The Morning After (2 page)

“Ma, I'm going next door to help Ms. Angel, okay?” he called from the front door of the home that he shared with his mother.

Jerrod turned around when he heard Jennifer step from the kitchen. She used a dish towel to dry her hands and said, “I thought you were gonna watch Austin while I got dinner ready.”

“He don't need me to watch him no more.” Jerrod pointed to Angel's sleeping one-year-old toddler while he spoke. “Ms. Angel's over there by herself and I know she needs some help. I'm done with my homework, so I can go help her pack up some of Ms. Essie's things.”

“I don't know, Jerrod.” A look of apprehension settled in on Jennifer's face. “I think it's real nice that you want to help, but packing up Ms. Essie's things could turn out to be a lot harder than you might think. Do you really believe you can handle being in her house again after all this time, and seeing all her stuff get packed away?”

Jerrod tightened his jaws and swallowed. He hadn't been inside Essie's house since the wee hours of that morning when they found her there, barely alive. Moments later, she was pronounced dead. That was a year ago. Ever since then, Jerrod had trouble just passing the vacant property where Essie used to live. Going inside hadn't even been a consideration—until now. This morning, Jerrod was determined to do it. He'd given himself the pep talk last night, telling himself that it was time to man up and stop being a coward. Just the thought of placing all of Essie's belongings in boxes and putting them away somewhere, never to see them again, was tugging heavily at his heart. But he couldn't let his mother see the strain.

Jerrod's claim that his plan was to help Angel was only partially true. In reality, he needed to do it for himself. He hoped that somehow, by helping to pack away the things that belonged to the woman that he'd come to love dearly, it would in some way help him bring closure to the pain of the loss of her, and bring an end to a year of restless sleep. If Angel, a woman who was closer to Essie than anyone else, could gather the courage to go inside Essie's house and dismantle her things, Jerrod reasoned that he could too. Essie would want him to be strong and do what he needed to do, and for Jerrod, it was important that Essie be proud.

“You ain't got to worry about me, Ma,” he answered, trying to shrug his shoulders in as carefree a manner as he could muster. “It's cool. I got this.”

Jennifer smiled, embracing her son, who over the past year had grown to a height that exceeded hers by two inches. “All right, then. When you get over there, let Angel know that her baby is in good hands, and tell her that she and Colin can eat dinner with us if they want to. It's already late, and I know she won't feel like cooking. My food won't be as good as Ms. Essie's, but it'll serve the same purpose.”

“Okay.” Jerrod had barely gotten the one-word reply out of his mouth before the front door of his house closed behind him. He'd had to rush out as soon as he could to keep his building emotions hidden from his mother. Hearing Jennifer mention their former neighbor's cooking seemed to smother Jerrod. He needed to breathe.

After inhaling deeply for the third time and releasing the breath into the comfortably warm spring air, Jerrod wiped a threatening tear from the corner of his left eye and walked down the steps of the front porch. His mother's home was only a few feet away from Essie's. As he climbed up the steps that would lead him to his former neighbor's front door, Jerrod stopped to mentally prepare himself to walk inside. He had gone through a myriad of emotions in the year since he watched the mortuary staff lower Essie's stunning white marble casket into the ground.

It had been a beautiful funeral despite the sad occasion. Essie didn't have any living family members, but no one would guess that from the crowd. Never before had Jerrod seen so many people try to fit in one church. Temple of God's Word was clearly too small to accommodate the demand, but Angel felt that it was the place of worship where Essie would want her service to be held. There were as many people standing on the outside as were sitting on the inside. Old, young, and middle-aged people; black, white, and Asian people; family, friends, and just plain nosey people. A few tears were shed, but most were too busy praising to weep. Even from the inside of the edifice, Jerrod could hear a frequent, “Hallelujah” and an occasional, “Praise our sho' 'nuff God” from those who could only listen to what was taking place on the inside.

