by Rhonda Bowen
Jules felt her voice catch in her throat. “Hi, Momma,” she managed to strangle out.
Jules held her breath as her mother stared at her silently, an unreadable expression on her face. It occurred to her that she might have to give her memorized apology speech on the front step, since she wasn’t sure Momma Jackson would invite her in. Either way, she had come this far; there was no turning back now.
“I was wondering if I could talk to you,” Jules began shakily. “I know I don’t deserve your time after how—”
Before Jules could finish speaking, her mother pushed the door farther open and turned away from Jules to walk back into the house.
Jules knew that was as much of an invitation as she was going to get, and so she hurried inside, closed the door, and went to the living room, where she found Momma Jackson sitting neatly in one corner of her large chaise lounge. Her hands were folded, and she was looking at Jules expectantly.
Jules sat down across from her mother in the matching love seat and swallowed hard.
“First off, Momma, I want to apologize for what happened the last time we spoke,” Jules began nervously. “I was very upset, but I had no right to take it out on you the way I did. It was wrong, and it was disrespectful, and I’m sorry.”
She looked up at her mother, but Momma Jackson’s face remained expressionless.
“I know you’re probably going to be mad at me for a while, and that’s fine. I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am,” Jules said finally. She watched Momma Jackson for a response, but none came.
Sighing heavily, Jules stood and turned to leave. She had done the best she could. Now it was up to her mother.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out with you and your young man,” Momma Jackson said quietly.
Jules turned slightly to look at her mother. She didn’t know what she expected, maybe some remorse for the state of their mother-daughter relationship, or maybe just sympathy from a woman who knew what it was like to have her heart broken. But there was none of that on Momma Jackson’s face. Instead there was just sincerity. Not enough to be soft, just enough to show that Momma Jackson was in fact sorry that things had not worked out for Jules.
In that moment Jules realized that this was what her relationship with her mother was going to be.
“Thanks,” she said quietly, before continuing down the hallway. When she got to the door, she paused. Her hand was already on the knob, and she could almost taste the freedom of the outdoors, but at the same time, something told her that if she left her mother’s house now, any possibility of a better relationship would leave with her.
Before she could lose her nerve, Jules walked swiftly back into the living room.
“I don’t understand why all I did was never good enough for you,” Jules said abruptly. Momma Jackson looked up at Jules in surprise.
“I really did try to be everything that you wanted me to be,” Jules continued. She knew she had to say everything at once, or it would never get said. “I went to university, got my degree, got a good job, stayed in church, and never got pregnant, but it still wasn’t enough. I’ve tried so hard to make you proud of me, to make sure you never had to hang your head in shame, to show you that you did good with me even though Daddy wasn’t here, but it feels … it feels like no matter how hard I try, I can’t win with you.”
Tears streamed down Jules’s cheeks as all the frustration of the past twelve years came pouring out. “Am I really that big of a disappointment to you?”
Momma Jackson looked stunned as she watched Jules break down in the living room.
“Oh, honey, never that,” Momma Jackson said. She got up from the couch and wrapped her arms around her trembling daughter.
“Sugar, I’m so proud of you … sometimes my heart just wants to burst,” Momma Jackson said lovingly, as she pulled her daughter close to her.
“So why are you always embarrassing me around people, and saying things like I abandon you?” Jules asked between sniffles.
“I don’t know,” Momma Jackson said, throwing up her hands in frustration. Jules saw that her mother was getting upset, but realized that Momma Jackson was more angry with herself than with Jules.
“I guess … I guess I just wanted to get your attention,” Momma Jackson said tiredly.
Jules looked confused. “What?”
“I just wanted you to show some emotion when it came to me, make me a part of your life.”
“Momma, of course you’re part of my life,” Jules argued in confusion. “Whenever you need me, I’m here. Anything you need I make sure you have it.”
“I know, I know, but I’m not part of your life,” Momma Jackson said emphatically. “I see you with Maxine and that white girl. You tell those girls everything. You and Davis are thicker than thieves. Even your Aunt Sharon seems to know more about you than I do.”
Jules opened her mouth to respond. But she couldn’t, for everything her mother was saying was true. She did share a lot more with those people than she did with her mother. But it was just because she never felt like any of them were judging her. But she couldn’t tell her mother that. Then again, maybe she should.
“And it was one thing when you lived here,” Momma Jackson continued. “But when you moved, it was like I was out completely. You barely visit, and you stopped coming to Kendalwood Church like you used to when you lived here. I know you said you moved for work, but sometimes it feels like you moved to get away from me.”
Jules could hear the hurt in her mother’s voice, and for the first time, truly understood what her mother was going through. She sighed heavily and sat down on the couch.
“Okay, Momma,” Jules began. “First off, I really did move for work. The nature of my job is that sometimes I have to be at the hospital at strange times of the day to take care of media stuff. It’s hard for me to do that if I live three towns away. Secondly, I never liked Kendalwood. I told you that from the beginning. I know you don’t get it, but Scarborough Memorial is like my home. Maxine, and Tanya, and Pastor Thomas are like my second family, and I know you’re not going to like this, but I really needed—need a father figure like Pastor Thomas in my life.”
