Authors: Laurie Jean Cannady
Despite the growing dysfunction in our home, there were moments of normalcy, when I could suck what it meant to be a kid into my lungs and run until breath became one with the wind. One of those moments occurred when Momma and Mr. Todd took us to visit his nephew in Academy Park. I was excited about traveling to our old stomping ground and hoped I'd be able to wave “hello” to our old house on Dorset Avenue, where things had been quieter, before Mr. Todd.
As we pulled onto the road, which ran parallel to a line of houses decorating it like Christmas lights, I felt a giddiness flowing through me, like I was traveling to a meeting with an old friend. I didn't get to see our old house, but there was some comfort in seeing parts of a place that had once held our family as a unit in harmony.
When we pulled up to Mr. Todd's nephew's house, there were several people sitting on the porch, smoking cigarettes and drinking. Mr. Todd introduced us to each of them, but by the time he was done I couldn't remember most of their names. The only people I remembered were Carmen and Michael. Michael was Mr. Todd's nephew. He was a handsome fellow, with a small goatee and a mini-afro to match. He had dark eyes that were the same color as his hair and he smiled so widely his teeth looked as if they had been chiseled inside his mouth. Next to Michael stood his fiancée, Carmen. When I looked at her, I heard songs without words. She stood majestically, with cocoa skin and long wavy hair plaited into a thick rope.
She had the daintiest of features, with a softly curved nose and lips that were slightly pursed. Every bit of her exposed skin was the same color, as she stood in front of us in a flowered dress, with a cast on her leg. I couldn't find one blemish that interrupted the continuum of perfection she appeared to own. She too smiled with enthusiasm, but her smile was softer and more welcoming than
Michael's. Momma and Mr. Todd began doling out hugs and the adults went into the house. By that time, some of the neighborhood kids came over and asked if we wanted to play.
That's one of the things I always loved about Academy Park. You didn't have to know anybody or be the best of friends. If we had open space, kids, and time, there was fun to be had. While we were playing, Carmen came to the door and handed us sodas and chips. “Y'all are so cute,” she said as she handed us the drinks. “And you have some pretty eyes, Laurie.” I knew from the aches in my cheeks I was smiling too hard, but she had called my eyes pretty, which had to mean something special because she was so beautiful herself. From inside the house, I saw the adults in the room dancing, drinking, and smoking. Surprisingly, Momma looked to be having a good time even though she never smoked nor drank. I think it was the normalcy she was drunk off of and the fact that this night was a reprieve from the prison that life had become with Mr. Todd.
Carmen stood on the porch waiting for us to finish our drinks so she could collect our trash. I heard Don Cornelius's voice wafting from the television screen as he introduced the next act. I almost screamed when I heard my favorite group, New Edition, singing “Cool It Now.”
“I love that song,” I squealed as I grabbed Mary's hand and began dancing around. Carmen laughed at me, which caused all my siblings to join in on the fun. Champ dropped to the ground and began doing the worm, which is not that simple a feat on a concrete porch. Dathan and Tom-Tom were breakdance fighting, throwing ticking punches and karate chops. Mary and I erupted into the synchronized snake, going lower and lower as we went from right to left. And we sang, “Cool it now/ You better cool it down/ Oh watch out/ You're gonna lose control/ Cool it now/ You better slow it down/ Slow it down/ You're gonna fall in love.” We sang that song as if we were New Edition and we were singing to Carmen. She clapped along with us and complimented us on our moves, which made us dance even harder. We danced for Carmen as long as the song was on and she was nice enough to let
us peek through the screen door while Don Cornelius interviewed Ralph, Ronnie, Bobby, Ricky, and Mike. We had more fun that night than we had the entire year Momma and Mr. Todd were married. Mr. Todd got credit for it because he'd given us a piece of his happy family.
A week after our visit to Carmen and Michael's, Momma was ironing our clothes for school while listening to one of the morning radio shows. I was trying to find my shoes and waiting for Momma to hand me my warm clothes. It was unusually cold that morning, and it seemed Momma was taking too long to finish ironing. I used that time to focus on Laid Back's song, “White Horse.” I never understood why the singer instructed listeners to ride a white horse, white pony, and to be a bitch if they wanted to be rich, but I loved the beat of the song. The zips and drumbeat made me tap my feet even if I didn't want to.
