Alibi (15 page)

D
aisy arrived at the abortion clinic on Thirty-eighth and Haverford Avenue at 7:07
A.M
. She was on time and ready to go. A receptionist was behind the desk. She watched as Daisy walked through the door and approached
her desk. She already knew why the young girl was there.

“Who are you scheduled with today?” she politely asked, pulling Dr. Vistane’s booklet after Daisy answered her. She took Daisy’s
name, checked it off in the log, and handed Daisy a clipboard with forms attached to it that needed to be filled out and some
information—pamphlets on abortion, what to expect, and other information, such as side effects and recovery. Daisy took the
clipboard and had a seat in front of a floor-model television that was turned to the early morning news. Daisy listened to
the reporter read off the wave of current news events. She finished her paperwork and handed the clipboard back to the receptionist.

“Okay, just have a seat and the nurse will be with you shortly.”

At seven-thirty Daisy was led up a flight of stairs and into a small nurse’s office where she had her temperature taken and
her blood pressure checked and then was handed a small cup to go to the bathroom in.

Daisy answered all the nurses’ questions, used the bathroom, and then sat in the waiting area until she was called into the
procedure room, where she undressed, put on a robe, and lay on a table. Minutes later, a doctor stepped into the room. It
was the anesthesiologist, along with her gynecologist, Dr. Vistane. Dr. Vistane lifted her legs and placed her feet in the
stirrups at the ends of the table as he asked her several questions, double-checked that she hadn’t eaten or drunk anything
past midnight, and then began to explain the procedure and everything that would be happening. Daisy sat there listening to
the anesthesiologist first and then Dr. Vistane. Truth was, she had heard it all before. Actually, it seemed like yesterday,
and she remembered it all.
Let’s just get this over with,
she thought, thinking of the last time she was there.

“Wait, I thought I was just getting a needle, local anesthesia like the last time?” questioned Daisy.

“No, Daisy, we’re going to put you to sleep. Don’t worry, it’s better this way, you won’t feel a thing,” said Dr. Vistane,
smiling down on her.

“Just begin to count backward from one hundred,” said the anesthesiologist as Daisy began to count, not making it to ninety-two.
Daisy’s head was heavy, and she felt amazingly free, the highest of any high she had been legally administered, and it felt
great. Before she knew it, she was asleep.

Dr. Vistane performed anywhere from four to eighteen abortions every day at the clinic. The patients were mostly black, as
the clinic was located in an all black neighborhood. Dr. Vistane was in his mid-forties and had a family of his own at home.
Even though abortions were frowned upon, Dr. Vistane felt he was actually saving poor, black souls. Dr. Vistane believed that
blacks were the lower class, not just financially, but all the way around the board, and to help rid the world of another
black bastard baby was something that needed to be done.
Just look at how they live, and the men don’t provide, the homes are broken, the children lost, and their neighborhoods are
all crime-ridden.
Yes, he was doing great humanitarian work.

It wouldn’t be until late in the afternoon that Daisy would come to, her head aching, her body sore, her abdomen cramping.

“Hi, I’m Stephanie, and if you need anything just let me know.”

Daisy’s head was spinning and she waited a few seconds as she watched the room stand still.

“Here, take this, you’ll probably have some cramping,” said Stephanie, placing a heating pad on her stomach.

“What time is it? I feel like I’ve been sleeping all day.”

“You have, it’s four-thirty.”

Four-thirty? What in the world did he do to me? I been asleep way too long. Maybe they just gave me too much anesthesia.

“I’m really hungry and thirsty.”

“Okay, wait, I’ll be right back.” Stephanie quickly went behind the nurses’ station and into a back room. She came back out
with a small paper cup of ginger ale and a packet of crackers.

“This is only two crackers,” said Daisy, trying to remember the last time she ate.

“No, eat that and drink that first and if you don’t get sick, I’ll give you some more. Just try to rest right now. I’ll be
back to check on you. Here, I’ll turn the television volume up for you,” said Stephanie, as she stood on a chair and raised
the sound from the television.

“Thank you,” said Daisy.

