True Confessions (8 page)

“Hello. Daddy, what a pleasant surprise,” I squealed into the phone. Mother sat across from me on the sofa and pretended to watch
Wheel of Fortune
. I saw her ears perk up at the mention of her ex-husband. Most of the time she pretended like he didn’t exist. Sometimes pretending keeps you sane.

“How ya doing, baby girl?” Daddy asked in that deep Southern drawl that I loved.

Daddy was a true Southern gentleman in every aspect of the word. He was the type of man who opened doors for his woman, pulled out her chair at a restaurant, who stood up when she entered a room, who held his woman’s hand, who sent her roses or left “just because” notes under her pillow. Daddy did all that and more when he was married to Mother. That’s why after thirty-plus years of marriage, everyone was shocked when Daddy, at the ripe old age of sixty, up and left Mother for a younger woman and moved down to Florida. At the time, I thought Mother was going to have a nervous breakdown. She refused to accept it. That was five years ago.

“I’m doing okay, Daddy.” Mother and I had decided not to tell Daddy about my, er, situation. There was no reason to worry and upset him too.

“How’s work?”

“Work is fine. How is Loretta?” I asked out of courtesy more than anything else. Loretta was his lady friend. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mother cringe at the mere mention of that woman’s name. Mother detested the ground she walked on and the air she breathed.

“Fine. Fine.”

“Good.”

“You’ve got to come down and visit us this summer. Have a little sun and fun. Relax and see your old man.”

“I’ll see what I can work out.”

“Baby girl, you say that every year and you haven’t made it yet.”

“Maybe this year will be different. You never know.” Secretly, I really did want to see him, but I knew Mother would take it as an act of betrayal. She claimed she couldn’t stand the thought of him, but I knew she’d reconcile in a minute if he sought it. As for now, she thought Daddy was an old fool for abandoning his family the way he did. I tried to remain neutral, because I loved them both and didn’t want to be forced to choose sides.

“I hope so. I miss you and I can’t travel like I used to when I was a young man. I wanna see you before I kick the bucket.”

“Daddy.”

“Well, it’s true. I’m not getting any younger. We all have to meet our maker someday; we can’t live forever.”

“Well, you can,” I joked. He laughed that hearty chuckle that I adored so much.

“You still dating that young man you told me about? What was his name, David or something like that?”

“Drake?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

My body instantly tensed and my stomach muscles knotted up. “No, I’m no longer dating him. We broke up.”

“Hmm. I see. Well, maybe you can kiss and make up, because I’d love to have some grandchildren before I leave this earth. Just two or three who look like their precious mom.”

“Daddy, as I said, you are going to be around for a long time to come. You haven’t been sick a day in your life; Mother used to always say you are healthy as a horse. And there’s no fixing this between me and Drake.”

“Well, baby girl, you know best. Follow your heart. Sometimes you just have to go your separate ways. If it wasn’t meant to be, it wasn’t meant to be. Just follow your heart and it won’t steer you wrong.”

“You’re right,” I murmured more to myself than to Daddy.

“What’s old gal been up to lately?” I discreetly held my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

“Who?” I asked, knowing full well who he was referring to.

“You know who, your mother, Dorothy.”

“Oh, nothing much. She’s doing great.”

“Yeah, I bet, butting into everybody’s business. That didn’t change overnight.” He grunted.

I smiled and glanced over at Mother who wanted me to believe that she was all into
Wheel of Fortune
. I knew she was clinging to every word I spoke, trying to decipher what was being said on the other end of the phone by Daddy.

“Well, baby girl, I’m not going to hold you. I just wanted to say hello and tell you that I love you, and I miss you. If you need anything, any money, anything at all, just call. And, baby girl, you know you can pick up the phone and call me sometimes too. I love speaking with you. Remember that, I’m just a phone call away.”

“Okay, Daddy, I know and I will. I love you too.”

“Well, you don’t act like it. It’s been five years since I left and I’m very happy with Loretta, but I divorced your mother, not you. One day you’ll learn that sometimes you have to live for the moment and not worry about what people will think of you, because the future is not always promised.”

“I understand—”

“No, hear me out now. That was your mother’s problem. She was always worried about keeping up with the Joneses, or what someone would think about her if she did this, or didn’t do that. Don’t live your life that way. The only radical thing she ever did was to marry me without her parents’ blessing.”

I didn’t say anything. Daddy was on a roll. When he went into one of these rare tirades all you could do was hear him out.

“Baby girl, happiness isn’t promised. Sometimes you have to seek it and work hard to keep it, but one thing I’ve learned in all my years here on this earth:
if you don’t love yourself, then don’t expect anyone else to either.”

“Daddy, you don’t have to explain this to me. You don’t need to justify your actions to me. I respect your decision.”

“Well, I wish Dorothy did. I’ve tried calling her over the years and she always hangs up after a few unpleasant choice words I can’t repeat.”

