Finding Mrs. Wright

Home > Nonfiction > Finding Mrs. Wright > Page 12
Finding Mrs. Wright Page 12

by Sherri L. Lewis


  “Devon?” Mom’s voice took over the conversation. “You tell Cassandra we said thank you so much for coming to see Brianna. It was just what she needed to get back to her old self. She’s been singing and dancing around the room since she woke up. Cassandra’s a real nice girl. I hope that you—”

  “I’ll tell her thanks, Ma. I’ll be there in a little bit, okay?”

  “No need to rush, honey. Please take your time. Take as long as you want.”

  “Soon, Ma. I’ll be there soon.” I signaled for the waitress to come and asked for a to-go box and the bill.

  “Everything okay?” Cassandra pushed her plate away and wiped her mouth with her napkin.

  “Everything’s fine. Brianna has apparently spent the evening singing and dancing.”

  Cassandra smiled.

  “Cassandra, I want to say thanks again for everything you’ve done for her. Mom was going on and on about how much better she is. Mom said to tell you thanks.”

  “No need to thank me. I loved being able to make her happy. She’s really special, Devon.”

  “I know.” I pulled out my credit card and gave it to the waitress, hoping she’d come back quick. “I gotta get back to the hospital and spend some time with her before she goes to sleep for the night.”

  Cassandra nodded. Maybe I was reading her the wrong way, but it seemed like her whole vibe had changed since I told her the Shauntae story. At first I wished I hadn’t told her. But for real, it was the truth. My unfortunate truth. And if she couldn’t live with it, well, it was best to find that out as early as possible.

  “You weren’t hungry?” she asked as I slid my food into the carry-out box.

  “I’ll eat when I get back to the hospital.”

  We didn’t say much else until I walked her to her car. She was about to get in and then stopped.

  “What’s up?” I wasn’t in the mood for any more conversation.

  “Thanks for sharing with me what happened with Natalie. I know that wasn’t easy. And even with what happened with Shauntae.” She paused for a second, then smirked. “I mean, Quartisha.”

  I didn’t laugh. “You asked, so I told you.”

  She stood there jingling her keys for a second and then said, “You asked me why I got you the Bible.”

  I shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to answer that.”

  She put a hand on my arm. “I want to.” She stared at her feet for a second, then looked back up at me. “I really like you, Devon. A lot.”

  A funny feeling rose up in my chest. “Okay.”

  “And”—Cassandra bit her lip—“it doesn’t make any sense, because I’m breaking all my rules I set to keep from getting my heart broke again. I guess there’s just something about you.” She placed her hand gently on my chest. “There’s something about your heart that makes me feel like . . . I don’t know.”

  “Okay.”

  “So . . . I guess we both have some decisions to make.”

  “Okay.” I couldn’t seem to figure out much else to say.

  “I have to decide whether to trust my heart or my mind. Whether to trust my heart and risk heartache number nine on you or trust my head and go running as fast as I can in the opposite direction.”

  I dropped my head.

  “And you . . .” She put a finger under my chin and lifted my head slightly. “You have to decide whether you’re willing to take a chance on being in a serious relationship again. Or whether you want to spend the rest of your life just hanging out.”

  I didn’t say anything. Just nodded.

  “Kiss Brianna for me, okay?”

  I nodded again.

  She got into her car and rolled down the window. “Bye, Devon.”

  “Good night, Cassandra. Thanks again for everything.”

  I stood there and watched her drive off. I tucked my new leather Bible under my arm and got into my car. I had read her wrong. I guessed my thoughts about being a bad person because of what happened with Shauntae made me feel like Cassandra would judge me, but she didn’t.

  Seemed like every time I thought there was no chance with her, she kept swinging the door wide open. Now I had to decide whether I wanted to walk through it.

  Thirteen

  On Wednesday afternoon, I was able to take Brianna home. I didn’t know who was more relieved to leave the hospital, me or her. When Brianna walked through the front door of our house, she ran straight back to her room and threw the door open like she had expected something to change while she was gone. I laughed as she hugged all her stuffed animals and dolls and talked to them, telling them how much she had missed them and asking each one if they had missed her.

