Single Ladies (8 page)

"Yeah.  I'll be okay, eventually.....did you have a safe trip?"

"Well, I'm talking to you in one piece.  Yes, baby." she attempted to make Daphne laugh.

There was no cheer in her voice. "That's good.  I miss you already."

"I miss you too.  Listen, if anything you know- happens, please call me.  I am more than willing to leave here and come there to be by your side."

Daphne's heart lifted with happiness, at the thought of her lover being by her side through her hardship, then sank immediately, as she thought about having to explain to Denise's friends, and people she knew from her past, who Jas was to her.

"It's okay, love.  I'll manage.  You just do it big out there.  Make me proud."

"I will. I love you"

"Love you, too."

The beauty of the morning sun, that spilled through the gold drapes of the lavish hotel room, was easy to ignore for Daphne as she rose to shower.  She wasn't showering to leave for a shopping spree or a day of self-pampering.  She wasn't on vacation.  She was watching her only brother wither away from a painful illness; and for the first time, she wasn't able to talk the pain away, or come to his rescue with words of encouragement.  There was nothing she could do about it.

  Just as she was about to call Jas, her phone rang.  Palpitations and dizziness overwhelmed her body as she saw the hospital's phone number. 

"Hello?!" she exclaimed anxiously.

"Daphne Elliot, please."

"This is Daphne Elliot."

"Hello, mam, this is Natalie Headstrom, I am a nurse of Darnell Getty..er, Denise Getty, I'm sorry."

"Yes- yes, what's wrong with Denise?!"

"Calm down, mam.  I need you to get to the hospital immediately."

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH DENISE! WHAT'S GOING ON? PLEASE TELL ME!"

"Ms. Elliot, I'm going to need you to calm down and listen to me.  I need you to get here as soon as possible."

Daphne hung up the phone and grabbed her car keys.  Her perspiration made her silky black hair stick to her neck.  She bolted out of the hotel.  Traffic was hectic and she was shaking with anxiety until she saw the enormous pewter and beige building.

The elevator took, what seemed to be an eternity.  The doors barely opened and she squeezed her tiny frame through the small opening.  She ran past the nurse, who was approaching her to talk.

She saw three familiar faces sitting in the waiting area.  Two of them were drag queens, who were good friends with Denise.  The other, was, Shameka, Denise's best female friend.  When she saw tears streaming down Shameka's face, she felt her legs go weak.

"Oh, God! Meka- Meka what hap-"

Two nurses embraced her from both sides and escorted her to a quiet place in the hall. 

"Daphne, I'm Natalie.  We spoke just a moment ago."

"What's going on?! Is Denise gone?"

"No. Denise has developed a terrible infection from the initial opportunistic disease and has slipped into a deep coma."

Daphne placed her hands on the sides of her head and squeezed her eyes shut.  Her attempt to escape reality was unsuccessful.  She opened her eyes, to find herself still at the hospital and still in turmoil.

"So- so Neecey's gonna be alright.  Right?!  He'll just wake up from the coma sooner or later right! Yeah, that's gotta be right cuz he fought for every other FUCKIN thing in life and he sure as hell is gonna fight now, RIGHT?!" she cried.

Shameka, and Denise's other friends heard the commotion and ran toward Daphne. They formed a circle around her, and everybody was trying to calm her down.

"Daphne, baby, I know it hurts, but just know that you gotta stay strong.  For Neecey." his friend, Andrew, better known as Anastasia, pulled Daphne from the center of the circle and hugged her tight.

"I know, Staci, I know!" she cried hard.

She started to calm down, after words of compassion from everyone.  She turned to the nurse.

"Can we see him?"

"Briefly.  He can probably still hear you, so if you want to say something to him..", the nurse tried to force a smile on her empathetically saddened face.

"We've already been in.you go head boo", Denise's other friend, Terrence, better known as Trixie, said, in a forced, soft tone.

The sound of the door shutting behind Daphne was like the sonic boom of a jail cell closing.  Emotionally loud and shattering to the soul.  The room was dimly lit, and the only noises were the beeping of the machines that he was hooked up to, and the death rattle in his lungs.  She softly took steps toward his bed.  Every step forward, felt like a step backward.  She barely kept her composure, as her mouth started trembling again.  She managed to pull herself together for Denise's sake.

She grabbed his hand that was free of an iv.  She leaned close to him and spoke quietly.  "Well, you managed to pull a fast one on me, huh?  You waited until I left , then pulled this shit." She chuckled.

