“Long enough.” His jaw tightened at the pain-staking words. “In fact, it’s been quite some time now.”
But, there was a perfectly good reason for that, and it was one that all of them realized.
His encounters with his estranged mother were emotionally draining, and they typically resulted into screaming matches. Accusations and hurtful words were always slung, and their visits would result to a short bitter end.
So, he’d reached a painful conclusion.
Interacting with one another basically got them nowhere. Truth was, he could barely look at her; for when he did, he was constantly reminded that he was her failure---a failure that she didn’t want and had thrown away. So, he’d adopted the ‘less is best’ strategy and ensured that their interactions were few and far between.
But, was he that callous?
So callous that he couldn’t see the tell-tale signs of a dying soul?
“After our last meeting, I thought it best that we kept our distance.” He frowned. “Now, looking back, her behavior makes sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“She just seemed more desperate than usual, and she was making demands that I wasn’t ready for.” He stiffened further against the surging guilt. “Of course, my natural instinct was to rebel against anything that she wanted.”
“Isn’t it funny? When we look back at the past, hindsight is always a perfectly zeroed-in 20/20. But, as the saying goes, we can’t change what’s happened. The past is just that---the past. There’s only one thing left to do and that’s to move forward.” His mouth turned up in a melancholy smile. “However, it doesn’t cause the scars or puckered wounds to stop bleeding.”
He fell silent.
That was one truth.
In fact, his emotional wounds had never stopped hemorrhaging.
“When we talked last, it may have sounded that I was disregarding our family’s tumultuous history,” Parker droned on, settling into a more comfortable position in the chair. “But, I can assure you that I wasn’t. It’s just that I’ve been so consumed with my sister’s impending death---”
He stiffened. “Can we not use that word?”
“It sounds rather frightening and final, doesn’t it? Believe me. The term doesn’t sit well with me either. Yet, the awful truth still stands as it is.” Parker released a frustrated breath. “I need an idea of what you plan to do. If you’re not interested in spending time with Josephine, I’ll go ahead and break the horrible news to her now. There’s no sense in prolonging---”
“Arrange the meeting,” he quipped tightly, crossing his arms. “I’ll talk with Josephine and do whatever I can to help with the situation.”
“Very well, then,” Parker murmured, sounding somewhat choked up. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
As he stood, his nod was stiff. “Call me once you have the details. You already have my number.”
“Only your, uh,” Parker stammered, clearing his throat uncomfortably, and his face colored a bright red. “…business number.” But, as he took in his unreadable expression, he whipped out his cell phone. “If you give me a different number, I can add it to my contacts.”
Giving a subtle nod, his face tightened. “Of course. The number is (601) 672-8897.”
“And you already have mine,” Parker said with the dismissive wave of his hand. As he stood, his face was etched with discomfort. “Maybe now you’ll be more inclined to contact me. After I talk with Josephine, I’ll be in touch. Then, we’ll discuss the meeting time and location.”
He tensed further. “Very well, I’ll be awaiting your call.”
Without saying a further word, he strode from the small conferencing area and headed for the door.
“Christopher, wait.”
Stopping mid-stride, he turned and faced him, and he was hardly prepared for the image of the beaten-down man across the room. His estranged uncle wept freely, and he sensed his gratitude in rippling waves. Somehow, he managed the single word. “What?”
“Thank you,” Parker murmured tearfully, wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hand. “We’re undeserving of your selfless gesture, and yet, here you are putting our needs before your own. It only proves the kind of man that you really are. Don’t you think it’s high time that you embrace him?”
As the elevator descended seconds later, he mulled that very question: just who was he?
Chapter 15
A half-hour later, the heavy thoughts still weighted his mind like crushing bricks. Shifting into higher gear, he revved up the Viper and sped down the interstate. But, as fast he drove, he couldn’t outrun the emotional demons that were chasing him.
The early dusk had fallen.
