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ASHA
I had never wanted a dog in the first place so Peaches had to go. I dropped him off at the dog pound one morning on my way to work and promptly erased him from my brain.
Just when Randy finally stopped calling me, I had to call him. I forgot that I lent him my mother’s prized autographed copy of Miles Davis’s Kind Of Blue album.
Saundra would have never forgiven me for losing it.
It was a nerve-popping day at the office because many executives were out and that meant more work for everyone else. My mood was so pissy when I came home that I had to drink a cocktail before calling to track down the album.
When I finally picked up the receiver to dial Randy, I took a deep breath and then forced myself to punch the numbers. With every ring of his phone, my nerves felt tighter and tighter.
“Yes?” A woman’s voice answered softly.
Oh, Mr. Randy sure recovered fast. But then again, he probably had this chick on the side the whole time.
“May I speak to Randy Thompson please?” I said, trying to sound like it was a business call. She paused for a long time. Uh-oh I thought to myself; she’s probably going to start that “my man” shit.
“I’m sorry to tell you this but Randy died yesterday,” she said with increasing emotion.
“Excuse me?” I asked, not believing what I heard.
“Randy was found in his apartment by the landlord.”
My heartbeat had gradually increased in speed and now it was thundering relentlessly in my chest. My mouth was drying up and I knew I had to say something before all the moisture disappeared.
“How . . . What . . . Oh, my God,” I stuttered putting my hand over my mouth.
“His neighbor said Randy had his music blaring and he called the landlord to complain. Randy never played his music that loud and then . . .”
The woman began to cry and I had a lump in my throat the size of an apple. The shock of this news left me temporarily mute and I waited helplessly for her to finish her story.
“He had a heart attack. He was found slumped over on the toilet with liquor bottles everywhere. My poor cousin,” she said, breaking down into a long sob.
The phone felt like a barbell in my hand and I struggled desperately to keep the weight near my ear. The weakness in my upper body quickly spread like a virus to my legs and I knew if I tried to stand I’d buckle like a newborn fawn. I parted my dry lips in an attempt to speak.
“Oh . . . noooo.”
“I can’t believe it either; he had everything going for himself. Are you a friend of his?” she asked, sniveling after every word.
“Yes, I . . . I . . . just can’t . . .” I mumbled.
“I know, dear; it’s a hard time for all of us; but the Lord will pull us through. Let me have your name and number so that I can inform you of the funeral arrangements. By the way, I’m his cousin Dorothy Jenkins. I will be arranging everything because his mother is overcome with grief.”
When she mentioned a funeral, my body froze and I felt a chill run down my spine.
“Nice to meet you ma’am. . . .”
“Ma’am? I’m not that old, sweetie,” she said with a weak chuckle.
I could do nothing but stare into space.
“My name is Saundra Patterson,” I lied, trying to sound calm.
I gave her Saundra’s address and phone number.
“OK dear. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you and . . . I’m sorry . . .” I trailed.
