by Dara Girard
Brianna shrugged. "Just some guy."
Her sister had said the same thing years ago and likely her mother, Rita, had too. The men were always nameless and faceless. They were 'just some guy'. Greta knew there was no use scolding her. She'd tried to encourage her niece to get a college degree and choose a different path. She had even offered to pay her tuition. She'd wanted more for her niece, but Brianna was now a grown woman who could make her own choices. There was going to be another generation of the same. At least she'd waited until she was in her twenties, but Greta knew that raising a baby alone would still be a struggle. Greta turned from Brianna and looked at her sister. At that moment she felt she'd failed them both.
"How is she?" Rita asked coming into the room with a scruffy looking man close behind her.
Greta stood and looked at the man. "This is family only. You need to leave."
"I told them that he was my husband."
"That's a laugh, since you've never had one." Greta pointed to the man. "Go."
"She's in a mood," Rita said. She kissed the man. "See you later. Wait for me in the lounge." She waved him goodbye, then walked over to the bed. "How long will she have to stay?"
"She shouldn't even be in here," Greta said in a tight voice.
Rita shrugged. "It's not my fault she couldn't stay clean."
"You should have been looking out for her."
"How was I supposed to know what she was doing?"
"You know the signs, but you didn’t care. She was doing great before you decided to leech off of her."
"I'm her mother."
"You don't know the meaning of the word. Did your new boyfriend try to jack off on her again? Or maybe he was the one who got her back on drugs?"
"How come you're always blaming me? What about her?" She pointed to Brianna. "She got herself knocked up and that flipped Marlene out. She didn't know how she was going to handle another mouth to feed. She didn't want to call you because she didn't want to disappoint you. Where were you? How come you never stopped by our place?"
"I've been traveling for my job and dealing with my house repairs."
Rita rested a hand on her hip. "You just wanted to forget about us. That's all. You've got money. Why did you force Marlene to get a job and a place of her own?"
"I didn’t force her to do anything. That's what she wanted."
"No, that's what you wanted. You wanted us out of your hair and you got it."
"No. Let me clarify. Marlene's over forty. It's time she stood on her own two feet."
"Right," Rita said with a sneer. "Because you know what's right for us. You were, no are, always telling us what to do. None of us can live up to your standards. "
Greta threw up her hands. Blame, blame, blame. It was always her fault. She was always failing them somehow and maybe her mother was right. "You're right. I'm done. I can't do this anymore. I won't tell you what to do anymore. I'm gone." Greta knew things were never going to change. Her niece would have her baby, maybe more. Her mother would continue having her men, and her sister would continue her struggle with drugs.
"That's right. Walk out on us. Your family. You are such a loser. You always wanted to get rid of us."
Greta glared at Rita. "No, just you."
***
When she got in her car, Greta was too tired to cry. She didn't even cry on her drive home. She knew she couldn't just walk away from her sister, but she had to get away for awhile. She paused when she saw Vance's car in her driveway. She parked and shook her head when he got out.
"Not now," she said walking to her front door.
"Tera--"
Greta put her key in the lock. "I can't talk right now."
"What's going on?"
She spun around and faced him. "I can't see you anymore. Not because I don't want to be with you, but because I can't. My life will poison you. It's too much. It's too ugly. My family will suck the very life out of you and I don’t want that to happen. I can't, no, I won't expose you and your daughter to what I have to deal with."
He shook his head. "I can face anything."
"Really?" Her voice cracked. "Can you face finding your sister half naked, in a coma, on a filthy floor in a crack house? Can you deal with your mother, who’s now in her late-fifties, sleeping with another man you know won't last a year? Your niece is expecting a baby, after getting pregnant by ‘some guy’ looking to you for support? You've never had to face things like this and you shouldn't have to.
"Right now my sister is lying in the intensive care unit in a hospital bed, recovering from a drug overdose, with a whole bunch of tubes coming in and out of her. She'd been clean for months and my mother’s is blaming me." She brushed tears aside, struggling against a wave of exhaustion that threatened to topple her. "I can't win with them. No matter how hard I try, I always fail."
"That's not true."
"Please, Vance." Her voice broke with misery. She seized the front of his shirt, held them in her fists and held his gaze, determined to make him understand. "I love you." She laughed bitterly. "I never thought I'd say that to a man, but I do." She rested her forehead against his chest, inhaling his scent and gaining strength from his presence. "I love you and I will not expose someone I love to this life." She reluctantly released her hold and met his eyes again. "Never." She turned to her door and opened it. "Things will never change, they will only get worse." She walked inside and then faced him, icy despair twisting her heart. "Goodbye." She started to close the door.
Vance stopped her with an intensity that surprised her. "I'm not saying goodbye."
"We have to."
"No, we don't. I don't care if things get worse." He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "How come you feel responsible for taking care of everybody else, but won't let anyone take care of you? If you really love me, then you'll let me love you."
Greta hung her head, walked over to her couch and sat down. "I'm so tired and worn and broken. How can you love that?"
