Another Man Will (21 page)

C
HAPTER
36

Yvette

I
didn't want to go to Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving was for giving thanks. I knew I had a lot to be happy about—my life, my health, my children—but I didn't feel like celebrating anything. Payment arrangements, extensions, speaking to a supervisor . . . I didn't want to do any of the above anymore. I needed money. I needed a job. These past few months had been pure hell, and, well, I didn't want to be around anyone. That man I interviewed with, Mr. Creighton, had guaranteed me a second interview, and all I got was a form letter saying that they went with another candidate.

My mom had been calling me all morning, making sure I made my red potato salad for Thanksgiving dinner. I'd made the salad, but I still wasn't going to dinner. I didn't really want to disappoint everyone, but I didn't want to make everyone miserable, either. I'd rather keep my drama to myself. She started calling my phone nonstop. I finally answered.

“Mom, I'm not coming to Thanksgiving, but you can pick up the potato salad,” I told her when she called again.

“Why not?”

“I don't feel too good. I think I'm coming down with something.”

“Yvette, you can keep staying in the house, isolating yourself from the rest of the world, acting like a hermit, but it doesn't help. I think you might be depressed.”

“I'm not depressed, Mom, really. I don't want anyone else to catch what I have.”

“Well, at least let me pick up the kids, because Crystal made all of this food, and they can bring you a plate home. Okay?”

“Sure, Mom. I'm sure they want to come.” When I got off the phone, I called out to Brandon and Mercedes and told them to get dressed.

Fifteen minutes later my mom called back. “Yvette, I'm outside.”

Damn, I didn't want to see her. I was hoping she'd beep the horn and keep it moving. I sat up and squinted my eyes so I could look sick. Then I went to the door and let my mom in.

“Mom, your hair looks nice.” Her curls were tight, like she had just taken her rollers out, and the gold hoops matched the brown pantsuit she had on.

“I went and had it done yesterday.” She studied my face. I knew she was trying to determine if I was really sick or not.

“You must be sick, because you look a mess.” She patted my wild hair down for me.

I began to cough and sniffle, and she backed away from me and I said, “Yeah, I am. I don't know what I came down with.”

“Well, if you change your mind, just call and someone will come back and get you.”

“Okay.” I coughed once more.

They all left, and I was free to do nothing. I made sure the door was locked and turned off all the lights. I went into my bedroom, flicked the television on, and put the covers over my head and closed my eyes. I rested for two hours and then had a change of heart and decided to go to Crystal's and surprise everyone.

 

 

Daddy had two men to watch the game with him, and Terell seemed to be fitting in just fine with my father. I was happy I'd come, but I did feel out of place. At least I showed up. Now I could leave. I felt like my sisters' lives were on track and mine was still a wreck. My mom was kind enough to make me a plate, but I only picked off of it. I wasn't hungry; I was miserable.

“So are you going shopping with us in the morning?” Dana asked.

I shook my head. “No.”

My mom said, “Why not? We go Black Friday shopping every year. I have to get some things. Your dad is taking me to the Florida Keys for our anniversary.”

“Oh, that's nice,” I said. “I forgot you guys' anniversary was in a few days. Yeah, but I'm not for all that pushing and rushing around the store. This year.”

“I saw on the news that the stores are opening up at midnight tonight. So it might not be as crowded,” Crystal said.

“Go with us, Yvette,” my mom insisted.

“Well, I don't feel like getting up early, I don't feel well, and I have things I have to do. Actually, I'm about to leave now.” I didn't get why they kept asking me to go when they knew I didn't have any money.

My niece Jewel tapped me on my leg. “Aunt Yvette, can I come over and spend the night?”

“No, sorry. Not tonight.”

“Then, Mom, can I spend the night over here and go shopping with them in the morning?” Mercedes asked.

“No, Mercedes.”

“Mom, why not? There is no school tomorrow. And we always go shopping.”

“I'm getting tired. I'm about to get out of here,” I said.

“Well, if you want them to stay, they can, Yvette,” Crystal said.

“Okay. Just drop them off tomorrow.” I put on my coat, told everyone good night.

“If you want to go shopping, I have money for you to go,” my mom whispered to me as she caught up with me at the door.

“I can't go shopping. I have bills, Mom.”

“Well, still take this. Take care of your bills. And I was talking to your father.... Listen, we have space at the house. I'm tired of seeing you struggle. You have family. Why don't you just come back home? Brandon can take your old bedroom, and you and Mercedes can go in the back room.”

“Mom, I don't want to move back home. I'll be okay, but thanks for the offer. When I get everything together, I promise I will pay you back all the money you and Daddy have been loaning me.”

“We know you will.”

C
HAPTER
37

Yvette

M
y parents were on their way to Key West, Florida, I'd just dropped them off at the airport. And now I was off to take care of all my business with the money my mother loaned me. I was en route to the storage facility to pay my storage bill in person, and from there I planned to go to the market, and then it would be time for the kids to get home from school.

