Lemmon's Journey

Chapter Nine

There was now too much emotion in the room. Too much for Reggie to handle. He got up abruptly with a sulky attitude and went into the kitchen. He thought of what to do, then settled to make them some coffee, anything to break up their crying fit. He heard the old man’s moaning voice and wished he would stop. Reggie murmured the lyrics of a song to himself while he busied with washing some of the dishes in the sink. He washed two cups and waited for the water in the kettle to heat up. He looked out the kitchen window as if he found something there to amuse him while he waited for the water to boil. When it did, the made the coffee with milk and sugar, placed them on a tray and carried them to the living room.

Lemmon was still clutching the urn and rocking himself side to side involuntarily like someone try to unloosen a bind. Tears streamed down his eyes and wet his glasses. He couldn’t hold himself from letting loose the hurting tears that poured from his heart and eyes. The world appeared lost to him, now he realized all he’d hoped and dreamed of getting was destroyed, along with half of his life. Shontelle tried to withstand her tears but seeing Gloria’s old man cry brought the past back to her eyes, even as she tried comforting him. the months she had spent getting over the pain of losing her friend was hammering back at her like it happened yesterday.

Reggie dropped the tray on the center table and gave her a cup of coffee. She thanked him and offered it to Lemmon, taking the urn from him. Lemmon felt grateful for the coffee and sniffled repeatedly as he drank its content in silence. Reggie pulled out one of the magazines under the table and sat across from them, wishing the old man would conclude his measly crying.

“I’m sorry you didn’t know,” Shontelle said to him. It sounded dishonest coming from her, but such was how hurting the truth was.

Lemmon dropped his cup of coffee, took off his glasses and cleaned his face with a handkerchief. He couldn’t believe his trip here had been worthless after all—doomed from the start—a hopeless goal he never should have undertaken in the first place. The dark cynical voice was laughing at him now. Its nasty chortle rose above the din of pain he was reeling from inside his head. The voice kept drumming louder and louder in his head, mixed with its chuckling voice: “I told you so . . . I told you so . . .” Lemmon could do nothing except roll with the accusations it snapped at him. It was hard to imagine that his daughter’s remains, all that was left now of his Gloria, now languished inside an urn.

Her and his grandson, Randall.

Randall!

Lemmon looked up with fright as he murmured his grandson’s name. Nothing had being said about Randall, and to make sure he wasn’t starting to lose his sanity, he read the urn’s inscription again before turning to Shontelle.

“What about Randall, her son? What happened to him?”

Even as he asked the question, he was immediately afraid what answer she was going to give him and pleaded in his heart that he wasn’t about to receive further bad news. Shontelle was ashamed already with what she’d revealed to him and though there was more to it, she couldn’t help but turn her face away from his eyes. Her crying went up and it was Lemmon’s turn now to comfort her. She fumbled for her handbag on the table and dove her shaking hand inside. Reggie got to her first. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her. She thanked him and wiped her tears with it.

Lemmon regressed and waited for her to get control of herself, still waiting to hear what she had to say about Randall. The thought of him lying in some unmarked grave in this city sent a spike of pain through his heart and he kept praying it wasn’t so. He couldn’t think what he would do next if that was true.

“Please tell me, Shontelle. What’s become of Randall?” He touched her arm, too impatient to hold back the tremor in his soul. “You’re distressed, I know that. So am I. At least tell me he’s still alive. I want to know is he still alive?”

Reggie decided to take her place in answering the question.

“He’s alive,” he said. “Randall’s alive.”

Lemmon looked at him and the look in Reggie’s eyes told him he wasn’t lying. The chuckling voice inside him gradually went away and Lemmon breathed with relief as the tremor he’d been having vanished too. At least he now had something good to live with.