Vance sat down beside her and gathered her in his arms. "You're not broken, and if you're tired, then let me hold you up. Don't shut me out."
She looked up at him with hot tears burning her eyes. "I'd rather push you away than have you walk out on me. My grandmother couldn't cope. My mother, and my family are--"
"Not you. You've done well for yourself and you should be proud. I am. Nothing's going to tear me from your side."
Greta allowed herself to sink into the safety of his embrace and closed her eyes finally surrendering to the weight of her exhaustion. "And I don't want to let you go. Can you stay with me tonight?"
"I want to stay with you every night," Vance said, his voice deep and steady. "Will you let me?"
She nodded.
"You know what I'm asking you, right?"
Greta nodded again, and managed a smile. "I can feel your heart racing. Does the thought of marrying me make you that nervous?"
"No, it makes me extremely happy. The thought of spending the rest of my life with you...I can't put into words how I feel."
"I know," she whispered, then drifted off to sleep
***
Vance held a sleeping Greta in his arms, remembering their first night together months ago when he'd gotten a flat tire and she'd been attacked. She'd fallen asleep on his shoulder then, and he'd felt a sense of possessiveness that had surprised him. Now, the feeling was only stronger. He felt right, as if he were home.
She reminded him of his father. His father was a lot like Greta. Burdened by the need to be the savior to his large family in Ghana, but never feeling he was doing enough. He'd given hundreds of thousands of dollars to them over the years and Vance had just thought he was simple and foolish. He now understood it was more complicated. The bounds of family love and guilt all wrapped up together, creating chaos and uncertainty and strain in many people’s lives. Especially for people like Greta, and his dad. For the first time in his life he was able to see his father in a new light, no longer as someone who was weak--b
ut someone with integrity and his own sense of moral obligation.
He looked forward to introducing her to him. He didn't want her to feel alone. She had a new family now.
Chapter Eighteen
"A drug addict?" his mother said outraged. You're going to marry a woman whose sister's a drug addict. Whose mother's a slut and whose niece is the same?"
Vance had called his father to discuss the problem with Greta but his father had insisted on having a family meeting instead. It was a tradition Vance hated, but couldn't avoid. Vance sat in his parents’ fashionable living room and faced his mother, father, brother, daughter and sister-in-law. "Getting pregnant doesn't make you a slut," he said.
"With their kind, there's no distinction," his mother said. "Does she even know who the father is?" his mother asked.
Vance looked at his father then his mother. "I asked for your help not your judgment."
"He's right," his father said. "She will be family soon and it is our duty--"
"Don't talk to me about duty," his mother snapped. "I love you, but 'duty' is what nearly destroyed us. I won't see that happen again." She looked at Vance. "Why should we help them? This just proves that you should have stayed with Sylvie. She didn't have all this drama and baggage. This Tera person just sees you as a meal ticket."
Kojo shook his head. "No, she doesn't and if we can help her I think we should."
His mother softened her tone. "You're so generous. I know you don't know how to be any other way. However, I'd expected more from your brother."
"Uncle is right," Crystal said. "I want to help too."
"Why haven't we met her yet?" his father asked.
"Dad was embarrassed," Crystal said.
Vance narrowed his eyes. "I was never embarrassed."
"Why would he be?" his father asked.
Crystal searched for words. "Because she's a bit...dowdy."
"Not anymore," Kojo said. "She looks amazing now."
"You will invite her for dinner," his father said.
"That's a good idea," his mother said with a smile. "Then we can see whether we should get involved or not."
Vance stood and walked to the door.
"Where are you going?" his mother asked surprised.
He spun around. "I am not going to have her face your prejudice or condescension. No, she's not Sylvie or Kara. She doesn't have the right name or connections, but I don't care. I needed help, but now I'm sorry I even asked. We'll handle this together, without you." He turned and headed for the front door.
His mother followed him. "Wait. Van. Please wait."
Vance took a deep breath then turned to her.
"I didn't know," she said with apology. "I didn't realize you loved this woman so much."
"Mom, I never knew I could feel this way. When she cries, it breaks my heart. When she laughs, I feel a joy I never imagined. I know I've disappointed you too many times to count--"
"No, you haven't. I've just been worried about you. I see myself in you. My parents were worried when I said I'd marry your father. It wasn't easy blending our cultures together and I know it won't be easy for you either."
"But you loved Dad."
"Yes. I still do."
"So you understand?"
His mother nodded then wrapped her arm through his. "Come back in.”
***
She had to meet her of course. Bernice Lamine felt like a detective as she watched Greta leave her workplace and head for her car. She'd been following her for nearly a week, determined to see the kind of woman she was. Who was this woman who'd been able to wrap her son around her little finger? She'd first hired a private investigator who'd followed Greta and had reported that she was clean. Her routine was unremarkable. She basically went to work and then to her orchestra practice, aside from spending time with Van. The report had been costly and, unsatisfactory. Greta was smart and, from the photos the detective had shown her, beautiful, a dangerous combination. Her son liked to court trouble and Bernice knew that with a past like Greta's, there could be loads of it. She hoped not, but she wanted to make sure.