I walked into the U-Haul storage center. It was a big multilevel warehouse. There were people loading boxes, and the phones kept ringing. The woman at the counter asked how she could help me.

“I'm here to pay my storage bill.”

“Last name and unit number?”

“It should be under McKnight or Turner-McKnight; it's unit 178.”

“Okay, let me see. I'll be right back.” She came back and said, “Miss, you sure that's your unit number? Because that unit is showing as empty.”

“Why would it be empty? That's the number on my paperwork.”

“Let me see it. Let me check this other system.” Her fingers tapped fast on the keyboard. She picked up the phone and made a call, told someone to check my unit. They radioed back that it was empty. “Hold on,” she told me. “Maybe they moved it.”

Why would they move my belongings?
I thought.

“Okay. I know what's going on,” the woman announced. “Every month we have an auction, and unfortunately, your stuff was auctioned yesterday.”

“Whose stuff was sold yesterday? What do you mean? I called down here, and y'all told me that I had until the twenty-sixth.”

“No, it was the twenty-fifth, ma'am. Maybe you didn't hear him correctly.”

“What do you mean? Get a goddamn manager! Are you kidding? This has to be a mistake.”

“Miss, you must have misunderstood them.”

“I can hear very well. I wrote it down. I need my belongings. Everything I ever owned was in the storage unit. My life . . . What I need you to do is find my stuff.”

A manager came from the back, and he started explaining what had happened. He began to get loud with me and talk down to me, like I didn't matter.

“Ma'am, I'm going to need you to calm down,” he barked.

“Calm down? You calm the fuck down! I'll calm down when you find my goddamn belongings!”

“If payment is not made in one month, we send out a notice. After sixty days we sell the contents for payment. Read your contract,” he grumbled.

“I didn't have to read a contract. I only owed you two months. I had thousands of dollars worth of clothes, furniture and everything else.”

He shook his head. “I'm sorry. There is nothing we can do.” I stood still and began to cry. The young girl behind the counter must have felt sorry for me because she offered me tissue to wipe my face.

 

 

They'd sold my stuff. They'd sold all my children's stuff. They'd sold all my pictures. Everything I had worked for was gone. My whole, entire life was gone. I couldn't understand why or what I was doing wrong. I didn't deserve this bad cloud that was following me. I wasn't going to cry. I couldn't cry. I was out of tears and numb. I drove home, exited my car, collected my mail, and tears started to flow. I opened my bills. There was a lot of junk mail, a cell phone company wanting me to switch to their company, and a postcard from my travel agent. It mentioned a survey about my recent trip to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. They must have made a mistake. I'd never been to Brazil, especially not recently.

I flipped the card over and saw the words
Phillip McKnight and guest
.
Phillip McKnight and guest. Wow!
I was sitting here worrying about how I was going to pay everything. And he was having the time of his life in fucking Brazil—with a guest. I had just had my every possession sold, and
he
was in Brazil. Okay. That was it. I didn't care if I went to jail. I had had enough. I'd been struggling all these months and this bitch had been living the glamorous life. He was about to pay with his life for ruining mine. Just to confirm I wasn't mistaken, I dialed the number on the postcard.

“Hello. This is Mrs. Phillip McKnight. I wanted to answer questions about my trip. When did we take the trip again? We travel so much.” I recited a code on the postcard to the agent.

“I show that you used our agency for a five-night stay in Brazil in October. How were the accommodations? If you could score them on a scale of one through five, with five being the highest.”

“It was excellent, a five,” I answered.

“Thank you, and would you recommend this property again?”

“I sure would.” I hung up before she could ask me another question. I had somewhere to go. I was going to do something to that son of a bitch. Slashing his tires was not enough. Busting his windows . . . I might get cut myself. Set his motherfucking house on fire—that just might work.

 

 

I entered Auto Zone, a woman on a mission. I was looking for one of those red containers with the black spout and handle to put gas into. A young man wearing a red shirt welcomed me into his store.

“Welcome to Auto Zone. How can I help you today?”

“Thank you. I need a gas container.”

“Oh, you ran out of gas? Are you nearby? Do you need any help?”

“I'm good. I have help. Thank you. I got this,” I said, smiling.

He directed me to where I could find them. I had a choice between a small one and a big one. I thought about it for a moment. I needed a big container. I purchased one.

With my gas container in hand, I drove to the gas station and filled it up. I was now going to light Phil's ass up. At least when I violated my stay-away order, it would be well worth it. I had it all planned. I'd pull up in front of his door, wait for him to get out of the truck he probably bought with my money. Then I'd walk up behind him, open the gas can, tap him on his shoulder, wait for him to turn around, and then throw the gas in his face. While he was bent over, screaming for mercy, I'd strike a match and let him burn.

