Being Davanté

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Being Davanté Page 7

by Michelle St. Claire

Davanté stood facing a blank canvas. He had arranged the paints on his palate and had mounted his sketch book next to the canvas, opened to the rose image. Before he could get lost in his work, he suddenly felt his pocket buzzing. He slid out his smartphone and saw that Lionel was calling.

  “Hey man,” answered Davanté.

  “Hey, what are you up to?” asked Lionel.

  “I'm working on my project,” replied Davanté.

  “Oh, cool. Listen, my dad said he'll take us tonight. We can pick up Vanessa,” said Lionel.

  Davanté suddenly realized that he had forgotten all about Clarence's show.

  “Oh, yeah. Sure. What time again?” he said.

  “We'll come at seven,” said Lionel.

  “Okay, I'll be ready,” said Davanté.

  “Alright, see ya man,” said Lionel.

  “See ya,” said Davanté before hanging up.

  In truth, Davanté did not care to see Clarence. He had been going along with his attempt to make amends. Yet he knew that Clarence just wanted to get closer to him and forge a father-son relationship.

  Now that his mood changed, Davanté had lost all creative momentum. He started with a pencil sketch of the rose's outline, stretching his arm out as he drew long continuous lines.

  He wanted the rose to be drawn with one line at one beginning to one end point, but something was off. In frustration, Davanté threw his pencil down and stormed out of his room.

  “What's wrong with you?” asked Aunt Thelma as he plopped down angrily on the couch.

  “Nothing,” he mumbled under his breath.

  Davanté found the remote control and turned on the television. Mindlessly, he switched channels and stared at the screen. After several minutes, he drifted into a light slumber.

  In his sleep, he saw his mother. She wore a yellow dress with a matching yellow hat. Her skin glowed with perfect health. Her eyes grew bright when she saw Davanté. He hugged her and detected her lemony scented body splash she always wore.

  Davanté saw other people behind her, all unrecognizable. He saw old people and young people. They embraced him with loving glances and warm hugs.

  Although his mother never spoke, he could feel her talking to his heart. She directed him to a table that was lined with hot food that looked delicious and enticing.

  Davanté began to eat and laugh with the others around him. His mother stayed by his side the entire time. She kept her eyes fixed on him. She was free. She was happy. She was home.

  “Vanté!” yelled Aunt Thelma.

  Davanté awoke to Aunt Thelma standing over him. Her large frame resembled a quarterback ready to tackle.

  “I said, get up!” she barked.

  Davanté sat up. “How long was I asleep?” he asked her.

  “You were out for almost two hours. Now, it's almost six thirty and the Kettles will be here soon. Go on now!” Aunt Thelma ordered.

  Davanté stood up and stretched. He walked back to his room and sat on the bed. His mind was still on his mother. It all seemed so real. He could still feel her arms around him.

  The sudden buzzing of his smartphone shook him from his thoughts. It was Vanessa.

  “I can't wait to see you!” Vanessa said after he answered.

  “You, too. What are you wearing?” he asked her.

  “Oh, you'll just have to wait and see,” she said.

  Davanté looked at his watch. He had less than thirty minutes to get ready.

  “Nessa, I gotta go. I'll see you soon,” he said hurriedly.

  “Okaaaay!” sang Vanessa.

 

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