THE GREAT PRETENDER (33 page)

Placing a quick kiss on her lips, he rose and got something out of his briefcase. “I have another surprise.” She saw him pull a CD from a plastic bag. “Nat King Cole. You love him so much but”—he held it up so she could see it—“you don’t have this one.” He smiled.

Tracy’s eyes widened. “Oh, thank you, Reg! That’s so thoughtful! Thank you so much. Put it on!”

“I knew
that
would put a smile on your face.” Reggie slid the CD into the stereo, and when the smooth melody of “
The Very Thought of You”
filled the room, he turned back to her. “Now, there’s something I want to ask you to do for me, but I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it—”

“What?”

“I’d like
you
to write the letter to Renee.”

“What? Me? Why should I write it?”

“Well, I’ll tell you what to write, but I just want you to be a part of it. I don’t want to do it without you. And also because your handwriting could help show that this is not just another fictitious story I’m feeding her.”

Tracy didn’t feel comfortable about writing the letter, but she agreed to sit with him while he wrote it himself. They went downstairs to Reginald’s home office, where he labored over it for nearly two hours. It was a difficult experience for Tracy. She still found it hard to believe that Reggie had another offspring out there…A child she hadn’t mothered.

Once they were both happy with the final draft, Tracy sealed the envelope and promised to mail it for him right after Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving Day was
uneventful. Olivia was a no-show, despite the fact that Valerie practically begged her to join them, and they each felt her absence. Nevertheless, they went through the motions, playing their parts, but their minds were elsewhere.

Reginald watched football with Tracy’s brothers, but he was only partially tuned into the game. He was worried about Tracy. Though she said and did all the right things, something wasn’t right, and Reggie spent the better part of the day thinking about it. Had the news about Renee and Denise been harder to swallow than she was letting on?

Tracy busied herself, as usual, at her mother’s side. When Beverly attempted to talk about the problems at home, Tracy was vague and distant. As time went on, her guilt about the affair only increased, and it was all she could do not to wear it plainly on her sleeve for the world to see. The last thing she wanted to do was talk—even with her mother. She just couldn’t yet.

Despite the fact that her cousins encouraged her to mingle with them, Valerie stuck close to her mom and grandmother. She worried about the new course her life was taking. She was also worried about her condition…About the possibility of another outbreak of warts…

It was a solemn day. They struggled to celebrate thanksgiving.

Curled up on
her sofa and watching the parades on television,
Olivia spent Thanksgiving
Day completely alone. Her phone rang several times, but she never even bothered to check the caller ID to see who was calling.

H
er brother, John, was staring down at her; his eyes were blazing as he laughed. Her mother and father sat together on a see-through sofa, shaking their heads in disappointment. Her sister, Helen, was reaching for Denise, whom she held firmly in her arms.

“Denise comes with me!” Renee hissed as she stepped backward. She looked down quickly and realized she was barefoot. “Wherever I go, she goes.”

Helen stretched and grabbed for Denise’s feet, but Renee pulled away, stepping backward farther and farther until finally their sniggering faces seemed to be fading. But she could still hear the laughing. They were laughing at her, her own family.

“Renee!” She heard Helen’s voice. “Renee! Come back! She’s only six years old…Bring Denise back! We’ll take care of you—both of you! Come back!” Helen’s voice became desperate, but all Renee heard was the laughing.

She held Denise with a firm grip, hanging on to her for dear life. Denise was her only hope.

“Mommy?”

She heard her daughter’s voice above all the laughter as she continued moving backward. Renee was afraid, and she glanced behind her to see where they were going, but she could see nothing. Nothing but darkness lay before them.

“Mommy? It’s dark down there. Where are we going?”

“Be quiet now, Denise. I need you to be quiet so Mommy can think, okay?” Renee continued into the darkness.

“But, Mommy, I’m scared. It’s dark over there. Let’s…let’s go back to Aunt Helen.” She felt Denise’s small hands tightened their grip on her shoulders.

“Renee!” Helen’s voice reverberated through the darkness. “Renee, you fool! You’re
such
a fool!” Then she began to laugh again. “You stupid fool! You
have
to come back—you have no place else to go now! We told you, you fool! We told you!” Helen’s forceful laughter pierced her, a sharp, evil stab. She looked down.

Her hands were bleeding.

Renee turned around now and began running into the darkness. She had to get away from them, all of them. She ran even though she could see nothing.

She secured her grip on Denise, and she ran.

Her body jerked
, awakening her from the awful dream. Renee bolted to a sitting position in the bed and realized that her silk nightgown was plastered to her heaving chest, soaked in sweat. She’d begun wearing her sexiest attire to bed, hoping that Reginald might return and surprise her late one night or early in the morning. Alas, he had yet to return.

As usual, as reality slowly settled around her, her body slackened in relief and she breathed deeply. She was safe in her bedroom. She’d had another dream.

The dreams had been happening a lot lately. Always the same
piercing
laughter. Always her holding Denise and running into the blackness. And always ending with her waking up soaked in sweat, feeling so frightful, it gnawed her soul.

What the hell was all the laughing about?

In the months
since Reginald had left to care for his sick daughter, Renee had been living in pure torment.

