The Morning After (13 page)

Angel sat on the couch in the living room, making herself comfortable, like Jerrod was getting ready to tell a long and gripping story. Her eyes were wide with anticipation. “Really? What happened? You came over and stayed with Ms. Essie?”

“Believe me, I didn't want to. But I didn't have much of a choice. Like I said, Ma locked me out, and this was one of those times when she really did what she said she was gonna do if I didn't get home in time.” Jerrod sat too. “It was raining so hard that night that I saw animals walking down the street in pairs, headed for the ark.”

Angel giggled. Jerrod was glad that she wasn't as somber now as she had been when he arrived. “What happened? Did you have to settle for knocking on Ms. Essie's door?”

Shaking his head in protest, Jerrod said, “Nah. I probably would've slept on the porch before I did that. Ms. Essie heard me calling for Ma to open our house door. I guess since I wasn't getting the message that it was never gonna happen, Ms. Essie came out and told me to come over. I ended up crashing here that night.”

Angel looked at the phone that still sat on a stand near the grandfather clock. “Why didn't you just call your mother from here? You know . . . to wake her up so she would open the door.”

“Ms. Essie wouldn't let me,” Jerrod revealed. “She said it was too late to be calling anybody that time of night. I think we both knew that Ma wasn't really asleep. She heard me knocking; she just wouldn't open the door. It was her way of putting her foot down, I guess.”

“So Ms. Essie let you sleep here? That was nice of her.” Angel's eyes smiled. Jerrod could tell that she was having other fond memories of Essie.

“Yeah, it was,” he agreed. “That's when I found out that although Ms. Essie was old and all, she was still cool. She brought out fresh towels, let me bathe in her guest bathroom, lent me something to sleep in, gave me some peach cobbler, talked to me for a while, and then let me sleep right there.” Jerrod pointed at the couch where Angel was sitting.

“One thing I've never known Ms. Essie to do is to let anybody go to bed hungry,” Angel said.

Jerrod rubbed his stomach. “Ms. Angel, that peach cobbler was
slammin'
.” A rush of sadness threatened to cloud Jerrod's pleasant memories, but he smiled it away. “I sure do miss talking to her.”

Standing from the sofa, Angel smoothed out her shorts and turned away from Jerrod. “Me too.” Jerrod was sure that he heard sadness in her tone, but before he could say anything, Angel spoke again. “I put a big empty box in her closet. You mind taking the things from the hangers, folding them up, and placing them in the box?”

“Sure, Ms. Angel,” Jerrod said.

She never did turn back to face him before walking down the hall. “Thanks,” she called over her shoulder. “Call me if you need me.”

Jerrod stepped out onto the porch for a bit of fresh air. Things sure felt different without Essie around. The rocking chair she used to sit in daily remained on the front porch, but now, it always sat still. If he concentrated hard enough, Jerrod was certain that he would be able to hear Essie humming. All of her favorite songs seemed to surround the theme of God's perfect timing, but Jerrod couldn't recall any of the words. He wished that he'd asked Essie to teach him some of those songs before she died. Had he known she was going to go, he would have.

The pounding of feet against the sidewalk snatched his attention and he turned to see Elaine rounding the corner of Braxton Way. She must have been finishing up her Saturday morning run.

“Hey, Ms. Elaine.” With her Walkman strapped to her arm and with earphones plugged into her ears, Jerrod knew she hadn't heard him, but his waving arms got her attention.

“Hey, you,” she said, breathless, slowing her pace to a brisk walk and pulling the plugs from her ears. “You and Angel still packing?”

“Yeah. Yes, ma'am,” he corrected himself. “We were gonna load some things in Ms. Angel's car and take them to storage. Looks like the rain might catch us though.”

Elaine looked upward. “Looks like,” she agreed. “Tell Angel that she can call me if she needs any additional help. I can break away from the computer for a little while if she needs me to.”