“Well, don’t take it to heart.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Like I said before, that woman will never change. Her entire stuck-up family has always held onto a grudge like it was their last dollar and ten cents. They never thought I was good enough for her and your mother was always stubborn as a mule.”

I chose not to comment. I felt funny talking with Daddy about Mother with her sitting less than a foot away from me. I played with a strand of my hair with my free hand.

“Listen to me go on and on. Let me let you go. I’ll talk to you soon, baby.”

“Daddy. Take care of yourself and I love you.”

“Me too. Bye now.”

Before I could even put down the receiver, Mother came at me with fifty questions. “What did that fool want? He still shacking up? What did he say about me?”

“What fool?” I teased.

“Child, you know who I’m talking about. Don’t act like you slow.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, that fool.”

“Oh nothing, Daddy was just calling to say hello,” I said, pretending to get lost in the game show.

“Ummph. Did he say anything about me?”

“He asked how you were doing.”

“Ummph. Next time, tell him not to worry about me. He’d better worry about that forty-five-year-old hussy and home wrecker he’s living with in sin.”

I didn’t open my mouth to utter one word. I simply stared at the TV screen and pretended to attempt to solve the next puzzle on
Wheel of Fortune
. A proper noun. I didn’t want to get Mother started. Daddy was Mother’s first real boyfriend, first love, first everything, and they married shortly after she graduated from Morris Brown College in Atlanta.

Prior to retiring, Mother worked as a librarian for DeKalb County, and Daddy worked as a mechanic for Metro Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority (MARTA). You would have thought their love was everlasting the way Mother doted on Daddy, and the way he appeared to adore her. Even when doctors determined that Mother couldn’t have children due to an injury she had suffered as a child, Daddy hung in there and assured her of his undying love, and a few years later they adopted me. From outside appearances they were living a blessed and loving life.

I don’t understand what happened. Maybe it was a late, very late, midlife crisis that led Daddy to start up with Loretta and leave Mother for her. Who knows? Mother and I never saw it coming. It was so out of character for Daddy. He gave up everything for this other woman. Was she worth it? All I know is, when I spoke with Daddy he appeared happy.

Now that Mother didn’t have Daddy to dote on, I was next in line. So, here she sat on my sofa, munching on red seedless grapes, almost a month after my situation. Sometimes, the constant attention was overbearing, but I knew she meant well and was still worried about me. I had tried to persuade her to return to her own home, but Mother wasn’t having that. She wasn’t leaving until she knew for certain that I was fully recovered and wouldn’t try anything so dangerous again.

I wanted my apartment back. I was a loner. I was used to being alone; I relished my own company. Except for when Drake used to visit or spend the night, or when Taylor stopped by for girlfriend talk, my apartment was my solitary haven. I longed to walk around in a short T-shirt, take long, hot baths, play my music, read my African American books, and light my scented candles. Sure, I could do that with Mother here, but it just wasn’t the same.

I hadn’t even gone back to work yet. Mother had convinced me to take some personal time by using vacation and unpaid days. I explained to my manager that I had a family emergency and no questions were asked. My employer was very family oriented. However, my time off had quickly slipped by and Monday I would return to work. Today was Saturday. Monday, I would receive my real life back. Monday, I would see Drake for the first time in over a month.

I could honestly say that I wasn’t going to try to take my life again. I had prayed about it and asked God for forgiveness and peace. I admit I was still depressed—that didn’t just go away overnight but I realized I did have something to live for. I had a decent life before Drake and I’d survive after him.

The last few weeks, Mother had pretty much forced me to get up and dressed every single day. We had developed a routine. Some days we went to the park and walked. Other times we sat on the park bench and watched the stay-at-home moms play with their adorable, but active, children. Of course, through it all, she kept me well fed with delicious home-cooked meals and very pampered. In my weakest moments, I dreamt of what Drake and I could have had together. If only he had truly loved me.

One day, Mother and I took in a matinee and had an early dinner afterward at a popular seafood restaurant. A few days ago, we even dropped by the library and visited some of her old friends that Mother used to work with before she retired.

“It must be nice to be a lady of leisure, Dorothy,” a gray-haired woman exclaimed. “You look wonderful. Retirement is definitely agreeing with you.”

“Thank you. I try to stay busy and active,” Mother said, leaning in for a big hug. “I saw some of the others up front. It’s so good to see everybody.”

“Same here. I’m so happy you dropped by.”

“Betty, I would like you to meet my daughter, Kennedy.”

“Well hi, Kennedy.”

“Hello,” I said.

“You are such a lovely girl, and I heard so much about you when your mother and I worked together that I feel as if I know you.”

I smiled.

“Let me tell you, your mother is so proud of you. When you went off to college that was all she talked about for weeks.”

I blushed.

“Goodness, was I that bad?” Mother asked.

“No, no. We enjoyed hearing of Kennedy’s adventures,” Betty said.

