All About Him Page 3

  Images of that fancy house flashed through my mind. I was weak. I needed something to help make me feel better.

  I grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. I needed to be strong. Thoughts of Cooper’s new life were enough to make me suicidal. I squeezed my eyes shut and settled back down onto the sofa.

  There was nothing I could do to stop the images that seemed stuck on replay in my head. The curb appeal, the pristine foyer, the furniture that looked like it belonged in a model home; all of it was too much for me to handle. Two hours later, I rose from the sofa, yawned, stretched long and hard, and rubbed my eyes. It was still hard to fathom that Coop was living like a king. He didn’t deserve the favor he had been shown; he really was a selfish narcissist.

  The clock on the microwave flashed 5:18. My entire day had gone by in a flash. I bolted up, swung my legs over to the floor, and walked over to the small dresser. After much thought, I pulled out the fourth drawer.

  “Shit, where is it?”

  My nerves were bad.

  After going through the entire drawer, I remembered that I had already used what was in there. What the hell would I do now? I eased up against the wall and slid down to the floor. My life was miserable. The tears pushed their way through before I could muster up the strength to try and stop them.

  How had shit fallen apart for me but rose to the skies for him? Depression hovered over me like a full rain cloud ready to dump at any moment. I needed something to make this all go away, even if only temporarily.

  Suddenly, I remembered my emergency stash. Excitement washed over me as I rushed to the kitchen, pulled open the pantry door, and grabbed the small pill box. It was hidden behind the Saltine crackers, for the most desperate of times. This had definitely met that criteria. I opened the small refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of wine.

  Once I poured a glass full, I grabbed a pill, opened my mouth, tossed it to the back of my throat, and took a gulp of wine.

  With my eyes squeezed shut, I took another healthy gulp of wine, allowed my jaws to expand to hold more liquid, and prayed that the mixture would work with lightning speed.

  I needed to go to another place, and I needed to go there as quickly as possible.

  In my mind, I warned myself that another pill so soon wouldn’t be the best thing to do. But my heart said something else. What was the worst that could happen, considering I was living one step from homelessness while my ex was living high off the hog? Thoughts of everything that was right with Cooper’s life and wrong with mine played over in my mind like the real-life nightmare that it was. And suddenly, it didn’t matter anymore, none of it.

  “To hell with it.” I tossed another pill into my mouth and washed it down with the final glass of wine. If they found me unconscious, and had to pump my stomach, any woman whose heart had been broken would understand.

  The bottle was nearly empty when I reached for it again. I couldn’t focus on that; I needed to find my sanctuary. I brought the bottle to my lips and tilted my head back. Once I drained it, I released a deep breath and hoped for the best.

  How to get more Vicodin was my only concern. I needed more pills because I had the feeling there’d be more days like the one I’d just experienced. And there was no way I’d be able to handle it all alone.

  Minutes later, in the distance, I heard my cell phone ring. It couldn’t have been anyone but Yesterday who only wanted to bitch at me for not answering her call earlier.

  Why didn’t she understand that I didn’t want to talk about Cooper’s fabulous new life? My life was a shit show compared to his.

  The feeling moved slowly, but I felt it coming. Without any warning, the smile made its way to my face, and I couldn’t stop it if I tried. This was the feeling I needed. It was warm, but at the same time, gave me a chill that seemed to rush through my veins. The wave of euphoria slowly rained down on me and felt like sheer bliss that began at the top of my head and flowed along the length of my entire body.

  Then, without warning, my legs felt like overcooked noodles that threatened to give out on me. I wobbled slightly. I didn’t mind; nothing bothered me. The pain was gone, and I was happy.

  These days, happiness was something I could only find after my special cocktail. Vicodin and wine had been my only true friends during my hard times.

  When I laughed, I pulled a hand up to my chin to wipe the trail of drool that slid down my chin. This time, when I fell back onto the sofa, everything was just fine. I had finally found the happiness I needed, and it felt really good.

  The sensation that washed over me felt divine. I felt great, and the more my special cocktail took over, the better I felt—finally.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  It wasn’t until I heard my name that I realized someone was at the door. When my good feeling took over, nothing else mattered.

  My body wanted to get up and rush to the door, but I couldn’t muster up the strength.

  Maybe if I closed my eyes, they’d go away. Who was tryna mess up my high and why?

  My eyelids felt heavy, and my heart felt light. But still, I found pleasure in everything, the way I breathed, with my chest slowly rising and falling, the way my skin tingled like I was covered with a blanket made of little bolts of electricity. My cocktail was doing its job.

  The knock at the door sounded more like the battering ram after a while. They were determined to get in, even if it meant breaking down the front door.

  “Could you fucking not!” I yelled at the door.

  Warm drool slid down the side of my mouth again, but I didn’t care. I felt good. There was no pain, and no worries in my life, except at my front door.

  “Open the damn door!” Yesterday yelled.

  Experience had taught me she would never go away. I had to choose between my blissful high and the misery I was certain she had on the other side of the door.

