by M. R. Joseph
She shakes her head and sadness appears on her angelic face.
“Why not, Haven? I thought your grandma paid for the extra help.” She sits up and crosses her arms and legs and sighs.
“Nah. Grandma said we didn’t have the money or the time and she told me not to ask Nana Joce for the money ‘cause she was busy and didn’t have it.”
Anger rages inside me, and I don’t want Haven to know I’m feeling the way I am. Internally, I battle with it wanting to tell her, “Your grandmother lied and used the money to go on a stupid trip instead, and if your dad were here—trust me, this would not have happened.”
But of course I don’t. God, that woman is just as manipulative and devious as her daughter.
“Haven, I will make sure when you go back to your grandma’s that you will get those lessons. I’m sorry you can only take them in Merrick. It’s too much for Nana Joce to take you back and forth. If Uncle Steve didn’t have to work he would pick you up and take you.”
She hunches over, sad, but her face lights up with what looks like the beginning of an idea she just conjured up.
She bounces and takes my hands pulling me up from my laying position.
For her to lift me up proves the child is strong.
Like her daddy.
“Rinny, you could take me, couldn’t you? You could get me after school and take me and watch me, then drive me back to Grandma’s.”
As she speaks, I shake my head no. Sadness taking up room in my heart. I can’t tell her why I can’t drive. I can’t even tell her why we have to be driven down to this spot by my dad. I use the first excuse I can think of.
“Oh, Haven, I’m so sorry love, but right now I can’t. See, my car is broken down, and it won’t be fixed for a while, so I can’t drive you.”
Excuses for me nowadays come in all shapes and sizes. I have become the master of them when it comes to Haven. My heart aches when I have to lie to her, but it’s something that I must do. She can’t know about me. I’ll cause her more pain and anguish.
Her bright eyes grow wide with hope as she continues, “Well then you can train me, Rinny! You did it last season; you can do it again. When I come on my weeks with Nana Joce, you can work with me. No one hits the ball like you, Rinny. No one. Even Daddy told me that. Remember?”
Yes, sweet girl. I do remember. I remember it all.
“I can’t, Haven. I just can’t. Please try to understand how busy I am right now. I wouldn’t have the time.”
She begins to cry, and my heart breaks a little more with each tear that slides down her sweet little cheeks. She turns her body away from me so her back is to me and she sobs into her hands. I place my hand on her back to soothe her.
“Haven …”
She snaps her body away. “No! Why doesn’t anyone want to spend time with me like I want them to? Grandma is always with the ladies from her church. Nana is always going somewhere. You just sit around at Aunt Mae’s and Uncle Steve’s. You don’t even work anymore. Daddy is away, and he doesn’t know when he’s coming back. In his letters he tells me he’ll be home soon, but he’s been gone so long, and I want my daddy, Rinny. I want to see my daddy. Why isn’t he coming home? He missed Christmas and my birthday, and Valentine’s Day. He’s missing everything. Now he’s going to miss softball season. I want my daddy.”
I use all my strength and pull her tiny body to mine. Her back is resting upon my chest and I hold her. She may not be mine biologically, but she’s my daughter in every sense of the word. I rock her in my arms and kiss her head.
“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry. I know you want Daddy.” Here come my deceitful lies. It’s all I can give her. Especially when it comes to anything that has to do with Mack.
“Haven, your daddy is doing something very important. His job is very important. He works for the whole country and the whole country needs him right now. He doesn’t want to let anyone down.”
She turns around in my arms to look at me. Her face is streaked with tears and her little freckles are more pronounced as the color in her face reddens even more with each new tear appearing in her eyes.
“But he’s letting me down, Rinny. I should be first.”
This child is so wise beyond her years, and it scares me because I’m afraid someone at school will realize she’s Mack’s daughter and tell her the truth. It’s national news. God forbid anyone says something to her. God forbid a little brat from her school overhears a parent talking about it, and Haven puts two and two together. Thank God that idiotic woman has enough sense to allow Haven to watch only an hour of TV a night and, thankfully, it’s a kid’s channel.