Jules took a deep breath. This part was going to be the hardest for her mother, but she had to say it.
“And lastly, Momma, it’s not that I don’t want to tell you things about my life, but sometimes … I feel like you’re judging me.”
Jules swallowed and pulled one of the throw cushions into her lap in front of her.
“After Daddy left, it was like you started expecting so much more of me. And if I was less than what you expected, it was like I wasn’t good enough. I felt like I always had to work harder to measure up.”
“Oh, sugar, after your dad left, I wasn’t sure how to handle you and Davis,” Momma Jackson admitted, sinking into the couch beside Jules. “I didn’t know if I would be able to take care of you both on my own, and I panicked.”
“Is that why you started working so hard?”
Momma Jackson nodded. “I wanted to make sure that you children wouldn’t feel the difference of living on a single-parent income. I didn’t realize that I wasn’t spending enough time with you. And by the time I did, it was too late. Davis would still cling to me, but you, you had become little Miss Independent. You never asked me for help with anything.”
“Momma, that’s not true.”
“Jules, you bought your own prom dress, and got dressed at Maxine’s house.”
“Because I thought you didn’t even want me to go to the prom! You never even asked me about it,” Jules argued.
“That’s ‘cause you never said anything about it,” Momma Jackson said. “You never even told me that Jacob—”
“Joshua,” Jules corrected.
“Whatever. You never even told me he asked you. I had to find out from Sister Mullings who was chaperoning. Do you know how much that hurt me, Jules?”
“Momma, I was going out with Joshua for three months before w
e went to the prom. Three months,” Jules emphasized. “You were never home even once when he picked me up. Joshua and I could have done … anything, and you would never have known. You were so wrapped up in work.”
Momma Jackson sighed heavily.
“I guess we are both a little bit to blame,” she admitted.
“Yeah.”
“I just wish I could have been there for you, sugar,” she said, sighing.
“I know.”
They sat on the couch silently, thinking of all the things they should have done but hadn’t. Jules noted that this was the first honest conversation she had had with her mother in a long time.
“So that boy’s really out of the picture,” Momma Jackson said.
Jules sighed. “More or less. I really messed up with him,” Jules said.
Momma Jackson looked at her in bewilderment. “You messed up? I thought you said that boy was the one acting the fool?”
“No, it was me, and my issues,” Jules said. She told her mother the whole story about thinking Germaine was involved with drugs, and then finding out he was actually working with the police the whole time.
“Well, ain’t that a hot mess,” said Momma Jackson.
Jules sighed and nodded in agreement.
“Do you know what you’re gonna do?” Momma Jackson asked.
“There’s nothing I can do, Momma,” Jules said. “I didn’t trust him, and he didn’t trust me. There’s too much stuff to get past.”
“Oh, Jules, don’t be stubborn. If you really care for this man, then you need to at least try to work it out,” Momma Jackson said. “You need to bring the whole thing to the Lord as well. He’ll always lead you right.”
Jules sighed. “I wish I had been doing more of that before. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this mess. I was so sure I knew what was right for me. But I was wrong. I wasn’t trusting God at all. I feel so ashamed to ask for help now.”
“Oh, no,” Momma Jackson said, sitting up suddenly. “I know I didn’t raise you to think no foolishness like that.”
Jules’s eyes widened at her mother’s intensity.
“Now you listen to me. We all make a mess of our lives sometimes—you can look at me as a prime example—but God still cares for us. He knows you messed up, and didn’t trust Him enough. But He also knows that you’re sorry and that you want to trust Him completely. But He can’t help you until you let Him.
“Don’t make the same mistake of trying to do things on your own again,” Momma Jackson said softly, touching Jules’s cheek. “Let go, and let God take care of it, okay?”
Jules nodded as tears moistened her eyes again.
“Thanks, Momma,” she whispered, as her mother folded her in her embrace.
“Anytime, sugar, anytime.”
By the time Jules got home from her mother’s, it was almost eleven o’clock. She was glad she was still on her leave of absence from work, for she didn’t know if she could have made it in anyway.
Stretching out in her couch, she idly hit the Play button on her answering machine.
“You have eight new messages.”
Jules sat up suddenly in surprise. She had just been out for a few hours. How could she have missed eight calls since then?
“First message: Hey, Jules, this is Truuth. Gimme a call back as soon as you get this. It’s important.”
That was weird. She was barely on speaking terms with Truuth. Why would he call her?
The machine beeped as Jules skipped to the next message.
“Next message: Hey, Jules, this is Truuth again. Please give me a call. I need a favor from you.”
Beep.
“Next Message: Me again. How come you’re not picking up your phone? I’ve been calling your cell all evening, and I’ve been getting nothing. Anyway, buzz me back, okay?”
Beep.
