Nappily Faithful

by Trisha R. Thomas

  “But for a child, this particular child, three years is a lifetime. I sometimes find myself wondering when and how adults become blind to the gift of a sunrise, sunset, then sunrise again. When do we begin assuming tomorrow will come, so we lumber around with no urgency, no goal of resolution, only continuation of the same?

  “I’m guilty, no different than the rest of the world. Living in the same daily grind and struggle with no resolution, then comes the day when we shout ‘Hallelujah,’ better late than never. Right here, right now there’s gonna be a change.” The judge smiled and shook her head. “And just as quickly our moment of inspiration evaporates and we’re right back to the same.

  “Tomorrow,” she whispered. “There’s always tomorrow. But sometimes, Mr. Fisher, we have to admit that we waited too long, gave it too much thought and not enough action. And tomorrow becomes too late.”

  The judge turned her attention to my direction. Jake squeezed my hand under the table. “Mrs. Johnston-Parson, have you told Mya what’s going on? Does she understand who Mr. Fisher is?”

  My words were caught in my throat. “No.” The word came out broken and scratched. “I mean, I said he was someone important to her, like a fairy godfather, but … I never told her.” I inhaled, searching for the right answer. “I planned to tell her. I’m going to tell her,” I said.

  “Mr. Fisher,” the judge seemed satisfied and had turned her attention back to Airic, “if you were Mrs. Johnston-Parson, how would you explain you to this child? What words would you use exactly?”

  “Ahh, well.” He shot a pleading glance to his lawyer, who couldn’t help him.

  “Go on, Mr. Fisher, just look me in the eye and pretend I’m three years old and my name is Mya. I’ve had a wonderful life so far with my mommy and my daddy. Today we’re sitting at the park just feeding the ducks and you turn to me and say …”

  “Sweetie,” he started, before being interrupted.

  “Little louder, Mr. Fisher.”

  Airic swallowed hard and adjusted his tie as he scooted closer to the microphone. Louder as requested, “Sweetie. Sweetheart.” He stopped then started again. “Mya … I have to explain something to you. You know there are lots of little girls in the world with two daddies.” He wiped the moistness building around his temples. “You are one of the lucky ones who gets to have two daddies.”

  “Wow, two daddies, I am lucky.” The judge leaned forward, drawing every eye of anticipation. “It’s such a perfect world, and I understand everything at three years old, but could you explain why I have two daddies? Can anyone be my daddy? Maybe I can have three or four daddies? Why not?”

  A snicker or two floated forward. Airic shifted uncomfortably before trying to answer.

  “No. Of course everyone can’t be your daddy, your father … you have to be the father by birth. Jake, your dad, who you think is your dad, didn’t make you. I made you, me and your mommy.”

  “You mean out of flour and sugar like the gingerbread man … how did you make me?”

  “No, well, sort of just different ingredients, an egg from the mommy and a sperm from the daddy … and that’s how babys are made.”

  More chuckles in unison escaped the onlookers, although I had to admit he was doing pretty good. I hadn’t been able to think of an easy way to tell Mya or I would have done it.

  “Well, isn’t that special,” the judge retorted. “Mr. Fisher, a three-year-old will not understand about eggs and sperm.”

  Mr. Young stood up. “May I interject? A child may not understand everything right now. In a few years—”

  “Sit down, Mr. Young. Do not interrupt me. I’ll tell you this, Mr. Fisher, doesn’t matter how old a child is, she will never understand how or why someone ignored them, refused to be in their life when they had the chance. Doesn’t matter if they’re two, twenty, or sixty-five, doesn’t make a difference. The pain and consequence of feeling abandoned will always be there. I’d like to read the definition to you from the dictionary, Mr. Fisher. To abandon: ‘to leave completely and finally. To give up control of. To relinquish. To banish.’”

  “Excuse me, Judge Hawkins.” Mr. Young stood up again. “This isn’t a moral trial. We are addressing a father’s rights. Doesn’t matter if he stayed away three years or ten. He has a right to be a father to his child. He never signed away his parental rights.” He cut his eyes in my direction. “Even though someone tried to coerce my client into doing so.”