"Neecey, you always told me that I was the one who kept you going....but honestly, you kept yourself going.  You were always so strong.  So hard and ready for whatever.  I remember when those guys thought they were gonna jump you from the West side.  It was three of them, too. They surrounded you and called you all kinds of names.  Faggot this.  Sissy that.  You told them to bring it on!" though tears were streaming down her face, she let out a high pitched laugh.  "The biggest one was way taller than your six feet and when he swung on you, you ducked and came back up with a right hook outta this world.  You whooped his ass and one of the dudes he came with, too.    I can still see the third dude running away, scared as shit, while you stood there and whooped the hell outta the other two.  Everybody ran to see what was going on and I kept hearing people saying that a female was out there whooping two dudes.  Then everybody came to find out it was Denise Getty!  When those girls and their brother tried to take my Gucci bag at Steelo's one night, you came through and scared them off.  Oh and I can't forget the one night, when Larry D pulled that gun on you and you stood there, in your stiletto heels, with your hair laid out, and a bad ass outfit on and you told his ass to go ahead and pull the trigger."    I remember how you fought in the community.  All those LGBT demonstrations and activism that you were involved in.  So, you didn't always fight physically.  You fought for the cause, too.  His breathing became more and more shallow.   His cheeks were sunken in and he lied there, feeble and helpless. Her tears started flowing, uncontrollably and she fought to get her words out, through her sobbing.  "Neecey, you always fought your way out.  No matter what came your way.  You always had that stubborn ass personality.  Ready and down for whatever........  Well, I aint ever really asked anything of you before.  But now I'm asking you to do something for me.  Something for yourself."  Her whole body was shaking as she leaned all the way down and whispered in his ear.  "Stop fighting.  Please, honey, stop fighting.  You are the champion.  You have nothing to prove anymore, Neecey.   I'm right here with you, now." She rubbed his long, thinning hair.   " I'm gonna walk with you.  Every step of this short journey you gotta go babe.  All you gotta do is hang them gloves up. It's okay to let go. It's alright now. Go."  She kissed the cool, clammy skin on his small face. "Go, " she whispered again.  She felt him give a weak squeeze on her hand, and the small glimmer of hope that he was about to wake from his comatose state, faded into the end of his mortality.   She released his hand after a few seconds and bawled.  

As she walked into the hall, four more of Denise's friends had shown up.  One of her few distant cousins from Chicago had also arrived.  She shrugged her narrow shoulders and whispered.  "Neecey's gone."

The dinner party was a happy occasion, just as Denise would have wanted it to be.  One of his favorite songs,  "On the Ocean" by K-Jon was playing softly, as a slideshow of his beautiful photos were displayed on the large flat screen.  Neither Angie, Roni, or Karla could make it to California on such short notice, but sent their deepest condolences. Jas offered a second time, to be with Daphne, in her time of bereavement.  Daphne wanted nothing more than for the dinner party to be over and for her to get back to Atlanta, to her life, and a peace of mind. 

Pictures of Denise, when he was vibrant and extravagant, were all over the West End LGBT Center, where he volunteered many hours of his time, befriending other people living with AIDS.      Denise was happy to be among his good spirited friends who loved him dearly.    There was also a video of him in a drag show he performed in New York, that started to play on the television.  A lot of his clothing went to Anastasia, since Trixie was such a proud, big, and beautiful tranny who was almost seven sizes bigger.  Shameka was given some of his photos and a few of his Gucci and Prada bags. Daphne took a few of his hats, stiletto boots to remember him by, and many of his photos.  She also had the urn that held his precious remains. 

She spent hours hugging and talking with lots of Denise's friends, going through photo albums, and listening to them share stories about who Denise really was to them, and how she impacted their lives.  A lot of them talked about their lives with HIV and AIDS.   They also talked about how Denise had such a great impact on their lives, with her lively personality and optimism. 

Restless was an understatement, as Daphne attempted to get a few hours of sleep before her flight back to Atlanta.  Her unsuccessful attempts forced her into turning the television on, but she could focus on nothing she saw.  She held the remote in her hand and scrolled through channels hysterically.    Her mind kept reverting back to Denise.  She looked over at the urn that held his ashes.  Memories of him flashed in her mind and closed her eyes to reminisce.  She saw his smile, so vibrant and carefree.  The sound of her cell phone jolted her back into reality. 

