Heaven Right Here (23 page)

Authors: Lutishia Lovely

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Literary, #United States, #African American, #Christian, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Fiction, #Literary Fiction

BOOK: Heaven Right Here

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Believe That

Hope sat on the couch looking at her stomach. “I can’t believe there’s a baby in here. And I’m getting big so fast!”

“I never thought I’d see the day where my cuz was actually excited about gaining weight!” Hope gave her an exasperated look. “But I admit, you better slow down on those Oreos, or you’ll still be carrying baby weight when the child goes to college!”

“Oh, hell to the no,” Hope countered. “Cy’s already agreed to give me a personal trainer as a baby-mama present. I’ve got to get back into my size sixes when this is over.”

“You will, girl. I’m just jerking your chain. You know I’m happy for you.”

Hope noticed a hint of sadness under Frieda’s carefree attitude. “What about you? Are you happy?”

“You know how I roll: can’t let nothing get you down, and if it does, you can’t stay there.”

“How is it with you and Shabach?”

“Cool, I guess. He’s been spending a lot more time in LA since getting me the apartment. The closest thing I’ve had to a steady since Giorgio.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“You know a girl can’t feel too tied down. He’s been hangin’ on a sistah like he’s got papers.”

“I know you always say otherwise, but, Frieda, don’t you want to get married, have children? And please don’t get defensive, because I’m not judging your lifestyle. But ever since I’ve known you, especially since we reconnected almost five years ago, it’s been one man after another. When you were with Giorgio, I thought maybe he was the one. And then before his plane had left California airspace, it was on to Jonathan. And now it seems like you’re hot and heavy with Shabach, but at the same time, concerned that he might want to get serious. Isn’t that what you want, to find a man who will be your one and only?”

“One and only can cost too much sometimes,” Frieda said in a rare reflective and serious moment. “Plus, I learned a long time ago to protect the heart at all costs.”

“But what happened to make you so calloused toward love?”

Frieda looked at Hope a long moment. Then she got up from the couch and walked to the patio doors that offered a full view of the Pacific Ocean.

“There’s something I never told you,” she began with her back to Hope. “Never told anybody.”

Hope watched as her friend’s shoulders went up and down with a deep breath. Frieda kept looking straight ahead, away from Hope.

“I was raped.”

It was said so softly, Hope wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.

“Frieda, did you say you were raped?”

Frieda nodded her head. “By a friend’s older brother when I was eleven. He was twenty, and I thought he was cute. Had a schoolgirl crush on him, you might say. He used to give me candy and tell me I was pretty—one of the first men ever to do so. One day I went over to my friend’s house. She wasn’t home, but he was there. Told me I could come in and wait for her. He complimented me on my outfit, told me I was rockin’ my acidwashed mini and rainbow-colored tube top. When he asked me to sit next to him and watch videos, I was so happy. And when he asked me to come up to his room and get a mixed tape he’d made of my favorites—Janet Jackson, Lisa Lisa, and my boy Bobby—man, I was in seventh heaven. Little did I know I was actually climbing the stairs to hell.”

“And you didn’t feel you could tell your mom or anybody?”

Frieda turned around then, her eyes dry and vacant. “That’s just it, Hope. I enjoyed it. Even though it hurt when he penetrated me the first time, sex felt good to me from the beginning. He said if I told anybody, I’d be sent off to a girls’ home, and he would go to jail. But more than the threat was the feeling of acceptance. He told me he loved me, that I was beautiful and more mature than the other girls. No man had told me I was beautiful before. A part of me knew what we were doing was wrong, but the bigger part of me felt it was worth it to make me feel good about myself. By the time I was fifteen, we had stopped messing with each other, but he’d shown me the ropes. I quickly discovered that sex was a powerful weapon, and with it, I could get almost anything I wanted.”

“Except happiness.” Hope stood and hugged Frieda.

Frieda shook off the moment of vulnerability and returned to her sarcastic self. “You know what, girl, happiness is my bills paid, money in the bank, and a big dick between my legs—real talk. Happiness is being in control instead of letting some nuckah control me. That’s why I have to get a handle on Shabach’s ass. Make him understand I’m the one who handles my business. No one else.”

“But true love isn’t about that, Frieda. True love is give and take.”

“Girl, you know I don’t believe in that true-love, soap-opera, happily-ever-after, fairy-tale bullshit. But I will say this though: if Shabach plays his cards right, we can roll deuce for a long minute. ’Cause the man knows how to please a woman, has hella paper, and looks good to wake up to. Yeah, I’ll keep ’Bach in my bed if he acts right, believe that.”

