Chapter 17
August 20
There was sand in her eyes, and they were possibly sewn shut. That’s how Vanna felt when she tried to wake up to her blaring alarm on Tuesday morning. If she thought the struggle to open her eyes was real, rolling over and extending her arm to fumble around the nightstand until she finally found her phone was a herculean effort.
She was able to snap the phone free of the charger without seeing it, but to shut off the alarm that now had her ears ringing, she had to apply all her strength to opening first one eyelid, then, very reluctantly, the other. She punched in her password and swiped to kill the alarm, then dropped the phone on her chest and let her eyes close again.
How badly did she need a sick day? In the worst possible way. But if she took today off, she’d have to go in the Tuesday after Labor Day. With her birthday falling on a Saturday this year, that gave her a long weekend to celebrate. Taking that Tuesday after the holiday off was going to be icing on the cake—a mini vacation, of sorts—which she absolutely deserved. Staying right here in this bed for the rest of the day also held massive appeal.
Yesterday had been as trying a day as so many others she’d experienced this month, and there were still two more weeks to get through. How had her birthday month—the time she’d planned for all year long, the thirty days that would signify her launch into a new phase of her life—ended up being two of the worst weeks she’d ever experienced? A part of her was afraid for the remaining days in this month, scared that whatever bad mojo was circling over her head had only just begun to make her life a living hell. Her breath hitched as a sob struggled to break free. But she clamped down on that emotion, pressed her eyes closed even tighter—causing even more pain, by the way—and forced back those feelings of pity and despair. She couldn’t afford them. Couldn’t sit here and feel sorry for herself or wonder Why me? any longer. It wasn’t going to get her anywhere, and it would make her feel like a failure.
Pushing herself up to a sitting position and grappling to catch the forgotten phone as it started to slide from her chest, she took a deep breath. Then another and another, until she felt like she could at least get out of bed and make it to the shower. She needed the water as hot as her skin could take it, and used her eucalyptus and spearmint body wash to create a soothing lather all over.
Twenty minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom and went straight to her dresser to reach into her card box. Whether out of habit or some other reason she was too tired to contemplate, she hadn’t tossed it out the window, despite her thoughts of doing so last night. Once a week, she would remove all the cards and shuffle them, hoping that with each random selection, she would come up with exactly what she needed to hear on that given day. Today she needed a damn miracle of words.
“‘You are allowed to walk away from anything that gives you bad vibes,’” she read from the card she now held.
Moments ticked by as she stood there staring down at those words until she finally asked herself, “How do I walk away from criminal charges?” Or from a man who, in just a couple of weeks, had awakened feelings she hadn’t experienced in far too long?
In the shower, lathered in the body wash that was supposed to relieve her stress, she’d sobbed like a baby. Like she had for most of last night, and she hated it. Now she stuffed that card back into the box and opened the top drawer to grab her underwear.
By the time she’d put on a pastel ombre maxi dress and natural-colored wedges, she’d felt a little more like herself. Most of her get-ready time had been dedicated to her makeup since she’d had to cover the bags and attempt to minimize the puffiness in her eyes. Just another reason she hated to cry. It wasn’t until she’d gotten downstairs and heard Granny arguing with Frito about being afraid of a little rain that it occurred to her to check the weather. Normally, as soon as she woke up, she would turn the TV in her room on to the local news channel so she could hear the day’s weather. This morning she’d basked—or rather, suffered—in silence.
She avoided the kitchen, and instead walked straight down the stairs and into the coat closet. Finding her denim jacket, she slipped her arms into it and glanced down at the basket, which held extra umbrellas. She didn’t need to grab one since there was a travel one in her purse and a bigger one in her car that worked much better on those windy and rainy days. That reminded her, she needed to call the body shop today to get a better ETA on her vehicle. The sooner she got rid of this rental, the sooner it could stop reminding her of the SUV that had apparently run down Elliot Joble.
And who the hell was Elliot Joble, anyway? She’d never met the man, yet his death was now on her conscience too.
“I’ll see you later, Granny!” she yelled.
“Oh. Okay! Be safe!” her grandmother yelled back.
It was a little after nine when Vanna finally walked into the office. During her commute, she’d called Neshawn to say she was running a little late. As with more than a few days this month, this time of morning was actually very late for her since she usually arrived in the office before eight each morning and before anyone else. But today, they were just lucky she’d decided to come in at all.
“The senior wants to see you ASAP,” Neshawn said as soon as she approached her desk.
Vanna groaned. “Do you know what it’s about?”
Neshawn shook her head. “Nope. Just that he’s been out here twice since he came in twenty minutes ago, asking if you were in yet. I told him you were running late, and he said for you to come directly to his office when you arrived.”
