My answer, “One minute, one hour, one day at a time.” Tomorrow wasn’t promised, so I stopped planning for it.
“Mya’s taking a nap, so don’t mince words. Tell me everything.” She sat with her hands in her lap, back straight, bracing herself for the worst.
The last thing I felt like doing was rehashing the details. I made a long story short and told her, “Airic gets Sunday visitations with Mya every other weekend.” I may as well have said he won full custody the way Pauletta slumped.
“He doesn’t deserve a minute of her sweet preciousness. I know he has rights as her biological father, but it’s still not fair.”
Jake stood over me with a tall glass of water and the little white pill I thought I’d never want to see again. For two months after the loss of my baby I took the antidepressant to help me function and, on occasion, sleep. “She needs to go lay down.” He spoke to my mother but kept his eyes on me. “She’s exhausted.” He brushed a hand across my shoulder with a soft rub around my neck.
“What are you doing?” Pauletta stood up and grabbed the pill out of my hand. “I thought you said you’d never swallow another pill, not even if your head was pounding, not even a Tylenol? You said a pill would not pass your lips, that’s what you said.”
“Pauletta,” Jake intervened. “Nothing like that’s ever going to happen again. I have the pills in my possession so there’s no possibility of an accident.”
“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?”
I threw my head back and covered my eyes. “Mom, please, it’s one pill. I’m not a drug addict. I’m not suicidal. I just want to get a minute of peace so I can sleep.”
“Um-hum. Can’t nobody drive you crazy unless you give ’em the keys. I tell you, Jesus is the only pill you need. Both of you need to get on your knees.” She moved past me with disgust and mumbled her way out of the living room, something about knowing better. The last part I heard for sure, “. …like somebody else raised you.”
“Go lay down,” Jake said to me. “I’ll talk to her.”
I held out my hand for a replacement. He slapped it lightly. “You’re mom’s right. I’ll be up with some hot tea and give you one of my relaxing foot massages.” He kissed me on the forehead and sent me on my way.
I knew a setup when I saw one. I’d asked Jake for the pill when we were in the car. We agreed anything prescribed would be kept in his possession. He could have given it to me discreetly, but he wanted to do it in front of my mother so he wouldn’t have to be the bad guy by saying no. I took his advice and made my way upstairs. I stepped into the bedroom expecting the obstacle course of boxes and instead found a true miracle. My mother had managed to turn the oversize space into a real bedroom suite filled with comfort and coziness. The beautiful framed black-and-white pictures of Mya when she was only months old sat on the center of the dresser. Pictures of Jake and I when we were happy, mainly the Christmas picture we’d taken snuggled against one another with Mya sitting on Jake’s lap near the fireplace lit in an effort to look seasonally correct. Lord knows it was eighty degrees that Christmas day in California. We were sweating like pigs and pleaded for the photographer to speed it up.
I stared at the picture until the realization hit me, I was pregnant with our son in that picture. I turned it facedown and sat at the edge of the bed. Please, please, please. Please what …. ? Let Airic be hit by a bus? Please let the earth crack open and he and Trevelle fall straight to the hot core and disappear forever? No, stop it. I tried to control the anger but it wouldn’t go away.
I dropped to my knees and kneeled at the rear of the bed.
Please give me strength.
Please let Airic see the error of his ways.
Please stop the hurt and hatred flowing through my veins. What Airic was doing was downright deplorable. Hearing Trevelle Doval call me mentally unstable hurt me to my bone. She would be unstable, too, if she’d lost a child after carrying him in her womb, feeling his every movement. Loving and caring each day, waiting to see the sweet miracle of life, only to have him ripped from your body, lifeless.
I lay with my eyes closed, knowing sleep was an obstacle course I’d never get through. The bedroom door opened. I heard my mother. “Venus, you sleep?”
“No, Mom. I never sleep.”
