Being Davanté

by Michelle St. Claire

Davanté knew he should not have come, but he secretly feared what Vanessa would say about him in his absence. He had lied to Aunt Thelma and told her that he was going to Lionel's house. In truth, he did go to Lionel's house, but only to pick him up on the way to Vanessa's.

  Vanessa's house was beautiful. It was the picturesque image of a middle class life. A nice size screened-in pool graced their backyard. They had hardwood floors and more bedrooms than Davanté could count.

  Her parents seemed completely aloof. They talked about Vanessa as if she was the perfect princess. They successfully pretended not to know about Vanessa's recent seductive attempts on Davanté.

  “Oh, I'm so glad you can make it. Vanessa told me so much about you two! Come, let me get you guys a plate,” said Vanessa's mother.

  She led them to a large buffet table filled with cold and hot food. The drinks were arranged perfectly. The desserts and birthday cake sat in the middle.

  “Here you go. Now, go on. I think Vanessa is outside by the pool. That's where the other kids are. Don't be shy! Go ahead!” encouraged Vanessa's mother.

  Lionel and Davanté wordlessly took their plates and walked towards the patio. They passed through a small crowd of nicely dressed people who smiled at them. Davanté could not determine if they were relatives or friends.

  “Look, it’s my boo!” crooned Vanessa upon seeing Davanté.

  She skipped towards him and planted an obvious kiss on his cheek. Davanté blushed and slightly pulled away.

  “Aw, he's shy!” said Vanessa.

  She was putting on a show. Her friends, some of whom Davanté recognized, watched in earnest as Vanessa paraded Davanté around. She introduced him to her aunts, uncles, siblings and cousins. She made sure to publicly display him as her boyfriend.

  “Nessa, is all this necessary?” whispered Davanté.

  She had finished making her rounds with Davanté and returned back to the patio.

  “Of course. Why? You don't want people to know that you're my man?” asked Vanessa.

  “I don't know. It just seems like you were making a big deal out of things. These people don't know me,” said Davanté.

  “They do now,” said Vanessa.

  Davanté could see that Lionel had found Maxine. The two had cornered themselves on the patio and were talking and giggling sweetly.

  “Look, just be real, okay? I'm tired of your antics,” said Davanté.

  Before Vanessa could respond, Vanessa's mother shouted to the guests, “Okay, let's all sing happy birthday and cut the cake!” she said.

  Vanessa's cousin stood at the head of the table bearing her birthday cake. All the guests surrounded her and sung the usual happy birthday song. Lionel broke away from Maxine and stood next to Davanté.

  “Thanks for inviting me, man,” whispered Lionel.

  “Yeah,” said Davanté.

  “What's up with you? You seem kind of out of it,” asked Lionel.

  “Nothin'. I'm just tired,” said Davanté.

  “Oh. Well maybe some cake will cheer you up,” said Lionel.

  “Naw. I think I'm gonna leave after they pass out the cake. You could stay if you want to,” said Davanté.

  “Okay. I might stay a little bit with Maxine,” said Lionel.

  “Fine,” said Davanté.

  Vanessa's mother helped the birthday girl slice the cake into small pieces. Other women gathered around and helped to pass out the cake to the guests.

  “Wait, Lionel, I gotta ask you something,” said Davanté.

  “Yeah?” said Lionel.

  “Did you know about my father before I met him?” asked Davanté.

  “What? No,” said Lionel.

  “Then how did you know he was my father?” asked Davanté.

  “Cuz he looked just like you. Anyone could see that,” said Lionel.

  “Hm. It just seems weird that you figured he was my pops. He could've been my older brother or a cousin or something,” said Davanté.

  “Vanté, what are you getting' at? Why would I not tell you that I knew your father? That doesn't make any sense,” said Lionel.

  “No, what doesn't make sense is that your father knows more about my life than I do. What doesn't make sense is that everybody thinks it’s okay to lie to my face!” said Davanté.

  “Vanté, calm down, man. People are looking,” said Lionel.

