The long awaited call from his conscious had finally come and as I'd expected my brother had fucked up this time. The smell of old beer and vomit was pungent in the room when I'd opened the door to see if he was even still breathing; I saw the empty beer cans laying in their brown paper bags also there were cigarettes that had burned to their filters laying on the wood floor. The dust mites shimmied without destination in the sunlight that beamed through the hole in the sheet on the window. "Get the fuck out!" He mumbled, head covered with the sofa pillow.
"The food ready Vondre, u cant just lay in here all day, get up!"
I hadn't known it had been all over the news, but no one had come, and even if they had I would have still protected my baby brother.
When he'd found me after we'd been lost in the system I thought life could never be more generous, all those years had gone by and I would dream about the day we were separated; I was 15, he was 9.
3 years I lived in foster care, 4 replacement homes---when I'd turned 18 my search for him was in vain. I hadn't even known where to begin to look and had called it quits after I'd spent all my savings. Almost 4 years later after Darius and I had married he'd shown up at my front door! God had answered my prayers, my brother had found me---
Darius soon came to believe the bond we shared was uncommon but blood is thicker than water, right? I think I made the right decision when it was all said and done. Vondre promised he would hustle to get me and the children out of the projects after the divorce, "It takes time Sis, just chill out..." he'd said after a year had passed. The living conditions in the projects were not suitable for the three children Darius had apparently proven so he'd won all the way around.
Unable to find work I had to rely on Section 8---Vondre would help soon.
I remembered the black lipstick, as if her words accented it's tone the color became darker, "Mama want u to promise u will take care of your brother if anything happens to me! Promise me!"
I promised I would but her words had seemed more sincere as I watched the gap between her teeth while she spake, she would often say it but that day it sounded different.
When the police breaks squealed in front of 414 W Maple at 2:55 a.m. that Wednesday morning I'd known she was gone and had felt it im my 15 year old soul. Even though it was a school night I could not rest. Grandma's feet rhymically slid to the front door in the raggedy slippers, I sat motionless on the couch with the tears streaking my face.
February 23rd.
"We have her in custody Mrs. Nelams, we will get to the bottom of it, I am so sorry for your loss---I really am."
The accompanying officer stood with his service cap against his chest, "My condolences."
I remember how she pretended to be strong---for us. Her cries to God filled the hallway after she'd gone into her room, she'd told him he knew best but I wondered who she was trying to convince while she asked HIm WHYYYYY?
"I told Gayle to leave that woman's husband alone! Now look at her! She gone now!"
She never recuperated from the hurt.
Soon we became a burden and Uncle Regis had come to take Grandma on to Tacoma. I don't know how long she'd been dead when I found out. As she had done us, I promised to never abandon my blood and would never turn my back on my brother, we were all we had.
"Vondre get up!"
He sat up on the mattress, socks twisted around his ankles, "Go away!"
"I cooked for u! U been in here 3 days, Vondre---u can't just---"
Fights between he and Sheretta never turned out good so I assumed they'd broken up again. Their relationship had been rocky for a while and more off than on, but they both were stubborn and what was understood hadn't needed explaining. Everybody knew Vondre' and Sheretta. I'd even seen the broken chain with the S pendant laying above the mattress as it glared from between against wall; he'd stood and the sun casted its reflection against the metal. Stumbling toward the door he yelled for me to go away.
I laughed---sick puppy I thought, but wondered when he'd bought it for her and why I'd never seen it; looked expensive and no wonder I lived like I did, poor, I concluded seeing the gold chain.
"U gotta come OUT OF THIS ROOM DRE'!" I yelled before he slammed the door shaking the foundation. "She ain't coming back! GET THE FUCK OUT! JUST LET ME--- GET THE FUCK OUT!"
I laughed and thought to myself Sheretta must have really put it on him.
Walking back toward the kitchen, I became irritated with the noise from upstairs, it was extremely annoying at times. I'd picked up the broom and beat on the ceiling, the muthafuckas upstairs beat back on the floor in retaliation.
He'd promised to get us out of there---and truth be told I missed the life my husband had given me but he and Vondre' never really seen eye to eye especially after the missing money incident. Soon he felt betrayed because I wouldn't abandon the relationship with my flesh and blood and decided to vent to Yonna. Who knew he would impregnate her while doing so. Had I known then what I know now.
