The Lying Tree

By L. L. King

Tameka Pettis is living a charmed life. She has a loving husband, two healthy kids with another soon on the way, a beautiful home, and a flourishing small business. Other than the occasional bad dream, all in her world seems perfect. Tameka and her family embark upon what seems to be a normal vacation. However, before they make it to their destination, a figure from her past emerges and the secret on which her entire foundation has been built is revealed.
This is a story of how ordinary people adjust, adapt, and evolve to make a life-altering lie fit into their everyday reality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469170350

L. L. King

L.L. King is the grandson of the legendary King of the Blues B.B. King. He has a deep love for writing, photography, electrical engineering, teaching, and simply being a family man. He grew up in Arkansas but currently resides in the Atlanta, GA area. L. L. King can be contacted about his book at [e-mail]. Any feedback on his debut novel will be greatly appreciated.

Book preview

PART 1

Hypothetically

Hypothetically of course.

Are there some things better left unsaid?

Or would you wanna know instead?

Hypothetically of course.

—Lyfe Jennings

CHAPTER 1

It’s A Family Affair

Tameka Pettis awoke with a start. It was 5:13 a.m.—forty-seven minutes before the setting of the alarm clock. She’d just had that dream again—the same dream which had infrequently visited her sleep for the past ten years of her life. Lately, she’d begun having the dream more often. But for the first time in Tameka’s life, it had occurred on consecutive nights. It frightened her, but she quickly dismissed it as the hyperactive imagination of a pregnant woman.

Tameka attempted to go back to sleep. After fifteen minutes of forcing her eyes to remain closed, and a restless baby inside her that was using her bladder as a punching and kicking bag, she gave up and sat up in bed. The dim early morning light fought its way through the blinds and gave the room a gray, dreary appearance. Tameka looked down at her husband. Marcus was lying on his back, sleeping harder than the dead. Like she had been a few moments ago, he also seemed to be dreaming. His face was twisted and expression intense; Tameka couldn’t help noticing the deep furrows between Marcus’s eyebrows and his eyes moving rapidly beneath his eyelids.

Tameka knew Marcus wasn’t having the same dream she’d been having but she still worried. His expression made it seem as if he was in some type of conflict. He usually slept peacefully, with even, shallow breaths that would barely make his abdomen move, sometimes accompanied with a jerk of his legs to show he was still actually among the living.

Tameka propped up on her left elbow. She reached for Marcus’s ear and ran the fingertip of her index finger along the outline. Marcus shifted and turned over until he lay partly on his side and stomach. She now faced his bare back. Tameka lightly ran her splayed fingers over his dark brown shoulder blades. Marcus groaned, moved away an inch, and then was still again. Tameka bent down as much as she could for a very pregnant woman and gave Marcus a light lick on the back of his neck.

Marcus’s head went back reflexively. Tameka had expected his reaction. She’d already moved away and out of harm’s way. He would have butted her in the forehead if she had not. The back of Marcus’s neck was one of the spots he could not stand being touched.

Marcus squirmed. Stop, Meka. It’s too early for all that, he mumbled.

Tameka leaned into him again. She put her mouth to his ear and, giving her best Eartha Kitt impression, she said, Maaahcus… Maaaaahcus daaaahling. Wake up.

Give me ten more minutes, he pleaded. Pleeease.

Tameka loved it when he begged. She decided to let him get a little more rest. After all, it wasn’t his fault she couldn’t sleep. And her urgency to visit the bathroom had become her top priority. Tameka got up and sat on the side of the bed. She tried to look down and locate her Tweety slippers but all she was able to see were Tweety’s feet on her overstretched gown. Tameka had lost sight of anything directly below her navel two months before, when she’d gone from being five months pregnant to seeming as if she would give birth to triplets at any given moment.

Tameka was able to locate the right slipper by touch but the other slipper eluded her. The pressing need to empty her bladder made her give up quickly. She stood up and waddled to the bathroom with only the one slipper on. Tameka did not bother to turn on the light and she began relieving herself before she was fully in position on the seat. It was the third time since last night she’d had to get up to use the bathroom. She was dreading their trip to Wisconsin Dells later that morning. It would be almost a two-hour drive. Coupled with the motion of the car, she would be in bladder hell.

When she finished, Tameka remained on the toilet and pondered her dream.

It could actually be deemed a nightmare. It almost always happened the same way. The only changes that had occurred over the mounting years were the faces of the doctor, and then, seven years ago, a little girl had been added to the scene to remain as close to reality as possible. In the latest dream/nightmare, she was sitting in a hospital waiting room with Marcus and their daughter Jessica. Marcus Jr., better known as MJ, was in surgery. Both of his kidneys had failed. The doctor had told them that they had failed because he drank too many carbonated drinks. Tameka knew that portion of the dream was swiped from her own reality; she would always warn Marcus about his bad habit since he drank hardly anything except soft drinks.