  “Calm down? That's all you can say? Calm down? What else are you keepin' from me? So you knew your father had a piece of my mother, too? Huh? You've been lookin' down on me all this time?” asked Davanté.

  Lionel did not respond. He was shocked into silence. He did not know what Davanté was talking about.

  “You ain't my friend! You ain't my friend anymore! Man, you're two-faced!” yelled Davanté.

  Vanessa attempted to caress his back in hopes of calming him down, but Davanté brushed her hand off.

  “Leave me alone!” he yelled.

  He stormed out of Vanessa's house in hot anger. He was beside himself. He did not know what came over him. Davanté felt like the walls were caving in around him. He could not breathe. He was sweating profusely.

  “Vanté, man, come on. What's going on?” called Lionel, who had run after him.

  Lionel stood next to him with a concerned look on his face. Davanté could tell that he really did not know about his father's relationship with his mother. Despite that, Davanté was not ready to quell his anger.

  “Li, I don't need you! Get outta my face!” he yelled.

  Lionel put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. But Davanté pushed past Lionel and ran down the block. It was late afternoon, the hottest time of the day. Sweat stung Davanté's eyes as he ran. He angrily peeled off his jacket while running.

  He ran with abandon. Davanté's long legs peeled down the roadside. He ran down blocks and through alleyways. He mindlessly splashed through the concrete puddles carelessly muddying his shoes and pants.

  Davanté's mother had always told him he should have been a track star. In middle school, she had come to all his track games. She had sat on the edge of the stadium seats and yelled out his name. She had been his number one fan.

  Davanté wondered why his mother had lied to him. He had dealt with so much of her pain and illness. He had seen things about his mother that no child should ever see.

  Yet, he could not understand why she could not tell him the truth. Davanté had never asked his mother how she got HIV. He figured it was something she contracted in her youth from some innocent circumstance. Never did he think she was a druggie.

  Tears streamed down his cheeks as he ran. He ran harder and faster. Davanté accidentally bumped into some people as he ran, but he did not stop.

  Why didn't she tell me? thought Davanté. He would not have loved her any less. He would not have rejected her. Davanté thought about his life. He thought about the times when relatives and family friends would stop talking when he came into the room. It seemed everybody knew that he was the son of a drug addict except him.

  Davanté made a sharp left turn. He suddenly realized he was running home. Not to Aunt Thelma's house, but to his mother's home. He did not stop until he arrived at the front porch.

  He sat there and cried. He pounded his fist on the porch steps as he thought of Mr. Kettles and his mother. He wailed as the image of his mother shooting drugs into her veins filled his mind.

  This was not fair, he thought. Why did I have to come into the world like this? Why did I have to have this kind of a family? Davanté lamented his existence. He began to wish that he was never born.

  Davanté did not realize the time. The sun begun to set on the horizon. His head ached badly, but he did not want to return to Aunt Thelma's house. Davanté wondered if he could just live alone in his mother's home. If anyone tried to deny him, Davanté decided he simply would not leave.

  Just then, he heard a low growling sound.
He looked up to see a small white dog with a pink collar standing at the foot of the porch steps. It was baring its small teeth at him.

  “Snowball! Come here!” A woman called for the dog, but it was transfixed on Davanté. Angrily, it growled at him again.

  “Snowball!” said the woman's voice.

  The woman walked fast towards Davanté's house. She crossed the empty street and entered in through the open gate. Davanté recognized her. It was Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “Oh! Davanté! I didn't know you lived here!” she said.

  She stood before him wearing white Capri shorts and a bright pink top. Her hair was pulled in a soft bun.

  “Yeah,” muttered Davanté.

  “Sorry about Snowball. He can be sweet when he wants to and mean when he wants to. Oh, this dog!” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  She bent down and clipped the leash onto Snowball's collar.

  “Is everything okay? You didn't come by this week. How's the project going?” she asked him.

  “What project?” asked Davanté.

  Mrs. Beauchmont frowned.

  “Davanté, what is it?” she asked in a low tone.