“You’re going to be fine.” She climbed in the bed beside me. She pressed her cheek against mine while I hugged her for life support. My mother brought out the child in me as I assumed all mothers did for their children, regardless of age. The moment when you can put down your weapons of defense, admit to vulnerability and sometimes defeat, and just be the small scared child who depends on Mommy to make it all better.
“Don’t let this drag you down. Don’t let it get between you. If anything, it’s time to bond together and squash whatever’s causing the strain.”
“We’re fine,” I protested. Then I rose up on my elbows and asked, “Is it that obvious?”
“Not to everyone, only to the people who care.” She brushed back my pile of hair, running a hand along the edge. She’d grown to like my hair natural. When I first cut off my long straightened coif she’d hoped it was a phase. It just wasn’t done. Why run around with an unruly head of hair when Dark and Lovely promised adventure and romance with one dose of creamy chemical assistance? Why live with what nature gave you when you could have man-made silky ease? Because I’d had enough of the promises that had been broken. Straight hair didn’t get me the job, career, the house, or the man. And it certainly never took me horseback riding, convertible cruising, or any of the other magical journeys shown in the commercials. I didn’t get anything remotely close to love and adventure until I cut off every shred of my hair and started over from scratch on my own terms.
“You know what I think? After this custody thing is over, you two need to leave Mya with me, take a nice long vacation. Go somewhere and just relax.” She kissed me while I inhaled her scent. Thirty years and I still didn’t know the name of the perfume she wore. All I knew was that it was the only perfume that didn’t send me into a fit of runny nose, watery eyes, and raised welts if I got too close.
“We’re doing better if it’s any consolation.”
“He loves you like nobody’s business. I can see it in his eyes, in everything he does, all for you. I’m mostly worried about what’s in your eyes.”
“Mom ….”
“Listen, women have been giving birth since Adam screwed Eve. Losing a child is devastating, but it’s a natural reality. Women lose their babies. You are lucky to have Mya. You’re lucky to have a husband that loves you.”
“You’ve got it all wrong. I’m the one keeping Jake together,” I said, ready to defend my position.
“I see who’s keeping who together. He’s not the one in need of little white pills.”
“I’m tired. I’m exhausted from trying to keep it together for him and me. I figured since you were here I could at least zone out for a minute. I haven’t slept in like a year,” I said. “Do you know what that feels like, Mom?”
She shook her head no. “Worrying won’t bring your baby back. It won’t stop Airic from wanting to see Mya, and it won’t bring you and Jake any closer together. Close your eyes, sweetie.” She scooted next to me and pulled the cover up around my shoulders. “You have to trust everything is going to be all right.” She kissed me lightly on the forehead and put her arm snuggly around me. For the first time in so long I rested. I gave up the fight and let my body relax and waited for sleep to come.
12
Good for the Soul
Delma stood at her daughter’s front door. She put her finger near the doorbell but waited, unable to press the button. She wasn’t home. She knew this, of course. But she always pressed the button so as not to barge in. Keisha was an adult now, one that made her mother extremely proud. At twenty-seven she already owned her own home and had a nice car and all the high-tech accessories her upwardly mobile salary could reasonably afford. Knowing there were stron
g theories about nature versus nurture, evidence proved an apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Delma had steered Keisha with a steady hand. She’d given her a good home, sought out the right teachers from ballet to Bible study, and made sure the bar was set high for achievement. Still with all she did right, she couldn’t help but fear the day Keisha’s true DNA would rear its ugly head and ruin everything.
After all, Keisha’s biological mother had been a prostitute and dope fiend, her father some demented john who hadn’t the sense or morals to know having sex with underage streetwalkers was foul, despicable behavior. Delma watched for signs of self-degradation. The teen years were the worst, wondering if one day she’d come home to boys lined up outside Keisha’s back window, waiting their turn. In her work she’d seen just about everything. Girls as young as eleven and twelve having sex, getting pregnant, and not knowing which boy or man was the father. So Delma watched with a cautious eye. Other parents warned her it was normal for teens to start wrestling for independence, acting out. Raging hormones and awkwardness. Needing acceptance from anyone and everyone except the mother who loved her.