The syrup bottle remained upside down on the table, I measured it's contents and decided to eat the waffles dry before turning on the television and moving the antenna on the converter box, if I was lucky I'd be able to catch the 9:00 news. I'd been told I resembled Jessica Oliver on the 9:00 news, her full lips and dark skin actually made her resemble Gayle, but as much as I tried to picture Mama's face I would only see the black lipstick smeared across it obliterating her beauty and better judgement.
"He gone leave her baby---and, and I--I'll make sure he pay your way to college! Don't u wanna be a Vet? Well---Oh, Ima get u a dog to practice on. Now u be a big girl and watch over your brother! Mama gotta go so I can get the money for college baby!"
The smell of Schlitz Malt Liquor remained long after she'd gone.
Jessica was broadcasting live, I would often imagine trading places with her. I would take the fine fabric and give her the clothes I wore from the donation box but only for a day because I loved her and wouldn't want her to endure the hurt of being without the nicer things.
I pictured her being an African Queen and wondered if she ever considered "home".
When the picture of the missing mother came on I hadn't heard the broadcast, I imagined Jessica's picket fence and wondered how close in age we were. Mama always had dreams of having one and to me it was a fantasy. She would talk about having the fence but speak on knowing my Daddy, he would be there each time she created the scenario. Her promises, I remembered them all and who the fuck had she been trying to convince!?
A balding black man appeared during the coverage, he pleaded for his wife and child's return. She'd gone to the grocery store 4 days before and hadn't returned. Also there had been money electronically transferred from her account the day after.
There were no leads.
"Another one," I mouthed before biting down on the hard waffle and pressing the back of my hand against the cold eggs. There had been 3 in the past month gone missing.
Jessica reappeared on the screen wearing the loose V neck blouse holding the channel 7 microphone.
"Again, if anyone has seen Sandra Warner please contact crime stoppers at 555----"
There was a $25,000 reward.
Maybe she was sick of his shit, and left for good I thought before recollecting the pleading husband's image that had just disappeared from the screen, he looked trifling---who had he impregnated? Weren't they all the same?
"---last seen wearing a gold watch with the inscription 'for my wife' and a gold chain with an initial S pendant. Once again she was last seen on Howell Ave---"
When her picture flashed across the screen again I then recognized the necklace.
About 7 o'clock that night Vondre' finally emerged, my nerves were shot and I'd bit my nails to the quick.
"Goin' to the store, u straight."
Hair shadowed his face, he didn't look like the handsome child Mama had brought into the world. I yet sat on the couch in front of the television but couldn't identify my fluctuating emotions. I was the protector, wasn't I? How could I deserve a family if I couldn't protect them and besides there had to be a mistake, my brother was NOT A KILLER!
"I'm good Dre."
After he'd left out the door I'd gone into the room at the end of the hallway and pulled the mattress from against the wall where I'd seen the morning sun shining against the pendant; there it laid broken, underneath the mattress on the floor was the watch.
Shock consumed me and even though I knew the store was only across the street I stood froze from disbelief when he'd come into the room.
"DId u kill her?" I asked still negotiating with every possible explanation that surfaced.
He laughed before popping the top on the beer can, "If I did u gone turn me in? She ain't coming back Vonda---if I did it or not."
He hadn't even asked who!
Anger consumed me, how had he turned so heartless?
The day we were separated I remembered the tears that dripped from his chin as the social worker came into the blue room, I held onto him, they pulled him from my grip.
He'd endured the suffering because they hadn't understood; but I did. They hadn't known what it was like. Now 23 years old he was a product of the streets---they'd raised him, suddenly I understood even more.
"Whatever u have done, we can fix it!"
"HOW THE FUCK DO U FIX A DEAD BITCH VONDA!"
His words cut like a knife before he threw the full beer can against the wall.
Had he confessed?
Sometimes love will make u overlook the signs as I had all along.
When he'd lifted the mattress and thrown the wad of cash at me I didn't know how to respond.
"Spend it, get rid of it, I don't give a fuck," he said.
That was only the first one I knew about, but I'd compared and analyzed his behavior prior to that cold evening. There was something about him that didn't coincide with the demeanor of a street nigga---he had a conscious.
I decided to not ask about the child.
After he'd showered and changed he walked past me as I held the $6,000 dollars wondering if I'd ever even saw that much money before, he'd said "I know I can trust u right? U wouldn't sell me out like Mama would u?"
I guess my answer gave him permission to kill again and again but no matter what, blood was thicker than water, wasn't it?