her Aunt Jessie had sat together with her mother until they both had fallen asleep sitting upright in the chairs next to her mother’s bed.

Then the following morning, Teresa found her dad in the front yard. He lay in a pile of vomit and smelled like a latrine. God only knew how he’d gotten home since the driveway was empty, and his car wasn’t parked on the street. Teresa had forgotten what was so important that morning that her aunt had to leave, but she remembered her aunt’s anger toward Teresa’s father. Teresa was given strict instructions to leave him in the yard.

“He’s alive. Let him wake up in his own filth.” And as her Aunt Jessie spoke, she stepped around her brother’s limp body and spat on him. “And don’t help him into the house. He needs to find himself in this mess. Maybe he’ll snap out of it.”

Now, thinking of that day so many years later, Teresa felt wetness run across her cheeks. She went to the mirror on the back wall of her store and examined her red eyes. Then she pulled the window cleaner from under the counter, put on her rubber gloves, and scrubbed the mirror. The energy he took … Just thinking about her father brought heaviness into her world along with the old feelings that she hated.

After a few minutes, she put down the cleaning fluid and pulled off her gloves. Teresa looked at her teeth in the mirror. Her investment in braces years before had paid off. She touched up her hair and wiped the streaks off her face.

What could be happening with her father now?

Shaking away thoughts of the past, Teresa moved to the cupboard in the front of the store and pulled out the Rolodex. Her fingers found the Ks for Kelly’s number (she never used last names because she couldn’t remember them). Kelly, her best part-timer, picked up after a single ring. Yes, she’d gladly open, clean up, and handle the day, “… no problem.”

As Teresa walked to her car, she stared down the dirty sedan in her parking place, as if it were a live human being who had kidnapped her firstborn. She snapped out of it when she realized how silly she was being. It was just a car. Teresa shook her head and chuckled to herself. “Stop it,” she whispered. The owner of that sedan was probably a patron of Barney’s Pub. The vehicle had most likely spent a night or two in the lot. It was better parked here than driven, though, if its owner had been drinking.

While Teresa drove toward Sepulveda Boulevard, her past continued to flood through her mind—more of the darkness. The accident that had taken her sister’s life came back like a tidal wave. Teresa’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.

She bent over her dash and looked up toward the sky. “What is this?” she asked, half expecting the sky to open up and swallow the car, with her in it.

She rubbed her left leg—remnants from the accident so many years ago. But she couldn’t be too ungrateful because the physical damage Teresa had sustained was minimal compared to Angela’s fate. A hit and run that the police, her mother, her aunt, her uncle, and, annoyingly enough—considering his own fate—her father, agreed had been caused by a drunk driver.

Witnesses claimed the car weaved in and out of traffic about two minutes before the accident. A dark sedan was the only description the police had to go on, and they never found the person who had run down Teresa and Angela.

Her entire body trembled while she thought about the past, and she forced herself back into the present. She loosened her grip on the steering wheel as she drove into the small community where her aunt lived. The neighborhood wasn’t as safe as it used to be, or as pleasantly middle class.

When the homes were built way back in the sixties, the small, three-bedroom bungalows must’ve looked identical or showed some type of continuity. Now, the styles and colors of the homes presented quite a mixed bag. Teresa thought that many of these folks either couldn’t afford the upkeep on their homes, or simply didn’t care. On one side of the street, in front of a house in need of painting, a yellow lawn was overrun with weeds. Next to that home sat a perfectly manicured yard surrounded by a white picket fence—the house displaying a recent addition of bars on the windows.