Under the Peach Tree (12 page)

Even though she was asleep, telling May about my past left me open and hurt and in need of speaking with my sister. I wanted to apologize for everything I'd ever done wrong. I hadn't stopped to think about how she was feeling about everything. I was selfish. Not only had I betrayed Momma, but I betrayed Faith. Her life was probably as ruined as mine was. And I missed her. She was a part of me that I didn't want to let go. She was my sister. It had been months since I'd last seen her.

When I got back to May's house, I went straight to the phone and called home. When Faith answered, it was a whisper. “Hello?” I wasn't able to say anything because my crying temporarily blocked my speech. “Hope? I thought I told you not to call.”

“I missed you, Faith.”

I heard her gasp. “After everything you did, you call to tell me that you miss me?”

“I do miss you and I'm sorry for everything!”

Faith paused, making me fear she had hung up, but then I heard her breathing. “John left. Hope, is the baby okay?”

“No, I lost it,” I said barely above a whisper, but she still heard me.

“I'm sorry.” She choked on her apology.

“It ain't your fault,” I told her, but in a way, it was. She didn't have to tell Momma that I was pregnant by John's baby. She picked Momma over me, just like John had done.

“You're right; it's your fault. Hope, if you didn't go sleeping with Momma's boyfriend, none of this would've happened.”

“I don't need you pointing fingers at me,” I told her.

She sighed. “Hope, you messed my life up. You messed everyone's life up! I don't know if I can ever forgive you.” She paused for a moment, and I heard commotion in the background. “I gotta go. If Momma catches me talking to you she gonna change our number. Don't call back.”

“Faith! Who are you talking to?” Momma's voiced crashed through the phone and then the line dropped.

I hung up the phone, but I also hung on to Faith's last words.

Don't call back.

My sister didn't want to talk to me anymore. That fact alone hurt me more than anything Momma had ever done to me. At least I was used to Momma's rejection, but Faith's? I couldn't stomach it.

Nothing was ever going to be the same.

 

 

The next few days dragged on like a football game in overtime. While Momma May was in the hospital, Norma allowed me to stay in the house by myself. She never gave me a reason why she allowed it; maybe she didn't think about the consequences of leaving a sixteen-year-old alone in a house, especially when Dante came around. No one had to worry though. I'd never disrespect Momma May's house.

I tried to busy myself with helping Dante fix the house, anything to keep my mind off of Momma May's sickness. Dante's presence helped. We were both feeling the same way, anxious and worried, hoping the next set of tests showed nothing out of the ordinary. I missed Momma May, more than I missed my own twin. Funny how things worked like that.

Dante and I were almost finished painting the house. We came up with a plan to restore what was once beautiful about it. I took some money from my savings account and bought soil, plants, and flowers. Dante bought tools and decorations for the porch. He also bought a beautiful wind chime that sounded pure and brought peace whenever the wind shook it up. When I closed my eyes, I'd imagine a tree full of beautiful diamonds and when the wind would blow, the diamonds would slowly fall from the tree, creating that beautiful melody.

“What do you want to do with the rest of your life?” Dante's question surprised me. I looked up from the soil into his curious eyes. Unlike me, he was wearing gloves and Momma May's apron. He had a thing about germs and had no fashion sense to know how ridiculous he looked. I fought back the urge to tease him.

“Um, I ain't never thought about it.” It was true. Maybe it was because I never thought a girl like me had much of a future. I thought about Faith's future and how she'd probably be a preacher's wife with at least two children and live a long, beautiful life and have plenty of grandbabies. But me? I just didn't know.

“What do you like to do?” he asked, eyeing me disgustingly as I played with the soil.

“Um, I like helping Momma May out around the house . . .”

“Then maybe you should be a nurse.”

I laughed. “No, I only like helping Momma May.”

Dante looked thoughtful. “Do you have any talents?”

“I guess I can sing,” I told him, digging my hands deeply into the soil. I liked how soft it felt against my skin.

“Can I hear you?” he asked, but he seemed more interested with me playing in the dirt. His lips twitched, like he was holding back a laugh.

“Naw.”

“Please?”

I looked at Dante. “I'll sing if you take that stupid apron and gloves off and grab that soil like a real man!”

“It's not soil.” He chuckled. “It's manure.”

“What's that?”

He laughed and fell backward, landing on the grass. I looked down at the soil covering my hands and arms. It had a weird smell to it that I couldn't distinguish.

“What?” I asked, watching him roll in the grass in laughter. “What is it then if it's not dirt?”

“It's . . . horse . . . poop!” he said through his laughter.

