Every Woman's Dream (21 page)

Chapter 33

Joan

R
EED WAS ASLEEP WHEN
I
GOT TO THE HOSPITAL A FEW MINUTES
after ten that morning. I waited around two hours for him to wake up. “Joan, please leave me alone for today,” he told me as soon as he saw my face. “I'd like to pull myself back together before we talk some more.”

“I can wait,” I said, giving him a weak smile. I was happy to see that he didn't look so tortured today. “Embarrassed” was the best way I could describe the look on his face now.

“No! I want to be by myself,” he insisted. “Go on home!”

Not only was I exhausted, I was not in the mood to argue. I needed to pull myself back together, as much as he did, so I left.

 

As much as I ignored it, I finally admitted to myself that I no longer loved my husband. I wasn't even sure I ever really had! He had impressed me in the beginning of our relationship, and I thought that with all he had to offer, he could make me happy. I should have insisted on waiting until I got to know him much better before we got married! I was angry with him for putting me in the position he had put me in by attempting to kill himself. I realized now that he was a weak, miserable man and had probably been that way his whole life. It explained why he had targeted a girl my age. I couldn't see a woman his age tolerating his behavior. Well, he could play his games as much as he wanted to. I was not about to let him use suicide to hold me hostage! I would play along with him, just enough to keep him “happy,” and do everything I could to please myself too. But there was no way that I could stay with Reed and please myself
without
seeing other men. . . .

I was sorry I didn't have a date lined up for the evening. With Reed in the hospital, I would not have had to make up a story about where I was going. And spending a couple of hours with a man I was not committed to would certainly take my mind off the man that I was committed to.

Too Sweet had promised to pick up Junior from school and take him to Mama's house until I picked him up, so I had a few hours to myself. I refreshed my makeup and drove around for about twenty minutes before I decided to get on the freeway. I had not planned to do anything in particular, but when I approached the exit to a mall, I decided to spend a couple of hours shopping before the stores closed.

I picked out a few items for myself and for Junior; and just to make it look good, I purchased a new robe for Reed. I had a feeling he would not want to wear the one he'd been found in after his suicide attempt.

On the way home, I stopped at a Starbucks to have a cup of coffee. Someone had left a newspaper on the only available table; it featured a story on the front page about the three local young black women who had all turned up missing in less than a year. It was a disturbing article, but it was the pictures of the women that gave me a chill.
They all resemble Lola,
I thought. I folded the newspaper and stuffed it into my purse, wondering if she had seen it.

I was anxious to pick up my son from Mama's house, so I finished my coffee and got back on the freeway

 

“Joan, how is poor Reed?” Mama asked as soon as I made it into the house. She was still in her ugly gray prison uniform.

I heaved a heavy sigh. “He's fine. He'll be home in a couple of days, but I don't think he'll want too much company for a while, so don't come see him.”

“Well, none of us will come to see him until he feels up to it, but I'll keep him in my prayers.” Mama reared back and looked me up and down, giving me a pitiful look. “You look terrible, baby. Come sit with me for a little while.” She led me by the hand to the living-room couch. “You're just in time. Elmo made a pitcher of margaritas. And I hope you can stay for dinner. Elaine made gumbo.”

“I can't stay for dinner. Before I left home, I put a steak in the sink to thaw out. Where's Junior?”

“He's next door visiting the Carter boy.” When we reached the couch, Mama stopped abruptly and gave me a wild-eyed look. “I hope you don't tell Junior his daddy tried to commit suicide!”

“Of course I won't tell my child that. If it's up to me, he'll never know.”

“I'm glad to hear that.” Mama looked relieved. “Well, he sure won't hear it from nobody in our family.”

Mama dropped down onto the couch with a groan and a complaint about a pain in her back. I sat down next to her, glad that Elmo had already placed a tray that contained a margarita-filled pitcher and several salt-rimmed glasses onto the coffee table. One thing I could say about my stepfather was that he was a “handyman” in every sense of the word. He went to his job and worked just as long and hard as Mama did every day. But he did a lot of the cooking and other things around the house too.

“You know how heavy-handed Elmo is with the tequila. His drinks are pretty potent, so be careful.” Mama filled two glasses and handed one to me. I immediately took a sip and so did she. “I don't care how many times I get on that man's case. His head is still as hard as a brick! Just like his daddy and all three of his brothers. They're all lucky they married the right women. Even though I keep my husband on the straight and narrow, he still wants to do things his way, but he ought to know better by now.” Despite Mama's complaints, she smiled and rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. She worshipped my stepfather and everybody knew it.

“I wish I had married a man more like Elmo,” I said in a flat, weary voice. I didn't have the heart to tell Mama that her husband reminded me of an obedient dog. She probably knew that, anyway.