She lay in the chair and closed her eyes. The abortion was over, whatever had been growing inside her was gone now. It was
a relief. Sad but true, Daisy could barely take care of herself, let alone another human being. The television faded in the
background until she heard a news reporter. “I’m standing outside the Honey Dipper where a brutal murder occurred early this
morning. It appears that Calvin Stringer was closing his strip club for the night when a witness claims that he saw two men
wearing masks and carrying guns enter the establishment and within seconds he heard gunfire erupting, leaving fifty-three-year-old
Calvin Stringer dead. Police have no suspects and have no motive at this time.”

Behind the news reporter you could see two EMT workers pushing a gurney with a black body bag containing Calvin Stringer’s
body. He was taken across the parking lot, the gurney folded down and lifted into an ambulance.

“Oh, my god, oh, my god,” whispered Daisy. A sudden nervousness fell on her shoulders like a heavy magnet and stuck to her.
She thought about the night before. How she told Sticks what Calvin had said, how he threatened to testify that she wasn’t
working that night.

“The alibi isn’t going to work.”

“Don’t worry about Calvin Stringer, I’ll take care of him.”

Sticks’s voice echoed through her as she looked at the television.
What if Sticks killed him? Sticks killed Calvin for the alibi.

She remembered the last time she saw Calvin alive. She had tried to get her job back at the Honey Pot.

“Please Calvin, please. I need my job, I need it.”

She didn’t have to tell him that. He already knew it. But Daisy had gotten herself caught up with some real bad people and
Calvin didn’t want no part of her escapade.

“Get on out of here,” she heard his voice bellow as he closed his door in her face. That was the last time she saw him.

Daisy turned her head and wiped her eyes. She was certain that it was because of her that Calvin was dead. “Oh, Calvin, I’m
so, so, sorry,” she whispered as a tear rolled down her face.

The taxicab dropped Daisy off in front of her house. She looked across the street at the Cadillac Sticks had bought for her.
A part of her wished that she had never accepted the car.
That’s okay, I’m gonna use that car to get the hell out of here. That’s what I’m gonna do.

She went into her apartment and began to pack up all her and Abigail’s personal belongings. Everything she planned on taking
with her, she began to lay out neatly on the bed.
I ain’t never coming back here. In my heart, I already know I ain’t coming back to this place.
She had a few pieces of living room furniture, a small table and four chairs in the kitchen, and her mother’s bed and dresser.
Not much, but enough that she didn’t want to walk away from nothing.
What am I going to do with this stuff? Don’t really matter, because where I’m going, I won’t need it.
She hated to part with her mother’s things and her mother’s clothing. Just having Abigail’s clothes still hanging in the
closet was a comfort to Daisy, making her feel that she wasn’t alone, even when she was. She went over to the closet, reached
up to a top shelf and took down a red shoe box that she had been using to hold her prize winnings from the bank. She looked
in the box. It was all there. All the money was in place, just as she had left it. She sat on the bed and fumbled her fingers
through the paper bills. The anesthesia was wearing off and she was feeling tired, her head was beginning to ache, and her
abdomen was sore. She lay down, holding the box of money by her side as she drifted off to sleep.

Bang, bang, bang!

Daisy jumped from a peaceful sleep. She sat up and listened to the sound of someone banging on her door.

Bang, bang, bang!

“I know you in there. Come on out here. Don’t act like you don’t know it’s me. You know who it is, Daisy.”

Is that evil-ass Lester? A month done went by that fast? Damn, let me get up.
Daisy put her feet on the floor as she heard Lester at her door again.

Bang, bang, bang!

“Okay, I’m coming, Lester, chill out, you gonna break the damn door,” she said as she unlocked the bolt, cracked the door,
and peered out at him.

“What the fuck you peeking at me for, looking like yesterday. Don’t peek at me, open the damn door,” Lester Giles demanded.
“That’s the problem now, it’s my god damn door, don’t nobody got my money on time in this motherfucker and I’m sick and tired
of it. Just sick and tired of it. You getting out of here, you hear me Daisy? You got to go.”

“You want me to leave you the furniture?”

“I don’t care what you do, but you gon— What you just say?”

“I said…” she paused for a moment, getting control of the conversation. “Do you want me to leave the furniture?”

Lester stood silent, not saying anything.

