I nod my head at him and keep kicking my legs while I wait on Mama. My tummy feels like someone is shaking me upside down. I can finally hear heels clacking on the floor, and I turn my head in the direction of the sound. My mama falls to her knees in front of my chair. Her face is all red and puffy. She looks like she wants to cry, but is holding it in really tight.
“Oh, Cherry, honey…. I’m so sorry.” She is sobbing at this point. “Your daddy is gone.”
I don’t understand what Mama is saying. My hands are sweating, and I have so many questions.
“Gone? What do you mean? Where would he go? Daddy wouldn’t go anywhere without taking us with him. Why wouldn’t he take us with him?”
The questions come out of my mouth really fast until Mama shushes me, and then it sinks in; the conversation with Daddy earlier, and I instantly know what Mama is going to tell me. I can deny it all I want, but it’s here; the day I was dreading.
“Hush, Charisa,” Mama says to me. “Your daddy is in heaven. It wasn’t your time to go, but Jesus needed him so he called him home.” Mama keeps crying and squeezing me really tight as she rocks us both back and forth. I sit here as still as a statue, not able to move, because my heart is hurting inside my chest and my tummy is so sick. My feet feel really heavy and my mouth is dry. Even my eyes are dry. This can’t be happening. I’m supposed to have my daddy forever.
Mama takes my hand and pulls me up from my chair. We say goodbye while we grab my coat and personal belongings from my locker. I’m allowed to leave early so I can be with Mama and Grams, but they don’t have time for me. I get in the back seat of the car and Mama leans over me, making sure my seatbelt is on tight like she used to before I could do it myself. I stare out the side window, but I’m not really seeing anything. I have a hard lump stuck in my throat and another in my stomach, because I know I’ll never get to snuggle with Daddy again. At the thought of Daddy, my tears start and they don’t stop. I can see Mama watching me in the rearview mirror and I can tell that she is worried about me. When we get home I hurry to jump out of the car. I don’t want to talk to Mama or even Grams. I just want to lie in bed and be alone. I’m used to it now anyways.
Chapter Six
Cherry
Things are busy at our house. I never knew planning the funeral would take two days. I’m out of sorts and desperately want someone to spend some time with me. I’m bored, which makes me feel really unloved and lonely, so I look at Mama and ask, “Mama, will you play Barbies with me?”
I can already see from Mama’s face that I’m not going to like her answer. “Charisa, I told you before, I don’t have time for silliness.” She doesn’t even look at me when she speaks. “I have too much to do to prepare for this funeral. You’ll need to keep yourself busy.” She’s already off and doing something else, leaving me standing here unsure of what to do with myself.
I sit in the corner of the living room, trying to get out of the way, and missing my daddy and his big, strong arms. I miss burrowing my face into his neck and smelling him while I fall asleep. Even more, I miss twirling my fingers in his hair while we watched TV. Now, no one notices me or pays attention to me. I’m always in Mama’s way.
Everyone is supposed to be coming over to see Mama and offer their condolences. Grams told me that word means that people are very sorry for us that Daddy is gone. I think it’s strange that they bring food when they come. It’s supposed to be sad, not a party. Parties have lots of food. I can hear Grams mumbling to herself that she isn’t sure where she is going to put it all. I don’t care about the people, the food, or the dumb condolences. I just want my daddy. I really miss my daddy. I may just be a kid, but this all feels wrong.
Maybe Grams has some time for me. I find her in the kitchen, where she’s humming under her breath. I take a deep breath and straighten my posture. “Hey Grams, what are you doing with those flowers?”
She seems surprised to hear my voice, because she jumps and looks at me over her shoulder. “Oh, Cherry, sweetie, you startled me. I’m just trimming all the ends off the flowers so the blooms will open up, nice and big.”
The house smells and looks pretty from all the flowers that are being sent to us. Grams looks at me and says, “Flowers are a way for people to give some love and sunshine on a rainy day. They make people happy. Isn’t it nice that so many people are thinking of us in our time of need?” I nod my head in agreement. It is very nice of them to send us flowers for our rainy day. It’s been raining over here for a while now.