Take Care

Two weeks after their meeting, Derrick’s words proved prophetic. The March issue of
LA Gospel
printed a week early. A smiling, debonair Darius was on the front page. Underneath was the caption in bold black letters:
GOSPEL SENSATION CAUGHT IN SIN SCANDAL
!

Darius’s publicist worked overtime doing damage control by conducting interviews and submitting counter press releases to the statements from various “anonymous sources” who had provided information to the
National Enquirer, Charisma
magazine, and
Gospel Today,
among others. Following the advice of his attorney, Darius had answered every question thrown his way with a terse “No comment.” In order to insulate himself from the more jarring personal intrusions, he’d canceled all but the largest concerts and enclosed himself in the studio to work on his third album release.

That’s where he was when Stacy called.

“Darius. I just read
LA Gospel.
What is going on?”

“Definitely not what they’re saying in that article.”

“I didn’t believe it for a moment, Darius. You’ll barely even
be
with a woman, so to rape one? Uhuh. But I’ve seen you a couple times since New Year’s. You didn’t say anything.”

“I figured you had enough problems to deal with.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Fight back; it’s the only thing I can do.”

“Can you tell me who it is?”

“It’s Melody Anderson.”

“Oh, my goodness, not Miss High-and-Mighty Bernadette Anderson’s child.”

“The one and only.”

“Oh, Darius. I am so sorry. That woman can’t stand you.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“But wait. She knows you’re gay, so why would she believe you’ve been with Melody?”

“Obviously where her mother is concerned, Melody’s word is gospel. You didn’t know?”

“The article said there was a tape going around. Have you seen it?”

“No, it’s still pretty underground. But one of Bo’s connections is supposed to have a copy by the weekend. I can’t wait to get my hands on it so it can help my case. Hopefully this will be the evidence I need to be fully exonerated. It’s not me in that video, Stacy.”

“I wonder who it is?”

“Maybe a classmate, another church member, who knows? But I’m not taking the fall for whoever it is, trust me on that. I’m not going to jail over this bullshit. I’m innocent. And so is whoever was in the room with her that night.”

“How do you know that?”

Darius told Stacy about the note that had led him into the lion’s den.

“It’s a good thing you kept it,” Stacy said when he’d finished.

“Yeah, I gave a copy to Bo, made a couple more copies, and put the original in a deposit box. It might end up being my ticket to freedom out of this madness.”

“Darius, I know you didn’t do this, and it goes without saying that I’m praying for you. Let me know if there’s something I can do.”

“Thanks, Stacy. I’m praying for you too. How are the treatments coming?”

“Thank God I have only two more weeks to go. Radiation is nothing nice, and fortunately my doctor believes I can stop after the fifth week. At least I don’t have to do the full-blown chemotherapy and lose my hair. As it is, I’m nauseous, tired all the time, and have bouts with diarrhea. But it could be worse, so I’m just grateful things are as well as they are. And the nursing assistant you hired to come help me is a huge help. I really appreciate it, Darius.”

“I told you, Stacy, I want to always make sure the mother of my child is taken care of.”

“Well, it looks like you need to focus on taking care of yourself.”

“Oh, I’m going to do that,” Darius said with firm resolve. “I’ve worked too long and too hard to get where I’m going. And I don’t believe God has brought me this far to leave me.”

I’m Okay Now

The ringing phone pulled Stacy from what felt like layers and layers of thick fog. She’d been dreaming, something about a playground full of kids and big birds swooping down and carrying the kids away in the clutches of their large, wrinkled claws. One was flying toward little Darius. She was trying to reach her son before the bird did. Then the phone rang.

“Hello?” she asked in a voice filled with sleep.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve obviously awakened you.”

“It’s okay. Who is this?”

“Stacy, it’s Dr. Livingston. I’m calling to see how you’re doing and to answer any questions you might be having about your treatment.”

Stacy sat up, still trying to clear the birds out of her brains. “Oh, thanks for calling, doctor. I’m doing okay, just really tired. And sometimes I feel congested but not quite like it’s a cold.” She repeated the other symptoms that she’d shared with Darius.

“All of what you’ve described are normal side effects of this type of treatment,” Dr. Livingston explained. “You may also experience dryness in the area where the radiation is being focused. Should that happen, please let me know, and I will prescribe a special type of cream to help alleviate that discomfort. I also wanted to let you know that once you’ve healed from the lumpectomy procedure, you may be interested in having reconstructive surgery. You were fortunate in that only a small amount of tissue was removed, a void that can be effectively camouflaged with padded bras. But you’re a young woman with a long life ahead of you. I just want you to be aware of all your options.”

“I appreciate it, doctor. Actually I haven’t been thinking about too much of anything lately besides getting through this radiation treatment. Once I recuperate from that and have some time to just feel normal again, I’ll probably be more open to additional surgeries.”

