Black Love

by Brenda Hampton

  “Say, baby,” I said. “Why don’t you slow down? You’re going to kill us—” I paused again, especially when she snapped her head to the side, displaying a peculiar look.

  “Huh?” she said with wrinkles lining her forehead. “What?”

  I repeated myself because she hadn’t slowed down yet and her eyes weren’t on the road.

  “I said, slow down. Ease up on the accelerator. If you look straight ahead, there is a truck on the left side of the road that is going to tear you up, if you run that red light. In case you didn’t notice, you already ran the red light back there.”

  Without saying a word, Monai lifted her foot from the accelerator. She slammed on the brakes as she neared the red light, causing the car to skid. As the truck passed by her, the direction of her eyes followed the driver who winked at her. She took a deep breath and drove the speed limit the rest of the way home.

  Monai went inside with her head hanging low. The inside of her house was dark and messy. Trash was piled up in two trashcans, several blankets were on the floor, drinking glasses were on the table, and the smell was nothing pretty. She made her way into the kitchen and looked around. Dishes were piled in the sink; I had never seen the floor so filthy.

  “Do me a favor,” I said. “Pull the drapes back and let the sunshine come in. Clean up too, baby. You don’t have to live like this.”

  With a puzzled look on her face, she looked around again. She didn’t say a word, but after she put some leftover chicken in the microwave, she laughed.

  “I must be crazy or something, because your cologne is potent in here,” she said. “Humph.”

  My cologne is not what I smelled, especially with stinky trash boiling over the trashcan.

  The microwave beeped, and after she removed the plate of chicken, she sat at the table to eat. I sat across from her, admiring her beauty and not saying a word.

  She chewed the chicken while staring out of the window behind me. A slow tear dripped from the corner of her eye, causing her to wipe it. She then looked at her ring, and as she coughed and covered her mouth, she forced herself to swallow the food.

  “You’re pregnant,” I said. “Do you or don’t you know already?”

  Right when I’d made her aware of the news, she held her stomach. She rushed to the bathroom and started throwing up in the toilet. Most of it was fluids. She hadn’t been eating much lately, and the chicken, obviously, made her sick.

  After she wiped her mouth with a wet towel, she went into the bedroom. She changed into her pajamas and lay across the bed while resting her hands and head on a pillow. A remote was in her hand, but instead of turning on the TV, she clicked on some soft music by Maxwell. It was one of my favorite songs that we used to dance to, made love to and even cleaned up around the house as it played. Monai hummed the words and then lay on her back. Yet again, she looked at her ring and smiled. She remained in deep thought, until I got on the bed and lay next to her. I softly whispered in her ear, hoping she could hear me.

  “I have a confession to make. I never told you that my real name was Nathaniel, not Nate. I hated that name, but I was named after my father. So, just so you know, you are Mrs. Nathaniel Keith Reynolds. Continue to call me Nate, but always remember who you really are.”

  There was no response from Monai. All she did was widen her smile.

  Monai

  Chapter Six

  I was starting to feel slightly better. That was until I went to the doctor yesterday and was informed I was pregnant. I was crushed. My tears were back, and yet again, I kept asking why me? Since I was eight weeks pregnant, there was no question in my mind that the baby was Nate’s. Any other time I would’ve been happy about this. I would’ve jumped for joy, and I could only imagine myself sharing the good news with him. Unfortunately, the only thing I could think about was whether or not I should keep the baby. I paced the floor in my living room, thinking hard about my situation. It seemed so unfair to Nate, and how would I ever be able to tell our child the real reason why he was dead?

  I plopped down on the sofa and rubbed my face with my hands. My eyes were closed; I released a deep breath to try and calm myself.

  “Don’t you dare do it,” I heard someone say. “How could you sit there and even give this a second thought?”