Keisha had the requisite temper tantrums, a few bouts of depression because a boy she liked made it a point to choose her best friend over her. She was suspended once for fighting, tired of the other girls’ teasing that she talked white and thought she was better than everyone else. Delma wasted no time moving her out of that school and into a private academy where “talking white” equaled straight As and not an ass-whupping.
They survived the teen years without serious incident. As she watched her daughter mature into a woman she thought about telling her the truth. Adoption seemed like such an ugly word. Fate was far better. In Keisha and Delma’s case, divine fate.
Delma finally rang the doorbell. She heard Pearl scamper on the other side of the door, barking in her tight little terrier voice. “Just use your key,” her bark insisted. Pearl couldn’t understand why they must go through this every time.
“All right, I’m coming.” Delma didn’t like letting herself into her daughter’s house. Respect. Courtesy. Fear. The same nagging fear she’d endured the child’s entire life. Walking into some scene, witnessing with her own eyes the inevitable. Stop it, she told herself. Just stop it.
“Hey, Pearly. How’s the precious baby, huh?” Delma cautiously pushed the door open, not wanting to hit the excited doggy. Pearl stood on her hind legs while Delma patted and smoothed her shiny white coat.
Delma washed the water bowl and poured a fresh bottle of Evian into it, as Keisha instructed. The dog even ate gourmet doggy food bought online, shipped in dry ice. What else could be expected? This was Keisha’s child. She was treating Pearl the way she understood a child was to be treated, given the best, honored, loved, sacrificed for. Delma thought it ridiculous the way Keisha researched the dog’s pedigree, met with the breeder several times to get a feel for the temperament of the doggy parents, as if she were interviewing them. It all sounded familiar. Keisha wanted to make sure she was getting a good dog, from good stock, mentally healthy, who wouldn’t piss and poop all over her thousand-dollar rugs, or chew up her expensive Jimmy Choo collection.
How fortunate for Keisha to be able to choose, to insist on the best pedigree. Lucky her. She was never given the opportunity to make a choice, to interview or investigate the biological parents. There was no time to think, only to act. No waiting period. No background check.
She simply had accepted the responsibility of what may come from the minute she held Keisha in her arms when she was only a day old, malnourished, dehydrated, and more than likely damaged from the mother’s drug use. Didn’t matter.
“Mom, you’re already here.” Keisha said as she walked in the door. She was wearing her hair long these days. Gone was the short corporate raider look. Since taking the job with the Peabody law firm she looked more like a member of a girl singing group, always in spiked heels and fitted dresses that showed her compact booty and thin waist. Delma was familiar with the Peabody Group; they specialized in sports and entertainment law.
Keisha knelt down and rubbed cheeks with Pearl. “Hey, sweet pea, you miss Mama?” The shaggy dog ended up in Keisha’s arms. Delma couldn’t help notice their resemblance. The big glossy coal-black eyes peeking underneath a sheath of straight bangs. At least Keisha hadn’t gone platinum blond like a lot of the young black women these days, crying out for attention.
“I …. we need to talk.” Delma grabbed the pocket-size package of tissues from her purse. Tears were sure to fall.
“You’re scaring me,” Keisha said, sitting on the couch next to Delma. “When you called and said you wanted to meet me here, I was a nervous wreck. I had to talk myself straight; now you’re scaring me again.” Pearl squeezed between the two of them on the couch. “Just tell me, what’s going on?” Keisha nervously ran her fingers through her doggy’s silky strands.
Delma licked her lips and tried to remember Hudson’s words of encouragement. Secrets only hurt when they’re secrets. Once it becomes the truth, it can’t hurt anymore. She’ll understand because she’s your daughter and you raised her with love, strength, and compassion.
