Some Sunday
(Click Cover to order)
By
Margaret Johnson-Hodge
Copyrighted by Margaret Johnson-Hodge. All Rights Reserved.
Chapter One
The house on 112th Avenue in the middle of Hollis, Queens, New York was not particularly grand, new or specific. It mirrored the one before it, the one after it and the dozen across the street. Tight and studious, it held the same three bedrooms, one bath, two-story with a basement; the same shingles that had adorned in the fifties were still going strong in 1994.
To a passer by it was just a speck in the landscape of closely placed homes and century old oaks. But to the woman who dwelled inside of it, it was a refuge, that these days, she had no desire to leave. Life wasn’t fair and it had been especially unfair to her, but it did go on, totting responsibilities behind it, like the one she faced now.
She thought about not going.
She found herself on the verge of just saying no. She didn’t want to get up, get dressed, take the short drive less than two miles away, but life no longer gave her that option.
Every six months like clockwork, Sandy had to be tested for the various strains of HIV. Her dead husband Adrian had made it so. He had died of it and she had to make certain she was free of it, the deadly disease appearing six weeks before their wedding day.
On September 21st, they had said I do. Less than two months later he was dead and buried. Death of a spouse was what any married couple eventually faced, but for Sandy it had come too soon.
At thirty-four Sandy Hutchinson had found he love of her life; at thirty-six that love was gone. There was a cheating in that deliverance, a denial as detrimental as a land mine. It had obliterated everything important to her, all that she held dear. In the aftermath she struggled to make a way for herself; rebuild a new life.
Adrian had been married to Gennifer before he met Sandy. Infidelity on Gennifer’s part had caused them to separate. They got back together and decided to make a fresh start. But when a standard medical test revealed that Gennifer was HIV positive, their separation became final.
Out of that relationship for two years when he met Sandy, Adrian had been testing negative all along. The love between them flourished into plans for a wedding, and by the time he tested positive, Sandy was too deep in love to walk away.
Adrian had elevated her as a woman, made all her desires come true. He had wiped away years of self doubt, placed no one above her. Through the good times and the bad, his love remained steadfast and true. A yin to yang, leaving him was an option she could not use.
People often wondered how Sandy had stayed with him. Her answer was both simple and profound: Adrian had been a dream come true, the one she had wanted forever, and there was no way she could walk away from that.
# # #
The handshake was warm and firm. The crinkle about the brown eyes, kind and open. “You’ve been okay Mrs. Burton?”
“Been okay Doctor.”
He indicated the chair. She took a seat.
“Are you taking those vitamins I suggested?” he asked as he wrapped the pressure cuff around her forearm. Sandy nodded, winced as the band filled, constricting her blood flow.
“Pressure’s good,” Dr. Mathias said, reaching for a tongue depressor. “Say ahh.” He looked into her mouth, made notes on her chart. Continued his exam, probing the glands of her throat with gentleness.
Doctor Mathias retrieved a pair of rubber gloves, tied a piece of white tubing around her forearm and ran an alcohol swab along the crook. “Deep breath,” he warned, sliding the needle in so easy Sandy didn’t even feel a pinch.
“We’ll know in a few days,” he said softly, the concern in his voice, full. But if Doctor Mathias was worried, Sandy was not. God had plans for her. It wasn’t her time to go. If she knew nothing else, she knew this much: she’d be earth bound for a while.
# # #
Get with it.
Sandy was trying but it was hard. She wasn’t up to company but her friends were on their way. She knew what they wanted -- for her to find that new day. But she wasn’t up to the challenge and had little control over her sorrow.
She had known it and owned for so long now, it had become a familiar comfort. Anesthetically balming, she was in need of it. It numbed her, allowing the next second of her life to go on.
Sandy had looked after a dying husband where neither her love nor all the medicine in the world could save him. She had bathed him, cooked for him, cleaned up his vomit and feces and never once stopped loving him. She had watched his once muscular body degenerate to skin and bones and the beautiful butterscotch skin turn black and moldy with sores.
The cloak of sorrow suited her. It was her reprieve and she just wanted to be left alone. She did not want to entertain, pretend she was on her way to recovery, but the ringing doorbell dismantled the option. Her friends had arrived.
With a smile too brittle to be real, Sandy opened her door. Janice was leading the pack, Britney and her baby in the middle, with Martha pulling up the rear. These had been her allies during the hard times, her close friends who had rallied around her in force. They loved her, care about her, but Sandy just wanted them to go away.
“Hey,” Janice said carefully, opening her arms wide.
“Hey yourself,” Sandy answered quickly, returning the hug. Janice was not the brightest of the four women, but there was no doubt she was the most beautiful. A pretty shade of brown, soft short glossy curls and legs to die for, Janice won the beauty contest hands down.
But beauty did not equate wisdom and Sandy often thought Janice had gotten too much of one and not enough of another. When Janice loved, she loved hard, deep and often for the wrong reason. It wasn’t until she got together with Sandy’s brother Clifford did she reach a true balance of giving love and receiving it.
The two of them had been best friends since high school, and the familiarity often breed contempt. A time had come where their friendship had been nearly done in over a man that Janice had chose but was no good for her. A major rift, it had been healed through Martha’s intervention. Water under the bridge now, the two had women passed over it and were going strong.
Janice headed for the living room, Britney coming up behind her. Voted the one less likely to find that happy ever after, Britney had surprised everyone and done just that. What had once been a lonely, single, timid, overweight, financially-challenged woman, had blossomed into a stay at home mom with a husband who worshipped her and a five bedroom, two bath home to prove it.
She had had a baby a few months ago, completing the picture. It was the baby that drew Sandy’s attention as she reached out and took up Bareace, juggling her a few times to test the baby’s weight. “My goodness Bareace, what have you been eating.” Her eyes found Britney. “What you been feeding this child?”
“She doesn’t eat that much, believe it or not. Probably genetics. You know me and Maurice ain’t little.” It was a statement that was true, one Sandy saw for herself as Britney made her way into the living room. Carmel brown, with a mane of thick long hair, before Sandy was the wider than wide buttocks and the round robust hips, trademarks Britney had always owned.
“How’s it going Sandy?” Martha asked, pulling the door closed behind her. The bright red wood jacket set off Martha’s rich mocha hue, giving additional sophistication to her short pixie hair tyle and inquisitive dark eyes. The tallest of the group, Martha looked fashion perfect in black denim jeans and the red turtleneck that matched shade for shade the sanguine in her jacket. As an Assistant District Attorney, wardrobe was an important part of Martha’s life.
“Red,” Sandy said, touching the edge of Martha’s sleeve.
“Cloudy day,” Martha offered, “Figured I brighten things up.”
They were all different women, bringing something special to the well of friendship. Martha was the wisest, Janice, the cutest, Britney the friendliest and Sandy, in that moment, the most sorrowed. “I bought strawberry shortcake,” she called out, making her way towards her living room. “And Chinese food. Figured we could use something different.”
No one disagreed.
If losing a husband had been hard, witnessing a good friends’ sorrow was just as brutal. It had taken months just to get Sandy to agree to the get together. During that time each woman bore a timbre of her pain, fitting it squarely upon their shoulders.
They were all looking forward to different times, better times, the defining moment that said Sandy would heal. And as always they carried the hope that today would bring forth that revelation.