  My eyes popped open. A frown appeared on my face, and as I looked around the room, as usual, no one was there. I’d been hearing voices lately. More often since Nate’s death. I questioned if I had been going crazy, especially since I’d been cooped up in my house. I rarely went anywhere anymore. Felt like I was hiding from something or someone. Maybe his mother. I still hadn’t called her; too ashamed to face her after what I’d done. Maybe the voices I’d heard were simply my second thoughts. Maybe I had been thinking about all of this too much, but day by day, the voices started to become more loud and clearer.

  Shaking it off, I sat back on the sofa and pressed my foot against the coffee table in front of me. There was a magazine next to me. I started to flip through it, pausing when I saw a Pampers’ ad with the cutest little girl in it, playing with her mother. I smiled at the ad, before flipping the pages again. When I was done viewing the magazine, I closed it and placed it on the table. My bladder was full, so I headed to the bathroom to pee. I washed my hands, and then I went to the kitchen to pour a glass of orange juice. With the glass in my hand, I returned to the living room. I sat on the sofa again, and as I reached for the remote to turn on the TV, my eyes shifted to the magazine on the table. It was wide open. Not only open, but the advertising page with the mother and baby in it was on display. Startled, my heart raced and the glass of orange juice slipped from my hand. It crashed on the hardwood floor, glass shattered everywhere. Juice ran in several directions. I rushed toward the kitchen to get a paper towel, but halted my steps when I’d heard the voice again.

  “Please don’t do it, okay? I always knew you would be a good mother, and you have to be there for our daughter. Just so you know, it’s a girl.”

  This time, the voice was loud and clear. I stood and didn’t move. My heart slammed against my chest, my mouth was wide open.

  “Nate?” I questioned softly as I looked around the room. “Wha . . . Where are you? Is that you?”

  There was no response. I stood fearful for, at least, five long minutes and didn’t move. My chest rose and fell; it was difficult for me to swallow the huge lump I felt lodged in my throat. I was afraid. Afraid that I was going crazy and fearful that I would make the wrong decision about the baby. This was probably just a sign. Maybe God was trying to reach out to me. I slowly released another deep breath, before going into the kitchen to get some paper towels. I cleaned up the mess I’d made, and as I started to watch TV, I kept looking around the room. Yet again, I kept smelling Nate’s cologne. Maybe I wanted him to be here with me so badly, I actually thought he was. I chuckled a bit at my foolishness and continued to watch TV. It wasn’t until I shut down for the night, when something weird happened. I had just taken a shower, gotten comfortable in bed, and I reached over to the lamp to turn it off. I fluffed my pillow, and the second I laid my head on it, I felt a tickle near my ear. His words were clear, once again.

  “Say, beautiful. I want you to go see my mother.”

  I quickly sat up and turned on the light. My head shifted from left to right; I placed my hand over my chest because my heart was racing again. My brows were scrunched inward. I didn’t want to say anything, because a huge part of me was starting to feel like I needed to see a psychiatrist.

  “You’re not crazy,” Nate said. “And there is no reason for you to be afraid.”

  This time, I scurried off the bed and turned on more lights in my bedroom. I searched around the room with wide eyes.

  “Nate?” I whispered.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  I paused for a moment, only because he’d actually replied to me. “Is . . . Is that you?”

  “Yes.”

  “We . . . Where are you and how long hav
e you been here?”

  “I’m on the bed. I’ve been here since you came to my gravesite to get me. You did marry me, didn’t you?”

  I didn’t think my eyes could get any wider, but they did. I eased my arms around my midsection to comfort myself. This couldn’t be happening, I thought. He couldn’t be on my bed, if he was supposed to be dead. Besides, I couldn’t see him. I wanted to see him, because I felt like this was some kind of joke. I wondered who would play a cruel joke on me like this.

  “I . . . Is this a joke? Who is doing this? Show yourself right now or else I’ll call the police.”

  “That would be a waste of time. You’ll probably get arrested or sent to a mental institution or something. That’s the last place you need to be, especially since you’re pregnant.”

