My Daughter's Boyfriend (31 page)

I think the fact that I found myself squinting, searching for those signs and wonders, showed how utterly desperate I’d become.

Say something,
I screamed inside my head.
I’m listening,
I wanted them to understand. I was convinced that someone knew something, if I could only get them to admit it.

But when I got tired of the search, and took one final glance up in the crowded sky, I marveled at how the firmament displayed so much of God’s glory. Beautiful colors, shapes, and images that perhaps the world hadn’t before seen and might never see again. And by the time I decided the clouds weren’t going to open their mouths, that they just wanted to show off how beautifully elegant they were, the only thing I could do was look and wonder. Wonder why, even when I felt desperate enough to unlock a mystery, the answers still refused to be revealed.

I wept inside my hands, shaking my head at all the things I’d been doing for the past few months. Secretly glad that Aaron liked me more than my daughter. Jealous of the time when he was still dating her until he could tell her that he’d chosen someone else. Elated that he’d changed his mind about giving her that Christmas present.

My heart felt mega-heavy. I was so afraid. So alone. I wanted to yell and scream, but what good would it do? Why have a voice, if there’s no one who can listen? So I was quiet. My mouth was numb, tongue stuck inside it, feeling gluey, gummy, and tasteless.

“I’m so thirsty,” I said, as my stomach growled pitifully again. It was a loud and vicious growl. An angry sound that blasted from the depths of my belly.

“Huh, that’s a laugh. Even my stomach’s pissed off at me,” I thought.

I sighed and looked at the passenger seat. Saw the bag.

I tore open the bag and smiled when I saw the leftover food. Half a piece of sausage sandwich, a few eggs, and five swallows of orange juice.

“Oh, ohhhhh, thank you, Lauren.”

I picked up the eggs with my hands; a few ants were crawling on them, but I flicked them off and filled my mouth with the food; the eggs were cold but I hardly cared. I was laughing and crying at the same time. I thought of my daughter, Lauren. Wished I could touch her and feel her kiss against my cheek. Wished I could hear her whine, “Oh, Mom.” Wished I could hold her in my arms like I did when my mother first handed her to me on that eleventh day of November. My skinny self was bruised and sore, body shocked in a natural kind of way after just going through what nature called me to do. She was such a sweet baby and she smelled so good. Even when she was just three hours old, her eyes were big and luminous. She looked at me like I was the most wonderful thing she’d ever seen. And I looked back at her. “You’re Lauren Hayes,” I said. “And I’m your momma, I’m Tracey.” I nuzzled her precious little cheek with my nose. “And—and I love you.”

I told a person whom I hadn’t even known a few hours that I loved her. She was breathing, she was healthy, and she was mine. I didn’t abort her; I didn’t sign her life away to an adoption agency. I wanted to keep her. Raise her. Have the privilege of leading her little life and seeing how she made out down through the years.

Lauren.

I opened my purse and fished out a wallet-size photo of her that was snapped when she was eight. She had a couple of missing teeth back then. Snaggle-toothed, cute, and smiling. Her head full of wavy red and blond strands. Kids would always tease her about her hair. Not because it was ugly but because it was different. She stood out even if she didn’t want to.

Yep, that was my Lauren.

She was a pretty good kid, as kids go. She’d been making decent grades until recently. She abided by her curfew; she’d listen to me when I’d advise her. She might complain, but she’d always do as I asked. And she’d held off from having premarital sex.

She
listened
to me.

At one point, yes, she did.

“I’m so blessed,” I thought.

A lot of other teens would have gone right out and gotten rebellious and had sex with ten different boys by now. Bringing home diseases, babies, and live-in boyfriends; sneaking boys in to live inside their rooms without their parents having a clue.

“But not my Lauren,” I said aloud.

Stuck my chest out. Raised my head.

I wished I could hear her voice just more time, and that she could hear mine. If she were with me right then, I would’ve told her how proud I was of her. And that I did—I did love and care about her. I may not have told her often, but really I did.