“Well, I’m not going to stay long. Kennedy and I were in the area and I wanted to stop and say hello to everyone. I’ll call you and maybe we can go out to lunch soon.”

“That sounds good. You know the number, and my schedule, it hasn’t changed.”

“I’ll do that,” Mother stated.

“It was wonderful meeting you, Kennedy. I see now why your mother is so proud of you. You are a lovely young woman. Take care of her and yourself.”

Some evenings, I would lay my head in her lap and Mother would comb and brush my hair like she did when I was a child. She’d hum a soft tune; I’d close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of the brush gently stroking my hair.

“I remember how you used to love for me to brush your hair when you were a child,” Mother said. “You’d run to your room in your pj’s and grab your special brush, sprint back into the living room, and lay your head in my lap, just like now. I would start with smooth, even, gentle strokes and would always have to brush at least one hundred times before I could stop. Sometimes you would fall asleep before I finished.”

“I had a special brush?”

“You did. It had a gold-plated handle and you called it your princess brush.”

“That’s funny,” I said, closing my eyes and enjoying the sensation of the strokes.

“Yeah, those were the days.” Mother laughed, reminiscing about days gone by. “I think your daddy used to get a bit jealous because you never wanted him to brush your hair, only me.”

She laughed and I took comfort in the memory.

One night, Mother and I gave each other manicures and pedicures. I could feel my spirit slowly mending and I knew without a doubt I was very loved.

“No, Mother, you have to trust me,” I said, enjoying the moment.

“I don’t want to wear pink fingernail polish, Kennedy.”

“You’ve been wearing that skin-tone, tan polish for as long as I can remember. Try something different tonight. For me.”

Mother slowly gave me her right hand.

“I trust you, sweetie. It’s time for me to switch it up.”

“Don’t be scared,” I kidded.

I laughed and proceeded to paint her nails hot pink.

“So, what do you think?” I asked as I finished and looked at my work.

“It’s different. That’s for sure.”

I looked at her and saw the girl Daddy fell in love with; she was still there.

“I bet your gentleman friend will love this.”

Mother blushed and surprised me by saying, “I bet he will. Do my toes.”

To her credit, she wore it for a week before taking it off.

Most days, I didn’t think of Drake. Other days, he’s all I thought of; I even saw him in my dreams, when I closed my eyes at night. He hadn’t attempted to call me, that I knew of, since the last time he had me in tears. Drake was right: he would see me sooner or later because we worked for the same company. In time, we would run into each other, and Drake was a very patient man. That I knew for a fact. The question was, would I be strong enough to see him?

Mother and I had already eaten; the dinner dishes were washed, dried, and placed back in the cabinets. It was a quiet, lazy Saturday evening and I decided to retire to my room and write in my journal. It was amazing how therapeutic writing my feelings and thoughts down was becoming. Seeing the details on paper put everything into clear focus. Some of my confessions were shameful, but I blamed them on love.

Mother wanted to ride out for ice cream later on. Her one vice was Baskin Robbins’s butter pecan, two scoops. Of course, I knew tomorrow was church. She had forced me to attend church service for the last few Sundays. Mother said for me to hand my problems over to Jesus and He’d fix them. I truly hoped so because my problems were many and I couldn’t handle them by myself. So I sought divine intervention.

As she dozed off, head bobbing now and then, I glanced over at Mother. Her reading glasses were perched on the tip of her nose and the newspaper she was reading had fallen, scattered, to the floor at her feet. She really was a great person, and I loved her for all she had done for me. She had put her life on hold for me.

I didn’t want to hurt Mother, but I had made the decision to search for my birth mom and I intended to ask Taylor to help me with the process. It was a big step, but I needed to know where I came from; I felt it would help me in my recovery process to finally have my questions about my birth family answered. I felt that some of my insecurities, which hindered my relationships, were rooted in feelings of abandonment by my birth mother.

After her divorce, Mother gradually built a new life for herself. I was so proud of her. Now she had a male friend who took her places and treated her like a queen. She had one close girlfriend, Mrs. Baker, who visited and gossiped with her. Since her retirement last year, she was even more active in her social and civic organizations. Other than talking on the phone to them, she had given up these people and activities to care for me.

By now, Mother was in serious sleep mode and was softly snoring, even though she’d swear up and down that she didn’t. As I bent down to kiss her cheek, I placed a dark green throw across her torso, then walked to my bedroom with a can of Coca-Cola in hand. Drake was always telling me I drank too much soda. In the past, when we went out, he would refuse to buy me any at restaurants. He made me drink water. For a while, I tried to heed his advice and totally cut them out, but now, I found myself drinking two or more each day.

I found my journal where I had last laid it down. Reading over the last entry was sort of painful. What was I thinking? What was I doing? Unfortunately, I wasn’t thinking with my head and the situation only got worse. A lot worse.