“And I always supported that. So why did you cut me off, Alice? I was your best friend. How could you move away and forget about us?”
Because I was in love with you and you were in love with someone else.
But she could never tell him that. “I’m sorry, Marcus. When I left, I was dealing with all these ambiguous feelings about my mother, my painful memories from school…I know it wasn’t right, but I guess I put everything behind me. Including you. But I swear, Marcus, I never forgot you.”
“And what about my wedding?” Marcus’s tone held both disappointment and disbelief. “Why didn’t you call or come back for that?”
Alice paused. “Truth be told,” she answered softly, “I didn’t want to see you marry Tanisha.”
He met her eyes, giving her a puzzled look.
“She never liked me, Marcus. And you were always so wonderful. I thought you were making a mistake and I didn’t want to be there to witness it.”
Once again, he looked at her, then back at the road. He didn’t say anything, and Alice wasn’t sure if he bought her explanation. She leaned her head back against the head rest.
Silence fell between them. There was so much left unsaid, but for now, this was a start.
Hopefully while she was here in Chicago, they could work at being friends again. Especially since he helped out at the theater and there was a good chance she would see him every week. She didn’t want them to feel awkward around each other. Not after how close they’d once been.
His marriage to Tanisha had been part of the reason she’d let their friendship fade the first time. That and the fact that he hadn’t returned her love. But she was over him now, and she was a much stronger person than she’d been thirteen years ago, so Alice didn’t plan to make the same mistake twice. If they managed to recapture the friendship they’d lost, this time when she returned to Los Angeles, she’d make sure they always stayed in touch.
She wouldn’t let distance come between them again.
Alice’s head itched from a mixture of heat and sweat, but she refused to take off her baseball cap as she ran. In the four days since the attack on her car at the theater, there hadn’t been any more incidents, and she felt relatively safe. But she still didn’t want to take any chances, which is why she made sure she was as unrecognizable as possible when she went on her morning jog.
Her Baldwin Hills neighborhood in California was so completely different from this south Chicago neighborhood where she had grown up. In California, the homes were brighter, in various shades of creams, pinks, and yellows. Warm colors. The homes here were dark-colored brick, which seemed to suck up all the sunshine. Her modern Baldwin Hills home rested in the hillside, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. It was a beautiful view to wake up to every day, certainly more beautiful than looking out
the bedroom window at the old houses in this neighborhood.
That was why Alice couldn’t understand the fondness she felt as she jogged through these south Chicago streets every morning.
She always ventured outside after the children had gone to school and the streets were quiet. But as she jogged, it was as if the streets were alive with action as memories played in her mind like an old movie reel.
She could see a group of girls playing double-dutch on the street corner, laughing and having a wonderful time. She hadn’t thought about it in years, but there was a time when she had been one of those girls. Granted, she’d been about ten or eleven at the time, before she’d started to put on all that weight, but she
had
had some friends. She had been happy.
The year before high school, her very best friend, Lynette Jackson, had moved south with her family. She’d been crushed because she and Lynette had both had a fondness for acting. After jumping rope for a little while, she and Lynette would always take off and venture around the neighborhood, conjuring up exciting stories about where they lived. Then they would act them out.
“I swear that house is haunted,” Lynette had said once when they passed a house that had been boarded up for years. “Gosh, what do you think happened?”
That was all Lynette had to ask to get Alice’s mind churning with ideas. “I know. Everything was peaceful there. Everyone was happy. Then one day, the family just disappeared. No bodies, no nothing.
And everybody is afraid to go in the house now because they fear they’ll disappear too.”
“Creepy,” Lynette had replied, her eyes dancing with excitement.
Alice had never found a friend like her again, except for Marcus. By the time she went to high school, she was at least thirty pounds overweight, which made her an oddball. Other students had immediately ostracized her. She’d further retreated into her own comfortable shell, because in that shell, she could dream that the world was the way she wanted it to be. But as her high school years went on, people picked on her more. And she’d gained more weight.
Only in her fantasies, at the theater, with Marcus and with her father did she find some type of comfort and happiness. Then her father had died, and her mother had blamed her for his death and more or less completely cut her off emotionally.
Alice took a deep invigorating breath as she increased her speed. It was weird going through the neighborhood and seeing familiar landmarks. The park she walked by every day from school. The church they’d attended every Sunday. It was sad to see that a few more places had been boarded up, like Mr. Harris’s ice cream shop, where on many a Saturday afternoon her father had taken her for a sundae. Now, she had no desire to conjure up some silly story about what mysterious thing might have happened to the place. She was too old for that.