AFTER I DIGESTED THE LITTLE BIT
of food, for some reason I started singing. It was a song they used to sing when I was a teenager in the Church of God in Christ.

Everything will be all right
Everything will be all right
After the storm comes passing over
Everything will be all right

I sang it softly to myself, the same old words, the only words I could remember. Sang it and didn’t think of anything or anyone else. And once I’d completed my concert, I looked up and noticed the sun breaking through the clouds. The clouds looked like a horse galloping across the sky; a man was sitting on a giant horse and they were headed my way. I sat up in my seat, the sun brightening my face. The man was smiling and nodding at me. I waved, but he didn’t wave back.

I looked around and noticed the water had receded.

When did that happen?
I thought.

I opened the door, got out, and lifted the hood.

Jumped back inside the car and pressed my foot on the accelerator again.

I-i-i-i-i-i-i-i . . .

“Okay, okay, I recognize that sound,” I said softly.

My bottom lip quivered, but I stopped it almost as soon as it started.

“No, no, no. Not gone cry, no more tears. I know I’m getting out of here, I just
know
it.”

ANOTHER HOUR DRAGGED BY.

I sure wished I could use the bathroom. I could feel the tension, the hot liquid aching to be released.

One good laugh, and my car would’ve become a public restroom.

Lucky for me wasn’t anything funny.

After a while I heard the sound of a car driving down the street. I looked up, barely having the strength to lift my head.

The car was taking its time, driving as slow as a hearse in a funeral procession.

I snapped my door locks. Looked around for something heavy to hold. My body was trembling and I didn’t want anyone to know my true feelings. So I was sitting and shaking and I heard the car coming closer and closer. It stopped behind me. I kept looking straight ahead, acting like I was driving and I was going somewhere. The hood was lifted, but I was still driving. I’m getting the hell out of here, I think.

Moments later I sensed the presence of a person standing next to my window.

I averted my eyes. Had no time to play “eye tag.” Got somewhere to go.

But their presence broke my concentration and I removed my hand from the steering wheel.

I heard a light tap on the window.

I froze. Took my foot off the accelerator.

They tapped again; one, two, three more times.

“Tracey? Tracey, it’s me.”

I looked up.

A man who looked just like Derrick Hayes was peering at me through the window. He was standing there wearing a Houston Astros hat, a black T-shirt, and some jeans.

What was he doing here?

“Open the door,” he yelled.

I poked out my lips and shook my head.

This time the optical illusion surprised me by pounding on the window. I jumped and quivered in my seat.

“Tracey, open the damned door,” he said.

Feeling like what-the-hell, I grabbed the door handle and counted.

Ten, twenty, thirty.

The door opened slightly; he swung the door open all the way and I gasped when he grabbed me.

He reached for me and lifted me out of the car, pressing my weakened body onto his.

I let him pull me against his chest; he was warm, strong, and determined enough to keep me from further trembling.

He stared into my eyes. Never flinched. Those penetrating eyes were quite gentle and warm, making me feel comforted. I stared at him like he was the knight on the horse.

Thing is, I didn’t even know Derrick knew how to ride a horse. Didn’t even know.

DERRICK MERCIFULLY PRODUCED
a pair of jumper cables and attached them to my battery. I was sipping on some lukewarm soda from a six-pack he had stored in his trunk.

“Tracey, when I say ‘now,’ I want you to pump the accelerator and start the car.”

“Okay.”

I sat in the car, waiting for Derrick to give me the word. My head erect and stiff, I mentally sifted through all the drama I’d recently endured. God knows, if you’d asked me what kind of hope I had a few hours before, I wouldn’t have been able to give an answer. The outlook was too dark for me to be optimistic. But now that Derrick had arrived and things were being handled, the nightmare didn’t seem as bad as it had when I was going through it. I shivered just thinking how, even though that experience was extremely trying and difficult, I had still gotten through it. I’d still won.