I grab her shoulders and use a finger to lift her chin that’s now pointed down.
“Haven, he would never let you down. You are his world, and if he could be here right now he would. Believe that, sweet girl.”
“I feel like I have no one.”
I give her a stern look and grab her face gently with my hands. I force her to look into my eyes.
“Hey, that’s nonsense. You have Nana and your grandma, and Aunt Mae and Uncle Steve … and you have me, Haven. You will always have me. I’ll always be here for you. I always have been.”
I try to choke back my tears, but the lump in my throat won’t allow me to. My eyes are brimming with the tears I want to shed for her pain. For all of our pain. Mack’s absence is tearing us all apart. I regain my composure because I don’t want her to see me cry. I don’t want her to see me in pain. So I hide it—I bury my pain like I bury the truth from her.
“You, Haven Cooper, are the love of my life. I may not have given birth to you, but I’m your mother in every way. I was there when you were born. I was there when your dad first held you. I was there for all the firsts. Your first tooth, your first step, your first boo-boo.” I poke at her nose, and she cracks a small smile.
“I was there when you rode a two-wheeler for the first time, and I was there for your first day of school. Your first home run—I’ve been there for it all, and I will continue to be. Don’t you dare ever think differently, either.” I grab her and hold her to me. I cradle her in my arms like a baby. I have done this since she was a baby. She didn’t come from my womb, but I have given her the love of a mother. I have given this child my heart and my soul. I would give her my last breath, too, if she needed it.
She relaxes in my arms, and I run her curls through my fingers. She has the same hair color as Mack, and it feels like his too. I close my eyes and remember what it was like to touch his hair. She’s a part of him. Just because she’s not my blood doesn’t mean she isn’t part of me.
“Haven, what do the letters from daddy say?”
My anger spikes when I realize she said letters from daddy. A sixth sense tells me that Grace is behind this.
“Um … well that he is working hard at being a hero, but he loves me and he’ll be home soon.”
I close my eyes, and I feel the working muscles in my body tighten with aggravation.
I know I’m lying to Haven—we all are, but Grace has gone too far. What was she thinking? Why wouldn’t she discuss this with Jocelyn? Doesn’t she know how smart Haven is, and eventually she would have asked Jocelyn why there aren’t any letters from Mack during her weeks with Haven? I swear that woman has no brain.
The sun is beginning to go down, and I should call my dad to come and get us. I release Haven and go into my bag to get my phone.
“It’s getting late. We’ve been here all day, so I’m going to call Uncle Steve to come get us.” As I dial the phone Haven grabs my hand to stop me.
“Rinny. I … um … I have something I want to talk to you about. Can I …”
“Sure, sweetie. What’s up?” A serious look comes upon her face, and it scares me a little.
“Last night before I went to sleep I went into the bathroom to pee and I …”
“What, Haven? You what?”
“I saw blood down there. On my underwear.”
Holy shit.
I
swallow and calm my breathing because I’m about to hyperventilate.
“And then what? Did you tell your grandma?”
Haven bites her lip and a blush appears on her face, clearly embarrassed, I diffuse that.
“You didn’t tell her.” She shakes her head no. “Was it a lot of blood?” She shakes her head again no.
“Okay, well that’s good. Is it still happening?” She starts to cry again and nods.
“What are you doing to stop it?”
Sniffling back her sobs she tells me, “Socks.”
Holding back my giggle at her confession. “Socks? You have socks in your underwear?”
She nods and falls back on the blanket.
How could none of us prepare her for this? The child is almost eleven. We’ve been so wrapped up in everything else to realize that this child was growing up.
Damn you, Mack. You had to go, didn’t you? You should be here for this. Your child is now a woman. You missed this.
I reach for my phone again and call my dad, telling him we were ready to come home and to let Jocelyn know to have a tub ready for Haven.
I lean over her and smooth some unruly curls from her face.
“Hey, listen. This is perfectly normal. Don’t be afraid. We’re going to go back to Nana’s and I’ll explain everything then. Uncle Steve is coming to get us now.”