  I had heard it all. No one knew I was pregnant but me and my doctor. My thoughts were all over the place. If Nate was really here, only he could answer specific questions about me.

  “If it’s really you, what’s my favorite ice cream?”

  “Black Walnut.”

  “Favorite restaurant.”

  “Chipotle, of course. Where we met.”

  “My mother’s name?”

  “Porsha.”

  “What about the only dog that I ever had. What was his name?”

  “His name was Joe. He got hit by a car, and after he died you never wanted another dog again.”

  I stared at the bed, before dropping to my knees. I couldn’t believe I was actually talking to Nate. How in the hell was this happening? Had God really answered my prayers? I knew anything was possible, but this was a bit much.

  I held my waist again while rocking back and forth on my knees. I was at a loss for words, and yet again, I thought I was dreaming. I wanted to say so much to him. I still had so much to say, but would he really answer me again? Why wasn’t he saying anything now?

  “I know you’re confused and you’re in a lot of pain,” he said. “But I’m here. There’s no need to keep crying, and you don’t have to be sad because I’m okay.”

  I lifted my head and looked at the bed where there was no one there. “You can’t be okay. I saw what happened to you. I witnessed everything, Nate, and you didn’t look okay to me.”

  “I wasn’t okay then, but I am now. Trust me on this, okay? And let’s not spend our time talking about that day. Let’s talk about our baby and about my mother. She needs to hear from you.”

  With sadness in my eyes, I continued to keep my eyes fixed on the bed. “I guess you think I should keep the baby, huh? And as for your mother, I’m too ashamed to go see her. I don’t know what to say to her. I know she blames me for what happened.”

  There was a long pause before I’d heard anything. The next thing Nate said was, “Come here. Come sit on the bed.”

  I slowly got off the floor and made my way over to the bed. As I slowly sat down, I touched the area around me to see if I could feel him.

  “Where are you?” I asked. “Are you a ghost?”

  “No and please don’t refer to me as one. This isn’t none of that Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore stuff, okay. It’s deeper than that, and you’ll soon know what I mean. I’m right next to you. You can’t feel me and you can’t sit on me, which is a shame.”

  I smiled at his joke, and no matter how weird this felt, I was real comfortable on the bed.

  “Now, getting back to the baby and my mother,” he said. “Of course I think you should keep our baby. Nothing else needs to be said about that subject because you will keep her. And my mother will understand. She’s upset, but that’s because she thinks you didn’t care. I want her to know you did.”

  I slowly nodded my head. “I’ll go tomorrow. Maybe I do need to get out of here and you know I’ve been taking this real hard. I’m so sorry about . . .”

  “I know you are. You don’t have to keep saying it, okay? I forgive you. At the end of the day, it was just my time to go.”

  In no way did I believe it was his time to go so I sat silent. I then scooted back on the bed and sat against the headboard. I wasn’t sure if Nate had moved too, so I asked him.

  “Yes. I’m sitting next to you, holding your hand. I know this has been a lot for you to swallow, so why don’t you get some rest. Lay your head on my shoulder and get some sleep tonight, please. In the morning, I’ll help you clean up and you can finally open the drapes.”

  “It is pretty messy around here, isn’t it? Tomorrow, though, okay? I’ll clean up, but I’m not expecting help from you. This is on me.”

  Nate laughed. I certainly didn’t know how to position my head on his shoulder, but I tried. When I felt comfortable, I closed my eyes, wishing that I could feel his touch for real. I couldn’t, but for now, this was good enough for me.

  Monai

  Chapter Seven

  I got up early the next morning, cleaning my house until it was spotless. With the curtains open, the bright sunrays came in and made my house feel like home again. Rap music blasted through the intercom, and as I stood by the sink washing dishes, I couldn’t stop thinking about last night.

  “This looks much better,” Nate said.