The only way MJ could be saved was through a kidney transplant. Both Tameka and Marcus had bravely jumped to the forefront to save their child. Marcus wouldn’t let Tameka go through with it, however. He told her—assured her—that he had everything under control. Marcus was tissue—and blood-typed for compatibility and then they had to wait impatiently for the results. Tameka’s waiting was stressful; she knew what the outcome would be. She was crying hysterically by the time the doctor returned. The doctor walked in and cleared his throat. He looked directly at Marcus, purposely avoiding any eye contact with Tameka, and said, I’m sorry, Mr. Pettis, but—

Tameka’s scream had cut his sentence short and the dream had thankfully ended. She knew what the doctor planned to say but she would rather die than have him say it—even in a dream. It was not the right time.

If it were up to her, it never would be.

Bright sunlight streamed through the windows as Tameka sat at the kitchen table sipping on a coffee cup full of lukewarm orange juice. Light reflected off colloidal dust and she made a mental note to put her can of Pledge to good use as soon as possible. She’d called the rest of her family down to breakfast not less than thirty minutes ago but not a single one of them had yet appeared.

Tameka could hear them bumping around upstairs, however. Sporadic arguments erupted between the kids, MJ and Jessica, as they went through the usual morning routine of quarreling over who had been in the bathroom the longest.

A miracle of miracles, Jessica, her princess and doppelgänger, made the first appearance. She was usually the slowest of the bunch, fussing over her physical appearance as if she were a supermodel. Tall for her age, and almost as thin as a broomstick, she gave her mother a dismissive glance as she walked by and went to the pantry.

Well, good morning to you, too, Tameka said.

Good morning, Jessica mumbled as she retrieved a box of cereal.

Uh uh, Tameka said. You can see that I cooked breakfast this morning. You’re either going to eat what I cooked or not eat at all.

But I want some cereal, Mom. I don’t want hot breakfast. I’m really not in the mood for it.

I don’t care what you’re in the mood for. Like I said, either eat what I cooked or you don’t eat at all.

Jessica exhaled in disapproval. She put the cereal back where it belonged and trudged to the table. She sat down and folded her spindly arms across her chest. Jessica’s nose wrinkled at the sight of the plates of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sausage. Pancakes had been her favorite until a week ago. Then she had suddenly decided cereal was her new king of breakfast. Tameka was used to her daughter’s capricious nature, however. She overlooked Jessica’s distaste and stood up to prepare the little girl’s plate.

Marcus was the next one to make his way downstairs. He still looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept a wink last night. Sleep lines still rimmed his eyes. Tameka watched as he approached the table. He stopped a few feet away, stretched, yawned, and then scratched his crotch. She shook her head at his rudeness.

Marcus came toward Tameka and reached out to touch her with the hand he’d brazenly used. She jerked away from his pronated hand. You’d better wash those paws before you touch me, she said. "Before you touch anything at all… especially this food."

But I just got out the shower, Marcus protested.

And I saw what you just stood there and did. Tameka nodded toward the kitchen sink. Wash… now.

What did he do, Mommy? Jessica asked through a mouthful of food. Her displeasure at having a hot breakfast had quickly vanished without a trace.

Nothing, sweetie, Marcus replied. Your mommy is just being a grouch.

Tameka humphed. Yeah… whatever.

She is being a grouch, Jessica said. "I wanted cereal but she made me eat this." Jessica nodded toward the table and poked out her bottom lip.

You need to eat something that will stick to those skinny bones, Marcus said as he stood at the sink washing his hands. Plus, I don’t wanna be making a lot of stops to eat or take bathroom breaks.

We were supposed to leave an hour ago, Tameka said.

I was tired. I need a lot of rest to make that long drive.

Please… It’s only a couple of hours. You used to drive way more than that to Arkansas all the time.

I still needed my rest. Marcus sat down at the table and eyed his young daughter, who had her arms extended and her fingers spread as she inspected her nails.

I think that I need a manicure, Jessica said to no one in particular.

Do you have some manicure money? Marcus asked.

Yep. Why? Do you need to borrow some? Jessica brought her right hand closer to her face and frowned as she inspected the nail of the ring finger.

Marcus leaned back in his chair. Yeah. Loan me ten dollars.

Jessica’s hand disappeared beneath the table. She reached in her pocket and retrieved four bills: three tens and a twenty. She peeled away a crisp ten-dollar bill and extended it in her father’s direction as he looked on with his mouth agape.

Where did you get that money? Marcus asked.

I saved it.

Marcus looked over at Tameka. She nodded over the cup that hovered at her lips to affirm Jessica had indeed saved it.

Marcus returned his attention to Jessica. Your allowance is only five dollars a week. How did you manage to save that much?

She has that left over from her birthday, Tameka said. Jessica placed the ten on the table midway between her and Marcus. She put the other money away again with a smug look on her face.

