His Last Name (12 page)

C
HAPTER
24

Tiffany

D
amien didn't come home last night. I wasn't concerned at first. I figured he was just working late. That was until I called his job, and they said he was fired weeks ago.

Then I became worried and called and texted him all night. He didn't answer and didn't bother to come home until the next morning. He walked into the bathroom while I was applying my makeup and getting ready for work.

“Where were you? Why didn't you call?”

“I stopped and had a drink last night. I must have had too much. My phone had died. I'm sorry.”

“You spent the night out, didn't call me, and all you can say is that you are sorry?”

“You're right. I should have called. But I was upset because I didn't sell a car yesterday. I think I might even quit that job. It's not how I thought it was going to be.”

“You might quit?” I repeated after him. Though I already knew the truth, I allowed him to ramble on with more lies.

“Yeah. So, after work I had about five or six shots of Jameson with Terry from the dealership. I was done. You know that always puts me on my back. I slept it off on his sofa. You know, I damn sure don't need another DUI and make the news again. Then his wife woke me up and I came on home.” I kept applying my blush. Then I noticed red marks that resembled passion marks on his neck.

“Damien, you were fired weeks ago and you have red marks all over your neck. So do you want to start your story over again? As a matter of fact, don't worry about it. I have to go to work. When I get home, you can tell me what really happened.”

I was ten minutes late, and I didn't care. These people clocked in like their life depended on it. God forbid they were a minute late and reprimanded by the big boss. The big boss could come out of his office and question me if he wanted to. I wasn't in a good mood and wasn't about to explain why I was a little tardy. My day only got worse when Shanae came over to my desk and shouted, “Girl, why didn't you tell me your husband is Damien Holcomb? Why are you working here? I heard of rich wives having jobs for fun, but come on, girl. Tell me you don't need this job. I know your man filed bankruptcy, but your man was worth all those millions.”

“Please be quiet.”

“Be quiet for what? You should be proud of who your husband is.”

“No, I'm not.”

“Okay, I get it. The millionaire next door. Working just to get out of the house. I won't tell anyone. It's our secret.” She winked at me, and the moment she left my cubicle I packed up my stuff and walked out of my job.

I wanted to cry, but tears wouldn't come out. I was depleted of any emotion. Too much had happened. My husband was cheating. He was jobless. And so was I. And we were still broke.

I pulled up to Starbucks and ordered a venti Frappuccino with caramel. What's another five dollars spent when you owe millions? I reached into my pocket and handed the barista twenty dollars, when I noticed my emergency credit card in the back of my wallet. It was as if I found gold. My entire disposition changed.

For months I had felt starved and deprived of the finer things in life, but not anymore. I treated myself to a delicious meal at Fernando's. I loved their surf and turf lunch with truffle fries. From there, I went shopping for shoes and picked up a few dresses. Then I got pampered with a massage, manicure, and pedicure. After it was all done, I felt guilty and had no idea how I would pay the huge credit card bill at the end of the month, but I also didn't care. It felt good to be my old self, even if it was only for a few hours.

I was back at my house, and it was time to face Damien again and conceal my overindulgences. He wasn't home and I was happy I would be able to hide everything. I stepped in the house, turned the lights on, and nothing happened. I flicked the switch in a few rooms. Nothing. I dialed Damien's phone.

“Damien, there is something wrong with the lights. They are all off. Is the electric on?”

“It might have got cut off. It's sixteen hundred, but they said they were going to give me a few more days. Hold on, let me see what's going on. Don't worry, I'll handle it.” I hung up and instantly I felt sad and depressed standing in the dark. All the joy from my shopping spree was gone. I cried and then I did the only thing I could think to do. I called my mother.

“Mom, so I do need that loan.”

“What are you talking about, Tiffany?”

“You said you would loan me money. Our electric is cut off. We need sixteen hundred dollars. Can you transfer it into my account?”

“No, I'm sorry, I can't help you. When someone offers to give you money, you take it.”

“But, Mom, things are really bad now. Last week we were okay.”

