His Woman, His Wife, His Widow Read online

  K.J. made a goofy face and said, “I can’t believe I ever liked you that much. I can’t stand you now. Ugh!”

  We all got a pretty good laugh out of the story. We sat and went down memory lane with a few other stories from the past for about an hour. Then Mama got that look on her face again. Both K.J. and I started reassuring her that we would never completely leave her. We promised that we would call and visit a hundred times a week just so she would not start crying again.

  This time Mama’s reason for her solemn look took us totally by surprise. For the first time in a long time since he left, Mama began to talk about Daddy.

  “I got a call a little while ago from Grandma Westbrook.” Mama looked like she had something unpleasant she needed to say, but was afraid. I was reminded of how I used to behave when I had to tell my mother something I knew would cause me to get a beat down. But what could she tell us about Nana Westbrook or her son that would cause her that kind of distress?

  Finally Mama started talking again. “She told me they finally got word about your father. She said they found his body about two days ago down in Louisiana, near Baton Rouge. Kevin Sr. is dead.”

  K.J. and I looked at each other in stunned silence. I didn’t know what my brother felt, but I was ready to bolt from the room. I didn’t feel sad, but I was having a hard time accurately describing what I did feel. I just know I wanted to run.

  “How did he die?” K.J. asked.

  “Does it really matter?” I replied bitterly. “Besides, the peace of death is too good for him. He should have been made to live a long and miserable life, just like the one he thought we would have when his selfish behind walked out on us.”

  Mama looked surprised that I had such harsh words for her stupid husband. I was shocked that she would be surprised by my outburst. She couldn’t possibly expect me to be saddened by his death.

  “I think it’s time I told you two more about your father’s leaving. When Kevin walked away from this family all those years ago, he didn’t just up and go without a word like everyone suspects. I asked him to leave.”

  K.J. and I stared at each other for a moment. Then we stared at Mama silently pleading with our eyes for her to tell us more. She picked up our cue and explained.

  “You both know how your daddy couldn’t hold down a job for any length of time. I had always been the one who worked hard and supported us all. But there was something you didn’t know. I guess you’re old enough now to find out the whole truth.” Mama took a deep breath, then just blurted her next statement. “Kevin Sr. was a heroin addict. I found out about his drug use about a year before you were born, Nay-Nay, when we were still just seniors in high school. I begged him to get help, but he kept saying he could quit all by himself whenever he got ready. Well, I guess he never got ready because that’s what killed him. Your father died of a drug overdose.”

  Oh my goodness! I could hardly believe my ears. My daddy was a junkie; a miserable freaking dope fiend, just like in one of the Donald Goines novels I had read.

  The subject of our father had been off limits for so long now, I had never bothered to ask K.J. how he felt about him. We never talked about Daddy amongst ourselves. I had no idea how the news of his death affected him. Even now I was unwilling to find out how K.J. felt. I was comfortable assuming it really didn’t bother him. He was so young when Daddy left, he couldn’t possibly remember him.

  I was angry, however. I was mad at him for being dead. Death now gave him an excuse for deserting us. I wondered to myself if my thoughts somehow made me warped in some way.

  “I know your father isn’t a favorite on either of your lists, but I just feel like our look back would be incomplete if we didn’t include him in at least one of our memorable stories. I think it’s appropriate considering the circumstances. There is a particular happening that I’m sure neither of you remember that I would like to talk about.”

  Again, K.J. and I gave each other a pained look, but we silently agreed to let her have her say.

  “It was the Christmas after you were born, K.J. You were about eight months old. Nay, you were three. Your daddy had been working at a decent paying job for about four months. As a matter of fact, it was the same job he held until the day before he left, which was nine months later. Kevin came home and told me he was fired because he failed a random drug test. At that point I’d had enough. I told him it was time for him to go.

  “Anyhow, back to the story. Your daddy insisted on doing all the Christmas shopping for you two. He made me promise not to purchase a thing for either of you.” Mama looked pleased as she told the story. I felt good that she had at least one good memory of her horrible husband.