“What's wrong with you, girl?” Mama gasped so hard, she almost choked on her drink. “You caught you a
dentist
! If I could have got me a man like Reed, I wouldn't have given Elmo the time of night!” Mama snickered, but something told me she was serious.

I gave her a puzzled look. “Then how come you haven't bounced a brick off Elmo's head to make him mind you better, or gotten rid of him the way you did my daddy and that conniving Jamaican you married before you met Elmo?” I took another sip of my drink, glad that the buzz had dulled my senses. Otherwise, I would never have fixed my lips to ask a woman like my mother such a bold question.

“Humph! My mama didn't raise no fool! Since it's this late in the game, I'd rather keep Elmo than train a new man.” She paused and gave me a critical look. “Now you look here, girl. I don't care what's going on between you and Reed, you better go with the flow or fix it! As long as he don't beat your ass or let you catch him with another woman, you ain't got a damn thing to complain about. I wish when they got married, your sisters had hit as big a jackpot as you did. You marrying a dentist took this family to a whole new level.
Shit.
”

“There you go again! What's so great about me being married to a dentist?” I huffed. “Reed is still just a man and he can get on a woman's nerves just as quick as any other man.”

Mama placed her hand on my shoulder. “Baby, people look up to men in professions like Reed's. Dentists, or any other kind of doctor, get almost more respect and admiration than a preacher. Prestige like that goes a long way in the black community. You ought to know that by now.”

“Well, I'm here to tell you that being married to Reed is not a walk in the park. And now that I know he's capable of trying to hurt himself, I wonder about his mental state. How would you feel about having a psycho in the family?”

“Oh, pshaw! Please stop being so dramatic, girl!” She laughed, dismissing me with a wave of her hand. “Reed wasn't trying to kill himself. If he had really wanted to die, with all he must know about medicines and shit, he would have given himself some kind of lethal shot or whatnot that would have done the trick in no time. Or, he could have driven to Frisco and jumped off that Golden Gate Bridge like a
practical
suicidal person would have done. That man knew what he was doing. He was just trying to scare you. Why he felt he had to scare you, I wouldn't know, unless you want to tell me. . . .”

“I'd rather not talk about that right now.” I could tell from the disappointed look on Mama's face that she wanted to get more information from me so she could blab to the rest of the family. But this was one time I was not going to go there. There was already enough chaos going on that didn't involve me. With stories such as the elderly Asian man across the street who'd been arrested last week for beating his wife, as well as the snooty West Indian family who had moved into a house a few doors down, my family had enough subject matters to keep the gossip pot boiling for weeks. They didn't need to stir Reed and me into the mix. I knew that they eventually would, anyway, and I wanted to delay it for as long as I could. “How was work today?” I asked. Mama claimed she hated her job, but she was always eager to talk about it.

Her eyes lit up and she wiped her wet, salt-covered lips with the back of her hand. I knew I had chosen the right subject to steer her in another direction. I was sorry I hadn't done so sooner.

“Baby, I'm so glad you asked me that.” Mama rubbed the back of her neck and grimaced. “I can't wait to retire from that snake pit. I'm getting too old for the kind of shit I have to put up with. I had to break up three fights today.” There was an exasperated look on her face as she complained. “The black women can't get along with the other black women. The Hispanic women can't get along with the Asian women, and the white women can't get along with anybody, not even us guards! I don't know what this world is coming to. I tell those bitches all the time, if they hate being locked up so bad, they should have thought about that before they broke the law!” Mama paused and caressed my cheek. “Joan, you don't look good to me.” There was a concerned look on her face now. “Honey, Reed's going to be just fine. When he gets out of that hospital, I'm going to make him some chicken soup.”

“Thanks. I'm sure he'll like that.”

“Now sit here until that margarita wears off before you get back in your car. You know how I feel about drinking and driving. When you get home, I want you to read the Bible. You got a lot to be thankful for. Pray for Reed. Pray that you won't have no more turmoil in your marriage.” Mama snorted and looked at me with a wan expression on her face. “By the way, how is Lola these days?”

“She's fine. I'm having lunch with her tomorrow.”

“That's nice. I know she's your girl, but if she tries to talk you into leaving Reed, don't listen to her. He is the best you can do, and I know you know that! I'm glad I don't have to worry about you ending up in the arms of another man while you're still married, the way your sisters did.”

Mama's last comment almost made me laugh. For a woman who'd married three different men, she was clueless when it came to love and marriage. I couldn't wait to end up in the arms of another man again!

Chapter 34

Lola

“Y
OU REMEMBER
M
ARIEL
? S
HIRELLE'S NIECE
?”

Joan and I had been talking for ten minutes, and so far, we had not mentioned Reed's suicide attempt. I had decided that I wouldn't be the one to bring it up. She'd already told me that he was doing okay, so that was all that really mattered. If she wanted to discuss it, I'd listen and hopefully not say anything that would make her feel any worse.