“Tiffany, get out of there while you still can. You have weeks to move out the house before they come and take it. He has all that debt, not you. Don't you know it is not going to get any better? It's downhill from here. Do you understand this is your new life? Despair, misery, and poverty. Forever. I told you from the beginning: marry a doctor, an attorney—even engineers make decent money—but you had to have a fast-talking New Yorker with a football in his hand. You should have married Warren. He was a football player, but one with a future. I was watching television the other day and saw a preview for his next movie. That's the guy you should have chosen. Not Damien—he was never good enough for you. He didn't come from a good home and that's the reason you weren't blessed with children, because God knew this union wouldn't last, and you deserved better.”

“Mom, please, I don't want to discuss anything else. Just help me.”

“No, I will not, and good luck.” My mother hung up on me and I began to cry. Suddenly the lights came back on and Damien was calling. He said he paid them and made an arrangement on our back bill.

* * *

Damien came in and tried to have a one-on-one with me, but there wasn't anything that he could say that would make up for cheating and not paying our bills. I told him to leave me alone and sleep in the guest room.

At three a.m., my mother's voice awoke me: “Despair, poverty, and misery. It's downhill from here . . .” kept repeating in my head. I tried to turn her voice off, but what if she was right? What if it got worse? This isn't how I was raised. Damien had grown up poor, but I hadn't. My mother made sure we didn't have to juggle bills or dodge shut-off notices.

I walked down the hall to the guest room. It reeked of cheap alcohol. Damien's body was hanging halfway off the bed and throw-up was splattered on the floor. At the moment right there, I knew I didn't have a choice. I had to leave him. I wasn't being callous or selfish. I had to protect myself. It's called self-preservation. He didn't even know where we were going to move to. And I was certain that I would not be there to witness the bank kick him out. As my decision became clearer, I felt a sense of relief take over. No more bruised ego to try to repair, no more hard times, and no more cheating husband. I deserved better.

I packed and left him a note explaining why I'd left him. I got in my car and left my old life behind. I waited until I was in Virginia before I called my mother.

“Mom, I should be home in another three hours or so.”

“You are coming home? Are you alone?”

“Yes, I left Damien.”

C
HAPTER
25

Shanice

“N
o, don't hit me! Don't hit me! I wasn't talking to any man, he is just a guy I went to school with!” It was my mother crying. She was asking for my help and her boyfriend was standing over her. We were back in the apartment I grew up in. He saw me and told me to go back to bed. I was a grown woman and instead of listening to him, I picked up a shoe and started bashing him in his head. He was bleeding from everywhere, his eyes and his ears. As he bled, I took my mother's hand, and we rushed out of the apartment to a motorcycle and rode off. Then I woke up. I had just had another dream about my mother. Her coming home caused so much uneasiness. All these years later I was still carrying so much guilt. I felt guilty for not being there to protect her the night she killed her boyfriend. A few days earlier she had finally left him and we were staying with Aunt Rhonda. We were safe and it felt like everything was going to be okay, but one day while I was at school she went back to get some more of our clothes. She thought he was at work, but he wasn't. He attacked her for the final time and left in a body bag. I guess she couldn't take him hitting her anymore. She pled guilty to murder and went straight from the county jail to prison.

Aunt Rhonda and I wrote her, but she would never respond and she refused visits. I prayed that her spirit wasn't broken and that she would be able to handle life after prison.

I had everything ready for her. Just as he said he would, Deuce helped me get a house. He paid the rent for the year, and his agent was going to help me build my credit so I could buy my own house.

The four-bedroom house Deuce rented was in the suburbs of Philadelphia. It was in a good, quiet area, but also accessible by bus since my mom and aunt didn't drive. Raven could come over and have her own room. I felt like a real adult because I decorated the house all by myself. I wanted my mom to be able to come home and relax. I contacted her parole officer and gave him my address. They had to come and inspect my house before she came home. I let Aunt Rhonda move in, and she tried her hardest to say that she wasn't coming unless Ayana and Courtney came, too. I shut that down immediately. I was not about to have Courtney in my house. Once Aunt Rhonda saw the house, she changed her tune and asked if Ayana would be able to spend the night. I told her I didn't have a problem with that.

