The technician smiled. “You did good. Most kids are not happy customers.”
I thought about the onslaught of “customers” in the waiting area. Dozens of children from every age and race sitting patiently, most with no idea why they were there, some with a definite knowledge, obvious by the scowl of injustice on their faces. Why was it their fault that their parents had screwed up, slept with the wrong man, or seduced the wrong woman?
As we walked past, Mya held up her glistening red lollipop as proof for the other children, the experience wasn’t bad at all. And look, you get a reward.
I drove home glad to have the test over and behind us. It was the last thing I wanted to put Mya through, the last thing I’d ever want her to know. A test was needed to prove who her father was. What does that make her mommy? I wasn’t sleeping with two men at the same time. There was definitely a solid month or two between them. I’d already made up my mind to end the relationship with Airic long before Jake and I sealed our deal. Not to mention Airic had been experiencing technical difficulties. Erectile dysfunction wasn’t the biggest issue but damn if it didn’t throw a monkey wrench into the possibility of reconciliation.
Bottom line, it was plain old wishful thinking on my part. Deep down I wanted there to be a shred of hope that Mya was Jake’s. Up to the last second before Mya’s head came peeking out of my womb I’d wished by some miracle she was the love child of the hottest, sexiest, best thing that had ever happened to me. Everything would’ve been so much simpler.
Though anyone could see the similar features of Airic, the lightness of her skin, the sun-bleached frizzy edges of her hair that separated from the pack regardless of what kind of miracle-claiming product I used. Her sharp chin and piercing eyes could have come from either one of us, but there was no denying the overall presence of Airic became more pronounced as the years went by. Anyone could see it was his child. I lived with this fact every day. Though I disliked Airic immensely there was no denying my love for Mya.
As a treat for being such a brave girl, I promised a trip to the big park, the one with the waterfalls randomly spurting out from the ground, making a game. The children could never guess which hole would shoot the water so they ran to each one like it was a game of musical chairs.
There were a few children already surrounding the shooting water streams when we walked up. She sprinted past the water and straight to the sandbox. Maybe she’d play in the water later after she got hot. The child became a butterfly in springtime when other children were around. I watched her jump right in like she’d known the two other children all her short life. I headed to a seat on a bench a few gigantic steps away, which is all it would take for me to get to her if she fell off a slide or met some other daily threat of being a child.
“Is this seat taken?” I asked about the only shaded spot in the park.
“No, go ahead.” The woman hadn’t bothered looking up from her knitting. She pulled a long strand from the bag of yarn next to her. Someone’s grandmother I presumed, just like the ones in storybooks, with her sharp bifocals hanging on the bridge of her nose and her hair neatly pinned in a bun like she’d probably worn it all her life. I sat down to get a good view of Mya and all the children and wondered which one was under her watchful eye. Although in this case she was only watching her needles wave back and forth at record speed.
“Which one’s yours?” I asked, staring out at the sandbox where Mya had pushed her way through the thick of things. A little boy was suddenly without his shovel and Mya was digging away.
“Right here,” she said, reaching past her bag of yarn. She adjusted a light knit blanket with holes big enough to see through to where a baby slept peacefully.
“Oh my goodness, I didn’t even see him over there.”
“Yeah, he’s a sleeper. But of course nighttime’s an entirely different subject. I’ve tried everything to keep him awake during the day but no sirree, he’s got a serious aversion to daylight hours.”
“That must drive his mother crazy.” I smiled.
“Well for now, that would be me, and I’m all right with it. I don’t sleep much at night myself with this old bladder acting up. We got ourselves a rhythm. I wake up right about the same time each night and he knows I’m coming, no need to even put out a cry.” She pulled the light blanket back over the rocker.
“Your grandbaby?” I said for confirmation of what I’d already assumed.
“Foster mom. I’m on my twentieth child. Been taking care of little guys like this since my husband passed away eleven years ago. Why be on earth if you’re not going to do something worthwhile with your time?” She winked. “And you have just the one there.” She nodded toward Mya.
“Yes, just one.”
“Thinking about having any more? I say one is the loneliest number,” she chided me before I can get in a word. “Kids need siblings. Need somebody to tattletale on them to keep each other in line.”
“I only had a brother. Well, I shouldn’t say ‘only’ …. he was my best friend.”
“There you go, my point is proven. So you plan to have any more children?” she asked.
I turned my head and did my best to hide the well of tears attempting to break free. The odds were slim for Mya to have a brother or sister. Getting slimmer with each passing day. The tiny nagging voice in my head warned me there would be no more children. Mya sustained me. Such a heavy load to put on a small innocent child. My entire state of being depended on seeing her sweet face each morning and holding her for tender good night kisses.
The woman cleared my stifling thoughts with her voice. “When I was growing up we had a house full of my seven brothers and sisters and me. We had two bedrooms and one tiny bathroom. Guess that’s why I can’t imagine my big house empty. When this little guy leaves, there’ll be another one right behind him. No shortage of unwanted babies.” She twirled her yarn and started a new row. “Such a shame, too. I see all those big movie stars and celebrities flying all over the world looking for a child to love when there’s plenty right here in our own backyard.”