After turning onto 13th Noble Street, a few minutes past after taking the exit, he decelerated the vehicle and maneuvered it along the narrow street. Then, taking a sharp right, he landed near his destination, and his already tumultuous emotions were further overwhelmed.
Drake’s Run…
His childhood neighborhood…
The very place that’d made and broke him a thousand times over…
The Mama and Pop Diner was bustling with activity even after all of these years, although its window sign was badly faded and hardly decipherable. Still, though, through the window, patrons could be seen sitting on the bar stools dining on ice cream or some sugary treat. A liquor store stood alongside it, and there were a few people milling about, albeit gossiping or sharing some tale. As he crept past the dark alleyways, he noticed a small crowd of two or three milling about, undoubtedly cooking up some unsavory deal or another.
Slowing, he turned onto the street that led to the residential area. Several houses abounded along the streets, most of them dilapidated and in dire need of roofs, siding, etc. Several hundred feet away, the government projects were undergoing renovations, he noted, creeping along the narrow streets at 15 mph, just enough for the pack of teenage boys to cross the street.
There were about 12 of them, ranging from the ages of 15-18, and they were of different creeds and races. African-American, Caucasian, Latino, Asian, or mixed heritage…They were loud and boisterous, exchanging playful insults and jabbing each other with jokes, he mulled with a smile tinged with both sadness and humor.
A wave of nostalgia hit him.
At one point and time, he’d been like them. Wandering aimlessly along the streets and neighborhood trying to find someplace to belong or someone to belong…Instead, they’d find trouble or trouble would be waiting.
In a sense, that still held true for him now.
Wasn’t he still searching for something or someone to love---for someone to love him?
At the end of the street, Drake’s Missionary Baptist Church stood in all its regal glory, complete with a white steeple and gray bricks. Directly across the street from it was the Stedman Outreach Community Center.
Stedman Outreach was exactly the place that he wanted and needed right now.
Ten minutes later, he was taking the steps into the large community center. As soon as he entered the gymnasium area, he was swamped by the sound of bouncing basketballs, swishing hoops, and chatter. In fact, the teens that he’d seen a few minutes ago occupied the basketball court on the far end. On other parts of the court, volleyball and more basketball games ensued.
He veered towards the area that housed the center’s main offices. The hallway was dim, and that was unsurprising, he frowned, eyeing the swinging light with the naked wiring overhead. It was fortunate that lighting was even possible.
After passing the fourth door, he slowed as he reached the main area. He paused just outside the manager’s door and eyed the sixty-one year old African-American woman through the square-paned glass window. Even now, she maintained a model-like stature and was extremely attractive. But, she’d never flaunted her beauty like most. Like always, since he’d been a troubled teen, she was dressed comfortably in a t-shirt and jeans. Her gray-tinged hair was pulled back in its usual bun, and onl
y gloss tinged her lips.
As he knocked, a real smile curled his lips.
“Didn’t I tell you boys that I was busy?” the woman harrumphed loudly enough to be heard through the closed door, and she didn’t bother to look up. Still, though, an affectionate undertone laced her words. Apparently, she was still dishing out her brand of tough love in spades. “Now what did I tell you about disturbing me when I’m trying to do paperwork? I am not to be bothered! Get your behineys away from my door and respect my space.”
Grinning, he pushed the door open anyway, only to find the counselor scowling over the mound of paperwork on the desk.
“You’re really testing my patience right now.” Still, not looking up, she shooed him away with the wave of her hand. “I asked you to give me time to work, but here you are. It’s high time that somebody teach you some damn manners and respect---”
“What’s up with the foul language?” he teased with a wolfish grin smile, and his large body framed the open doorway. “You know how impressionable I am. As a matter of fact, I think that you’re the blame for my overuse of the F-bomb.”
She looked up from the paperwork with surprise. A bright smile lit her face as she stood up hurriedly and moved from behind the desk. Her brown eyes crinkled with a warm welcome. “Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Christopher Alexander is that you?”