“Now!” Derrick yelled, interrupting my thoughts.

Vroom. Vroom. Vroom.

The roar of the Malibu’s engine sounded like an elegant melody, like I could hear after being deaf all my life. I rested my head against the steering wheel.

“Thank you, God. Thank
you.
”

Derrick called a towing company. Thought it would be safer.

We were bobbing along in his car.

“How’d you know I was here, Derrick?”

“I didn’t know.”

I looked at him.

“Seriously, Tracey. It was so bizarre. I was driving around in the area and something told me to turn left. I wanted to turn right and actually I did, but there was this ringing inside my ear, urging me to go back the way I came. I turned the car around and followed through until I came down this road, which looked like it had water receding from earlier flooding. When I kept driving and saw your Malibu, I then knew why I was led down that street.”

I said nothing, just stared into space.

“How long were you out here?”

“I don’t know. Had to be since . . . I dropped Lauren off around seven-fifteen. It was sometime after that. Seems like weeks, though.”

“I’m sure it does.”

I stared at Derrick’s profile. It was so rare that we had been in the same car together, I didn’t even have anything to compare it to.

Felt weird. Surreal.

“Have you heard from Lauren?” I asked softly.

“Yep, she made it. Flight was delayed, but believe it or not, Lauren said the ride didn’t feel any worse than normal. That was shocking.”

“You’re telling me.”

“So, I told her I’d pick her up this weekend but she’d have to ice this flying stuff for a while.”

I smiled. Rocked in my seat.

“Why aren’t you at work today?”

“All the roads surrounding the store were closed down.”

“You’re kidding.”

“And let me tell you, I’ve been working at that particular branch forever, and that has never happened before.”

“I can’t believe this,” I said.

“Me either. Me not going to work is like—”

“No, I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about this. Us.”

He looked at me.

“We’re actually having a normal conversation.”

“You’re nuts, Tracey.”

“No, I’m not. We never speak to each other like this. You know it’s the truth.”

“Well, if you ask me, we could have held decent conversations all along, but if it hadn’t been for some stubborn, cocky—”

“Watch yourself, now.”

“Just joking.”

“And that’s just fine with me,” I said, and stared out the window like it was my first time seeing the world.

DERRICK HAD OVERSEEN MY CAR
being dropped off at the local dealer. He drove me home, and waited on me as I took a shower and changed clothes. Thirty minutes later we were getting some lunch at the IHOP on Sam Houston Parkway near Westheimer. Every direction you turned, you could hear patrons relaying their flood story, or listening to someone else tell theirs.

“This is just a day of unprecedented occurrences, huh, Derrick?”

“Tracey, please, you’re taking away all the fun.”

“Okay, I’ll shut up, but I can’t help it.”

“Yes, you can. Just chill out, relax, count your blessings, and keep breathing.”

I ate my plate full of buttermilk pancakes; then I ordered a BLT sandwich and drank two large apple juices. I started to get a steak dinner, but Derrick shook his head.

“You already got rescued from death this morning, and now you about to come in IHOP and kill yourself from overeating?”

I laughed and nodded.

Felt good to be alive.

HE STOOD IN THE DOORWAY OF MY
home. The cool afternoon air sent a thrust of wind through the apartment. I stood with my arms folded under my breasts. Felt kind of awkward. My rescuer was staring at me like he’d never seen me before.

“Tracey, I’m glad everything’s turned out all right and that you’re home safe. In the past I know I’ve swore up and down if you were ever in trouble, don’t look my way, but I guess you didn’t have to, because I looked yours. We always claim what we won’t do if we’re put in certain situations, but the true test of character comes when you’re in the midst of that situation and you end up doing the thing you never thought you’d do. Don’t look at me all crazy; I’m just as shocked as you are. Never thought I’d extend my hand out to you.”

“I never thought I’d take your hand. Never knew I’d have to,” I said solemnly.