I cup her cheek and she leans into the palm of my hand. She is the mirror image of Mack. Sometimes I still can’t believe she’s his.
I text my mom quickly.
Mom—Haven got her period. She just told me. Please go run some of my stuff over to Jocelyn’s. She has no idea what is happening and I need to explain it all to her.
As I gather up our gear, putting our lunch and snack trash in a bag, my phone dings and I look at the screen to see it’s my mom.
Oh boy, I’m on it. See you in a few.
I hear my dad’s car pull up behind us. When he gets out and reaches our spot, he greets us with all smiles but notices something is off with Haven.
He crouches down to meet her face. “What’s wrong, honey bear?” Shaking my head and mouthing the word ‘no’, I motion to my dad to close his mouth. He looks at me confused but just shrugs and walks over to me. He grabs my one hand and one of my elbows. He hoists me up and off the blanket. It takes a try or two, but I’m up. Haven narrows her eyes at us.
“Uncle Steve, why do you have to help Rinny up like that?”
I look to my dad and his eyes meet mine not knowing how to answer her question.
The liar in me answers her.
“Oh, I hurt my knee the other day, and I’m having a bit of trouble getting up from sitting. No big deal.”
She purses her lips. I’m not too sure she believes me. I’m becoming more accustomed to this, and I hate it. Lie after lie.
“You’ve been falling a lot lately, Rinny. You need to be more careful.” Haven shakes her head and chuckles at my incompetent clumsiness.
I begin think about what Grace has done with the false letters from Mack and realization sinks in that I’m no better than she is. Master manipulators. Master liars.
We are masters of this craft, and only because we both want to protect this precious child from any hurt.
As soon as we get back to Jocelyn’s house, Haven bathes and then I take her to the back porch and explain to her about her period, among other things. I asked Jocelyn if it was okay that I gave her ‘the talk’ and, of course, she was perfectly fine with it. She knows I’m her mother in a way.
I explain the whole process to her and why it happens. It’s a lengthy conversation and one I never expected to have. I don’t know why I think that way. If Mack was here and we were married, I would have been able to adopt her as my own. She would be mine to have this conversation with. She would call me Mommy, and I would call her daughter, and we would be that legally forever.
Mack’s not here. She’s not mine, even though she is. There’s nothing I can do about it.
She’s grossed out and disappointed when she finds out that this only happens to girls. She says it’s unfair. Boys have it easier than girls. I agree with her, but I tell her that when God made women there was a purpose behind why this happens. It’s so people like her would be brought into the world. She asked if it happened to her mother and if that’s how she got here. I nod and tell her yes. I also tell her that her mom and dad were in love and that people who are in love make babies. Internally, I want to shout, “Your mother was a drugged out whore who hid it from everyone and she used your dad. He didn’t love her. It was a mistake. You were a mistake, but you turned out not to be.”
Of course I don’t say that. She was only ten days old when her mother died. She has no idea nor would we ever say anything bad about mother. There are things she doesn’t need to know. When I think about what she put Haven through—what she put Mack through, I feel sick. So sick that she would have been so selfish to keep shooting up when she was pregnant. The angry person that I have become over these past months makes me glad she’s dead. She wasn’t worthy of life. She hurt the two people I love the most in this world, and I hope hell has no ice water for her. I hope her soul is burning. She used Mack for her gain. For her selfish, whorish ways. She trapped him. She got him drunk and stoned, and she got him to sleep with her without protection.
The outcome of their relationship is sitting next to me right now, and my heart has so much love for her that all the good, which is her, outweighs the bad. If it didn’t happen, if that whore hadn’t sunk her claws in him, she wouldn’t be here. I have to forgive and forget. It’s hard to forgive a dead person. Haven should have been mine. Mack wouldn’t have to be drunk and stoned to make love to me. We would have been older, and not only more mature in our relationship, but in life as well. But some things don’t work out the way you want. This I had to learn the hard way.
Haven is the only thing that worked out in the situation, and I thank God for that every day.