In the early days following her demise, all Jerrod felt was overwhelming sadness. He refused to cry at the funeral, and he dared not fall apart at school. But, at home, it was a different story. Many nights Jennifer sat up with him, and sometimes she cried with him too. Those nights when it was too much for his mom to handle, she called for the assistance of T.K. Donaldson, Jerrod's track coach, who also happened to be his mother's steady boyfriend. T.K. had been a big source of support and strength. He had become Jerrod's hero, of sorts. But as much as Jerrod admired and respected the man that he simply referred to as Coach D, he tried not to get too close. Over the years, he'd seen his mother's boyfriends come and go, and the last thing he needed was to become too attached to T.K., and then have his heart broken, yet again, by a man whose relationship with Jennifer didn't work out.

After the devastating sadness eased, Jerrod found himself angry. Not at anyone in particular; just angry with the world. It didn't seem fair that Essie would be taken away from him at such a crucial time in his life. He needed her, and without her strong hand to set him straight when he found himself making the wrong choices, Jerrod feared that he'd slowly drift back into the old ways that he'd just broken away from shortly before she died.

“The best thing you could ever do to honor Ms. Essie's memory is to keep your determination to stay out of trouble, and keep your grades up. If you do that, you can always feel a sense of satisfaction because you will know that even from heaven, she's proudly smiling down on you.”

That was what T.K. told him back then, and that was what Jerrod had been focused on doing. It was important to him to have Essie's approval . . . even from the grave. Jerrod had promised her that he would continue to respect his mother and do well in school, and somehow, no matter what, he had to keep his word. This school year, his grades were better than they'd ever been. For the first time in his life, he had made honor roll in the first semester. And this term, he'd not once been sent to the office for misbehavior. That was a milestone that even the principal had commended.

“Hey, Jerrod. Are you coming over to help out?”

Angel's voice broke into his thoughts, and only then did Jerrod notice that he'd just been standing on Essie's porch, staring at nothing in particular.

“Yeah . . . I mean, yes, ma'am.” As far as Jerrod was concerned, Angel, who was still in her twenties, wasn't old enough to be categorized as a “ma'am.” But Essie had taught him that it was just proper to show respect when talking to adults. “Ma said I could come over and see if you needed any help.”

“I sure do.” Angel smiled at him, but the whites of her eyes carried a hint of pink. Jerrod wondered if she'd been crying. If so, sadness wasn't detected in her voice as she added, “I never knew that Ms. Essie had so much stuff until I started trying to get it packed. I hate that Colin couldn't be off to help me, but you'll do just fine. Come on in.”

He was a bit fearful at first, but as Jerrod stepped through the open door, he immediately felt at home; just like he did when Essie was there. As he continued to follow Angel, Jerrod couldn't help but take note of her flattering figure as she strolled ahead of him. When he was first introduced to her, Angel's belly was swollen with Austin growing on the inside of her. And for a few months following the delivery, she wore oversized clothing to hide her still bloated stomach and expanded hips. Now she had lost all of the post-pregnancy weight, and in Jerrod's eyes, Angel was as fine as any of the girls at his school who had never even had babies.

A stifled grin made the corners of Jerrod's lips quiver.
No wonder Mr. Colin is always so happy
.

“I've been working on Ms. Essie's bedroom, getting some of the clothes and other personal belongings packed,” Angel announced, snapping Jerrod from his mannish deliberations. “There are two boxes in that corner over there. You can start taking the things from the shelves here in the living room and pack them away. The photos can go in one box, and all the other decorative items in the other. If you don't mind a little extra work, I need you to use pages from this newspaper to wrap each of the pictures before putting them in the box. I don't want to break any of the frames.”

“A'ight,” Jerrod said, his eyes scanning the shelves that lined the living room walls.

“You think you can handle that? I didn't give you too much, did I?”

Jerrod accepted the old Sunday edition of the
Atlanta Journal-Constitution
from Angel and almost laughed at the unnecessary concern in her eyes. “No, ma'am. It's all good.”