  “Mr. Young, I’ll let you know when I’m finished. I’ve only started with the verb. I’ve got the noun, the adjective, adverb. Hell, I’m just getting started. ‘Abandoned,’” she roared. “‘Forsaken or deserted. Utterly lacking in moral restraints.’ Have you any idea how it feels to be abandoned, Mr. Fisher? To be left for dead. To have someone turn their back and walk away without a thought or hesitation?”

  Judge Hawkins stood up and pointed seemingly at Airic until realizing the visual trail landed behind him where his wife sat. “Abandonment. Leaving a newborn child left for dead in the backseat of her pimp’s car.”

  The deafening silence in the courtroom made time stand still. No one scratched, blinked, or breathed. The satisfied smirk on Trevelle’s face quickly went blank with confusion.

  The clerk approached the bench, whispering the judge’s name. “Delma, take a recess.” He turned toward the spellbound audience. “Fifteen minute recess.” His hand fumbled for the gavel, finally grabbing the handle and clumsily banging it on the wood base. “Adjourned. Recess.”

  “I don’t need a recess.”

  The clerk spoke in panicked whispers. “Shh, Delma. Just ten minutes. Take a recess, please.”

  Everyone had the same confusion. The judge had lost her marbles. I leaned over and took in Trevelle staring straight ahead as if her mind had left her body.

  54

  Delma

  “Order. Order in this courtroom. This is my courtroom and I’m not finished yet.” A sigh of regret escaped her lips. “As much as I know you were wrong, Mr. Fisher, you have every right to be a father to your daughter. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, you don’t want her to grow up with that tiny little festering scar on her heart where she feels unworthy, unloved. Even after you’ve done everything right. Because that’s what children feel, deep inside, when they know there’s a parent out there who didn’t try, who didn’t step up to the plate. You deserve a second chance. Sometimes we all do.” The judge’s gavel hit the wood block again. “I’m entering a judgment for equal parental rights. As for physical custody, Mr. Fisher will have six months, and Mrs. Johnston, you will have six months.”

  The room went deathly silent.

  “Judge.” Hudson lifted a hand, waving a piece of paper.

  “No, I’m fine. At this time I ask for all parents to stand.”

  “Judge Hawkins, this is urgent.” Hudson shoved the paper in front of her eyes.

  Delma blinked several times, not sure what she was looking at. “DNA Test Result,” it read. She scanned down to see the parties’ names. What?

  Jake Parson 99% probability of biological parenthood.

  Airic Fisher .03% probability of biological parenthood.

  She read the results multiple times, scanning the page up and down waiting for the information to magically change. “What in the world is this?”

  “The results to the DNA test just arrived, Judge Hawkins.”

  “I can see that, Hudson. Order in this courtroom,” Delma demanded. “I’m sorry … it seems we have a problem.” The paper shook in her hands. She looked at Hudson, who gave her a nod. Read it, he mouthed.

  She read the results out loud. “Mr. Fisher, it appears you aren’t the child’s biological father.”

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard. Judge, there’s been a mistake. I am Mya’s father. There’s not a shred of doubt in my mind. There’s been a mix-up.” Airic pointed toward Jake. “That man is a criminal. He probably paid someone to change the results. This is ridiculous. Mya is my chi
ld.”

  “Mr. Fisher, at this time I have no choice but to enter this paternity test into the record. You have every right to pursue legal action.” It took every ounce of energy in her body to stand, then she sank back down, feeling her knees buckle.

  Hudson was fast at her side helping her to her feet. He leaned past her and spoke into the microphone. “Judge Hawkins will have to reschedule the rest of you.”

  There were a few moans of disappointment, mostly for the fireworks having ended.