  “Kevin was so excited about buying the presents for you two that he decided to keep it all a secret from me as well. I don’t know where he hid everything. On Christmas morning, the living room overflowed with presents. I couldn’t believe all the stuff that man bought. There were things that were far too advanced for your age groups, including an expensive train set with an authentic smoke stack. If I’m not mistaken, I think that is the same train set that someone in this room continues to have sitting fully assembled and actively uses in my basement to this day.”

  K.J. stared bug-eyed for a long moment. “My father bought my train set? I didn’t realize it was so old. I always assumed you bought that for me, Mama.” You could see in his face that he gained some newfound respect for the runaway now known as our dead father.

  I didn’t think I could be swayed as easily. Mama apparently read my expression as she continued to talk about that Christmas.

  “Nay-Nay, your daddy bought you three or four different baby dolls, a Barbie corvette with a black Barbie doll, and a fourteen carat gold chain with a gold heart-shaped locket. It was far too big for such a young girl, so I held on to it until you were ten years old. It is the same gold necklace I gave you for Christmas that year.”

  I couldn’t believe it. I probably looked as Kevin did when he learned about his train. I sat there speechless. I still had the chain and locket in my jewelry box. I hardly ever wore it when I was younger because I cherished it so. I was afraid I would lose or break it. When I turned fourteen, I told Mama that I would put it away until I had a child of my own.

  Daddy’s death presented perfect timing. I looked at the necklace not two days before, deciding that I would put my daughter’s first picture in the locket.

  The three of us sat in the kitchen quiet as mice for quite a while; each absorbed in our own thoughts. Mama was the first to break the long silence.

  “No arrangements have been made for Kevin Sr.’s funeral as of yet. It may be a few days before they decide anything because your grandmother has to go to Louisiana to claim the body.”

  “Wouldn’t you be considered his next of kin since you two never divorced, Mama?” Kevin asked.

  “Your father and I are divorced K.J. I filed for divorce about a year after he left. I received a default judgment because he never showed up in court.”

  That just went to show how little we talked about Daddy. I didn’t know they were legally divorced either. I was definitely happy to hear about it though. I would have hated for Mama to have to deal with identifying the body and being responsible for his funeral arrangements. As far as I was concerned, they could put him in a plastic bag and dump him in the nearest body of water in Louisiana. Mama obviously had other thoughts.

  “As I was saying, so far they have not made any arrangements, but I expect both of you to attend the funeral with me. Nana Westbrook has already decided that she was bringing her son back here to bury him.”

  “Why, Mama? Why should we be expected to pay respects to a man who cared more about putting poison in his veins than he did about his own children? I don’t want to go. I would feel like such a hypocrite sitting there pretending to be sad he was dead when I’m not,” I said.

  “I don’t think you should pretend to feel anything that you don’t, Nay. I do, however, think you should go
to say good-bye. Use this opportunity to put real closure to Kevin Sr. being gone.” I opened my mouth to protest some more, but Mama cut me off before I could continue.

  “Nay-Nay, K.J., listen. I’m not in support of your father’s actions. I probably have more cause to be angry with him than anybody. But I’m not. Once I got saved and became born again, I learned to let go of all that hatred and anger. I learned that as the hater, I was only hurting myself. Kevin was going about his life doing what he wanted, and I was sitting here in this house raising two kids, hating the man who was responsible for me having these two kids. It just was not worth it. So I forgave Kevin, and I let go of the anger. God forgives us over and over and over again. He expects us to be forgiving also.”

  Okay, Mom was hitting below the belt with that. I knew that I lived and depended on God’s forgiveness, grace and mercy, especially with my current condition and living arrangements. But I was having a hard time forgiving my father.

  “Forgiveness isn’t something that’s going to happen overnight. It didn’t happen that way for me,” Mama said as if she read my mind. “I just want you two to go with me and say good-bye. Your healing could begin right there.”