“Look, Lester, it’s just not working for me no more since Momma died, and I’m leaving, I’m getting out of here. I’m going
back down South with my aunt Tildie and my cousin.”

“You mean them family of yours that visited for the funeral?”

“Yeah, my aunt and my cousin. I’m going to stay with them now.”

Lester looked around the apartment and decided the furnishings weren’t that bad.
Shit looks all right, pretty clean looking.

“When you leaving?”

“I don’t know, Lester. I’m getting my things together, now. But, I um… just taking step by step, right now.” She shook her
head, not really knowing if she was coming or going.

“I don’t owe you rent, ’cause you was just here and I gave you some pussy and the month ain’t even went by. What, you back
for more?”

Lester grew silent. He was thinking. First of all he had someone willing to pay him double the rent she was paying. Not to
mention, he was holding three months’ security deposit from Abigail.
Daisy probably don’t know that,
he figured, so why mention it. “Well… um… no, I guess if you’re moving on, and you leaving the furnishings,” he added, lifting
his eyebrow and staring her down for an answer.

“No, I’m not taking the furniture, just my things, my clothes, you know.”

“Well, then, I’ll clear your tab. You know you owe me about two months’ rent. But, I like you, Daisy, I’m gonna let you slide.”

“I thought we took care of my tab the last time you was banging on my door like you were crazy. Come to think of it, Lester,
as much pussy I done had to give you to live in this rat hole, you’d think that you owed me something by now.”

Lester stood calm and still. He thought silently. “Shit, you probably is right,” he said, breaking into laughter. Daisy didn’t
find his humor entertaining at all, and she just watched him as he laughed so hard, he couldn’t catch his breath.

“Look at your face,” he said as he laughed at her some more. “I can’t take it. I got to go, I got shit to do.”

You need to have something to do, Lester Giles, landlord from hell.
She watched him walk down the hall and take the staircase up to the next floor.
He’s probably going to harass someone else for their rent money or even worse.
She thought of all the times she had entertained Lester Giles, giving him sexual favors in exchange for the roof over her
head.
I wonder who else Lester Giles got sexual favors from in the building.
Little did she know, he got favors from every woman he could in exchange for rent. It was his little dirty secret and always
had been. His wife didn’t have a clue, but sure enough, Lester Giles purposely took young, single female tenants in hopes
that they would fall on hard times, find themselves between jobs or at a loss, and need desperately to keep a roof over their
heads.
Thank god, the bank made a bank error and gave me all that money,
she thought to herself.
I woulda had to sleep with Lester again next month.

No sooner had she closed the door than the phone rang.
Why aren’t people still asleep?
She walked over to the phone and answered it on the third ring.

“Hello.”

“Didn’t I tell you, let me handle things, and look what happens, now we straight,” said Sticks, talking in circles but actually
hitting the bull’s-eye on point.

“What you talking ’bout, Sticks?” she said, unable to keep up with his fast talk and half conversation.

“Your man, Calvin Stringer. Shit, you can go on over to the Honey Dipper and get your old job back if you want,” he added.

Is he out of his mind?

“So, Dais of the week, is we straight? How you like the car?”

He’s insane.

“It’s all right, I haven’t had a chance to drive it yet.”

“Why not?”

“I been sick, Sticks. I feel better today, though.”

“All right, well check this. I got to go, I got to get out of here. I’ll call you back and don’t forget, we on like popcorn
for the twenty-third.”

Daisy couldn’t believe him. He had as good as admitted to killing Calvin. Not directly, but indirectly. Daisy hung up the
phone and began moving around the apartment. She was okay from yesterday and she was ready to go, ready to get away while
she had the chance.
I can’t believe he killed Calvin. He’s crazy, he’s really crazy. What if he does something to me? He wouldn’t do nothing to
me, would he? Damn, this shit is getting way too heavy.

Daisy packed up everything she would be taking and even packed up some of her mother’s deepest treasures to give to her aunt
Tildie. She had eight large trash bags and five medium-sized boxes of everything she owned in her life.
I ain’t got no choice. I stay here I’ll probably end up like Calvin, or worse, incarcerated for perjury like the police said.
I ain’t got no choice, Sticks ain’t leaving me none.