Read Online Lundyn Bridges by Patrice Johnson - Free Book Online Page B

brown curly hair and hazel eyes. I blamed it on genes and swore to James that my great-great grandmother was German, and that’s why Antonio was so light. Every time James commented that Antonio looked like Tommy, I would laugh it off by saying 'we’re all related'.”
    â€œWhere is James? Are you still married?”
    Francine laughed and looked me in the eye. “No, I’m sure he’s found a way to get divorced after all these years. Word on the street was that he paid for Antonio’s funeral before leaving Pittsburgh. Last I heard he was living somewhere in Texas.”
    While the door was open I seized the opportunity to find out more about Francine’s children. She admitted wanting to see her other son and daughter andher grandchildren. The unpredictability of the reunion made her apprehensive. She anticipated her daughter seizing the opportunity to remind her of her absence.
    â€œMy daughter always hated me,” Francine lamented, making sure we maintained eye contact. “My sister said we were just alike, that’s why we couldn’t get along.”
    â€œWere you?”
    â€œWere we what?” Francine asked, realizing her vulnerability.
    â€œWere you and your daughter alike?”
    â€œNo!” She shook her head and spoke with contempt. “I gave her everything. She always had the best clothes, sneakers to match her outfits, designer everything. I started her going to the shop to get her hair done when she was six. She was always the best-dressed kid in her class, but the selfish witch wanted more and more. And if I ever had to tell her no, or wait, she would snap out like I never gave her nothing.”
    â€œWhy did you give her so much?” I inquired, consciously pushing Francine’s vulnerability limit. “Did you buy her the things you wanted when you were a little girl?”
    Francine’s demeanor became indignant. “My daughter never wore no hand me downs or nothing somebody in Fox Chapel threw away. She had the best.”
    â€œIs that what you wanted when you were a little girl?” I repeated.
    â€œI wanted to be special, and I wanted long hair; I wanted to be able to sing like Maxine. I wanted to wear new dresses.” Francine’s voice was elevated and whiny; she appeared almost childlike as she hugged the chairpillow. “Yes, I gave her everything I always wanted, and she still didn’t love me.”
    This impromptu session lasted almost two hours, and I considered it to be a monumental feat. Francine was finally opening up, but I was careful not to be too confident. Weeks could pass before Francine decided to share more of her history. Compassion knotted in my stomach because I knew this was extremely difficult and challenging. For the first time in her life, I surmised Francine was confronting her heart.
    When I realized it was almost six o’clock, I called Kiarra to make sure she was at my apartment and to let her know I was on my way home. I gathered my incomplete group notes and reluctantly packed them to finish at home. This situation with Kiarra and Xavier was over my head, but I was determined to keep my best friend from being a statistic.
    Kiarra was sitting in the dining room staring out the window when I got home. I could tell she had been in that chair since she arrived. Her bag was on the floor in front of the couch and nothing else in the apartment had been moved. My kitchen window faced the front of the building, and I assumed she was watching to make sure Xavier wasn’t coming after her. I went over and hugged her.
    â€œHow can I help?” I pulled a chair up next to her. “Tell me what to do.”
    â€œI don’t know.” Tears began to fall on top of the salt tracks that already stained her flawless skin. “I don’t know what to do.”
    â€œWhat happened? Why would Xavier hit you?”
    â€œHe showed up at my apartment on Saturday morning, and I didn’t