The newsbreak interrupted my jamming, but I just kept on tapping my feet to the sounds playing in my head. Suddenly, I heard Momma gasp.
“What's wrong, Momma?” I asked, but her response was the raising of her pointer finger to her mouth. We both listened to the broadcast together: “Ratcliffe lived on Dekalb Avenue. Police have no suspects at the moment, but they believe she might have known her attacker because of information gathered at the crime scene. If you have any information, contact the Portsmouth Police Department.”
Momma looked at me with tears in her eyes. “Oh my God, that's Carmen.” It didn't register as quickly as it should have. Carmen, not my Carmen from the other night. Not that beautiful woman with a smile that made everyone who saw her smile too.
“What happened, Momma?” I asked.
“I don't know, Laurie. I don't know.”
I heard the newscaster say strangled, beaten, raped. I knew what those words meant. I imagined Carmen's pristine neck, the perfect brown being darkened by someone's hands. I imagined someone hurting her in the way Pee Wee had hurt me, the way
he'd hurt the girl he'd attacked. The thought was too much to wrap my brain around.
“Come and get ready for school,” Momma said shaking her head as she handed me my clothes. I quickly dressed, trying to hide my tears for Carmen. I rushed past my siblings unable to explain why I was crying. Throughout that school day, I couldn't concentrate. Even when Jackie tried to joke on me, I didn't respond. There were things more important than putting him in his place. I needed to understand what had happened to Carmen. The killer was someone she knew. This perplexed me. How could anyone who had witnessed her light have hurt her in that way? How much anger did one person have to possess in order to look into those sparkling eyes and choke the life out of them? I had so many questions and the school day made me wait too long for answers.
While walking from the bus stop, everything I saw, heard, and felt vaulted me back to Carmen. When the wind brushed my cheek, I was reminded it would never brush Carmen's cheek again. As the birds frolicked in a puddle of water and sang songs to one another, I mourned the fact that Carmen would never hear those performances again. As I walked into the house and looked into Momma's tear-stained eyes, I knew Carmen's mother had those same eyes, but hers would never connect with her daughter's again.
Miss Minnie and Momma were sitting in the kitchen, drinking tea. Their conversation stopped abruptly as soon as I walked into the house. I hugged Momma and went into my bedroom where I'd be able to hear everything they were saying. “I can't believe the police came here.” Momma's voice sounded labored. “Do you think he could have done it?”
“Nah,” Miss Minnie replied. “They probably just came because he was in prison for killing somebody before.” At first I wasn't sure of the “he” Momma was talking about, but then I understood. She was talking about Mr. Todd. I almost ran into the kitchen with Momma and Miss Minnie.
“I know, but he was attracted to her. I saw that even when we were at the house. I could tell he liked her. Everybody could.”
“That doesn't mean he did it,” Miss Minnie replied.
“But he wasn't home last night. He stayed out all night and when he came home he had scratches on him. I even saw some blood.”
“Lois, you told the police what you know and that's all you can do. Didn't they talk to him?”
“Yeah, he told them he was with some girl and they were smoking, drinking, and I know what else they were doing.”
“That's not your concern. If you told the police what you know and they aren't doing anything about it, then what can you do?”
“But if he did this, Miss Minnie, I can't have him around my kids. He stuck a coat hanger in her and strangled her with it. I can't have him in this house.” Momma began to sniffle and her voice broke at the end of her sentence.
“You can do it because you got to. You don't have anywhere to take these kids and the cops haven't said he did it. Don't you think if they thought he did it, he'd be in jail or at the police station right now?”
“But they found his fingerprints there and they said that she knew the person because she let him in. She even drank with him. I just know it was him.”
“You don't know nothing. You know you need to take care of these kids. You know you can't put him out of this house. You gotta know that until you can know something else. Now, all you need to be doing is finding somewhere for you and these kids to live after all of this is gone. 'Cause the way he's going, that'll be soon enough. Carmen is dead. God rest her soul, but you and them kids are still alive and that's gotta be your worry now. You gotta keep them in a house, fed, and safe.”