  After witnessing her happy reunion, I went back to my room and plopped down on my bed. I only got to lie down for a few minutes before I realized I needed to get up to find Brianna something to eat. She had eaten breakfast and gotten insulin when we first woke up and it took them awhile to discharge us from the hospital. She was due for food in about thirty minutes.

  Thankfully, Mom had gone grocery shopping and had made meals for her for the next few days. She also bought a few diabetic cookbooks and subscribed to some magazines specifically for diabetics. She was determined that she would learn everything she needed to know to make Brianna’s life as normal as possible. Every day, she had been spouting out facts she had learned about things that would keep Brianna happy and healthy.

  Dad went to the pharmacy for me and got all the diabetic supplies we needed. I was grateful for my parents being there for me and didn’t know how I could have done any of it without them.

  I decided to keep Brianna home from school for the rest of the week as we got our routine for maintaining her diabetes adjusted. I was glad Cassandra had taught her that singing thing because it killed me every time I had to stick her with a needle. The diabetes educator said that we would eventually teach her to stick herself but I didn’t see that happening anytime soon since her coping mechanism involved closing her eyes.

  Me and Brianna did okay the next couple of days. Shauntae insisted that Brianna had to come to her apartment at her regularly scheduled time on Friday. I made lists of the things she was supposed to eat and my mom had prepared food to send to Shauntae’s in Tupperware containers to make sure she ate right.

  I didn’t even bother to think that Shauntae would be responsible enough to go to the pharmacy to get the diabetic stuff Brianna needed. Pop wanted to draw up all the insulin injections and send them already premeasured in the syringes. I thought that was a great idea but Mom said unless we planned to continue doing everything for Shauntae, we didn’t need to set up that expectation in her. Plus, since she insisted she could take of Brianna, Shauntae needed to prove it.

  I had to admit I was real concerned about taking Brianna over there. When I walked into her apartment late Friday afternoon with the big bag of food and sheets of instructions, I asked Shauntae if we could sit down and discuss everything to make sure she knew what she was doing.

  “There you go treating me like I’m stupid again. I took the class, didn’t I? It cain’t be that hard.”

  “It is that hard, Shauntae. And messing up could make Brianna very sick. It could even kill her.”

  “Why you got to assume I’m gonna mess up? Why you always got to act like I can’t do nothing right?”

  I refused to answer that question. I didn’t feel like arguing with Shauntae about the fact that she never did anything right and that she was always messing up. It wouldn’t get me anywhere. I wondered if she’d let Brianna get sick just to spite me. It wasn’t a chance I was willing to take, so I decided to play nice.

  I went over to her small, rickety dining table and sat down. “Shauntae, I’m not assuming you’ll mess up. This thing is hard. I’ve been reading books all week trying to get a better understanding of it. I’ve had to pull out the calculator all day just to figure out her insulin shots. Counting carbohydrates is no joke, so Mom cooked food for her. It’s not that I think y
ou can’t get anything right. It’s that this is a hard disease to manage and it’s serious. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She softened a little. She looked into the food bag and fumbled with the Tupperware containers. “Tell your mama I said thanks for cooking.” She sat down at the table next to me and leafed through the sheets where I had written out tons of instructions. I had tried to keep things as simple as possible but it still ended up being four sheets of paper covered with everything I could think of that I needed to tell Shauntae to keep Brianna safe. She scrunched up her face while trying to read the papers. “You’re right. This is hard.”

  I wished we had gone with Pop’s suggestion to pre-measure the insulin. “You have my cell number. Please, it’s okay to call me at any time with any questions. I don’t care how late or early it is or how small the question. Promise you’ll call me, okay?”

  Shauntae nodded. “I promise.”

