What's His Is Mine (6 page)

I
emptied out my studio apartment. When I first arrived, all I had were the clothes on my back and the first two weeks' rent. Over time, I was able to make a room into a home. I had a small beige velourish sofa with dark brown wooden arms, a twenty-seven-inch television, a futon bed, and a cheap DVD player. My place looked full, but it only took one big trash bag to empty it out. I gave all my belongings to the lady downstairs, Justine. She was very thankful and said she would give the clothes to her granddaughter who lives over on 7 Mile. Leaving Detroit was going to be bittersweet. It had been the loneliest twelve months of my life. I wasn't sure what was going to happen next, but I was ready to go home. I looked around the room one last time and flicked the lights off and began walking to the bus stop.

I took the bus downtown to the train station. As I exited the bus, my heart began to beat rapidly. I was beginning to feel like I couldn't breathe, and my chest was becoming tight. I was very nervous, but I still walked toward the ticket window in the train station.

“One way to Philadelphia,” I said to the woman behind the glass window. She typed my destination into her computer.

“Okay, sweetie, that will be one hundred and twenty-four dollars.” I pulled out the money and handed it to her. She counted the money and swiped a marker across the money to make sure it was real. Then the cashier handed me a napkin and said, “Honey, why did you run here? It's okay—the train doesn't leave for another half hour.” I thanked her for the napkins. I walked to the restroom and saw beads of perspiration covering my entire face. I wet a few paper towels and wiped my face. I looked into the mirror and tried to stop all the crazy thoughts I was having. I knew I was about to do the right thing, but it didn't make it any easier. Just not knowing what was about to happen next frightened me. But on the other hand, I couldn't continue to live my life in fear and in limbo. I still wasn't sure exactly how I was going to pull everything off when I got back home, but I did know I was tired of running.

The train pulled into the station, and I boarded. I took a seat in the middle of the train by the window, and took several deep breaths. It was going to be a long ride home, but I couldn't wait to see my children and my baby. I wasn't sure if I was going to try to see my family first, or go straight to the police to turn myself in.

Seventeen hours later I arrived in Philly at the 30th Street Station. I was very tired and couldn't believe I was home. Everything was busy—people walking to and from trains, rushing home from work. During the course of the ride, I decided I wasn't going to call anyone—I was just going to turn myself in. I didn't want to change my mind or get scared again. I was home, and needed to get the unpleasant out of the way first. I walked outside the train station and jumped into a Yellow Cab. The cab took me to the Roundhouse, the central police station on 8th and Race Streets.

God, I am so sorry. I didn't mean it. Please have mercy on me,
I prayed as I walked into the police station. There were a few people seated in the waiting area. I walked past them. I was shaking and full of anxiety as I approached the bulletproof window. I saw a female officer in her early thirties with red hair, wearing brown reading glasses and snug navy blue uniform pants and a light blue, creased shirt. She was sitting at a desk, typing something. I knocked on the window and she got up from her desk and walked over to the window. I was still going over what I was going to say in my head.
My name is Tanisha, and I murdered a woman last year in FDR Park. I'm here to turn myself in.
Or maybe I'll say,
I'm wanted and I'm here to turn myself in.
I didn't know what to say, so when the woman came up to the window and said, “What can I do for you?” I said in almost a whisper, “I need to turn myself in.”

She leaned her ear over to the window and said, “I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. What did you say?”

I didn't want to scream, but I needed her to hear me, so I spoke up a little louder and clearer. “I need to turn myself in.”

She looked at me, alarmed, but then all she said was, “Okay, have a seat. Someone will be out to speak with you.”