She rounded the corner onto London Street and slowed to a fast walk. Several seconds later, she was at her mother’s house. She stuck the key in the door but as she turned it she found it was already open.
Her heart went haywire. She knew she’d locked the door when she left for her jog. When she’d left the house, her mother had been taking a nap. Marie was at work and Mia was at school, so who was inside her mother’s house?
Cautiously, she stepped inside. Her alarm turned to curiosity when she heard boisterous laughter and chatter coming from upstairs. She climbed the stairs two at a time and followed the laughter to her mother’s bedroom.
Inside, her mother sat up with her back resting against the headboard while another woman sat on the edge of the bed. As Alice stepped into the room, her mother’s laughter faded, and the woman turned to face her.
“Oh, hello. Rosa, this must be your daughter.” A smile spread across the woman’s face.
“Hello,” Alice said, though she wasn’t quite sure who the woman was. Wait. There was something familiar about her. Was that Mrs. Ellery? The woman who had once been so thin you could see her bones through her skin? The voice sounded the same, but…
Her mother answered the question for her. “Yes, Clara. This is Alice.”
“Look at you!” the woman exclaimed. She stood and walked over to Alice, taking her hands in hers. “You’re so beautiful. Just like you are on TV. I always wondered if it was just makeup and lighting, but honey, you look good!”
“Mrs. Ellery?”
“Yes, baby, it’s me. And you can call me Clara.”
“Wow. It’s been ages.” And she looked completely different. No longer skin and bones, the
light-skinned woman was heavyset. Her hair had gone from vibrant black to completely gray. Instead of the thirteen years it had actually been, Clara looked like she had aged thirty years or so. It was such a drastic change, Alice could hardly believe it. “How have you been?”
The older woman sighed. “Life has been hard, but I’m still hanging in there. With God’s help, I make it from day to day.”
“Amen to that,” Rosa chimed.
“You be thankful for the time you have with your mother, you hear?” She looked from Alice to Rosa. “I know how quickly you can lose it all.”
Alice glanced past Clara to her mother and found her staring at her. But after a second, her mother looked away.
“Well, I won’t keep you, Rosa. I only came to say hi.”
Alice expected Clara to walk back to her mother, but instead she surprised her with a hug. The woman seemed to put all her heart and soul into it, and Alice felt warm.
“It’s so good to see you home,” Clara said.
“Thank you.” It was one of the warmest welcomes she’d received since her return to Chicago.
Clara then slowly walked back to the bed. Bending, she pressed her cheek against Rosa’s. “You take care, you hear? I’ll come back and visit you soon.”
“I’ll see you out,” Alice said.
“No, I’m fine. You stay with your mother.”
Alice watched the older woman’s retreating form. She definitely walked much slower, and she favored her left leg. She wondered what had happened to make her age so quickly in such a short time.
From what Alice remembered, Clara had had a son who was a couple of years younger than Alice. But the woman’s words about being thankful for the time she had with her mother had a haunting quality and Alice couldn’t help asking, “Did something happen to her son?”
Rosa shook her head ruefully. “Leukemia. The poor thing. One day he was healthy and strong, heading off to college on a football scholarship. The next…” Rosa’s voice ended on a sigh.
“No,” Alice gasped. Staring at her mother, the reality of just how fragile life was hit home. She wondered if she and her mother would ever make amends before it was too late.
“I feel so bad for Clara. He was her only son. After he died, she got so depressed that she just ate and ate and didn’t stop. That’s why she’s so big now. Poor thing. If she can just pull herself together, I know she can lose all that weight and be pretty again.”
You have such a pretty face. Sweetheart, if you would just lose some weight…
She had heard those words and others like them so often in her life that hearing them now made her want to scream. Why couldn’t people accept others for who they were, not how they looked?
Why hadn’t her own mother been able to accept and love her for who she was?
Alice held her tongue. Rosa was weak and didn’t need her anger. Still, she couldn’t help wondering if her mother had always been ashamed of her when she was young for being so fat. If she was even good enough now.
She felt a heavy pressure on her chest, squeezing
the air from her lungs as she tried to push back her tears.
“Alice?”
Alice looked to her mother, hopeful. “Mother?”
“Can we talk?”
Her heart thudding in her chest, Alice approached the bed and sat. “Yes. I’d like that.”
Rosa folded her hands in her lap. “I have a couple things to say, and I hope you’ll hear me out.”
“Okay.” Alice wondered if her mother was finally going to say what she’d always wanted to hear: that she was sorry, that she hadn’t meant to love her less than Marie, and would she forgive her?
