Page 43 of The Deadly Candies

Daphne’s brow lifted. “Really? Who?”

“Nicolas Ricci,” Sandra said.

Daphne glanced back at the door, then at her cousin, her face frozen in surprise. “When? When was he here?”

“About an hour ago,” Sandra replied.

“What did he say? What did he want?” Daphne pressed. “Was he looking for Junior?”

“Junior? No. He talked about us being kids and some accident I had. Said it was his fault I got hit by a car, according to him. I don’t remember any accident, though—just him and his sister coming to the bakery.”

Daphne stood frozen.

Sandra slowly turned and faced her. “Funny thing though. He was insistent that I had been hit by a car, and everyone knows it. And you guys are keeping it from me.”

“I—I—I—” Daphne stammered.

Sandra crossed her arms. “Listen to me. You can’t go through life with Swiss cheese for a brain and not know you’re different. I never knew why Mama gave me half-truths, but I know more than you think I do. I know who he is, and I know your Ma and mine have enough secrets to bury this family. I’m not playing this game anymore. Everyone wants something from me. I have my own plans, and I need to know, like my cousin, that I can trust you.”

“I’m sorry, Sandra. We were always told not to discuss it. You went to those fancy schools, and you seem just to forget. That’s why I didn’t want you reading those diaries. Some secrets are better left alone.”

“It’s fine. I didn’t say anything to Nicolas Ricci, and I’m not going to say anything to Auntie. You and I are going to figure this out. Family.” Sandra put up her pinky.

Daphne looked relieved. She hugged her instead. “You not mad at me? For never talking about it?”

“No. Mama’s gone. I want to find her before they do. That’s all I care about right now,” Sandra said.

Daphne looked at her watch. “Mama wants this family meeting. I think we should all sit down as a family and talk about the past. The accident you remember sometimes, and then don’t sometimes. Really talk. Okay? At least put it on the table.”

“No. You aren’t listening. I have learned a lot from Mama’s diary. She and Carmelo were honest kids, faithful to their beliefs, respectful of others. Now I see the pain they went through. Not just being separated, but constant pain, marriages, lies, and secrets. I didn’t think before that my Mama was alive. It is making sense to me now, though. Why wouldn’t they run from us all? Disappear and have the life they never could have? And they may be in trouble too. So don’t say anything. I’m going to figure this out. My way.”

“I swear it. I won’t say a thing,” Daphne promised.

Sandra nodded. “Let me get my purse.”

Daphne helped lock up the bakery, and the two left in silence. Sandra wrestled with her strange inability to confront her family and the secrets. Every time a revelation came, she digested it but rarely questioned it. Strong bouts of anxiety kept her frozen in ways she couldn’t explain as a young girl.

Memories surfaced and faded even during the short drive. She grew tired of trying to reconcile the gaps in her life, which she’d always accepted as dreams. The schools she attended and the kids she spent time with in her younger years were from wealthy families and troubled, but the professionals made the bad things better, tolerable, and eventually go away. Even her life in D.C. and her years at Howard—there was always something just out of reach, something she could almost grasp before it slipped away. Was Nicolas right? Was trusting her family, even her cousin, a mistake? She wanted the truth more than ever now. She wanted her mother.

15

The Sit Down - Harlem, 1978

Daphne and Sandra worked in unison. They warmed up the food from the repast and set the table in the kitchen. Christopher was watching television while Debbie paced on the phone, yelling at her oldest son.

“Get your ass over here! Now! I knew you were at the arcade. I mean it, Junior,” Debbie shouted.

Daphne glanced up at Sandra and then back down to setting the table. Sandra listened as Debbie became increasingly angry. She slammed the phone down and told Christopher to turn the TV off and wash his hands. She stormed into the kitchen, went to a cabinet, and removed a bottle of E&J. She poured herself a glass of it straight, and the girls exchanged more secretive looks.

“I swear before God, that boy is just like his father. How is that possible? I just… I don’t know. It’s in the blood. Both of them were born to drive me crazy.” Debbie put a hand to her brow.

“You okay, Ma?” Daphne asked.

Debbie lowered her hand as if she were seeing them for the first time. To Sandra’s surprise, there were tears in her Aunt’s eyes. “We need to talk. My Ma always said important information should be shared at the dinner table. Eating and meeting made it easier to digest.” Debbie sniffled as tears dropped. “I miss my Mama, I miss Big Mama too, and Aunt Brenda. We had strong women in this family and one day I woke up and me and Kathy were alone. They gone. I’ve missed them all for her for years.”

Daphne went over to her mother and hugged her. Sandra watched, knowing that empty, hollow feeling. She lowered her gaze. Debbie recovered and pushed Daphne away. “Sit down. Let’s eat. I have something to say. I’ll deal with Junior later.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Daphne.

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