Someone will be out to speak with you,
I thought. I just told her I was there to turn myself in and all she could say was have a seat. Wasn't she supposed to march out with the handcuffs and throw me in jail immediately? I stood dumbfounded for a few seconds. I didn't want to have a seat, because I'd had too many months and weeks of excitement and frustration and not knowing inside of me. I had to tell what happened. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe I wasn't supposed to turn myself in—maybe I was supposed to just keep on going. I reluctantly took a seat as my hands and legs began to shake nervously. Instantly, I thought about running again. I looked at the door, then back at the officer. I looked around the room. I looked back at the window. The officer had sat back down. Was she crazy? What was she doing, just sitting? I thought about going back up to the window again. If she didn't call me in five minutes, I was going to leave. It was 6:14. She had until 6:19. I took a deep breath and waited. One minute, two minutes, and then at 6:19, nothing. I looked up at the window again and the woman wasn't even at her desk. This overwhelming feeling took over my body and I couldn't wait anymore. I got up out of my seat and briskly walked out of the police station door. There were a few officers outside smoking cigarettes. They didn't pay me any attention as I hurried past them. I walked down the block and the first cab I saw, I flagged down. The cab stopped and the driver asked in a thick African accent, “Where you going to, miss?” I wasn't sure. I didn't know what to tell him. We got a few blocks away from the station and I began sweating again and tears streamed down my face. I started wheezing and my chest was becoming tight again.

“Do you need to go to the hospital, ma'am?”

“No,” I said as I attempted to calm myself down.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please just drive. Go straight,” I yelled.

“I can't just drive straight, I need to know where we are going,” he said rudely. I guess I was going home, and from there I could figure something out.

 

 

I had the cab drop me off at the corner of my block. My tree-lined block of row houses appeared to be the same. I could see my house from the corner. It seemed so big. I remembered when it looked and felt so small, and I had felt trapped. Back then, I couldn't wait to get out. Now I would do anything to go back in.

I
was going to Los Angeles, and now I was so happy about it. I told my job that I was quitting. They were a little upset that I wasn't giving much notice, but Lenora understood. I'd never been on a plane. Aunt Tina said the flight was about five hours. I was packing my clothes. So far I had almost two suitcases filled. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to decide what I could live without because I couldn't take everything. The weather is supposed to be very nice all year round, but I heard it gets cold at night. So I did want to pack some sweaters and long pants. As I packed Aunt Tina kept calling, making sure I was really going. She said she was calling around trying to get the best deal on my ticket since it was last minute. I thought Lisa would be upset that I was leaving, but she was like,
Go. If you don't go, I'm going to be so mad at you.
I felt a little relieved. I told my nephews I was going to Hollywood and they asked if I was going to be a star. They said they would miss me, but once they realized they could now have their own rooms they were over it.

My phone began ringing. I heard it but couldn't find it. I searched around for it on my bed. I found it. It was my Aunt Tina.

“I'm packing.”

“Good. Um. Okay, I had a little issue with getting you a plane ticket. Since it is short notice, the tickets were just way too high. The cheapest I found was like twelve hundred, and that was with two layovers. So you're still going, but it's going to be on the bus.”

“The bus?” I had never been to California, but I knew it would take forever to get there on the bus. “How many hours is that like—thirty hours?”

“No, two days.”

“Two days.”
Was she crazy? Did she really think I was going to ride the bus for two days?

“You will make a few stops and you will probably be asleep, anyway, and you get to see the whole country.” I didn't want to see the entire country, but she had already bought the ticket and I was leaving the next day.

 

 

Lisa and Aunt Darla dropped me off at the Greyhound station downtown. There were long lines of people and the buses' engines were buzzing. I saw my bus, 1651 to St. Louis, MO. From there I would transfer to my next bus. Lisa was tearing up a little and told me to be safe and call her when I got there. I thanked my Aunt Darla and gave Lisa a hug.

I handed the driver my ticket and he tore off a piece and handed it back and asked me how many bags I had. I told him three, and he helped me place them in the storage compartment under the bus. I walked to the back of the bus and sat in an empty seat in the middle. I was still tired, so I turned and placed my jacket over my head and nodded off.

When I awoke, the bus was bumping down the road. It was pitch-black outside the window. I couldn't see anything but car headlights and dark traces of trees. Someone near me had their headset blasting, because I faintly heard a Lil Wayne song. I checked the time—it was almost 1 a.m. I had only been asleep for four hours, but I had to go to the restroom. The woman sitting next to me was doing a crossword puzzle. I excused myself and walked to the bathroom. There was someone already in there and that gave my legs time to stretch.

The man who came out of the bathroom said, “You might not want to go in there.” I knew what that meant, but I had to go, so I was going to have to take my chances.

As soon as I entered the tiny stall I smelled a strong mixture of urine and something that was dead, but I had to go really bad, so I covered my mouth and blocked out the smell. It was so disgusting I thought I would gag. I walked back to my seat and placed my jacket back over my head. I already couldn't wait for the bus ride to be over.

