His Woman, His Wife, His Widow Page 9

  On the night he told me about his occupation, Shaun explained how he first began working in Uncle Bobby’s organization.

  “Lindsay, when I told you and your mom that I began working with my uncle after my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was telling the truth. However, Uncle Bobby’s collision shop is a front for his very elaborate drug business. When I began working for him, I only operated within the collision shop, serving as office manager because I had no knowledge whatsoever of how to repair cars. But after a few short months, my uncle recognized my intellect and my skills as a leader. He asked if I wanted to take a risk and earn three to four times what he paid me as his office manager. I told him yes and he has been training me in the drug game ever since. Because I’m family and because I was smarter than his average worker, Uncle Bobby put me in charge of three houses he had here on the west side. The territory I run has since doubled, and my uncle is continuing to groom me so that I’ll one day be his partner instead of simply his employee.”

  While Shaun’s revelation came as no surprise to me, I was nonetheless disheartened by his admission. I may be a Christian, but I was not naïve. I have lived in Detroit all of my seventeen years, and I knew that what Shaun did, even under the protection of his uncle, was dangerous. I have prayed, every night since the night he told me what he does, for God to keep him safe until something better comes along.

  And something even more dangerous than what Shaun did for a living would be if my mama found it. I could never allow that to happen. Heck, she was still in the dark about Sha’Ron. Shyanne was the only person who knew everything about Shaun.

  “Right, Shaun. One year from today we can begin our real life together.”

  “Well, I just wanted to call to wish you a happy birthday. I know you have plans with your family this morning so I won’t hold you any longer. I’ll see you around five this evening.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you then. I can’t wait to see what you have planned for my birthday. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “I love you, Lindsay.”

  “I love you too. Bye.” As soon as I hung up, the phone rang again. This time it was Shyanne.

  “Hey, birthday girl. How does it feel to be getting old?” she joked.

  “Whatever, clown. You are only two months younger than me, so just shut up.”

  Shyanne and her parents were going to breakfast with us this morning. That was the only reason she was up this early. During summer vacation, the only day she gets up before noon is on Sunday, and even then only after her mother practically drags her from the bed for church.

  “Are you ready for breakfast? Please don’t show up late, because my mama will hurt you and you know it,” I said to my slow-poke friend.

  “Of course I’m not ready. I just got out of bed right before I called you. But it’s only going to take me fifteen minutes to shower, throw on a pair of shorts, and leave the house. It’s not like I have to do anything special. We’re only meeting you all at Bob Evans,” Shyanne said teasingly.

  “Since you feel like that about it, you will no longer be invited to my birthday breakfast.” I joked right back with her. “Go ahead and get ready. I’ll talk to you when I see you.” I hung up before she said anything else smart.

  As I picked out my outfit for breakfast, someone knocked on my door. I opened it to find my granny standing there with her arms opened wide for a big hug. “Hi, Granny,” I said as I stepped into her arms.

  “Hi, baby. Uh oh! Maybe I shouldn’t call you that anymore since you’re just one year away from being a legally grown woman.” Granny rocked me back and forth in her arms wrapped in a big bear hug. I love my grandmother so much. She always gives me the best advice, and she never treats me like I’m stupid, even when I make mistakes. I imagine that’s how God is. I sometimes equate Granny with God.

  She came into my bedroom and closed the door behind her. She sat on my bed and pulled a small box wrapped in pretty dark pink paper topped with a tiny pale pink bow from her purse. “I want you to open my present before we go to breakfast.”

  I sat down on the bed beside her and tore open the wrapping to get to my present, anxious to see what was inside. I opened the tiny box to find a beautiful gold bracelet with an assortment of gold charms; each representing various things I shared with Granny over the years. There was a pair of roller skates, a small tennis racket, a little key that probably represented her funny attempts at teaching me to drive, a baby doll, a piano that represented my one and only lesson which I absolutely hated, and a single heart.