“Marie and I have talked about this, and we’re not sure you should be doing that job at the theater.”
Alice’s heart sank as shock washed over her.
This
was what her mother wanted to talk to her about? “It’s too late,” she told her matter-of-factly, hoping she kept the disappointment from her voice. “I’m already doing it.”
“You were always too stubborn to listen, but hear me out. Marie doesn’t think you’re setting a good example for Mia, and I can’t blame her.”
It was like Alice had stepped back in time thirteen years. Once again, her mother was disapproving of her career choice, even though she’d made a success of herself. The reality hurt. “I am showing Mia that if you put your mind to it, you can make your dreams come true.”
Even if you don’t have the support of your family.
“Marie doesn’t want her pursuing Hollywood dreams. And neither do I.”
“Why not?” Alice stood. It felt like troops were doing battle inside her stomach.
“I know you don’t want to listen, but what about the recent tabloid story? Don’t you think something like that will affect Mia in a negative way, give her all sorts of bad ideas?”
Alice gasped.
“Yes, I know. Marie told me.”
Her sister had betrayed her. God, how could she do this? Alice had specifically told her not to tell her mother about the story to spare her any unnecessary anxiety.
“It’s not true,” Alice felt compelled to tell her mother. But there was doubt in her mother’s eyes as she stared back at her. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“The point is this is an example of the type of thing that can happen when you get caught up in the Hollywood lifestyle. I already lost you to that. I don’t want to lose my granddaughter too.”
You lost me long before I left
, Alice wanted to retort, but didn’t dare. How could she argue with her mother when she was recovering from a heart attack?
Alice took a deep breath to calm herself. “I
like
working at the theater. You should see the kids, Mother. They’re so full of life and dreams—”
“Why do you insist on hurting me?”
Her mother’s words stabbed at her like a knife. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“I’ve lost so much already. You’d think you could do this one thing for me.”
Alice spun around and faced the window. The weather had changed from bright and sunny to dark and gloomy, almost as though it had been scripted to match this scene.
“Did you tell Sara what I told you to tell her?”
“Not yet.”
“I’d appreciate it if you would.”
God, her mother was impossible. Not even her aunt could call to wish her well and be appreciated for the effort.
“Don’t worry. I will.” Alice crossed to the bedroom door. Aunt Sara would no doubt be offended, but if that’s what her mother wanted, so be it.
“Alice?” Gone was her mother’s strong voice, replaced by a soft, almost weak-sounding croak.
As Alice stared at her, emotions warred inside her. She was frustrated that her mother wasn’t well enough for them to have the kind of discussion she craved. But every time her mother seemed weak or in pain, Alice’s heart ached for her.
“Yes, Mother?”
“Can you get me some water? All this talking has made my throat dry.”
Disappointment washed over her like a cold morning breeze. Alice hugged her torso to fight off the chill. But it was pointless. The chill came from the inside out.
And as she made her way down to the kitchen, she reminded herself that the happy endings she often dreamed of didn’t truly happen in real life. Only in the movies.
Alice was sitting on the living-room sofa with her legs curled beneath her, one of the thick volumes of children’s plays in her lap. But her mind wasn’t on the selection of plays, and when she heard Marie
enter the house, she jumped to her feet and met her in the foyer.
“Hello, Alice.”
“You told Mom about the tabloid story?”
“Oh, that.” Marie slipped off her leather jacket and placed it on the coat tree. “Yeah, I did.”
“Why would you do that, Marie? You promised me you wouldn’t tell her.”
“She’s our mother. Don’t you think she has a right to know?”
“This wasn’t about her not knowing. This was about her health.” Alice was glad she’d told Marie a white lie about the car. Instead of telling her about the knife and note stuck in her tire, Alice had told her that the tire had blown while she’d been driving.
“It just came out. We were talking about you teaching the class at the theater, and…”
“You don’t want me teaching the class.”
Marie folded her arms across her chest as she faced her sister. “No. I don’t.”
“Why not?”
Marie didn’t answer right away, leading Alice to believe she didn’t have a good reason for such a wish. What harm could come of her giving her time to the theater? In fact, just yesterday, Tanisha had called her with the wonderful news that a major computer software firm had learned of the theater’s plight and was giving them a very generous donation. She’d told Marie that, but her sister hadn’t been impressed.
“I don’t think you’re presenting an accurate picture of Hollywood to my daughter,” Marie said.
“This has nothing to do with Mia. This has to do with the fact that even now, after I’ve made something of myself, you can’t be happy for me.”