Her birthday was in January! She still hasn’t spent it? Marcus pushed the money back toward Jessica who had no problem taking it back.

Girls are better with their money than boys are, Tameka said. She already knows we’re going to buy most of the things she wants or needs, so she keeps hers. Ask MJ how much money he has when he comes down. You’ll see.

On cue, MJ came bouncing noisily down the steps, taking the last three at one time. His basketball shoes squeaked on the hardwood floor as he walked into the kitchen and proceeded directly to the refrigerator.

As MJ opened the door and peered inside, showing the rest of the family the number three on the back of his Iverson jersey, Marcus asked, MJ, how much money do you have?

MJ removed the milk and placed it on the counter. I don’t have a dime, Pops. We really need to talk about an increase in my allowance.

Borrow some from your little sister. She’s a walking ATM, Marcus said.

She’s stingy, too, MJ replied as he went to the pantry. He pulled out a box of Lucky Charms and put the box beside the milk. He was opening the cabinet to get a bowl when Tameka kicked Marcus—who was busy filling his plate with eggs—underneath the table. Marcus looked at her in confusion with a strip of bacon protruding from the side of his mouth. She nodded in MJ’s direction.

Marcus looked at her without understanding. Tameka then nodded toward Jessica, who was unhappily looking from one parent to the other. Understanding finally came to him and he choked down the mouthful of pork.

Marcus said to Tameka, Let the boy have some cereal.

Didn’t you just tell Jessica that she couldn’t have any?

But he’ll be okay.

You can’t tell one not to do something and then let the other one do it.

MJ ignored their conversation, even though he was the primary subject, as he prepared to pour the milk on his cereal. Before the milk started to flow, Marcus said, It’s too late now.

MJ! Tameka snapped just as the milk began to pour. Get over here and sit down!

But, Mom, I’ve already—

Tameka cut him off. Boy, get over here and sit down right now.

MJ glanced toward Marcus to get some assistance. Marcus had already conceded he didn’t want to argue and was concentrating on his food. Jessica grinned at her brother’s defeat.

MJ sulked as he slid into a chair opposite Tameka, who was looking at him with disapproval. You better straighten your face up, she said.

MJ’s scowl was immediately replaced with impassiveness as he sat up straighter. Tameka turned to Marcus. You and I need to have a little talk before we leave.

Marcus cut his eyes at her and then at each of the kids. The kids already knew he was about to lose an argument. Marcus looked back down at his food as Tameka got up to pour the cereal down the garbage disposal as MJ began to prepare his plate.

After everyone had eaten and the kids were sent to make their final preparations for the trip, Tameka was finally alone with her husband. Marcus knew he was in trouble but he still could not completely understand why. The fact he was confused about it was obvious, and it irritated Tameka even more.

You know that she sees what you’re doing, don’t you? Tameka asked as she placed the soiled dishes in the dishwasher. Just because she’s only seven doesn’t mean she’s stupid.

Marcus remained seated at the table. He was scanning the sports section of the paper but he sensed the displeasure in Tameka’s tone as soon as she began talking. He snapped the paper closed, folded it, and placed it far enough away from him so it wouldn’t be mistaken that he was paying more attention to it than to her.

Who sees what? he asked.

Who else is only seven? Tameka slammed the dishwasher closed and turned it on. She placed her hands on the cold metal rim of the sink and looked out into the sunny morning. It was going to be a beautiful day. The cerulean sky was almost flawless, scarred only by the white stream of a plane far overhead. Jessica sees that you treat MJ differently from her, Tameka continued. She doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t know how to say it or what to say. But it still hurts her.

No, I don’t. I love both of them the same.

"I didn’t say anything about how you love them. I’m talking about how you treat them."

Isn’t it the same thing?

No, it’s not, and if you really think it is then you need to think again. You take MJ to more places with you. You spend more time with him. You talk to them differently, too. You’re always scolding Jessica about something and not scolding MJ enough. She turned to face him. Do you remember our conversation last night?

Marcus shifted uncomfortably. He cradled his chin in the palm of his hand. He tried to meet Tameka’s eye contact but decided the plain surface of the table was more pleasing at the moment. Marcus remembered their conversation very well, and he knew Tameka could tell that he did.

They had received a letter from MJ’s teacher the day before, which bluntly stated MJ was on the verge of being suspended. It listed late homework, class clowning, fighting, and even being caught with some older boys who were smoking in the bathroom as some of the reasons. When Marcus had come home from work and Tameka had read the letter aloud to him, all he could do was scratch his head in bewilderment and ask, Are you sure? That doesn’t sound like MJ at all. Tameka had sucked her teeth in annoyance and then shook her head sadly at her husband’s ignorance. She’d given the letter to him so he could read it himself.