“A'ight. I'll tell her.” Elaine never stopped moving, and by the time Jerrod gave his last response, she'd already passed the house.

Jerrod watch Elaine's hips sway in quick, choppy motions as she pumped her arms and eventually disappeared down the hill that would lead to her home. He had to admit that Elaine had a nice shape too, but not like Angel's. He had never viewed Elaine to be as pretty as Angel, but there was a time when Jerrod thought Elaine's body had the better curves. But that was before Angel lost her post pregnancy weight, and when Elaine was probably fifteen pounds heavier than she was now. Now, to Jerrod, Elaine was too small, bordering on skinny. As an athlete, he believed in staying in shape as much as the next person, but everybody had an ideal weight, and as far as he was concerned, Elaine had crossed over her line at least ten pounds ago.

Wandering back into the house, Jerrod headed straight for his duties. He hadn't been inside Essie's bedroom since the night she died, and he found himself beleaguered at the sight of the bed in which she drew her last breath. Jerrod closed his eyes, swallowed, and then escaped to the closet. Though the confined space was much smaller, it wasn't nearly as smothering. One by one, he took each garment—mostly dresses—down and gingerly folded each before placing them in the open box.

The closet smelled like Essie. The air in it carried that same hint of a lightly scented perfume body lotion that Essie used to wear. The aroma seemed to percolate from the fibers of her clothing, awakening Jerrod's nostrils and filling his head with more memories. One item of clothing, in particular, demanded his undivided attention. He pulled it from its hanger and held it for a long while.

“Everything okay in here, Jerrod?” Angel asked. He hadn't even seen her approach the closet doorway.

“Yes, ma'am,” he answered. Then turning to her, Jerrod held up the article and added, “Can I have this?”

Angel stepped closer and pulled the material from his grasp. Her inspection was brief, having identified the faded grey garment almost immediately. “This used to be Mr. Ben's nightshirt,” she said. “It has to be sixty years old, at least. Ms. Essie made it for him and kept it because it helped her feel close to him. You like it?”

“It's the shirt she let me wear the night she called me in from the rain and let me sleep on her couch,” Jerrod revealed. “She told me that I was the first man to wear it in over sixty years. I guess that means I was the last man to wear it too. I'll pay you for it if you want me to,” he offered. “I'd just like to have it, if you don't mind.”

Angel embraced Jerrod and smiled upon releasing him. “Of course I don't mind, Jerrod. But I wouldn't dare let you pay me for this. It was just going to get stored away just like everything else. I'm sure Ms. Essie would want you to have it.”

“Thanks.” It was at that moment that Jerrod noticed the colorful mass that was draped over Angel's shoulder. He gasped. “The blanket!”

“Yeah.” Angel smiled and held up the knitted pink and blue blanket that Essie had finished crafting just before her death. “I found it in the closet with the towels and bed linen. I think Colin placed it there. I know he came here a day after she made her transition and did some cleaning. He washed the bed linen that she died on and then placed it back on the bed once he pulled it from the dryer. He told me that the blanket was crumpled on the bed along with her covers when he came in, so he must have washed it too, and put it away.”

Remembering clearly, Jerrod nodded. “Yeah. I had put the blanket over her body when the paramedic announced that she was dead. I guess when they moved her they just left the blanket there.” He looked at Angel with hopeful eyes. “Are you gonna keep it?”

“Why? Do you want this too?”

“Oh, Ms. Angel. I'd love to have the blanket if you don't want it.” Jerrod reached out and touched the linked yarn as he spoke.

After a slight pause, Angel said, “I'll tell you what. When Ms. Essie was living, we were all touched by this blanket in some way. So instead of any one of us keeping it, why don't we all share it?” She handed the blanket to Jerrod. “I'll let you take it first. You and Jennifer can keep it for a while, and then you can pass it on, how's that? That way this will be like the tangible link that we all have to Ms. Essie's memory.”

