Two Tears in a Bucket

by Traci Bee

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  “Where you going?”

  “I was coming to make sure you were a’ight, but I see your boyfriend’s taking care of you.”

  “My boyfriend? Andre, he’s an old man.”

  “Yeah, whatever. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Where’d your husband go?” the groundskeeper asked as Andre’s car disappeared.

  Engulfed in her emotions, Simone couldn’t even respond. Instead, she looked to the heavens and cried, “You see what you left me here with?”

  The groundskeeper gingerly strolled to Thomas’s grave site. Standing before Simone, he studied her as she sat in the midst of the dying flowers.

  “Sweetheart,” he said in a raspy voice, grunting as he knelt down next to her. “I’ve seen you out here crying by your lonesome the last few days, and God wanted me to tell you that your father is fine. He’s in a place far better than what we have here on earth. A place so marvelous that the entire city is made of gold and jewels.”

  The groundskeeper’s eyes slowly closed as he recited the wonders of the spiritual place. “A place where pain and suffering no longer exist and people live in the everlasting arms of peace and love. Umm…man, oh man,” he said, snickering just a bit as he opened his eyes. “I get excited just thinking about it.”

  “You act like you’ve been there,” Simone mumbled.

  He looked at her with a raised brow. “Yeah, I guess it does sound that way, huh?” He smiled as a blast of thunder tore through the sky. “Come on, Miss Simone. Your daddy wouldn’t want you sitting out here in no storm.” He pulled his aging limbs from Thomas’s resting place and extended his hand to her. “Remember, weeping may endure for a moment, but joy will surely come in the morning.”

  “How’d you know my name?” Simone asked, standing.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You called me Simone. How’d you know that was my name?”

  “Oh.” He chuckled, dismissing the question with a wave of his hand. He then pulled a folded trash bag from his pocket and passed it to her. “Put this bag over your seat. I’ll look after your father. I mean, his site of course.”

  Simone accepted the bag and said, “Thank you, Mister…”

  “Johnson.” He smiled. “Curtis Johnson.” Another blast of thunder tore though the sky. “I know. I know I’ve said too much,” he mumbled as the rain came down in buckets.

  With the bag in hand, Simone headed to her car, unhur­ried.

  He never told me how he knew my name, she said to herself. “Mr. Johnson!” she yelled, looking over her shoulder. But Mr. Johnson was gone.

  That night, Andre flooded Simone with apologies. While lying in bed, Simone listened as the bullshit explanations spilled from his mouth. She couldn’t comprehend his words as she lay there thinking about her life, her future. She was tired of him, tired of the lopsided union they referred to as a marriage. But how could she leave now? She needed the scraps of love Andre tossed to her now more than ever. There was no other love available.

  Andre positioned himself on top of Simone for yet another round of makeup sex—the only kind of sex present in their marriage. Simone didn’t protest. She simply lay there and allowed him to pound away until he was finished.

  A week later, Andre surprised Simone with a family trip to Orlando, Florida. “You need to get away for a while,” he convinced her.

  “When are we coming back?” she asked halfheartedly, tossing her things into the suitcase. “I have to get Jordan on Friday. Angela and Ricardo are going away.”

  “You need a getaway more than your mother. She didn’t just lose her father,” Andre said, while tossing his bag of toiletries into the suitcase. “Man, had I been thinking, I would’ve included Jordan, too. It was so last-minute. I wanted us to stay for a week, but we can stay a few days and fly back Friday morning. I’ll have the tickets changed.”

  “That’s fine.” Simone sighed as she closed the suitcase.

  “Just call Angela and let her know. The last thing I need is to hear her mouth.”

  ● ● ●

  Simone tried to fight the grief hovering over her like a cloud as they bounced from park to park. Kayla was in awe at the sight of Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and all the other characters. Simone tried to share in her daughter’s excitement, but in the midst of all the fairytale princesses were elderly men holding the hands of their grandchildren while they stood in line for ice cream and autographs. The images were daggers to Simone’s heart. Her girls would never have such a luxury.