  Davanté remained silent. Mrs. Beauchmont slowly walked up the porch steps and sat down next to him.

  “Did you know that every human being in existence was made with a purpose?” she asked him.

  “What?” asked Davanté.

  “I said that you didn't make yourself. Did you know that? Did you make yourself?” asked Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “No,” said Davanté.

  “Who did?” asked Mrs. Beauchmont.

  Davanté was too tired to engage in philosophical talks. He wished Mrs. Beauchmont would just go away.

  “Isn't it illegal for the public school to talk about God?” asked Davanté.

  “The school cannot propose any religion, but we can certainly touch upon them. That's our function, to teach. And besides, I already know that you and I believe in the same God. I see you in service every Sunday,” said she said.

  Davanté shrugged his shoulders.

  “All I'm saying is that you are here for a purpose. Your job in life is to find out what it is and to do it,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “You make it sound so easy. Not everybody has it that easy, Mrs. Beauchmont,” said Davanté.

  “It's not easy. It's not supposed to be easy. That’s why it takes a lifetime just to complete the task,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “I don't really care to do all that,” said Davanté.

  “Yes, you do,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “You don't know me. You don't know my life,” said Davanté.

  “I know that you care about yourself. I know that you love. And I also know that you have a good sense of dignity,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “How do you know that?” asked Davanté.

  “I can tell,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “Are you a witch?” asked Davanté.

  Mrs. Beauchmont laughed. “So, that's what they're calling me! I thought it was much worse than that!” she chuckled.

  “Are you?” asked Davanté.

  Mrs. Beauchmont pulled something out of her pocket. She showed it to Davanté.

  “You see these? These are rosary beads. My mother was Catholic and she brought us up in the church. She taught me how to pray the rosary in good times and in bad. I think one day I was praying them in my office when some kids saw me. That's probably how the rumors started,” Mrs. Beauchmont explained.

  “Why were you praying?” asked Davanté.

  “Because I was having a bad day. In fact, I was having a bad year. My husband died. I was filled with grief. And I had lost direction in my life. I didn't know what to do next,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “You?” asked Davanté.

  This did not seem to fit with Mrs. Beauchmont. She always seemed happy and optimistic.

  “Yes, me! In fact, for a while, I wanted to join my husband in heaven. I loved him dearly. I couldn't see my life without him,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “How did you get over it?” asked Davanté.

  “Oh, I never did. I still want to be with him. But now I realize that he's with me in a different way. And when the day comes, I'll see him again. But first, I have to finish up my purpose here. I wasn't done yet,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  Davanté thought about what she said.

  “When my mom was alive,” he said. “I was pretty much her protector. At least, it felt like it. I felt like she depended on me.”

  “Well, she probably did. I remember Ms. Williams. I remember her very well,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “You knew my mother?” asked Davanté.

  “Yes. When I started working for the school district, she was just a small thing in middle school. Your mom was always sweet and kind,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “Well, that's not what other people say,” said Davanté.

  “She had her struggles. But look at you. Don't you have struggles, too?” asked Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “I guess,” said Davanté.

  “You know. The one thing I admired about your mother, even long before she became your mother, was her sensitivity. She was always aware of people's feelings,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “My mother?” asked Davanté.

  “Oh yes. That may be why she needed an escape. The realities of life can be too raw to bear sometimes,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “Mrs. Beauchmont, do you know what my mother was supposed to be? Was she supposed to be a druggie?” asked Davanté.

  “I don't know what she was supposed to be. But I do know that based on what we believe, no one is created to be destroyed. No one is created for bad. We were created for good. Of course your mother was not supposed to be a drug addict. And I think she realized it. She did quit,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “Yeah, but by then, it was too late,” said Davanté.

  “No, it wasn't. God gave her just enough time to raise you. And she did a fantastic job,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “Yeah, but she got AIDS,” said Davanté, his voice trembling.

