Bones' Ring

From an early age my brother Curtis and I, separately, concluded that, as adults, we didn’t want to be like our mother, Teresa. When Curtis in the 4th grade he wrote a letter to his teacher describing his disdain for Teresa. “Lazy, country, bitch” were some of the words he used. Yikes, right? That letter destroyed an already deteriorating relationship between the two of them. My dad said it was the catalyst of her hatred for my brother and on some level, I get it. Although, I had some empathy for that teacher. She probably assumed she was doing the right thing. She probably hoped it would start a healthy discussion between parent and child. She never knew she was handing Teresa gasoline and a match to burn down an already dilapidated structure. She wasted no time in lighting the match and watching it burn.

This explanation is needed so that Teresa’s funeral doesn’t make us seem like assholes. We partied. HARD. With champagne and a DJ. Her death wish was to be cremated, declaring she did not want anyone in attendance except me and Curtis. So that’s exactly what we did. There was no ceremony, no repass, not even an obituary. We called our family to let them know the following day. The party was their idea. Everyone got dressed and celebrated the life of Teresa Janice Wilkson the way she lived, by getting drunk and talking shit. We had a blast. The wicked witch was gone, and so silenced those demons.

The last thing we needed in closing Teresa’s affairs was meeting with the attorney handling her will. To me, she left the things she valued most: Photos of Curtis and I as kids, our Family bible, a 3 carat Tiffany’s diamond ring and a black, moleskin notebook. To Curtis and dad, she left nothing. I gathered everything, thanked the attorney for his help, and left. On my way home, I found frames for the photos, dropped them off to Curtis and found a small cedar box to put the other things in. Once I got there, I slid the box under my bed for safe keeping. I set the notebook on top of the bed and headed for the shower. It had been a long day, and dealing with Teresa, alive or dead was taxing. Towel drying my hair, I sat down on the edge of the bed and contemplated the fact that Teresa’s ashes were now in an urn sitting on my dresser.

I can’t believe she’s gone. This should feel different. People cry when they lose their parents. Not party. Maybe I should try to cry. Nah.

I felt indifferent. The thought sent a chill down my back causing my knee to twitch slightly, knocking the notebook onto the floor. The thud made me jump harder than it should have. I noticed the notebook had fallen open, and a blue, rectangular piece of paper came loose from the pages. I stared at it for a minute before picking it up. It was a check. Although it wasn’t dated, it was made out to me in the amount of $20,000.

Chloe Mae Shalter. $20,000. This can’t be a real check.

I kept blinking, thinking my eyes were adding zeros.

Why would she have a check for me?

In disbelief, I called the attorney to find out if he had any information about it or the name on the account. He didn’t know either but was able delineate that the check was still valid and could be cashed. The name on the account sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it; And, because the attorney couldn’t provide that information either, I did what any rational human would do: I cashed the check and spiraled into a wormhole of Google and social media searches for the name Trina D. Watkins. I spent two days with five of my friends researching that name but came up empty handed. A group of women are better at recon than the FBI, CIA & ATF combined so if we couldn’t find this lady, it was a lost cause.

The next night, something pulled me back to the notebook. I picked it up, brought it to my nose and inhaled. Cedar and white diamonds danced around my nose. Not wanting to flood my mind with memories but not being able to stop myself, I closed my eyes and let the smell pull me back to my childhood. I could feel myself sitting between Teresa and my grandma in church, they were singing Hallelujah and clapping to the choir. The sun was warm on my face, shining through the mosaic windowpanes, and I could almost feel my grandma grab my hands and urge me to clap along.

I let the memory fade and started to flip through the pages looking for something, anything but they were all blank. The notebook was almost brand new, except for an inscription under the front flap, along the bottom. In Teresa’s handwriting, it read: “To Sunshine, Love Mom. 12/20/34”. I never remembered her calling me that, but it’s been my nickname my entire life so it’s safe to assume everyone had gotten it from her. I closed my eyes in frustration.

Don’t call me that.

My phone began ringing loudly in my lap, which brought me back to reality. I sat up, letting go of the notebook and checked the caller ID. Unavailable.

You’re Unavailable, well so am I. They’ll leave a message if it’s important.

I usually don’t answer blocked numbers, but the voicemail that had been left behind made me regret that decision immediately.

“Sunshine, it’s Mark. Baby I’m so sorry …*muffled*… they said they would kill me if I didn’t…*muffled*…” Then a single gunshot. Then silence.