As if on cue there was a tiny cough from underneath the blanket. Then a second dry cough.
“Poor thing have a cold?” I asked.
“I wish it was just a cold. He’s got asthma. Found out early so that’s a good thing.” She put her knitting down and checked on the little guy. She reached inside and lifted the thick bundle against her chest. The baby opened his eyes and looked directly at me, but only briefly.
“He’s an angel,” I said quietly, reaching out and stroking his wispy head of hair, bald in the back where he’d spent too much time laying down. “Can I hold him?”
“Of course,” she said. “By the way, my name is Alverene Henderson.”
“Venus,” I said, anticipating the weight of the child in my arms. She handed him over without asking any more questions, like last name or any time served in a mental ward. Maybe if she’d known I’d suffered from the loss of my baby boy a mere six months ago and ached and yearned with every passing minute, hour, and day for his return, she would’ve thought twice before handing him over. Lucky for me she was a trusting soul.
“What’s his name?”
“Ralph.”
“Ralph?” I tested the name out loud and thought for sure it was all wrong for such a sweet little boy. I could feel the familiar tremor of his body with each raspy breath; it was the same way Jake felt when he was fighting an asthma attack.
Mya must’ve sensed her territory being breached. Before I knew it she was at my side making inquiries. She touched his foot and gave it a shake. Ralph smiled. If I wasn’t mistaken, he even let out a sly laugh. “Does he like peanut butter sanmiches?” Mya asked, stroking his chubby arm.
“Probably, but not yet. He likes milk. Lots of it,” Alverene said.
“Oh, milk.” I shook my head. “It’s not good for babies with asthma. My husband’s asthmatic,” I added, as if it made me an expert.
Alverene ignored my milk warning a
nd faced Mya. “And what’s your name?”
“Mya.” She held up three fingers knowing the next question. Alverene couldn’t help it, she asked anyway.
“How old are you?”
Mya skipped her usual hand to the forehead like she did when she was at her wit’s end. She leaned on Alverene and whispered, “Three.”
“You sure are a smart girl for three.”
“She is,” I agreed, “very smart.” She could count to ten, only skipping the number nine along the way. She’d mastered all her colors and wasn’t afraid to tell Jake or I when she was in a pink or blue mood. I pulled her up on the bench to sit next to Ralph and me. For a brief second or even longer the missing piece to a puzzle had been found and snapped gently into place. I snuggled against Ralph’s warmth and watched Mya make baby conversation.
“If I didn’t know better I’d say you all came this way,” Alverene said. “I believe families are made, not born. Such a big job. So much work to do, giving birth is only a small part, wouldn’t you say?”
I wondered if there was a sign on my back with my tragedy written in permanent marker. She pulled out a package of tissues and handed it to me, and went back to her knitting as if having a stranger balling her eyes out right next to you was the most natural act in the world.
14
Do Tell
Bright and early came with a vengeance. Mr. Sun slithered through the mini-blinds, sneaking under Delma’s closed lids, making her wish it was a Saturday instead of hump day. She wasn’t an early riser by nature. She could easily sleep till noon without so much as fluttering her lashes. But duty called. Duty always called. She never had anyone else to depend on but herself. No man around to pick up the slack. Mortgage, light bill, gas, and water, all had one name on the account: Delma J. Hawkins.
She rolled over, wishing for ten minutes’ more rest. All night she’d fallen in and out of sleep, fighting off visions of Trevelle Doval from nearly thirty years ago, bloodied and battered. Remembering the constant fear of being found out was like a thousand pins and needles pushed through her eyes. Always waiting for the day when the sheriff would walk into her courtroom and take her by the arm. Delma Hawkins, you’re under arrest.
How is it after all those years Trevelle Doval lands in her courtroom, of all the courtrooms in the land? She wasn’t a big believer in coincidence or accidents, collision courses. Cause and effect was what Delma subscribed to. The last few days felt like a cruel joke someone decided to play, bringing Trevelle front and center in her life. All those years of watching and waiting only to have her past land right on her doorstep.
Delma turned on the shower and waited while the water turned to hot and the steam rose on the mirror. Her phone started ringing the moment she was about to step into the glass enclosure. Let the machine get it, she thought. No, it was probably Keisha. She’d better answer. She’d already worried her baby to death with her talk of secrets and confessions. She didn’t want to be any more of a bother, making Keisha drive all the way over just because she hadn’t answered the phone.
Delma stood shivering, with the towel draped around her body.
“Hello,” she sang out, expecting to hear Keisha’s voice on the other end of the line. The line clicked and quickly went dead. She stared at the receiver and tried to pull up the caller ID. private call showed on the small window. Delma placed the phone back and it instantly rang again.
“Hello,” she snapped, expecting the same caller.
Keisha’s voice was a relief. “Hey, Mommy.”
“Hey …. did you just call a few seconds ago?”
“No. This is the first time I dialed. But that must be why you answered on the first ring. I wanted to check on you. Did you sleep okay?”
“Yes, yes. I told you I didn’t want you to worry about me, Keish. I’m fine.”
“Good. I’m going to look into a trip for us to Jamaica or Barbados, somewhere we can just relax, the two of us.”
