Giving birth had been a seven-hour ordeal of back splitting, Alex-this-is-your-damn-fault, intense pain. Pain that she hoped would be easier with the next child, because she and Alex planned on having at least two more. Karen marveled at the rhythmic rise and fall of her daughter’s tiny chest. It was her turn to be a mama now. She remembered the feeling that overtook her the moment she held Alexia in her arms. She’d never experienced anything as incredible or powerful as the devotion and love she felt for her child. There in the delivery room with Alex beaming proudly beside her and their six-pound baby girl in her arms, she understood the passion with which she’d heard women say they would die for their children. As Alexia cried in her arms, she knew she would do the same.
Karen sighed.
She missed her mother and wished that she had tried to prolong her time amongst them. Since the dinner, Karen, Jeff, and Monica all tried to convince their mother to do just that. But despite their pleas, Jean refused. She wanted to use whatever strength she had left to help Karen through the pregnancy. Chemotherapy and other treatments would have robbed her of that chance by leaving her weak and bedridden.
Even with that, the siblings remained persistent and without their mother’s knowledge, paid a visit to Dr. Johnson’s office to see if there was something their mother could have taken that would slow the leukemia down and leave her with strength.
Karen and Monica had to make the trip back to North Carolina, but they didn’t mind. There in the doctor’s office, the three siblings had the same question.
“Dr. Johnson, is there anything that can be done to keep our mother alive?”
The doctor regretfully shook his head. “I wish I could say that there was, but unfortunately your mother’s leukemia is too far advanced.”
The siblings didn’t respond for a few seconds. They’d all hoped for a different answer, though they knew the possibility would be slim. Jeff cleared his throat and slid forward in his seat.
“Doctor, we’ve all done a lot of research on our mother’s CLL, and we know that if we can’t do anything to get rid of it, there are at least special treatments or medicinal combinations that can be tried to slow its progression down.”
The doctor nodded his head. “You’re correct, there are. And I’ve tried to get your mother to listen to the different options. But she made it perfectly clear to me that she didn’t want to explore any of them, and honestly, I think she made the right decision.”
Karen spoke this time. “Doctor, as you can see, I’m pregnant. My baby will be our mama’s first grandchild, and we’d all like for her to be present when he or she is born. I don’t see how her not trying something ... anything to live longer is the wrong decision.”
Dr. Johnson leaned forward on his elbows and formed a steeple with his fingers. “I lost my mother to lung cancer a couple of years ago. My mother smoked two, almost three packs a day religiously for as long as I can remember. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she smoked a couple while giving birth to me.” He paused and smiled at his joke. “Anyway, when she found out about the cancer, just like your mother, it was in its very advanced stages. It had actually spread beyond her lungs to other areas of her body.
“Like you all, I wanted my mother to live. I wanted her to see my children grow up and have children of their own that she could possibly get to know. And just like I told you all, I was told by her doctor, that the cancer was so advanced that any treatments she would undergo would have a very slim chance of being effective. But despite the doctor’s advice, I still convinced my mother to try radiation therapy. And just like the doctor said, it didn’t work.”
“But at least she tried,” Karen interjected.
The doctor nodded. “Yes she did, but you know what? There is not one day that I don’t regret my persistence.”
“Why?” Monica asked.
“My mother suffered to get better. The radiation that was supposed to help, crippled her body and spirit far worse than the cancer ever did or could.”
He paused, reflecting on the memory of his mother’s pain.
“I watched my mother lose her hair. I was helpless as days went by where she couldn’t move, couldn’t eat, could barely speak. Sleeping was her only comfort and even that had been laborious for her. Now I know that you all want to do whatever is in your power to keep Mama Blige alive for as long as possible. And believe me, I would like for that to happen too. But I have to be honest. I think she made the right decision in declining the treatments. She is dying. She is going to die. I know that seems harsh to say it so bluntly, but it’s the only way to say it because it’s the truth. And believe me when I tell you that for Mama Blige’s sake, you have to accept that. Because if you don’t, you will continue to do just what you are doing now—lose time trying to prolong a life that will end. Believe it or not, there is a positive to this ordeal.”
“And what would that be doctor?” Jeff asked.
“Mama Blige is not dead yet. Go and enjoy the time that you have with her now.”
After leaving the doctor’s office, though it was hard, Karen did just as the doctor had suggested and enjoyed her time with her mother. She took a hiatus from the show and enjoyed days with her mother, enjoying all of the sights Baltimore and Washington, DC had to offer. Jean helped Karen endure what had been a difficult pregnancy, and along with Alex, with whom she had become very fond of, made sure her daughter’s needs were taken care. Although she herself had been in great pain and at times extremely weak, she refused to allow Karen to go overboard with anything.
At times Karen actually became frustrated over all of the fawning. “I’m pregnant, not handicapped!” she would say.
Jean would simply ignore her cries and continue doing her thing. She wanted to see her grandchild before she passed, and if that meant that she would have to continue to treat Karen as though she were crippled, then so be it.