“Great.” She released a heavy sigh before heading back toward the bedroom. “Call me if you need help or if you have questions about anything.”

The task of packing away all of Essie's whatnots and pictures took more effort and was more time-consuming than Jerrod first thought it would be. Sometimes it was his own curiosity that slowed his progress. He had seen many of the pictures on the shelves in the times that he had visited Essie's home, but there were several that he'd never noticed before, and he took the time to admire each one before putting them away. Each framed image seemed to tell its own story of a particular time in the elderly woman's life.

The photo of a youthful Benjamin and Essie Richardson had always been the centerpiece of the middle shelf. Though time had faded the photo a bit, it was still easy to see that Essie's soft, beautiful features and his strong, handsome ones made them an attractive couple. The wood framed picture was larger than all of the others, and that alone made it the automatic focal point. Jerrod began carefully wrapping it in sheets of newspaper, and he couldn't help but smile as he thought of how happy Essie must have been to be back in the arms of the man who had died so many years before her.

The next photograph that caught Jerrod's attention was one of Essie sitting in her rocking chair on the porch. His heartbeats quickened as he reached for the picture and held it in his hand. This was the way he would always remember her. With the possible exception of the kitchen, the porch seemed to be Essie's favorite place to be. That was where she was the first time Jerrod had seen her. It apparently brought her great joy to sit and watch the happenings in her community.

Jerrod sighed. He'd give almost anything to see Essie Mae Richardson again. Just to hear her voice, giving him a word of advice, would be a welcome sound. She often visited him in his dreams, but to come into contact with a strong presence of her while he was awake would be a wonderful experience.

The sudden sound of the grandfather clock in the corner stunned Jerrod as it resonated throughout the house. The teenager's hands trembled, and the photo that he had been holding slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor. Had it not been for the plush area rug beneath his feet, the protective glass would have shattered.

“Jerrod, are you okay?”

Spinning around, Jerrod looked at Angel, who stood beside the living room sofa, looking at him with concerned eyes. He felt warm moisture on the sides of his face and realized that tears had begun streaming from his eyes. Using his bare arms, he wiped them away and then kneeled on the floor to pick up the photo and to hide his embarrassment.

“Jerrod?”

“Yes, ma'am, I'm fine,” he said, without looking up. Jerrod hoped that Angel would just go back into the bedroom and continue with whatever it was that she was doing in there, but he heard her footsteps nearing him, and from the corner of his eye, he saw her sit on the La-Z-Boy where Essie often sat and watched
The Price Is Right
, the only show that she looked at on a daily basis.

“Jerrod.”

It took all of the boy's strength to steady his trembling lips. Jerrod wasn't intending to be rude by ignoring Angel's call, but he knew that if he opened his mouth, he'd lose the battle that he fought to hold back a rush of tears.

Slipping from the chair, Angel sat on the floor next to him. Jerrod's vision was so blurred by the rising flood that he couldn't see clearly; but he felt Angel's hands cover his while he continued to hold securely to Essie's photograph. Complete silence dominated the room for a moment, and Jerrod wrestled not to even blink, knowing that doing so would be all the push that his awaiting tears needed.

“It's okay to cry, Jerrod,” Angel whispered. “I do it all the time. I know how hard this is. Why do you think I waited a whole year to pack her things away? It took me that long to be able to come in here and do it; that's why. Ms. Essie wasn't a blood relative of mine, but I'd known her all of my life, and she had always been like a grandmother to me. It's painful for me to come to grips with the fact that she never got to hold Austin, and he will never get the chance to personally know the woman who was more influential in my life than even my own mother.”

Despite his valiant efforts, silent tears slipped from each of Jerrod's eyes and ran down his cheeks. They met at his chin, and then dropped to the floor.

“None of us were ready for her to die, Jerrod,” Angel continued. “And although every single time I cry, I feel like Ms. Essie is scolding me and telling me not to be sad because she's in a much better place . . . I still cry.”