The Vow

by Denene Millner

  I thought I’d had it all. After Amaya, Viv, and I first made the Vow at Elise’s wedding, I focused on finding a husband. I thought I had everything in perspective with my checklist of attributes: loving, supportive, smart, well-respected, solid career.

  I look around the living room. Is this, at thirty-two, all I have in the end? This place, this perfect place that I created. I filled my life with all the things a woman could want: a nice home, beautiful car, a closet full of more clothes, shoes, and handbags than I could ever hope to have the time to wear. On paper I have everything.

  I grab the remote and turn up the TV volume. When I hear the phone ring I wait impatiently for the answering machine to pick up. And then I hear my sister’s voice.

  “Trista, it’s Tanisha,” she says. “You have to come home. Daddy’s in the hospital.” I grab for the receiver off the floor.

  “Hello,” I say breathlessly into the phone.

  “Trista, Daddy collapsed,” she says, her voice catches on the words. “I’m calling you from the hospital. Please come.”

  “I’m on my way,” I say, immediately standing up straight. I rush up to my bedroom, taking the stairs two at a time. I stuff my feet into my sneakers and throw on an old sweatshirt. I grab my purse off the nightstand and race to my car.

  MY DAD IS LYING in a hospital bed in the Intensive Care Unit. As I stand there, looking through the window into the small room, there are countless tubes coming out of his nose and arms, and an oxygen mask covers most of his face. Daddy has been lapsing in and out of consciousness for the last two days. The cancer has spread. Dr. Irby told us it wouldn’t be long now. My sister and I keep a rotating vigil outside his room, drinking endless cups of bad coffee from the vending machine.

  As Najee, the kind Haitian nurse who is caring for Daddy today, updates me on his condition, I see my sister walking down the hallway. She looks as tired as I feel. Her brow is furrowed and her normally neat Halle Berry crop cut is brushed back. I fill Te in on what Najee said, that there is no change. All they are hoping for at this point is to keep him comfortable. She asks me if I want to grab a bite from the McDonald’s downstairs. We are both silent in the elevator ride down to the first floor. Once we receive our trays of food, we walk over to a booth in an empty corner of the restaurant.

  “How’s Ty?” I ask as I open a ketchup packet and squeeze the contents onto my french fries. I am wondering how my nephew is handling this crisis.

  “He’s okay. Trying to be strong for his mother,” she says, smiling at the thought of her son and picking absently at her own french fries. “But I don’t know how he’ll handle Daddy’s passing. Daddy’s been around all his life, and without his own father there…”

  “I know, Te,” I say. “This must be so hard for him to understand.”

  “Yeah, but he’s strong, he’ll get through it. We all will, right?” As she asks this last question, it’s as if she is asking me to confirm that we’ll survive. It is the first time I’ve ever seen my older sister look or sound so vulnerable.

  “We will, Te,” I say as I reach across the table and put my hand on top of hers.

  “So, what’s going on at work?” she asks, trying to change the subject. Her voice is noticeably devoid of her normal biting sarcasm; she sounds genuinely interested. The stress of the last few days has, strangely, not had us at each other’s throats as usual.

  “Daddy mentioned you were up for some big promotion. How did it go?”

  “I didn’t get it,” I say. This is the first time I have said the words out loud in over a week. The events of the last two days have taken some of the sting out of the words.

  “What happened?” she asks. I tell my sister the whole story about how I’d been working so hard for the last year, about Sloane’s plan for my new client, and, finally, about how the firm planned to strip me of all my important clients. And once I start talking there’s no stopping me, so I tell her also about the Vow, about Garrett, and even about Damon. By the time I finish, I can barely look at her, so I take a couple of bites of my now cold Big Mac.

  “Trista, I’m so sorry,” she says. It’s her turn now to reach over and take my hand. “That story sounds like something straight out of one of your movies.”

  “Yeah, but I doubt anyone would believe it all happened to one person,” I snort in disgust. “My career is over and my boyfriend is fucking men.”