I had heard enough. I'd never even considered Mr. Todd as the killer, but he'd already killed someone before and Momma said he liked Carmen more than he should have, more than his nephew would have liked. My heart ached for Carmen and I wished I could have warned her not to open that door, not to invite him in, not to pour that drink, and not to die. I closed my eyes and stifled my cries. Darkness allowed me to see her smile clearly and the innate
happiness in her eyes, opening the door, welcoming family, as she often had. I see her dainty brown fingers pouring him a drink and saying, “Michael's at work.”
I see him walking toward her, saying, “I'm not here to see Michael. I'm here to see you.” And her face turning, like Momma's had over the past year, from happiness, to anger, to terror. He grabs her as she attempts to run. Momma said he had scratches, which meant she had fought. I see those delicate fingers scratching, reaching for his eyes, his neck, any parts that will make him let go. He grabs a hold of her waist, flips her around, holds her down, covers her mouth, maybe even pulls her hair. His largeness on top of her, pushing the air out of her as she bites into him, claws him, closes her legs to him. And he opens her like scissors, just as Pee Wee had opened me, and he presses into her with the force of a battering ram, just as Pee Wee had done to me.
His sweat drips into her eyes, against her pink lips. With one hand, he grips her wrists, then her neck, but it doesn't end there. He grabs a wire hanger. Maybe he got it from the closet. Maybe it had held his coat as Carmen told him he needed to leave. Wherever it had been, it is in his hands and he is shaping it into a device, a tool that will allow him to reach deeper. I hear her scream, see her writhe in pain as he moves the hanger around in her.
He bends the hanger around his hands and wraps it around her neck. Her fingers reach for his face, then her neck, then back to him. She looks into his eyes, trying to help him remember he is human and so is she, but there is fire in those eyes and no seeing past that.
He pushes harder, deeper. She feels colder, lighter. His faceâhard, contortedâis covered in sweat and pain.
He keeps pushing. He stops breathing. No, she stops breathing. He is still pushing. Finally, he exhales as she exhales in finality and her last glimpse of life is his eyes, which no longer hold anger, no longer drip rage; they are a replica of hers, etched out of fear and wonder.
I could not contain my tears. I felt Carmen dead inside of me as if I were dying on the floor next to her. I couldn't breathe, couldn't feel my limbs. I wanted to die with her. I wanted her to live with
me. But mostly, I was afraid. I thought about going into the kitchen with Momma and placing all my fears on her, but I wasn't supposed to be hearing. I wasn't supposed to know all I knew.
I feared Mr. Todd's return, and whether I'd see the anger that had sparked Carmen's death in his eyes. But when he came home, he just looked tired and not like “the stuff” tired, just sleepy like he'd been working for years and that evening was his first break. He was especially nice to Momma and I kept seeing him looking at her even though she wouldn't look at him. He helped set the table and he even helped Momma cook. They stood in the kitchen together, allowing the water, pots, and pans to speak for them. It was the quietest, most peaceful night we'd had in a long time, which made me doubt what I'd seen in my mind. Could that kind of rage be held in the quiet being that ambled around the house looking at all of us shyly? I didn't really know.
After dinner, Momma told us it was time to go to bed even though it was only seven o'clock. We began preparing for sleep when I heard Momma and Mr. Todd talking.
“You know I couldn't do anything like that.”
“I don't know,” Momma said. “You had blood on your shirt.”
“You know what I was doing, but I wasn't killing that girl.”
“Yeah, okay,” was all Momma said.
“If you think I did this why are you and your kids still here?”
“You're right,” Momma replied. Then she yelled, “Kids, come here. Hurry up.” We five ran into the living room as Momma pushed us to the door, out to the porch and into the front yard. “We're not staying in the house with a murderer,” she yelled.
I wanted Momma to be quiet, to think what she wanted but to choose her words carefully. I agreed with Momma, but I would never talk to a murderer in the way she was. Still, I followed, happy at the thought of finally being free of Mr. Todd. He ran after us, calling after Momma. “Lois, come on. You know I didn't do this.”