Only it didn't work out that way. Phil came home like he was supposed to, but the sneaking-up-on-him part didn't happen. He must have felt my presence, because he turned around, saw me, and ran in the house. I chased him and banged on the door and screamed, “You want to play with my damn life! I can't feed my kids because of your stupid ass. I'm going to make you pay, bitch. Come back out here, bitch. You went the fuck to Brazil with my money. Really, bitch? You are going to pay you son of a stank dirty bar-stool-sitting bitch. And where the fuck your dirty dick ass dad at? Tell him to come out here so I can light his ass up, too.” I demanded for Phil to come out and face me, but he refused.

He wouldn't come back out but kept screaming from the second-floor window, “Yvette! I'm going to call the police.”

“Fuck the police when they get here! I'm going to tell them what you did to me, and they probably are going to say, ‘Okay. Go ahead. Burn his ass, miss. He deserves it.' Bring your ass out here so I can light your ass up!” I kicked the door a few times, because he wouldn't come out. I was ready to go in. I walked back to the car to get a match. In a few moments I wouldn't have to worry about Phillip McKnight anymore. I had the gas can, but I couldn't find any matches.
Fuck!
I thought. I forgot to bring matches. I saw a man walking down the street.

“Excuse me. Do you have a lighter?” I called.

“Naw, sorry. I don't smoke.”

“Okay.”
Shit,
I thought. I would just have to go to the gas station to get a matchbook.

On my way to the gas station a few blocks away from his house my phone was ringing back to back. Why was he calling me now? Why did he want to talk now? He hadn't had anything to say all these months. I answered so I could tell him that he was going to get it once I got a lighter or a match. It was Dana, not him, this time.

“Yvette, what are you doing? Daddy just called me and said that you are at Phil's house, screaming you're going to set him on fire with a gas container. The police are on their way. If they catch you there with gasoline, you are going to jail forever. I don't know what's going on, Vette. But listen, whatever you are about to do, it is not worth it.”

“It
is
worth it. I don't care about going to jail. Everything I ever owned is gone. My life is gone. This son of a nasty bitch has fucked with me for all these months, and now it is time for him to pay. He is buying trucks, going on vacations, and I'm sitting here figuring out how my kids are going to eat. That money belongs to me. So now it is time for me to get even,” I cried.

“You're not getting even. I'm on my way to you. Please, where do you want to meet, Yvette? I'll meet you anywhere you want, just get out of there. He probably told them what kind of car you driving and if they pull you over you are going to jail.”

“Dana, thank you but I don't care. I have to get him. I have to get his ass. He has to pay, Dana, he has to pay. I got to make him pay.”

“You can't fight crazy, Vette. He is crazy, and you know that. You're fighting him, but you are getting beat up. The only thing you can do is walk away; he is going to get his. What goes around always comes back. Didn't Daddy use to always say that to us. You remember that, Vette?”

“Yeah I remember, but, Dana, my life is fucked up. He took everything from me. I have nothing.”

“Let him have it. You can get everything back.”

“No, I can't. I have to go.”

“If you do anything to him, he wins.”

“I don't care.”

“Yvette, come on, you're talking crazy. You are not getting your money back. Get the hell over it. He is not going to give you your money, so you have to make another way. You've been stuck sitting around the last couple of months, saying how he wronged you. You need to take that same energy and hate for him and put it into you and fixing your life. You're my big sister. I looked up to you. I always wanted to be like you. You were the one to show us, and now you are allowing him to pull you down. He won already, and he will have the last laugh when you are crying behind bars for the rest of your life. He will be taking more trips, and your kids will be out here without a mother.”

I wouldn't respond, but Dana kept talking. “Yvette, I never thought I would see you lay down and die and let him take everything from you. He already got your house, your money, your memories, and now you about to give him your life. You set his house on fire, you're going to jail. Think about Mercedes. Think about Brandon. Who is going to take care of them? Huh? Get rid of that gasoline, and go home.”

I was hearing her, but I wasn't. I had to do something to him and now. I didn't need my baby sister telling me what to do.

“Dana, I have all these bills. I'm about to get kicked out of my apartment. He ruined my life. My life is over anyway! How do I come back from all of this?”

“No, it is not. It's never over. I'll write you a check; I have money. I'll pay your rent and bills. You can pay me back later when you get on your feet. I will help you, but please don't throw your life away.”

“I'm tired, Dana. No one understands how tired I am.”

“I know you're tired, but I promise I'll pay everything. Just get out of there now, before the cops show up.”

Just her telling me she was going to help me take care of bills was enough to bring me to my senses. Nothing was going to get shut off.
Thank you, Lord.
I had to get strong again and turn things around. Instead of getting the matches, I took the gas container and left it near a gas pump, got back in the car, and began praying.
God please help me. Please Lord have mercy on me. I need help, please forgive me for anything and everything I ever did. Please put my life back together.
I didn't know what else to do or say, because I needed help. I really wanted to hurt Phil, but instead I went home.