  “What do your girlfriends say you should do?” she asks.

  “Well, that’s the other problem.”

  “Is something wrong with you and your girlfriends?” she asks. I tell her about the trip to Las Vegas and the fight between me and Amaya. Recounting the story I feel ashamed.

  “I can’t believe I said those things to her,” I say.

  “I can,” says Tanisha softly. “I mean, Trista, you’ve always been very judgmental, especially about people that don’t fit into your way of thinking or acting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “C’mon, Tris, you’ve always been that way. Even with me,” she says softly.

  “I never judged you,” I say, shaking my head emphatically.

  “You may have never thought you were judging me, but I felt it in the way you looked at me and the way I was living my life when we were growing up. I never felt that I was as smart as you and I knew that I couldn’t measure up in Mommy’s eyes.”

  “Why would you even care what Mommy thought?” I snap.

  “Because, Trista, even though she wasn’t perfect, she was our mother. And even if you didn’t see it, she was really proud of you. She was always talking about how smart you were. And she never talked that way about me, so I got attention from other places.”

  “Mommy talked about me?” I ask, very surprised at this bit of information. I don’t remember my mother saying a sober word to me, let alone bragging about me. Most of the time I just tried to stay out of her way.

  “All the time. And she would ask me why couldn’t I be more like you,” she snorts bitterly. “That was why I was always running the streets. Who wants to come home to a house where your mother is constantly riding you about not being as good as your little sister.” I am surprised. Was that why she seemed to hate me—because Mommy was comparing us to each other and making both of us feel like we were falling short?

  “But now even I know that Mommy probably had her own demons to deal with and there was nothing that you or I could do to help her,” she says. “She was sick and she couldn’t stop drinking.”

  “I never knew any of that,” I admit. “And here, all this time, I was jealous of you because you were the popular and outgoing one in the family who everyone always wanted to be around.”

  “You? Jealous of me?” Tanisha laughs.

  “Yeah, why do you find that so hard to believe?” I ask. “You were the fly girl that everybody wanted to hang out with. People couldn’t believe we were sisters.”

  “Yeah, well not so fly anymore,” she says, laughing.

  “What are you talking about? You’re the woman. After Darnell died, you went on to raise an amazing boy on your own. You’ve put your whole life on hold to be around to take care of Daddy. You’re amazing, Tanisha.”

  “But that’s just it, Trista. I didn’t put my life on hold. You think because I don’t have some high-powered job like you that I can’t possibly be happy. Just like you think that the way Amaya chooses to live her life isn’t right. But that’s just it, Trista—after the terrible relationship I had with Mommy, all I ever wanted to do with my life was have a family.” As I look at her, tears begin to flood her eyes.

  “I know you never thought much of Darnell, thought he was just some gang banger. But I loved him, Trista, and he loved me. We had a plan. We were talking about him leaving the gang life, and once I got pregnant he promised me he would. We just didn’t get out in time. After Darnell died I was determined to go on with our plan and give our little boy a loving home life. I never wanted him to feel like he didn’t measure up in my eyes. I
wanted Ty to know that his mother loved him unconditionally. I know my little job down at the phone company isn’t much, but it allows me to put food on the table and clothes on my child’s back, and we’ve got health insurance. And it allows me to give my son a positive example, and that’s what matters most to me.”

  Listening to her talk, I realize for the first time who my sister is, and I even feel like I am beginning to have a better understanding of who our mother was. She’s right—I judge people. I judged our mother, who I thought had turned her back on us because she didn’t care. I judged Tanisha and the important life she had created for her and her son. And I judged my friend Amaya.

  “I’m so sorry, Tanisha,” I say, looking at my sister. “You’re right. I’m very sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” she says.

  “For what?” I ask.