  I really wanted to tell Mama that her little guilt trip was not going to work, that I was still not going to the funeral. But I couldn’t because it really did work. It worked on both Kevin and me. We just shrugged our shoulders as our way of letting her know she’d won and we were going.

  Five days later, I sat in a chair in Nana Westbrook’s living room watching all these people I didn’t know or remember walk past me, their plates piled high with food.

  At the funeral, Nana insisted that me, Mama and K.J. sit on the front pew. Personally, I would have much rather stayed in the car. During the viewing of the body, these same strange people kept stopping by talking to us, telling K.J. and I how much we had grown since the last time they saw us. Duh! What did these clowns expect? It had been sixteen years. What irked me the most was when they constantly said how much Kevin looked like our father when he was his age. It didn’t seem to bother K.J. though. Never once did he frown or give them a dumb look.

  I wore a stupid look on my face during the whole service. The only time I stopped looking hateful was when I would turn around to look at Shyanne, who sat in the pew behind me. Shaun was a no show. I called him on his cell phone to let him know about the death and funeral, but told him he didn’t have to wrap up his business early on either account. Though I missed him, I was enjoying staying with my mother and brother. Shaun was due to return the following day.

  At the burial site, I managed to slip away from the crowd and stand in the background. I used my pregnancy and the size of my belly as a reason not to stand too close to the hole in the ground prepared for my father. I didn’t know what sense my excuse made, but no one wanted to argue with a soon-to-deliver pregnant woman. Shyanne stood back with me, holding my hand.

  Several times during the service and again at the burial site, Shyanne asked if I were okay, and I would nod my head affirmatively. I don’t think she really believed me, but I was serious. There was no love lost or found with my father’s death. I simply resented having to be a part of his celebration of life. As far as I was concerned, other than the fact he was part of Kevin’s and my creation, there was nothing about his life worth celebrating.

  Nana’s small house was filled to capacity, overflowing with folks that came by to eat after the funeral. There were so many people in the house I lost track of Mama and Kevin, soon after I found myself a comfortable seat. Shyanne was sticking to me like glue, however. She was only now away from me because she was in the crowded kitchen preparing us both a plate of food.

  Nana Westbrook came and sat next to me. From the moment she put her butt in the chair, the baby started kicking and moving around fiercely. I guess she was reacting to the nervous energy that always surrounded my conversations with Nana. I rubbed my stomach to try and calm my daughter. Nana took notice.

  “Is the baby kicking, Lindsay?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “That is such a special feeling, ain’t it, baby? Feeling the life of your child moving around inside your belly; knowing that you would do anything in your power to protect that life from all hurt, harm, or danger. Yes indeed. Being a mother is the greatest gift God gives a woman.”

  Nana wrapped her arms around her waist as if she were holding on to her own unborn child. She was rocking back and forth in the chair, and I realized she was trying hard to keep herself from crying. All day long, folks walked around sad and sorrowful; it amazed me. How could they grieve someone they had no contact with for more than sixteen years?

  Nana pulled herself together. As if reading my mind, she started answering the question that I never actually voiced.

  “You know, Lindsay, it doesn’t matter how grown your children are or what age they get to be, they are gon’ always be your children. Losing even a grown child to drugs or the streets is always gon’ be hard on a mother. You get this guilt inside of you that makes you wonder if maybe you could have done something different.” Again Nana took time to compose herself before she continued talking to me.

  Shyanne returned with my food. She sat on the floor at my feet eating and listening to Nana talk. I held my plate in my lap. The baby was still so active I couldn’t eat.

  “When a child passes away from this life before his parent, it is the most unnatural thing in the world. It’s real hard, Lindsay, real, real hard. Your daddy may not have been much of a father to you and Lil’ Kevin, or much of a husband to your mama, but even if he wasn’t nothing else in this world, he was my child.”

  Nana was still able to keep the tears from falling, but I could tell she was in a lot of pain. That made me feel sad. Not for my daddy, but for his mother.

