Free Forgive Me by Stacy Campbell

directions and looked at Lasheera’s name at the top of the paper. As she navigated the I-465 S traffic, her envy intensified when she looked at the address. “How does a former crackhead find a husband and move into such a nice neighborhood? She got Lake, but I couldn’t keep James,” Tawatha said. She didn’t care what anyone said, James still loved her. He just didn’t know it yet. He bided his time with the skinny woman on television until she got out of jail. Of this, Tawatha was sure. “If Lake can overlook ’Sheer’s past, James can overlook the house fire. After all, I did it for him. We can get our daughter back and raise her together.” Tawatha’s anger rose now; she turned up the oldies station and sang along with Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell as they belted out “Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing.” This tune accompanied many Saturday morning cleanings when she lived in California with her mother and twin sister, Teresa. Even now, Tawatha remembered sweeping floors and waxing windows with crumpled newspapers. “Yeah, I’ll show Jameshia how to clean and cook.” Her solo conversation continued until she turned into the entrance of Lasheera’s subdivision. For an extra fee, she received a birds-eye view of Lasheera’s house. She parked three houses down and waited. She knew nothing of Lasheera’s work schedule, but she figured Lasheera worked Monday through Friday. Maybe she’s out shopping this Saturday morning.
    The oldies radio tunes mocked her as “Games People Play” by The Spinners began. She looked at the children playing in their yards, riding bicycles, and selling lemonade at colorful stands.Mothers and fathers clustered in each other’s yards were laughing and swapping stories. She hated their suburban souls with all her heart. “James and I can have this someday. I know we can.” A stray ball rolled in front of her car and Tawatha watched its owner retrieve it. The little boy waved to her and ran back to the game he played with four other boys. She thought of Sims and Grant then. She opened her purse to get her children’s photos when she saw Lasheera’s garage door open. Tawatha snatched her sunglasses off to get a closer look at Lasheera. She looked good from where Tawatha sat. Lasheera and Lake held hands as Lake walked her to a car parked in the driveway. Lasheera looked well. She had filled out in a womanly way; she didn’t have to same body Tawatha had grown accustomed to seeing when she did drugs. Her hair had grown past her shoulders; she wore stylish jeans and a soft, green cashmere sweater with a decorative scarf tied in a triple loop. The September weather didn’t warrant a heavy coat, so the sweater and scarf did the trick for the day. Lake leaned into her face, caressed her light-brown skin, and kissed her lips. He whispered something in her ear, causing them both to laugh and fall into each other’s arms. She playfully pushed him away. They advanced a few steps, and Lake opened Lasheera’s door. Once Lasheera was seated, they kissed again and Lake waved goodbye as Lasheera backed out the driveway. Tawatha scooted down in the seat and waited until Lasheera passed. She set her iPhone alarm for five minutes and sat back up to watch the neighborhood happenings. Lake reappeared from the garage with a weed eater. He trimmed shrubs and bushes. “He is fine!” Tawatha said.
    Lake wore a fitted muscle shirt, jeans, and boots as he manicured the lawn. Tawatha remembered a cute, chunky guy with a boyish face and an easygoing personality. The man doing yard work made Tawatha swoon. Everything about him, from his sexy glide toteak wood skin glistening in the September sun, made her angrier that Lasheera had landed such a great catch. Tawatha remembered how much Aunjanue admired him as her art teacher. Jamilah mentioned he’d gone back to school to obtain his Ph.D.