of her pregnancy. The woman had come to our apartment and asked my mother to look after Rochelle, saying that she was moving to Arizona with her new husband. I’d often wondered what Rochelle really thought of that whole thing, but what did it matter? She would have done anything to be with Jordan then, and anything to be rid of him now.
Maybe she regretted it. Not Jericho, but loving Jordan so hard. She would have died for him then. In truth, she had died for him. We all did. I’d just pretended to live so as not to hurt my mother’s feelings. Wasn’t losing one child enough? And he wasn’t any ordinary child.
Neither was I, I realize now, but survival clouded my greatness in a haze of coping routines—prayer with Rochelle, cooking with Daddy, hanging with Adrian, talking to Tracey, staying out of Mama’s way, babysitting Jericho and when I could, riding like the wind on my motorcycle. Our place was one big pile of crazy, a place that only my true friends understood.
And of all my friends, Adrian was the truest. Even once he was staying with his grandfather across town, he could pick up my vibe on the phone and jet right over on his moped or even take the dreaded Leverhill transit bus if that’s what rescuing me required. He told me years later that he’d been saving himself, too. Our family, our fireworks of emotions, was a welcome change to the sterility of his uptown world.
Now standing here on the landing outside his apartment, I wondered who would save him this time? I’d had my chance and fumbled the ball. Tracey was the next natural choice, but from her e-mails, she could use a little salvation herself. Not that she and Ryan didn’t love each other.
But was love alone enough? Even in the best of matches, you’re still marrying a stranger. And sometimes they’re stranger than you thought. I hadn’t tied the knot myself, but I’d watched it choke plenty of folks, all the while wondering if it would have been like that between me and Adrian.
Today, I realized that no matter how close people are to one another, there’s always a place—a secret place—that only God can see. A place that folks don’t know exists until it’s too late. Some people know about it, but they stuff it with all the wrong things and when they open it, like Pandora’s box, it unleashes devastation on their relationships. I now know my box was stuffed with fear. And Adrian’s? Chock full of memories of his mother’s schizophrenic screams and his father’s powerlessness. All the words he’d never said, tears he’d never cried. They were there waiting….
And Sandy? The years he’d spent mourning her were just the beginning. She’d always be a part of him and though it was hard for me to admit sometimes, she’d made Adrian a better man and me a better woman. The question was, where did I fit in now?
Not in Tangela’s wedding dress to be sure. Spring was a few months away. The usual post-wedding rings around my waist and hips would be permanent after a few hours in that thing.
Maybe she won’t go through with it.
With Tracey’s wedding, I’d thought the same silly thing. But she had gone through with it, just like she kept going to the personal trainer after I quit, met her Weight Watchers goal while I was at home staring at “come back and see us” coupons. She’d even turned Ryan into marriage material with her quiet diligence.
“Are you going to sit out here or what? We’re freezing in the car.” Rochelle held the banister of Adrian’s stairwell.
I shrugged, then started the journey down. Tracey was definitely the one to help Adrian.
It was a finisher he needed.
The bell over the door at Wonderfully Made shrilled the announcement of a visitor, but I didn’t even raise my head. It’d been a long day of intermittent chimes, signaling a trail of sniffers and lookie-loos, but no buyers.
Not one.
The day Rochelle had come to report the loss of my local accounts had been the beginning of what I’d chosen to call “The New Year Slump”, for lack of a better name. Christmas had been a blur of all-night basket sessions and last-minute super sales, but since then, my customers seemed to have disappeared. As bad as it’d been though, I’d never had a day like today. A no-sale day.