  In the midst of all the grandfathers, Simone spotted men and women wobbling around with their impairments. Their stiff limbs or the limps in their walks told Simone they, too, had possibly suffered from a stroke. Unlike Thomas, they’d made it through.

  “I gotta go back to the hotel,” Simone said as she let Kayla’s hand go. “It’s one of those days.”

  “Just fight it,” Andre replied. “Don’t let it get the best of you.”

  “I’ve been fighting it all day. I can’t take it. Y’all stay here and have fun.”

  “Simone, just fight it. Cry if you have to.”

  “I don’t wanna walk around the park crying, Andre.” She stood, fanning her face in hopes of drying the tears before they fell. “Y’all go ’head.”

  Sucking his teeth, Andre mumbled, “That’s what I get for trying.”

  Back at the hotel, Simone lay across one of the freshly-made double beds. I should call and check on Mae, she thought as she grabbed her cell from the nightstand. Simone had two messages.

  “Simone, where are you at?” Angela huffed in the first voice mail. “We want to leave today. Give me a call back.”

  Andre never called you. Simone sighed as she dialed Angela’s number, knowing she had probably left the second message, too.

  “Hey,” Simone said plainly. “Andre didn’t call you?”

  “Call me for what? Did you get my message?”

  “Yeah, I got your message, but we’re in Orlando. We fly back tomorrow—”

  “Orlando?” Angela cut her off. “Simone, I told you that I needed you to keep Jordan so Ricardo and I—”

  “AND!” Simone yelled over her mother. “I just told you we fly back in the morning. Andre was supposed to call you.”

  “Thanks a lot, Simone,” Angela said, slamming the phone down.

  “You’re welcome,” Simone said as she tossed the phone on her bed. She had a surprise for Angela. It was time—past time.

  ● ● ●

  Back in town, Simone pulled into Stan’s driveway and tooted her horn. Months before Thomas had passed, she had not only helped her brother buy a house, but she’d signed over her commission check to cover his down payment.

  “He wouldn’t have done it for you,” Thomas had told her. “That boy just like your momma. I’m glad you got my heart.”

  Simone tooted her horn again. She knew Jordan was there. Stan was Angela’s only other option. Finally, Stan opened his front door in a wife-beater, jeans, and slippers. He looked at Simone and shook his head questioningly.

  “What?” Simone yelled from her window. “I know you not getting ready to say she can’t come.”

  “I’m not gon’ tell you nothing,” Stan said as Jordan brushed past him with her bag, smiling like always. “If Ma gets upset, that’s on you.”

  “Yeah, whatever. She ain’t seen upset yet.”

  Simone wasn’t sharing Jordan anymore, and she was more than ready for Angela’s wrath.

  “Hey Simone,” Jordan greeted, jumping in the car. “Y’all went to Disney World?”

  Simone backed out of the driveway as Jordan fastened her safety belt.

  “Yeah, Andre planned the trip. He figured I needed a get-away. If I had known, I would have taken you, too.”

  “Ugh…I don’t wanna see Mickey Mouse and Cinderella.”

  “It’s other stuff to do. We could’ve hung out in downtown Disney. They have a superstar studio where you sing
and make CD’s.”

  “Oh, now that’s different. I was just telling Ma I wanna take vocal lessons. She ignored me, though.”

  “That’s so funny, Jordan,” Simone smiled. “I’ve always wanted to take lessons, too.”

  “For real?”

  “Yeah, I’m serious. Matter of fact, that’s something we can do together. I’ma find us a vocal coach.”

  “For real, Simone!”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  “Yes!” Jordan beamed. “So now where we going?”

  “Well, I’m taking you shopping.” Jordan’s face beamed even brighter. “But there’s something we need to discuss first.”

  “Okay, what is it?”

  “How would you feel if I told you that I’m not taking you back to Angela’s? I’m keeping you with me.”

  “But I kinda already live with you.”

  “I know, but I’m talking about all your stuff being at my house and I’m taking you to school every day, not here and there.”