  “Granny, this is so pretty. These charms are too cute. I have figured out the meaning of all of them except one: the heart. What exactly does that represent?”

  “Oh, sweetie, that one should have been the easiest of all to figure out. It represents my unending love for you.” There were tears in her eyes. I reached out to Granny for another hug. By the time we parted, we were both balling like three-year-olds.

  “Thank you so much for this bracelet, Granny and for everything else you have ever given me; all the advice you have shared with me and for just being my granny. I love you too.” Granny smiled at me with a perfect set of white teeth that I’m sure was not all hers.

  “Okay, enough of this crying. What did that boyfriend of yours get you for your birthday? I hope it is something big enough to cover all the grief the two of you have been giving your mama. My daughter calls me everyday complaining about how much time you are spending with that rock-head boy. Her words, not mine.”

  “Granny, I don’t know why Mama doesn’t like Shaun. Why can’t she see we are serious about each other? I am not a baby! I love Shaun and he loves me, but she has a hard time comprehending it. She thinks I am too young to know what love is, and that Shaun is just stringing me along.”

  Granny nodded her head then gave me her opinion. “Sweetie, listen. Your mama was hurt real bad by your trifling daddy. I guess she’s afraid of the same thing happening to you. Now your granny understands how you feel because I was about your age when I fell in love with your granddaddy, God rest his precious soul. We had a wonderful marriage all the way up to the day he died. You were two years old when he departed. But times are different now than they were when I was your age. Men are just not as upstanding as your granddaddy. Your mama is just worried about your heart, that’s all. Cut her a little slack, okay?”

  I don’t know how Granny always managed to be on two sides at the same time and never make anyone feel bad. “I’ll talk to your mama while you get dressed; see if I can’t get her to loosen up on you a little. Now hurry up because I’m hungry. And we better not have to wait for that slow Shyanne.”

  After breakfast I sat in my bedroom admiring all of my birthday gifts. All of my additional gifts had a return to school theme. Shyanne and her family gave me a beautiful pink sweater and a pair of pink jeans to help kick-start my fall wardrobe for school. Kevin gave me a lovely mint green backpack to hold my books and supplies. Any form of pastel green is my favorite color. My mother gave me a $150 gift certificate to my favorite store, J. L. Hudson’s, so that I could add to what the Kennedy’s started. Granny’s gift was still my favorite thus far. I had yet to receive my present from Shaun.

  Today’s celebration with my family began and ended with our breakfast outing. They didn’t give me a big celebration because I had a major party just last year for my sweet sixteenth birthday and I’m sure Mama plans to go all out next year for my eighteenth birthday.

  Now all I had to do was decide on my outfit for my date with Shaun tonight, and then I could just relax and read a good novel while I waited for him to pick me up.

  Donald Goines is my favorite author right now. I’m currently reading my fourth book by him entitled Black Girl Lost. Mama doesn’t particularly care for me reading his type of fiction because of Mr. Goines’ graphic and explicit content, but she also recognizes and respects that I have my own taste. She gives me the freedom to have my own forms of interest and expression, trusting that m
y relationship with God and her parental guidance won’t allow me to be shaped by what I see and hear in the world. Mama says as I mature and get closer to God, my likes and dislikes will change.

  The phone rang in the kitchen, and I was sure it was Shyanne calling for the third time since breakfast to see if I have figured out what Shaun has planned or what present he has given me for my birthday. It seems she was more interested and anxious than I was.

  I heard Kevin outside my bedroom engaged in conversation as he knocked on the door to bring me the cordless telephone. “I can’t wait for school to start, Grandma. I’ll be a freshman at Henry Ford High School this year,” he said as he entered. “Right. That’s the same school Lindsay goes to.”

  When I heard Kevin use my first name I knew he was talking to my father’s mother, Nana Westbrook.

  “Here’s Lindsay, Grandma. I’ll talk to you later. I love you too.” Kevin handed me the phone, then left my room.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Lindsay. Happy birthday, baby.”

