The Phoenix Chronicles

By Colleen L. Roberts

The Phoenix Chronicles are the stories of four women who walk through the fires of affliction and rise with the hope of a new life. In Rise, Lydia Greene is trapped in an abusive relationship with seemingly no way out. In One Sunday Morning, Christy Duncan learns the real price of friendship through the serious illness of a friend. In Fallen, The Awakening, and Home, Madison Turners all consuming bitterness and anger threatens to ruin her life. In The Transformation of a Black Woman, Toby Maxwell has her color blind eyes opened after the violent death of a friend.

Colleen Roberts is a married mother of three living in Brockton, Massachusetts. She has her Bachelors Degree in preparation for becoming an educator. She also teaches a writing workshop and leads a writers group. Writing is her passion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 23, 2007
• ISBN: 9781469113883

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Copyright © 2007 by Colleen L. Roberts.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Rise

One Sunday Morning

Fallen

The Awakening

Home

The Transformation of a

Black Woman

Rise

It was a late spring day when her mother died. The sunshine poured through her sheer white curtains and her room was sweet with the fragrances of fresh flowers. They were lovingly placed so she could see them when she woke from her long, medicated sleeps. But that day she was alert. The hospice volunteer had propped her up among her fluffy pillows. That was how Lydia Greene found her when she came to visit on a break from the store. She was surprised to see her awake.

Mama?

Mama caressed the space beside her. "Do you remember that poem, the one by Maya Angelou? Still I Rise? I know you know it. Say it with me."

The familiar words forced themselves through Lydia’s throat, coming out in strained whispers. She struggled to finish, while Mama’s voice was triumphant and strong to the end. It was the strongest she had heard it in many weeks.

Hear that? The angels are cheering you on, baby. God made you for something better than this. You’re smart and you’re beautiful, and you’re talented. The life you have now is no life. You’ve got to promise me one thing. Use the money I left for you and get you and Nikki out of that prison. Promise me you will, baby, so I can rest.

Mama, oh Mama, Lydia said.

Mama’s moist hazel-brown eyes were fixed on her. Please.

Yes, yes Mama, I promise.

I love you, Lydia. Thank You, Jesus.

Her breathing softened. Her eyes closed. Her bony fingers loosened their hold and slipped away. Lydia fell upon her still chest, her cries turning into wails when she realized Mama was gone.

Lydia cried out. When she heard the cry she woke up and clamped her mouth, glancing over at her snoring husband. He didn’t stir. She loosed her hand. The last minutes of Mama’s life, even a year later, were coming to her stronger than ever. And in two mornings she would be sitting in a church listening to her being memorialized by the faithful who adored her. They would list all her accomplishments as a musician, teacher, single mom and tireless servant of God. What they wouldn’t talk about was that promise made at her death bed; only Lydia and God knew of it and she wasn’t going to tell. It was a promise she could not keep.

She had chosen this rocky, troublesome path by getting pregnant and marrying Silas Greene. His heart seemed to grow harder and darker over the years, until she could barely grasp what her life was like before him. The truths her mother tried to give her beat against her spirit instead of penetrating it. She lived and walked in darkness daily, taking care of his family’s store and trying to make a home for him and their seventeen year old daughter Nikki. Nikki was the light of her life, the hope she held onto of something better. It was too late for Lydia and her dreams. But Nikki still had a chance. The money Mama had saved was enough to send her baby girl to college.

Lydia gazed up at the ceiling fan as it whirred gently and circulated the hot air over her slender brown body. The sweet memories of her first love nudged her brain, but did not stay, shrouding her dreams once again in darkness. She would never forgive herself for walking away from him. That love would never be hers again.

She cried out in agony. The constant pain around her heart was like a simmering volcano, waiting to erupt. She refused to let it. Above all things she had to keep going and make sure life stayed normal. Eventually the pain would surrender to her determination. But it never quite went away.

Five a.m. Lydia climbed out of bed and walked across the carpeted hallway to the bathroom. She turned on the light. She dreaded what the mirror was going to say to her after a night of crying. Her eyes were red and droopy. They were like small chocolate drops perfectly placed in smooth honey, curved slightly at the corners on either side of her slender nose. Her page boy cut sat straight up in places. Nothing a good brushing and some hair grease couldn’t fix.

Lydia loved the noise of the shower running; it was peaceful and settling. The smooth, cool liquid was delicious on her skin. Only here she could truly relax and not think about the world she had to walk through every day. When she emerged, her skin chilled briefly then began to sweat while she dried off. She covered herself in French vanilla lotion and a light musk spray. She savored the sweet scents, a stark contrast to the sweaty, sour odor of liquor-breath hanging on the walls of her bedroom. She dressed quickly so the smell wouldn’t have time to stick to her clothes.

5:59 a.m. The little green numbers on the coffee machine glared at her until she turned on the kitchen light. Lydia washed the dishes, wiped counter space and looked in the refrigerator for breakfast. She found a loaf of bread, a half gallon of milk, and a half-filled container of orange juice. There was a box of cereal on top of the fridge. Here was breakfast.

Lydia! Silas yelled. Where is my red shirt?

Lydia glanced at the overflowing laundry basket sitting near the basement door. In the wash.

Get it out and bring it here.