For all of the whining Karen did, she truly didn’t mind her mother’s fawning. When Alexia was born, both Jean and Alex were in the delivery room.
Karen had grown accustomed to her mother’s presence, as they’d grown closer than they had ever been. With a newfound respect for the things her mother had said and done, she’d seen a side of her mother she never knew existed, and she was proud.
She’d only spoken to her father once after the dinner.
He’d called to check on her to make sure she was okay. The telephone conversation lasted only fifteen minutes. Weeks after Jean’s birthday dinner, a twenty-five-yearold member of the church claimed Stewart to be the father of her three-month-old baby boy. As much as he wanted to, Stewart couldn’t deny the child’s spitting image.
Ashamed and embarrassed, he stepped down as minister of the congregation and distanced himself further from his family. He wasn’t present when Alexia was born, and Karen didn’t see him until her mother’s funeral, which consisted of only the immediate family, because that’s how Jean wanted it. Stewart came to pay his respects and say his final good-bye to his wife who kept her vow, but severed all other ties.
Jean wanted her last months to be her happiest, and they had been. She’d reconciled with her children and she’d seen the new addition to the family tree. What more could she have asked for?
Karen blew Alexia a kiss and smiled. She’d signed a contract with TBS and her talk show was now televised nationally. Add to that her adorable baby girl, a husband to whom she knew she would grow old with, and a mother who would always watch over her; it was easy for her to say that she was blessed.
Standing in the doorway, Alex stood silently watching her. With the reconciliation with her mother, Karen was finally truly happy, and that made Alex feel good, because in his mind, his wife deserved nothing less. He too missed having his mother-in-law around. She’d become his true second mother, nagging and complaining whenever she felt the need. And like any good grandmother, she also made it her job to help keep Miguel in line. Alex never had to go to court for full custody over Miguel. A couple of months
before Alexia’s birth, Mariah and Sergio were involved in another head-on collision. Again, they had both been drinking, but unlike the last time, they both died.
Alex cleared his throat softly to announce his presence. Karen turned around and smiled at her man.
“Hey beautiful,” Alex said, quietly walking into the room.
“Hey yourself, handsome,” Karen whispered, welcoming the kiss he planted on her lips. “How was work?”
Alex passed his hand through his hair. “Too long and filled with too many idiots. But it’s nice being back on my normal schedule though.”
“Yes it is,” Karen agreed. “I was getting tired of not having my man next to me at night.”
They hugged and then Alex leaned over the bassinet to see his daughter. “And how is my Alexia?”
“Sleeping—finally,” Karen answered. “And please let’s keep it that way. That little girl is definitely your daughter. Geez, can she whine.”
Alex laughed softly. “I’ll show you whining,” he said patting her behind. “Where’s Miguel?”
“He’s spending the night at his friend’s from school.”
“Good. I was a little worried about how Mariah’s death was going to affect him.”
“Yeah, I was too. It was rough on him at first, but he’s a tough kid. It’s a slow process, but he really seems to be adjusting to life without her.”
“Well you and Mama Blige had a lot to do with that.”
“More my mama,” Karen said softly. “You know ... I really miss her. I never thought I would ever say that. It’s amazing, but that one dinner seemed to erase everything that had been wrong and made it all right. My mama did that,” Karen said proudly.
“She was a strong and special woman,” Alex said.
“Yes she was. I only hope I can be half as strong for Alexia, as she was for us.”
“Well you won’t have the same type of issues to deal with, but believe me, you are already plenty strong.”
“I love you, Alex,” Karen said throwing her arms around his neck.
“And I love you, Karen.”
They kissed gently for a few seconds before they were interrupted by Alexia’s crying. They looked at one another and laughed. Karen patted Alex’s behind. “I’ve had her all day. Go do your thing, papi.”
30
Monica stared at the phone in her hand and wondered if she would be able to make the call. Lord knows she wanted to over the past six months, but she wasn’t ready. At least not as ready as she knew she needed to be. Her mother told her to wait and give her heart time to heal. Then, if it had healed enough, she could make the call.
“But how will I know when it’s healed enough, Mama?” she’d asked.
“When you can no longer stand bein’ without him.”
Monica took her mother’s advice seriously. After the events unfolded, Monica had come to understand, admit, and appreciate that there was much about life that she still had to learn, and that there was no one better than her mother to learn from.
Monica had come to respect her mother like never before. She watched her mother fight and eventually lose her battle with the leukemia. She came to admire her strength, as her mother lived her life until the very end, never allowing the disease to get the best of her. Monica cried an endless stream of tears the day her mother died. In a very short span of time, her mother had become her teacher and her friend. And thanks to the Lord’s mysterious ways of working, because of Bryce’s mistake, mother and daughter shared a special bond of understanding and solidarity.
When the casket was lowered into the ground, Monica knew then that she was ready to call Bryce. Jean had known all along that she would, because she knew what real love was and how strong its power could be. And she knew it existed between Monica and Bryce.
Monica wiped a teardrop from her eye as an image of her mother appeared in her mind. She sighed and hit the talk button on the phone. Her mother had said to give Bryce a chance.