Jerrod could barely contain his excitement when he took the blanket from Angel's grasp. When his hand made contact with it, he almost felt like he had just touched Essie . . . or that she'd just touched him. “Cool! Thanks. I promise to take good care of it.”

“I know you wi—”

An unexpected knock at the screen door, accompanied by a roll of thunder, invaded their conversation, and Angel headed to the front of the house with Jerrod following close behind.

“Hey, guys.” It was T.K.

“Hey, yourself,” Angel said, unlocking the screen door and allowing him to step inside. “What blew you on our side of town this morning?”

“You act like you never see me on this end or something.”

T.K. laughed. “I got reasons to be in Braxton Park now, you know.”

Snickering, Angel replied, “I know.”

Jerrod held his hand out. “'Sup, Coach D?”

“Not too much, kid. How's it going?”

Jerrod wasn't nearly as surprised to see him as Angel was. He knew his favorite teacher was going to show up, but so as not to mess up the little scheme that T.K. and Jennifer had cooked up, he kept his excitement under wraps and acted unprepared. “It's all good. Just helping out Ms. Angel.”

“I see.” T.K. accepted Jerrod's handshake, and then pulled him in for a quick hug.

Clearing his throat, Jerrod stifled a grin and hoped that his voice wasn't sounding anxious. “So y'all back already, huh?” T.K.'s eyebrows furrowed.

“Y'all, who? Back from where?” Okay, so T.K. was going to make him work for it.

“You and Ma, silly. I was expecting breakfast to last longer than that. Y'all ate pretty fast.”

“What are you talking about, Jerrod?” The lines in T.K.'s forehead deepened. “I didn't have breakfast with Jen. I came here looking for her.”

“Tell Ms. Nona hello,” he instructed, handing his son off to his doting secretary.

“He is absolutely adorable,” Nona said, placing her lips near Austin's ear and kissing him. “Oh, my goodness. Look at those eyes, look at that handsome smile. He's the spitting image of you, Mr. Stephens.”

Colin felt himself blushing. “Thanks. That's my Austin-Boston.”

“He's yours all right,” she said, pressing her cheek against the child's. “You couldn't have denied this one if you wanted to.”

Colin could hold back his grin no longer. “Most people say he looks like me. He's got his mama's nose though.”

“Maybe,” Nona said, looking from Austin to Colin in careful comparison. “I know one thing. He's a good baby.”

“Yes, he is.” Pride illuminated Colin's face.

“He's so quiet that I didn't even know you had him in here.” She ran her fingers through the child's curly hair.

“Austin's generally not fussy,” Colin bragged. “If he cries, either he's sick, hungry, or wearing a soiled diaper. He doesn't cry just to get attention or just to be picked up. He doesn't even cry when he's sleepy.”

“He's my kind of baby,” Nona said. Then looking at Colin, she added, “What are you doing here anyway? I thought you said yesterday that you were off today.”

“Technically, I am, so don't send any calls or any walk-in clients my way.” Colin sat behind his desk, picked up a pen, and motioned for Nona to put Austin in the playpen he'd brought with them. “Had a few things I wanted to catch up on, so I thought today would be a good day to do it.”

After placing the child down, Nona took the liberty to sit in one of the empty chairs across from Colin's desk. “After you missed your wife and son when you went home for lunch the other day, I'd figure that you'd take any day off to, well . . . be off. This couldn't wait for Monday?”

Colin pretended to be too involved in his note writing to answer right away. He was buying time to think of a response that wouldn't expose the trouble that had been brewing in his house, but one that wouldn't be dishonest either. “Let's just say, I improvised.” He closed the folder he'd been writing in and opened another. Not once during this time did he look up at Nona for fear his eyes would betray him. “I brought Austin in so that I could spend time with him and get some work done at the same time.”

“And Mrs. Stephens?”