“Yeah, I remember her. She was nice for such a cute girl. You know I can't stand good-looking females who think their shit don't stink.”

“You're not like that, Joan,” I teased.

She gave me a menacing look and shot back, “You're not either. What about Mariel?” She bit a huge plug out of the ham-and-cheese sandwich she had ordered for lunch at the deli, where I ate lunch at least once a week. Cottright's had a sandwich-and-soup counter, which was where I usually got my meals while on the job. Even though my work agreement included free snacks up to fifteen dollars a day, I liked to get away from the grocery store from time to time. I had been looking forward to my lunch date with Joan.

“Can I have your pickle?” she asked.

One thing I could say about Joan was: No matter how big of a problem she had, it rarely interfered with her appetite. If my husband had just tried to kill himself, I'd probably be in a catatonic state. She was not a callous person, so I knew she was dealing with the situation in her own way. She appeared to be as upbeat and casual as usual. And I wanted to seem as normal myself, so Mariel was a neutral enough subject for us to discuss.

“She's married and so happy with her architect husband in Seattle,” I replied as I plucked the dill pickle spear off my plate and dropped it onto Joan's.

“Well, do say,” she sneered. “I thought I told you yesterday to tell me something good today.”

“I thought I just did.”

“With my marriage being such a wreck, I don't want to hear about some other married woman being ‘so happy.' ”

“Are you ready to talk about Reed some more?” I asked in the gentlest voice I could manage.

Joan dropped her head. When she looked up at me again, her big brown eyes were shiny with tears. “I don't know what to do about him. All I know is, I can't stay married to him and be happy.”

“Then don't stay with him. When he gets out of the hospital, give him time to get his bearings back and then tell him you want out of the marriage.”

“It's not that simple, Lola. I don't think I'll find him in time, the next time. I couldn't live with another suicide in my family.” Ten years ago, Joan's favorite aunt had shot herself to death when she found out she had terminal cancer. Joan rarely mentioned it, but I knew it was always on her mind.

“Do you honestly think he'd attempt suicide again if you do leave?”

“I don't think he'll ‘
attempt
suicide' again. He'll succeed the next time.”

I looked around the deli to make sure nobody we knew was close enough to hear our conversation. “Joan, no matter what happens, I'll support you.”

“I know you will.” She took a long drink from her Diet Pepsi. Then, to my surprise, she smiled. “How did a dull woman like Mariel land an architect?”

I was tempted to tell Joan that Mariel had asked how she had landed a dentist. “I guess she was in the right place at the right time.” I continued without hesitation. “She met her husband online. Just like Shirelle!”

Joan's eyes got wide and her smile got even bigger. “They both married architects that they met on the Internet? Get out of here!”

I nodded. “Mariel and I are Facebook friends. I checked out some of the pictures she posted of herself, her sons, and her husband. The kids are real cute and the husband's not a bad-looking man. And he looks to be about our age.”

Joan gave me a thoughtful look. Then she waved her hand and exhaled. I couldn't tell from her gestures what she was thinking or what she was going to say next. With a profound sigh, she asked, “Is Shirelle still married to the man she met online?” The way a grimace suddenly covered her face, it seemed as if she wanted, or expected, me to answer her question with a negative answer. I was glad I had more good news to report.

“Yes, she is. And according to Mariel, she couldn't be happier. She has a daughter now too.

“That's wonderful! I'm happy that Shirelle finally has a husband of her own. She was ‘the other woman' in her mens' lives too long.”

“I guess the Internet works out for some women,” I admitted. “I'm glad you're having so much fun fooling around with your cyber boos.”

“My ‘cyber boos,' now that's real cute.” She snorted. “The way your love life is going, I'm surprised you haven't taken the plunge and landed you a few ‘cyber boos.' There are tons of them up for grabs. Face it, honey. Internet romance is the future. It's going to replace almost every other thing we've been doing to meet new partners.”

“I can't stop thinking about the ones it didn't work out for. I'm through with the bar scene. I'd like to meet my soul mate at church.” I swallowed hard and gave Joan a tentative look.

She stared at me like I'd just said something ludicrous and after I'd thought about it for a few seconds, I realized I had.

“So you think that just because a man is in the Church, he's safe?”

“Maybe—”

“Remember the woman who used to play the piano at Second Baptist Church?”

“Of course I remember Norma Yates. What about her?”

“You forgot how she married the choir director and he stabbed her to death a year later when he caught her in bed with another man”

“Yeah, but—”

“What about the church secretary and the usher? He shot and killed her when she told him she wanted to marry another man.”

“There are exceptions to every rule.”

“Exactly. Men in the Church are no safer than men in a crack house. You can sit here gnawing on that turkey sandwich like you know it all, but you don't.”