“Well, today proves with everything we think we know, sometimes we just don’t know
nada
.”

“You’re telling me . . . well, I don’t know how I can ever repay you, Derrick. Hey, thanks for breakfast—”

“And lunch.” He smiled.

I smiled, too.

Derrick turned and started hustling down the stairs.

I waved at him, but he didn’t wave back.

Aaron 34

“Daddy, we love you,” I said aloud to his weakening
body, because maybe he would hear me and respond. Maybe my dad would act like the one I always knew: vital, concerned, and supportive. Right now he looked like none of those things. He looked more like a kid than a dad. His face was parched and his cheeks sunken. His five-foot-ten body had shrunk to about half that size.

I was standing near his hospital bed. Tan walls, white sheets, and tiled floors. My dad looked like a little ball drowning in a sea of nothingness. And I felt guilty. Something I rarely feel.

“He hears you, baby. I know he does.” That was Mom. Nethora Oliver looked a breath away from death herself. Her normally sparkly eyes were dim and darkened. She had new wrinkles, and her smile hadn’t been seen in weeks. At least not the smile I was accustomed to seeing. I squeezed my mother’s hand. She nodded, but refused to look at anything besides her husband.

“You really think Dad can hear us?” I asked.

He was in a coma. Had been that way for the past few days. I was so grieved I hadn’t been able to sleep. Sleep would have been like a thief. I had to talk to my dad, or hear him talk to me, just one more time.

“I know he can. Sometimes I see his eyes twitch even though they’re closed; and plus hearing is always the last sense to go . . . not that Lendan is going anywhere.”

Her voice was strong, determined. She didn’t have to put on for me. But I hoped she really believed what she was saying. It was going to take faith to believe something that didn’t agree with your vision.

I laughed inside, feeling overwhelmed and incomplete, bewildered, with an unusual urge to weep.

“Why don’t you go and get yourself something—”

I shook my head violently. Who could eat at a time like this? Dad wasting away, and I’m pigging out? I didn’t think so. Fear had killed my appetite. It would take a miracle to resurrect it.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m getting a bit hungry,” Mom declared. Her weary voice was left teasing the air, so I rose to my feet.

“What you want, Mom? I got it.”

“Get me a veggie plate. No dessert, no dairy products either.”

“I know, I know. Be right back,” I said, and glanced at my dad’s body. I was saying it for his benefit as much as hers.

I made my way down the hall, and just when I was about to get on the elevator, I looked up and noticed the pay phone. Smiled. Fished around my pocket for a quarter and two nickels. It had been a while since I’d used a pay phone, but my cellular was almost like an afterthought these days. I’d probably tossed it underneath something at home.

I dialed her number. It had been so long.

Pick up, pick up,
I thought when the phone rang three times.

Her recorded voice spoke from the answering machine. I started to hang up, but instead cleared my throat.

“Hey, you. I’m here at the hosp—”

“Aaron?”

I closed my eyes and laughed.

“Why are you screening your calls, Tracey?”

“I’m not screening. Didn’t get to the phone in time . . . how are you, baby?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Oh, but I do. I wish I could be with you. I want to see you so bad. Hold you in my arms. How’s your father?”

My chest heaved.

“Well, Tracey. He’s uh . . . he’s in a coma.”

“Oh, no.”

Silence.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s . . . uh, it’s something that we kinda knew might happen, but didn’t really want to face. I mean, no one knows if he’ll pull out or if we’ll be talking to his body for another week or another six months. We just don’t know.”

“Oh, Aaron.”

“Yeah, it’s like that . . . sometimes I wonder why, though. Like, is it my fault?”

“Aaron!”

“No, Tracey, remember what we discussed a while back? That karma stuff? Maybe this is my karma.”

“Oh Jesus. Aaron, truly you cannot think that your dad is suffering . . . because of us.”