  “Oh, Davanté. What little do you know! There are some hardships that we bring onto ourselves. There are some hardships that are not a result of our faults, but just something we have to overcome. Either way, as long as we stay faithful to God, He will stay faithful to us. Your mother suffered. Yes, she suffered for the wrong she did. But she learned better. She clung to God and He supported her. And through her, He raised you,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “I didn't see it like that,” said Davanté.

  “Then see it like that. She may have started out with much struggle, but she left a wonderful, clean, and perfect legacy behind. Was she a failure then?” asked Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “But I don't even know who I am, Mrs. Beauchmont! Everybody knows more about my life than me!” said Davanté.

  “How is that even possible? Do you know everything about me?” asked Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “No,” said Davanté.

  “Do you know everything about Lionel?” asked Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “No,” said Davanté.

  “Well, how is it that everybody knows everything about you?” asked Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “I don't know. It's just that everybody's got an opinion. They think I'm gonna repeat my parents' past. People think I'm doomed to fail,” said Davanté.

  “Well, I don't know anything about that. But do you know what I do when I feel caged in?” asked Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “Pray?” asked Davanté.

  Mrs. Beauchmont laughed.

  “Well, yes. I do that, too. But then I get up and poke holes through those cages. I bust out. I refuse to let anyone box me in,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “So, I should stand up to them?” asked Davanté.

  “No. Arguments just get you nowhere fast. That's not the answer. The answer is in you,” she said.

  �
��What do you mean?” asked Davanté.

  “Think about it. In fact, meditate on it. Based on what we believe, ask God who you are. Ask Him what you should be doing. And wait for the answer. When you get it, do it. Do it with reckless abandon. Do it until everyone is shocked and surprised. That's how you bust out of your little cage. By living your life as it was meant to be lived,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  Davanté looked at Snowball. He had stopped growling and was sitting down obediently next to Mrs. Beauchmont.

  “Mrs. Beauchmont, do you think I'm gonna make it?” asked Davanté.

  “Davanté, by just asking that question you are already many steps ahead. People who don't stop to think about their lives are the ones that easily fail,” she said.

  Davanté looked at Mrs. Beauchmont. Although he wished to be alone, he was glad that she spoke to him. As usual, her optimism sparked something within his spirit.

  Sensing it, Mrs. Beauchmont stood up.

  “Well, it's getting dark. I'm hungry and tired!” she said.

  She turned and gazed at Davanté's house. The house was dark with the curtains drawn closed.

  “Is there someone living here with you?” she asked him.

  “No. I actually live at my Aunt Thelma's,” said Davanté.

  “Oh, I see. Yes, I often visit my husband, too,” she said.

  “Yeah,” said Davanté.

  “Why don't I take you back to your auntie's? It’s getting too dark to walk around alone. Come along,” said Mrs. Beauchmont.

  Davanté hesitated. He knew his aunt would have questions regarding his whereabouts. He had been intentionally ignoring his smartphone's rings, figuring it was Aunt Thelma, Lionel or Vanessa. He just did not want to face them now.

  As if she read his mind, Mrs. Beauchmont said, “Come on. The sooner you face them, the quicker the healing will come. Come on. You can't run from the world. You've got to face it,” she said.

  Davanté slowly stood up. He strolled down the porch steps and walked back with Mrs. Beauchmont to her house. She quickly put Snowball inside, then gestured for Davanté to get into her car.

  Mrs. Beauchmont rolled down the car windows to let the cool evening air in. She obediently followed Davanté's direction to Aunt Thelma's house. As she rolled the car to a stop, she turned to him.

  “Stay cool. Use your beliefs. Turn to your God. He will answer you. I know it,” she said.

  Davanté nodded. He exited the car and went inside the house. Luckily, Aunt Thelma was not home, having left the house on a quick errand. Since, Kendra was too busy with her college homework to notice his arrival, Davanté quickly slipped into his room. He took a long shower and proceeded to lay down.

  Then he began to do something he had not done in years. He slid over to the side of his bed and knelt down on the floor. In the quiet, he prayed. He asked God for answers. He asked God for peace. He asked God for direction. He asked God to tell him the truth about his life.

 

  Eleven