  Slowly, I dragged myself in its direction and took baby steps hoping she’d get tired and leave. I knew that was highly unlikely.

  “I’m not leaving until you open the damn door!” she yelled.

  I knew she meant every single word, so I made it to the door, took a deep breath, and pulled it open.

  “Shit, Felicia, are you high again?” she asked.

  Chapter Five

  When Yesterday walked in, the look on her face said she was either surprised by the sight of me, my place or maybe both. I could imagine that after salivating over Coop’s crib on TV, mine had to be a huge letdown. She glanced around—and that didn’t take long because my place was smaller than a matchbox—then she focused on me.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  I wasn’t sure if she really expected an answer.

  “Shhhiiiit, nothing now.”

  Even the sound of my voice was like bliss. It felt like it came out in a whimsical singsongy tone that anyone could appreciate.

  “I can’t believe you. Why you got yourself all locked up in this place, high as the moon and all alone?”

  I wanted to tell her that should have been the best high ever, and she was messing it up. When I moved, I stumbled a little but caught my balance.

  “See, this a damn shame. So, what set you off this time?”

  She didn’t need to be looking after me; it would’ve been so much better if she left. Especially the way she was talking to me, I didn’t give a damn what she thought, didn’t care what Cooper thought. I just wanted to ride my wave in peace and enjoy the blissful feeling. I knew from experience that it wouldn’t last forever.

  “I told you I wasn’t in the mood.”

  That didn’t sound as good as the first words, but she needed to be warned.

  “Girl, you don’t feel that?”

  Yesterday’s face twisted as she looked at mine. I wanted to tell her what I did feel, felt good, and it would be much better if she left so
I could really enjoy it. Instead, I shook my head. Or at least I thought I did.

  Seconds later, her long nails were snapping in front of my eyes.

  “You are really messed up right now.”

  That’s what she thought, but I couldn’t think of a time when I had felt better. I wasn’t addicted to Vicodin and wine, but when I had a hard time, my special cocktail helped soften it, even if a little. Suddenly, her hands were on my arms, and she gently guided me to a seat.

  My head began to feel heavy, and I wanted to relax. I didn’t need to be examined, didn’t need to be scolded, and I didn’t even want to talk.

  “We need to get you some help. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

  The sour expression on my face had more to do with Yesterday’s hypocrisy, than the chemical imbalance I had been enjoying. Now she was worried about me and wanted to get me some help?

  “Whhhaaat? Talk to me; what’s going on?”

  “What’s going on is you up in here acting all concerned and worried, but yet every chance you get, you rubbing Coop’s success in my face. If you not jamming to his damn music, you wanna be talking about his new place with me, like none of that pisses me off.”

  Yesterday’s eyes grew wide. She actually looked surprised.

  “What makes you think I need to be discussing a tour of his mansion with you? Why I need to be on the phone while you swooning and creaming over all his nice things? The very damn things that he should’ve been sharing with me.”

  By the time I was finished, Yesterday’s mouth literally hung wide.

  “Girl, what’s really wrong with you?”

  For a second, I thought I might have been getting through to her. Her expression changed from wonderment and softened, or so I thought.

  But suddenly, her neck began to twist.

  “So now that you high on pills and liquor, you mistaking that for courage and think you can talk to me all out the side of your mouth?”

  Yesterday really was messing up my high, and I needed her to know that. It wasn’t about the way I talked to her; it was the way her antics made me feel. But it was clear she wasn’t ready to receive what I was saying.

  “So just because Coop a star now, you gon’ act like you got one foot in the grave? What happened to the Felicia who made all of that possible for him? I don’ already told your ass what I thought you should do. You let that man take everything from you. He took your money, your blood, and everything else... what’s next? You gonna let him have your life too?”

  My eyebrow inched upward at her questions.

  “Felicia, ever since you got put out, you been doing just enough to get by. I’m not even gonna say enough to survive, because I ain’t seen you do nothing for yourself since he left. But yet, you mad at him and Evelyn. Why you mad? They only did to you what you allowed them to do.”

  She moved away.

  The second I thought she’d finally decided to leave, we both turned toward the knock at the door.

  “Damn,” Yesterday hissed. She rushed to the door before I could say anything. “I totally forgot,” she muttered as she walked over and pulled the door open.

  My mother, Tabitha, was always heard before she was seen. If I didn’t want to wring Yesterday’s neck before, I definitely wanted to now. She had gone and called my messy, phony mama?

  “Well, so, is the chile alive or what?” my mother said more than asked as she pranced into my small space. “Fix it, Jesus! Fix it!” she hollered, as she looked around the apartment.

  “Hey, Tabitha,” Yesterday muttered. “How are you?”

  “Hey, chile. I am saved, sanctified, and filled with the Holy Ghost,” my mother said.

  My eye-roll was so dramatic, I was stunned the balls didn’t pop from their sockets. I still couldn’t fathom that Yesterday had gone and called my meddling, fake, sanctified momma.

