Banging his face against the limo window, Darius stared at the bench where the homeless woman sat only moments ago. Death follows you, echoed in his mind repeatedly.
Was his HIV test, taken years ago, a false negative?
AUTHOR’S MESSAGE
There’ll be no need for me to write an autobiography before I die. Death is inevitable, so periodically I’ll continue to share personal experiences of my life with my readers. The main reason I feel compelled to share is I know many of you have similar encounters and I’d rather have you know the real me as opposed to imagining that my world, my life, is ideal. Throughout my struggles, I stay positive and I love myself first, knowing that I am loved by God, judged by many, accountable to few, if any. I don’t shrink to let others shine but I do enjoy helping those who help themselves.
Family unity is crucial to the upbringing and development of our youth. I have to ask, “Who’s loving you? Who’s loving the children? Who’s listening? Who’s investing quality time? And who’s making love as opposed to having sex?” We become so consumed with daily tasks that often we forget to live, and more importantly we neglect to let the ones we love live their lives for themselves. Love begets love.
If it weren’t for my great aunt and uncle, Ella Beatrice Turner and Willie Frinkle, I’d know not the journey I’ve traveled. They reared my brothers Wayne and Derrick, my stepbrother Bryan, and me. Although I have four sisters, I didn’t grow up in the same household with them. But we are so close that if we didn’t tell anyone our story, they’d never suspect that our parents pawned us off to relatives in exchange for their . . . freedom, I suppose.
My biological father was more like a friend of the family who visited us for a few hours twice a year, usually once during the summer and again at Christmas, to say hello, give us a few dollars, and occasionally take us shopping. Sadly enough, those few hours spent made him a hero to us and we longed for next time to lay eyes upon our father, while taking for granted our aunt and uncle who provided food, clothing, and shelter, sent us to the best public schools, and loved us the best way they knew how.
When I asked my father as he lay in his hospital bed in January 1991, dying of stomach cancer, why he hadn’t raised us, he simply replied, “Bea, at the time you do what you think is best and if you live long enough you’ll see how you could’ve done better.” He continued, “I should’ve followed my first mind and sent all of you—your sisters and brothers—to live on this farm down in Texas with this family like I started to.” I thought to myself, “No way in hell would I have lived on a farm probably working like a slave for nobody.”
Oh well, after I was grown and relocated from New Orleans to Oakland, Daddy visited me three times a year. I guess a few memories are better than none at all. I knew his love and attempt to love us were genuine and I cherish the memories as I often share the good ones with my son, Jesse. In spirit, my son Jesse has fond memories of his Papa Joe although he was too young to remember the transition.
My biological mother was a complete stranger; I vividly remember spending only three precious moments in her presence. I can still see the pastel pink cardigan sweater she wore over a summer dress with sandals while walking me through the Magnolia projects in New Orleans to kindergarten class at Edgar P. Hornet. I can’t visualize the colors of her dress but I can see the material swaying below her knees over her thick red calves. Everyone called Mama “Red” because of her fair skin. So if you’re light-complected, and you’re visiting in N’awlins and someone says, “Hey, Red,” they’re talking to you.
Anyway, the next time I saw my mother I recall myself running away from Great Aunt’s home when I was eight years old. I walked down Magnolia Street to Washington Avenue to the ’Nolia projects that the rappers rap about, up the back fire escape, and knocked on my mother’s door. I don’t even think she realized I was in her one-bedroom apartment. My younger sister Margie and I sat in the living room. Mom was in the bedroom the entire time. After several hours, as the sun began to set, I thought I’d better get back home before they missed me. I was scared walking through the projects but by the grace of God, He made my way safely back to the house with the pink porch on the corner of First and Magnolia.
The final time I was in my mother’s presence, I’m not sure if she was in mine. The coffin sat in a chillingly cold funeral parlor on Drydes Street. My mother was separated from me by one row of folding chairs. Sitting next to my then-ten-year-old brother Derrick, I forced tears down my nine-year-old cheeks, afraid others would think I didn’t love Mommy if I didn’t cry. Truth was my hopes and endless dreams of experiencing motherly love were buried right along with my mother. Many years later I would accidentally find my mother’s death certificate. The cause of death documented was toxic overdose. I believe, fed up with my father’s chronic physical abuse, birthing eight, some say nine, children, burying my then baby sister Elizabeth, struggling in poverty, constantly relocating state to state as far north as New York to escape the madness, my mother checked out of this world like many others, simply tired of longing to belong, longing to be loved.
