A Street Girl Named Desire: A Novel (29 page)

Desire sat in the bedroom, listening to Carlvelas's conversation. She knew that Carvelas was missing out on a lot of money to stay at home with her. The same man had called at least twice a week, to see if Carvelas wanted to work local events, but he had always refused.

“Listen to me,” Desire said seriously. “You can't keep babysitting me. I'm going to have to stand on my own eventually, so why not now? I know how much you like your job, and how much they need you, so do me this favor, baby…go. I'm gonna be all right.”

The next day, Carvelas relunctantly left for Chicago. He would be gone one week. Desire sighed when they parted. She knew she would have to sit alone, without her man by her side, for the first time in a couple of months. Before Carvelas left, he assured her that if she needed him, all she had to do was call him and he would be right there. He gave her all the information that she would need to reach him at all times. Before he left, he also
placed money in the top drawer in the bedroom in case of any emergency

On the third night Carvelas was gone, Desire scanned the Chinese take-out menu, then picked up the phone to have some food delivered. After she placed her order, she turned on the TV and waited for her food to arrive. She watched a high-speed car chase on
Cops
, saw the police pull two white males out of the car. As they were handcuffed, the cops searched their vehicle for drugs or weapons. They pulled out a small cellophane plastic bag and shined their flashlights on it as they poured the contents out of the bag. Large chunks of crack the size of Now and Laters lay on the hood of the car.

Suddenly, without warning, Desire's stomach began to flip. The way it began to growl and shake, it felt as if she had to go to the bathroom. Her body was reacting to the euphoric recall of the cocaine, releasing adrenaline throughout her body.

Desire cut off the television as her heart pounded and palms got sweaty. She recognized what was happening and immediately picked up the telephone to call Carvelas. She breathed rapidly as she waited for him to pick up. She was about to try the other number he'd given her, but the doorbell rang, startling her. She went to the door, and saw that it was the Chinese delivery man. She opened the door, then went to her drawer to get the money. When she opened the envelope, she nearly lost control of her bowels. Desire fingered through the thick wad of cash; it was all fifties and one hundreds. The delivery man's voice broke her out of her trance.

“Must deliver other order, ma'am.”

Desire pulled out a fifty and told him to keep the change. She
snatched the bag of food. After she had locked the door behind the delivery man, she threw the food in the trash can and ran to the bedroom. She grabbed the envelope from the drawer again and with shaky hands began counting. Twenty-seven hundred dollars. She grabbed her coat and left the apartment, heading back into the mean, dark streets of Harlem. It was as if she weren't even herself anymore. She just wanted to get one hit, one rush of ecstasy from the crack she could already taste in her mouth. She planned to go right back home, to not get caught up in the streets, to only buy a little taste and then start rebuilding things immediately. But when Carvelas returned home four days later, his apartment was bare, and Desire was gone.

I
t is believed that if a drug addict or alcoholic in recovery relapses, they return with a higher tolerance for their drug of choice. A heroin addict who needed a bundle a day to get high before rehab now required double that amount.

Several weeks after she returned to the streets, Desire's addiction was worse than ever before. That first night, Desire copped an eighth of a brick, rented a motel room and smoked herself into oblivion. She had not wanted to smoke it in the apartment, because it was only going to be for one night, and then she'd go back to real life. But the minute she took that first hit, her real life became the one she had escaped mere months ago. It became the only one that mattered. By the time she had smoked an unusually high
amount of crack cocaine, and all the money was gone, her entire being had warped. She had finally lost her mind.

On Valentine's Day night in 2007, Desire Evans stood on the corner curb, freezing as she watched the fluffy white snow rapidly rain down. She looked like a woman over twice her age. There was nobody on the street that she could beg any change from, no cars on the road to flag down to offer her sexual services to, nothing. Broke and destitute, she cried, because her body craved the drug and she didn't have the means to feed it. Her mind raced to think of her options, and there was only one.

Desire knocked faintly on the door, and heard heavy footsteps approach. The door opened, and the same young teen that Carvelas had taken the pistol from stood looking at her as if she were a ghost.

“Yo, Lyfe,” the boy chuckled. “You ain't gonna believe this shit.”

When Desire entered the apartment, she saw Lyfe lying back lazily as he smoked a blunt. He was rubbing one of his rottweilers. A devilish grin crept across his face when he saw Desire.

“So we meet yet again,” he snarled. The taste of the barrel of his own boy's gun in his mouth rushed to his tongue. He was about to take all the hatred and fear he had felt for Carvelas in that instant out on the woman Carvelas had been trying to protect. They both had punked him for far too long, and way too many times. He was about to show Desire just who she was fuckin with.

He whistled for his dogs to group together in the middle of the
floor. As if he were a Roman emperor, he raised his arm and commanded them to sit, indicating that Desire should get on her knees. She complied without a word. She had been through this before. She had no soul left. She was just a body, living and existing only for the drug. If it wanted her to commit this senseless act, she would, because it truly had become her. The two dogs knew it was mating time, as their moist, red penises were already protruding. She attempted to massage their penises, but Lyfe snapped, “Don't put your funky ass hands on my dog's dicks, bitch! I want you to suck them, like the dirty bitch you are.”

Desire obeyed quickly, without words, as if she were a robot. She had lost all feeling, all shame. She bent awkwardly and put the first dog's penis into her mouth. She closed her eyes and squinted tightly as she worked one dog, then switched to the other.