He thought of Abby and imagined if she were still alive and had somehow done like him, traveled here to search for their daughter, how too she would react after receiving such bad news. How hard would she have taken it? That Gloria had only sent her five letters prior to her death, Lemmon speculated if somehow Abby had known all along that their daughter was no more, and used that as an excuse to keep everything a secret from him? Like that would have been her reason to spare him the pain of ever finding out? It sounded so simple, but Lemmon doubted that. Abby may have been stubborn, but never once was she callous, and thinking through things now, he doubt she’d ever known. But neither that spared him from plenty other questions he would have loved to put through her had she still being alive. He recalled the eerie dream he’d had before he left Sheffield, of him being sucked into a hole while Abby and Gloria stood and watched him get swallowed up. The dream seemed to speak to him, and he wondered now if it meant to explain something to him about what he was expected to find when he arrived here. So confused, Lemmon had never felt so alone and desolate as he was now.

Shontelle excused herself and went into the bedroom, holding the handkerchief to her face. Both men heard her crying voice from inside; neither felt comfortable to say anything. Reggie picked up her unfinished cup of coffee and dropped it on the tray.

“You done with that?” he gestured at Lemmon’s cup of coffee.

“Oh, yes. Thank you.”

Reggie took his cup and carried everything with the tray to the kitchen. He dropped everything in the sink, washed his hands the returned to the living room. He patted his pockets for cigarettes—he sure could use one right now. He could still hear Shontelle’s crying from within the bedroom. Reggie had no intention of joining her in the act. He’d had plenty of such moments through many times of his life and almost always hated the emotional aspect of watching others break down in tears around him. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a heart. Reggie did feel grief for the old man’s plight, and Gloria too had being a friend to both him and Shontelle. He was merely being real, knowing all the tears in the world wasn’t ever going to bring her back in the world. Death was mean as f**k, and final, too. Gloria was gone like yesterday’s news. The sooner her old man and Shontelle learned to get over that, the better things will be for everyone. He couldn’t forget the days Shontelle had wept her eyes off for Gloria, and always Reggie had provided a shoulder for her to lean her head for comfort. Always he was there to shake her back to reality and put things in perspective for her that her friend was gone and no longer coming back. Time to move on and be strong. Reggie listened to her crying and sighed, thinking it might take him the rest of the day to get her to stop sobbing, if ever.

Unable to take it anymore, he went to check on her.

Shontelle sat on the bed with her hands covering her face while her body shook from her crying. She looked up when she heard the door creak open, and tried to force a smile when she saw Reggie standing there.

“Hey,” she murmured.

“Hey, babe. You going to be a’ight?”

“Yeah,” she blew her nose. “Yeah, I’ll be out there in a bit. Just lemme alone for a while, okay?”

“Sure, sure. Take your time.” He closed the door and returned to the living room.

Lemmon hadn’t moved an inch from where he sat. Reggie checked his wallet to see how much money he had left before returning it to his back pocket.

“Mr. Grandee, look . . . I’m sorry about how I reacted to you earlier. I hope you won’t mind, but how ‘bout you and I step out for some fresh air. Shone’s going to be in there for a while, I know this.”

Lemmon looked at him, then returned his eyes to the urn on the table.

“You can leave it here,” Reggie suggested. “We ain’t gonna be gone for long. Just a short walk, is all.”

Lemmon thought for some seconds then nodded and pushed himself to his feet; he left his coat on the couch. Reggie returned to the bedroom and knocked on the door.

“Yo, Shone. I’m taking the old man out for a walk, okay? We’ll be back in a little while.”

“A’ight,” Shontelle yelled back. “I’ll be out by then.”

Reggie joined Lemmon and together they stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind them.

* * *

The sun’s heat warmed Reggie’s face. The sight and sound of being outside the apartment soothed his mind as they stepped out of the building and walked down the short flight of stairs to the sidewalk. His lips itched for a smoke badly. Lemmon followed a step behind as Reggie strutted across the street. They walked westward for half a block, then cut into an alley littered with overfilled garbage bins and sooth-stained walls. Reggie approached a black door near the end of the alley and banged his fist on it. The door opened with a loud creaking sound. A fat black man wearing a bowler hat stood there, eyed them with suspicion at first, then broke into a smile when he recognized Reggie. They shook hands and exchanged banter while Lemmon stood back and watched. The bowler hat man made way for them to walk through; Reggie motioned at Lemmon to follow.