He winked. “Yes, ma’am, in the flesh.”
“What you doing hovering at the door like that for? You know better than that. Come here, honey, and give me hug,” Ms. Jess chastised affectionately before enveloping him in a big hug. “You’ve been a stranger. I haven’t seen you in what, 2 or 3 years? That’s way too long.” After releasing him, she patted his back before gesturing him towards the empty seat before the desk. “Have a seat. Tell me what’s going on with you. Give me some good news.”
“Things are okay.” He settled in the chair. “I can’t say that I have the right to complain about anything.”
Well, that wasn’t necessarily true.
“I just can’t get over what a handsome man you’ve become. But, I’m not surprised at all. You were always a cute kid,” the counselor murmured with motherly-like affection. “I’m sure that you have more than a few share of admirers. Or maybe there’s a special lady in your life. Wife? Kids?”
There was one particular woman that had him completely tied in knots. But, a woman like her was out of his league.
As for a wife or kids, those things weren’t even remotely possible, considering who and what he was: damaged goods. He shook his head abruptly. “No wife or kids.”
“Hmmm….really?” Leaning back in the chair, she eyed him with a probing look. “By your expression, I can sense that you’re rather uncomfortable with that question. Why is that?”
Damn, she’d always able to read him like a book. From the very first moment when he’d stepped into the center years ago, she’d pegged him to the board instantly.
Looking away, he shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
“You’re lying,” Ms. Jess said knowingly and worry filled her kind brown eyes. “It’s obvious that you’re under a lot of pressure. The question is: when will you finally break.” She surveyed him with a long look. “How long have you known me, Christopher?”
“A lifetime.” Tensing, he met her gaze. “Since my first probation officer made me do time here.”
“Do time?” Ms. Jess scoffed with a lifted brow. “No, that’s hardly the case. This place was your refuge, one where you were able to actively vent your anger and frustration in a more productive way. How many times did you use those basketball courts out there to beat those very things down into the ground?”
Suddenly, it seemed as if he was the central player in some ill-conceived drama. But, he was hardly ready for the spotlight. Finally, he said, “More times than I can count. If I sounded ungrateful about it---”
She waved a hand, dismissing his comment. “I know that you didn’t mean to.” Then, she flicked a finger along her brow before propping both hands on the desk. “I’d love to think that you were overcome with nostalgia and just wanted to see me. But, I know better than that. Why don’t we cut through the chase and you tell me why you’re really here.”
A hollow silence ensued.
Still, the counselor was patient throughout it as she watched him. At the same time, he felt transplanted in both the past and present. Just how many of his secrets had been revealed in this very room was telling.
“My past and present are colliding, and I’m taking a direct hit.”
Ms. Jess studied him carefully across the desk. “How so?”
“It’s Jospehine.” He stopped speaking momentarily, for even now, it was impossible to say the words. “The doctors have given her 9 months to live.”
“God, have mercy on her soul,” Ms. Jess murmured, and sympathy played in her dark brown eyes. “Exactly what is her condition?”
“Lymphoma. Stage 3. At this point, the specialists are working to ease her pain and symptoms. There’s not much left that they can do.”
Sighing, Ms. Jess watched him closely. “I’m sorry, Christopher. Despite the issues that you’ve had with her, I’m certain that this news is very troubling. No wonder you’re all out of sorts. Something such as this is hard to deal with alone. Is there anything that I can do to help?”
“Thanks for the kind offer. But, I’m going to have to manage this on my own.” But, could he? Instead of uttering that very question, he said, “Josephine has made a dying request.”
“What does she want?”
“She wants me to spend quality time with her.” The silent noise roared in his ears, and he couldn’t block out the sound. “And I said yes.”
“Your confliction is more than obvious.” Eyeing him with a speculative gleam, Ms. Jess reared forward in the chair. “Are you regretting this decision? I’m certain that it wasn’t easy to make.”