I immediately jumped up, screaming, trying everything to get the poop off of my hands and arms. I began wiping it on my clothes, and then got mad because that wasn't really effective, and all the while Dante was still on the ground, cracking up.

No wonder he wore that stupid apron.

 

 

Norma came over later that day. She had taken off of work early and had gone to the hospital to check up on Momma May. Dante was still around the house. We had watched a few movies and he'd attempted to teach me how to play checkers. Norma sat down, across from us, so that she could see us at the same time. I could tell by the tension in her shoulders and bags under her eyes that she didn't have good news.

“Momma is up and smiling. She asked about the both of you. I told her about all the work you two managed to get done in two days. She told me to tell you both that she loves you.”

My heart warmed. Momma May loved me.

“And then I talked to the doctors.” She sighed, rubbing her hands through her curly hair. “They said they need to keep her for a few more days, run some more tests. They said they found a tumor in her brain. They said it could be noncancerous but that they need to run more tests to be sure.”

The room around me spun. I could only hear my own heartbeat, which puttered rapidly. Dante put his face in his hands and shook his head. “No,” he said, standing up and pacing the room. “I'll pray.”

“But it could be nothing, right?” I asked.

“Even if it's nothing, they'll still want to do surgery . . . and surgery for an old woman is risky.”

“It's fine, all we have to do is pray.”

I tried to ignore the fact that Dante wanted to resort to praying the first time, but now I was angry. I jumped up, turning on Dante. “Pray? You think God is going to give Momma May a miracle because you asked? Do you know how many kids die every day from cancer? I bet they mommas prayed too. And they were left with nothing but disappointment and pain! Praying ain't gonna help nothing.”

Norma stood up, pointing her finger at me. “If Momma heard you talk like that, she'd have another stroke. Prayer is everything! Prayer is what got Momma beaten by that mayor and his wife instead of killed! Prayer caused Momma to be able to find a good man who took care of her and a baby that wasn't his. Maybe if you prayed more yourself, you'd see a change in your situation. You can't live in this house and not love God, girl.”

“Good thing it's not your house. Momma May said I could stay here. Obviously she ain't got a problem with it,” I yelled, causing Norma to step back. I'd been nothing but nice to her, who was she to judge me?

Norma shook her head. “I told Momma not to let a heathen into her house but she asked you to live here anyway. You done brought the devil with you and that's probably why Momma is sick!”

“I brought the devil with me?” I allowed the tears to flow freely. “I ain't did nothing but try to be what Momma May needed! I can't believe this bit . . . this stupid woman gonna play me like that! You don't know me to be judging me. And you ain't perfect either. You won't even tell your own grandma that her house is underwater!”

“Don't even try to turn this around on me.” Tears began pouring down her face and she didn't care. She didn't even try to wipe them away. “I am trying everything I can to bring her mortgage current. What am I supposed to do?”

“I still got over half of that money Momma May gave me. You can have it back if it'll save her house,” I said.

“No,” Dante chimed in. “No, I overheard Norma talk to the bank before and this house been underwater for a long time! She took a second mortgage out on Pastor May's house without her knowing. It was free and clear of title! Pastor May doesn't know she owes anything!”

I turned to Norma, bewildered.

“Don't look at me like that,” she said, shaking her head and twitching awkwardly. Suddenly, I noticed the bags under her eyes weren't from stress but from something else. She was good at hiding whatever it was she was hiding. So good that I thought she was an accomplished black woman. But no, there was something else eating her away, eating at her flesh. How did I not see it before? “I needed the money! My kids needed to eat. It wasn't my momma's responsibility to feed my kids! I lost my job. I didn't have any money. I hate what I did. I hate that I went behind my momma's back and put a lien on her house. And now this, more medical bills that we can't pay. Three thousand dollars down the drain! Another mouth to feed!” She paused, bending over, clutching her stomach like she was in pain. When she rose, her eyes were full of fury. “And don't either of you tell her about the mortgage. It's none of y'all's business.”

“And it ain't your business where I lay my head, Norma,” I said softly, feeling my own anger be replaced with worry for Momma May.

“Fine,” she said. She grabbed her purse and left me and Dante to deal with the stress she placed on us both.

Dante moved to my side, caressing my back, trying to console me. I wanted to push him away, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Instead, I turned into him and cried.

I cried for Momma May and all of her problems. I cried for losing my twin due to my own stupidity. I cried for the baby that had once been in my stomach, who never had the chance to live and breathe. I cried for John, although he didn't deserve my tears. And I cried for myself, because there was no one who would.