I leave the kitchen, because clearly Grams doesn’t have time for me. I’m upset, because either the house is too quiet and gloomy, with no daddy, or it’s full of nosy people everywhere. I wish they would all just go home. I’m back to sitting in the corner and notice a lady talking to Mama. I guess people have already started to arrive.
“So what are you going to do now, Cindy?” I overhear her ask Mama, even at this distance. I don’t even care about the answer. It doesn’t matter to me anyway. I’m just a little kid. No one cares what I think anymore. The only person that really ever did is gone.
When everyone is gone and the house is quiet, I can hear Mama and Grams talking in the kitchen. Mama is waving her hands around again like she is upset. “I just can’t stand all these nosy people, Mom. They have some kind of nerve with the questions they ask.” Grams can barely keep track of Mama, because she is walking back and forth so fast. I see Grams reach out and grab Mama by the arms. “I know dear; so many people with so many opinions. You do the right thing and it doesn’t matter what they think.”
I just miss my daddy. I’m scared and I’m really lonely. Mama doesn’t have a whole lot of time for me and it makes me really sad. Even Grams is busy helping Mama.
***
Finally, after all the arrangements have been made, we are having the funeral for Daddy. I’m standing in my best dress at the bottom of the stairs, waiting on Mama so we can leave for the church. I can hear Mama coming down the stairs, but when she sees me her mouth goes really thin and she points up the stairs behind her. “Get upstairs immediately, young lady, and take off that costume. That is inappropriate for church and better suited for Halloween. What on earth are you thinking?”
I can tell Mama is really upset with me, but I’m really angry too. This was Daddy’s favorite dress, because he said I looked like a princess. I take a deep breath and shout back at her. “I don’t think you’re being fair. In fact, you’re mean. That’s all you ever are anymore!” I stomp all the way up the stairs to put on the dress Mama laid out for me. I look like a baby. I’m a big girl. I hate this dress. Mama smiles and nods as I walk back down the stairs, but I don’t say a word to her. I just get in the car and sit there, angry.
I don’t want to look at or talk to Mama. She makes me so mad. I know Daddy would have wanted me to look like his princess instead of wearing this stupid, itchy dress. Mama really hurt my feelings when she said my princess dresses are only costumes meant for playtime. She is being just plain old mean and I don’t like it; not one little bit. I don’t know if I’m ever going to get over my hurt and talk to Mama again. I’m still huffing under my breath when we get to the church. If it weren’t for my daddy I wouldn’t even want to be here, so I follow Mama inside even though I don’t want to.
I halt inside the door. I can’t stop looking at the front of the church. Daddy is up there, lying in that long box.
I tug on Grams sleeve after we sit on the pew. “Why is Daddy in that big fancy box?” Grams looks at me and smiles. She leans her head over to whisper in my ear. “That’s called a casket, dear.” Grams always tries to make time for me. I keep kicking my legs out in front of me. I’m fidgety and can’t sit still. Daddy would have said that I had “ants in my pants”. I smile as I think about my daddy, but then my eyes fill up with tears. I miss my Daddy. I look over to see that Mama’s mouth is in a really thin line as she looks at me. All of the sudden her hand shoots out and grabs my leg really hard, before she says, “Stop your
fidgeting. This isn’t appropriate behavior for church.” I can’t seem to do anything right for Mama. I think I might hang on to my mad for a little longer.
I can’t wait another minute, and I don’t care what Mama or anyone else has to say, but I need to see my Daddy. I stand and walk to the front of the church. I can hear all of the talking going on behind me. I reach the casket and look down to see him. It looks like Daddy, but it doesn’t. This daddy looks plastic, like he’s not real. His skin kind of looks like those pretend people in the mall windows that advertise the clothes, the one’s Mama calls manikins. Only daddy still has human features. He doesn’t look like a boy is supposed to look. This daddy has on lipstick. I want to wipe it off. My daddy would never wear makeup. Makeup is for girls. I reach into the casket and hold his hand. It’s really cold. I start crying, and then I can’t stop. I cry so hard that snot starts to drip from my nose to my mouth. I need a Kleenex, but I don’t want to leave my daddy. I stay here till my Mama comes to take me away.