  When Cooper became a star, her life had also changed. I had more gray in my hair than you’d ever find in hers. She was once a size 28, but by the time she had her gastric sleeve, tummy-tuck, and complete body lift, she was a curvy size 12. Today, she strutted into my place wearing an expensive-looking brown St. John pants suit, like it was made specifically for her body. The leather of her camel-colored designer handbag looked delicately soft. He had bought my mama, and she showed no shame in accepting everything he tossed her way.

  Tabitha clutched her purse closer to her body as she scanned the room. I was certain she had spotted everything that was wrong, within seconds. I watched in horror as she flung her head back and began her rant.

  “Every single day, I fall to my knees and beg the good Lord to do something to help this child of mine.” Her face couldn’t even hide the disdain. She turned to me and said, “So what! You lost your man. You ain’t the first, and sure ain’t gonna be the last woman to experience that, Lord knows. I ain’t been saved all my life. I’ve been there before.”

  Confirmation that my high was gone came the second my mother pivoted in her red-bottoms and moved toward the window. She glanced out, frowned, and turned back to us.

  “I don’t see how you continue to carry on like this,” she said. “Umph, umph, umph, we’re living in our last days for sure!”

  Yesterday’s eyes quickly shifted to the floor. She didn’t dare look at me; she knew I was beyond pissed. My relationship with my mother had taken a turn when things had started to fall apart with Coop and me, but when she had taken his and Evelyn’s side, that pretty much did us in. The money and gifts were enticing, but she’d sold me out, and we all knew it.

  “I keep telling you,” my mother began.

  “I know, let go and let God,” I repeated nearly in unison with her, but with far less enthusiasm.

  She looked at me, her brows knitted in confusion.

  “Blasphemy! Blasphemy!” she hollered.

  There was nothing my mother could say or do for me, and she knew it. Everyone else might have bought her phony persona with all of the religious sayings and biblical references, but I knew better.

  “I’ma keep praying for you, chile. I’ma keep praying because the devil is a lie if he thinks I’m giving up my child without a fight.”

  Chapter Six

  "Wheeew!” My mother struggled to take off her designer shoes. “These suckers may be expensive, but they are nothing nice on my feet.”

  Yesterday and I watched as she took a pair of ballerina flats from her bag and eased the red-bottom pumps to the side. I struggled to contain the eye-roll that was itching to escape.

  My mother straightened herself, then looked away from me.

  “Yesterday, I need a word with you in the hall,” she said. Relief returned to my senses, and I got hopeful. Could they finally be leaving?

  Yesterday looked at me with sorrowful eyes, but she and my mother turned away.

  My high felt like it was about to come back when they stepped outside. I quickly locked the door behind them. Once alone, my thoughts instantly traveled back to the beginning, when the future looked so bright for Cooper and me.

  “Baby, you have such a beautiful voice, I just know you can make it.”

  “Licia, you’ve been saying that longer than we’ve been married now. You know I like singing for you, the fam, and friends, but to say I can make a living doing it?” He shrugged.

  Cooper knew his talent was real and enough of us told him continuously. At times, it was like he wanted to hear it over and over again. Because I suspected as much, I stroked his ego more than I did most things.

  I was pregnant with our son, and moving around had become real uncomfortable. Cooper was more attentive than ever, and it made me want to do whatever might keep him happy. Even if that meant constantly reinforcing what he already knew. Cooper was very talented.

  “Coop, do you hear yourself? If you’re good enough to sing at all those doggone family functions, in
cluding funerals, why wouldn’t you be able to make a living doing it?”

  He didn’t answer. He shrugged slightly, but I could tell he was giving serious thought to what I said. Many professionals were not as good as him.

  Cooper got up and walked over to the mirror that hung near the door. He stared at his reflection. He did that a lot. Sometimes I felt like he thought he had settled in life. Cooper was a very good-looking man with a voice that was angelic. We had met in high school during a talent show and had been inseparable ever since.

  After a four-year stint in the Army, he came back to Houston and got a job driving Metro buses. It wasn’t the best job for a man who had dreams of stardom, but it was good enough.

  “Oh.” I adjusted myself on the sofa.

  Cooper turned away from his reflection, and looked at me. “My boy acting up again, huh?” He moved closer.

  Once I placed my hand on my belly, the baby seemed to settle.

  “You doing good, baby, you doing good. We only got a few more weeks to go, and it’ll be over.”

  I closed my eyes and prayed the baby would come on time. I was tired of being pregnant. I wanted my old body back. I needed to feel like myself again.

  Within seconds, Cooper kneeled down next to me.

  “I sing because I’m happy…

  I sing because I’m free…

  For his eye is on the sparrow…”

  His voice seemed to calm the baby even more. I closed my eyes and allowed the sound of his voice to carry me away. I loved when Cooper sang. Usually, he’d sing some Luther or Barry White, but when he sang to my stomach and our son, he always sang an old gospel song.