  I beckoned for Brianna to come over from her little play area in the corner of the living room and slipped an arm around her. “And you can call Daddy at any time too, okay?” I patted her book bag that had the cell phone Mom and Dad had bought her for emergencies. Under ordinary circumstances, a six-year-old having a cell phone would be ridiculous. But me and my parents agreed that Brianna needed to be able to get in touch with us at anytime at school, church, and especially at Shauntae’s house if something went wrong. We had programmed all our numbers in the phone so Brianna could get in touch with us with the press of a button.

  I gave her a big hug, praying the whole time for God to watch over her while she was at her mother’s house. Shauntae had insisted that she keep Brianna the whole weekend. Guessed she was feeling insecure about her child support check. Brianna had gotten real upset when I told her she wouldn’t get to see Miss Cassandra on Saturday or Sunday.

  As I was leaving, Shauntae stopped me at the door. “She’s gonna be fine, Devon. I know you don’t trust me but I’m gonna show you that I can do it. I can be a good mother.”

  “I know you can, Shauntae.” I put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. I was lying through my teeth, but I hated that me and my family made her feel bad about herself. “I know she’ll be fine. You guys have a good time together, okay? I put some movies in her bag that you guys . . . you know, might want to watch together.”

  “Thanks. I went and bought some kiddie movies this week too. I wanted to make sure she had a good time over here. You know, since she’s sick and all.”

  Maybe this whole diabetes thing was just what Shauntae needed to try harder to be a good mother to Brianna. As much as I hated the disease, a better relationship between the two of them would make it more bearable.

  As I walked out the door and onto the porch, Shauntae said, “Oh, and I was thinking. If you give me the directions, I can take her to her art class tomorrow morning. I know it’s real important to her.”

  My face broke into a big smile. “It is. That would be great, Shauntae. Thanks. She’ll be really happy when you tell her. Check your e-mail later—I’ll send you the directions and all the information.” I started down the steps again but turned back to say one last time, “Thanks for that. I really appreciate all you’re doing to make her happy.”

  Seemed strange to thank her for doing what a mother was supposed to do but in her case, I felt like it was necessary. It felt like we were somewhat getting along for the first time in the six-plus years we had been involved. Too bad it took diabetes, but thank God that something was making her change.

  I got into my car to head back down Candler Road. I didn’t live in the nicest suburb in Decatur, but it was a quiet, peaceful family area—much better than Shauntae’s neighborhood. Thankfully, we lived close enough to each other that I didn’t have to deal with Atlanta’s horrendous traffic during rush hour on a Friday afternoon.

  With Brianna gone, I almost didn’t know what to do with myself. I wasn’t really tired since I hadn’t been at work all week. I actually needed to get into something. Go out and have some fun doing something grown-up. I picked up the phone to call Chuckie.

  “Wassup, dawg?” He sounded happy to hear from me.

  “Nothing, man. Just dropped Brianna off at her mother’s and wanted to see if you wanted to get into something tonight. Play some pool or something.”

  “Aw, man, you know I plan on being with Tisha tonight.”

  “I figured as much but thought I’d ask.”

  “You know, we’re going to Cassandra’s. She invited some folks over from the church. You should come. It’ll be cool.”

  “I can’t show up without an invitation.”

  “Are you kidding? She’d be real happy if you came . . . I mean . . . you know, it would be cool with her.”

  I could hear something in Chuckie’s voice. “How you know she’d be happy if I came? What you know, Chuckie?”

  “Man, I don’t know nothing. And you ain’t gonna get me in trouble asking me no women’s secrets. All I’m saying is, you ain’t got to worry about needing an invitation to come to Cassandra’s house. Just call her and tell her you talked to me. For real. Call her, man.”

  I wondered what Cassandra had told Tisha about me and likewise what Tisha had told Chuckie. It would be nice to see her again, but calling her would be like telling her I was ready to be that dude. With everything going on with Brianna, I hadn’t had time to think about all of that. Brianna and her diabetes had taken all my time and attention.