"Yeah?" Slightly annoyed, she dropped the remote.

"Baby, it's me," Jas's voice was soothing.

"Hey babe.  I- I been meaning to call you, but-", she began.

"I know.  I know and I understand.  You've been through a lot.  I just can't wait for you to come home so that I can take care of you."  There was a period of silence.  "You alright, love?"

"Well, you know what?  I'm going to be.  Denise wouldn't have it any other way.  If he could see me sitting here moping around about him, he would probably smack me," she laughed.

Jas chuckled.  "So, when is your flight?"

"Uh, I'll just be there by seven.  I was just going to catch a nap, because I'm exhausted.  Once I get up, it will be time for me to shower and prepare to head out."

"Well, I can't wait to see you.  It will be really late, when I get back in a couple days, but I'm coming straight to you."

"I don't care what time it is.  I don't care if you wake me.  Just use your key, come in, ease in the bed with me, and hold me.  I need to see you.  I need to feel you."

"And you will.  Very soon." Jas replied.

"I hope so," Daphne said.

"Get some rest.  I love you, Daphne," she said.

"I love you, Jas."

After all was said and done, Daphne was back home in Atlanta, and inhaling the aroma of strawberry and jasmine potpourri, in her condo.  As usual, her home phone and cell phone voicemails were both full with messages, that she just didn't feel like listening to. 

She walked over to her elegant, yet contemporary Rozania fireplace that was encased in cotton white stone and luminating ivory marble with barely visible swirls of terracotta, and placed the gold urn in the center.  She unpacked a framed black and white photo of Denise in his early twenties, and sat it next to the urn.   She lit two vanilla scented votive candles, on either side of the photo and urn.  She took advantage of her private time, to celebrate the life of her brother.

Chapter 10

Karla

"Hello, Gaile. How you been girl?" Karla made small talk with her friend, who was the coordinator at the women's safe shelter in the area.  She tried not to give it much energy, but her compassion for her clients, never let her give up, easily.  " I was wondering if my client, Deanna Warren ever signed into the shelter?"

"No, she hasn't.  I don’t have a Deanna here at all.  Actually, my newest client came over two weeks ago.  I was wondering what happened when you made that referral, and no one showed up."

They ended the conversation, when Karla got a call on her second line.

"Karla Gill."

"Well hello, Ms. Gill.  This is Tony Mitchell, from the Serenity Center.  We-uh exchanged cards at the evening worship service."

"Yes, how are you?" she was astonished.

"I'm blessed. Doing well. And yourself?"

"Oh, I'm good. Can't complain."

"That's great.  Listen, I know it's a short notice, and I really didn't want to be a bother to you, but I have a young man in my afterschool program, who's mother is in a physically and emotionally abusive relationship.  Apparently, she just recently pressed charges on the boyfriend, and he's serving time in jail.  He will be released soon, and she is unsure of what to do or what her options are. I'm not sure if one in particular is a client of yours already.  Her name is Valerie Jones.  If she isn't,  I was wondering, if I could refer her to you?"

"Definitely.  Not a problem.  If at all possible, just email her information to me, you know contact information, if no phone, an address, and also pass my contact information, here, to her."

"Wow, you are heaven sent.  I really feel bad for this kid that I'm mentoring.  His situation is really hectic, and if I can get him and his mother some assistance, I'm sure that his life would change for the better.  He's a straight A student.  Motivated.  But, he's seen too much and had to grow up too soon.  Been getting in and out of trouble these past few weeks, and I'm worried about him.   Hey, I'm sorry for rambling, I do that a lot, but-"

"Oh, no, it's no problem.  I am glad that you are concerned about our youth the way you are.  Maybe implementing domestic violence awareness will prevent some of our young men from committing the crime.  It's an awful thing."

"Yes, it is."

There was a short period of silence.  Karla cleared her throat, softly.

"Thanks for your time Karla.  I'll forward the email to the one on your business card, right?"

"That's correct."

"Okay, thanks again."

"Anytime".

Marsha tiptoed back to Karla's yellow-orange office and peeped her small head inside.  "Hey, girl.  How's it going?"

"Hey, Marsh.  Nothing new, so I guess that's good, huh?" she chuckled.

"Yeah, I know what you mean."   Marsha shook her head.  "Hey, your last appointment called and said they would be ten minutes late."

"Sheila Barnes, right?"

"I think it was Sheila, wait- no, it was Elaine Steele.   Nevermind, it's Sheila, because she's always your last one."