Nona was treading on waters that she'd never approached before. She'd never probed into his personal affairs. Still, Colin opted to answer. “Angel had some busy work to do this morning that would keep her away from the house for several hours anyway. So it's not like Austin and I abandoned her.”

“Busy work? Does that mean she's shopping again?”

It was then that Colin looked up and across his desk at his assistant. He'd probably said too much during their recent chats. It wasn't Nona's business that Angel had picked up a habit of shopping unnecessarily, but talking about it with someone lessened Colin's anxiety. Nona was too busy making faces at Austin and drawing laughter from the child to see Colin's stare.

He looked back at the paper on his desk. “No, she's not shopping. Remember her grandmother's friend that I told you about?”

“The one who passed away last year?” Nona asked, now giving him her full attention.

“Yes, Ms. Essie. For the past two or three Saturdays, she's been spending time over there packing away her belongings.”

“What's she gonna do with the house? Ms. Essie left it to her, right?”

“Yeah.” Colin couldn't recall telling her that, but there was probably a lot he'd said in that state of mind that he wouldn't recall now. He pulled a bottle from Austin's bag and stood to hand it to him. It was time for a nap, and he knew the milk would do the trick. “Angel was pretty much left everything. Ms. Essie didn't have any surviving blood relatives.”

“None? How's that possible? She wasn't that old that
all
her relatives were dead.”

The disbelieving scowl that distorted Nona's face made Colin chuckle. “She was knocking on eighty—not terribly old by today's standards, I don't guess. But I know that both Ms. Essie's parents were deceased, and both her sisters passed away some years before she did. Her husband died very early in their marriage, and they had no children. So yes; she outlived everyone in her family.”

“Her immediate family, maybe,” Nona said, “but what about nieces? Great nieces? What about cousins . . . nephews? She had to have some blood relatives left, I would think.”

Colin shrugged his shoulders. “Nope. At least, none that she ever spoke of. And no cousins, nephews, or nieces ever came around, so I'm guessing they didn't exist. I never asked, but she never mentioned any either. That's why she took so fondly to Angel. She was her closest thing to having a biological family. Angel's grandmother died when she was pretty young, so since Ms. Essie and Angel's grandmother were such good friends, Ms. Essie became sort of a surrogate grandparent to Angel.”

Nona readjusted her position in her chair, then changed the subject. “So, why are you letting these folks in corporate America own you, Mr. Stephens?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you said that Ms. Essie left your wife a ton of money, right? Is it locked away so that you can't gain access to it or something? That's the only way I'd get out of my house on a cloudy day to report to a job that I didn't need.”

Colin looked at Nona again. He didn't realize what a boatload of grief he'd unloaded on her when he unburdened himself as they shared coffee at a nearby Starbucks after work a few days ago. It was the reason he'd gotten home so late the night that he and Angel had the disagreement. He'd needed a listening ear that night, and Nona's had been perfect. Colin didn't feel that his issues with Angel were topics that he could discuss with T.K. or Mason. Mason was going through his own storm, and T.K . . . well, he thought Colin and Angel had the perfect marriage. Colin didn't want to tarnish his friend's image.

“Did I say something wrong?” Nona had become concerned by Colin's unresponsiveness. “I'm sorry. I just—”

“You didn't say anything wrong,” Colin said. “But can you not say it so loud? I don't need anyone else in the office knowing my business.”

Placing her hand to her lips, Nona lowered her voice. “Was I talking loud? My grandmama—God bless the dead—used to tell me all the time that my voice carried. She was always telling me to shut up. Said I talked too loud and too much.” She sucked her teeth like the recalled chastisement brought back old childhood wounds, then said, “I'm sorry. I'll be more mindful of the volume.”

Rubbing his forehead, Colin released a sigh. “This is just not the kind of information I want to become common knowledge, that's all.”

“Oh, don't worry, Mr. Stephens,” she assured him. “I'd never do that to you. I know you confided in me in the strictest of confidence, and I want you to know that you can trust me like a big sister. None of these folks around here will ever hear me repeat anything you've said.”

