“None of us are perfect, chile.”
“Damn it, Mama,” Monica snapped. “It’s not about being perfect. It’s about giving and receiving respect. When you promise to love someone, you promise to respect them too. Daddy never gave you that, yet you stayed with him. Why? Mama, betrayal hurts so much. Why did you live with it?”
“Chile, I made a promise to God, and on top of that, I had a family to take care of.”
“But Daddy—”
“‘Daddy’, nothin’! Baby, no matter what a woman does, or how good she is, sometimes men will just be men. All a woman can do is hope that a man gets to a point where they realize that they have to grow up. That’s their decision to make, and that’s something that can’t be forced. Eventually most men get to where they’re tired of bein’ little boys. Baby, I’m sorry Bryce did what he did. But he’s a man. Now, you as the woman have to decide if you love and believe in him enough to move on. Do you love him, baby?”
Monica closed her eyes; she wanted to hate him. “Yes,” she said softly.
“Okay then.” Jean got up from the table and went to the stove. Stirring the pot of rice, she said, “Love is a wonderful thing, girls. And when it’s real, it can hurt like hell sometimes.” Jean closed the lid on the rice and without a word, walked out of the kitchen, leaving Monica and Karen to ponder the things she’d said.
Jean wanted to be alone for a few minutes, but before she could make it to the stairs to go up to her bedroom, the doorbell rang. Her heart stuttered as the chime faded away.
She walked to the door slowly. Praise God, he’d come.
She opened the door and looked from her son to his companion. Tense silence hovered around them for a moment, before Jean looked at her son and smiled. “Hello, Jeffrey.”
“Hello Mama,” Jeff answered quietly. He had thought about not coming to the dinner. He thought it would have been better had he not been there. But something happened to Jeff that hadn’t happened in a long time.
The Lord had spoken to him.
It had been through one of his patients, who’d just lost his mother. Grieving over the loss, Ken Murphy said, “I never got to tell my mother how much I loved her. Or how much her presence meant and helped me. I know you’re supposed to be the one helping me with my depression and giving me advice doc, but take it from me, don’t make the same mistake I made.”
Jeff understood the message loud and clear, and on that day, decided that he had to make the trip.
“Mama ...” he said, turning toward Sherry. “This is Sherry. Sherry, my mama.”
Jeff watched and waited to see what his mother would do. He decided to bring Sherry, despite his mother’s feelings. Sherry was important to him and his mother would have to see that.
Jean’s heart beat slow and heavy. She looked at Sherry and forced herself not to see an image of four white teenage boys beating on a girl—one she’d conjured in her mind over the years—but rather the beautiful woman standing before her. She extended her hand. “Hello, Sherry.”
Sherry took her hand. “Hello, Mrs. Blige. It’s nice to meet you. Jeff has told me so much about you.”
Jean smiled pleasantly and looked towards her son, who stared back at her with disbelief at her cordiality. “Well, he hasn’t told me anything about you, so you’ll have to tell me all about yourself.”
Jean held Jeff’s gaze for a few seconds, then she fixed her attention back on Sherry, who was delightfully attractive. “I’m sure my son has told you all about me. Unfortunately, it’s very true. But it’s time to change.”
Sherry smiled. “I appreciate your honesty, Mrs. Blige.”
Jean stepped to the side. “Come inside, please.” When she closed the door, she said, “Jeff, your daddy is in the living room with Bryce and Alex. Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes. You men set the table. Everything you need is in the dining room.”
Jeff nodded but didn’t move. His mother’s cordiality was something he hadn’t expected. It worried him. “Are you okay, Mama?”
“Chile, it’s my birthday. Now go say hi to your daddy and you men get that table set. Sherry, come let me introduce you to my daughters.”
Jeff watched his mother lead Sherry to the kitchen and then turned to see his father step out of the living room. Both men looked at one another but didn’t say a word, as their last conversation replayed in their minds.
“Jeffrey,” Stewart finally said.
“Dad.”
“Glad you could make it.”
“Glad I came.”
Silence again as the two men contemplated what to say or do next. Jeff thought about his patient’s advice again. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Stewart said, “Come into the living room. Alex and Bryce are there.”
Stewart turned and walked away without waiting for his son. Jeff sighed and followed behind. Maybe they would try again later.
24
“Monica, can I speak to you for a minute, in private?” Bryce asked, stepping into the kitchen. Monica gave Bryce a hard, unfriendly glare and didn’t respond. She hadn’t meant to say anything to her mother about what Bryce had done, but the pain had been too hard to hide. Now that she had, she wished that she’d never asked Bryce to come. “Please?” Bryce pleaded. He could feel the vehemence coming from her, but it didn’t matter.
Jean put her hand on Monica’s shoulder. “Go out back, chile.”
Monica exhaled, then stood up and walked out through the back door without saying a word.
When Bryce stepped outside and closed the door, Monica, who had walked to the old swing set her parents had bought for their children years ago, said with her back to him, “I don’t want you here, Bryce.”
Bryce’s shoulders slumped. “Baby, please, can you at least hear me out?”