  “Mmm,” Jordan moaned as her excitement seemed to dwindle. “Would I have to change schools?”

  “No. I could still drop you off the way I do now. After school, you can go to Angela’s and I’ll pick you up from there.”

  Jordan smiled. “And I’ll still get to see Ma’ because I’m going there after school,” she said more so to herself.

  “Yep. So…you’re cool with the idea?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine, but…”

  “But what?”

  “You and Andre argue a lot.”

  “I know. We’ll work on that. But right now, my focus is you, Kayla, and real estate. Now let’s go shopping.”

  A week later when Jordan was due to return to Angela’s, Simone called her mother, ready for battle. She wasn’t the naïve little girl who’d trusted her mother and clung to her every word. She was a successful businesswoman with savvy connections a phone call away. If Angela wanted a legal battle, Simone was ready, willing, and able to serve her one on a silver platter.

  “Jordan’s not coming back.”

  “Umm,” Angela groaned into the phone, unfazed. To Simone’s surprise, her mother didn’t challenge her decision. “She shoulda been with you. I’m getting old, and I could mess around and have a stroke just like your daddy. Besides,” she added, “the hard work is already done.”

  Part Three

  “If it comes back to you, it was meant to be”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  2004

  Fifteen-year-old Jordan climbed on the barstool and slumped over the countertop, still dressed in her flannel pajamas late in the afternoon.

  “What’s for dinner?” she mumbled, tapping her fingers along the granite counter.

  “Lasagna. Something quick and easy.”

  Jordan didn’t respond, and Simone knew from her bleak demeanor that dinner was the farthest thing from her mind.

  Simone turned off the pot of boiling pasta, crossed her arms, and gave Jordan her undivided attention. “So, you wanna tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to guess?”

  “You promise you won’t get mad?”

  Simone looked at Jordan cockeyed, wondering what could possibly be so serious.

  “It’s about my father…my real father,” she said, sitting up. “Why’d y’all break up?”

  “Why’d we break up?” Simone repeated more so to herself.

  “Was it because he went to jail?”

  “No,” Simone said as she dumped the pasta in the colander to drain. “We broke up because he cheated.”

  “He cheated? While you were pregnant with me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How’d you find out?”

  “I called his house and the tramp answered the phone,” she said playfully. “I’m just kidding, but some chick did answer the phone, claiming to be his girlfriend. We exchanged pleasantries, and blah, blah, blah,” Simone said, dismissing the ordeal with a wave of her hand.

  “Simone! Don’t blah, blah the good stuff. Did y’all fight?”

  “No, I went over there, but we didn’t fight. The bad part is after it was all said and done, I never heard from your father again. Well, let me take that back. Your granddaddy was complaining about somebody calling from prison. So,” Simone added with a shrug of her shoulders, “I guess he may have tried to call once or twice.”

  “How come he didn’t want me with you?” Jordan asked.

  “What?” Simone frowned, taken aback by the question. “Where’d you hear that nonsense?”

  “Remember when Granddaddy told me you were my mother?”

  “Yes,” Simone said, wiping her hands on a terrycloth dishtowel.

  “Well, when I went home, Ma showed me a piece of paper that my father signed.”

  “What kind of paper?”

  “Um, I don’t know. I guess custody papers. It was signed by Kevin Kennard.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Simone said. “I don’t know what Angela showed you, Jordan, but it’s probably some mess she forged. Your father wouldn’t have signed anything. He didn’t have a reason to.”

  “I just wish I could meet him. I’m the only girl in the world who’s been fooled all her life. I don’t even know what he looks like.”

  “Jordan,” Simone sighed, knowing her point was valid, “I don’t have a problem with you meeting him. I just don’t know how to get in contact with him or his mother. Your father could be out of prison, married, and living with the elves in the North Pole, for all I know.”

  “Well…can you help me find him?”

  “And where do we start looking?”

  Sucking her teeth, Jordan slid from the barstool in defeat and headed upstairs to her room, leaving Simone to ponder the idea. In the still darkness of her room, Jordan lay stretched across her bed with the earphones of her iPod stuffed in her ears. All evening she sulked in her room. She didn’t even bother to eat dinner. Before turning in for the night, Simone opened Jordan’s door and flicked on her light.