She thought about being difficult, saying something silly like That’s not necessary, or Go with a friend who’ll be a whole lot more fun. Instead Delma was thankful for her good fortune for having a daughter who cared enough to want to spend time with her, let alone vacation together on an exotic island. “I’ll get my bathing suit whenever you tell me.” Delma chuckled, picturing herself hiking up a calm sandy shore in a one-piece. “Just let me know the dates and I’ll clear my calendar.”
Her daughter was all that mattered, all that had ever mattered. Only a mother could understand complete and utter self-sacrifice. Not even a husband or wife knew the kind of love between a mother and her child.
“Go on now. I’ve got to catch a shower and get to the courthouse.”
They hung up. Delma headed back to the bathroom. The minute she reached for the shower handle the phone rang again.
Keisha, always with one more thought.
“Yelllo ….,” Delma sang out.
“Somebody’s got a secret,” a man’s voice whispered, too low to identify.
“What …. ?”
The phone clicked and the line went dead. Delma couldn’t move. Her heart raced fast and hard against her chest. Somebody’s got a secret.
She dropped the phone. She spun around, suddenly feeling exposed. She stood shaking with nothing more than a towel wrapped around her body. She eyed the windows, then the bedroom door. She swung it open, peeking out quickly as if she’d catch someone standing right in her living room.
It took a minute to get a hold of herself, to calm her nerves. Must’ve been a crank caller. Her own paranoia was leading her down a crazy imaginary path. No one could know …. Trevelle Doval hadn’t even known and it was her child. A real mother would’ve sensed her child was still alive somewhere, walking the earth. That was the very reason Delma had lived in a state of constant dread during those first couple of months. The day never came. Because no one knew. Except …. she’d told Hudson everything only days ago. And now she was getting phone calls.
She hurried with her shower, got dressed, and rushed to work.
Delma waited in her car instead of going right into the courthouse. Hudson should’ve already arrived ten minutes ago. She had to appear unaffected. Pretend she wasn’t mad to get him to tell her the truth. All she wanted to know was why. She’d been good to him over the years. There was no reason he should want to harm her, cause her stress. No reason whatsoever.
“Hey, there,” Hudson said through the open window. Delma nearly jumped out of her skin.
“You scared me half to death.”
“What’re you doing waiting out here?” His orange polo shirt collar was folded inward.
Delma reached out instinctually and straightened it out. “I wanted to talk with you, but not inside.” She knew without a shadow of a doubt the courthouse cameras picked up more than pictures. In her early days in the district attorney’s office she’d listened to plenty of taped conversations in the courtroom between a defendant and his lawyer. Why would a judge’s chambers be any different?
“I needed to ask you something. I need you to be honest with me.”
“Wait ….” He did his best to rush around to the passenger side of her car and got inside. “What’s going on?”
“Are you calling my house …. trying to scare me into doing the right thing? I can’t think of any other reason, no other motivation for these phone calls. You’re my friend. I’ve been nothing but good to you. I gave you a job when no one else would touch you with a ten-foot pole.” She went on, never having realized Hudson’s mouth was hanging open in shock.
“What in the world are you talking about, woman?” His eyes bugged out like she’d seen on very rare occasions, usually sending her into a fit of giggles. Not this time. She was serious and too tired for games.
“Someone’s called my house, whispering about a secret. Now you’re the only person I told about Keisha …. I trusted you—”
Hudson Hinkler reached over with both hands, pulling Delma in for a full-frontal
kiss, taking her completely off balance. It happened so fast, yet lasted forever. His mouth still tasted of the toothpaste he’d used before coming to work. His tongue roamed over her bottom lip ever so gently, getting one last taste before letting her go. “I’d do anything for you, Delma Hawkins. You need to know you can always count on me …. don’t you know that by now? Now what in the world are you talking about?”
Delma nodded up and down, still dazed with shock. She brought her fingertips to her lip where the tingling moistness still lasted. He took ahold of her hand. “We’ll figure it out. Whoever, whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out together.”
15
Trevelle
“My life is an open book, just like the Bible,” Trevelle said to the television camera. “I’m here by the grace of God just like you.” She pointed out to the supposedly millions watching. “We all have trials and tribulations that bring us to the door of salvation. Yet, all we have to do is knock and we are granted entry. But you know what, it’s easy to get in; the work comes when you earn the right to stay in. You ever had a guest come to your house doing everything you asked them not to do, drinking, smoking, putting their shoes on the couch? Maybe they spill some food on your white carpet after you specifically asked them to not eat in your living room?” She paused. The television audience filled in with laughter. Trevelle smiled and shook her head. “God don’t want you in his house if you’re not going to follow the rules.”
Trevelle pressed the power button. The television turned off and she sat in silence. She enjoyed watching herself, unlike most television personalities she knew. They complained incessantly about their inability to watch themselves, lamenting over their hair, makeup, the angle of their mouth or the nervous tic no one else would notice if their life depended on it. Trevelle spent a great many hours studying her tapes, figuring out what she could do better, how to reach her audience and close the show with every eye in the house wet with emotion.
Nappily Faithful Page 9