 

 

I woke up around midnight. Dante's arm rested around my shoulders and I lay against him. I looked up at him, seeing that he was sleeping peacefully. I didn't really feel like moving myself. I had been surprisingly comfortable. I rested my head against his chest and fell back to sleep.

When I woke up for the second time, Dante was missing. I heard commotion coming from the kitchen and then a scream. I jumped up and ran into the kitchen and as soon as I saw what was happening, the fire alarm went off in the house. Smoke almost filled the kitchen. I ran to the back door, opening it up, fanning the room out.

Dante was standing by the oven, fanning it with an oven mitten. Inside was a plastic plate holding deformed and burnt pancakes. The plastic had melted right through the oven racks and was dripping onto the bottom of the oven. Once that dried, it would be hard to clean up. My eyes lowered as I stared at Dante. I could've killed him.

“What did you do?” I asked while fanning the fire alarm.

“I was just trying to make us pancakes.” Dante opened the back door wider, allowing more of the smoke to get out.

I counted backward from ten, and said too calmly, “You don't cook pancakes in the oven.”

“Well, nobody told me that.”

“And you don't put plastic in the oven.” I had to force the scream to subside when I finished my sentence. “The plastic is melted now! You can spend all day scraping dry plastic out of the oven all you want. Don't ask me to help. Ugh! Dante, ain't you got something better to do than sit around an old woman's house all day? Where's your friends?”

“I don't have any friends here,” he said innocently.

“Probably because you're weird!” I said, storming out of the room.

“I'll forgive you for saying that.”

“Whatever!”

 

 

Momma May came home that Monday, looking healthy and happy. I almost cried when I saw her. I wanted to run to her, hug her, and never let go. Norma accompanied her and didn't even dare to glance in my direction as she walked Momma May upstairs. And of course, Dante was on Momma May's other side, saying how happy he was that she was home.

Momma May stopped on the last step and turned toward me; I didn't know how she knew I was there. Maybe she felt my presence; the blind always had heightened senses. She found my face with her hand.

“My beautiful Hope.” She smiled and walked inside.

It was such a small, simple gesture, but it held so much meaning. Momma May was blind. She couldn't see my outer appearance; she was referring to my heart, my soul. Those with vision can see, but are they truly seeing? Those with hearing, are they really listening? Momma May did. She didn't need eyes to tell her what her heart could. And her true sight revealed to her that I was beautiful. Maybe I was a good person.

A lot of the unspoken tension evaporated once Momma May stepped foot in the house. All the demons that dared to threaten all of our sanity fled. There was no room for them in the house of the anointed.

Winter passed by in a blur. The garden Dante and I planted in the front yard bloomed with vibrant colors. Momma May loved the new wind chime Dante had bought her. She could sit outside all day and listen to it. It was the most peaceful state of mind I'd seen her in since the doctors told us that the tumor in her brain was cancerous.

Remembering that moment and how it shattered our world was something I tried to keep deep inside. I couldn't fathom bringing it up in full details. Some things are better left unsaid.

The doctor said the cancer hadn't spread and that there may be a chance to shrink the tumor if she went through chemotherapy. Momma May rejected it, saying if it was meant for her to be healed, Jesus Himself would do it. She told us that she'd lived a full, happy life and would go willingly if Jesus called her home.

I was sitting on the porch with Momma May, listening to the sound of the wind chime and imagining a world where there was no sickness, no tears, and no pain, only laughter and joy. One where everyone had a momma like May, where there was always food on the table, where no child felt alone and unloved.

Where love and friendship were requited.

A nice black car pulled up to the curb in front of the house. I squeezed my eyes to see who it was, but the windows were slightly tinted. The driver's door opened. Dante got out of the car, dressed in nice black dress pants, new black dress shoes, a nice light blue button-up, and a pair of expensive aviators, and his hair was freshly cut into a nice fade. The world slowed around me as he walked up to the house. My mouth hung open in shock.

He stood below the first step and took his shades off, smiling up at Momma May. “Good morning, Pastor May.”

“Good morning,” I said.

Dante narrowed his eyes when he looked at me. “Hope.”

I narrowed my eyes back. “Dante.”

“Like my new car?” he said, finally coming up the stairs.

“How did you buy a new car? You don't have a job.”

“I have a trust fund my mom left me when she died. It's a lot of money.”

“What's up with the new makeover?” I tried hard not to smile. Why did I want to smile anyway?

“I needed a change.” His smile was bright but there was something mocking about it, like he knew I thought he was very attractive. Especially now. It irritated me, but at the same time I was impressed. “Wanna go on a joy ride?”