She lowered her head when she saw Greta headed in her direction, then jumped when something tapped on the passenger side window. She turned and saw Greta. Bernice hesitated then let the window down.
"Do you want to talk or just continue to follow me?" Greta asked, gripping the front of her wool coat as a fierce autumn wind blew past.
Bernice sighed irritated that she'd been caught. She unlocked the door. "Get in."
Greta got in the passenger side then held out her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Lamine."
Bernice shook her head, ignoring the outstretched hand. "Let's ignore the pretense. What do you really want with my son?"
Greta let her hand fall. "What do you think I want? I make enough money so I don't need his. And he is very attractive and has a great body but..." She smiled a little cruelly. "One can pay for things like that."
Bernice stiffened. "There's no need to be crude."
Greta shrugged. "I like to be honest. What questions did that investigator you hired to follow me not get answered?" Greta held up her hand when Bernice widened her eyes in surprise. "It's not his fault that I spotted him. When you grow up in the neighborhoods I did, you learn to always be on your guard. Let's just say, I'm extra sensitive and I know when a man is watching me." She sat back and clasped her hands together as if they were having a cordial drink. "I'm sure his report didn't reveal much about me. Aside from spending all the time I can with your son, I go to work and my orchestra practice. That's it. I have no secret addictions or another life. When it suits me, I can be a little rough around the edges, but I rarely need to now and--."
"Ms. Rodgers--"
"Please let me finish," Greta said in a polite, but firm voice.
Bernice bit her lip.
"I understand you love your son. I do too, so I'll make myself clear." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Although Vance told me that you and your husband are going to help me deal with my family situation, I want you to know that I expect nothing from you. I understand you not wanting to be involved. If you want to come up with a lie to save face with Vance, that's fine."
Bernice met the defiance in Greta's eyes with a sense of unease then she caught a glimpse of pain and all her resistance fell away. "Are you saying you don't want our help?"
"Yes."
"What are you going to do?"
Greta lowered her gaze. "I don't know, but I’ll think of something. I always do."
Bernice stared at the misery on the younger woman's face and finally realized how much Greta loved her son. How she wanted to carry this burden on her own, so that he wouldn't have to. She thought of what Vance had told her about Greta's family, especially her mother. She couldn't imagine the pain of having a mother like that. Greta needed to know what a mother's love could be and she was just the woman to show her. "You're being ridiculous."
Greta's head shot up. "What?"
"Of course we'll help you. And you are never to keep secrets like that from your husband. If there's something wrong, you are to handle them together. I had to learn that." She waved her words away. "But let's not talk about me. I already have an idea for your niece and we'll discuss your sister later." She reached out and held her hand. "I apologize."
"For what?"
"Not trusting you. I've just never seen my son like this and wondered who the woman was who'd taken his heart."
"I don't think he knows how much you care about him."
Bernice released her hand and shivered. "He'd be so angry if he knew what I've done. Please don't tell ever tell him."
Greta smiled. "I won't."
"And when you see me again, pretend that we've never met."
Greta's smile grew. "That's a promise."
***
Weeks later, Greta's conversation with Vance's mother felt like a dream, and she thought of it as she prepared to welcome his family over for dinner. She heard the sou
nd of laughter and the clink of dishes as Kojo and Kara set the table, Minnie organized things in the living room, soon Crystal and Vance's parents would join them. She had a lot to be thankful for. His family had helped her in so many ways. Marlene was now in a long-term nursing facility. She wasn't going to get any better. As a result of the overdose, she had suffered permanent brain damage that paralyzed her on one side and had taken away her ability to talk. After spending several days discussing her condition with Rita and Brianna, Greta made the decision to send her sister to the facility. From what the doctors had told her, Greta knew her sister would get the care she needed. Brianna was headed for Oklahoma where she had been invited to stay with Bernice’s sister, who agreed to help her get into a trade school, that would give her the skills and a job she would need so that she could support her child.
Rita had disappeared, with another man, but Greta wasn't too concerned about her. Her mother was a like a rat, she always landed on her feet. While she felt her life was more settled, Greta knew she'd never know how to thank Vance's family enough for all they had done.
"Hmm, it smells good in here," Vance said, coming into the kitchen.
"It should," Greta said with a laugh. "You cooked most of it."
He opened the oven. "Yes, I'm good."
Greta playfully hit him with a dish towel. Living with him had been easier than she'd thought. At first, she'd worried about having him in her house, afraid that he'd try to dominate or take over, but they'd easily slipped into a relaxed relationship. He didn't mind cooking and she loved to clean, so they balanced each other. She looked forward to spending her life with him. She glanced down at her engagement ring, still remembering the moment when he'd slid it on her finger. "I still think it's too big."
He turned to see what she was referring to then looked away. "It's not too big. You're just not used to wearing jewelry."
"My wedding band better be smaller."
"Hmm." He pulled out some frozen dough from the fridge just as the doorbell rang. "Could you get that? My hands are full."
Greta draped the towel over her shoulder. "Saved by the bell, Bartie."