She grabs me around the waist and says, “It’s time for us to go, Charisa. Say goodbye.”
I look at Mama and start hitting her with my fists as I scream. “No, I want my Daddy! This is all a lie, and you’re mean. I’m not going to say goodbye. I want my Daddy. You did this. I love my daddy.”
I’m kicking and screaming. Grams comes up to help Mama with me. I’m crying so loud, and probably making a scene, but I’m just not ready to say goodbye yet. I just want my daddy to come back. Why did he have to die?
What’s going to happen now? Who will help me with my homework or my ouchies? Who will call me Princess Cherry Berry or walk me down the pretty aisle when I get married? This is messing up everything.
I’m not ready for goodbye. It’s too soon. I was supposed to have more time.
Chapter Seven
Cherry
14 years later…
He gives me a soft smile and runs his hands up and down my arms. He’s always telling me how special and beautiful I am. I’m not beautiful…. am I? Every time he is near, my heartbeat goes crazy. Am I falling for him? He makes me feel important and loved, like I’m a princess and he’s my very own prince charming. I hug myself and a big grin escapes. He’s my future, my savior, and my ticket out of hell….
I sit up in bed with a gasp. I’m up every morning at the same time without fail, usually ripped out of sleep by yet another nightmare, except my nightmares are my reality, and trust me when I say it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I sigh as I drag my hands through my hair, pushing back the worn and itchy bed linens, with the weight of my misery lying heavily across my shoulders. The cot has several springs that have popped out and it squeaks whenever I move, making for a loud and uncomfortable sleep. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, because it could be worse. This is home to me, my safe haven. I yawn widely as I shuffle to the bathroom, which is only about ten steps away from my bed. There’s only a sink and a toilet, so the only way to bathe is via sponge baths at the sink, but it’s better than nothing. I run the tap to warm up the water and think back over the last year.
“Hey Kid,” says Mr. Roland. “You in trouble or something? You’re in here a lot,” he says, while wiping down the table beside me. The Dinner Roll is a local diner that has become familiar to me, and he’s right, I’ve been in here a lot.
“No Sir,” I tell him softly. “I’m not in trouble. I just can’t go home.” I watch his face carefully, wondering if he’s going to make me leave for occupying space without proper financial contribution. I’m in here all the time and have only spent a total of three dollars on tea, but it’s warm and dry here, and I don’t like it at the local shelter.
“Listen,” he says. “I’ve got a room in the back that you’re welcome to use.” He still isn’t looking at my face, just scrubbing away at a very clean table.
“Thank you, Sir,” I say, while choking back the tears that want to flow. “That is so kind of you. Would you happen to have a job available?” I ask him quietly, unsure of what he’ll say, as my knees start jumping up and down under the table. I’m hopeful he has something for me. I need to earn some money.
“Yeah, sure kid,” he says, finally looking at me. “You can work the day shift. I’ll deduct a small fee to pay your rent, but you can eat three meals for free,” he finishes quietly.
Mr. Roland was kind enough to put me on the schedule and didn’t push me for more information about why I couldn’t go home. The room I’m using is at the back of the diner and isn’t much, but it’s mine and better than being at the shelter with absolutely no privacy. I have the small cot and his wife provided me several changes of bedding, a pillow, and several towels. In addition, she brought me basic necessities that every girl needs until I could start making some form of a salary. I cried as she handed me the basket. She didn’t know me from a stranger on the street, but she’s been so kind since the day she laid eyes on me. Her eyes looked sad as she ran her hands down my arms, clucking her tongue. Just like Mr. Roland, she doesn’t say much, just smiles as nods, but I could tell she pitied me.
At first I was staying at the local shelter, but quickly learned the other patrons steal from each other, often taking the shoes right off your feet. It’s hard to better yourself when you can’t even keep basic necessities. Mr. Roland changed all of that. I’ve been here a year now, thankful for all of his kindness.
Since he let me start staying here I work constantly, taking every day shift, as well as any shifts the other employees don’t want. Some days I end up working sixteen-hour shifts. At the day’s end, I fall into bed, physically exhausted and hoping for a seven-hour sleep that is uninterrupted. So far I haven’t been lucky in that regard, due to my dreams taking over and sucking me into a mire of misery.