“Well, why not? The good Lord might use the closest things to you, the most important things in your life, to get your attention. Well, I can tell you this much: he definitely has my attention these days,” I said, and blotted a thin film of grease from my forehead.

“That’s it! Aaron, I want to be with you. I have to. We gotta talk. We have to—”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s a good time, Trace.”

“When is it ever a good time? I’m coming. I’m coming.”

“But my mother—”

“What about her? You don’t want your mother to know I exist?”

“I just don’t think it’s a good time to make these new introductions about my personal life right now.”

“Aaron, weren’t you the one who said a true friend is a friend always?”

I wet my bottom lip with my tongue.

“Well, I’m your friend and I want to be there. I don’t care what your mother thinks. She has a lot more things to worry about than me. I have you to worry about.”

I smiled. Felt a cry caught in my throat. It had been so long since I’d felt that way, I’d almost forgotten how a man’s own tears can startle him. Yet the things that I was feeling seemed natural. Like even though they were rare, they were still acceptable.

I sat up in my seat.

“Okay, Tracey. We’re on the seventh floor, but I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Thanks, Aaron.”

I WAITED FOR HER IN THE LOBBY
of the hospital. The vast room was dotted with spaced-out looking visitors who were either pacing or slouched on the burgundy fabric seats. I was too hyped to be still. Kept jamming my hands in the pockets of my too-small jeans. The fashion police would have handcuffed me that day. It was like Hilfiger didn’t matter anymore. I walked up and down the hallway like it was a treadmill until I saw the familiar shape of Tracey’s head as she entered the lobby.

She looked to the right and to the left. Then our eyes met.

Her cheeks spread into a relieved grin. Her slow walk transformed into a sprint, and soon we were in each other’s worlds again.

“Mmmmm, I’ve missed you so much. I have so much to tell you,” she murmured, covering my cheeks with wet and wild kisses.

I knew I was blushing, and it didn’t bother me as much as I might have thought. I grabbed her hand, gripping it tightly. She squeezed me back, searching my eyes for signs of life.

“Missed you too, love. You just don’t know.”

“I do, I do, believe me I do. I’ve been through
sooo
much.”

I shot her a look.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, you have too. That’s one reason why I’m glad you let me come. We need each other, Aaron. We really do.”

Tracey and I then took a seat in some chairs near the grand piano. I was glad she was there with me, easing some of the pain, reducing some of the loneliness.

Her eyes traveled the scope of my attire. I waited for her to ask, “What’s wrong with your clothes?” but she simply smiled.

“You look good, Aaron.”

“Uh-huh. Well, what been up with you?”

“Oh, it doesn’t really matter. How are things with your dad? Your mom?”

“Same ole, same ole. I’m getting tired of this.”

“Oh, Aaron, why you say that?” She looked stressed. Shocked, I guess.

“I’m sorta feeling a bit cynical these days. I can’t get over what you said a while ago. That girl named Karma.”

“Not funny, Aaron. I don’t wanna hear anything like that. If anything, think positive. You gotta think the best, not the worst. You are not to blame for what’s going on with your father, Aaron.”

Her tone was sharp. Eyes ablaze. We were no longer holding each other’s hands. I felt abandoned just that quick.

“WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG, SON?”

I stood in the middle of the doorway to my father’s room. Tracey was right behind me. I felt her firm breasts pressing against my back.

Took a deep breath.

“Mom, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

I stepped aside like a curtain unveiling a scene on a stage.

Tracey walked tentatively into the room. Mom’s eyes bored into her with curiosity.

“Hi, I’m—”

“Mom, this is my . . . this is a close, close friend, Ms. Tracey Lorraine Davenport.”

Nethora Oliver nodded her small head and inspected Tracey from the top of her hair to the tips of her leather boots. Managing a smile, my mother stepped forward. “Nice to meet you.”

Then Mom looked at me like
Why didn’t I know about this one
before now?

I tapped Tracey hard on the shoulder, and we stepped next to my father’s weakened frame.