As the voicemail played, I pushed my legs over to the edge of the bed and stood up, knocking the notebook onto the floor. My breathing stopped, and I started to feel the cereal I had just eaten bubble around my stomach. As the message continued, I could hear a gun being cocked and fired again. Then silence. Someone began to fumble with the phone, and a voice came on that I did not recognize, “Chloe Mae, give me my money or my mama’s ring. The longer you take, the more people you love will die. Hope you won’t miss your boyfriend, but your brother is next. *click*.”

Mark. Mark. Mark. Mark.

I dialed Mark’s number in a panic begging GOD to make him answer his phone, but he didn’t. I could feel the phone slipping from my hand when his voicemail picked up but I couldn’t move fast enough to catch it. It bounced off my foot and landed on the floor, next to the notebook. My heart sank, and the cereal started coming up instead. The notebook. The check. The Tiffany’s ring.

Teresa. Fucking Teresa. Curtis.

I couldn’t bring myself to pick the phone up off the ground, because I knew if Curtis didn’t answer I would lose my shit. I grabbed my keys off the dresser, ran out my bedroom, down the stairs and to the front door before realizing I didn’t have any shoes on. As I stopped in front of it trying to remember where my shoes were, someone started slowly pounding on the other side. I felt the pounding deep in my bones, and it made me wince with every hit. My feet felt as heavy as anchors with each step I took towards that door, mustering enough courage to look out the peephole. Through the tiny hole, all I could see was the shadow of a tall man in a black ski mask holding a gun to Curtis’ head. Curtis’ hands seemed to be tied behind his back, his eyes duct taped shut, with what looked like dried tears that had flooded his face. He wasn’t crying right then, just silently shaking. I grabbed my mouth and squeezed trying not to let the pain escape from my vocal cords.

CURTIS! CURTIS! No GOD, why Curtis?!

Before I knew it, the door flew open, knocking me to the ground. Four men pushed themselves through the door frame as I scrambled to make room on the floor. Everything in me wanted to get up and run, but I couldn’t move when I saw who they were. Shock took over. One masked man had Curtis and another had Mark, both blind folded and tied up, but alive. Through the shadow of the porch light, a short, stocky figure started towards me.

“Damn you look like your momma!” Bones’ belly jiggled as he laughed, looking down at me from his short stature. “Get up baby girl, let’s go get my money.” Extending his hand to help me up, he smiled and all I could see was diamonds. Shaking, I just sat there and stared at him. “Look,” he said, squatting down to my level on the floor, “I loved your mom so I’m not going to hurt you. I just want my money. We go get it, I bring you back, we go about our lives like this day never happened.” With tears in my eyes, I looked from him to Curtis, to Mark and back to him again. Terrified, I took his hand and let him help me up. He walked me out to the car, loaded me in and we headed towards a bank. I didn’t speak the whole car ride, but Bones took that opportunity to enlighten me on what precipitated this situation.

He explained that he and Teresa had been together for years, but a while ago she had caught him one night with a couple of her friends in a compromising position. It didn’t take long before she decided to skip town but not before stealing his mama’s ring off his finger while he slept. He wasn’t sure of the logistics, but he knew she had it stolen, got the insurance money and put it in the bank under an aliases, Trina D. Watkins.

Once Chloe cashed the check and Trina’s account was liquidated, an email notification went out to an old cell phone of hers Bones had. All it took was a phone call to track down who cashed the check. First, he kidnapped Mark and made the ransom tape.“Yooooo, ya boy Mark shitted his pants when the gun went off,” Bones started laughing. “He didn’t want me to tell you tho! Either way, then we went and got Curtis. Had to get Big Joe and Crispy to put the hands on him. Wasn’t pretty, but his own fault really. I wasn’t gone hurt ‘em, just had to scare ya a little bit. Then we came to scoop ya. Too bad about the ring though, my mama loved that thing.”

When we got back to my house, Big Joe and Crispy were standing outside. As I started for the car door, Bones leaned in and put the barrel of his gun against my neck causing me to freeze.

“Now, Sunshine, you sure you don’t know about the ring? You wouldn’t play me, would you?” He said, moving the gun’s nose down to my chest. “I’ve been nice, but if I have to come back…I can’t guarantee I will be.” He looked me in my eyes for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“No. I don’t. I’m sorry.” I said coldly.

“Ok.” He finally said before leaning back in his seat and nodding to his door man to let me out of the car.

Jesus Lamar Christ, Thank you!

I held my breathe until I was inside my house, behind my deadbolts and padlocks. I rushed to the kitchen where Mark had been tending to Curtis’ black eye. Hugging my brother and boyfriend, I prayed that that was the last any of us would ever see of Bones. I never told anyone about the ring, safely in the cedar box upstairs under my bed. I figured the less people who knew, the better.