51
Daybreak ushered in a beautiful sunrise. Brenda lay face up in bed, her eyes focused on the oak ceiling fan that looked like a gigantic upside down palm in the middle of nowhere. Her mind raced and then drifted in a thousand directions as the events of yesterday descended upon her like an instant replay.
Her heart ached for Asia and Trevor having to hear that the father they adored—at least for most of their lives—had been unfaithful and had fathered Asia’s best friend, Afrika…their sister. Brenda wasn’t sure what would become of the friendship, but by all accounts, it was now strained. And her brain moved to the next stop.
The gall of Mimi’s husband, showing up on her doorstep in an attempt to try and find Victor. Who in the world did he think he was…the President of the United States? Did he really think he was going to come into her home, Victor’s home, and do bodily harm? He had some nerve, but Brenda also admired him because he had the backbone to stand up and confront the enemy…to protect his family in the face of conflict.
It was time to rise and Brenda sat up, bringing her legs over the side of the bed. In a circular motion, she rolled her head to one side and then the other, finally stretching her arms upwards. Then she stiffened, her neck locked into place with her ears pointed in the direction she believed the slow sing-song melody flowed. There it was again, but Brenda, now alert, recognized the tone of her doorbell.
“Trevor, are you up?” she called. There was no answer. Of course, he was up and gone to school. Although Asia had spent the night, she had probably left for campus, too. There was no need to call out to her. The doorbell rang once more.
Brenda looked back at the clock. It was eight thirty-one. Who in the world would be ringing her doorbell this early? Maybe Victor decided it was time to show his face, but she’d be damned if she was going to the door and let him in. He still had a key; however, the only way Victor would get through the door, even with a key, was if he crawled on all fours and begged.
There was silence. Brenda realized the doorbell had stopped ringing, but she heard voices. She sprung from the bed, grabbed the pink satin robe that lay at the foot of her bed, and tiptoed to the door. Asia was still here, but Brenda couldn’t hear the conversation that was taking place downstairs.
“Nooooooooooooooooooooooo! Noooooooooooooooooooooo! Oh my God. Mother!”
Brenda wrapped her arms around her chest and began to shake. The blood-curdling scream paralyzed her and kept her from responding.
“Mother!” Asia screamed.
From the safety of her room, Brenda listened to Asia’s screams. Dread and panic constricted her throat as images began to run rampant through her brain. Asia’s screams could only mean bad news and the thought of what was at the core petrified Brenda.
Heavy footsteps pounded the stairs. “Motherrrrrrr!” Asia shouted again.
As if her strength returned with a quickness, Brenda jerked the door open. “What is all that screaming about?” Brenda inquired, afraid to look into Asia’s face, fearing the words that might fall from her mouth.
Wet from crying, Asia stood in front of her mother’s bedroom door. She looked like a zombie who had awakened from a drug-overdosed stupor. Then Asia began to whimper and reached for Brenda. “Daddy…Daddy’s dead,” Asia finally said, placing her hand over her pounding heart in an effort to calm down.
All Brenda could do was stare with glazed eyes. Without saying a word, her tear ducts filled and coursed over her lids and dropped wherever they fell, like the rushing waters of Niagara Falls. Brenda grabbed Asia and pulled her into her bosom, holding her in a tight embrace as if that would cause the hurt and pain to go away.
“Hello,” said the voice from below.
Brenda pulled back and looked into Asia’s eyes, pleading with her silently…that the information she just delivered was all a mistake.
“Police officers,” Asia whimpered, “they want to talk with you. I’ll stay here until you come back.”
Wracked with pain, Brenda looked at her daughter and then turned and walked slowly down the stairs. Her soul was ripped apart, and now she had to face the men who would confirm everything Asia had said.
Now at the bottom of the stairs, Brenda continued her slow walk through the foyer and to the large double doors that stood ajar. Stone-faced, she pulled her robe tightly around her and faced the two officers that looked about as unhappy to be on her front porch as she was to see them. She waved them into the foyer, closed the door, and listened.
“Mrs. Christianson?” the officer asked.
“Yes.” She didn’t recognize the two officers.
“I’m Officer Lacy and this is Officer Carter. Umm, I guess you’re already aware that we’re the bearers of not-so-good news.”
Brenda was in a daze, looking well beyond where the officers stood.
“What happened? What happened to Victor?” she finally asked in a low monotone voice, directing her question at Lacy.
“Ma’am, a couple on their way home from church found Mr. Christianson bleeding and non-responsive near a set of railroad tracks in east Durham. He was probably already dead. Someone shot him, and when EMS arrived, he was pronounced dead. Looks as if he may have been dumped at that location.”
Brenda cringed and hunched up her shoulders. A sudden chill rolled through her like an unexpected avalanche that made her tighten her grip on her body. A dull sadness shone in her eyes, but the tears refused to drop anymore.
“Thank you, Officer Lacy.”
“We’re sorry for your loss, ma’am. The body…uh, uh Mr. Christianson’s body, was taken to Duke University Medical Center. If you need anything, please let us know.”
With downcast eyes, Brenda held the door open as the officers left. She watched as they retreated and ambled down the walkway, got in their patrol car, and drove away. Dead! It wasn’t possible that Victor had departed this life without her getting her last say. Good and bad memories joined together as she fought back tears sifting through the last twenty years of her and Victor’s life.
Brenda closed the door and sighed. She shook her head. “It can’t be true; he’s still alive. No, he isn’t dead.”
“Mother?”
Brenda walked through the foyer and stood at the base of the stairs and stared up at Asia. “He’s dead, Asia. Your father is dead.”
Asia stood at the top of the stairs, rocking back and forth. “I hate Nikki.”