Colin chuckled. “Like a big sister? You think you're older than I am?”

Nona flashed a flattered smile. “I know I am.”

“How do you know that?”

“What are you, Mr. Stephens? Twenty-five . . . twenty-six?”

It was Colin's turn to be flattered. Her guess didn't surprise him though. Most people thought he was younger than his age. When he and Angel first got married, they'd often be mistaken as teenaged newlyweds. “I'll be thirty-two before the end of the year,” he said.

“Really?” Nona looked surprised. “When you first introduced yourself on the day I interviewed, I kept thinking of how odd it was going to be to have to refer to some kid who was fresh out of college as
Mr.
anything.”

“I've been out of college for ten years,” Colin bragged.

“Well, I'm not telling my age, so don't even ask,” Nona said, grinning. “I'm not as much your senior as I thought, but I still qualify to be your big sister. So if you don't have a biological one, you can adopt me. I'll still work like a regular employee,” she added through a giggle.

Colin came back with, “If you want to be paid as one, I suggest you do.”

They shared a laugh.

“Well?” Nona pitched.

“Well, what?”

Nona rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I might be older, but you've got the worst memory. Why are you working when you don't have to?”

Reaching into his top drawer to switch from the black writing pen he had used earlier to one that contained blue ink, Colin said, “For starters, everything Ms. Essie left Angel wasn't cash money. Her home, property, and some personal valuables were included in that.”

“Still, it's enough for you to tell these folks who are overworking you to kiss your behind. You don't have to be here.”

Colin laughed. “I don't think a half, or even three quarters of a million dollars is enough to retire off of. If I were twenty years older, maybe it would be a thought. But at Angel's age and my age, and with so many years ahead of us, God willing, I don't think it's enough to live comfortably off of for the rest of our lives. Not with a growing son who, seventeen years from now, will need money for college. Despite how much money my wife has, I'm still head of household, and I have a family to take care of. Even the Bible tells us that a man who doesn't work shouldn't eat.”

“I can think of at least a dozen men, right off the top of my head, that you need to talk to,” Nona said with a grunt. “If all brothas thought like you, there wouldn't be so many single sistas in the world. Mrs. Stephens is a lucky woman, but I know she doesn't need me to tell her that.”

Colin curled his tongue to keep his mouth from forming the words that it begged to.
Please tell her
. That's what he wanted to say. Maybe if Nona told Angel how lucky she was, she'd appreciate him more; give him more love and affection.

“So how late are you going to be working today?” Nona asked, standing. She crept toward Austin's playpen and reached down. When she returned to her full height, she held a near-empty bottle in her hand.

Colin stood and looked over his desk. “Is he asleep?”

“Out like a light,” Nona answered.

Taking the bottle from her hand, Colin placed it in the middle of his desk, just above the file he'd opened several minutes earlier. Looking at his watch, he said, “I'm not sure how late I'll be here today. Probably only for another hour or so.”

“Well, if you're still here at lunchtime and want to grab a bite to eat before going home, it's my turn to treat.”

“I don't think I'll be here for three more hours, but I appreciate the offer. Even if I am, I've got Austin.”

“So? Bring him along,” she said, turning toward the door. “As they say, the more the merrier. It's not like he's gonna run up my tab.”

Laughing, Colin said, “True.”

Just before turning the doorknob to let herself out, Nona turned back to face him. “I mean it, Mr. Stephens. I'd love to have both of you join me for lunch. You're a great boss, and I enjoy your company. Plus it'll give me more time to play with my new little nephew.”

Colin hadn't felt like his company was appreciated in some time. With his parents living so far away and his wife's lack of interest, these days he hadn't felt like he had much of a family either.

“Just give it some thought,” she added with a blithe wave of her hand. “If I don't see you again before you leave, enjoy the rest of your weekend. Unlike you, I have to be here until closing.”