  “I feel really bad for you, Nana,” I said.

  “Me too,” Shyanne co-signed.

  “But you know what? The way I see it, life recycles itself. That baby you’re carrying is coming in your daddy’s place. She is God’s way of taking up the space in the family left vacant by his death.” Suddenly all the pain in Nana’s face just disappeared. She now wore a huge smile.

  It was great to see Nana smiling again, but I didn’t like the comparison she made. I didn’t want to think of my daughter as a replacement for my dead daddy. I refused to associate anything good with my father. I know what my mama said about forgiveness being what God wanted, but He was going to have to give me a little more time. Instead of spoiling Nana’s good intentions, I kept my thoughts to myself.

  “Well, I have talked your ear off long enough now. I’m gon’ get myself in this kitchen and grab something to eat before all these folks eat it up. You remember what your grandma told you now. Take good care of that child, okay?”

  “Yes, Nana. I’ll take great care of my daughter. I promise.”

  I stood up and gave Nana as big a squeeze as my belly allowed, along with a kiss on her cheek. Then I attempted to put my big butt back in the chair. Before I was completely seated, a pain shot through my back and around my stomach that caused my knees to buckle. Shyanne jumped to her feet and grabbed me to keep me from hitting the floor. I couldn’t express how great the pain was I felt.

  “What’s wrong, Nay?” I could hear the fear in poor Shyanne’s voice.

  “I don’t know, Shyanne. I just had this terrible pain in my ... Oooooh no!”

  “I think it’s time for my great grandbaby to be born.” Nana was grinning from ear to ear.

  “It can’t be time. I’m not due for another week. Besides, Shaun won’t be home until tomorrow. I can’t have my baby without Shaun,” I whined as I cautiously sat on the edge of the chair. I was too afraid to put my butt completely in the seat. I didn’t ever want to feel the pain I did when I initially tried to sit down.

  Somebody obviously told Mama I was in distress. She and K.J. came running into the living room. “Are you in labor, Nay-Nay?” Mama asked. “Yes!” Both Nan
a and Shyanne answered at the same time. I was terrified, praying it wasn’t true. I didn’t want to have my baby without Shaun in the delivery room. I guess God wasn’t listening to that prayer because the next thing I knew, a sticky liquid poured from between my legs onto Nana’s nice chair.

  “I knew my great grandbaby was gon’ come today. I just knew it. That’s just why I had that little talk with you about one life recycling itself to make room for another. My God works in mysterious ways.” Nana was shouting and lifting her hands to the sky.

  I guess you had to be an old lady to get your prayers answered in this house.

  Chapter Fourteen

  January 1997

  I stared at my daughter in the amazed wonder of a mother, marveling at how very pretty she was. She looked so much like her daddy it was frightening. Each and every day of the two months Shauntae Devin—it’s all about my brother and my best friend, not my father—Taylor has been here, I have noticed something different and more special about her. She is wonderful, beautiful and perfect. Motherhood made me so sappy.

  On the day my daughter was born, Shyanne and Mama stood in as my birthing coaches, getting me through the longest, most agonizingly painful eight hours of my life. I alternated between ear piercing screams with the labor pains and heart wrenching cries because Shaun was not there. It was a mess, but the result was my beautiful daughter.

  Along with my daughter came the return of some of my spiritual fervor. I have been praying everyday asking God to make me the best mother possible. I have continually prayed for my child’s health and development, and I have been in church each Sunday since the Sunday Shauntae was christened at three weeks old. On that Sunday, Shaun also joined us in church, but on that Sunday only. I have also included in my prayers a desire for Shaun to develop a closer relationship with God.

  Though Shaun’s relationship with God was not very strong, ours has been pretty close to perfect. He was a no show for the birth of our daughter, but he has been the most attentive dad and boyfriend since coming home from Florida the day after she was born. I have rarely gotten the opportunity to see Shaun interact with his son because of the restrictions put on by Rhonda, so I had no true idea how great a father he was. He has been the bizzy bomb.