MJ’s behavior at school was not hard to believe—at least to Tameka it wasn’t. Lately, MJ had become more defiant and rebellious at home, too. Instead of doing his homework, like he was supposed to be doing, he would sneak and play his video games. His once excellent grades—that Marcus had always been so quick to point out as taking after him—were slipping, which had finally prompted Marcus to tell him if he didn’t shape up then he would be taken off the basketball team. MJ could live without video games but basketball was an entirely different matter.

Tameka had always been a stricter disciplinarian than Marcus. She would have taken MJ off the team a long time ago, at the first sign of his malcontent, but all MJ had to do was go to Marcus for a quick pardon. Tameka’s accusation that Marcus let MJ get away with murder was well founded.

After Marcus had personally read the letter, he’d taken it up to MJ’s room and questioned the boy about it. MJ had answered, The other boys are always messing with me because of my height. I hate being short. MJ had then folded his arms across his chest and let his chin hang down. He was a pitiful sight and that was all it took for Marcus to instantly feel sorry for him.

MJ had pushed the right buttons with his comment. Instead of reprimanding the boy, Marcus had taken the blame and placed it upon himself. He confided in Tameka later that night that he hoped MJ would be taller than he was at his average 5′9″—a full two inches taller than his own father. Tameka had shaken her head in disgust. She’d told Marcus, You really need to unwrap yourself from around MJ’s little finger. When he had attempted to argue his case, Tameka had held up a hand to show she wasn’t trying to hear it.

Tameka continued the conversation in the kitchen. It’s not that you treat them differently. It’s the fact that you treat him better.

No, I don’t.

Marcus… you do and please don’t make me point out some recent examples.

No. Go ahead and point them out so I can explain.

Okay, a few minutes ago, you told Jessica she had to eat what I cooked. A couple of minutes later, you said MJ didn’t have to.

I didn’t say that. And it was more than a couple of minutes later.

You just contradicted yourself, but anyway. You didn’t exactly say that but it was understood. Shall I go on?

Yeah, because that was nothing. I just wasn’t thinking. Marcus pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

Last night, you were going to Jewel for some groceries to take on our trip. Jessica asked you if she could go. I heard her ask and you did too because you told her no. You told her you would be right in and out. She was looking out of the window when you left. MJ was out there playing basketball. Then she saw MJ get in the truck. She came to me complaining about it. What could I tell her? Should I try to explain how you love her differently but not less?

Marcus looked confused. I’ll do better, he said quietly after an extended silence.

Tameka stared at him for a short moment, as if to say, We’ll see.

Tameka proceeded to the refrigerator. She retrieved a bottle of Tahitian Noni and set it on the table in front of Marcus. As she went to get a glass out of the cabinet, he stared at the bottle in disgust. I don’t see how you drink this stuff, he said. It can’t be healthy for the baby.

"It is healthy. For me and the baby. And I sell this stuff. What would it look like if I couldn’t honestly say I drink it?"

Marcus continued to stare at the bottle, with his face contorted in a grimace. I can’t believe it even sells.

Well, it does. It’s a health-conscious world out there. My last check is paying for this trip—remember—so believe it or not, you see it’s paying pretty well.

Tameka had been a full-time housewife until almost two years ago when Jessica started kindergarten. Since kindergarteners only went to school for half the day, Tameka knew getting a part-time job was out of the question. But she did not want to sit at home all day, piddling about and bored to death. She wanted to do something that she could do from home, while the kids were at school and also when they were around the house.

A neighbor had come by one day and told her about Pre-Paid Legal—also known as legal insurance. At first the idea did not seem as if it would ever work, but the lady had shown Tameka some of the benefits she’d been reaping from having her own business. Tameka had become convinced and jumped in headfirst.

Tameka quickly found she had a knack for talking to people and getting them to listen. Most of the people she met felt they had no need at all for the insurance but there were still many who were fond of the idea of having a lawyer at their service when they needed it.

Soon, the money started to flow. It was not enough to sustain her family—or even herself, for that matter—if it came down to it, but it felt good to finally be doing something besides being a housewife. For the first time in years, she felt somewhat independent and important.

One of Tameka’s Pre-Paid clients had told her about Tahitian Noni, a medicinal drink that was quickly becoming popular in a nation that counted calories and carbohydrates as if they were money. She’d gone to a seminar with money for a start-up kit already in hand. At first it was hard to get people to pay forty dollars per bottle but pretty soon she had a steady clientele and she was giving seminars on both Pre-Paid Legal and Tahitian Noni without any assistance.

Tameka had always dreamed of being able to take Marcus and the kids on a vacation. It had always been Marcus, the sole breadwinner, who would pay for such things, with her doing all of the planning and working around his typically tight budgets. This time, with her planning and paying for it, it was personally gratifying. She wished she had started her own business a lot sooner.

She poured the purple liquid into a glass as Marcus watched with the look of disgust still frozen on his face. She set the bottle down on the counter. So, are you going to talk to MJ again or what? He pushed your buttons last night. This time, I think that you should be the one with the authority.