“Keish, sweetie, I should have told you this a long time ago. I was afraid because you were all I had and I never wanted to see hate in your eyes or in your heart. My mother died when I was eight years old, and I hated her for leaving me. I know that’s silly, hating someone for dying, but it’s true. I wasted a lot of time and years feeling that way until I was pretty much empty, until you came along.”
“Mom, I know where you’re going. I could never hate you.”
“Me?” Delma caught herself. “Of course, no. I mean, our relationship is solid. But I know you’ve always wondered about the missing pieces.”
Keisha leaned across and kissed Delma on the cheek. “I’ve never needed a father, I had you. You think because I’m still single I don’t know how to have a balanced relationship with a man, right? How many times are we going to have this same conversation? I’m right where I want to be. I could be in love, married with children, if that’s what I wanted, but I don’t. I like my life. And yes, I owe it all to you because you taught me I could do it on my own …. I don’t need a man to validate me.”
Delma squeezed the tissue package. “That’s not it. I mean, not today. This is about your biological parents.”
Keisha swept the hair away from her face, pushing the long straight ends behind her ear. So young, so pretty and full of life. She was the spitting image of that woman, her seed mother. The only difference was, Keisha was also beautiful on the inside where it counted.
“You’ve always told me you didn’t know who …. what are you saying?”
Delma suddenly got cold feet. Not just cold, solid ice blocks hinged to her ankles.
“I don’t want to know. I don’t care.” Keisha stood up and Pearl was quickly clipping at her heels. “I have to go. I have to change. The firm is sponsoring the Coalition for Black Women in Business, a fund-raiser. Of course they’re sending me to represent.”
Delma followed her daughter to the large master suite, the size of Delma’s entire living room. “I guess we can talk later, some time when it’s more appropriate.” She turned to leave.
“Why are you scaring me like this, Mom?”
Because secrets only hurt when they’re secrets. “I’m tired. I’m just feeling a bit lonely these days. Needy. I simply wanted to talk, spend a little time with you.” Delma couldn’t believe how contrived she sounded. Surely her daughter could see through her façade. She braced herself, ready to make the confession, hoping Keisha dragged it out of her.
“I know I haven’t been spending enough time with you, but things will calm down at the law firm around the holidays and we’ll do something. Go on a vacation. Hang out at the beach and drink mai tais.”
I don’t want to hold this inside anymore. Something’s happening and I know it’s happening for a reason. Sins revisited, I don’t know why …. I don
’t. All I know is you’re all that matters to me, all that’s ever mattered in my life.
“You’re right. I’ve been so stressed and I shouldn’t take it out on you.” Delma leaned in and hugged her precious daughter. “Go represent.” This time it was she who pushed the hair out of her daughter’s face. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Bright and early,” Keisha called out behind her.
13
Venus
I held Mya steady in my lap while the lab technician ran a swab across the inside of her cheek. Mya sputtered like she was about to choke from the dry cotton too near her throat. Her lip poked out ready for a wail.
“That didn’t hurt at all, did it?” The large red freckles on the woman bloomed to a kid-friendly smile.
Mya was led into subliminal agreement. Right, it didn’t hurt at all.
I kissed Mya on her head. “Such a brave girl.”
“Now I get my pop?” Mya softly whispered against my ear.
“I heard that. You deserve two lollipops,” the lab tech said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the shiny hard candy she’d used earlier as a bribe. “You also have your husband’s sample?” she said to me, taking advantage of the distraction.
“Um …. yes.” I reached in my purse and pulled out a baggy with barely enough hair shavings to be visible to the naked eye. Jake hadn’t volunteered for the test. “What’s the point,” he growled. “We know who her daddy is.”
The technician held the baggy up and inspected it in the light. “Good enough. And the second party’s sample is already on file. So you’re all done.”
“When do I get the results?”
She flipped through a couple of top sheets in the file. “Since this is a court-ordered test the results will be sent directly to the case clerk.”
Mya began unwrapping one of her lollipops, her large eyes on the prize.
Nappily Faithful Page 8