I looked behind him at the car and smiled. Why wouldn't a girl like me want to take a ride in a car like that? Especially next to a guy dressed like that? Who was this boy standing in front of me? It was like Dante turned into a man right before my eyes.

“Sure,” I said, almost too sweetly.

 

 

Dante turned a corner with too much speed, throwing me against my door. “Slow down!” I said, gripping the dashboard. The interior of the car was just as nice as the outside. He had nice black leather seats that, he explained, had the ability to heat up when it got cold; the dashboard and radio system were clean and top notch; it even had a built-in GPS system. It also had that new car scent that I loved.

“Scared?” Dante laughed, spinning around another curb, but then he slowed down and pulled into a pharmacy. He parked the car and turned toward me.

“Hope, I have enough money to pay off Norma's mortgage on Pastor May's home and pay for her medical bills,” he said. A glint of inspiration lit his eyes.

“How much money do you have?” I asked, gaping.

“More than I can count.”

“And you'd pay Momma May's bills? Dante, that's—”

“The least I could do for an amazing woman who has been there for me since my mom died. You'd do the same, too.”

I smiled. “I would. You got a big heart, Dante. And your swag is . . . better.”

He laughed. “Come on, I gotta go pick up Pastor May's prescription.”

We got out of the car and walked into the pharmacy. Dante went to the back of the store to get the medicine. I wandered around the store, looking over cosmetics and little accessories. I picked up a tube of red lipstick, wondering how I'd look in something so daring. Maybe I could use a makeover like Dante. I was still walking about in my week's worth of thrift store clothes. My pants had a hole at the bottom from wearing them so much. I could keep the money Momma May gave me since Dante was paying off her bills. Maybe I could do some more shopping of my own.

Thankfully I was able to straighten my hair with Momma May's old hot iron, or I'd be walking around with a big fro. I shook at the thought.

“Hope?”

I turned around, expecting to see Dante, but it wasn't him. I dropped the red lipstick on the floor, not bothering to pick it up as I gawked at John, who stood three feet away. He was a lot frailer than I'd remember, like he hadn't eaten a good, healthy meal in months. His clothes were bagging and oversized, his shirt had a coffee stain on it. He held some prescription medicine in his hands. I tried to make out what he was taking but couldn't. I met his stare. He almost smiled but his eyes were sad. He took a step closer and I took a step back. I came to my senses and picked up the lipstick, placing it back on the shelf with shaking hands.

“Hope, it's good to see you.” His eyes darted to the ground with shame.

“Is it?” I hadn't realized I was capable of speaking. It almost sounded like someone else's voice. Someone who was scared and fragile.

He sighed, looking down at his hands, thinking of how to approach this conversation, I was sure. He looked back up at me, and then to my stomach. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

“How is the baby?” When I didn't answer, he continued, meeting my eyes. “I've been thinking a lot about what happened. How I choked. How I made the biggest mistake of my life. Seeing your mother beat you like that—”

“And you ain't do anything to stop it.”

He dropped his head again. “You're right. I wish I could take it back. I'm sorry. I . . .” He hesitated, putting one hand in his pocket. “I couldn't run away with a sixteen-year-old girl, Hope! That was the only thing holding me back. But then I thought about the baby, it's all I've been thinking about. That and how life would be now if I would've taken off with you.

“We can fix this, Hope. Me and your momma aren't together anymore. I have an apartment. It ain't much but we can fix it up really nice, decorate the baby's room. We can have our family, just like you wanted, Hope. Come with me, right now. We can raise our baby, like you always wanted. We can—”

“John!” I almost screamed, silencing him at once. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, to do to him. I thought about it all the time: what would happen if our paths ever crossed. I told myself I'd kill him, run him over. Break his legs. Tell him how bad he hurt me, how it still affected me every day. And now I had the chance, but I couldn't find the right words. All I said was, “No.”

“No?” He was confused. “But I thought that's all you ever wanted.”

“I was stupid.”

“Hope—”

“Ain't no baby anymore. Momma killed it along with everything else. But I'm fine now . . . more than fine. Better. Stronger. Loved.”

“Hope.” It was Dante's voice who interrupted me. He looked from me to John and back to me again. I watched John look over Dante's nice attire and frowned. He looked back at me with questions in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head and Dante was at my side in less than a second. He stood by me protectively.

“You got a problem?” he asked John, who paid no attention to him.

John's eyes were focused on me, waiting. “Hope,” he pleaded. In a sick way, it made me feel good to see him beg for me the way I begged for him. The feeling went away as soon as it came. I still loved John and, regardless of what he did to me, I didn't want to see him hurting. He looked bent out of shape.