I’ll talk to him before we leave today. I promise. But if he grows up and shoots all of us because we were too strict on him, don’t blame me.

Yeah, whatever. I still don’t think we’re strict enough. Tameka took a sip of the liquid. Her face twisted as she forced the liquid down her throat.

See what I mean? Marcus said. Even you know it’s nasty. Why do you even go through it if it tastes that bad.

Like I said, because it’s healthy. And it won’t hurt you to drink any either. You drink too many pops anyway. Tameka turned around to go get another glass from the cabinet. Then I can say we both drink it and get even better sales. When she turned back around with the glass in hand, Marcus had already disappeared.

Marcus went outside and stood on the front porch of the medium-sized, four-bedroom house they had been living in for almost ten years. Their home sat at the end of a cul-de-sac and he could see most of the way down the street of his subdivision until it bent and disappeared down a hill in the distance.

Marcus’s black Expedition was parked in the driveway, waiting to be loaded with the bags for their trip. He heard sounds emanating from the garage and turned his head in that direction. All he could see was the rear of Tameka’s emerald green Camry. He heard a basketball begin to bounce and then saw MJ streak past as if he were being chased by a pride of lions.

MJ stopped at the edge of the driveway, dribbling the ball and controlling it as if it were an appendage on his body. MJ muttered to himself as Marcus watched the young phenom take the ball through his legs, around his back, seemingly make the ball hover in mid-air, and then start all over again in reverse order.

He pretty good, huh? a thickly accented voice said. Marcus looked in the direction of the voice and saw that Tom, their Asian next-door neighbor, was standing on his porch watching the And1 display. Marcus had not noticed him before. MJ briefly looked up when he heard the sound of Tom’s voice but he never stopped dribbling.

Marcus looked back at MJ with pride. Yeah, he is pretty good. He’ll get better, too.

Tom watched MJ in fascination. He young. How old? Nine? Ten?

Marcus frowned. There was a slight—but noticeable—pause in MJ’s dribbling. Tom had only been living in their neighborhood for a couple of months and he still had not met many of the other families. MJ and Jessica had been away at their grandparents in Florida until a week and a half ago. Tom was yet to officially meet them.

Marcus replied, He’s twelve. And he’s in the seventh grade.

Oh really? But he so small, Tom said. The man had no idea he was talking loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. Tom also had no clue he was referring to the height of a boy with a severe height complex.

Marcus grimaced. This time, MJ did stop dribbling. He began to walk toward the house with the ball tucked under his arm. Marcus said to Tom, I’ll talk to you later. I have to pack up for our trip. Tom waved a hand and disappeared back into his house.

MJ looked as if he had just been beaten up in front of his friends by a girl. Marcus hated to see him look so sad. He quickly decided that he would postpone their talk. Just as MJ made it to the porch, Marcus said, Don’t let that get to you, son. He didn’t know any better.

MJ went and sank down in one of the wicker porch chairs. I know he didn’t… but still. I just wish that I could wake up and be seven feet tall sometimes.

Marcus sat down on the porch steps. Seven feet, huh? That’s pretty tall.

Yep. And then I’ll be able to play every position from one to five.

Like Magic Johnson could do?

MJ rolled the ball back and forth underneath his foot. He only played point, though.

Once, in a playoff game, he played center. Kareem was hurt or something. That was way before your time, though. You weren’t even an itch in my pants yet. Marcus chuckled, knowing MJ had no idea what he meant.

MJ’s foot stopped. He looked at Marcus with surprise. Really?

Yep. And he did it as a rookie. And… he played every other position in that game. Scored forty-two points. He was only twenty years old.

Is he seven feet tall?

Almost. He was six-nine. Marcus held up his hands for MJ to toss him the ball.

MJ pondered what Marcus had just told him. Then he scooped the ball up and faked a hard throw to Marcus. Marcus’s hands instinctively went up higher to catch the faked ball and the boy grinned. MJ said, Well then, I wish I could wake up and be six-nine.

Marcus stood up and stretched his back. Now, that’s a bit more realistic. Marcus sidled closer to MJ and snatched the ball. Let’s play one.

MJ hopped up, his spirits suddenly brighter. Okay. Can I move the truck?

As long as you remember that R stands for Reverse. The last time Marcus let MJ attempt to move the truck, they’d almost had to buy a new garage door. MJ had managed to stop with only a hair of space between the front bumper and door.

That won’t happen again. Did you ever tell Mom about it?

Nope, I sure didn’t, and you better not either.

Believe me, I won’t.

MJ managed to back the truck up, with Marcus on the passenger side giving instructions as if they were flying the newest Apache helicopter, and out of the way for their game without any near disasters. He jumped out of the truck as if he had just won the Indy 500. Marcus got out and released a long sigh of relief.

MJ retrieved the basketball and took a shot with near perfect form from the grass, about fifteen feet away from the hoop. The goal was directly above the garage and the ball swished through smoothly, glancing off the raised part of the garage door. MJ held his form and said, Automatic.

