Chapter 26
ASHA
I
had never wanted a dog in the first place so Peaches had to go. I dropped him off at the dog pound one morning on my way to work and promptly erased him from my brain.
Just when Randy finally stopped calling me, I had to call him. I forgot that I lent him my mother's prized autographed copy of Miles Davis's
Kind Of Blue
album.
Saundra would have never forgiven me for losing it.
It was a nerve-popping day at the office because many executives were out and that meant more work for everyone else. My mood was so pissy when I came home that I had to drink a cocktail before calling to track down the album.
When I finally picked up the receiver to dial Randy, I took a deep breath and then forced myself to punch the numbers. With every ring of his phone, my nerves felt tighter and tighter.
“Yes?” A woman's voice answered softly.
Oh, Mr. Randy sure recovered fast. But then again, he probably had this chick on the side the whole time.
“May I speak to Randy Thompson please?” I said, trying to sound like it was a business call. She paused for a long time.
Uh-oh
I thought to myself; she's probably going to start that “my man” shit.
“I'm sorry to tell you this but Randy died yesterday,” she said with increasing emotion.
“Excuse me?” I asked, not believing what I heard.
“Randy was found in his apartment by the landlord.”
My heartbeat had gradually increased in speed and now it was thundering relentlessly in my chest. My mouth was drying up and I knew I had to say something before all the moisture disappeared.
“How . . . What . . . Oh, my God,” I stuttered putting my hand over my mouth.
“His neighbor said Randy had his music blaring and he called the landlord to complain. Randy
never
played his music that loud and then . . .”
The woman began to cry and I had a lump in my throat the size of an apple. The shock of this news left me temporarily mute and I waited helplessly for her to finish her story.
“He had a heart attack. He was found slumped over on the toilet with liquor bottles everywhere. My poor cousin,” she said, breaking down into a long sob.
The phone felt like a barbell in my hand and I struggled desperately to keep the weight near my ear. The weakness in my upper body quickly spread like a virus to my legs and I knew if I tried to stand I'd buckle like a newborn fawn. I parted my dry lips in an attempt to speak.
“Oh . . . noooo.”
“I can't believe it either; he had everything going for himself. Are you a friend of his?” she asked, sniveling after every word.
“Yes, I . . . I . . . just can't . . .” I mumbled.
“I know, dear; it's a hard time for all of us; but the Lord will pull us through. Let me have your name and number so that I can inform you of the funeral arrangements. By the way, I'm his cousin Dorothy Jenkins. I will be arranging everything because his mother is overcome with grief.”
When she mentioned a funeral, my body froze and I felt a chill run down my spine.
“Nice to meet you ma'am. . . .”
“Ma'am? I'm not that old, sweetie,” she said with a weak chuckle.
I could do nothing but stare into space.
“My name is Saundra Patterson,” I lied, trying to sound calm.
I gave her Saundra's address and phone number.
“OK dear. I'll be in touch.”
“Thank you and . . . I'm sorry . . .” I trailed.
“We all are, dear, we all are. Take care.” She sighed.
“Bye-bye,” I whispered and hung up.
This was so unreal. I felt like a grief-stricken damsel in a made-for-TV movie. My thoughts went around in circles.
Why would Randy's heart just give out? It's all my fault. Maybe if I would have let him go a little easier he wouldn't be . . . I can't say it. He should have just found someone else. They usually do. Oh, gosh, I gotta call Saundra first thing in the morning and tell her before that lady calls her.
I figured that Randy had told everyone that I dumped him. I just
couldn't
tell that lady my real name because I didn't want any angry family members to kick my ass.
His big-ass sister, Velma, was 300 pounds of black woman that I didn't want to deal with.
The next morning it was hard to get out of bed. I decided to take the next couple of days off to clear my head and deal with this. It didn't matter anyway because my boss was somewhere tanning in St. Croix with his mistress. I know because we took the same “business trip” a couple of years ago. Yes, he would scream at me since our department was so short-staffed, but I'd deal with that when it happened.
Saundra's phone rang repeatedly and I was just about to give up when someone picked up.
“Peace,” a male voice answered groggily.
“Hey, Yero. Is Saundra there?”
“Hold on,” he said with a tinge of annoyance. I heard Saundra clearing her throat.
“Hello?” she asked with a crack in her voice.
“It's me, girl. I have something to tell you,” I said.
“What's the matter?”
“You're not going to believe this but . . .”
“Yeah . . .”
“Randy had a heart attack,” I said, feeling weak again.
“That's not funny, Asha,” she said, sounding angry.
“I'm not joking, Saundra. Randy is dead.”
“You serious?”
“I can't believe it either. His cousin told me . . . and it's all my fault,” I said with tears welling up in my eyes.
Saundra was silent and I felt ten times worse that she didn't dispute my last remark. As the water continued to flow down my cheeks, I could sense that Saundra's silence showed her immense sadness and disgust for me.
“Asha, this is terrible, but I knew one day something like this was going to happen. You use people until you're satisfied and then dump them like trash. It was just a matter of time before disaster struck.”
“I didn't mean to hurt anyone,” I said, wiping my nose with a tissue.