“Dante, can we leave now?” I kept my eyes low, doing everything I could to avoid the man who broke my heart into millions of pieces. Dante grabbed my hand and guided me to the front and outside of the door. John said nothing as we walked away. I was glad that he did.

Dante opened my car door and waited for me to get seated comfortably before shutting the door. He ran around to his side and jumped in. He started the car and sped out of the parking lot. I leaned back in my seat, thankful for the radio's music. I didn't feel like talking about what happened.

He pulled up to a nice park where beautiful trees provided shade over the bright green lawn. Kids crowded a small playground as parents sat at benches or pushed their child on swings. Couples were sprawled out on blankets, kissing and talking. Some kids flew kites while others played Frisbee with their dogs. It was a nice, family-oriented place. It almost made me feel happy. Almost.

“Come on.”

Dante led me on a quiet trail that cut straight through the woods. If I had been in a better mood, I would've marveled at the nature. All of the different types of trees towering above us watched as we passed, passing secrets along in the wind. Bugs flew by, resting on nearby flowers and I could hear rodents in bushes, searching for food. It was nature at its best.

We walked in silence for some time; I supposed Dante was allowing me to cool off before broaching the subject. Surprisingly, I was ready to spill it out. Tell him everything. I needed a friend to confide in, and somehow, over the months, Dante became exactly that. A friend. Yes, he had his weird and awkward moments, but he grew on me. Some days I couldn't wait to see him, just so I could pick on him and laugh. It was what we did.

But today was different, more serious.

I didn't wait for him to ask questions. I let it all hang out.

I started by telling him about my relationship with my mom and I ended with explaining how I met Momma May. The whole time he listened and really took in everything I said. Not once did he judge me. I was grateful for that. I didn't need any more judging in my life. I'd had enough judgment to last me a century.

“So, you lost the baby.” He said it more out of confirmation. “Wow. Hope, that's . . .”

“Crazy?” I laughed, although there was nothing funny about it. Maybe I did it to lighten the mood. “I know.”

“I really think you should talk to Pastor May, confess it all to her and listen to what God tells you through her. You think God doesn't love you because your mom never did, but that's a lie. God said He will never forsake you.”

“I know what God says, I just have a hard time believing it.”

“Talk to Pastor May, she'll help you. Maybe that's why God placed you two on the same path, for confirmation. Maybe God knew you'd need someone who understands you to help you come to Him.”

“Maybe,” I said. I felt exhausted. Too many emotions. “Can we go back to the car now? I'm tired. I want to go home and take a nap.”

“Sure.”

Dante led me back to the car. We sat in silence on the way home. Somewhere along the ride, I fell asleep. I didn't feel Dante as he parked in front of the house but I felt him lift me up and carry me inside. I should've told him that I was awake, but there was something about being in a man's arms as he carried me.

Dante sat me gently on my bed and kissed my forehead. I didn't stir as he lay down beside me and dozed off as well. Good thing Momma May was blind, because she would've caught a case seeing how we ended up napping in the same bed. I was glad that Dante lay next to me. Somehow he knew it wasn't wise to leave me alone in my current state. For that, he was a great friend.

I woke up first, turning toward a snoring Dante. He was calm; he was at peace. I took the time to study his face. He had long black lashes and touched his cheeks as he slept. He had small brown freckles on his nose that I'd never noticed before. I smiled, noticing the drool escaping out of the corner of his mouth.

I decided to mess with him. I plugged his nose until a loud snore erupted from his mouth. His hand shot straight up and I moved my hand away as he rubbed his nose and settled back into a deep sleep. I waited a few seconds before I did it again, making him jump this time. I buried my face in my pillow and laughed. I looked over at him still sleeping. I raised my hand again, but his hand quickly sliced through the air and caught mine. His grip was tight.

“Don't,” he said and opened his eyes. I laughed so hard, pulling out of his grip, turning on my back. Dante sat up, rubbing his eyes with a smile on his face. He looked out of the window to the dark sky. “What time is it?”

“After eight. We missed dinner. We should order pizza.”

He sighed. “I can't. I gotta get home.”

He suddenly seemed distant, distracted. He quickly jumped out of bed and walked over to the door, putting his shoes on.

“Okay. How about tomorrow?” I asked, turning on my side and placing a hand under my head for support.

He didn't look at me. He seemed to be avoiding eye contact. “I'm not coming over tomorrow.”

“The next day?” I frowned. Since when did Dante not come over?

“Maybe,” he said, and left the room, shutting the door behind him. I didn't even get a good-bye. That was strange even for him. I lay back on my back, wondering what I could've done to chase him away like that.