She walked aimlessly. The sound of honking horns from the heavy traffic on Peachtree sounded like roars in her ears. She had nowhere to go. Her mother in Alabama was still in recovery. She couldn’t add the weight of this news to her mother’s burden.
Her feet carried her to Centennial Olympic Park. She sat on one of the empty benches, staring at the skyline. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since morning.
Ironically, all around her, the restaurant patios were coming alive. The aroma of barbecue ribs, fried catfish, and waffle cones floated in the air, making her stomach ache even more. People laughed. Young Black couples walked hand in hand.
Zelica felt like a ghost, invisible, non-existent.
She opened the wallet Quacy had thrown at her. Inside was about ten dollars in cash, not even enough for a night in a cheap motel on the outskirts.
She pulled out her phone. Battery at 5%.
She rushed to open the mobile banking app for their joint account. Balance: zero.
Quacy had cleaned her out, draining every dollar they had together, which also included the savings Zelica had before getting married.
A cold, heavy despair wrapped around her. It was over. She was truly at rock bottom. She would be homeless tonight.
Tears fell without making a sound.
She looked down at the contents of her wallet again. Behind the card slot was a faded photo, a picture of her father. Her father, Tendai Okafor, a simple tobacco farmer and merchant who died ten years ago just before Zelica married Quacy.
And behind that photo was something else.
Zelica’s trembling fingers pulled it out. A faded blue debit card that was already peeling at the edges. The logo was barely legible: Heritage Trust of the South, a small old regional bank.
Zelica was stunned. She remembered now that her father had given her this card when she was seventeen, back when she was moving out for the first time to go to college at Spelman.
“Keep this, my baby girl,” her father had said back then, using a loving tone. His voice was soft but firm. “This is an account Papa created for you. Never use it unless it is absolutely necessary. Don’t mix it with money for your expenses. Imagine it doesn’t exist.”
“How much is in it, Papa?” she had asked curiously.
Her father just smiled mysteriously.