  “Thank you, Nana Westbrook.”

  I call my paternal grandmother by her last name in order to keep our relationship formal rather than familiar. I regard our relationship as distantly neighborly versus intimate. I rarely see or even talk to her. And with the way my daddy up and left us, I refrain from getting close to her just in case she decides to bail out on us one day also. I realize it may be silly to feel this way since it has been thirteen years since my father left and she’s still around, but this has been my strategy to guard my heart since the day I accepted that my father was never coming back.

  “Baby, I bought you a nice sweater for your birthday you can wear to school this winter. When Henry comes back from Ohio this weekend, I’m going to have him bring me out to your house so I can visit with you all. I’ll bring the sweater with me then.”

  Henry is my father’s brother. He is the one person on that side of the family we see on a regular basis. I like Uncle Henry a lot, but just like Nana Westbrook, I keep my feelings for him in check.

  “I look forward to seeing you then, Nana Westbrook. Thank you very much for the sweater. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

  “You’re more than welcome, baby. I know it’s been a lot of years, but I still feel awful for the way your daddy ran out and left you all. I try to do the best I can to help you all when I can. Saddest thing about Kevin leaving is he hasn’t contacted anybody in the family since he ran off. We don’t know if my son is dead or alive. It ain’t right to just leave and not get in touch with nobody for thirteen years.”

  This is the main reason I don’t like talking to Nana. Every time we talk she brings up my absentee daddy. I would rather not discuss him at all. I realize she must grieve his absence, but I could do without having to be constantly reminded of his desertion. I never have the heart to tell Nana how I feel though. I usually just change the subject or end the conversation.

  “Well, Nana Westbrook, I have to go. I’m getting ready to go out with some of my friends for my birthday. Thanks again for the sweater, and I’ll see you this weekend.”

  “Okay, sugar. You go on ahead and enjoy your birthday. You make sure you be good and keep God first, you hear me? I love you, baby.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I love you too. Good-bye.”

  I’m always in a funk after every conversation or visit with my Nana. Although I have gotten over my daddy leaving us without so much as a kiss my butt, I would rather not be reminded of it when I talk to her. Maybe this weekend I’ll tell her how I feel. That way, she just might stop talking to me about him.

  I have learned to deal with my daddy’s leaving by just pretending I never knew him at all. I pretend he was never here in the first place. Pretending he was dead would mean I might have lots of fond memories of him or miss him. I don’t! I was only four years old when my father left. The only nice thing I remember about him, the only memory I have at all of him, is of the day he took me to the supermarket with him. Just inside the building was a coin operated toy pony, and I asked Daddy if I could ride. I remember him sitting me on top of the pony very gently, making sure my feet were properly placed in the stirrups and the lap belt was on correctly. Each ride cost a quarter; my daddy must have spent about a dollar and fifty cents. I was having a royal ball on top of that horse.

  Three days later, he was gone. He left without a word, a note, a telephone call. We have remained in the same house since he left, so he knows the address. Never once has he tried to contact us to find out if we were dead or alive.

  No, I don’t think pretending he’s dead is fair. Death implies the possibility of going to heaven and living with Jesus. I don’t want that kind of comfort for him; streets paved with gold and angels at his beck and call. I get more satisfaction from just not thinking about him at all. It feels better to pretend he never existed. Someone who was never a part of your life can’t leave anything behind. How does one grieve the loss of someone who was never there?

  “No, Shyanne. Shaun is not here yet. I don’t expect him until seven-thirty. He called me a little while ago to let me know something came up and that he had to change our meeting time. It’s only seven-thirteen, Shyanne.” Irritation laced my voice.

  My girl had been bugging me nonstop trying to find out what Shaun got me for my birthday. That clown actually expected me to receive my gift, give Shaun a big kiss, then call her to tell her what the gift was. She’s crazy.

