“This is the last time, Sarah,” Tyisha Cooley said.
If I had a dollar for every time someone had said that to me, I’d be a millionaire with zero reasons to be standing in this Cleveland Heights living room, hand out, hoping for a bed to sleep in and a pot to piss in.
“I know.” I nodded in mute appeasement. She was right. I did need a plan. The guy I’d been staying with had found a younger girl. One who was willing to pay his rent and sleep with him.
Yesterday, she’d rolled up in a pickup with her stuff. That’s when I’d known she was real and he wasn’t just holding some fake relationship over my head to get me to cook or clean or do something I didn’t want to do in bed.
I hadn’t even fought it—this time. Just put my stuff in my pack, called Tyisha, and had begged for a place to stay. She hadn’t sounded happy, but she’d said yes, which was all I needed.
“No, I’m serious. This is the absolutely last time you can come to my house high. You need to get into rehab. For real. I’m not joking this time.”
“I’ll go. I promise.” I tried to move, to skirt past her. Put my stuff in her guest room and wait for her to go to sleep so I could get out and score.
I’d get back.
We’d both get a good night’s sleep and she’d probably be over her impulse by morning. Then…then, I’d be fine. I could chill here for a few days until I figured out my next move.
“Good.” Tyisha looked a little too triumphant for my tastes. “I found a bed for you,” she announced.
“Wait? What?” Panic flooded my veins. She’d never gone through with this threat. Not really. Not even after the Pat Bailey debacle. “I’m not—”
“You’re not what? Ready?” she challenged. The tiger eye ring Bailey had bought caught the light. Inwardly, I sighed because I knew I’d fucked up her life one time too many. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was finally time.
“Don’t I get time to get my affairs in order?”
“What affairs? You can leave your car here. I’ll even put it in the garage for you. If you had somewhere to stay, I could take care of that too. But if you’re indeed here with that huge backpack, then I’d guess that you’re not carrying a lease.”
“That eviction was unfair,” I improvised. It wasn’t a lie exactly. Just wasn’t the reason I was here today. Hadn’t happened to me.
Undeterred, I continued with my lie, “I was subletting. How was I supposed to know that my friend was dealing? No one told me. Landlord said he wasn’t interested in the government coming to forfeit his property. Said that place was his retirement plan or some such. I told him I wasn’t dealing, and could stay. But he threw me out…like the baby and the bathwater.”
“Probably a safe bet. It’s hard to prove a negative. Lots of people get caught up in that forfeiture net, especially people of color. Daddy knows some people who’ve done some advocacy work around that for profit policing.”
“Of course he does.”
“What’s up with the attitude, Sarah? Momma and Daddy have done nothing but be nice to you, help you where they can.”
“Your dad sounds like he’s the face of the Innocence Project or the Southern Poverty Law Center or even the ACLU. Lots of limousine liberals who say all the right words, but have no idea what it’s like down in the trenches.”
Despite all the ungratefulness in my tone, I liked Mr. Cooley. I loved both her parents. Sometimes, though, I wanted some real world stuff to happen to them. I almost said that out loud, but held myself back. A lot of his reading and volunteer work had come on the heels of his son and Tyisha’s brother’s death. That was a topic best left alone. They didn’t exactly blame me for his murder, not explicitly anyway.
“Advocacy has to start somewhere.” Tyisha’s voice was cool. “But that’s not the issue here. Daddy’s not the addict Sarah. You are. You’re the one who needs help. You have to promise me that this time you’ll get it.”
“Fine. Tomorrow. Whatever.” This time when I made a move toward the bedrooms, she didn’t exactly stop me, but didn’t quite step aside either. My mind clicked slowly. “Um, there’s no one back there right? No surprises?”
Whatever held Tyisha’s face together fell. Every one of her fifty-two years showed. Her sigh of resignation was heavy.
“You know I’m too old for that.”
“But you’re not. Not really.” My attempt at upbeat fell flat. I pushed on anyway. In my own way, I wanted the best for her. “Your parents have the best marriage. Haven’t you ever desired something like that for yourself?”
“Pat Bailey was that chance, and…”
And that I’d ruined it went unspoken, but not unsaid.
“You deserve someone who loves you. Everyone does.”
“I ran into Pat a couple of weeks ago. Did I tell you?”
Tyisha knew very well that she hadn’t mentioned it to me, otherwise I wouldn’t have said a thing. I shook my head, though the reason for the ring was clearer.
“I was at the Shaker Heights library picking up Eat, Pray, Love.”
“I loved that book. See…anyone can reinvent themselves. Start over.”
“I was standing in the check out,” Tyisha continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Pat came in with a kid about fifteen.”
“Wow.”
“They were picking up a guide to the PSATs. He was talking to the kid about colleges.” Tyisha fanned herself with her hand. “It wasn’t déjà vu. That’s not the word for it. It was more like watching a movie, getting a peek into the life I could have had.”
“I’m sorry. Really sorry about that. You could have married him.”
“He wouldn’t accept you as part of the package, Sarah.”
“But—”
“You’re family. Have been since I was a kid. After losing Wayne, I couldn’t lose you too. Not for some promise of a picture perfect suburban life.”
Some part of me had never moved past my teen crush on Tyisha. I pushed it down ninety-nine percent of the time. Deliberately not thinking about it. But in this moment, I wished I could comfort her. Give her what she’d been missing all those years since she’d walked out on what Pat Bailey had offered.
I gave in to a single impulse and moved forward to tuck a hank of curly hair back under the scarf she was using to keep it away from her face. We stood there for a minute or two, me with a hand on her face. Her with a hand on my shoulder. Though I was mute, I hoped she could sense all the love and remorse I was feeling.
