Long Time Coming

by Vanessa Miller

  Kenisha started laughing. She couldn't help it. Aisha cracked her up. Aisha had big dreams for a project chick who couldn't even manage to get out of bed before noon.

  "Laugh all you want, Kenisha. When I'm a big star, we'll see how much you laugh then."

  Kenisha waved her hand in the air, dismissing her sister."Do whatever you want, Aisha. I've got my own problems. I don't have time to worry about you."

  "Why were you at the hospital, anyway?"

  "Turn right here, she lives on this street."

  "Don't ignore me," Aisha said as she turned the corner."Why were you at the hospital?"

  "Slow down, look for 6280. And it's none of your business."

  "Oh, so I can play taxi, but I don't get to know nothing."

  Kenisha pointed at a red-brick house."Pull over, Aisha. This is it."

  Aisha leaned her head against the windowsill."Wow. Jamal sure knows who to go home with. Leave it to him to pick some rich white lady."

  "Jamal's principal isn't white. She's a sistah." She got out of the car and walked across hunter-green grass, smelling the fragrance of the fresh pine mulch that surrounded the trees. Knocking on the door, Kenisha put a smile on her face and tried to forget that all she wanted to do was to find a bed and lie down.

  "So what did you think of the movie?" Deidre asked Jamal as Clarence got his wings.

  He got up and took the disc out of the DVD player. As he returned to his seat, he told her, "My mom acted like that guy for a while."

  "Which guy?"

  "The one who thought everybody would have been better off if he'd never been born."

  Cautiously, Deidre asked."Why does your mom think that?"

  "She doesn't now. But after my aunt died, I would hear her crying and saying stuff about it all being her fault." He looked down at his hands. Realized he was still holding the disc and set it on the coffee table."I watch these old movies a lot with my mom." He pointed at the slices of pizza on the table."My mom likes pepperoni and ham pizza too."

  Deidre recognized the change in subject and let it happen.

  "You know what?" Jamal asked."You remind me of my mom."

  "Like how?"

  "Well, you're nice, and you like kids."

  Deidre smiled at Jamal."How do you know I like kids?"

  "Ah, come on, Mrs. Morris. All the kids at school know that you're fair. You don't just ignore us because we're kids. You listen."

  Hearing that from Jamal made Deidre feel much better about the strides she'd made at Jane Adams. Lately, with how her boss had been treating her, she'd started feeling like a failure. Like maybe somebody else could take over as principal and do a much better job."Thanks, Jamal. I appreciate your saying that."

  "It's true. All the kids talk about how cool you are." Jamal's eyes turned sad as he shook his head."It's too bad you weren't pregnant today. You'd make a great mom."

  The smile left Deidre's lips as sadness invaded her eyes. She stood and began clearing the food off the coffee table. Lord, please make the pain go away. But the pain would not move. Tears trickled down her face as she walked into the kitchen.

  Jamal followed her and sat on the stool behind the counter."I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad again."

  She grabbed a napkin off the counter and wiped the tears from her face, then blew her nose."I'm all right, don't worry abou—"

  The doorbell rang.

  Jamal jumped."That's my mom."

  Throwing the napkin in the wastebasket, Deidre told Jamal, "Well, let's go let her in."

  Kenisha had few dreams. But the one that stuck with her was about moving her children into a nice home in a nice neighborhood where they could go outside and play without ducking gunfire. Every Sunday when Mr. Hadley, her elderly next-door neighbor was finished reading his newspaper, he would knock on her door and give her the Home section. Kenisha pored over the pages, taking in the square footage and the acreage of the homes. Once, she even took the bus to a home tour event. She walked through three- and fourhundred-thousand dollar homes, asking questions about the structure and feeling the etching in the columns as if she could be an interested buyer. She knew what a quality home looked like. That's why her mouth hung open and she couldn't even say hello when Mrs. Morris opened the door and she stepped into the foyer.

  "It's nice, isn't it, mama? Like those houses you look at on Sunday."

  "You ain't lied about that, Jamal." Stepping past Deidre, Kenisha looked at the spacious open-floor plan. The winding staircase."This house is off the chain."

  Deidre cleared her throat.