  “Girl, what’s taking that man so long? It’s killing me to know what he bought you. For no reason at all, he gives you lots of cool stuff like gym shoes, purses, clothes and those beautiful earrings. So I know he has something special for your birthday,” Shyanne said.

  Shyanne was absolutely correct. Shaun had been very generous since we’ve been going together. At least once a week he gives me a present. I’ve gotten to the point where I expect something from him whenever I know he’s done any shopping for himself or his son. He’s spoiling me rotten. My heart tells me that I should feel bad about all the stuff Shaun gives me since I know where his money comes from, but my mind won’t allow me to experience any sense of guilt.

  “Listen, nosey, as soon as he gets here, we’re leaving so I don’t know how I’m supposed to call you right away. You might as well calm yourself, and I’ll call you with the details in the morning.” I was having a good time antagonizing Shyanne, given the fact she’s been getting on my nerves about Shaun’s present since early morning.

  Shyanne was still dating Antonio, and things are cool between them, but I get the feeling she’s getting tired of him. If for no other reason, I believe it is because Antonio doesn’t have the kind of money Shaun has. It’s not that she is jealous of me. Shyanne simply wants what I have. She is always hinting around that she wants me to hook her up with one of Shaun’s friends. Then she quickly retracts, saying she was just kidding.

  While Shyanne doesn’t judge me about my relationship with Shaun, I know she still has qualms about him selling drugs. Yet, I think my best friend is beginning to be open to loosening her standards a little. Slipping by association.

  “Nay-Nay, you better quit playing with me. I don’t care what Shaun says. Before you go anywhere with him you better let me know what he bought you. Better still, why don’t you tell him you need to pick up something from my house? Then you can bring it over here for me to see.”

  I was cracking up laughing at her silly butt. Then I heard my mama calling me because Shaun was at the front door. Apparently, Shyanne heard her too.

  “Okay. Go and see what you got, then call me right back. Don’t play with me either, Nay. You know I’ll come over there, wait in your room for you to get home, and beat the crap out of you.”

  Before I had a chance to say anything else, she hung up the phone. I laughed again at my crazy best friend, then took the phone back to the kitchen to put it back in its cradle. I grabbed my purse from the kitchen counter and headed to the living room where Shaun and my mother were having a conversation. This made me
kind of nervous considering Mama has not had too many nice things to say about my man lately. She hadn’t even followed up on her invitation for Shaun to attend church with us. And Mama usually never misses an opportunity to take somebody to church.

  “I see you’re driving a different car today, Shaun. Is that your new car?” my mother asked, a little too suspiciously for me.

  “No, Mrs. Westbrook. It’s actually a used car, and it’s not mine. It belongs to a very good friend of mine.”

  “That car still has a registration tag in the window, so I’m assuming your friend just purchased it. Must be a mighty good friend to let you borrow a car he just bought. Is there something wrong with your car?” she asked with a cockeyed eyebrow.

  I couldn’t believe she was giving him the third degree, but as usual, Shaun handled himself like the man I had come to adore. He always knows how to speak to her without giving her reason to cause a scene.

  “No ma’am, I mean Mrs. Westbrook. My car is fine. My friend needs me to test drive the car and make sure everything is cool with it,” he said without batting an eyelash. I’m sure he must have been uncomfortable with the questioning. It was making me nervous, so I decided to speak up; get him out of the line of fire.

  “Mama, remember I told you that Shaun works in his uncle’s collision shop, so he knows a lot about cars. I’m sure he checks things out for his friends all the time.” I told her, then turned to Shaun. “We better leave if we’re going to make the movie on time,” I lied quickly. I still had no idea what Shaun had planned for us, but I needed a fast escape.

  Mama eyed us both then simply said, “I see. Well, you two have a good time. Nay-Nay, you remember your curfew. The rules haven’t changed just because you’re a year older.” She left the living room. We left also, heading in the opposite direction.

  The black Ford Thunderbird parked in front of our house was very nice. Once we got inside, I told Shaun his friend bought himself a clean used car.