How can folk one day lay together making love or having sex, create in unison another life, then hate or abuse one another? I’ll never forget hearing my father say he was glad my mother was dead. I said, “Daddy, I don’t feel that way.” Wow, some folk are unforgiving even after death.
Looking back, in many ways I believe my father killed my mother’s spirit long before she stopped breathing. But perhaps my father’s mother was to blame, forcing him from her bosom and sending him to be raised by her sister. The same sister who raised us. And while I am grateful not to have experienced Texas, I still grew up in a household where the words “I love you” were unspoken. Not one single time.
But now I know that my great aunt and uncle, although they never told us, loved us dearly. How many people get up every day, go to work for white folk, and come home to raise four children, none of their own? That was pure love. And I am grateful to have had them.
If you choose love today, choose love tomorrow, because you always have a choice. With love, everyone can find his or her way through this unpredictable journey of peaks and valleys, successes and tragedies, called life.
I’m not sure if most parents these days realize that loving their kids and “being present” in a child’s life has a significant impact on the child’s future. Don’t talk at, but talk with your children. Every day, many times a day, my son and I say “I love you” to one another. We say it with feeling and each time the words are spoken they come from the heart, accompanied by hugs and/or kisses.
Remember who’s the parent and who’s the child. Don’t expect the child to take the initiative to cultivate the relationship because children don’t ask to be here. If you’re separated, divorced, or living together, don’t expect the other parent to facilitate a healthy bond between you and your child. Both parents are equally responsible for their child or children. Individuals who decide to have children must accept the obligation to rear the child in a healthy loving environment. Even if that environment requires two households.
Chances are you, too, have longed to be loved by your parents or a mate who invested little or no time in you. What could you have done to cultivate a loving relationship? Despite the negative things that may have happened to you, what are you thankful for?
I thank God for my guardian angels, my great aunt and uncle who made my life possible, thus allowing me to, I pray to God, fulfill my greater humanitarian purpose. To love my son and family unconditionally and share written words that will hopefully improve the way we as individuals love and respect one another. One person who cares can have a lifetime’s positive impact in the life of another human being. One hug. One kiss. One love. One day at a time.
What will you do today to make someone else’s life better tomorrow?
A READING GROUP GUIDE
NOTHING HAS EVER FELT LIKE THIS
MARY B. MORRISON
ABOUT THIS GUIDE<
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The suggested questions are intended to enhance
your group’s reading of this book
by Mary B. Morrison.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. How do you know when you’re in love? Does Darius love Fancy? Does Fancy love Darius? Are Jada and Wellington in love? Who taught you how to love? What is your definition of love?
2. Do you feel Darius should tell Fancy he might be HIV positive before he takes a test? Why? Do you think Ashlee was HIV positive and didn’t know it? Kevin? When was the last time you were tested?
3. Are some individuals incapable of loving anyone? Did Caroline ever try to love Fancy? Was Caroline jealous of Fancy? Or was Fancy jealous of her mother? Do you know any parents who are envious of their children?
4. Did Thaddeus really want to kill Fancy? Was Fancy responsible for Thaddeus’s incarceration? What if Thaddeus hadn’t physically abused Caroline? Was Thaddeus responsible for his own demise? Have you ever wrongfully accused anyone?
5. Should Thaddeus be angry at Caroline for agreeing to have an abortion, keeping the money he’d given her to have the abortion, but changing her mind without telling him? Should Jada have aborted her husband’s child without telling Lawrence? Do you think Jada was pregnant for Lawrence? What percentage of control should a woman have when deciding to have an abortion? Why?
6. Have you ever loved someone so much that you were willing to die for him/her or commit suicide or homicide?
7. Was Wellington justified in having an affair with Melanie for years? What about when Jada had an affair with Wellington during her marriage to Lawrence? Do you believe that certain behavioral traits are unbreakable? Once a cheater, always a cheater?
8. Did Mandy’s termination of Fancy’s sessions help or hurt Fancy? How? Was Mandy wrong for not allowing Fancy to continue her therapy? Should Fancy have hired another therapist?
