The Dawn of Nia

by Lauren Cherelle

  “She became their good-White-folk poster child until she hooked up with the wrong man and tried to silence her demons with prescription narcotics. When she was clean, she worked.

  “Anyway, to make a long story short, my folks stayed connected with the Carters. My dad was a mischievous, poor mixed boy with a trashy mother. So they let him work odd jobs after school. But all hell broke lose when he became sweet on Pat and got her pregnant. I guess your ‘Mama C’ was too conservative to let Pat have an abortion. A few years ago, my dad drank too much whiskey and told me that they paid him and my grandmother to take me from the hospital and disappear. He said Cora wouldn’t touch me. That’s why they left Memphis and moved back to Mississippi.” She exhales. “He didn’t mean any harm, but I wish he would’ve kept that information private. That’s all I really know about what happened. The rest is bad history.”

  I gently traced her face. “There’s nothing bad about you.”

  She smiled and pulled me closer. Her lips ushered a passionate night of intimacy.

  Today, it will be satisfying to pair a face with James Ross; the young man Pat told me she once loved but could never marry.

  ~ * ~

  Deidra exits the interstate onto a highway that leads into the belly of the Deep South. The two-lane stretch cuts through acres of green crops that transition to The Magnolia State’s legacy. Long rows of white cotton bolls cover the land as far as my eyes can see. About four miles into the fluffy sea, the fields recede to grassy plains. As we approach the town, a short wooden sign welcomes us to a turn of the twentieth-century municipality with a whopping population of 1,202 people.

  Deidra slows the car and turns onto a road leading to civilization. We pass a high school with a colossal gymnasium, a dollar store, and a four-pump gas station. She turns left at the gas station and heads down Main Street. The deserted business district showcases old storefronts suitable for the set of a low-budget zombie movie. At the four-way stop, we turn right onto a residential street lined with poverty. Shotgun houses and trailers rest on square plots and cylinder block foundations. Senior citizens relax under porches and shade trees. They wave as we drive by. The street dead-ends into a church parking lot. She drives through the lot and veers into the grass, following tire tracks that lead to a house in the distance. She pulls into a gravel driveway and parks beside a late-model Cadillac. The luxury sedan looks odd beside a decrepit shack.

  We get out and step onto a porch adorned with chipped blue paint and dozens of cigarette butts. Seconds after Deidra knocks, her father unlatches the screen door. He greets me and holds the faded door open as we enter a room with a partial ceiling and mismatched furnishings. Molded dry wall, cigarette smoke, and natural gas irritate my nose as we cross linoleum that squeaks and slopes along the interior.

  Her father grabs a newspaper off the couch and says, “Have a seat.”

  I sit with Deidra on my left, trying my best to avoid the stain on my right, also trying my best not to stare at the roach creeping up the dusty wall behind her father’s head. He sits in the recliner and reduces the volume on the tube television set so he can talk with less distraction.

  I sit small, keeping an eye on the surroundings, particularly my feet, barely listening to their conversation, wondering how long this visit will last.

  “Where’s Nana?”

  “Who knows?” he replies.

  “What woman is sending you flowers?”

  I’ve been so focused on the critter invasion that I didn’t notice the bouquet of pink roses and lilies on the end table beside Deidra.

  “My women know better than to be sending me flowers. They for you.”

  “You wait until I’m thirty-three to acknowledge my birthday with a gift?”

  He winks at me as Deidra pulls the enclosure card from the arrangement.

  With my attention no longer divided, I notice his curly hair and pale skin. He’s light, bright, and damn-near white as some folks say. Remnants of handsome youthfulness linger in his face. And despite missing a great deal of teeth, he enunciates well.

  Whatever Deidra read on the card erases her surprise. She turns it face down and tucks it in her purse. She changes the topic of conversation and I go on watch again.

  “Don’t mind the house,” he says, catching me staring at the rat droppings in the corner. My eyes move from the poop to him. “Ain’t nothin’ but a mirage. This a kingdom.”