"So, what's the story with Vince?  I heard he's transferring his job."

"Girl, your guess is just as good as mine.  He's been looking pret-ty very stressed out lately.   I will find out though."

"Well, not that I'm caught up in workplace gossip, but I do wonder about that." Karla smirked.

"You are a mess!" Marsha giggled.  "Anyway, Brown & Baker has a wonderful sale this weekend, don’t miss it! Everything half off!   I think they're going out of business.   I know how you adore those African print dishes, sheets, and things like that."

"I do! Girl, I almost forgot.  You should go with me, if you aren't doing anything."

"As a matter of fact, I will.  I'm gonna sneak away from that hubby of mine, and do a little small shopping.  I like the little whatnots and figurines they sell.   Maybe he'll be out with Mikhail when I sneak home with the bags, " Marsha joked.

"Don't have Marcus yelling at you on my account," Karla laughed.

"Yeah, right. I run the show at my house, honey.  You know, I let him think he's wearing the pants, but I'm the one dressed in slacks, you feel me?" Marsha gave Karla a hi-five.

"Yeah, okay, Miss Tuffy. I'm going to call you Saturday morning, so we can hit it early."

"Alright, hon", she tiptoed back to her office.

Karla always made Sheila Barnes the last client seen, whenever she scheduled an appointment. for six months and wouldn't have had it any other way.  Dealing with her was mentally draining.   Sheila was bipolar and also suffered from post traumatic stress disorder.   She cried the first half of the session, laughed the other half, and never answered any questions directly.   Karla blamed it all on the fact that  Sheila was usually heavily sedated or slowed down by her prescribed benzodiapines and antipsychotics. Karla usually let her talk, cry, and sent her on her way with an encouraging word, and an occasional food voucher or referral, based on her immediate needs.   During that particular appointment, she became suddenly overconfident and told Karla of her plans to hold down a full time job, leave her abusive husband, and get her thirteen year old son back, whom was in foster care.   Karla spent almost the entire session, trying to persuade her that it might be a better idea for her to stay on disability, get the police involved to put a restraint order on her husband, and seek assistance with getting stable with decent housing and more counseling, before attempting to get her son back.    Eventually, she succumbed to Sheila's delusional talk, and handed her two buss passes to begin her employment search.  She knew all too well that when she saw Sheila again, employment, leaving her husband, and getting her son back, would be the furthest thing from her mind.

Unaware that it was going to be raining that day, Karla left her umbrella at home, and had to literally run into the grocery store. 

She never looked up, as she was inspecting and carefully selecting peaches, plums, and grapes.

"I wonder if you could make a good cobbler with those peaches," a male voice, said softly from behind her.

She turned around swiftly.  "Oh" she was surprised to see Tony Mitchell from the church.  "Tony, hi", she smiled politely. 

"What a nice surprise.  I didn't expect to see you anymore until church Sunday."

"Well, being a fruit addict,  I had to get in here and get my fix."

He looked in her cart. "Yeah, I see that. I am going to grab a few of those plums, myself.  They look good.  Nice and ripe. Hey, listen, did you ever get a call from the lady I called you about?"

"Um- actually, I didn't.  I had clients booked solid, and my calls were diverted to my voicemail, so I guess I will see on Monday."

"Oh, okay.  Well, it was very nice seeing you, again."

She smiled.  "Talk to you soon, Tony."

She started to walk away.  "Hey, Karla."

She turned around slowly, "Yes?"

"You never answered my question."

"Which was?"

"Can you make a good cobbler with those peaches?"

She paused, then blurted out. "Actually, no, but I make a killer banana pudding."

"That does sound yummy.  It would be wonderful with some lamb chops,  roasted garlic herb potatoes and a tossed salad."

"Mouthwatering menu, Mr. Mitchell." she laughed.

He laughed too.  "You are quite the comedienne."

"I try," she smiled.   “Well, I’m gonna get going.  You have a good night.”

"Hey.  If it's not too much trouble, can we go out for breakfast or a cup of coffee sometime?"

"I really dont-"

He held his hand up.  "Just a cup of coffee.  Maybe at the one on the corner of Dale and 86th."

She thought about it, momentarily.  "Okay."

"Okay.  Tomorrow.  Meet me there, at around two o'clock if you can."

"Three is better for me.  I'll see you, then."

He watched her as she walked to the register. He was only hoping that this was the beginning of something beautiful.