  “For never telling you how proud I am of you. By not doing that, I’m doing exactly what Mommy did. I am proud of you and what you’ve accomplished. And most importantly I’m sorry for not accepting your help all these years more graciously. You didn’t have to write all those checks. Mommy was right—you were the smart one and you used your brains to get out of the neighborhood and follow your dream. I admire that in you. And it’s because you did those things that I’m able to live with my son in a nice home in a safe neighborhood and don’t have to worry about him ending up on the same dead-end street as his father.”

  “But you know what? Now I don’t think I was totally doing all those things selflessly. I think there was a part of me that was trying to buy your respect with every check I wrote. With the house, the expensive gifts, the monthly checks. And if I couldn’t be there with you, Daddy, and Ty, it was because I was working so hard, I wanted you guys to have everything you needed and to make sure that I made enough money so none of us ever had to go back to the ghetto. I was making sure you guys were secure. And to prove to everyone that I was good enough to belong. All I wanted was for you and everyone else to respect me.”

  “I’ve always respected you,” she says earnestly. We both were quiet for a few minutes. Each lost in our own thoughts. I took a sip of my melting chocolate shake.

  “So what are you going to do now?” Tanisha asks.

  “I have no idea,” I said, throwing my hands up and letting my own tears fall onto the paper place mat on my tray. “For the first time in my life I don’t know what I’m going to do. Looking at my so-called master plan now, I don’t know what I’m going to do next. And for the first time in over ten years, I don’t even care. I’m just tired, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know,” she said coming over to my side of the booth. Sitting down next to me she put her arms around me for the first time I can remember. I let it all go and cried softly in my sister’s arms. I cried for my daddy who was dying upstairs. I cried for my wrecked career. I cried for ever giving Garrett even a piece of my heart. And I cried for Amaya and the horrible things I said to her. And I cried for the missed relationship with my sister, and I cried for my mother.

  “Oh, goodness,” I say when I pull away from her. “I’ve made such a mess.” I looked down at her blue blouse, which was soaked with my tears. I dabbed at the top with one of the paper napkins and then wiped my own face and nose.

  “That’s okay,” she says sincerely. “Now, if you can stand some more sisterly advice, I think you might need to give that guy Damon another chance.”

  “We’ve been through so much stuff this year that I don’t think we could ever have what we used to have,” I say, shaking my head. Although I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. I know he will be the one person who could really understand what this all means to me, who knows how hard I worked, how complicated my family relationships are, and won’t judge me, but I can’t bring myself to pick up the phone and return his calls. Not yet. Everything is too raw.

  “I don’t know, Trista,” Tanisha says and sips the last of her soda. “It sounds like that man still has serious feelings for you. Besides, your first love never dies.” I know she’s talking about Darnell as well as Damon. We both laugh softly and begin to pack up our trays when we hear an announcement.

  “Code blue, Dr. Irby, room 306,” calls Najee’s urgent voice over the hospital’s PA system. My sister and I both freeze as we realize that Daddy’s doctor is being paged to his room. Grabbing our purses, we hurry out to the elevator.

  WE ARE SHADED from the blazing afternoon sun by the white canvas tent. After Tanisha, Tyquan, and I take our seats on the brown plastic folding chairs in front of the polished oak casket I look around at all the people who have come out today. I am surprised to see that nearly a hundred people have come to his funeral. There are old men from the GE plant where he worked for 35 years, friends from the neighborhood, and my sister’s coworkers, and other family members I haven’t seen in years. Aunt Brenda, flanked by her sons, Jason and Jamel, faces us on the other side. Our family minister, Reverend Brooks, reads through the final rites and then calls Aunt Brenda up to sing “Amazing Grace.”

  After Daddy passed away, I stayed at the house with Tanisha to help make the final arrangements. When we called Crenshaw Gardens, where Mommy was buried, we found out that Daddy had planned his homecoming down to the last detail so that there was really very little for us to do. A steady stream of visitors came by the house to pay their respects and to drop off meals. The dining room table was barely visible under the weight of aluminum-foil-covered containers of casseroles, stews, chicken, and cobblers.