That was luck, Marcus said.

You do it then. MJ retrieved the ball and threw a fundamentally sound chest pass to Marcus. And if you miss, you have to let me take my Gameboy Advance, he challenged. MJ was still on punishment from any video games because of the recent slip in his grades.

And if I hit, you have to help me load up the car.

Deal.

Marcus shot the ball from the same spot, his form not nearly as pretty as MJ’s had been. The ugly shot almost broke the backboard in half. It bounced off the right side of the rim and rose two feet above the backboard before it descended and rolled three times around the rim. The ball came precariously close to falling out before a slight gust of wind helped it fall in. Marcus smiled proudly and held his pose just as MJ had done.

"Now, that was luck," MJ said.

That was skill, son. All skill He looked down at MJ. No Gameboy but you will help me pack the truck. Now let’s play a quick game before your mother comes out and yells at us.

Okay. My ball. MJ began walking toward the ball that had gone to rest in the grass on the other side of the driveway.

How is it your ball? Marcus asked. Man and boy simultaneously broke into a run and wrestled like kids over the ball. MJ was the victor.

I’m taking your money today, MJ said as he dribbled to the end of the driveway. Marcus had once told MJ that the day he beat him would be the day he gave him a hundred dollar bill.

We’ll see, Marcus said as he crouched in a defensive stance. Game to sixteen. All two’s. No deuce.

Tameka sat on the living room couch with Jessica sitting on the floor between her legs. Black rubber bands protruded from the right corner of her mouth as she parted her daughter’s thick black hair.

Tameka looked up and toward the kitchen when she heard the first thud of the basketball hitting the garage door. She winced as if the sound had caused a contraction in her stomach. She knew if Marcus or MJ were playing basketball only a few minutes after the elder had gone outside, then there could not have been much of a conversation between the two. She shook her head and decided to wait until they could have another moment alone before she said anything.

She hated being the evil parent of the household. As she dealt out a very high percentage of the punishments, the kids were beginning to go to Marcus more and more for the things that they knew they would not get without a fight from their mother. It didn’t matter how much she talked to Marcus about it, however, because it always seemed to go in one ear and out of the other. She dreaded the day her own kids would not ever come to her again.

Another thud followed the first, this one sounding almost as if a bomb had been dropped on the house but had failed to explode. She instinctively knew who had shot that ball. It was Marcus. She knew it as if she had watched him shoot it with her own eyes.

Tameka had watched Marcus and MJ play basketball against each other ever since the boy was old enough to lift a ball over his head. In the early years, Marcus would playfully let MJ make wide-open shots or let him steal the ball from him to keep MJ’s competitive ego from fracturing. MJ had learned quickly, however, and by the time he was around nine he was making Marcus break into a sweat to win some games. If it were not for the height advantage that Marcus had, he would have paid the hundred dollars over a year ago.

Soon, the thuds were coming regularly and she could hear her two boys talking trash to each other. Tameka tuned them out and thought about the upcoming trip.

This would be the last trip for a while with the baby due in late October. At seven months, it would be hard to do a lot of the hiking she envisioned doing, but it would still be a good thing to get out of the house. Their last vacation had been over a year ago. Since then Marcus had started his own contracting business, which did not allow much free time to miss even a single day of work. Taking a full vacation would be hard, but it was long overdue for all of them.

Life had nonetheless been good to her and her family. Aside from the occasional growing pains of the children, the life they led was basically drama-free. A content smile played across her lips as she thought about it.

Tameka put the finishing touches on Jessica’s hair. There was a prickling in her thumbs she dismissed as static electricity from her daughter’s hair. Tameka had no idea the stinging sensation could be an ominous sign. She did not know that something wicked was coming their way—and soon. The entire course of her life would change dramatically before they would even make it to Wisconsin Dells.

Everything they needed had been packed three nights before. Tameka had demanded an early preparation. Marcus was notorious for procrastinating and leaving something important behind. Tameka wanted to hear none of that on this trip. The suitcases and bags were sitting in the upstairs hallway outside the bedrooms as if they were being picked up by hotel bellboys. The house bellboys, Marcus and MJ, began to load the truck after taking quick showers to rinse off the sweat of their one-on-one battle, which Marcus had narrowly won.

The family had barely pulled out of the driveway when MJ began to complain he wished he could have his Gameboy Advance. His whining fell upon deaf ears as Marcus and Tameka ignored him. Jessica quietly teased MJ, while remaining far enough out of reach of a retaliation smack.

They were paying the toll to get on Interstate 90 when MJ exclaimed, Hey, Dad, I left my Yu-Gi-Oh! cards at the house. Can we turn around and go back to get them?

Before Marcus could answer, Tameka said, Nope. We told you to get everything before you left. You’ll just have to live a few days without those cards.

