Life's A Cappella (10 page)

No, the tension was back. There wouldn’t be a resurrection for me, I thought, my tears already drying.

After some time had passed, Sofia pulled me away from her and looked me in the eyes. “
Ya, no mas
,” she told me. “Our Camilla was a happy girl and wouldn’t want us making such a fuss.” I nodded at her and she took me by the arm and led me back into the funeral home. “We celebrate her life, no?” she asked, and I agreed with another nod of my head.

Sofia held on to me and kept me close to her throughout the night. I wasn’t sure if she wanted me by her side because she was worried about me or because she found the same bit of comfort in me that I found in her. I hoped for the latter, that we were each other’s anchor during such tumultuous weather.

Long after the sun had set and most people had left, I found myself apprehensive to leave Camilla or Sofia. Leaving either felt wrong, a form of two-faced deception I didn’t want to be a part of.

“Your young man is waiting for you,” Sofia told me, nodding her head towards Trent.

“I don’t want to go,” I told her and felt childish.

“
Mi niña
,” she said, touching my face. She then took hold of my hand and led me to Trent. “Take her home,” she told him.

“No, but—”

“You need rest,” she said cutting me off, leaving me without any room to argue. I almost smiled at her, remembering the countless times Camilla had done the same to me.

“I’ll take care of her,” Trent reassured Sofia.

“Good,” she said. “Tomorrow we put our Camilla to rest. Do you want to say some words at the church?” she asked me.

I didn’t. “Yes,” I told her, and while Trent and Sofia were saying their goodbyes, I quickly swallowed a Xanax. Because shit was about to get bad. I already felt my stomach turning, the bile churning, waiting to come up. I had to leave Camilla behind, but I didn’t know how.

I let Trent walk me to his car and forced my legs not to buckle. One step, then two, until I was sitting in the car with my seatbelt buckled. I waved at Sofia, who had her hands to her mouth, visibly trembling. I wanted to get out of the car, plant my ass in the viewing room, next to Camilla and refuse to leave. But Sofia, who had sought to comfort me, wanted me to leave so I had to. I didn’t have a choice.

Trent tried to force food into my mouth, but I couldn’t. Just the idea of food had my already angry stomach snapping at me.

Without asking, Trent decided he’d stay the night, sleeping on my couch. I was grateful he was close by, but resented him for the looks he gave me as I took what had become my nightly ritual of three shots of Patron with a Xanax.

I tossed in my bed, groggy enough that the sleep deprivation didn’t really bother me. But after several hours of staring at my ceiling, I allowed myself another pill, and finally found a couple hours of sleep before Trent woke me.

The church Camilla’s service was held at was big and boisterous with white stone statues and flowers throughout. Camilla would have shaken her head at it. She’d have preferred something outdoors, like the beach. Followed by a bonfire in her honor, loud music, and alcohol.

“I want to go to the beach after,” I told Trent, not really seeking permission, but still wanting his approval.

“Okay,” he told me. “We’ll build her a bonfire.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised. Trent seemed to have an all access pass to my brain and its inner-workings. “And music,” I replied, and he nodded at me, kissing me on the forehead like he used to. How long had it been since he’d done that? It felt much longer than the ten days that had actually passed. I leaned into him, his warmth, and felt my heart flutter at the memory of what we once had.

We took our seats next to Sofia, at her request. Half of the service was in Spanish since a lot of her relatives didn’t speak English. Rather than allowing my brain to recognize where I was or what was happening, I tried to listen for words I recognized and searched my brain for their meaning.

It wasn’t until I heard my name called from the pew that I remembered I had told Sofia I wanted to speak about Camilla and what she meant to me. I hadn’t written anything. With tears in her eyes, Sofia squeezed my hand, and I walked to the microphone trying not to look at Camilla’s face.