“That’s totally understandable, Stacy. I just want you to know you are doing extremely well. I’m proud of how you’ve handled this whole crisis.”

Stacy lay back against her pillow. She wasn’t as concerned with how well she was handling the crisis as she was in knowing the crisis would truly be over.

“Doctor, what are the chances of the—of me having to go through this again?”

“That’s something that can’t be diagnosed, unfortunately. I will tell you this, however. Chances for any type of disease can be diminished by a healthy diet and state of mind and by regular visits to the doctor. We’ll talk more about that on your next visit. For now, just concentrate on getting better.”

“Thank you so much for calling, Dr. Livingston. Your encouragement makes me feel better. Hey, do doctors still make house calls?”

The doctor laughed. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Stacy. But do call the hospital if you have any questions or need to combat issues dealing with the dry skin that may develop in the area being treated. Okay?”

“Okay, doctor. Good night.”

Stacy had barely put her phone down when it rang again. She looked at the number and smiled. “What’s up, Tony?”

“Not you, from the sound of it. Are you asleep already, woman? It’s just now eight o’clock.”

“I was, but I’m up now,” Stacy said. She got out of bed and headed downstairs. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve got this little situation I’m trying to figure out, and I could use some womanly advice.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. See somebody at the church has been leaving notes on my car, little flirty one-liners and whatnot. At first there was a lipstick kiss on it or perfume sprayed on. But tonight they upped the ante. I came outside, and there was a pair of thong panties on my windshield!”

“Tonight? After bible study?”

“Yep. So now I’m trying to figure out whether the person is an admirer or a stalker.”

“Sounds like a little of both. C’mon, now, Tony. You’ve got to have some idea of who it might be.”

“Not really. I thought it might be your friend Tanya, but then I heard she was dating one of the dudes who works security.”

A thought occurred to Stacy but was forgotten once she looked in her refrigerator. “Dangit!”

“Don’t go getting upset now. I’m not worried about it. Not yet anyways.”

“No, it’s not that. My brothers have been over here and ate up all the food.”

“Oh, okay. So what do you think I should do?”

“About what?”

“About finding out whose putting notes on my car.”

“I don’t know. Maybe speak to security, talk with Greg, have the guys keep an eye out for you. Or else you could leave a note on your windshield for her, along with your phone number, and tell her to call.”

“I don’t think I have anything to say to a churchgoing woman who’d leave panties on my hood.”

“C’mon, Tony. For the father of two children, you sure are sounding like a prude.”

“No, but I’m not the man I was back in those days. I handle things differently now, or at least I’m trying to.”

“That’s good, Tony. It really is. But look, I gotta go. I’m feeling weak and need to scramble up something to eat.”

After washing her face and brushing her teeth, Stacy called Tanya to check on her son. She looked for something to eat but, not finding anything, decided to drink a large glass of orange juice and go back to bed. She was midway up the stairs when her doorbell rang.

She smiled, instantly knowing who it was.
Tony—so thoughtful.
It didn’t look like a romance would ever develop between them, but it was nice to have male friends.

“Hey, there . . . oh! Doctor Livingston?”

“Just wanted you to know that sometimes doctors do still make house calls. May I come in?”

“Of course,” Stacy said, her mind reeling. She never thought the doc would take her serious and end up in her living room!

“I know you’re resting, so I’m not going to stay long. It just so happened that an errand I needed to run put me near your house.” He walked over to Stacy, looked in her eyes, felt her neck and pulse, asked her to open her mouth, and then nodded. “You’re doing well. Are you still nauseous?”

“It comes and goes. I’m okay right now.”

“Good. You also may want to limit the amount of dairy products you ingest right now. That could lower the mucous that sometimes builds up as a result of the radiation. And you may want to consider that a long-term goal—limiting both your dairy and meat intake. Build your diet around green, leafy vegetables and lots of fruit. A great diet and steady exercise program will go a long way toward maintaining optimum health.”

“I appreciate that, doctor, but God is who I look to for my well-being.”

“Is that so? Then why didn’t you schedule an appointment with Him instead of coming to the hospital?”

“What, you don’t believe in God?”

“I believe in a Higher Power, but, no, I am not religious. Listen, I’m not against religion, I just think we are the masters of our destiny and play a big role in how our lives look. It certainly wouldn’t hurt for you to add these sensible exercises to your faith, would it?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Good.” The doctor stood. “I’ll be going now. Continue to get good rest and we’ll see you next week.”

The doctor walked to the door while Stacy turned her back to adjust her robe.

“Oh, excuse me,” he said as he opened the door.

Oh, that’s Tanya with my son.
Seeing Darius Jr. always made her happy. She turned around with a smile on her face.

“Tony! What are you doing here?”