 

 

I was halfway to my destination. Lisa had texted me, to check on me. I texted her and said I was good so far. I was stuck. I was in the middle of nowhere. I couldn't turn around now, but it would have taken the same amount of time to get back home. I had only made it to Topeka, Kansas, and we were still a day away from Los Angeles. This bus was so slow. I had passed through every small town in the United States. I thought if I started walking I could probably get there faster. I was so tired of seeing trees and the highway. I swore we were just riding around the same town in circles, because every town had a Wal-Mart and a bunch of McDonald's. The other thing I was tired of seeing was crazy people. I had realized crazy people are not allowed on planes, so they catch the bus. A crazy man took down his pants and peed at the last stop. Then a woman was arguing with her children and smacking them up. The bus driver asked her to stop and she didn't, so he called the police and pulled the bus to the side of the road and they escorted her and her kids off.

 

 

I tried going to sleep, read, and just look out the window. None of it was working, because I was not tired. I was restless. I wanted off this stupid bus. It seemed like we'd been riding through Colorado and Utah forever. And that didn't mean anything, because the man sitting in front of me said as soon as we got to California we still had another six hours. Oh, my God! The only thing that was keeping me from going crazy was I kept telling myself when I woke up I was going to be in Hollywood. This bus had to have stopped at least eighty times and I transferred onto two buses. It was like riding a never ending local bus. I wanted to go home, but at this point I was closer to California than I was to home.

 

 

We were an hour away. I couldn't take it any longer. My legs were aching. I felt so tired, but I couldn't sleep. I felt claustrophobic and I wanted to scream,
Get me off this damn bus now!
We had reached Los Angeles but now we were stuck in traffic on the freeway.

We finally pulled into the station and my Aunt Tina was wrong—it did not take two days. It took two days and sixteen hours. I wanted to break a window to get off the bus.
Let me off,
I wanted to scream to the people who were taking a long time to get off.
Get the hell off the bus!
I thought. When I got off the sun was shining brightly in my eyes and I felt a warm breeze tap my skin. I wanted to scream,
I made it!
That was the longest journey of my life. I felt sick and was in need of a shower, and I felt like I smelled.

I called my aunt and told her I was here. She said to come around to the other side of the bus terminal. I dragged my bags and walked toward the exit. I stood by the door and was ready to call her again, but then I spotted her.

“Auntie Vicky,” I shouted.

“Hey, little girl, you look just like your mother with all that long hair. You're so pretty. I knew you were going to grow into your nose,” she said as she gave me a hug.

“Thank you.”

She turned to the older, portly white man standing behind her and said, “This is my boyfriend, Martin.” We both said hello and he smiled and took my bags. He had thinning blond hair, very dark tanned skin, and dark shades. He was a nice-looking older man.

“How was your journey?” she said as we walked out of the terminal.

“I'm never catching the bus across the country again. It was awful.”

“I can imagine, but you made it here and that's all that matters.”

We walked over to a black Mercedes-Benz convertible. I don't know what model it was, but it was very nice. He placed my bags in the trunk, opened our doors, and we headed to their home in North Hollywood.

On the way to their condo all I saw were these palm trees. I inhaled the air. It was different, and everyone just looked joyful and lively. I looked around in amazement because everything was so pretty.

We pulled up to my aunt's apartment complex, which was like a mini resort. There was a large pool and a tennis court. The condo had a big living room, two bathrooms, two oversized bedrooms, and one small room.

“This is your room.” There was enough room for a single bed and tall dresser. There were yellow and white sheets and yellow curtains. It wasn't as fabulous as the rest of the house, but I was very thankful. I began unpacking and getting situated. Jade came in and squealed.

“Cousin, you made it!” She hugged me. “You are going to love LA. Hurry up and finish getting dressed so I can show you around the city.”

“Okay, can you show me the Hollywood sign?”

“Yeah, I'm going to take you everywhere.”

Jade was about five feet tall and very thin. She was cute and had her hair smoothed back in a ponytail with sunglasses on her head. She was wearing a green baby doll dress and cute multicolored sunflower flip-flops.