The burn of the hot water on my hand pulls me out of my head, bringing me back to the present. I need to hurry or I’m going to be late. I can’t seem to focus well. I finish my sponge bath quickly, and rinse out the washcloth, hanging it and the towel on the rack that was provided once I’m done.
I sigh, as I pull on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, finishing off my uniform by tying the apron on over it, and then slip my feet into my runners. I’m needed on the floor to open in ten minutes. The regulars will be waiting. I grab my hair and twist it up into a knot on the top of my head, securing it with a band as I exit from the back room and walk into the kitchen to see Mr. Roland already hard at work.
“Good Morning,” I call out with a smile. “I’ll get the coffee started,” I say quietly. Mr. Roland doesn’t say much, giving me the odd grunt or smile. I often feel like I need to fill the empty and quiet space, and find myself stating the obvious. I hurry to get all the coffee burners going and head out front to open the doors. We have about ten regulars who come in every day to enjoy a cup of coffee and to read the newspaper. One gentleman in particular, Roger, loves coming in to read a good old-fashioned paper as he calls it.
“Good Morning, Doll,” says Roger as he sits in his usual spot at the counter.
“Morning, Roger,” I say with a smile. I pour him his coffee and hand him a crisp newspaper. “Will it be your usual today?” He smiles and nods at me while pulling a pair of glasses out of his shirt pocket and slipping them on. I watch as he unfolds the paper and takes his first sip of coffee. Roger is a good-looking man with brown hair and eyes, always sporting a calm demeanor. I’d estimate he is in his early thirties. He’s very likeable and he always sits in my section of the diner. He refuses to let anyone else wait on him, and I like that about him. It makes me trust him.
I head to the back to put his order in with the cook and let my mind wander. I’ve done nothing but think over the last twelve months. I have too much empty time on my hands, obviously, because my mind is consumed with my past and all that’s happened to me. Things really changed after we lost daddy, and not in a good way. Daddy’s illness took a toll on Mama and it changed her, making her bitter and angry all the time. Everything she had worked so hard for had changed in a hea
rtbeat. While I understand it, that doesn’t mean it was ok for her to treat me the way she did, her own blood. I know how precious love and life are, and I’m never going to put myself out there for someone to hurt me or crush my dreams. I rinse the coffee carafe and pop another filter in for a fresh pot.
“Another usual for Roger,” I shout out to our short order cook. He shoots me a smile over his shoulder while he’s singing about bringing sexy back. I didn’t even know men sang along to Justin Timberlake. It makes me laugh. He’s always singing along to the radio, and he has an incredible voice. I tell him daily that he should apply to X Factor or American Idol, because he’s that good.
I let my mind wander again as I stand waiting for the food at the window, thinking back to Daddy’s funeral and the days and weeks following. The insurance money didn’t last long, and Mama couldn’t afford to run that large house on one income. We had to sell everything we owned, and just because I was a child didn’t mean I was spared. My treasured Princess Barbies collection, still in the original boxes, was sold to a girl I went to school with. At one time we were friends, but by the time she purchased my collection we were pretty much enemies. I remember being sick with envy and wanting to tear the smile right off of her face. She was always taunting me and she enjoyed it.
“Order up,” shouts our cook as he dings the bell. His voice startles me out of my reverie and I hurry to grab the plate while the food is still hot, rushing it out to Roger with a smile.
“Here you go,” I say while setting the plate on the table, sliding it directly in front of him. “Is there anything else I can get you?” It’s my job to ask, but every morning it’s the same thing and the same answer.
“Not a thing, doll,” he says with a wink. I turn to walk away when he calls out to me. “Wait.” I stop and turn to face him. “Take this card,” he says while sliding it across the counter towards me. “I’ve got a job with your name on it if you’re interested. You can make a hell of a lot more money than you do here.” I pick up the card and look at it carefully: Pair-a-dice Gentleman’s club. Roger Wainwright, CEO. My eyes rise from the card to look at Roger, the question evident on my face.
Accepting Cherry Page 4