Blonde Faith

4

I was jarred out of a deep sleep by something — a sound. It was very late. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the little yellow dog glaring at me from between the drapes that covered the front window. I wasn’t quite sure that the phone had rung. But then it jangled again. There was an extension in my bedroom, and I was worried about disturbing the baby, so I answered quickly, thinking that it was either Christmas or Mouse calling in from some hazardous position in the street.

“Yeah?” I said in a husky tone.

“Easy?”

The room disappeared for a moment. I was floating or falling into a dark night.

“Bonnie?”

“I’m sorry it’s so late,” she said in that sweet accent. “I could call you tomorrow. . . . Easy?”

“Yeah. Hey, babe. It’s been a long time.”

“A year, almost.”

“It’s great to hear you, your voice,” I said. “How are you?”

“Fine.” Her tone was reserved. But why not? I thought. She was taking a big chance calling me. The last time we spoke, I had kicked her out of my house.

“I was just sittin’ here in front of the TV,” I said. “Jesus and Benita sleepin’ in my bed. Easter Dawn is here. You don’t know her, but she’s the daughter of a friend’a mine.”

Bonnie didn’t reply to all that. I remember thinking that Feather had probably told Bonnie about Easter. She and Christmas had been by a few times. The ex-soldier thought that his little girl needed to have friends, and because he homeschooled her he was worried about her being too influenced by his being a man.

“It’s funny that you should call,” I said in the voice and demeanor of a man alien to me. “I’ve been thinking about you. Not all the time, I mean, but thinking about what happened . . .”

“I’m going to be married to Joguye in September,” she said.

My spine felt like a xylophone being played by a dissonant bebop master. I actually stood up and gasped as the discordant vibrations ripped through me. The spasms came on suddenly, like a downpour or an explosion, but Bonnie was still talking as if the world had not come to an end.

“. . . I wanted to tell you,” she said, “because Jesus and Feather will be part of the wedding and I . . .”

Was that what I had seen in Juice’s eyes? Did he know that Bonnie planned this, this betrayal? Betrayal? What betrayal? I had sent her away. It wasn’t her fault.

“I waited for you to call. . . .”

I should have called. I knew that I should. I knew that I would, one day. But not soon enough.

“Easy?” she said.

I opened my mouth, trying to answer her. The tremors subsided and I eased back onto the sofa.

“Easy?”

I cradled the phone, hanging up on a life that might have been, if I had only picked up a telephone and spoken my heart.