She rolled her eyes. “Then I haven’t arrived yet. I’m gonna go to my office first; then I’ll go see him.”
Her stomach growled as she walked to her office. Skipping breakfast was never a good idea—for her, anyway. But she hadn’t wanted to open her refrigerator and see the containers that held the makings for the daily smoothie she’d started having. And she certainly didn’t want to stand in that kitchen and listen to Granny ask what she was having for lunch, what she wanted her to cook for dinner, and what the hell had happened between her and Aden last night. She had no doubt her grandmother knew he’d come over and also that he hadn’t stayed.
Pushing all that out of her mind, she dropped her purse into her desk drawer but grabbed her phone and slipped it into the pocket of her dress—she loved a maxi dress with pockets. After mumbling a quick prayer for strength and peace, she left her office and made her way down the hall that would lead to HC Sr.’s corner office.
She knocked on the partially open door, then pushed it the rest of the way. “Good morning, you wanted to see me?”
HC Sr., with his wiry silver beard and beady brown eyes, looked up from his desk. He lifted a hand to wave her in. “Shut the door.”
So, no Good morning —that was odd. HC Sr. was a lot of things, but he wasn’t normally rude. In fact, he was quite the gentleman around the office, something that obviously hadn’t rubbed off on his son.
Doing as he said, she made her way farther into the office and took a seat in the guest chair across from his desk.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. “Do we need to talk about the settlement conference coming up later this week?”
“No, no. Junior has that all under control. And you already know to have all the paperwork ready for when we send you the numbers,” he said, sitting back in his chair.
“I do,” she replied with a nod. She wanted to ask again what this was about but decided to just wait.
“Two detectives came to see me yesterday,” he said without further preamble.
Damn. All that work she’d done this morning to get her mind in a decent enough place to come to work and function with at least 75 percent clarity today had just flown right out the window.
“They had a lot of questions about your job duties and how I perceived your performance. Or if I ever suspected you of stealing.” He folded his hands in his lap, his thin lips moving at what seemed like a slightly slower pace than his words were actually being spoken.
She knew that wasn’t possible, or perhaps it was just because her mind had started operating at less efficacy because she was damn tired of expending so much of its energy on things that just shouldn’t involve her.
“What did you tell them?” she asked, praying her voice sounded confident and unbothered. She couldn’t tell over the loud beating of her heart.
“I told them the truth,” he said. “That you’ve been a good employee for the last eight years. That you handle our money with efficiency and integrity as if it were your own, and that I’ve never, not for one second, suspected you of doing anything dishonorable where our accounts are concerned.”
Well, that was a relief—not that she thought his answer should’ve been any different. It’s just that with all that was going on, she couldn’t predict a damn thing right now. And she didn’t really know who she could trust.
“Thank you,” she said, because it felt like the right response.
“Don’t thank me,” he said, then raised a brow that was as bushy and silver as his beard. “Tell me what the hell is going on.”
She didn’t want to tell him. Hadn’t wanted any of this to get back to her place of employment, but here they were.
“It’s a horrible misunderstanding,” she began, then gave him a very condensed version of Caleb’s death and everything concerning the charges against her.
He surprised her for the second time today by letting loose a low whistle and using a finger to stroke one of those weird-looking brows of his. “That’s a lot,” he said.
“It sure is,” she agreed. “But listen, it will not affect my work. I come in here and it’s actually a relief to put my mind on other things.”
“Do you have an attorney?” HC Sr. asked. “You know I can make some calls.”
“I do,” she said. “But thanks. I’m sure this will all be going away soon.” She prayed it would. Prayed with every ounce of faith she possessed.
“Well, if I can be of any assistance, you just let me know,” he said. “I’m not going to say anything to Junior about this. Doesn’t matter right now, since we know you’ll prevail.” He cleared his throat. “But I have to put you on notice that if this doesn’t go away soon, if there has to be a trial and any type of media coverage, I’ll have to rethink things.”
What he actually meant to say was that he’d have to fire her. With all the dignity she could muster, when she really felt like giving in to the despair that had begun to spread throughout her chest like a bad rash, she squared her shoulders and held his gaze. “I understand,” she lied. “And I’ll get back to work now.”
Pride wouldn’t let her jump up and run the hell out of that office, so her steps remained measured, her motions average speed as she acquiesced to his final request and closed his door behind her. She also ignored Neshawn’s questioning gaze as she made her way back to her office. And she stayed there until the end of the day, doing the firm’s work to keep her mind occupied and resisting the urge to text or call Granny or any of her friends. They couldn’t help her right now, couldn’t make this worry and irritation go away. She had to manage that herself, as she did so many other times in the past.