Nervous, I cleared my throat. How cliché, I thought. “Camilla was my best friend,” I started. “I met her in one of my classes and was just drawn to her. She was so alive,” I said and outwardly grimaced at my choice of words. “She was like a ray of sunshine, always laughing and looking for the brighter side of things. We danced together, we laughed together, we tanned together. I trusted Cam enough with my tears and loved her enough to tell her when she was being stupid. And she did the same,” I faltered. “The night she died,” I let out a loud sob and forced myself to regain my composure. “The night she died, she showed me what a true friend was. I’d never had a true friend until Camilla, so I expected her to leave me when things got rough. But she didn’t. Instead, she bought me
croquettas
,” I laughed through my misery. “She listened to me and helped me find a solution, which she was supposed to be a part of,” I tried to clear my throat again so I could continue. “I’ll never forget you,” I told my friend out loud. “I hate that we’ve been robbed of memories we’ll never make. But I’ll never forget you. I miss you so much, every day.”

I walked towards Camilla and couldn’t move past her. I felt Sofia embrace me, speaking to me in Spanish and smoothing my hair against my head. She led me back to our seats and I sat silently with my hands clasped together tightly on my lap as we listened to Frank Sinatra sing My Way.

Chapter 17

Shayna

The mall was crowded and loud, with people, lots of people, walking, running, and talking. She didn’t mind the noise though. She actually preferred the noise over silence. She saw Nate watching her as she ate her ice cream. She didn’t mind it when he looked at her anymore. Nate was safe.

She kept her newly bought suitcase by her side. She wanted to run her fingers over the Princesses faces again. She wanted to run around the mall, her small hand clutching the handle as her suitcase chased behind her. She wanted to hug Nate again and thank him. She wanted to go to her new home with her big sister. But her sister hadn’t come yet. What if Nate had saved her for no reason? What if Momma was right and she wasn’t loveable? Wasn’t that the real reason Momma had left? And why her sister still hadn’t come for her?

Chapter 18

Erin

The beach spoke to me, beckoned for me, and I answered her. With my heart full of grief and my hands full of wine and red plastic cups, I went to her. I looked at Trent, Tonya, Brianna and Jermaine, and was happy we were going to celebrate Camilla’s life together.

Celebrate her life. That’s what Sofia had said and what I wanted to do. Maybe it would alleviate some of the pain I felt. We all felt it, I reminded myself as I looked at my friends. It wasn’t just the emotional distress, but the overall physical pain that accompanied it.

While Jermaine started a small fire, I took out my phone and looked through my folders until I reached Camilla’s favorite artist. Bob Marley, the only man Camilla felt was always there for her. He’d have to be there for us as well.

Trent brought three bottles of wine, Camilla’s favorite adult beverage since Trent had introduced it to us, and poured its content into the red plastic cups. I leaned closer to the fire, seeking its warmth. Since Camilla’s death, I had discovered a coldness that lived in my bones and sought to make a home in my joints. The fire provided me a superficial warmth that I knew wouldn’t alleviate anything.

“Cam would have wanted us to make a toast in her honor,” Trent said, stealing the thoughts from my head. “So, here’s to Cam,” he said, raising his cup as we raised ours. “The biggest smart ass I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. We’ll always remember you for your laughter and kindness. You’ll live on through each of us, and for that we should be grateful.”

I looked over at Trent and felt an insurmountable amount of love for him. I wanted to curl up in his lap and ask him to take me away. I wanted to stop thinking and just let him take care of me. He caught me looking at him and smiled at me. I returned his smile shyly and felt myself blush so I turned away before he could read what I was sure was written all over my face— I loved him.

We drank to her in silence, each of us absorbed in our own thoughts. But after No Woman No Cry, Tonya decided it was time for us to dance and told me to turn Bob Marley off. She helped me to my feet once Don Omar started to sing from her phone. She took the man’s position and held me by the waist, guiding us in a fast paced dance that consisted mainly of us swinging our hips wildly.

Not to be outdone, Trent turned me to him, and in his arms I danced. He twirled me and even attempted some poorly executed dips. But I laughed. I felt freer than I had in days. I tried to hold onto that happiness so that I could revisit it when the sorrow began to creep in again. I tried not to think about my apartment, which was once my fortress, but now felt like a prison. I tried not to think about all that I had lost in the last ten days. Ten days, that’s all the time that had passed since Officer Gonz had shown up at Trent’s apartment. Ten days.

I drew myself away from Trent and searched for my purse. With every step I took towards it, I felt my throat clamp up and my heart beat harder, faster. I closed my eyes as I bent down to pick it up. Inside I would find my salvation. With a quick swallow of two tiny magical pills, my insides would calm. In a few minutes, I would feel absolutely nothing at all, I assured myself as I sipped my wine.