I smiled, but it held a hint of bitterness. “That’s him, Tracey. That’s my dad.”

She reached out and stroked Dad’s arm, rubbing it and rubbing it like she was a mechanical device.

“Hi, Mr. Oliver. I’m Tracey, Aaron’s friend. I want you to know you have a wonderful son.”

I punched her.

She jerked her shoulder.

“You have nothing to worry about, you’ve raised a fine young man.” Her warmth embraced me as she smiled, her pupils a sea of water. I blinked like my vision was about to disappear. Never wanted things to be like this. Never thought that the first meeting between the lady in my life and the man in my life would be under these circumstances.

I glanced at Tracey again. This time her eyes were shut tight; I could see her mouth moving like she was mumbling. Her voice a faint whisper, but then, like the clanging of a church bell, her words began to rise:

The Lord is my shepherd
I shall not want
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures
He leadeth me beside the still waters
He restoreth my soul

Then Mom’s voice began to layer on top of Tracey’s. Two women strong. The words of God filling up the hospital room, filling my dad’s soul, mind, spirit, and body. I wanted to join in, but couldn’t recall all the words.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord
Forever.
Amen.

I closed my eyes briefly and repeated, “Amen.”

Mom teased me with a sad grin. “That’s all you can say, son? Amen?”

“Amen,” I said, looking at my father with my head held high.

TRACEY AND I WERE STANDING
outside my dad’s room. Mom was singing hymns over his body, talking to his ear, rubbing his arms.

“Thanks for the spiritual backup, Tracey.”

She blushed.

“I don’t mean this the way it sounds, but . . . I didn’t know you knew stuff like that, Tracey.”

“I didn’t either. I mean, I know that passage, but hadn’t thought about it in a long time. As a matter of fact, just recently I went through an experience where I couldn’t think of a biblical verse to save my life. The words just wouldn’t come, until now. It gives me chills just thinking about it.”

I nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Well, with everything that’s been going on, I wanted to make sure and let you know I think everything between myself and Lauren is going to be okay.”

“Oh yeah? What up?”

“Well, I had the strangest, scariest experience a couple days ago. I told you how I was stuck in the car and all and Derrick happened to come and . . . well, he rescued me.”

A man’s pride will crumble at times, and I blurted, “And now you’ve decided to be with him? Be a family?”

“No, no.” Tracey shook her head. “I mean we held a civilized conversation. He’s even called to check on me a couple of times since then, but we’re not making plans to be together, or move in with each other. Not in the least.”

“Oh.”

“I was thinking more about Lauren. I was thinking how important she is to me, and how insensitive I’ve been toward her through this whole . . . experience.”

My throat tightened like an invisible noose was being yanked hard around my neck. I wanted to say something, but couldn’t. Couldn’t do anything but listen. My voice disappeared as Tracey’s voice took precedence.

“You know, sometimes it takes a crisis to pull a family together or to reestablish priorities,” she said.

I lowered my head, slid my eyes to the floor.

“Aaron, I’m sure you can vouch for that. I know you’ve seen your mom more times in the past few weeks than you’d normally see her. Am I right?” Her voice projected, her volume was loud. And she talked as if she really didn’t need me to answer. So I gave her the thing that was easiest to give, a nod.

“And right now I want nothing more than to hold my daughter in my arms, and try to lessen some of her pain.” The pain of my own heart smashed my hope into a million pieces. And as much as it hurt to listen to her, I forced myself to look up.

Yep, things were just like I feared. Tracey had this self-assured look on her face, a look of strength and purpose. A look that swept me to a forgotten corner. And I didn’t like how that felt. As though who and what I’d been to her no longer mattered. As though I was disposable. How could she replace what we had? Were the roots of our relationship that weak?

I paused. Didn’t want to sound like a punk, but I still needed her to know where I was coming from.

“That sounds all fine and good. But where does that leave me?”