  I stared at the phone for a second, wondering if Cassandra could just take it as a casual thing for me to call and invite myself over for dinner. As many times as she had explained her stance, I didn’t think she would. She might think I was stepping to her, ready to make a commitment or something.

  I started to shove the phone back in its case, but it rang. I glanced from watching the road to see Cassandra’s name pop up on the caller ID.

  “Hey.” I tried not to sound too happy to hear from her.

  “Wassup, playa? I heard you was coming to dinner tonight.”

  “What? Where did you—”

  “Just got off the phone with Chuckie. You coming with him or you need directions?”

  “Cassandra, I—”

  “It’s just dinner, playa. Don’t be so serious about everything.”

  I had to laugh.

  “Brianna’s okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, she’s fine. For now. I dropped her off at her mother’s. Shauntae was acting all different. Like she cared. I think Brianna is gonna be okay with her. And she said Brianna could come to art class tomorrow.”

  “Really? That’s great. I’ll be happy to see her in the morning. So, I’ll see you in a couple of hours?” She actually sounded a little anxious to see me.

  “Yeah. I’ll get Chuckie to swing by and get me. Can I bring anything?”

  “Just you, playa. Just you.”

  I smiled as I hung up the phone. Dang, this girl . . .

  “So what did Cassandra tell Tisha about me?” I was barely in Chuckie’s car good before I asked. Tisha had gone to Cassandra’s early to help her cook and get stuff ready so I had him all to myself to try to get some information out of him.

  “Naw, man. I ain’t saying nothing.”

  “So you gonna put your girl over me? We been friends since way back and now this girl comes in the picture and you keeping secrets. I see how you are, Chuckie. That’s foul.”

  “Whatever, man.”

  “Girls come and go, but we brothas for life. When things go left with Tisha, who you think is gon’ still be there for you?”

  Chuckie turned to me with a serious look on his face. “Things ain’t going left with me and Tisha. I ain’t stupid enough to let that happen. And if you had any sense, you’d get a clue and see if Cassandra would take your old bucket head. Man, it ain’t every day you meet real good women like them. I mighta been a fool in the past but I know a good woman when I see one.”

  “What you sayin’, man? You sound serious.”

  “I am serious. I
’ma marry Tisha.”

  My jaw dropped open.

  Chuckie looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “What?”

  “Chuckie said the ‘M’ word.” I grabbed the dashboard and held on tight.

  “Whatever, man, you keep being stupid if you want to. I’m ’bout to get married, have me two or three kids, and that’s gon’ be that. You can be a single dad forever if you want.”

  We sat there in silence for a few minutes. Chuckie was talking about marriage. I honestly never thought I’d see the day. I thought he’d be an old player like his dad and uncles. “Wow, that Tisha is some kind of woman.”

  “So is Cassandra.” Chuckie sounded upset. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, man. She’s beautiful, has her own business, is a good church woman, and loves children. And she especially loves your child. Came to the hospital and brought all that stuff. Do you know she cried when Brianna got sick? That girl loves your daughter and she really likes you, but you just wanna . . . I don’t even know what you wanna do. What is your problem?”

  “She cried? About Brianna?”

  Chuckie gave me a sour look and shook his head like he was tired of my particular brand of stupidity. “That’s all right. Keep dragging your feet. There’s another dude been pushing up on her every time he get a chance. Tisha say she don’t like him. But let that dude keep hanging around long enough and you still ain’t talking about nothing. He’s a real church dude, too. Teaches Bible Study and all that kind of stuff. Keep acting simple and see what happens.”

  Chuckie kept shaking his head and mumbling under his breath. I couldn’t make out everything he said but I caught snatches of “acting a fool,” “grown man playing games,” “you thirty-five, not twenty-five,” and all sorts of stuff.

  “Chuckie, a’ight, man. Give me a break from all that.”

  “I’m for real. You need to make a decision. If you ain’t gon’ step to her then stop hanging around acting like you might. She deserves better than that.” He turned into the driveway of a small, but nice-looking house.

  “I know, man. She deserves a lot better than that.”

 

‹ Prev