“Front door’s busted,” explained Reggie. “Best way to get the best drinks is through the back door.”

They walked down a narrow passageway that led through a kitchen. Reggie opened a door at the end of the room, manned by another individual. They shook hands and exchanged snappy greetings before the man allowed them into the room which happened to be a bar. There were few customers inside. An old couple occupied a table arguing bitterly with each other. Reggie pulled a chair for Lemmon at the counter and took the one next to him.

“How’re ya doin’, sweetness,” Reggie smiled at the young woman manning the bar. She came over and hugged him. The woman was very dark-skinned and spoke with a Caribbean accent.

“Hiya, Roy. Where you being hiding your fine-looking self?”

“You know me, babe. Here and there, trying to keep an honest way of life in this f****d-up Harlem.”

“That’s good, but keep it down with the cursing, ya hear me. That fine sister taking care of you, I bet.”

“Yeah, she is. She can be a pain in the butt, sometimes. You got any smokes in this joint?”

“Always got some.” She took out a pack of cigarettes from under the counter and a lighter.

“Thanks, hon.” Reggie opened the pack and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag and let the smoke swirl out of her nostrils. “Ahh, that sure hits my G-spot.”

She crackled. “That’s what a lot of you men deserve—a real woman to keep you up on your feet. She don’t want you no more, you come see me, y’hear? What can I get you?”

“I’ll stick with a Heiny, sweetness. You can ask my friend here what he wants.”

Lemmon requested a soda. Her smile faltered and she looked at Reggie who merely shrugged before going to fetch their drinks.

“I’m not any mood for alcohol,” Lemmon admitted. “Not right now.”

The woman got their drinks. Reggie took another puff at his cigarette before raising his glass to his lips. The woman passed him an ashtray before returning to do other things. Lemmon waited till Reggie had settled with his smoke before turning to him with questions raging on his mind.

“Did you know my daughter?”

“Gloria? Hell, sure did,” Reggie answered. “Knew her just as anyone would. Her and Shontelle were best friends. They worked together at that Starbucks place, before Gloria left.”

“What happened? Why did she leave?”

“That jerk of a boss was why. The bastard’s got a sneaky deal going on with some of the girls working there; can’t blame him, they’re all tarts. The bastard’s like a shark sniffing for blood. Shone told me he was always hitting on Gloria. I guess he got an itch for black meat,” Reggie sniggered at his humor; Lemmon had a baffled look on his face. “What I mean is he wanted to get in her pants.”

“Did he do it?”

“Gloria told him to step off, but the prick didn’t like that at all. One night he caught her off-guard, and she smacked his face. That was the last time she stayed with that job.”

“How long ago was this? You by chance remember?”

Reggie thought for a moment. “Happened early summer last year, I think.”

“Was it just her he went after?”

Reggie shook his head. “He tried making a run at Shontelle too, but my girl didn’t give the prick no chance, but she don’t know that I know. Shontelle don’t like anything getting me hot and bothered, thinking I’d come pay her boss a visit and crack the fool’s skull. Not that I’d mind doing that at all. The bastard likes picking on women he thinks he can ride over. Such wicked bullshit, if you ask me.”

He dragged on his cigarette then drank some beer. Lemmon took a break by sipping his soda. He was soon back with more questions.

“How did she and Shontelle meet? Do you know?”

Reggie took another moment to think before answering. “Happened a little after Shon and I started getting close. Back then, Shon was trying to get hooked into some culinary school while I waited tables at some joint up on Lenox. Gloria went to the same school; I reckon that’s where they met. Was kinda strange seeing them walking together sometimes, you know—a white girl and a black girl—but they were tight. Tight like sisters. They looked out for one another.”