Undeterred by his mother’s remarks, MJ leaned forward and spoke directly to Marcus, Dad, you said I could take them instead of my video game. Can we please go back and get them? We’re not that far from home.

Tameka struggled to turn around. It was difficult because of her stomach and the seatbelt. MJ was sitting directly behind her and trying his best not to look her way. Boy, what did I just say? she sternly asked. "When I tell you to do something, do not go and ask anybody else. Especially while I’m still around." Tameka would have accentuated her statement with a smack on his head if she’d been able to, but her sharp tone was enough to leave invisible welts all over MJ’s body.

Ah hah, Jessica teased. A deadly look at her from Tameka cut off any further teasing by the little girl.

They drove in silence for a few miles. As they were passing Barrington Road, the giant red letters of the AMC movie theater to their right, Marcus said in a low voice, I did say he could take his cards. We should have gone back to get them.

No, we shouldn’t have. He’ll be A-OK. Today, tomorrow, Sunday, and Monday.

Yeah, but—

But nothing. You can’t let him have his way all the time.

I’m not letting him have his way. I’m just saying that I told him he could take them along. That was our deal.

"Well, he’s left them now and we’re not turning around."

At some point during the debate, Tameka’s voice had risen above a conversational volume. She would have preferred the kids not hear their discussion—MJ in particular. She hated having disputes that concerned the kids while they were around to listen. It only made her parenting that much more difficult.

MJ put on a long sad face. He positioned himself so Marcus would be able to see his expression if he happened to look in the rearview mirror. After a few minutes of Marcus staring straight ahead at the road in front of them, an impatient MJ decided to instigate matters by sniffling loudly.

Marcus looked in the mirror as MJ had planned. Tameka looked over at her husband with her face pinched in a frown and arms folded across her breasts. Marcus cut his eyes at her and then quickly looked back at the road.

Just when Tameka and MJ had mentally conceded that Marcus had lost the second argument of the day, Marcus said, I’ll stop at the Wal-Mart off Highway 25 and let MJ run in and get some cards. The words spilled quickly out of his mouth. He was afraid if he stopped too long, Tameka would cut him off.

Tameka would have if she’d had the chance to. Even though she didn’t cut him off, she still replied, We aren’t stopping anywhere. Didn’t you say you didn’t want to make a lot of stops?

It’ll be quick.

I don’t want to go to Wal-Mart, Marcus.

You don’t have to go in. MJ can go in himself. He’s old enough to.

I don’t want to stop, Marcus.

It’ll be quick. I promise.

Before Tameka could argue about it further, Marcus was slowing down and exiting onto the loop that would take them to Dundee Road in Elgin, the town in which she had been born and raised.

Yes, MJ triumphantly hissed in the back seat.

Can I go in with him, too? Jessica asked.

MJ replied, No, you’re too little. He stuck his tongue out at her for added effect.

Jessica was not very happy. You can’t tell me what to do, she said. Can I go, Mommy? Tameka didn’t answer. The mother sulked in the seat and looked out of the window. Her lack of fight was also because she needed to go pee. Jessica turned to Marcus. Dad, can I go in, too?

No, sweetie, he replied. You’re too little. He should be right in and out.

Tameka grunted something unintelligible. Marcus knew there was a very good chance it was something he didn’t want to hear. Jessica sat back in the seat and grumbled the rest of the way to the store. Within the next half hour, both Marcus and Tameka would wish they had never heard of the cards MJ wanted so badly.

Tameka had not been to the Wal-Mart off Highway 25 since before Jessica was born. Just as she remembered, though, it was still bustling with activity as people prepared for the Labor Day weekend. Most of the people she saw were of Hispanic origin, which didn’t surprise her at all. When she had left ten years ago, Elgin was quickly becoming a predominately Hispanic town.

Marcus drove a beeline through the parking lot but could not find any spaces near the entrance. I’ll drop you off at the front, he said to MJ after two circuits. We’ll either be riding around or parked somewhere close when you come out. We’ll be watching for you. He pulled up to the front to let MJ get out.

MJ did not have any money, of course. Marcus had no idea how much the cards cost. Tameka did, however, and when he pulled out a five and held it out to MJ, the boy stared at it in contempt. What can I do with this? MJ asked.

That brought a slight smile to Tameka’s face as she waited for her husband’s reaction. He was—hands down—the cheapest man in the world when it came to things that were not necessities. And in his mind, Yu-Gi-Oh! cards were not in that category.

How much more do you need? Marcus asked in alarm.

More than this, MJ replied.

Marcus reluctantly opened his wallet again. He saw only a twenty and a hundred-dollar bill. He looked over at Tameka to ask if she had another five but thought better of it. He retrieved the twenty and handed it to MJ, whose eyes had lit up like a Christmas tree. I want my change back, he told MJ. If I’d known they were that expensive, we definitely wouldn’t have stopped.

I’ll pay you back one day, MJ replied as he hopped out of the car and quickly disappeared into the store.

