The Fight Within (10 page)

Colin reared back and punched him in the shoulder, setting off another avalanche of more playful warfare.

“Ma! Help!” his brother cried out in faux angst. Their mother didn’t budge, nor look in their general direction.

“He’s overpowerin’ me!” the guy squealed, trying to elicit sympathy as they rolled about in pretend mortal combat. “See! He’s on those damn star-roids, Ma! I told ya sooooo!”

*

Treasure felt like
recreating the scene from the movie, ‘Waiting to Exhale,’ Angela Basset style. She stood there in her coveted burgundy satin robe, the streetlights illuminating her spot just so as the trash in front of her home loomed before her like the ghost of Christmas past. Billy Joel’s, ‘Stiletto’ could be faintly heard coming from her house. She assumed Asia was playing it since she had gotten on some oldies kick. The unsightly mass rose high, big and bold like some enormous, dark, nasty monster that had been vomited out the mouth of the angry full moon. Then, the big, burly celestial bitch that ruled the evening sky cast it at her feet, making her ill from the sight of it all.

It was finally finished.

All of ‘Action Jackson’s’ shit sat on the damn curb, along with the memories of ‘what once was’. She’d purged the house, every nook and cranny, so very sick and tired of finding his wares sprawled here and there, taking her out of her comfort zone. Just when she’d thought she’d gotten rid of the whole mess, all reminders of his existence within her world, she’d find an old pair of his socks here and there, a half empty bottle of expensive cologne under a bathroom cabinet, and a discarded set of golf clubs pushed in the corner of a long forgotten closet. She’d even discovered a collection of faded T-shirts with childish slogans from his Morehouse college years written across them. So, month after month, she’d toss these findings, but this time, she went through the house from top to bottom, sick of dragging this thing out.

It was the perfect evening for a bonfire, but she had no doubts her neighbors wouldn’t appreciate such a display, despite her twitching fingers to hold a match and red canister, recently empty from the act of freshly poured gasoline. No, such spectacles would have to stay on the silver screen. This was real life, with real costs, so she pushed the fantasies behind her, just like the trash before her.

“Mom,” Asia called out, standing at the front door in her pale pink pajama shorts with matching spaghetti strapped top. “What are you doing?”

“Just setting the trash out, honey. I’ll be in in a second.” She tossed her daughter a quick grin and placed her hand on her hip.

“Okay.” Yawning, the girl closed the door and disappeared from sight.

Brian was spending the night over at his best friend’s house and Asia had a dance audition in the morning. The fourteen-year-old was nothing but a bundle of nerves, and oh how she remembered those days. She’d fixed her daughter some tea an hour earlier, made the girl drink it, and told her to relax and try to get some shuteye. She knew Asia would do fantastic. The girl was a natural. Ballet was in her blood after all; Treasure had been a dancer in high school, too. Turning her back, she walked away from the monstrosity piled high, a mass seemingly trying to reach the clouds, it stood so tall. A feeling of great satisfaction steeped itself within her soul, like an assortment of fragrant, rich tealeaves dipped in boiling water. As she opened the massive, white front door and disappeared inside her abode, the sense of relief washed over her like a light sprinkling of rain.

I want no trace of you around me. Not your clothing, not your words, not your lies and broken promises, either. You said vows, but only one of us meant it. Get out of my house. Get out of my life. Get out of my mind and stay out of my heart. I don’t want you in here, ever again…

*

“Those sons of
bitches!” Treasure yelled as Asia disappeared on the bus, protected from her curses as the noisy, large yellow vehicle journeyed down the street farting out copious, gray exhaust fumes for her to choke to death on. She’d played it cool while the girl stood there, but oh, she’d seen it. Treasure glared at the unpicked trash before snatching off an odd bright orange note stuck on the side of the trashcan, waving ever so slightly in the stinky breeze. Someone had handwritten some crap about weight and protocol and some other bullshit. She burst into her house, enraged that Jackson still ‘lived’ there, for he was the cause of all of this aftermath. He was out on the curb, but he was still
there
, haunting and taunting her, mocking, laughing in her damn face under the glare of the morning sunlight. The trash had grown large yellowed eyes and leered at her before she’d left it, as if to say,
I’m still here, bitch! Hahahaha!