This went on for nearly twenty minutes. Desire had lost all track of time, was only concerned with the minute when Lyfe would hand her the drugs. Finally, Lyfe clapped his hands and said, “Cease!”

When Desire stopped, she could see that Lyfe was in a psychotic haze. Eyes bloodshot and aflame, he glared down upon her with hatred and reached for his zipper. “Lay the fuck down and open your mouth—wide.” Both of Lyfe's flunkies glanced at each other and snickered. Desire cringed but assumed her position slowly. On her back, she closed her eyes to fight back the tears of total shame and humiliation—but lost. Desire's pathetic life at that moment flashed before her eyes; she began to cry even harder, when suddenly, the words of Hattie Mae entered her mind as clear as day.

“
Desire, I want you to promise me that no matter what happens
in life, no matter how hard it knocks you down, I want you to get on your knees and pray. Pray until you get an answer from God
!”

A surge of strength entered her body as she said, “Yes, Grandma, I'm gonna pray, I'm gonna pray”

Desire rose, got on her knees, and began to pray silently Lyfe glared at her as if she had lost her mind, and sneered, “Bitch, what the fuck you doing?”

Tears fell heavily from her eyes. “My grandmama told me to pray,” Desire said, choking back the tears.

“Bitch,” yelled Lyfe, “are you crazy? Did I tell you to get up? Lay the fuck back down!”

“My grandma told me to get on my knees and pray” She cried again.

Lyfe grew angrier and kicked Desire viciously in the face. Desire lost her balance, but got back on her knees and repeated, as if she was in her own space and time, “She told me to pray if I'm in trouble. She was the only one who loved me.”

Lyfe's eyes grew wider and then he said, “Oh, this bitch thinks I'm playing.” He motioned to his flunky. “Yo, bring me the two by four.”

All the while, Desire continued to babble incoherently as if she was losing her mind. “I never knew my momma. She left me.”

The boy handed the thick piece of wood to Lyfe, who gripped it firmly. “Bitch, I'm gonna teach you to listen now.”

Desire never saw the blow coming, as Lyfe swung the wood behind his shoulder and delivered a sickening blow to her face. Both his flunkies cringed at the sound of her facial bones cracking. Desire slumped over, bleeding from her mouth and nose.
Lyfe began to circle his victim. “Bitch,” Lyfe yelled, “you bring that nigga of yours to step to Lyfe and think you can live after that? You lost your mind, bitch? My name is Lyfe, son, and I handle mine.”

With will from the heavens, Desire suddenly began to rise to her knees again. “My mama had me on the street, my grandmama saved me and her,” she mumbled through her swollen mouth.

This infuriated Lyfe even more. “Oh, this bitch really want it,” he said as he backed up. Lyfe then ran toward Desire full speed and knocked her senseless across her skull, splitting it instantly. Desire's body lay limp as blood spewed rapidly out of her head. Lyfe continued to pound Desire all over her body. The two boys turned their heads in shame as they listened to the sickly cracking of Desire's bones. They could no longer watch the brutal beating. “Take it, bitch, yeah, take it!” Lyfe screamed, as spit flew from his mouth. “Where ya punk-ass man now!” Desire's body was lifeless.

One of the boys began to cry; he could no longer take it and rushed his boss and grabbed him before he delivered another violent blow. “No more, man! You killing her! No more!” Lyfe struggled to be freed, but the other boy helped contain him. Lyfe's chest heaved in and out rapidly, as his eyes fluttered hysterically. “You won, man, you got her back,” cried the boy.

Lyfe began to return to sanity and looked at both boys, who slowly released him. He looked at the wood that was still in his hand, and that was now saturated with blood, and tossed it aside. Wiping blood off his face he blinked and gazed down upon Desire's broken and twisted body. He looked at both boys, who
had their heads down, and said, “Take this bitch outside and shoot her!”

Desire once again made headlines in the newspapers:

Forty-eight hours after Desire was rushed to the hospital and the bullets were removed from her body, she finally opened her eyes. The trauma surgeons had done the best they could, but they didn't give her much chance for survival. She opened her eyes for only the second it took for her life-monitoring machines to record a crucial spike in brain activity. Then she slipped back into a coma. One of her lungs had collapsed, and she'd been placed on life support.

On the sixth day, Desire opened her eyes again, and came out of her coma. Being the seasoned hospital veteran that she was, Desire knew immediately where she was; however, she wasn't sure what she was there for. When she tried to sit up, crippling pain hit her like a ton of bricks. She tried to scream, but something was holding her jaw shut, so she could only moan like a wounded cat. The pain was so awesome, she wanted to die. She saw a nurse appear, and her eyes began to feel heavy shortly after she sensed the nurse injecting a shot in her arm. She passed out.

It would be another full day before Desire would find the strength to awaken again. The first thing she saw was Carvelas's smiling face. Again, he appeared to her like a miracle. A warm, soothing
calm came over her as she felt the loving stroke of his hand against her.

Desire tried to speak, but she cringed in pain. She sensed a stiffness in her face that she had never felt before.

“Your jaw is wired shut,” Carvelas carefully explained. “And both your arms have been broken. Lyfe beat you and had you shot. He was found by police, running from the scene after somebody called 911. The bullets in his gun matched the ones pulled out of your body. He's been arrested on attempted murder charges. I'm here. He can't hurt you anymore.”