What was that saying, When it rains ... ? Well, big fat raindrops were coming down at a vicious pace as she pulled into her driveway at a little after six that evening. Granny’s car wasn’t there, and she pushed back the questions of where she might be in this storm when she recalled Granny’s text at five, saying she was going to the market to get some spices for the chicken-and-rice soup she planned to make for them tonight.
Grabbing her stuff from the passenger seat, she leaned down to the floor and scooped up the umbrella. Then she got out and made a dash for the front porch. There, she skidded to a halt, eyes wide, mouth falling open at the person she saw standing there.
She wasn’t actually standing but leaning against one of the thick wooden makeshift columns that Jack and his crew had installed to keep the roof of the porch upright while they worked on the wall. Her clothes—jean capris and a dark-green T-shirt that hung off her body like a rag—and black leather flip-flops were soaked. Her hair—or what was left of it, was cut close like a man’s—what used to be her caramel-hued face was now darker and drawn, another sign that she wasn’t eating well.
“Mama,” Vanna whispered, the word a rasp in the back of her throat.
“Hey, Vannie,” Diane said, lifting her bony arm to give a slow wave.
Only two people called her Vannie: her grandmother and her mother.
“I told Mama I was coming by today, but she wasn’t here when I got here.” Diane wrapped her arms tightly around herself. She was obviously chilly, yet Vanna made no attempt to let her inside her house.
“She didn’t tell me you would be stopping by,” Vanna said.
“I was supposed to come earlier. While you were at work.”
Oh. So she wasn’t supposed to know that her mother was coming to her house. Because why would the woman who’d given birth to her come to her house just to visit, say hello, check on her only child? She bit back those words.
“She texted me a little while ago and said she needed to go to the market.” Granny had probably waited all day for Diane. Vanna had wondered why she was going to the market to get started on dinner so late in the day. It wasn’t like she’d told Granny she had to cook every night or clean the house, for that matter. Her grandmother could stay with her for as long as she liked without doing anything except taking care of her spoiled dog, as far as Vanna was concerned. But Granny would always do whatever she could to help take care of Vanna. Unlike Diane.
“Okay, well, I’ll just wait right here until she gets back,” Diane said.
“It’s raining and you’re cold,” Vanna replied. With a huff she went to her door and unlocked it. “Come inside and wait.”
Try as she might, she could never be as cold and distant with Diane as the woman had always been with her.
“No. I’ll stay out here,” Diane insisted. “I don’t want to drip water all on your floors. I know it’s probably nice in there.”
That’s right, her mother had never been to her house before. Not in all the years Vanna had lived here. She hadn’t been at Vanna’s college graduation, her wedding, the reception in Granny’s backyard after, or at the hospital when Vanna had her gall bladder removed seven years ago.
“It doesn’t make sense for you to stand out here in the rain any longer than you need to,” Vanna told her, and pushed the door open. “Just come inside. You can stand right here by the door and wait for Granny if that’s what you want to do.”
She didn’t wait for Diane to decide, was going to go in the house and put her stuff down regardless. Her patience with this woman was thinner than thread, but she had been raised to be respectful.
Vanna had just dropped her closed umbrella onto a rug near the coat closet that Granny had probably put out because of the rain. There was always one just inside the doorway for feet to be wiped on, so she did that and continued moving toward the steps.
“It is nice in here,” Diane said from behind her.
She’d come inside and now stood right on that rug by the door, as if she didn’t dare move.
“Oh, let me close the door.” Diane turned and placed her thin fingers on the knob, pushing the door closed behind her. “Yeah,” she said as she turned back to Vanna and looked around the foyer space where she stood. “It’s real nice.” She leaned over slightly and peeped down the stairs toward the basement, then brought her gaze back to Vanna.
“Are you going to just stand there?” Vanna asked.
Diane nodded.
“Why?” That was a loaded question where Diane was concerned. There were so many why s that had gone unanswered that despite her big ole age of thirty-nine, Vanna still wanted to ask.
“Told you, I don’t wanna mess up your place,” Diane replied with a slow shrug.
All her movements were slow, her eyes wide and bloodshot. As usual. For as long as Vanna had memory of this woman, she’d been drunk. In the morning when Vanna was in preschool, she’d awaken in the tiny apartment they lived in to Diane’s slurred words and the scent of what Vanna would later learn was alcohol clinging to her skin. She’d also learned that Diane’s preferred drink was Jack and Coke. Probably why Vanna stuck with light liquor.