  “Simone!” Jordan whined, throwing her pillow over her face to block the bright light.

  “Oh, well. I guess you don’t wanna know that I’ve decided to help you find your father,” Simone said, switching off the light and closing the door.

  Jordan sprang up in bed, yelling, “No, Simone! Come back!”

  Simone chuckled. “I thought you would get up then,” she said through the crack in the door. “Now listen. Don’t go getting your hopes all up, because I don’t even know if this is going to work.”

  “What?” Jordan asked.

  “I’ll send a note or something to their old address, and we’ll just have to see what happens. I doubt if they still live there.”

  “Can we just go check?”

  “Don’t push your luck. I think you should be happy with the note. Now goodnight.”

  ● ● ●

  “Simone! Simone! Simone!” Jordan screamed like a maniac through the phone. “I talked to her! I talked to her!”

  “My goodness, calm down,” Simone said, adjusting the volume of her cell. “You talked to who?”

  “My grandmother! She just called me. Can I go over there tonight, please?”

  “What! Jordan, she called you already? I just mailed the note a few days ago.”

  “Yeah, she got it today. She was crying on the phone and everything. Can I go over there, please, Simone? Can I go?”

  “She was crying?”

  “Yeah. I was on the phone talking to my friend Alexis, and the line beeped. I started not to answer it, but I clicked over, and she said, ‘Is this Jordan?’ and I said ‘Yeah, who’s this?’ And she was like, ‘Oh my God,’ and I could hear her crying.”

  Simone couldn’t help but chuckle as Jordan ranted on and on.

  “Then she was like, ‘I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this. Baby, it’s your grandmother.’ She was crying and everything, Simone. Oh my goodness, she wants me to come over there tonight. Please, can I go? Please! It’s Friday, and s
he said my father calls her every Friday evening.”

  Simone couldn’t believe how fast everything was happening. She had known with all certainty that the card would be returned to her stamped ‘Addressee Unknown.’ However, Ms. Kennard was still there after all these years.

  “Simone, can I, please? I wanna talk to him.”

  “I just can’t believe she lives in the same place,” Simone said, more to herself.

  “Please, Simone? Can I go?”

  “I need to talk to your grandmother first,” she said. “I’ll be home in an hour or so, and I’ll call her then.”

  “Oh my gosh. Thank you, Simone, for mailing the card. I love you. I’m going to pack my stuff!”

  ● ● ●

  The overwhelming smell of cleaning products stung Simone’s nose the minute she walked into the house. Jordan knew Simone dreaded coming home to filth and disorder.

  “Hey, Simone,” Jordan hollered from the kitchen as she loaded the dishes into the dishwasher. Simone couldn’t tell what sparkled the most, her daughter’s smile or the kitchen.

  “The house looks good, Jordan, but you need to open the windows. Smells like you used a gallon of bleach.”

  “You want the phone so you can call my grandma now?”

  “Sure, Jordan,” Simone said, knowing there would be no peace until she finished what she’d started. Jordan wanted to meet her father. “Dial the number,” Simone told her while opening a few windows herself.

  Jordan grabbed the cordless and dialed the number she’d already committed to memory. “Hey, Grandma!” She giggled into the receiver. “Simone’s here now. You wanna talk to her? Okay, here she go.”

  “Hey, Ms. Kennard!” Simone greeted, plopping down at the kitchen table. “How you doing?”

  “Simone, Simone, Simone. I’m going to say this, and I’m going to say it without crying, ’cause Lord knows I’ve been crying all day.” She paused as if she were trying to get herself together. “Kevin’s supposed to call here tonight. I know he’s gonna have a heart attack when I tell him.” Simone heard her sniff and realized the tears had won. “Simone, thank you from the bottom of my heart and from the bottom of Kevin’s heart. That boy has been though a helluva lot, and all he talks about is finding his baby once he gets out.”