She dialed his number.
Bryce, who’d been miserable and lonely since leaving Monica in tears, checked the caller ID before answering the phone. When he saw who was calling, his heart beat heavily. He’d been praying for this call. He took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then let it out slowly and answered the phone on the second ring. “Hello?” he said calming the excitement in his voice.
Monica took a deep breath. “Hello, Bryce.”
Bryce smiled at the sound of her voice. “Hello ba ... Monica,” he said quietly. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been good. How have you been?” God, his voice, she thought. Had it ever sounded sexier?
“I’m good ... now. I’ve missed you.”
Monica smiled but resisted the urge to tell him how much she’d been missing him too, and how she longed for him, his touch, and his company. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Not at all. I heard about Mama Blige. I’m very sorry. I wanted to come to the funeral, but I heard it was just for the family.” His voice trailed off. He never thought he would have been on the outside of that circle. Monica wiped another tear away. Alex had told her he’d spoken to Bryce. Despite the breakup with Monica, he and Alex had remained close friends. At the funeral, Monica had prayed that Bryce would show up.
“At least she went peacefully,” she said.
“Yeah. I heard she got to see Alexia before she passed.”
Monica nodded her head and beamed. “Yeah. The Lord definitely granted her last couple of wishes.”
There was a long pause then as they both struggled with what to say next. Bryce wanted to apologize again for what he’d done, how he’d hurt her, but because he didn’t want to bring any negativity into the conversation, he remained silent.
Monica had a question that she wanted to ask, but she just didn’t want to know the answer. But she had to know. And she wanted Bryce to tell her, which is why she never brought up the topic with Alex. She hesitated, knowing that whatever happened from this point, hinged on the answer that he would give. For a split second she regretted calling.
“How does it feel to be a father?” she finally asked. Her heart beat thunderously as she waited for Bryce’s response.
Bryce opened his eyes wide. “A father? Didn’t Alex tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
Bryce squeezed his eyes tightly, bit down on his lip and smiled. “I’m not a father. The baby wasn’t mine.” He left it at that and didn’t mention that Nicole had been fooling around with another coworker. She’d hoped that the baby would be Bryce’s, but she was never sure. Bryce’s boss apologized and gave him a raise for the stress his daughter had cost him. It was also given with the understanding that Bryce would not pursue anything legally.
Goose bumps rose from Monica’s skin. He wasn’t a father. She pulled the phone away from her ear, covered her face with her hands, and cried tears of relief. Bryce heard her through the receiver. He knew then that he hadn’t lost her.
Monica cried for several seconds more and then came back on the line.
“Bryce?” she said, her lips quivering, her voice a soft whisper.
“Yes, baby?”
“Come over.”
Bryce looked up to the ceiling and mouthed a thank you. “Fill the bathtub,” he said. He hung up the phone and got up to get dressed. Now that his prayers had been answered, he would make his second chance count.
31
Jeff stood with his hands clasped behind his back and stared out of the window, which was being reprimanded heavily by rainfall. The dreary weather reflected the mood he’d been in since finding out Sherry had been playing him. He’d been nothing more than a tool designed to make her ex-boyfriend jealous. He wanted to be angry with her for her deceit, but he couldn’t. When he showed up at Sherry’s house back from his business conference a week early, and caught her straddled over her ex in her swimming pool, moaning with pleasure, he did nothing but ponder the irony of his life. What he’d spread around had finally
come back around. Jeff laughed and without disturbing the two, walked away from Sherry. God had finally given him his just desserts.
But his lack of anger didn’t stop him from being hurt. He’d let his guard down and he had paid for it as he always feared he would. But in spite of it all, he knew that he would not rebuild the wall. Love was out there for him somewhere. And it would come in its due time. Perhaps from the attractive sister he’d met at the conference.
Jeff had his mother to thank for his new outlook on life and love. In the time she had left before her death, she made sure that her bond with her children was the strongest it could be. She was especially determined to get to know her son, with whom she’d had the most strained relationship.
Jeff was glad for the time he and his mother had. Before her passing, he’d come to truly understand how much of a gift life was. And he realized that love was a delicate and priceless miracle. And thanks to his sisters and his mother, he came to understand and appreciate the strength, determination, and beauty of a black woman.
Jeff turned away from the gloom outside and faced his father, who lay in the hospital bed, weak and dying. After the sermon he’d given the day after the birthday dinner, Stewart began to drink himself to sleep every night in his empty house. As strong as his faith was, he was still a normal man. The emotional abuse he’d caused his family had finally come to a head, and he lost his wife not once, but twice. To make matters worse, a church member came to him with a son that he couldn’t deny even if he’d wanted to. One night, the weight from the stress and pain had become too much for him to bear, and he had a stroke. Had Jeff not come by to visit that evening, he would have died.
Jeff stared down at his father. He thought about his days as a child and how much he’d respected and looked up to him. Part of the man Jeff had become, he’d owed to his father. And while he had qualities he wasn’t always proud of, Jeff could not deny that his father had done a hell of a job.
If It Isn't Love Page 15