“How would you mess up my place, Mama? All you have to do is walk up these stairs. I can get you some towels, maybe try to find you something dry to put on, and you can sit in the living room and wait for Granny.” Vanna sighed. “I won’t even talk to you.” Because it seemed to pain her mother so much. Anytime Vanna was near her or tried to have even a basic conversation with her, Diane always acted like it would literally kill her to participate.
“I’m just gonna stay here, Vannie. That’s all.”
“Fine,” Vanna snapped, and turned to leave her there. But then she stopped, one foot on the first step, the other still on the floor. She turned back to face Diane. “No, it’s not fine. The way you treat me like I’m the worst mistake of your life is not fine. It wasn’t when I was a child, and unfortunately it’s still not now.”
Diane looked away, focusing her gaze on the mirror positioned on the wall above that table where Vanna normally put her purse. Today, for whatever reason, Vanna’s purse was still on her shoulder.
“I don’t push you,” Vanna continued. “I never pushed you. I just accepted that this was who you were, how you wanted to treat me. And I still accept that.” She breathed out slowly. “I know I can’t change you, but I am going to get this off my chest. You might have come here today for one reason, but I’m going to take advantage of the fact that I’m even seeing you to tell you how much you’ve hurt me.”
There was the smallest shake of Diane’s head, but she still didn’t turn back to look at Vanna.
“You abandoned me. Just walked away and never looked back. I don’t know why or how you could even do such a thing to your child, but I guess it’s not for me to understand. But I want you to know that everything you did, and even more so what you didn’t do for me, has scarred me, probably for life. I won’t blame all of my mistakes on you, but there’s a part of me that still carries that trauma that you inflicted. So if I never get the opportunity to speak to you again, Mama, I just want to say, thank you.”
For what felt like the billionth time since last night, tears stung Vanna’s eyes. “Thank you for the resilience and the strength being the child that you didn’t want has provided me.”
She stopped speaking then and waited.
But Diane had nothing. Not even another glance Vanna’s way.
So Vanna left her there. For her own self-preservation, she didn’t say another word, didn’t allow herself to expect anything more from the woman who’d only ever given her life.
It was an hour and a half later when a soft knock sounded on Vanna’s bedroom door. She knew who it was.
“Come in,” she said.
The door opened and Granny stepped inside. “Dinner’s ready,” she said.
“Thanks,” Vanna replied from the spot where she lay across her bed. She’d been watching one of her I Love Lucy DVDs, desperately searching for more nostalgia to cocoon her than the harsh realities she’d been forced to live with. “I’ll come down and get it in a little bit.”
Granny wasn’t so easily dismissed. She came farther into the room and sat on the edge of the bed by Vanna’s feet.
“She’s sick, Vannie.” Those words settled in the air. “End-stage liver disease.”
Vanna continued to stare at the TV.
“After I picked you up from the bus station that day, I found her ass and told her not to come back until she was sober and ready to be a mother. Told her she better find everything she needed in that bottle ’cause I had absolutely nothing for her if she couldn’t do right by you,” Granny continued. “She stayed away for a long time. I actually thought I’d never see her again. Then one day, when you were at school, I got a call from the hospital, so I went. She was there. Somebody had found her passed out on the street and brought her in. They did a bunch of tests, and she was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver. They talked about treatments, told her she definitely needed to stop drinking and smoking to be able to live with the disease, ’cause it wasn’t going away. But she didn’t do a damn thing.”
Granny sighed heavily, and Vanna wanted to reach out and hug her. To tell her that she didn’t need to say any more, but as always, she knew it was best just to let her get it all out when it came to Diane.
“I didn’t give her money for anything for years, figured she was finding her own way, even if it was to another bottle. I’d done my job in raising her, I couldn’t do anything for the adult who didn’t wanna help herself,” Granny said.
Vanna felt her grandmother’s hand on her leg as she started to rub like Vanna was the one who needed soothing.
“Last year she came by the senior home. I don’t even know how she knew that’s where I was living. I hadn’t seen her in a long while. But she walked into the rec room, moving all slow, her eyes filled with tears. She told me then she was gonna die, and we sat in that rec room not saying another word to each other for, oh, I guess another hour. Then she got up to leave, and I got up, put twenty dollars in her hand.”
Tears spilled from Vanna’s eyes.
“She’s still my baby, Vannie. I know she hurt you. I know that she could never find it in herself to be a mother. It took me a while to accept that I couldn’t do a damn thing about that. But she’s still my baby, and now—” She sighed wearily. “Now I just want her to be at peace. However that looks for her for the time she has left on this earth, I want her to be at peace.” Granny choked back a sob, and Vanna moved until she was able to sit on the side of the bed and fold her grandmother into her arms.
They sat that way for Vanna didn’t know how long. Crying and rocking and crying some more.