 

 

I saw the Hollywood sign and it was just like on television. It sat so beautifully on top of a hill in the distance. I took a bunch of pictures. We went to Rodeo Drive. There was every big-name designer store you could imagine. Some of the stores even had big security men at the door to protect the merchandise.

Then we walked around the corner to a restaurant named Mr. Chow. Jade said we might see someone famous.

There were all these stores. It was just amazing. I just peeked into the stores from the outside because I knew I couldn't afford anything inside, but it didn't cost anything to look. There were all these paparazzi lined up.

“Those men with the cameras—are they paparazzi?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“So, they are trying to catch celebrities shopping, like on television?”

“Yes.”

“This is too funny. Wait until I call home and tell Lisa I saw real paparazzi.”

From Rodeo Drive we drove to the Walk of Fame on Hollywood Boulevard. It was in front of this Chinese theatre. There were so many handprints and signatures. I saw Eddie Murphy's handprints. I placed my hands in them and had Jade take my picture. There were street performers dancing and people dressed up like superheroes. I took a picture with a man dressed as the Terminator. There was so much going on. My nephews would love this place. I knew I had to get a job and save my money and soon. As soon as I had enough saved, I was going to fly the boys out here. I wanted them to see all this.

We ended the day at Roscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles. Jade's boyfriend, Theo, met us there. As soon as she introduced us, I didn't like him. I didn't like the way he looked, talked, or acted. I never saw a man be so fake. His jeans were too skinny and they made me uncomfortable. She said his father was a writer on a few shows and his mother was an actress.

I ordered the specialty chicken and waffles. It was so good. I was hungry and wanted a second serving, but Jade was still working on her first wing and only taking sips of her Diet Coke and water. Her boyfriend left half of his burger and still had French fries left on his plate. So I just asked for another glass of water to fill up my stomach and so I wouldn't seem greedy.

 

 

I awoke startled. I sat up, scared. I looked around the room. It took me a moment to realize where I was. I think I was still having flashbacks of that damn bus. I stood up, stretched, and then looked at my cell phone. It was 7:10, which meant it was 10:10 back home. I was so excited, I had never even bothered to text or call Lisa and Aunt Tina and my cell phone had died. I plugged it up and turned it on and a bunch of text messages came through. I listened to my messages first. My nephews had left several messages and Lisa left two, just telling me to call her to let her know I was fine. I couldn't believe everything I had crammed in the last thirty-six hours. I was really in LA. I had really left Philly. I dialed Lisa. She sounded happy to hear from me.

“How is it? How was the trip?” she asked excitedly.

“Lisa, I'm never getting on another bus again in my life.”

“It couldn't have been that bad.”

“It was. But so far, California is so nice. I'm looking out the bedroom window—it is so beautiful and peaceful. I just see trees and sunshine. I think I'm going to like it here. Last night we drove to Hollywood, like where the stars' handprints are. Where are the boys?”

“At school. I'm at work. The temp agency called me.”

“You are? That's good, Lisa. You sound good.”

“I feel real good.”

“That's what's up. Um, have the boys call me.”

“I will.” Lisa was doing well and that put my mind at ease.

The apartment was so quiet. So I walked into the living room to see where everyone was. I saw Jade was out and Aunt Vicky's bedroom was empty. I walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator and there was nothing in there that wasn't healthy. Even their eggs were egg whites. All the food was fat free or was free of salt or sugar. I don't think Aunt Vicky is a vegetarian and Jade just doesn't really eat. I saw a strawberry and banana yogurt in the back of the fridge, so I ate that. I would have to find a market and go and pick me up some regular food.

They came in an hour later, dressed in black tights, running sneakers, and fitted baby T-shirts. They both looked like fitness instructors.

“Where were y'all?” I asked.

“At our yoga class. We started to wake you, but you were knocked out. Maybe tomorrow you can go out with us.”

“Maybe,” I said, but I knew there was no way in hell I was getting up before the sun to go and work out.

“So what's the plan for today?” Aunt Vicky asked.

“I have to work, Mom, and then I'm going to dinner with Theo.”

“I should go to work with you and look for a job,” I said, getting up from the table.

“Girl, you just got here. Relax. You'll have plenty of time to look for a job. Let me take a shower and then I'll make breakfast.”