  Kenisha turned toward her."Oh, hey. Gurl, I was 'bout to take a tour of this mug. Thought I was in one of them show homes for a minute. How you doing?"

  "I'm fine," Deidre told her, then added, "Thanks for picking Jamal up."

  Kenisha caught the college-girl attitude Miss Thang was throwing at her. She was about to go there with her, but after the day she'd had, she just didn't have the energy. So she simply told her, "You don't have to thank me. That's my job."

  Deidre turned to Jamal."Go get your things." She turned back to Kenisha once Jamal was out of sight."It looks like you forgot your job today."

  "Look, lady. I don't know what your problem is, but my son has never been left at your school before. I pick him up on time every day."

  "Not today."

  "Once, okay. One time out of a year."

  "Once is too many."

  Kenisha gave Deidre the hand."Whatever."

  "How can you be so nonchalant?" Deidre kept her voice to a whisper as she told Kenisha off."Jamal is your son. He should be precious, and far more important than any errand you had to run."

  Kenisha continued to roll her eyes with the five-finger disconnect still in Deidre's face.

  "If you think I'm going to let you ruin Jamal's life, you can think again. I'm calling Children's Services first thing in the morning. We'll see how smug you are then."

  Kenisha's hand came down."Look, lady, you've got it all wrong."

  Tears flowed from Deidre's face as she pointed into the family room where Jamal was gathering his stuff." I'm not going to let you hurt him. A mother should love and care for her child. Not put him in harm's way."

  Kenisha pointed in the direction Jamal took off in."That's my heart. Jamal knows he's my heart. I'd never do anything to hurt him."

  Deidre wiped at the tears."Tell it to Children's Services."

  "W-w-wait." No social worker was going to call her unfit. Before Kenisha could stop herself, she blurted out, "I have cancer, okay? I was at the hospital getting a radiation treatment."

  "What a terrible thing to say."

  "It's more like a terrible thing to have. But it's true. You can call my doctor if you want." She dug in her purse and produced a small white business card."Here. Call Dr. Lawson if you don't believe me."

  Jamal walked back in the room looking from his mom to Mrs. Morris. His mom had this angry look on her face, and Mrs. Morris was standing there with her mouth hanging open."Is something wrong?"

  "No, baby. Let's just go. I need to get out of here," Kenisha told him as she grabbed his hand and swung open the front door.

  "Wait," Deidre yelled.

  Kenisha turned around to face her accuser."What else do you have to say, lady?"

  "Look, I'm sorry that I accused you of neglecting Jamal. I've seen him around in school, and I've always thought he was well taken cared of."

  Kenisha scoffed."Then why'd you say that stuff about Children's Services?"

  Deidre put her hands to her head and massaged her temple."I've been going through some things lately. But I had no right to take my anger out on you."

  "Yeah, Mama," Jamal chimed in."Mrs. Morris thought she was pregnant, but it turned out she wasn't."

  "How do you know?" Kenisha turned to her son.

  "Ask her," Jamal said."She was crying and everything."

  Oh, Lord, Deidre thought. If Dr. Thomas found out that she had shared such personal information wi
th a child, he would write her up for sure. She looked from Jamal to Kenisha and then said, "I was in the bathroom crying. Jamal walked in trying to see if I was okay. I'm sorry about blurting such a thing out. But I was in a bit of distress when he walked in on me."

  Kenisha doubled over in laughter. When she pulled herself together, she said, "That's a first for me. The women I know get distressed when they find out they are pregnant."

  Trying to get off the subject, Deidre said, "Well, look, if you need to talk or need my assistance with anything, you've got my number now, so please give me a call." With that, Deidre walked them to the car without so much as an offered prayer for Kenisha's infirmities.

  4

  Kenisha made Hamburger Helper as soon as she got home. Fed her kids and then put Diamond and Kennedy to bed. Jamal was like her, a night owl. She let him stay up, but never past eleven. His company usually kept her from feeling so lonely. But tonight, when he looked at her with those sad brown eyes, she wished she'd put him to bed with the girls.

  "You got cancer?"

  Kenisha got up, went into the kitchen, and started running some dishwater.

  Jamal followed her."Do you have cancer?"