9. Will Fancy marry Darius or Desmond? Why?
10. Will Darius marry Ashlee or Fancy? Why?
11. If Darius is HIV positive, how many individuals, directly and indirectly, do you estimate he could’ve infected? Do you believe that Darius will be spared once more from having HIV? Or does Darius deserve to have HIV?
12. Have you ever said “I love you” to someone because you felt obligated? Do you think you’ve been told those three words by a person who really didn’t love you? The next time you say “I love you, too,” think before you speak. The response has become so automatic that the words have become meaningless. Remember, meanings are in people, not in words.
13. Did the homeless woman truly have a gift from God to forecast Darius’s and Fancy’s future? Do you believe in psychics? Have you ever met a stranger who accurately predicted your future?
AUTHOR’S NOTE
My answer to the last discussion question is, yes, I have been given accurate predictions of my future. Twice. Once in 2000 in Detroit, Michigan, at a book conference, and again in Oakland. I did not and do not know these women nor did I ask them to tell me anything. But the first woman volunteered, never asked me for a dime, and she was accurate. My ex-husband owed me thousands of dollars in back child support. He could’ve opted to pay an additional $100 a month until he was paid in full or send one lump sum. Well, at the time I needed the lump sum. This woman told me, “Someone owes you restitution. And you’re worried about if you’re going to get it. Don’t worry. It’s already taken care of.” When I got home from the conference, my $7,000 check from my ex-husband was in the mail.
She said so many other things that were amazing and true but I’ll share just one more thing. She said, “You’ve never had hard times. But you will.” All of my adult life I’ve always financially maintained my household and helped others. In 2002, all of it, the entire year, you hear me, I was at the mercy of my family and friends. My car was repossessed, I was almost evicted, I sold my home, and I had to work at Best Buy and 24 Hour Fitness just to feed my child, and trust me, we couldn’t maintain our lifestyle off of minimum wage. I didn’t even know what minimum wage was. Honestly. But the Kees of Kees Realty loaned me $7,000, my play-mom Barbara Cooper $3,600, my sister Andrea $2,000, my sister Regina $2,000, Gail Fred, who could’ve evicted me, didn’t, and so forth. My girlfriend Carmen Polk said to me, “I don’t know why you’re complaining. You still live in that expensive-ass apartment, your son is still in private school, you got your Lexus, y’all eat every day. Mary, you haven’t lost a thing.” She was right. So I interpreted my lesson from God as “people need people.” Before 2002 I never knew what it felt like to truly need anybody. I wouldn’t give back that year in exchange for anything. Because I now know what it feels like to need somebody; therefore, I have a greater appreciation for all individuals irrespective of social status or income. In the midst of adversity, never forget to give thanks and count your blessings.
The second woman asked for ten dollars and thus far some of what she said has come to pass. She said, “Before the end of the week, there will be a tragedy. Don’t become consumed with the problem. If you don’t do anything else I tell you, take a yoga class this week.” I was like, “You sure? Everything in my life is fine.” But I had nothing to lose by taking a class. I’m already a member at Club One so I went to yoga on Thursday, and on Friday the family tragedy occurred. A suicide attempt. Thanks to her advice, I was the calmest family member throughout the situation, and thereby was able to peacefully console my sibling. She also said, “You’ll receive a promotion. January. February. I can’t see what.” Again I said, “You sure? I work for myself.” Well, January and February 2005, I was, thanks to all of you, #1 on the Essence bestsellers list. Some of this psychic’s other predictions have come to pass, as well. And although I honestly believe some individuals possess the gift of sight, I don’t suggest you seek them. If it’s meant for you to meet a psychic, my personal belief is they will reveal themselves to you.
It’s not when you set someone free
Excuse me your majesty
But you cannot possess
That which does not belong to thee
You see lovers are not property
So what if you’ve tied the knots
Of forget me nots
To have and to hold
Until death do you part
Well that sounds smart
Or clever
Whateva
But love does not require a signature
Or license
Or a spoken word
No nouns
No people
No actions
No verbs
How do you know when you are in love
It’s simple
When you’re willing to give
The life you live
The ultimate price
Sacrifice
Love does not lie
True love is when you are willing to die
In order to let someone else live
Who do you love
DAFINA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
850 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10022
Copyright © 2005 by Mary B. Morrison
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Dafina Books and the Dafina logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
Library of Congress Card Catalogue Number: 2004110758
ISBN: 978-0-7582-0729-6
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