Courtney brought her over to move the last of her things in. “This is nice, Shani. My mom was so happy. She said she thought she was going to die in that apartment, and that your mom thought she was going to die in jail.”

“What?”

“No, she told my mom that. For all of us to be together again is just great.”

“Yeah. It is. And tomorrow we pick her up?”

We waited outside the prison gates. I don't know who cried more, my mom, Aunt Rhonda, or me. When Trisha walked toward me, I bawled like a baby. She looked like the same lady I remembered, but just older with gray hair. I did something I never thought I would be able to do again—I got to hug my mom. She held me and I held her and we sobbed. She broke away from the hug and said, “My baby girl is all grown up. Look at you. You are beautiful.”

“She is just like you, Trisha,” Aunt Rhonda said as she went and hugged her sister and took her one plastic bag. We all got in the car and rode away from that horrible place that had held my mother for two decades. My mom sat in the front of the car in silence, and her eyes drifted as we traveled down the mountainside highway.

“Trish, what do you want to eat?” Aunt Rhonda asked.

“McDonalds. I've been dreaming about McDonalds.”

“That should be easy. There's one at every rest stop.” At the McDonalds, she devoured two Quarter Pounders with cheese, French fries, and two large Cokes.

She needed new clothes, so we stopped at the mall on our way home. My mom looked around and seemed like she was scared.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

She looked around and then spoke. “It seems like everyone is walking so fast and on their phone and everything is just so busy.”

“Yeah, that's true.”

“Things are so different. I have to take a class and catch up and learn how to use the phone.”

“It's easy to use a cell phone. You'll get the hang of it. Let's get you one right now.”

“I can get one right from the store?”

“Yes.”

Trish was amazed by her new phone, but she was really in love with her new house and room. She was so thankful for her own space. I had to tell her to stop thanking me.

After her parole officer left, my mom ate again and took a long bath, came out, and fell onto the bed. I placed the covers over her and watched her sleep. I remembered when I was a little girl. After she got beat up, I would be her lookout as she rested. When he would come in the house, I would wake her.

Aunt Rhonda walked in and gave me a hug.

“Shanice, get some rest. You did a good job. She's home, and she's happy. I'll make us a big breakfast in the morning.”

The next morning Aunt Rhonda was peeling potatoes at the table with Trisha. I took the moment to ask my mom the one question I hadn't asked her that I wanted to know most.

“Mom, how come you didn't call or write me? Why would you shut down all contact with the family?”

“I didn't want to hold anyone up with their life. I prayed for you every day. I prayed for Rhonda and Courtney, and I hoped one day I would see you again.” She brought tears to my eyes. I was mad at her for years. I didn't pray for her because she left me. I was angry that she went back to him. I was mad because I didn't have any family. I didn't know if my dad was dead or he was still walking the street.

“It was hard for me to deal with life. You have to understand that I killed the man I loved, my daughter's father, and my abuser.”

“He was my dad?”

“Yes.”

“Where is the rest of our family?”

“We don't have any family. Just me and Rhonda. Our mother dropped us off at the foster home when we were three and four. I didn't answer your letters, but I got every one. I was mad at myself, for being there. I wanted better for you, and then I let you down and couldn't face you. I was your mother and it was my job to raise you and I failed you.”

“I didn't feel that way. I just wanted to talk and see you.”

“I did fail you. That's why you have to get your daughter back. Rhonda told me she lives with her grandmom. She has to grow up with you. We have to break the cycle. I will get me a job, and so will Rhonda. We were talking, and you don't have to take care of us. I want you to take care of her.”

“Mom, you just got home. Don't worry about Raven. She's doing real good with her grandmom and granddad. She goes to a private school and I see her a lot. I travel too much for her to live with me. I can't make sure she does her homework and gets up for school from another city, while I'm out here trying to make money.”

“All the money in the world can't buy you any time back. Trust me, I know. You have to get your daughter.”

“Mom, I'll think about it. You have to get adjusted to being back out here. And I'll handle the rest.”