  She turned to face him."What you know about cancer?"

  A tear trickled down his young face."I know that my friend Joey's grandmother just died from it."

  Kenisha turned off the dishwater and sat down at the small kitchen table. She patted the seat next to her, and her son joined her."Now, Jamal, you know that Joey's grandmother was old, right?"

  "Right."

  "But I'm not old. I'm too young to die, right?"

  "Right."

  She put his small hand in hers and rubbed up from his hand to his elbow."So don't think like that, okay?"

  Jamal snatched his hand away and stood up."You've got it, don't you? I heard you tell Mrs. Morris that you had cancer."

  Jamal was wise beyond his years, always had been. Kenisha had never been able to hide anything from him. No sense trying now. She lowered her head, twisted her lips."Yeah, baby. I've got cancer."

  He cried. Kenisha held her son. His body jerked back and forth as his tears flowed. He held onto her so tight that Kenisha was afraid to let him go. She wanted to comfort him but didn't know what to say. Tears rushed to her eyes as she said, "Come on, Jamal. Stop all this crying. I'm going to need you to be strong for me. You've always been my little helper. And I'm really going to need you now."

  Slowly he released his hold, sat back in his chair, and dried his eyes.

  Kenisha wiped her own eyes and silently commanded her chin to stop quivering. She had to be strong for Jamal."Are you going to help me through this, Jamal?"

  "I can do it. I'll take care of you, Mama."

  She grabbed him and hugged him tight."That's my little man." It was hard, but she pulled away from the embrace, patted his hand."Everything's going to be okay. You'll see."

  Jamal gave her a weak smile.

  "Off to bed with you. I'm going to finish these dishes and go to bed myself. We can watch a movie tomorrow night. Okay?"

  Jamal got up. He didn't argue about going to bed before eleven. He kissed his mother on the cheek and walked away.

  Her chin started quivering again as she watched Jamal walk away. Jamal had brought so much joy into her life, but Kenisha still remembered the pain he'd caused her.

  Tears of regret sprang into Kenisha's eyes as the doctor shouted, "Push!"

  "No. I can't."

  "You acted like a grown woman when you spread your legs to make this baby. Act like one now and push him out."

  She barely knew this man in the white coat, crouched between her legs, demanding that she push her baby out of a hole that was too small for some grapefruit-size head to get through. She turned to James, pleading her case."He's too big. I can't get him out."

  James wiped away the tears that trickled down Kenisha's ashen face."You can do this, Ke-Ke. You're a woman now. Remember that."

  Smirking, the doctor mumbled, "I've never met a fifteen-year-old woman."

  Strength from way down deep grew in Kenisha as she shifted her swollen body to look Dr. Holton in the eye. He was disrespecting her. People got cut for messing with others like that where she came from.

  "I've been taking care of myself for more years than I can count," she told him, then stilled herself as an explosion ripped through her body. Pain so sharp and mind-blowing, it made her want to travel back to the beginning of time, snatch Eve up by her nappy roots, and smack the fruit juice out of her mouth.

  "You okay, Ke-Ke?"

  She wanted to smack James too. All his "baby, baby, pleases" had put her in this predicament. But her desire to wipe that smug, betyou-wish-you'd-listened-to-your-mama look off Dr. Holton's face directed her energy toward her belly. Panting as the pain subsided, she told them, "This baby is ready to meet his mama."

  "Then push," Dr. Holton said.

  Grinding down, Kenisha pushed, not once, but three times, before her sweat-drenched body collapsed on the bed.

  "I've got the head," Dr. Holton said, as he positioned himself to extract the shoulders."One more push, Kenisha.come on. You can do it."

  Her insides were exploding, or were they imploding? She really didn't care what the correct term was. She was ready to throw in the towel, scream "Uncle," call for a truce, or beg this big-headed baby for mercy. How on earth was she supposed to push again? She was dying. Couldn't they see that? Dr. Holton was right. The delivery room was no place for a fifteen-going-on-thirty-five-year-old girl. There, she'd admitted it. Now could somebody please get this baby out!

  If she died with her baby half in, half out, everyone would know she was a fraud—she couldn't really handle life.