  I reach across Tyquan to take Tanisha’s gloved hand so we could walk up and place flowers on the casket. We both close our eyes and say silent prayers for his easy passage. After I lay one of the roses onto the casket, I return to my seat.

  When Reverend Brooks asks for Tyquan to come up to read a poem he and I had worked on to conclude the service, I’m not sure he’ll be able to do it. He turns to his mother and she kisses him, and when he takes the microphone from Reverend Brooks, he stands up straight and reads the three stanzas he had written for his grandfather. I look over at Tanisha, who is beaming at her son through her tears. When Ty reaches the closing words there isn’t a dry eye under the tent.

  “I love you, Grandpa. I’ll always love you,” Tyquan says as he wipes his eyes and places the single rose on top of the casket. Aunt Brenda starts humming “Amazing Grace” again as the line of mourners pay their final respects.

  After the service I tell Tanisha I will meet her and the rest of the family back at the house. I need to do something. I walk over to my mother’s plot, the heels of my shoes sinking into the grass. I haven’t been back to see her since the day she was buried. I kneel down on the ground and place my hand on her headstone. Bowing my head, I think about my conversations with Tanisha over the last few days. I am starting to get a better understanding of my mother. Tanisha showed me an old yellow hat box she had found in the top of Mommy’s closet after she passed that held all of my report cards and citations. She said the morning after I left for college she had walked in on Mommy looking through this box. I couldn’t believe she had kept all those things. A few of my tears fall on the sun-warmed marble, and then I place a rose at the base of the headstone.

  “I love you, Mommy,” I say. Then I say a short prayer for my parents, who are now reunited. When I start to get up I feel a hand on my shoulder. Turning around, I put my hand up to shield my eyes from the glare of the sun and I see Amaya’s face. I start crying again and hug her.

  “Amaya, I’m so sorry for those horrible things I said.” The words come rushing out as I cringe inwardly for all the hateful things I said to her in Las Vegas. Tanisha was right, I had tried to judge her life and her choices and hold her accountable to my own ridiculous standards. How can I ever hope she’ll forgive me?

  “I know, girl,” Amaya says, wiping away her own tears with a handkerchief. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, too.” We hug each other tightly, and then, looking over her shoulder, I see Viv standing behind her.

  “How
did you guys even know to come today?” I ask as I wiped my eyes and walked over to give Viv a hug.

  “I got the message you left when your father passed and then Tanisha called me at the magazine yesterday and gave me the details,” says Viv, holding my hand. “We just wanted to be here for you. Elise gets in tonight. I hope you’re not upset with Tanisha for calling me.”

  “How could I be upset with my sister for calling my best friends in the world?” I say, laughing for the first time in a few days. “I’m so glad to see you guys,” I say as I pull Viv and Amaya close and hug them both.

  “Ahem,” says another voice, coughing. “Are you glad to see all of us?” It’s Damon making his way from around the side of the tent. His suit jacket is draped over one arm and his shirt is wrinkled and his tie loosened. I look at Viv and Amaya quizzically.

  “Girl, after I called his office yesterday and told him about your dad, he flew back from New York this morning to be here,” whispers Amaya in my ear. Both of them smile at me.

  I walk over to Damon and hug him. “What are you doing here?” I ask, hoping for one simple answer.

  “I thought you might need me,” he says hopefully as he takes me in his arms and hugs me close. I wrap my arms around him and close my eyes. He’s right.

  17

  AMAYA

  Hey, it’s Clarence,” my lazy agent greets me as soon as I answer my cell. “I just wanted to double-check that you were all set for your meeting tonight.”

  “For the fifth time, I’m all set,” I answer totally exasperated. “Now quit calling, Clarence, you’re making me nervous.”

  “I’m so sorry, kitten,” he continues, “this dinner was just so hard to arrange.”

  “Clarence, please. I understand how hard it was for you to get this together. But you’ve only told me a thousand times,” I retort. “I do not want to talk about it anymore.” Lord have mercy, he can be so annoying. If Clarence were actually halfway competent, I guarantee it wouldn’t have been such a problem.