  I nod and grin to mask my discomfort. I glance at the TV show and ask, “Are you a fan of reality court shows?”

  “Faithful,” he says and tells me all about the judges on the TV circuit. “They got some new blood comin’ up, but one thang ain’t changed. All the black judges got white bailiffs, and all the white judges got black ones. Only on TV. That shit don’t happen in M’ssippi… Y’all want something to eat? Got some neck bones and greens.”

  “Jimmy,” Deidra says. “We didn’t drive down here to play sleep-and-eat with you.”

  He laughs and stands from the recliner. His faded shirt and worn jeans don’t match his brand new sneakers.

  As soon as he exits the room, I whisper, “Does he live here? This place is inhabitable.”

  “Just enough to claim residence.”

  “And what did he mean by kingdom?”

  “He meant the land. It’s worth thousands.”

  “Millions!” her dad says.

  I close my mouth and she rolls her eyes in disagreement.

  Her father returns with a plate and explains to me, “A Jap’nese corporation wanna build a distribution center right here. Me and Mama inherited this land and they can have it for a million a acre… This good.” He points to the food with his fork. “Y’all sure y’all don’t want none?”

  “No, thanks,” I say.

  “You know I don’t eat meat,” Deidra replies.

  He swallows a bite. “Ever since yo’ Mama died, you been on a health kick.”

  “I have to be. I’m trying to live way past forty-eight.”

  I look at her, astonished that her “Mama” is the basis of her restricted diet.

  “Then stop smokin’,” he says. He looks at me. “All them cigarettes on the porch ain’t mine.” His eyes return to her. “If you got cancer in yo’ genes, you don’t need nothin’ flarin’ it up.”

  I agree. “Tell her again.”

  “Time to go,” Deidra says, rising to her feet. “I don’t need my daddy and my woman tag-teaming me.”

  I say goodbye and follow her out the door. “What about the flowers?”

  “Leave them. They’re the nicest thing in that house now that we’re gone.”

  We go home and opt for a lazy day, lounging in socks and pajama pants. Bras, but no pajama tops. We nap for hours and order food delivery. With the exception of birthday wishes received by texts and phone calls, this is an ordinary day for Deidra. One birthday wish, however, sticks out like a sore thumb. It isn’t the hour-long conversation with her daughter or the quick chats with her sister or friends. It’s the card in her purse. The card has pestered my curiosity since we left Mississippi.

  I wait until nightfall when Deidra showers to sneak into her purse. I pull the card from the side of her wallet. I can’t believe what this shit says. I miss you like crazy. Happy Birthday. The card is signed with a single letter: E.

  I put the card back the way I found it and return to the bedroom as if I never left.

  Seconds after I sit on the bed, Deidra comes out the bathroom wearing an untied robe. She sits in my lap, her warmth and sweet-smelling skin toying with my senses. She caresses my arm and waist, expecting her sensual touch to arouse me to the point that I’ll touch her in return. Instead, I push her thighs from my lap to the comforter.

  “I thought you told him that you’re in a relationship.”

  She closes her robe and stares into my eyes to access my thoughts. “I did. The flowers are meaningless.”

  “Nothing’s meaningless about a man who’s still vying for his wife’s affection.�
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  I don’t know him or what he’s capable of doing. My only means of protection is the distance that separates us. We don’t talk about her husband. The only time he’s somewhat mentioned these days are during conversations about Shannon. And those mentions are rare. He doesn’t exist in our world, but I need clarification. “How far would he go for you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Her answer seems more safe than honest.

  “I know you’re stalling on a divorce because of Shannon,” I say, “but you need to set the record straight with him. This is my territory.”

  ~ * ~

  I wake up early to get dressed for church because I promised to join Mama for Friends and Family Day. Deidra is awake but lying in bed. We’re both surprised when her phone rings because no one ever calls this early on Sunday. The call must be important. I hope nothing’s wrong with Shannon.