“You know of her son, Randall? My grandson.”

“Sure I know Randall. Cool kid. Gloria worshipped that little boy of his.”

“Then tell me where he is, for God’s sake.” Lemmon steeled his words. “He’s my grandson, Reggie. I need to know where he is, and also what happened to my daughter. I want to know all of this.”

“I feel for you, old man.” Reggie drew him closer. “Listen, this here ain’t the sort of place for this type of talk. Come on, drink up then let’s head back to the crib. Shontelle ought be done crying her eyes out about now, and I’m f*****g hungry talking this talk here. Damn!”

Reggie finished with his cigarette and crushed it in the ashtray. He drained his beer and smacked his lips while Lemmon hurriedly drank his soda. Reggie dug out his wallet but Lemmon stopped him and dropped a ten Dollar bill on the counter. The Caribbean woman scooped it up and gave him his change. Reggie waved goodbye to her and promised to swing by again later.

They left through the way they had come, once again stopping to shake hands with the msn manning the back door before walking out of the alley.

They returned to the building and let themselves into the apartment. Reggie hollered at Shontelle as soon as he slammed shut the door that they were back. Lemmon returned to the former couch and resumed staring at his daughter’s urn.

Shontelle replied that she was in the kitchen. Reggie took off his jacket and went to check on her. She wasn’t crying anymore. Reggie stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waistline. He kissed the back of her neck.

“What you doing, babe?” he asked her.

“Heating up the leftovers from last night,” she checked the pot on the stove. “We’re going to have to get some fish and chicken curry later for tomorrow.”

He didn’t let go of her, and Shontelle drew comfort and strength from his touch. She was drained from the length of tears she had shed before they left.

“How’re you feeling now?”

“Fine. Not okay, but fine is all right for me.”

They kept their voices down. Neither wanted to be the one to explain to him what really had become of Gloria. They knew in the end though they’d let him know.

“I know,” said Reggie. “It could have been you, Shon. Don’t beat yourself over the head about it.”

“That’s the problem, Reg. There’s no getting rid of what happened. Everything just feels kind of wrong. All these months, I never thought about her. We stuck her urn in the living room like a f*****g piece of furniture and forgot about her. She was my friend, Roy. What happened to her was horrible, and I can’t stop feeling bad about it—I wasn’t there for her. I could have, but I wasn’t.”

“Quit that talk, Shon. It wasn’t your fault. Gloria was messed up, ain’t nothing you could have done for her.”

“Doesn’t make anything easy for me, Reg,” she replied. “It’s f****d to think we couldn’t have tried.”

“Don’t f*****g say that. You did try, we both did for her, but she wouldn’t take it. It wasn’t your fault, and you damn well know it. You know what could have happened messing with Wilkes.”

“I know. Just that . . . I feel like I betrayed her—”

“Who is Wilkes?”

They turned their heads at the interrupting voice. Lemmon stood at the doorway looking at them. He had overheard their murmuring and gotten closer to catch half of their argument, knowing it was about Gloria. Now he had another name added to the equation—Wilkes—he demanded to know what was going on.

“Hey there, Lem,” Reggie loosened his arms from Shontelle. “How long you being standing there, man?”

“You two aren’t being straight with me. I want to know what else you’re both hiding from me.” Lemmon was angry and he wasn’t hiding it. “I want to know where my grandson is, and what happened to Gloria. Tell me, or I’m going to the police right now.”

Reggie and Shontelle knew he wasn’t playing.

“All right Mr. Grandee,” said Shontelle. “You and Reggie wait out in the living room. Let me be done with this here, then we’ll tell you everything we know.”

Lemmon said nothing as he and Reggie returned to the living room. Shontelle stepped out of the kitchen minutes later, wiping her hands with a dish cloth. She sat beside Lemmon while Reggie went to perch by the window.

Shontelle took a deep breath before she started talking.