There was no consoling her; there was no making her happy. Nothing anyone said or did took away the emptiness. She wanted Reginald back, here at home with her and Denise.

Renee felt lost…And she wouldn’t find herself again until Reginald came back to her…

Something was wrong
with her mommy. Denise didn’t know how she could fix it. How could she make her Mommy like her again?

One evening, her mommy had set her bath and left her in the tub to wash herself with the soap and water. Since she had never done it before, she had tried her best. She did what she saw her mommy and her Aunt Helen do; made bubbles with the water and rubbed them all over her body. They always said to wash under your arms and privates really good. Denise made sure she washed hard, so that maybe Mommy would see how good she did it and she would like her again.

But no…all she did was come in and dry her off with her big Barbie towel and pull her nightgown over her head. Then she told her to stay in her room and go straight to bed. How long was Mommy going to be mad at her? What did she do to make her mad? Denise wished she knew so she could stop doing it. She didn’t like doing her own wash in the tub. She wanted her mommy to bathe her.

Denise also wanted her daddy to come back home now so that she could stop missing him. She wondered if her mom would be happy again if Daddy came back home from his long time at work.

Now as she lay in her bed, snuggled under her Barbie comforter, Denise closed her eyes and said her prayers. She told God to bless Mommy and Daddy, to make her a good little girl so that her mommy would like her again, and to bring her daddy back home so he could help her make Mommy happy again.

As with nearly
every morning of late, on Thanksgiving Day, Renee had to force herself to open her eyes when she woke up. A look at the bedside clock told her it was early, only seven thirty.

She heard the chatter of a television and realized that that must’ve been what had awakened her. Getting up, she made her way down the hallway and opened Denise’s bedroom door. She wasn’t there, but the television was on. Renee turned and made her way downstairs.

She came up short when she entered the kitchen. Denise was standing on the counter in her nightgown, reaching on top of the refrigerator for the box of
Lucky Charms
cereal near the edge. One of the wooden chairs was pulled out from under the table and had been perched against the counter.

“What are you doing?” Renee stomped over to the counter and pulled her down. “Are you crazy? Suppose you fell off there?” She slammed Denise down on her feet and shoved the chair back under the table, the hind legs making an awful screeching sound. “And why do you have that television so loud this early in the morning, Denise? It woke me up!” She bore down on her daughter, slapping her hard across the cheek. “Get your little butt upstairs and turn that TV off right now!”

Denise’s hand flew to her jaw to smother the stinging. Tears pooled into her eyes. “But, Mommy, I’m hungry. I just wanted some cereal, and you didn’t wake up yet, so I was trying to get it by myself.”

Renee backhanded her other jaw. “
Did I not say get upstairs?
Get upstairs and turn off that damn television—
now!
”

Denise held in a wail, her small body trembling. The tears fell as she covered her mouth to avoid making her mother slap her again.

After the last time…she should’ve known better. This was becoming the norm.

Helen was overcome
with pride as she took the turkey from the oven. No one, not even her mother, could make a turkey as well as she did. It was always tender and succulent. Yes, her turkeys were the best.

As she and her mother, Bea, prepared the food for serving, Renee and Denise arrived. As usual, Denise came running in with a big smile. Helen wiped her hands on a dishcloth and bent to scoop her up.

Her eyes widened in alarm when she saw her face. The child had four visible finger marks printed out on her left cheek, just under her eye. Both sides of her face were slightly swollen and red.

“Renee, what the hell happened now? Mom, look at this child’s face!” Helen held her up toward Bea.

Bea’s face hardened as she spun on Renee. “What in Christ’s name is going on? Why did you slap the poor child in her face like that?”

Helen clutched Denise to her and said, “I’m gonna go put something on these welts. Oh, my God!” She shook her head as she carried Denise off to the bathroom upstairs.

Renee rolled her eyes as she address her mother. “Listen, she woke me up this morning with the television blasting, and when I went downstairs to find her, she had climbed up on the kitchen counter trying to get the cereal off the top of the refrigerator! Now, Denise ought to know better than that. She could’ve fallen off and broken her neck.”

“No more than you whacking her across the jaw so hard it left your hand print on her face!” Bea took a deep breath. “Renee, I don’t think anyone has to tell you that you shouldn’t have slapped the little girl on her face like that! Why not slap her on her butt or on her legs? Why on her face? Did you see what you did to her face? That was uncalled for, Renee!” Bea slammed a large serving spoon down on the counter. “I’m sick of you beating and yelling at the poor child as though you’re some god-awful tyrant and she’s a little devil. She’s not! She’s a good little girl.”

Her brother walked in. John was of medium height and though he was thirty, he didn’t look a day over eighteen. “What’s all this going on in here? We can hear you all from the den!”

“Renee’s gonna beat that girl to death, you hear? Every time I turn around, there’s a new mark or something on the child.” Bea looked at Renee, hard. “What’s happening to you, daughter? What’s
really
going on with you?”

“Look, you all need to just back off. Leave me alone. Children need discipline. Denise is no exception. I’m not breaking any bones. I just have to let her know when she’s doing something wrong, that’s all.”

“But the poor child can’t
breathe
for fear of doing something wrong, Renee!” Bea said, slamming her hand on the counter once again. “Can’t you see that?”