The moon hadn’t kissed that shit goodbye at all; rather, it said, ‘See you tomorrow…or perhaps the following week, my Love.’

She grabbed her phone and searched for the sanitation department number, trying to keep her cool so she could concentrate. After locating it, she immediately dialed the damn thing, almost cracking a nail in her torment.

“Yes, this is Ms. Chambers on Lyons Place. This morning I received a note from one of the trashy people. I mean,” she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “…one of the trash
collectors
, and it states that my garbage was left on the curb due to weight violations. I had no knowledge of this, and now, my trash is still out there and I have no way to bring it all back in. It can’t stay out there all week. I need another resolution.”

“Ma’am, let me transfer you to—”

“No, I don’t want to be transferred. I want someone to please come out here and get this trash!” Standing in her parlor, she pointed toward her open front door. “With as high as my property taxes are, and HOA fees, you’d think you all could do this, just this
one
time! I’ve
never
had a lot of trash in front of my house, and the one time I do, it’s just left there, and I’m not even given a warning as a courtesy.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry about the inconvenience. I need to put you on hold and transfer you.” Before she could protest, she was listening to an instrumental karaoke version of Liza Minnelli’s, ‘Cabaret’.

Treasure huffed and resolved herself to the fact that chances were slim this would turn in her favor. Arguing with these red tape folks never went well. She and Brian would be hauling all of that crap back into the garage. She’d no doubt have to hear all of his mumbling and complaining along the way, too. Six minutes later, a man that clearly didn’t give a fraction of a damn got on the line, working on a wad of gum with brute oral force.

“Ms. Chambers, this is Mr. Duncan. How are you?”

“…Covered in trash.” she said coolly.

“Yeah, uh, sorry about that. It looks like our employee left a warning two weeks ago, though.”

“I received no warning.” She lifted her chin high, cast her glance back out the front door and winced at the ugly sight.

“Well, when he got back here, he left a copy in the bin…”

“It must’ve fallen off, I received no warning,” she repeated.

“Well, we can’t have someone pick up the trash. You’ll have tuh wait ’til next week. Typically, as long as everything is bagged up properly, the weight rules are ignored, but you can’t have un-bagged and unboxed materials just lying about. It is dangerous for our workers, Ms. Chambers.”

“Yes, Lord knows the dangers and perils to sanitation workers here in Westchester County is high! All over the worldwide news, they interrupt tales of muggings, gang related violence, and grisly murders to break out with stories about a hangnail one of your sanitation engineers received out here on the mean, dangerous streets of Larchmont Manor. It’s merciless mayhem, I tell ya!”

“Alright, all that’s not really necessary, Ms. Chambers,” he said lazily between more obnoxious chews.

“Look,” she rolled her eyes, “I will have to take care of this on my own I see, but please know, I’m beyond disappointed. It’s not like I have a history of this. If I’d seen a note last week or the previous one, I would have definitely paid attention to it. I am not that sort of person.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Chambers. It’s nothing personal, but rules are rules.”

“Yes, I can hear how heartbroken you are over the entire matter. I’m certain you’ll toss and turn all night about it…and stop smacking in my ear. You sound like a damn cow!” She quickly disconnected the call and made a mad dash up her steps to her bedroom. Thrusting the door open, she let it bang against the wall, then marched to her dresser drawers and pulled out a pair of taupe leggings and an old white V-neck T-shirt. She had no time to wait for Brian to return after school. Besides, knowing him, he’d loiter about and not get home until dinnertime. The mess couldn’t sit there all day, and she had an important client coming over in an hour to sign a contract. What would it look like for an Interior Designer to have trash piled high like Mt. Everest in front of her estate? Who would trust her with their most prized possession, the roof over their head, after seeing such a sight? Cursing under her breath, she paused and shot herself a look in the damn mirror, a beautiful piece framed in silver, but her mood was bordered in angst.

The trash isn’t the only thing that stinks! What a messed up day, and it’s only eight in the damn morning!

‡