“Yeah, but I think you should really work on your marriage and stop fooling around with your Internet Romeos.”

“Now that's even cuter than ‘cyber boo,' ” Joan snickered.

I gave her a look so critical, it made her shudder. I knew she was going to do more than that when she heard what I said next. “Your wandering eye is going to get you in the biggest mess! I've known you most of my life and I'm just now finding out how shallow and superficial you really are—”

Joan twisted her mouth and frowned. “Lola, kiss my ass and go to hell,” she snarled, attempting to rise. I grabbed her wrist; gripping it so hard, I could feel her pulse. “When you are ready to talk to me like a mature woman, call me. You're the
last
person who needs to be judging me!” In spite of what she'd just said, and with my fingers still around her wrist, she plopped back down into her seat and took another sip of her Pepsi.

“I didn't mean that the way it sounded!” I hollered. I removed my fingers from her wrist and patted the top of her hand. “I'm so sorry. You're no more shallow and superficial than I am, I guess.” I could feel my face burning with shame. Had Joan called me “shallow” and “superficial” first, I would have been just as upset as she was.

“I'm glad to hear the pot apologize to the kettle,” she said with a smirk.

I shrugged and tapped my fingers on top of the table for a few seconds as I looked around, still trying to make up for the stupid comment that had slipped out of my mouth. “From now on, I'll keep my opinions to myself,” I said. “Especially when it comes to your sex life.” It was then that I noticed the daily newspaper sticking out of Joan's purse. “Are there any sales or coupons today?” I asked, nodding toward the newspaper. She pulled it out of her purse and placed it faceup on the table between our plates.

“Why don't you take a look yourself,” she suggested, pursing her lips.

“This is yesterday's paper,” I said, glancing at the date.

“Look at what's on the front page first,” Joan ordered with a reserved look on her face.

I silently read the lead story's headline:
POLICE ARE BAFFLED BY MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF THREE LOCAL WOMEN
.

“Well, say something,” Joan prodded.

“This is so sad,” I replied, feeling a pang of sadness as I read a few lines in the first paragraph. I stared at the faces of the three women who had disappeared within a twelve-month period of time. “This reporter seems to think these disappearances are related and the cops are still investigating. Whoever is responsible for these women missing must be one smart cookie—or three smart cookies, I should say. They've all probably done something crazy to women before, and if the cops don't stop them soon, they'll do it again.” When I looked up, Joan was staring at me with the strangest look on her face. “What's wrong with you? Why are you gazing at me like that?”

“Lola, look at those women and tell me what you see. I noticed it when I read the paper yesterday.”

“What's the matter with them?” I asked.

“Take a real good look at those three women and tell me what you see,” she insisted.

I gazed at the pictures again. “They're all black, attractive, and in their thirties. So what?” I said with a shrug. I held the newspaper closer to my face and squinted. “One was a newly wedded secretary, one was a nurse—she must be the one from Seattle that Mariel mentioned to me—and the other one was a stripper.” I let out a loud breath and looked at Joan. “I'll bet the nurse and the secretary had mean men and those men are involved. Hmmm,” I said as I scanned the lengthy article some more. “The nurse's boyfriend even admits that he'd argued with her the night before she disappeared, and the woman who lives in the apartment across from hers says she had to call the cops to break up one of their fights the day before. And the stripper? There's just no telling what happened to her, with all the creeps she must meet in her line of work. Well, if you lay down with dogs, you're bound to get fleas.” I shivered and shook my head.

“Lola, those women look enough alike to be sisters.”

I looked at the pictures
again.
It took me a few seconds to see all of the similarities. And it was true. The women looked enough alike to be related. “You're right. They do resemble one another. The article doesn't say anything about them being related, though.” I hunched my shoulders and gave Joan a puzzled look. “Am I missing something here?”

“They are not related. They were random victims. Isn't there something else about them? Look at those faces real hard.”

“They're all very pretty,” I said.

“And . . . they all look like
you,
girl!”

“Me?” I blinked and looked at the pictures again. I didn't know why I had not noticed it before. But all three of the missing women did resemble me. I swallowed hard and looked in Joan's eyes with my heart beating like a drum. “So you think a maniac is going around killing women who look like me?”

“What do you think?”

“I think it's just a coincidence.”

“One missing woman who looks like you is a coincidence. To me, three sounds like some clever criminal's MO. That's what I think.”

I gave Joan a dismissive wave and said with a chuckle, “I think you need to stop watching so many crime TV shows.”

“Well, maybe you're right. It's just a coincidence. But it just seems mighty peculiar to me.”

“Girl, any and everything can be called ‘peculiar' if you think about it,” I insisted.

“Oh, well. I'm glad three women who look like me aren't missing.”

We laughed. Joan folded the newspaper and slid it back into her purse and we finished our lunch.