The Deal

Fourteen-Bernadette

The other two were sent recently. It's so good to have someone care about you this much. When I get home, I brace myself—reflecting on all the things I want to tell my best friend, whether good or bad. I scan the contact list, and my God, I do have lots of friends. How did I get to know so many of these people? Did they care about me? It's obvious they were living perfect lives when I was in the coma. My husband and Yvonne were the only people I saw and heard beside my bed. My pulse rate quickens when I dial Yvonne, and it's followed by an instant response.

"Bee! Oh, thank the heavens. Please tell me ya okay. I couldn't sleep last night because I had a sixth sense. I had a feeling something was wrong with ya."

"It's only a bump to the head," I reply, climbing the stairs to head to my room. "I'll live. I saw your missed calls. What was it you–"

"Oh, yeah. I... I was going to talk to you about the situation last night. I just wanted to say I'm sorry if the news came so suddenly. l didn't mean to catch ya by surprise like this."

"I perfectly understand your fears, Yvonne." I hurl one of my wardrobes open and scan through the lines of colorful wigs resting on plastic dummy heads. "I'll admit I may not be mentally prepared for acting right now, but if you throw me out of the cast, think of the ratings we would lose. I'm the one carrying the show. Please, let me do this for you."

Yvonne groans. "Bee. You were found unconscious hours ago. Please, don't get yourself worked up over this."

"Hey, while I was in recovery from the crash, remember what you did? You reminded me that you went through hell to get the TV networks to pitch this show? You remember what you said when we were in college? Remember the real reason you wanted me to be the lead in your show?"

"Oh, Blurtnawt!" Yvonne curses, her Jamaican Patwah getting stronger now she's in distress. "Don't ya dare use this to talk me out of it."

"A couple of days after the coma, you said my role as Aneska changed my life. The random DMs I got from men, telling me about their dirty fantasies of me as the character. You told me the role in the sitcom would set me free from the Soap Opera controversies." I grab the purple wig and test it on my head. "I'm not doing this for my career, I'm doing this for you. Back in film school, you'd always tell me,' Bee, one day I'm gon' produce mi own sitcom and mi show gon' top Fresh Prince o' Bel Air'."

Yvonne bursts into a forced chuckle. "I never sounded like that."

"Whatever. Remember the countless times you had to pitch Bad Habits to networks? This project has been your baby, and now look, you've finally achieved your dream. I'll finish this till the last season, no matter what shit I'm going through. Because I'm doing it for my true friend."

"For God's sake, Bee. This dumb show could get cancelled right this minute, as we speak. Bad Habits is irrelevant. You're the one I care about the most."

"Well, this dumb show is important to me because of you. So, I'm telling you, you'd have to kill me if you don't want me to keep playing Puleng."

Yvonne grunts as I catch my reflection in the mirror. I slowly rip the bandage off the wound on my left-side forehead. "Bee, let's sleep on this, alright? We'll discuss later."

"Wait. Can you please give me Jabar's address?" I rush to the desk and grab a pen and a paper pad.

"Uh, okay." I jot it down as she spills it to me, then memorize it at the back of my head.

"Why? You planning on seeing him?"

"Do you remember Bill?" Silence radiates for a couple of seconds.

"Who's Bill?"

I nudge my jacket off and strip off my trousers. "I haven't told you about my stalker, have I?" Was the question directed to her or myself? I don't know.

"Bee, what the hell are ya saying? Ya not making sense right now. Who is Bill, and when did you have a stalker?"

Thabo said I didn't want my best friend knowing about the occurring Bill incidents, all because I didn't want her stressed out. I guess the old me was very complicated. Finally coming out to tell her has caused a sudden tension to lift off my shoulders. "Yvonne, I'm sorry, but I kept some secrets from you... before the crash. A fan of mine, named Bill, used to send me letters to my mail, because in his deranged mind, I was the promiscuous seventeen-year-old, Aneska. He grew obsessed when I refused to reply to him, and then one night, he even attacked me. But when I stabbed him in self-defense, he got away. I think he had something to do with the accident."

A silence echoes for a while, and I wonder if this big revelation has caused her to pass out. "Yvonne," I call out. There's no reply. I pause for a second. "Please talk to me."

"Why are you now telling me this? Ya chose to tell me this after you almost died?" She mutters something I find hard to hear. "I don't believe ya, Bee. You're obviously confused or mixing up memories."

I sigh. "Yvonne, I'm serious. I knew the right thing to do was to tell you, but I didn't want you involved. I'm so sorry. He knows I'm alive, and now he's taunting me."

"Are ya fucking kidding me?! You know what? You're lucky ya memories are not intact cause I would have marched over to ya house and deal with ya." Yvonne pauses. "Bee, don't do anything that will get you hurt,' she says, anger slowly dissipating in her voice. "Stay home and be careful. I'll come over to you in an hour and then we're having a really long talk."