Like a Sister(88)

“Saw the police were over. Another break-in?” she said as she examined her favorite rosebush.

“Not this time.”

“Oh. Thought maybe you called them about the van.”

I started. “The white one?”

She finally looked up. “You saw it too?”

“Blond guy inside?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes it’s an Asian guy.”

Shitnuts. “You’ve seen it recently?”

Ms. Paterson shook her head. “Now they use that Camry over there.”

I whirled around. It was parked a few doors down but with a perfect view of my front door. The windows were all pitch-black, which meant there was no way I could see who was watching me. My heart double-Dutched inside my chest.

“No one’s in there,” Ms. Paterson said. “They leave the car. Come and go as they please. I called the police. They said it’s probably a neighbor who doesn’t want to lose his spot.”

Her eye roll told me what she thought about that. For once I agreed with her.

“Usually the van comes at six a.m. Drops someone off. They sit for a few hours. Lord knows how they pee. Told the police that too.”

I was tempted to go over. Except I didn’t know what I’d find. Or maybe I was just scared she was wrong. That someone was, in fact, inside. So I stayed put. “Can you let me know if you see someone come back before tomorrow?” I said.

“I would if you answered your phone.” She’d spent all last winter bugging me about a tree so I still sent her calls to voice mail.

I promised I would, then turned to go inside. But once again I hesitated at the front door. I felt exposed. I felt scared. But I also felt determined. Being Black, especially a woman, I was used to being underestimated. The microaggressions massive in scope, like when my white male boss was surprised I’d gotten into Columbia. Or the classmate, who could’ve been his son, when he was shocked I’d done better on the economics exam. Or when these two men thought they could follow me for days and I wouldn’t find out. Wouldn’t do something about it.

I would, though.

But first I needed to get rid of Aunt E.

*



When I was twenty, I got an internship in Midtown. My mom and I hadn’t been getting along, so I’d asked Gram if I could stay during the summer. She probably had the spare bedroom ready before we even got off the phone. It was bliss. They fed me. They loved me. They didn’t bug me when I stayed out late, though I know they waited up.

But one weekend in August, Aunt E came into my room early in the morning. She’d sat on the edge of the bed, affectionately rubbing the mound that was my left leg as she spoke. “Lena, we need you to go to your mother’s house. Just for the weekend.”

I’d been half awake, but those words were as good as any shot of espresso. “Did I do something?”

“Of course not. It’s just temporary.”

“Why?”

But she was shaking her head. “Just trust me.”

And I did. Gram dropped me off later that afternoon and was back Monday morning before 9 a.m. They never said what had happened, and though I’d thought about it a few times in the past eight years, I had never, ever asked.

“It won’t be long. A week max.”

“I’m not going to Mel’s.” Aunt E was in her usual place at the kitchen table, removing the skin from potatoes with a peeler she’d owned for decades.

I nodded. Not sure I wanted her at Mel’s myself. I was in my usual spot too. Erin was still here but smart enough to be hiding in Aunt E’s spare bedroom. “If you don’t want to go to Mel’s, you can go see your sister,” I said.

“I hate my sister.” She was on Long Island, and they got along about as well as Desiree and I these past two years.

“Or do one of those staycations at the shore.”

“I hate water.”

She was acting like a child.

“No one says you have to go in it.”

“What is going on, Lena?”

I didn’t respond.

“This has to do with Desiree, doesn’t it?” she said. “I need to stay here. With you.”

I placed my hand over hers, and she stopped peeling. “Just trust me.”

Her face changed just enough, I knew she remembered that conversation too. After a moment, she nodded. “I’ll call my sister.”

Erin helped me get Aunt E’s luggage from the basement, and I used the opportunity to update her on what Ms. Paterson had said. After all three of us got Aunt E packed, I requested an Uber. Erin eyed the Camry as Aunt E disappeared down the street. “They have to come back,” Erin said.

“Apparently every morning by six a.m.”

“Good. We’ll follow them tomorrow.”

“With? We don’t have a car.” I actually wished she’d gotten her Jaguar back.

“How quickly can you get one?”

The answer was an hour. Mr. Buck came through with his Cadillac.

I didn’t sleep much that night, alternating between staring at my bedroom ceiling and staring out my front window at the Camry. So when my phone alarm went off at 5 a.m., I was ready.

Erin was awake, hoodied, and dressed in enough black to make me think she’d done this before. Her confidence was back in spades. I wasn’t sure if this was Erin or Karma. Whoever it was, she looked at me and smiled. “I made coffee.”