  When Deidra rolls her eyes, I know the call isn’t urgent. She sighs out of frustration with the caller. She presses a button to lower the volume and conceal the caller’s identity, but it’s too late. The tenor voice is a dead giveaway. Less than twenty-four hours have transpired since she received his flowers of yearning, and now he’s following up with a phone call. Any other time he just texts.

  Deidra exchanges pleasantries. “Yes… I’m fine… You?”

  I open my jewelry box for a pair of earrings, but I keep my eyes on her through the dresser mirror. I should’ve known this would happen. After all, it’s their anniversary. Makes me wonder whether he called last year while we were in Atlanta. Did she have flowers in Mississippi when we returned from that trip? Whatever the case, too much time has passed. He doesn’t care about boundaries. Deidra isn’t supposed to be here with me.

  “Eric, what do you want? This better be about Shannon.” They go back and forth, her voice growing louder with each passing second. “What did you just say to me?” She sits up and cuts him off. “Don’t ever threaten me!”

  He yells in response.

  “And what the hell are you going to do when you get here?” she fires back. “Shoot her?”

  He yells again.

  “No,” she argues. “Keep your ass in Virginia and take care of Shannon. She’s your priority. She’ll be moving here in three weeks, and then I’m absolutely done with you.”

  She ends the call and walks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind herself. I wish she had de-escalated the heated exchange before hanging up on him. The last thing I need is for her fuming husband to come to Tennessee to snatch her up, harming me in the process.

  I place the backs on my earrings and knock on the bathroom door. She opens and says, “You’re leaving?” Her voice and face are relaxed, as if the argument didn’t happen.

  “Do I need to flee the country?”

  She smiles to turn off my alarm. “He’s all bark, no bite. You don’t have anything to worry about, baby.”

  Another safe answer.

  She comes out the bathroom and straightens the collar of my suit jacket. I haven’t been to church in nearly a year. This will be the opportune visit to pray for safety.

  37

  AROUND 8:00, I awake and drag my feet downstairs, hoping Deidra has prepared breakfast as she does most Saturday mornings. I’m sleepy and hungry, but no tasty aromas waft from the kitchen. She quickly hugs me and goes back to the foyer. I curl on the couch to watch her lift and stoop and move about preparing for move-in day. She’s been antsy all week, bursting with joy and anticipation of Shannon’s arrival. She stacks a few boxes and organizes several bags of groceries.

  “How do I look?” she asks.

  I inspect her from head to toe. This is my first time seeing her in a tee, boot-cut jeans, and baseball cap. She never dresses this casually.

  “I can’t go to campus looking like Shannon’s friend. I’m going for a cute big sister look.” She looks at me for a response.

  “You landed on soccer mom.”

  She smirks and turns her attention to the task at hand.

  I’m happy for Deidra. She’s ecstatic about Shannon living in her proximity again. No more texting or phone and video calling to keep them connected. They’ll have the luxury of seeing each other face to face. “What are you gonna do when Shannon is too busy for you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s a freshman. She’ll have a demanding social life. Parties, friends, step shows, events, organizations, maybe a campus job. She’s moving to a lively city. She’ll find something to do every weekend.”

  Deidra empties her hands of canned vegetables and squints at me. She’s open to welcoming Shannon into adulthood, but she isn’t prepared for the realities of college. Mommy time will be the last thing on Shannon’s mind.

  “Your baby will be somebody else’s baby by the end of next month,” I add.

  She picks up a roll of paper towels and throws it at me.

  After I hurl the roll back, Deidra goes into the kitchen to raid the refrigerator and cabinets for more groceries. She’s already confiscated all four of the mini orange juices I purchased two days ago, in addition to my unopened bag of black bean tortilla chips. I don’t mind though. Her move-in day jitters amuse me.

  I watch Deidra stuff more of our food into grocery bags. She’s completely disregarding Shannon’s mandatory meal plan. My mother didn’t put forth half of this effort when I went to college. She drove me to the dorm and left within the hour. I smile when Deidra unpacks the groceries, rearranging the food until each bag stands neatly upright.