I could feel Trent’s eyes on my back and saw his disappointment when I turned towards him. I hated the way he looked at me and slowly walked to him. On impulse, I hugged him and waited until he returned the embrace. I looked up at, pleading for him to understand.

“I need them right now,” I tried to explain. “It’s not a permanent thing. I swear, Trent.”

Trent shook his head at me, hesitating before speaking to me. “If it was just a couple a day, I wouldn’t be worried. But you’re becoming dependent on them.”

“One week doesn’t make me an addict.”

“Erin, your mom—”

“My mom?” I hissed, interrupting whatever he wanted to say. He had the audacity to speak to me about my mom when his own mom was also an addict. It didn’t matter how long she’d been sober. Once an addict… “You think I’m like my mom?” I didn’t want to hear his response. No, I wanted to laugh or spit at him. I wanted to slap him, but refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words had hurt me.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said through clenched teeth.

I didn’t respond to him. I just glared at him, daring him to continue talking.

“Your mom is dead,” he said slowly, watching me intently, but I shrugged my shoulders at his words. I wanted to be indifferent about this whole shit storm I called life. “And while you’re busy hiding from reality, your little sister is in foster care.”

Shayna, I thought. I’d almost forgotten about her. No, I’d wanted to forget about her, I corrected myself.

“You have a responsibility to her,” he continued.

“Don’t talk to me about responsibilities,” I told him as calmly as I could. “You can sit on your perfect little throne with your perfect little family and your perfect little vacations. But don’t you tell me what I have to do.”

“Perfect?” he scoffed. “That’s right, Erin. My life was perfect and you had such a crappy life,” Trent told me sarcastically. “But this isn’t about me or my family. It’s about you. You can change your name and your address, but you can’t escape your past, especially when it’s still staring you in the face in the present.”

“Escape my past? Do you even hear yourself?” I shouted at him. “I’m not the one pretending. I know what my mom was. I came to terms with that a long ass time ago. But you? You sit there and pretend your mom is something she’s not.”

“Don’t bring my mom into this,” Trent said, his voice so low I could hardly hear him.

“Fine, Trent,” I relented, waving my hands in feigned surrender. “What do you suggest I do, then?” I asked mockingly.

“Bring Shayna back here. I’ll help you—”

“You’ll help me?” I interrupted him again. “I didn’t ask for your assistance and I don’t want it,” I spat at him.

I saw the hurt creep into his eyes just before they flared back at me in anger.

“Fine,” he said grabbing my arms roughly. “But you’ll get Shayna?”

“No.”

“No?” Trent yelled at me. “No? What the hell is wrong with you, Erin?”

“Where do I begin?” I laughed, but nothing about our fight was funny. I tried to calm myself, breathing slowly with my eyes closed. I opened them and looked at Trent, hoping he’d see me and not be disappointed with the truth. “I’m not equipped to take care of a child.”

“You’re not equipped?” Trent laughed at me harshly, like a slap to my face. “Get equipped.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” How proverbial, I thought as the most obvious words in arguments flew out of my mouth. Next thing you know, I’d tell him I never wanted to see him again.

“Because you won’t tell me,” he countered.

“Tell you what?” I demanded. “About how I was so poor, I considered it a lucky day if I found scraps of food, regardless of where it came from? About how my mother prostituted herself and me for drugs?” I saw sympathy creep into his eyes, but I didn’t want any part of it. Remember, fuck sympathy, right? So I steamrolled past that little facet of my past. “You want me to boo hoo about how my mommy was never around? Or how I never had an actual home until I left and made one here? I can’t be a mom, Trent, because I never had one.”

“So that’s it?” Trent asked, without any signs of sympathy, only anger. “After all this shit, everything you’ve been through, you’re just going to quit? No,” he answered himself. “No, damnit, you’re not. You’re gonna get your ass up and fight. You’re gonna fight like Hell until you have nothing left in you to fight.”

“I can’t do it,” I told Trent quietly.

“See, here’s the thing,” Trent said sternly, making me feel as if he were speaking down to me. “None of that matters. That little girl needs you, and it’s on you to step it up. Put all your bullshit insecurities to rest and be there for her. Nothing else matters.”