Jules dug through her purse and pulled out her BlackBerry. Seven missed calls: six from Truuth and one from an unknown number. She flipped through the settings and realized that it had been on vibrate. No wonder she hadn’t heard it ring. She was so distracted that she only caught the last part of the next message.
“… I’m giving her your number so she can call. Maybe she will get through to you.”
Giving who my number?
Jules was about to rewind the message when she heard an unfamiliar voice.
“Next Message: Um … Hey. This is Soroya. You don’t know me, but Truuth said I could call you since he wasn’t in town. He said you would know what to do. I’m at the hospital with Germaine….”
Jules’s heart began to hammer in her chest. She was gripping the chair cushions so hard that her knuckles were turning white. She didn’t want to think about what might be wrong.
“… There’s no one else to call.”
Jules heard Soroya pause as if she wasn’t quite sure what to say next.
“We’re at the Emergency room, at Toronto Grace—”
Beep.
The tape finished before Soroya had, but it didn’t matter, for Jules was halfway to the door. She tried not to think about what could be wrong with Germaine, but already ghastly images of his ravaged, bloody body were invading her mind.
As she pulled her door closed, she whispered a prayer.
Please, Lord, let him be okay.
Chapter 22
Jules navigated quickly through the halls of the hospital she knew so well. The nurses and doctors on staff who knew her waved as she passed them by, but all Jules could manage was a tight smile to hide the anxiety building in her.
The nurses were in much higher spirits now that the hospital administration had agreed to their list of requests, leading to the end of the strike. And the two large, alert security guards Jules had passed were proof that it wasn’t just empty talk, either. Jules was glad. A hospital, especially one as central as Toronto Grace, was not the kind of place you wanted to have labor unrest.
“Jules! Never thought I’d see you here so late,” the on-duty nurse said cheerily when Jules arrived at Emergency.
Jules tried to force a smile. “I’m actually here to see a patient? Germaine Williams?”
The nurse scanned the computer at the station in front of her. Jules tapped her fingernails on the console as the woman took her own sweet time scrolling through the list of registered patients. She wished she could move her aside and check for herself, but she knew that would have been against hospital policy.
“Jules, I’m sorry, I’m not seeing any Germaine Williams here. Are you sure—”
“Jules?”
Jules turned at the sound of her name and found herself face to face with a slim young girl, with large hazel eyes and fine features. Her thick curly hair had been hastily pulled together in a ponytail, and her beautiful hazel eyes were red and swollen from crying. The instant Jules saw her, she knew she was Germaine’s sister.
“Soroya?”
The girl nodded mutely. She continued to stare at Jules, as if not quite sure what to do next. Jules wasn’t quite sure herself. She looked around the emergency room. There were a few people milling around, sitting on chairs or leaning against the wall, but no Germaine.
“Where’s your brother?”
Soroya led Jules down the stark, brightly lit hospital hallway, past patients and nurses until Jules wasn’t quite sure where she was going. Suddenly Soroya turned a corner and stopped abruptly, causing Jules to almost walk right into her.
“Soroya, I have been looking all over for you. Didn’t I tell you to stay right—” Germaine froze when he saw Jules standing behind his sister. Jules tried to read the expression on his face.
She could tell that he was angry. Angry at someone, but she knew instinctively it wasn’t her or Soroya. In fact even though he was looking directly at her, it took a while for it to register to him that she was there. His mind seemed to be completely elsewhere.
“What’s going on, Germaine?” Jules asked with a calm that surprised her.
“Did you call her, Soroya?
” he asked his sister, his eyes never leaving Jules.
“Yes,” Soroya said defiantly. Jules looked down at the ten-year-old girl and saw the same stubbornness that she always saw in Germaine.
“Truuth said I could call her,” Soroya continued. “He gave me her number.”
“But what did I say Soroya,” Germaine said with an air of impatience.
“You said you would take care of everything and not to call anybody else.”
“So why didn’t you listen to me?” Germaine asked quietly but firmly.
Right before Jules’s eyes, all the stubbornness seemed to evaporate from Soroya.
“Because I was scared.”
Germaine opened and closed his mouth several times but nothing came out. He rubbed a hand tiredly against the back of his neck but said nothing.
Jules sighed heavily and turned the slim girl gently toward her.
“What happened, Soroya?”
She realized that she wouldn’t get an answer from Germaine.
Soroya looked down at the floor as tears began to pool in her eyes.
“My mom,” she said, her voice wavering as tears began to pour down her cheeks. “He beat her.”
“Who?” Jules asked softly. The young girl began to cry harder, and instinctively Jules pulled her into her arms. Soroya wrapped her skinny arms around Jules’s waist and buried her tear-stained face in Jules’s stomach.
“Her father,” Germaine said quietly. Seeing his sister cry had taken some of the fight out of him, and he sank down into one of the sofas in the waiting area near the nurses’ station.
With Soroya still clinging to her, Jules sat down beside him. Soroya instantly curled up on the remaining portion of the sofa and buried her face in Jules’s lap. Jules stroked the young girl’s hair absently as she watched Germaine.
“What happened?” Jules asked again quietly. Germaine sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.