  She thought about praying. But she hadn't done much of that since she was nine years old, sneaking out to Sunday school at the church down the street from the Arlington Courts project homes where she'd aged beyond her years. That's where she'd heard that Bible story about a woman who wanted a child more than anything. The woman promised God that if He gave her a child, she would give the baby back to Him. Another pain shot through her and she screamed, "He's Yours, God, just help me through this."

  The next few minutes passed like a blur. Her last push was faint, but she felt like Christmas had come when the pain of birth subsided. Then she heard the cry of her child and knew that God had been with her.

  James moved a few strands of wet hair from her face."You did it, Ke-Ke. Our son is here."

  Stretching out weary arms, she said, "Hand me my son."

  The nurse had just finished cleaning the baby. She looked to Dr. Holton. He nodded his approval.

  She couldn't sit up. So when the nurse put her baby in her hands, she brought him to her lips and kissed his forehead. She and James had already picked out a name for their son. As best she could, Kenisha lifted Jamal Anthony Moore and proclaimed, "He's a gift from God."

  How could this be happening to her? What was God thinking when he let her get cancer? Didn't he know she had three children to raise?

  Getting up, she walked back to the sink and started putting the glasses in the water. Once again, she had found herself in another situation that proved God didn't care about her or her children. She swished a drinking glass around in the water a few times. She pulled it out of the water, but instead of rinsing the bubbles from the glass she threw it against the kitchen door.

  "You're not fair," she screamed at God as the shattered glass cascaded down the wall."What am I supposed to do now?"

  The patter of six little feet could be heard as Kenisha's children ran toward the kitchen."Mommy, what's wrong?" asked Diamond, her second oldest.

  Kenisha had been staring at the shattered glass when her children ran into the kitchen. She turned around and looked at them. Jamal was eight and her rock. He was the man of the house. Diamond was five and was the typical middle child, always thinking the world was against her or that nobody cared about her. She'd given up thumb-sucking at the ag
e of three; however, when she was sad or mad, that thumb found its way to her mouth. Kennedy was only two. She was still in diapers and refused to be potty trained—only admitting to doing "the number two" after it was already in her diaper. Her babies were too young to live without a mother.

  Kenisha got down on one knee, she opened her arms wide."Come here," she called to her children. They ran into her arms, and Kenisha hugged them all."I'm sorry, kids. I didn't mean to wake you up."

  "What wong?" Kennedy asked in her two-year-old dialect.

  "Nothing's wrong, honey. Mommy's angry, but I shouldn't have been so loud. Now, you guys go back to bed, and I promise to be quiet."

  "Are you sure you're okay, Mom?" Jamal asked.

  Kenisha wiped away the tears that fell down her face. This was the second time tonight that he'd seen her crying."Yes, hon, I'm okay. Can you put your sisters back to bed for me?"

  Jamal grabbed his two sisters' arms."Come on, back to bed."

  Kenisha sat down on the floor and watched her children walk away as if this was the last time she would ever see them. She put her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the moans that wanted to escape. But she couldn't stop the tears that came back like a river that forever flowed. Her eyes blurred, but she kept watching Jamal shuffle her little girls down the hall. When she lost sight of them, she stood up and ran to the edge of the kitchen, and with her head popping out of the doorway, she watched them march upstairs.

  It's not fair, she thought as she crouched down to pick up the shards of glass off the floor. Her mother had been an alcoholic who never did anything for her children that wouldn't first benefit her, but she had already outlived one child and would probably outlive another. Kenisha really didn't understand how horrible mothers like Martha Carson were able to live long enough to ruin the lives of children, but a mother like herself, who only wanted the best for her children, would probably never see them graduate from high school, go to college, start their first job, get married, or have children of their own.

  Three out of five of her mother's children never finished high school. One was a crackhead, two were unwed mothers, and one was murdered by her drug-dealing boyfriend. Her youngest sister, Angelina, was the only one of them who was even trying to make something of herself. She was in her third year of college and didn't have time to babysit, let alone have any rug rats of her own running behind her. Sitting down on the couch in the living room, Kenisha wondered if Angelina would consider taking her kids if Kenisha didn't make it through this.