“No, it wasn’t,” he sighed hard, closing his eyes. “I feel like some part of me hates her while the other side of me loves her at the same time.”
“Sounds like your heart and mind are in an epic struggle. But, the ultimate battle is between the man and the lost little boy that still exists inside of him.”
Of course, she was right.
“After everything that she’s done to me, why is it that I still want to be around her?” His wounded gaze met hers. “That fact only makes me fucking insane.”
“No---not insane. Instead, it makes you incredibly human. Let’s call it as it really is, Chris. There’s no skirting the issue here. Your mother is dying, and it’s only natural that you want to spend her last dying days with her. If you didn’t, that part would actually scare me.” She sighed. “Yes, a lot of shit has happened. But, that’s beside the point. By no means am I justifying Josephine’s actions,” she hedged cautiously. “But, situations aren’t always as black and white as they seem.”
The same, tiring, and irrational anger tickled his conscience. Of course, it was black and white. Exactly what justification could she have for giving away her own kid?
His wayward thoughts caught up with her words again, and he fought against his agitation.
“Listen to me, Christopher.” Her brown eyes softened further. “It’s okay to embrace the hurt and grieve. You owe yourself that.”
The knot inside his chest tightened.
He fought against the warring emotions.
“Maybe,” he quipped tightly, blinking at the stinging tears in his eyes, and he was angered at himself for revealing his weakness. “Still, though, it doesn’t give me the right to turn my back on the people who have been there for me.”
“Grieving for your mother doesn’t mean that you’re betraying the other people in your life. You’re not doing that at all.” The counselor’s tension was easily noticeable. “I know what this is about. You’re referring to Crystal, aren’t you?”
“Of course, I am,” he muttered with a tightened jaw. “She found me and took me in when I had
no other place to go. Hell, she’s far from perfect. But, she fed me, gave me a warm place to sleep---”
“She’s hardly a candidate for martyrdom,” she said dryly, breaking into his conversation abruptly, and frowned. “There’s no disputing some of your claims. But, let’s look at the facts. Most of the time, your childhood with her wasn’t a good experience. We also can’t overlook or downplay the things that Crystal shouldn’t have done.” Pursing her lips, the counselor fought to hide her disapproval, but failed. “Crystal introduced you to a dark, sordid world that’s unfitting for a child. Drugs, prostitution, thievery…at a tender young age, you were introduced to that. Forgive my next words. But, that’s why your thoughts and actions are partially and morally bankrupt in a sense. Your current lifestyle is a direct reflection of your upbringing.”
The shame filled him.
Bingo!
She was spot on again.
Crystal had attempted to mold him in her image. From the onset, he’d been lost and emotionally broken. If anything, she’d been upfront with him from the beginning, letting him know his early beginnings and how she’d found him wrapped in a blanket in a dingy bathroom at a gas station. But, she’d taken him in and tried to play ‘mother’ to him in the only way that she knew how.
Of course, Crystal had played on his conscience throughout the years, guilt-ridden him into things that deep down he knew were wrong. Even now, he found it difficult to break the emotional bind that she had around him.
While Drake’s Run had been both his heaven and hell, he’d made it somehow.
“With all due respect, Ms. Jess, I know that you don’t approve of Crystal. But, she---”
“You’re damned right, I don’t,” she said firmly, rising forward in the chair. “Do you think that your life is the only one that she’s ruined? She’s been on a fast trip to hell her whole life, and she’s taking as many with her as she can! Why do you think this place is so filled? She plays emotional games with the lost, lonely, needy, and broken. I’ve seen the fruits of her labor every time some drugged up or abused kid stumbles into this place.” She slapped the desk hard with her hand. “So, no, she won’t get a medal from me. As long as I’m breathing, I’ll fight her kind of injustice.”
Reign on Me Page 19