MACK & CORRINE ~ MAY 2003
“Rinny, work with me here, please. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
I stick another shirt and tie inside the dressing room door with only my hand. Frustrated, I shake it at him as my head is still on the outside.
“Jesus, Mack. Just try it on. I’m doing the best I can.”
He groans, and I go sit in the chair across from the door where he’s hidden. It’s only the second dress shirt and tie he’s tried on for prom, and the first one he didn’t even let me see.
He yells from inside.
“Really? Seafoam green? What are you trying to do to me?”
I know exactly what I’m doing. I want him to look like crap. Why? ‘Cause he’s going to prom with crap. Said crap is Veronica Matthews. I hate her. She’s not right for Mack. I know his type and she’s not it. I’m not even sure what he sees in her. He doesn’t go for the girly-girls. He goes for either the smart or athletic ones. Veronica Matthews is neither.
Dumb as a rock, she wears way too much lipstick, and she shakes her pom poms like they’re an appendage. She fawns all over him like some tramp. She has since the seventh grade. She makes me sick. Flipping that hair off her shoulder at his locker and laughing over-enthusiastically at his unfunny jokes.
“You think Veronica is going to like me in this color, Rinny? She only wears pink. She may not like it.”
I don’t fucking care if the bitch likes it or not, Mack. She’ll hate it and I’ll love that she hates it.
“Oh, please. You could wear a burlap sack and she’d love it.”
She’s going to hate that color. Ha! Take that, bitch.
I toss my hair over my shoulder and mimic Veronica’s high-pitched squeaky voice quietly so Mack doesn’t hear.
“Oh, yes, Mack. You look so hot, Mack. You’re so funny, Mack. No one is as funny as you, Mack. The way you swing a bat, Mack. No one swings like you, Mack.”
He’s not that funny, and I swing better than he does.
I stick my finger into
my mouth and pretend to gag.
I still can’t believe it’s our senior prom.
Our junior prom last spring was downgraded to casual dress and was just in our school’s cafeteria because of 9/11. People in our school voted on it. The reason was that it was morally irresponsible for our student body to celebrate prom when three thousand people died and the city was in turmoil.
Since we live so close to New York City, you could see and smell the smoke in the sky. The skies were bluer than blue but the odor of death and destruction lingered in the air. Wherever you went, people were crying. Driving around, you saw children on every street corner crying and holding their father’s fire helmet—hanging onto some kind of hope they’d come home. Many local people never did. We spent days upon days going to churches and masses for the missing or the dead. Everyone knew someone affected by the tragedy. A turn of a head and you knew someone who knew someone. This included us.
Mack’s dad, John, died in the South Tower.
We were in school when we heard screaming. TVs were turned on in the classrooms that had them and I knew John worked there. As soon as I saw, I ran from my classroom to Mack’s. I knew what class he was in, and I knew I needed to get to him. When I reached his classroom, I threw open the door and scanned the room for him. The students knew why I was there and some just cried and pointed to the hallway. I figured that meant he was at his locker. I ran as fast as my legs could take me—around the corner past the gym and the workout room. I saw him at his open locker, but he wasn’t moving. His hand was on the top of it, and his body leaned into the open door. I couldn’t see his face. I stood there for what felt like forever. I was frozen as I waited to see some kind of movement. I unsteadily walked towards him. When I reached his locker, I placed my hand on top of his. Despite not seeing my face, Mack knew it was me.
“Rinny, do you think he’s dead?” That’s all he said to me. I told him I didn’t know, but we needed to get to his mom. Jocelyn was home. Hopefully Mom was with her. I prayed she was.
When Mack raised his head out of the confines of his locker, there was nothing there. No emotion. His eyes were empty at the prospect of his father being dead. When I saw this, I raised my hand and stroked his scar. I’m saying sorry, even if I wasn’t sure I needed a reason to be sorry. His face fell into my hand, and then his body fell into my arms. He didn’t cry, he didn’t say a word. I held him as the cries of people inside their classrooms and offices filled the empty hallways.