“So closing the door in someone's face after they tell you they love you is not painful. I see,” she scoffed.
I shut my eyes tight and frowned from the pain of hearing my crime.
Saundra sucked her teeth and sighed heavily. “All I have to say is that if you don't change your ways
now
, I don't want to deal with you anymore because that shows you have no heart at all. Randy's death is definitely a message for you to reevaluate yourself and clean the worms out of the pot that is your shallow little mind.”
Normally I wouldn't have taken that kind of abuse but I felt it was necessary; I deserved every bit of her tongue-lashing. My chest was heaving and I could hardly breathe because of the mucus in my throat.
“I know,” I said softly.
“Now that we're on the subject, I think you need to come to terms with why you began acting like this in the first place. After your pregnancy and Dante's reaction, you became a monster. I understand that it was painful but you don't have to make others suffer because you have issues. You were such a fun and happy person before all that happened. Sometimes I see a glimpse of who you were, but it's not too long before that selfish, ego-tripping thing reemerges.”
When she mentioned Dante's name all I could do was remember the pain I felt on the abortion table and I started to cry again.
“Asha, I'm sorry for being so harsh but it's true, you let a bad experience at sixteen dictate the last eight years of your life. I think you've given Dante way too much of your energy. All the guys you used and hurt were symbols of him and now it's time to free yourself,” she said in a more soothing tone.
As the pictures of all the men I'd taken advantage of over the years flashed in front of me, all I could do was shake my head in disbelief and remorse. I hated Saundra at that moment because, just like most people, I don't like to sniff my own shit.
“Saundra, I really don't know what to say.”
“Say that you acknowledge what I'm saying to you and
change,
” she stressed.
“I don't know if I can change; I am who I am. Life made me what I am.”
“You
can
change, and don't give me any excuses because there are none. Just do what you gotta do,” she said.
“I'll try my best.”
“You don't have to make me any promises, Asha, because you're only hurting yourself,” Saundra said softly.
I nodded as if she could see me, and rubbed my irritated eyes.
“Where did he die, anyway?” she asked.
“He was found on the toilet. His cousin said there were liquor bottles everywhere.”
“Mmm. What a lonely way to die. Drunk and having chest pains in the john,” she mumbled.
I quickly decided to hurry the conversation along because I knew if she continued to speak about how lonely he was, I'd cry again.
“I gave his cousin Dorothy your phone number so she can let you know when the funeral is. I hope you don't mind.”
“It doesn't matter now, anyway, but why'd you give her my number?”
“Because I don't want to get an ass-kicking from his sister and I know he told them what I did to him.”
“True; I'm sure from what you told me about his sister, she'd do it well.” She chuckled.
I didn't think that was funny at all. “I have to go shopping for a black dress. I have one already but it's a bit inappropriate for the occasion.”
“Hold up. I
know
you're not planning on going to the funeral? Didn't you just say you
don't
want an ass-whipping?” she asked with disbelief.
“Of course I wouldn't go as
myself
; I'd wear a disguise.”
“You are such a drama queen!”
With every passing second, purchasing a red wig and Mr. Magoo glasses seemed more and more ridiculous. “Maybe you're right; I'll just remember Randy as he was.”
“Yes, please do,” she said sarcastically.
“Let me know when Dorothy calls.”
Â
Dorothy called Saundra on Friday to let her know that the funeral was going to be held on Saturday at eleven o'clock at the Walter B. Cook funeral home on 72nd Street. My weekend was horrible because I kept having nightmares about Randy coming towards me, gasping and holding his chest. The only way to make these nightmares stop was to face the coffin and say good-bye.
I put on the only black dress I owned and wore a blazer over it to cover the plunging neckline.
As my cab pulled up near the funeral home, I peered cautiously out of the window. Seventy-second Street was lined up with shiny black Town Cars and I didn't want anyone to see me. When I got out of the car I noticed a fat white guy getting out of a red car in front of me blowing his nose into a handkerchief. I realized he was one of Randy's coworkers whom I saw him with the night we met at B Smith's.
Bowing my head, I tied a black scarf around my face and put on my sunglasses. Walking down the long tree-lined block, I spotted the hearse. It sat there cold and unmoving and looked like eternity itself. It troubled me to look directly at it and I strained to look at everything around it, but I couldn't. It was massive, with all of its silver swirling metal and wine-colored drapes. I began to tremble and my sunglasses began to fog up from the heat I was generating. An old frail black man stood at the door of the funeral home, wearing a tuxedo, white gloves and a stoic look on his face.
This scene of misery contradicted the happy twinkling lights and merry images of Santa that were on display on every building nearby.
My feet seemed to be cemented to the pavement and my immobility was frustrating me by the second.
Two men with the same look as the old man appeared and went over to the hearse.
Oh, my God!
I thought to myself,
they're going to take him out
. My heart began to race and every muscle inside my body went into shock with the sudden rush of adrenaline.
As the head of the mahogany casket appeared, tears showered my face and I was forced to remove my eyewear.
I heard Ms. Thompson scream, “NO! NOT MY BABY, OH, GOD, NOOO!” as she stepped out of a limousine, and it was more than I could stand.
Without thinking I took off down the block and hailed a cab.