  “I’m fine.” Delma pulled away from Hudson’s grip and found herself staring at Trevelle Doval. She thought she’d see satisfaction on the woman’s face. Instead she looked as if she’d seen a ghost. Trevelle’s lips moved slightly. Delma followed her line of vision to Judge Lewis, standing in the center aisle. He hadn’t been there the entire time, she was sure … at least she’d hoped. He stood watching the disorder with a disappointed expression. Delma shoved past Hudson, pushing through the door so hard it slammed against the wall.

  “They’re not going to get away with this. Someone’s going to jail for this.” Airic was livid. His face turned red-hot as if he’d been scorched in the sun all day long.

  “All we need to do is file for an immediate appeal. We’ll have a new DNA test. Don’t worry, we’ll have this resolved in no time.”

  “It should be resolved now. My wife was right about you. You’re an imbecile. There’s no regulation of these tests?” he screeched. “You just let anyone conduct a DNA test, then have no control over how the results are reported?”

  The lawyer was taken aback by Airic’s uncharacteristically rude outburst. “Please, rest assured a new test will be ordered,” Mr. Young said with mild contempt.

  “Why should I have to start this process all over? What am I paying you for?”

  “You’ve made a valid point, Mr. Fisher. If you’re going to bark around insults and orders, you should have the decency to have paid in full. I have not received a check for services rendered.”

  “Move, get out of my way. Pay you for what … doing nothing?” He extended a hand to his wife who only sat still as if traumatized. He put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry for all of this. I’m sorry you had to go through any of this.”

  “There was a man standing there, did you see him?” Trevelle said when she finally spoke. “Right there, he was right there.”

  55

  Venus

  I was still unable to move from the very spot I’d heard the judge say Mya was not Airic’s child. Or, more to the point, Mya was Jake’s child. I kept shaking my head waiting for the fog to clear, waiting for someone to tap me on the shoulder.

  “Babe, come on. We’ll work it all out later.” Jake was talking close to my ear. Georgina was on the opposite side of me, giving my elbow a soft lift up.

  “How … when … ?”

  “Come on, upsy daisy.” Georgina focused on the task at hand of helping me to my feet.

  “You’re not going to get away with this,” Airic yelled from the other side of the room. The bailiff was lifting his arms to keep peace between us. Thank goodness. I had a feeling if Airic had come anywhere near Jake, he would make the ex-boxer’s beatdown look mild in comparison.

  “Sir, go, move along,” the bailiff said to Airic.

  We moved out in a small huddle with me in the center. I couldn’t help myself from looking back, although it was Trevelle who’d caught my eye. She continued to stare forward like she was in a trance, completely oblivious to the breakdown of her husband.

  “Why can’t anyone hear me?” Airic shouted. “They fixed the results.”

  56

  Raising Hell

  “She did this, first-class evil.” Delma paced, talking to Hudson. “How? How in the world did she get ahold of DNA records?”

  “Maybe she didn’t. What if the test is correct and the child really isn’t his?”

  Delma gave it a moment’s thought before a knock at the door signaled the answer would have to wait.

  “Judge, I can explain,” Delma said. “I’m so sorry you had to witness that outburst. I’ve been under so much pressure.” She’d seen Judge Lewis come into the courtroom during the melee. She’d tried to get herself under control, but the damage had already been done.

  “Can I talk to you alone?” Judge Lewis gave a no-offense smile to Hudson.

  “I’ll be out here, if you need me.” He left and closed the door.

  Judge Lewis sat down and looked as if the bad news was even too much for him to bear.

  “I understand,” Delma started in. “Don’t worry about what you have to say. I brought it on myself and I completely understand.”

  “You did such a fine job raising her,” he said.

  “Raising who?”

  “I expected you would have told her by now.” He closed his eyes and rubbed the exhaustion away with a thumb and forefinger. “What’s it going to take?”

  “I don’t understand.” Delma said. “I’ve had a full day if you get my meaning, judge. So I’d appreciate you telling me exactly what you came to say.”

  “I thought if I put her in your courtroom, you’d be grateful for the opportunity to tell her that her daughter was still alive. I thought there couldn’t have been a better alignment of stars, and you still wouldn’t tell her.”