Without a word, Tyisha finally stepped aside. I dropped my hand and went into her guest room. It wasn’t really set up for guests anymore. The daybed was still there, and that’s where I dropped my bag. There wasn’t much available floor space. That was dominated by clear plastic storage containers which looked like they had a lifetime’s worth of crafting stuff stored inside.
I wanted to tell her she was not going to be the black Martha Stewart, but I didn’t. She wouldn’t appreciate the joke, I didn’t think. Our humor hadn’t really synced up in years. Instead, I pulled my little phone from my pocket. My ex hadn’t thought to turn off my extra line. Eventually, he would. In the meantime, I’d use as many plan minutes as I could.
I put in a call to the one person who’d never abandoned me and more importantly, didn’t ask too many questions, Ja Roach. Asked him to bring something by. He was one person where I still had credit. He’d always let me pay him later. Sometimes, he forgot altogether and said I didn’t owe him at all.
When I came back to the front of the house, Tyisha was fiddling with the television remote. She muted HGTV when she realized I was back. I didn’t say a thing about the crafts or the channel and neither did she.
Neither of us could go back to being eighteen or twenty with a whole world of opportunities in front of us. Some had been snatched from me. I’d squandered others.
“Do you have a beer?” I asked. It would take a while before Ja Roach could get over here from the westside. In the meantime I was ready to mellow out. “Maybe we can start to audition for living together as little old ladies. Maybe even get a couple of cats.”
My childhood friend gave me a side eye that hadn’t changed since we were eleven. She went to the kitchen anyway and came back with two brown longneck bottles.
“No Heineken?” I wondered what had made her ditch her longtime favorite.
“It’s an IPA from a black owned microbrewery.” She held up the bottle in a mock toast. “Trying to support where I can.”
“I’m surprised you let me drink.” She’d always tried to control my consumption during my past stays with her. Especially after that unfortunate couch situation years back. Though it was hard, I held my tongue. I’d apologized too much for that and everything else. Didn’t want to jog her memory and get her so mad she kicked me out.
“One last hurrah and all that.” She held up her bottle. Took a long swig. I parroted her.
“What are you up to tonight? Got a guy I don’t know about? You didn’t actually answer the question, you know. I’ve always thought you deserved someone special.” Once I’d gotten the questions out, I knew I’d spoken too quickly, made it awkward between us. The beer wasn’t working fast enough.
“Did you invite someone over?” Her arched brows did not accompany another swig from her bottle. I very much wished she were three deep.
“Why would you think that?” If I could have pushed back farther into the chair’s cushions, I would have, but the chair springs were already pushing up against me.
“You’re not overly interested in my nearly nonexistent dating life except when me not being home serves you.”
“That’s not true—”
“Who’d you invite over?”
“Um…”
“I’ve known you for more than forty freaking years. Can we skip the hemming and hawing and lying and get to the truth of it already.”
“Just Ja Roach. A friend of mine. You may have met him before.”
“Another junkie?”
“He’s not like that,” I cut in. “He’s got a place and a job and everything.” Two things I couldn’t put to my own name.
“And a heroin habit.”
“He manages it.”
“Why is he coming over?”
“I…uh…” There wasn’t a single excuse I could muster.
“Oh, God.” Tyisha did drain her bottle then. “You were planning to shoot up here? Again? After that last time, you promised no more.”
“Well, if this is my last hurrah.” It was weak. I hoped it would work because I was fresh out of other options. “I really will get clean this time, Tyisha. I never see many people out here much older than me. I don’t want to die. Not now. Not yet. I may never find anyone like your Pat Bailey or even someone as good as Wayne, but I’m thinking that my life doesn’t have to be over. That there’s an apartment and a job and a woman who could love me like your mom and dad love each other.”
“Why were you living with a guy anyway? I thought… You’ve always said—”
“Because they’re easier. They never want to get to know me or even try. As long as I make them coffee and spread my legs, I can stay warm and dry most days.” It was a truth I’d never shared.
“Fine.” I tried not to cringe from the obvious pity in her eyes. “I really want nothing to do with this.” Tyisha pulled a phone from her pocket.
“Oh my God. Did you get one of those new iPhones? I heard they’re great.”
“It does the job. You know, if someone had told my kid self I could have all my music and a computer and phone in my pocket, I wouldn’t have believed them.”
“Too bad you can’t read a book on it. That would be killer.”
If there’s a single thing Tyisha and I had in common all these years it was books. They were my solace. Got me through nights in my car. Sleeping on cold pavement. Rolling over after letting a guy treat me like a dumpster for his lust. Sometimes, I think books were the same for her. After Pat Bailey, she’d turned from serious five hundred page tomes displayed in the windows of Appletree Books, and nonfiction lent by her father to paperback romance. Stories where women found love despite any odds against them.
“Kind of a small screen for it. But I agree that carrying all my books like I carry my music would be cool.” Tyisha flicked her thumb, then turned the phone in my direction a calendar on display. “We’re scheduled for one in the afternoon. This place came well recommended.” I wanted to ask who in hell did she know who needed a bed, but kept that to myself.
“Where are we…am I going?” I was already thinking of how many days I’d have to suck up to drug counselors before I could check myself out, where’d I’d camp once I left. Then remembered my promise to her and myself. Maybe I could stick it out this time and come out the other end a better person.
Tyisha pointed the phone at me one more time.
“It’s in Hocking Hills. Three hour drive. We’ll need to leave here at nine thirty at the latest, okay? I’m going to watch TV in my room. Behave.”