Silas was sitting on the bed, his back to her. He had grown wider over sixteen years, a far cry from the muscle-packed young man she married. The muscles had softened and his hair turned into a bushy nest for lint. He snatched the shirt from her.

Lydia backed to the doorway. Why are you up so early? she asked.

I got stuff to do.

Will you come by the store today? I need help putting supplies away.

He sucked his teeth. That’s your problem. I’m going now to pick up the money you’re so scared to deposit at night.

Really? How come?

Will you shut up with the questions? I feel like it, that’s how come. Don’t look for me ’till supper. And get some food in this house.

When the door slammed behind him, loneliness overwhelmed her. She saw herself standing on the edge of a rocky cliff, looking down at the roaring waves below. They seemed to raise higher, their frothy tips opening like hands to catch her. If she took one step, it would all be over. She would finally be able to rest. The only person who kept her away from it was her beloved daughter. Yet the more time went on, the more she wondered if Nikki would be better off without her.

Nikki Greene had no trouble filling in the silence all the way to her high school. She complained and joked about everything from her English class to the school lunches. A quick glance at her coffee-colored offspring brought a smile to Lydia’s lips. She had done her hair in tiny braids placed in neat rows all over her head. Her ears were weighted down with large hoop earrings. Around her neck hung several gold chains, all given to her by her Nana. The only make-up she wore was a touch of sparkled brown lipstick. She was beautiful.

Can you pick me up after school? I don’t feel like walking, Nikki said when they reached the drop-off spot.

No, baby. I’ve got too much to do at the store. You have your house keys, right?

Yeah. What about Daddy?

I don’t know his plans. Go, or you’ll be late. Lydia kissed her cheek lightly. Love you.

Love you.

Greene’s Grocery stood like a sentinel on the corner where two residential streets met. Above it a large apartment looked out over the multi-family houses with dark, dust-filled eyes. Silas and his brothers had been raised there, but it hadn’t been lived in since the elder Greenes moved down South several years ago.

Lydia flipped the light switches. She surveyed the rows of neatly shelved grocery items and a spotless tile floor with short-lived satisfaction. Soon the people traffic would soil and misplace and knock over everything for her to clean and straighten and scrub again tonight. It was like a bottomless black hole she fell into twelve hours a day and barely crawled out of at night.

She was well into the morning routine when her cashier, twenty year old Joao Gomes came strutting into the store.

What up, Mrs. Greene? he said and disappeared into the back office.

Hey, Joao, Lydia said.

He returned tying a blue apron around his waist.

You know what? I need to pick up a few groceries before the supply trucks get here. Will you be okay alone?

You can count on me, Mrs. Green. I got things under control.

Good. Thanks for coming in early. And please call me Lydia.

He smiled. His honey-brown cheeks turned bright red. You’re welcome, Mrs., I mean, Lydia, he said with a nervous laugh.

His boy crush was cute and useful. He did his work better than any of the others she’d hired in the past. She went to the back office. It was then she noticed the safe door was ajar. Yes, Silas did take the money bag. She thought about calling the bank, just to make doubly sure. She picked up the phone to dial when she heard the front bell tinkling. A familiar voice caught her ear. Gentle laughter drew her away from the office.

Tommy Sims, an old childhood friend, stood at the counter talking pleasantly with Joao. He turned his head the moment she saw him. His slow, easy smile encircled her like a warm embrace. With his clean shaven face he looked sixteen again.

Tommy, she said.

He stood erect. His police uniform fit him like his own cocoa brown skin, as if he’d been born with it. His hair was close cut with just a touch of white at the temples. There was no hint of a midlife belly or chin sag.

Lydia, it’s good to see you.

She placed her hand in his. He squeezed gently. For several seconds she lingered while yearnings she hadn’t felt in years rose like fire around her heart, scorching her throat and searing her tongue. Words struggled to be heard, but she fought them back, using every muscle she possessed to do so. The effort produced trembling and two lone tears at the corner of her eyes.

His smile gradually faded. He held her hand tighter.

Lydia slipped her hand from his grip. I have to run an errand. Joao can help you, she said.

I’m fine, Tommy said. May I walk you to your car?

All right. I’ll be back as quick as I can.

Take your time, Mrs. Greene.

The air outside had grown thick and heavy with the smell of rain. Lydia looked up. Gray clouds lumbered across the sky, covering the sun.

Tommy put his hat on. Looks like rain, he said. Maybe it’ll cool things off.

Maybe. Warren Ave. is on your beat?

He looked sheepish. No, he said. I came this way to see you.

Lydia leaned against her car. Me?

How are things going, really?

Do you have a few hours? She tried to laugh.

I want to help you, Lydia.

She turned away from him. Why?

We were friends once. I hope we still are.

Lydia held her bare arms, rubbing them even though it was over eighty degrees. I’m all right, she said.

Are you sure?

Liquid heat swelled behind her eyes. His gentle but keen prodding was overwhelming, leaving her confused and frightened. She could never hide from him, no matter how tight she pulled things together. But she couldn’t allow him in those places anymore, though every cell in her body cried out for his sweet light to fill all the dark corners of her life again. That light no longer belonged to her. She forfeited her right a long time ago.

You better get back to work, she said.

First, will you take this?

She glanced at his outstretched hand. He held a white card between his fingers. If you ever need a friend, call me. Please.

She took it. When he was gone, she read the embossed letters. Officer Thomas