Dead to Her(59)

“Do you think someone can be cursed?” Keisha’s eyes darted around the kitchen as Marcie put a cup of coffee beside her on the breakfast table. “Properly cursed? Like black magic cursed?” Coffee was probably the last thing Keisha needed, Marcie thought as the young woman pulled her knees up under her chin and tugged at a loose strand of hair, a nervous tic. “There was a boy once,” Keisha continued, softly muttering. “And then there wasn’t. I should never have seen the boy. Maybe he was never there. The next time I saw him he was gone.”

“Is this that ghost business again?” Marcie said. “I told you Keisha, there are no ghosts.”

“Cursed KeKe, that’s what my auntie called me. They said I was crazy. They said he’d never been there. A ghost boy. But I couldn’t unsee him.”

“You’re scaring me Keisha,” Marcie said, and it was true.

“I scare me,” Keisha whispered back, holding her hand. “You can’t run from a curse. It always finds you, that’s what Auntie Ayo says. It’s found me and I don’t know what to do.” She leaned forward. “I’m wicked, Marcie. In my blood.”

“Okay, enough of this.” Marcie took both of Keisha’s hands and hauled her to her feet. “There’s no such thing as curses, and I know what wicked is, and you’re not it. We do, though, need to get you straightened out. Come on. Upstairs. I think there’s some Xanax somewhere Jason uses when he has to fly. You can have that.”

“Is it as good as Valium?”

“It’ll be better than going cold turkey like this.” Keisha’s hand was corpse-cold in hers. “I don’t know what William was thinking.”

“He hates me.”

“No he doesn’t. He loves you.” Love might be way too strong a word for whatever William felt toward his second wife, Marcie thought as she gave Keisha a tablet to dry swallow and started the shower, but he did own her.

“I could just tell him. About us.” Keisha looked at her, hopeful. “Pull the Band-Aid off fast or whatever. I bet he’d still give me some money just to take my scandal and disappear. It would probably be enough to have a nice life. Away from all this.”

Marcie stared at her. “I like all this,” she said, colder. Fear would always suffocate love or lust and Marcie was filled with dread that Keisha was going to open her big junkie mouth and wreck everything just as she was on the cusp of being respected, of having some social power of her own. “I love my husband. I told you. And there’s nothing to tell. I’d deny it all.”

“Yeah, ’cause Jason’s such a catch.”

“He may not be perfect but he’s ambitious. And safe.”

“Nothing’s safe, Marcie.” Keisha sounded exhausted.

“Wealth buys safety. You need to learn that. I won’t be poor again, Keisha, not even for you, and if you’re not careful you’ll end up back in the gutter and it’ll be a lot harder to climb out a second time. Get in the shower. I’ll make you some eggs. You’ll feel better when the Xanax kicks in.”

“Don’t you love me at all?” Keisha asked, peeling off her T-shirt. Marcie stared at her, throat already drying at the sight of that smooth bare skin. What was it she felt? Lust? Definitely. Obsession, maybe. Was it love? What was love anyway? A passing madness? Not worth wrecking her future for. And how could she explain the irrational, nauseating fear she’d felt in the garage on Sunday? Jason was hiding secrets from her, but that didn’t justify her secrets from him. That whole situation was a reminder of her old life—her secrets—that she needed to pour icy water over all her newfound childish wildness.

“You know I care about you,” she answered from the doorway. “But we have to stop. I mean it. Especially while you’re like this. I’ll be your friend, Keisha, but from now on, that’s it.”

“I don’t believe you,” Keisha said. “You love me. I know you do. I see the way you look at me.”

“You sound like a cliché.”

By the time she got downstairs Marcie’s whole body was trembling. Maybe she did love Keisha a little, but she was on the brink of a breakdown. How could Marcie explain that love wasn’t enough? Life wasn’t the movies. Love never lasted forever.





37.

Keisha had left without eating any food and without so much as a goodbye, letting herself out before Marcie could even get to the door, but she’d taken the packet of Xanax, which was better than nothing. But when Keisha hadn’t answered any of her texts by three in the afternoon, Marcie was worried. She’d tried calling and it had rung out, unanswered. What if she had done something stupid? Gone and got blind drunk somewhere downtown? Or even hurt herself? She wasn’t thinking straight, so strung out with withdrawal, and anything could have happened.

What had all that crazy talk been about? Curses and boys who weren’t there? Had Keisha had a baby once? Was that it? And it had been given away or something? Maybe an abortion—that could screw some people over. But it could be anything. Who knew what was really going on inside that pretty, unhinged head?

Still, she thought as she poured herself a large gin and tonic, her concern was turning into annoyance. How hard would it be to answer a text or call? She’d given her the Xanax, hadn’t she? She may have been hard on Keisha’s emotions, but she’d helped her.