You have ten minutes to be back out or you’ll get left! Marcus yelled after him.

Tameka unbuckled her seatbelt. She said to Marcus, I’m going in, too. I have to use the bathroom. Come on, Jess, you need to try, too.

I don’t have to go, Jessica said.

I thought you wanted to go in?

I did. But I wanted to go to the toy section with MJ, she said petulantly.

Well, you can’t always have what you want. Come on, child. Tameka climbed out of the truck with Jessica following close behind.

Marcus pulled away again to see if any close parking stalls had opened up. It seemed as if it was his lucky day. A van was pulling out of one of the stalls designated for expectant mothers. Tameka fit the description perfectly and he immediately took advantage of his good fortune. He fiddled with the radio until he looked up and spotted Tameka and Jessica coming out of the store. He honked the horn to get their attention. The sound also got the attention of a few other patrons and a couple of the Wal-Mart employees, all of whom quickly went back to their business when they realized the sound was not meant for them.

Tameka and Jessica climbed into the truck. Did you see MJ? Marcus asked.

Nope, Tameka replied. But I feel sooo much better. Little man in here must have been swimming. She chuckled. She could never stay mad at Marcus too long and she was already forgetting about their trivial argument.

Marcus detected the change in her mood. Did you know how much those cards cost? he asked.

Yep. Where else did he get the others? That’s what you get, she said through a giggle.

He won’t get anymore, I can promise you that much.

Yeah, right. I wouldn’t be surprised if he made you stop for something else before we make it to the Dells. Marcus did not respond. He knew she was more than likely right.

Marcus and Tameka chatted idly as they watched people go in and out of the store. It was a warm day but otherwise perfect. Tameka had watched the weather closely the past few days and no rain was expected all weekend. She was happy for the good fortune. It was going to be a great summer’s end.

Al Sharpton’s presidential ad came on the radio, and he all but promised that black people would rule the world if he were elected. Jessica paid no attention to the empty promises; she sat in the back playing her own Game Boy Advance and wondering aloud why she couldn’t have gone in with MJ.

Marcus and Tameka ignored her. It seemed as if neither of them had paid any attention to the ad, which had just ended, until Marcus said, Bush doesn’t stand a chance in this next election.

I know, Tameka replied. That’s because the whole world knows he lied about Iraq having weapons. But then again, the Democrats don’t have anyone worth mentioning to run against him. The only one that I know anything about is Al Sharpton and I wouldn’t vote for him myself.

Why not? Marcus asked. We should support our black people. He was being facetious. Tameka knew that much. Marcus despised Sharpton almost as much as he despised Bush.

He seems shady to me, Tameka explained. Always has. I just feel he has a hidden agenda and he wouldn’t put our country’s best interests as his top priority. Supposedly, he has bad credit. Can you imagine what he would do to the national deficit?

Marcus laughed. It’s a shame that we as black people don’t have anyone to fully represent us in the presidency. Think about it: A father and son can be president but not a single black person.

That’s true. I never thought about it like that. I would vote for Jesse before I vote for Sharpton, though.

Damn Jesse Jackson! Marcus exclaimed. That fool went and had a baby by another woman. If he had been elected when he ran before, three years into his term, everyone probably would have found out he had another country on the side or something.

Tameka chuckled softly. Marcus laughed heartedly at his quick wit. She had a sentimental spot for Jackson’s plight due to personal reasons of her own. Tameka looked out of the passenger window as Marcus launched into a spiel of overused Jackson and his illegitimate child jokes. She absentmindedly rubbed her prominent pregnant stomach as she watched people go by. Her eyes came to rest on a tall slender man standing to the right of the Wal-Mart exit, seemingly trying to look as invisible as possible. He was casually leaning against the wall on the side of a Pepsi machine. He wore the typical royal blue Wal-Mart vest and was smoking a cigarette. A line of shopping carts gleamed in the sun and patiently waited near him. His relaxed lean indicated the carts would be waiting for a while.

Recognition came to Tameka in an instant. Her entire body flashed hot and then cold. Thousands of goose bumps sprouted over her arms and legs and the sudden chill she felt made her fidget uncomfortably. She silently wished she could be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Even back at home folding clothes, the one chore she hated the most. Just as long as it was where the man standing in her field of vision was not.

Marcus began to sing in a voice made for singing to deaf people and only deaf people:

I’m sorry Miss Jackson, I am for reeeeal . . .

I never meant to have a daughter by . . .

Another woman when you are my wife . . .

Jessica loudly requested Marcus to stop singing. The soloist looked toward Tameka to see what type of response he had evoked with his creativity. She continued to stare out of the window and paid no attention at all to what he was saying or doing.

Tameka, Marcus called.

Tameka jumped slightly at the sound of her name. But she never turned her head nor made any other indication she had heard him. Marcus followed the direction of her eyes to see what could possibly be more interesting than his clever