  Startling me, I jumped and dropped a cup in the soapy water. “I’m glad you appreciate my hard work. And thanks for encouraging me to liven up my place again. I don’t know why I let it get so filthy. I’m embarrassed that you had to see it like this, and why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

  “Timing,” he said. “I didn’t want to frighten you, and I knew you would have a lot of questions for me. The last thing I wanted to discuss was cleaning up your house.”

  I placed the dishrag on the counter and looked to my right. “Are you on my right or left?”

  “I’m on the right side.”

  “Good. So you don’t mind me asking how I’m able to talk to you like this. This is so weird, Nate, and I’m very confused. I’ve been thinking about it all morning. I don’t know if I should be happy or afraid. You say I shouldn’t be afraid, but you have to know that I’ve never heard of anything like this happening to people.”

  “It happens a lot, but maybe there are reasons that people don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want you worry, and the last thing you should be is afraid. Trust me, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I trusted Nate, so I left our conversation right there. Besides, I had to hurry up and change clothes so I could go to the train station and head to Chicago. I wasn’t looking forward to conversing with his mother, but eventually, I had to confront her.

  Several hours later, I was finally in Chicago. I rented a car and stopped to get a quick bite to eat, before going to Nate’s mother’s house. He and I had been talking the entire time, but he told me not to mention any of our conversations to his mother. He didn’t want to alarm her; he also didn’t want her to think I was crazy. In his opinion, spending time trying to explain this would be a waste of time. Instead, he wanted me to comfort her. Get closer to her and let her know about the baby. News about the baby would surely please her heart; he was sure of it.

  With my clutch purse in my hand, a yellow blouse and jean capris on, I climbed the stairs leading to Mrs. Reynolds’ front door. I was nervous as ever, but I could feel Nate by my side. He kept telling me to relax, and when I stepped to the door and knocked, I took a deep breath and released it.

  “Who is it?” Vivian questioned without opening the door.

  I cleared my throat before answering. “It’s Monai, Mrs. Reynolds. I would like to speak to you, if you don’t mind.”

  There was silence before I heard her remove the chain from the door. I then heard the door unlock. She opened it with no smile, whatsoever, on her face. A screen door was in between us; she peered at me from the other side.

  “Speak to me about what?” she asked in a sharp tone.

  “About Nate.”

  “Nate isn’t here anymore. I assume you already know that.”

  “I do. But if you allow me to come inside, I would like to explain to you w
hat really happened that night. Everything you’ve heard isn’t accurate. I just want to make sure you know the truth.”

  She opened the screen door and let me inside. Just like the previous times I’d visited with Nate, Vivian’s house was spotless. Her furniture was a bit old fashioned and antiques were everywhere. But the hardwood floors had a Mr. Clean shine where I saw a clear reflection of myself. Knitting was her hobby, so there was a beautiful quilt over the sofa and one on a reclining chair she often sat in throughout the day while watching TV. The insurance money she’d gotten from her husband’s death, and from his pension, was enough for her to retire early. She traveled a lot, and as young as she still looked for a sixty-four-year-old woman, I admired her.

  “Have a seat,” she said politely. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  I sat on the sofa and placed my purse next to me. “A glass of milk would be fine, if you have some.”

  She nodded and walked off. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back into a ponytail, displaying her round face that resembled Nate’s. He definitely had her slanted eyes, and her brown skin appeared just as flawless as his did. She had a pointed nose like his, but there was still no question that Nate resembled his father the most.

  I looked around the room, wondering where Nate was. He was awfully quiet, but I knew he was there because I could smell his cologne.

  “Are you there?” I whispered.

  “Yes. I’m in the chair by the fireplace. Just looking around and thinking, that’s all.”

  “I didn’t think she was going to let me come inside. Can you tell if she’s mad at me?”

  Just then, Vivian came into the room with a glass of milk in her hand. “Did you say something?” she asked. “I thought I heard you say something.”