  “Do you really think she’ll be too busy for me?” she asks, filling the last bag.

  From what I was told, Deidra barely graduated from high school, and college wasn’t an option. Her focus was marriage and motherhood. A Different World shaped her ideas about collegiate life. Sadly, majority of her paternal family hasn’t accomplished anything beyond a low-paying job or felony. This is new to her and she trusts my first-hand experience. “She’s got a place to live, an arsenal of food, and a shit-load of options to keep her occupied every day.”

  Deidra leaves the foyer and joins me on the couch, resting her head on my shoulder.

  “I didn’t mean to dampen your spirits.”

  She accepts a consoling kiss on the forehead and takes my hand. “It’ll wear off,” she says.

  And it does. As soon as her phone rings, she leaves the comfort of my shoulder and reverts to move-in mode. From the call I can tell that Shannon has reached the metro area. Soon, Deidra will remove dorm room essentials from the foyer, ushering her daughter to the starting line of a new journey.

  When Shannon steps inside, her mom gives her a moment to chat and admire her new belongings before handing her an item to carry— starting with the cool ass storage cubby I purchased as a graduation present. I want to take things outside, too, but I park myself on the loveseat to prevent crossing paths with Shannon’s dad. I see him through the blinds leaning against his truck, waiting for something to load. For Shannon’s sake, I will avoid him.

  I really didn’t want him to come by here. Deidra has coached and coaxed me all week in preparation of his arrival. “He’s going to swing by here and pick up Shannon’s stuff. You don’t have to come out and he won’t come in.” And yesterday, “I won’t have time to talk to him. As soon as Shannon’s unpacked, we’re parting ways.” She actually prefers that I participate. She talked for days about how she wanted the weekend to unfold: father, mother, and mother’s lover happily launching daughter together.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come to campus after orientation?” Deidra asks once the foyer is clear.

  I’m fond of Shannon and appreciate Deidra’s desire to have me by her side, but I’m not open to being around her husband— no matter how estranged they are. I walk to the door, offering a hug before saying, “You can tell me all about it later.”

  She accepts my decision and leaves.

  I don’t look forward to spending the day at home by myself so I call Tasha to hang out
. She’s single, bored, and free— three reasons to join me for retail therapy. I pick her up and we head to the mall to curb my craving for China Express. Tasha craves eye candy.

  “This is the best time to go to the mall,” she says. “Mature women with jobs shop early.”

  38

  TASHA LEADS THE WAY, skipping the stores with low-price points, dipping into the ones with clothing and accessories for professional women. I follow her, combing through racks for blouses and slacks that catch my eye. She waits while I purchase a low-cut top that will nicely accentuate Deidra’s cleavage. Then off we go to Victoria’s Secret. We haven’t even crossed the threshold when Tasha spots a cutie checking out panties. She goes inside and I scan the walkway for the nearest bench.

  I sit beside a senior citizen reading the city newspaper and text Deidra for an update. Still at orientation she replies. She wants to skip the activities and presentations and get on to dorm room decorating. I text back Patience baby patience.

  Tasha sought teddies and ladies for a shorter period than expected. Either something went really right or really wrong. I hand over her shopping bags and ask, “What’s the verdict?”

  “I’ll call her, but I’m tired of closeted bitches. I mean damn, am I not charming?”

  “Very,” I answer, hoping we’re finally making our way to the food court. I can’t imagine resorting to prowling the mall for potential dating material. “Maybe you’re trying too hard. Some things should happen naturally.”

  She stops walking and glares at me. “You ain’t never had to find somebody to date. You just get the girl who’s already connected to you. We all can’t find love at a damn funeral.”

  “Actually, it was Chuck E. Cheese’s.”

  “Who cares?”

  I sympathize with her frustrations. She has explored traditional courting, internet hookups, and blind dating. Flawless makeup, fashionable outfits, and dating decorum pan out to nothing more than one-night stands or texting buddies. And here I am in a solid relationship with a married woman while Tasha can’t land anyone gay or single.