Through the Crack

It was the day of uncovering, the day that Truth would confront Lie. Outside, the sun shone brightly exposing everything in sight, while inside it was dark and dreary, bearing no sign of the radiance that reigned beyond the door. A huge gray cloud engulfed the Morgan family home; it was the kind of cloud that fills the sky when a storm is near. Vickie sat in the recliner in front of the television smoking Virginia Slims cigarettes back to back. The cloud hovered about her as she stared blankly watching the smoke rise from her cigarette and settle in its place. The cloud above her was so thick she expected rain to come pouring down from it at any moment. The television was on, but it was watching her more than she was watching it. Her mind was on something else—her last conversation with her sister Vanessa. Thoughts of Vanessa weighed heavily on Vickie’s mind, and she always knew when Vanessa was mad, because unlike herself, Vanessa always made it crystal clear. The night before, Vanessa had made it clearer than ever, so now Vickie sat wondering just how long it would be before Vanessa stormed through the door. Vanessa never said she was coming, but something inside of Vickie knew her sister would be there soon. The last thing Vickie wanted was a sermon, and she was sure her sister had already prepared her notes. Vickie didn’t mind her sister being saved; they were both raised in the church. It was the “sanctified and filled with the Holy Ghost” part that bothered her. She never knew what to expect from Vanessa. Vickie felt ashamed. As a matter of fact, she was even embarrassed to look at herself. She knew she looked as horrible as she felt, if not worse. Talk about a bad hair day, Vickie had a bad hair month. Her light brown hair was strewn all over her head and it hadn’t been combed in days. Her smooth olive skin had turned dark and ashy—like burned coals. The faded jeans and T-shirt she wore were dingy from days of uninterrupted wear, and her clothes gave off a foul smell that revealed how she spent her time. If Vanessa were to see Vickie in this condition, she would hit the ceiling or maybe even Vickie. It was a terrible situation, and Vickie knew it. Not wanting to add any more fuel to the fire, Vickie got up from beneath the cloud of smoke and went to clean herself up. Of course, the cloud followed her. As she ran hot water in the tub for a bath, Vickie poured in some of her Victoria’s Secret bubble bath, something she hadn’t used in a very long time. She lowered herself on one knee, placed her hand in the water, and flicked it back and forth to settle the bubbles. The warm water felt inviting as it swooshed against her hand. Not having had a bath in a while, Vickie had forgotten just how peaceful it could be. Her plans were to sit in the tub and soak until she got rid of the loud stench seeping from her pores. Vickie also wanted to use the bath as time to relax and totally emerge from her body and mind. She knew some down home blues would take her mentally where she wanted to go. There was once a time in her life when gospel music would have been her choice, but lately, she wanted to take her problems to the world rather than to God. Vickie walked over to her portable radio and turned it on. The song, “Bag Lady” blared out of the speakers. Nervously, Vickie switched to WCDG, the station that played the blues all day long. She, too, was carrying plenty of baggage, and was not interested in hearing anybody telling her about her own issues. She already knew just how heavy those bags she was hauling through life were. The slow mellow sound of the blues began to calm Vickie’s nerves as she slowly lowered herself into the tub. The heat from the water quickly opened her pores. Instantly, her body felt relief. Vickie scooped up the soap and began to vigorously scrub herself as the dirt and dead skin detached itself from her body and floated freely in the now grimy water that formed a ring around the tub. Feeling somewhat refreshed, she slowly leaned back in the tub and exhaled a long sigh of relief! The sad fact is that Vickie didn’t realize that the inside of her body needed a cleaning ten times more thoroughly than the outside. She only had just barely touched the surface of her seemingly insurmountable problems. There was so very much more lying below the surface— deeply within her soul! It had been buried beneath her desperate desire to be perfect, but now the time had come for her imperfections to be resurrected. Instead of exploring the source of her own problems, Vickie focused her attention on the radio and the troubles the blues singers bellowed and crooned about in their sad songs. The radio station was really “jamming.” The disc jockeys were playing all the songs that made her a blues fan: “Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone” by Bobby “Blue” Bland; “Someone Else Is Steppin’ In” by Denise LaSalle; and “Don’t Hurt No More” by Buddy Ace. Vickie wanted them to bring it on because she enjoyed the serenade of non-stop music. After twenty minutes of playing the greatest blues classics, the DJ played a song Vickie had never heard. This was unusual because she was an avid blues fan. The singer crooned, “You can run, but you can’t hide.” Vickie had lived in Mississippi, the birthplace of the blues, all of her life. She was convinced that the blues didn’t lie. She believed the blues was the kind of music that tells the truth (good or bad, right or wrong). It makes you see what you don’t want to see and hear what you really don’t want to hear. Searching for the message in the music, she listened ever so attentively to the song, and by the time the record finished, Vickie had come to realize she had been trying to run away from her problems; however, it hadn’t worked. She was finally ready to admit to herself that she was, indeed, an addict—a crack addict. Truth smiled. On the phone the night before, Vanessa had asked Vickie if she was using drugs. Vickie wondered how her sister could even ask her something like that, and more importantly, why on earth had she admitted such a thing. After all, she didn’t really think she had a drug problem. And even though Vickie was somewhat ready to accept the reality of her addiction, she was definitely not ready for a face-to-face confrontation with her sister. Just because I use drugs doesn’t mean I am an addict, does it Vickie asked herself? When her conscience answered “no,” she continued talking to herself. As a matter of fact, I don’t have to have drugs. That’s it! That’s what I’ll tell Vanessa. I’ll just have to think of a way to take back my confession and make my new story believable. Within minutes of deciding to face her problem, Vickie decided to deny it. Lie smirked. To help prove her point of not needing drugs, Vickie tried to remember the last day that she hadn’t put drugs into her system. According to her recollection, it had been so long ago that merely searching for the date gave her a headache. Nevertheless, she was determined to remember the date so she could throw it in Vanessa’s face. The more she thought, the more pain she endured. It felt as if someone was pounding her head with a hammer each time a thought crossed her mind. She had only experienced this type of pain once in her life, when she was seven years old and had fallen from a high sliding board onto the rocks below. At the moment, she wished her parents were present to comfort her like they had been then. Unfortunately, they were both dead. Finally, Vickie realized she had been getting high everyday since her daughter, Vonshay, graduated from Ferguson High and left for a summer program at Tougaloo College, the school she planned to attend in the fall. Vickie was proud of her daughter. Vonshay had graduated from high school with a 3.8 grade point average, and an academic scholarship to college. She was well-mannered,