  Delma plopped down in her chair, stunned. “It was you … all this time. The phone calls, the note. How did you know?”

  “Something you said out there really touched me, Delma. When you said there’d always be a festering scar on a child’s heart because there was a parent out there who didn’t step up. You’re right. And I know now what I have to do. What I should’ve done a long time ago.” He pulled out a folded piece of paper, a letter thick enough to be a will and testament. “I wrote this a long time ago. I wanted to give it to you but there was never a time when I didn’t fear it would end my career, my life, my marriage. Keisha is my child,” he said without blinking his sad dark gray eyes.

  “You were the john that got that girl pregnant?”

  “I wasn’t a john, I was a cop who cared about her with all my heart. I wasn’t able to save her. I never saved any of those girls, they always went right back out there. But I knew Velle was different and I tried to help her. I got her off the streets and moved her into the house with my family. When she had to leave, she fell apart and ended up back out there, pregnant.”

  “You didn’t know she was pregnant?”

  “I knew, but I couldn’t take her back in and she wouldn’t stay at any of the shelters.” He shook his head.

  “How did you know it was me, that I had the baby?” Delma asked.

  “Velle called me and told me she’d had the baby. She told me about Cain. I picked her up and she showed me the car, and where the baby would have been had it still been there.” He looked up at Delma. “After I got Velle back to a safe place, I went to the hospital and asked questions and found out it was a lady from the district attorney’s office who brought her in. All the receptionist could remember was D … period. I checked and found only one first initial of D in the whole office and it was you. They said you’d taken a leave of absence. My only goal at the time was to find out everything you knew. I didn’t want Velle to go to jail for killing that punk. She’d already been through so much.”

  Delma’s mouth was hung open. He read the question on her mind. “I saw you come out of your house holding her like she was the most precious possession of your lifetime, and I just knew. I knew it was Velle’s baby. I couldn’t tell her any different. I couldn’t tell her the baby was still alive. I couldn’t tell anyone anything. If I told on you, I’d be telling on her, and myself, a white cop getting an underage black girl pregnant. I couldn’t take that chance.”

  “Does she know you’re here? Do you two have a relationship?”

  “She doesn’t know … or maybe she does but I haven’t talked to her since I took her to a relative’s house some twenty-five years ago.

 
“Read this, and then give it to Keisha. I’ve had it for a long time and I’ve not changed a word of it, so it’s straight from the heart.” He held it out but Delma only stared at the letter. “Please,” he said. “Take it.”

  “No.” Delma surprised herself. “No.” She shook her head. “How do I know you’re really her father? She was a whore, any number of men could be her father. Now you want me to say to my child, This man … that you’ve met at picnics and work functions is really your daddy? All those times you sat in front of my child and talked to her like a pure stranger, you want me to go to her and say he’s really your father? It would break her heart.”

  “Delma, why keep hiding the truth?”

  “Because I don’t know what the truth is.” Delma found herself up on her feet.

  “I do …” The voice came from the opened door. “I know the truth.” Trevelle Doval stood, blinking hurt and astonishment. “All this time you were right here,” she said to Judge Lewis. “Right here and you never once tried to contact me.”

  Hudson was standing behind Trevelle with an uh-oh face. “You want me to call security?”

  “No,” Delma said, defeated. “I think it’s time we all talked.”

  The night Trevelle gave birth, Cain had beat her within an inch of her life.

  “Oh God, it’s coming. I have to get to the hospital.” Trevelle felt the fluid pop and spurt between her legs. The warm liquid soaked through her panties and skirt then pooled on the dirty carpet.

  “Yeah, right, I’ll take you to the hospital,” Cain said. “Get yo’ ass up.”

  The blood running from her nose and lips, the bruising on her forehead, her eye swollen closed, those were the last things Cain wanted a doctor to see. He dragged her to her feet, helped her down the apartment stairs and to his car. He pulled her into the backseat of the bronze Cadillac that had lost its shine a long time ago. Ripped seats and trash littered the floor.