Authors: Endy
Her heart began to race, and her hands began to shake. She turned into the cemetery and stopped at the office to get the location of Ishmael’s grave. This would be the first time she had visited it. She missed him so much. If it weren’t for Beverly, she might be in an insane asylum.
On that horrible day when Ishmael died, she had gone to Beverly’s house. She was too afraid to go home alone. Beverly and her kids came and stayed with her for a few weeks. Beverly was a good friend. She stayed by Desiree’s side, encouraging her and holding her when she cried. Later Desiree found out she was carrying Ishmael’s child. The experience Desiree went through also rubbed off on Beverly. But Desiree used her pregnancy as a means of holding on. She knew that she never wanted her unborn child to have to go through the life of living in the rough streets of the inner city.
Beverly realized she had told Desiree’s whereabouts, which led to her kidnapping. It hurt her to no end. When Desiree forgave her, she knew it was time to change.
Beverly had been a recovering alcoholic of ten months. She was attending school to be a nurse’s aide and one day hoped to become a nurse. She was drop-dead gorgeous as long as she didn’t open her mouth. Her teeth were still missing and rotten, but she was working on getting dentures.
The women drove in silence as they rounded the curvy road in the cemetery. The brown BMW was about four car lengths back still following them. Desiree parked on the side of the road and turned off the ignition.
“You ready?” she asked Beverly.
“Un-uh, Rae-Rae, not this one. I can’t go see Ish’s grave,” she said as tears filled her eyes. “I’ll stay here with Little Ish,” she said, looking back at him, smiling.
He was the spitting image of his father. Desiree understood and patted her friend on the hand. “Okay. I’ll be back.” She grabbed the flowers off the backseat, smiled at her son, and got out of the car to begin the walk up the hill.
She looked at the names as she walked down the row. There it was, Ishmael Willie Jenkins. She walked up to the tombstone and knelt on the freshly mowed lawn. She placed the fresh-cut flowers into the vase that sat in front of the tombstone.
She began to talk to him.
“Hello, Ishmael. I know you think I’m still mad at you, but I’m not. I forgive you, and I still love you very much.” Tears filled her eyes as she spoke.
Meantime Beverly sat in the car and stared off into space. She was crying thinking about Ishmael. He was always so nice to her. He helped her whenever she needed it, and he never judged her. If only he could see her now. She was a changed woman, and she knew he would be proud of her.
She smiled to herself when all of a sudden the car door opened abruptly.
Desiree continued to talk to Ishmael and cry. She told him about her finishing school and the great job she had. She told him how he wouldn’t believe that Beverly had gotten herself together. She laughed and talked to him like he was sitting right in front of her.
Desiree saw a shadow on the ground. She thought it was Beverly.
“You changed your mind, huh?” Desiree asked as she began to turn around.
“Don’t move,” a female voice said.
Her heart began to beat two times its normal speed. This couldn’t be happening again. She thought about Beverly and hoped she would come to help her.
“What do you want?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“You had the only person I loved more than myself killed,” the woman spit with venom in her voice.
“Who? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do, bitch,” the woman growled.
“Who are you talking about?” Desiree asked with tears running down her face.
“Zola, bitch. My lover. My heart. She was all I had,” Nettie yelled, choking back her own tears.
“Zola?”
“Yes, that’s right. Zola.”
“I swear to you, I didn’t know anything about her until that day she died. I’m sorry you lost your...lover, but I didn’t have her killed. You have to believe me,” Desiree said, panicking.
Where is Beverly?
she thought.
“Have you ever heard that saying revenge is sweet and payback’s a bitch?” Nettie asked.
“Yes, please don’t hurt me,” Desiree begged.
“Too late.”
Nettie grabbed a handful of Desiree’s hair and pulled her head back so fast that Desiree didn’t know what was going on. Nettie spit a razor in her hand and sliced Desiree’s neck all in one movement. Desiree fell face first onto Ishmael’s grave.
Nettie walked away satisfied with her work. She walked past Desiree’s car and looked at Beverly as she lay hanging out of the car with blood pouring from her neck.
Nettie got into her BMW, checked her reflection in the mirror, and smiled at herself. She then looked over at the baby squirming around in the car seat that she had place on the passenger side. Nettie put the pacifier that had fallen out in the infant’s mouth then she drove off down the narrow road, not giving a shit if someone saw her or not.
This tale was not written to glorify drugs, murder, or torture, but to let society know that fictitious stories are not too far from the truth of everyday survival In My Hood.
Don’t miss the print and e-reader versions of In My Hood 2 and In My Hood 3, available from melodramapublishing.com, and wherever books are sold.