“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. You’ve said enough already.”
“Monica, I’m so sorry for what I did. Baby, you’ve got to believe me.”
“Do I know her, Bryce?” Not that it would make her feel any better, but she couldn’t help but wonder if the other woman had had any opportunities to smile in her face.
“No,” Bryce lied. Nicole had actually met Monica at a company picnic. Bryce knew better than to tell the truth.
Monica curled her lips. She didn’t know whether to believe him or not. She turned and faced Bryce. She had another burning question to ask, but she wanted to see his face when he answered. “When was the last time you saw her?”
Bryce lowered his chin to his chest and inhaled. This wasn’t the conversation he’d wanted. “Monica ... does it really matter? It happened and now it’s over. I want to talk about us.”
“Us?” Monica snapped. “And what do you mean ‘does it matter’?”
“I don’t want to talk about the past. I want to focus on the future,” Bryce said hoping her voice wouldn’t raise another octave.
It did.
Monica’s neck stiffened. “I don’t give a fuck if it’s the past! You fucked some other bitch, and you got her pregnant! I have a right to know all about your shit. Where did you fuck, Bryce? On her bed? On yours? Or did you use the spare key and fuck on mine? How many times, Bryce? How many times did you two fuck while you were telling me that you loved me? Did this bitch even know you were involved? Or did you play it up and tell her you were single, in which case, she would just be another one of your victims? How did you do it, Bryce? Tell me goddammit! When did you find the time to fuck and make babies? Was I around? Or did you do it when I went away on business? Is that it? Your pathetic ass waited for me to leave town to get your swerve on, while I sat up in a hotel room missing you and thinking how lucky I was to have you? Tell me, you lyin’ ass coward!”
Monica paused to wipe away tears, which ran in rivulets down her cheeks. Her head was pounding from the pain Bryce had caused. Her hands shook with anger.
Bryce looked at her and felt his heart shattering. He couldn’t deal with knowing he’d hurt her this way.
“Baby, please ... I’m sorry. I love you.”
Monica shook her head furiously. “How did she get pregnant, Bryce? Did the condom break? Or did you love me so much that you fucked her without one? Is that how much you loved me? Speaking of which, are there any other baby mamas I need to be worried about?” Monica wrapped herself in her arms. “My God,” she whispered. “I have to go and get a blood test. You could have given me AIDS!—”
“Monica,” Bryce cut in. “I don’t have AIDS.”
“How the fuck do you know?” she said viciously. “Have you been tested? Has your bitch? Damn it, Bryce, I loved you! Do you hear me? I gave you my heart and the only thing you could do with it was break it. I hate you now, Bryce. I fucking hate you! I want you to leave. I don’t want you at my parents’ home. I should never have asked you to come.”
“Baby,” Bryce pleaded. Tears were falling from his eyes now. “Please give me another chance? I don’t want to lose you. I love you. I need you.”
He took a step toward her. He desperately wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her for eternity.
Monica stepped back and put up her hands, letting him know that eternity no longer existed. “Don’t come any closer, Bryce. And don’t use the word love anymore. At least not with me. Save it for your ho.”
“Baby—” Bryce tried again.
“Leave Bryce. It’s bad enough my father is here. The last thing I want is you here too. Leave! Get your shit and go!”
“Monica, how am I supposed to get home? We’re in North Carolina.” Bryce asked weakly.
“I don’t give a damn! Take a bus or walk home. As a matter of fact, call your damn baby mama. Just leave.” Monica turned her back to him and wept powerfully. Bryce wiped his tears with the back of his hand and took another step toward her.
“Monica ... I love you so much. You’re my world. My everything. I made a mistake. Baby, please, we can get through this. I know it. Just give me a chance.”
“Get the hell away from me!” Monica hissed.
Bryce shook his head defiantly. He didn’t want to give in. “I need you,” he said in a barely audible whisper. A couple of more steps and he would be able to hold her. If he could just do that, he could make everything right again, but before he could move to her, a voice called out from behind.
“Bryce, please respect my daughter’s wishes.”
Bryce closed his eyes and lowered his head. “But I love her,” he said defeated.
“If you love her, respect her,” Jean said, walking past him to her daughter’s side.
A new wave of tears fell from Bryce’s eyes. He’d lost. He took one last look at the woman who was everything to him, the woman whose body was shuddering from her sobs. He looked to Jean with pleading eyes. Give her time, Jean mouthed without a sound. Bryce nodded and exhaled. He’d done his crime and his sentence had been delivered in callused rejection.
Give her time.
Did that mean there was a still a chance?
Bryce walked back into the house to get his things.
In the yard, Jean held her daughter firmly and allowed her to cry. She’d heard the whole conversation from the window after ushering Karen and Sherry out of the kitchen. Monica was her daughter, so of course she would listen. She’d heard too, the comment Monica had made about her father. Jean hugged her child and kissed her forehead. She never wanted any of her children to feel this type of pain. Pain that she’d been all too familiar with, and had grown numb to. She squeezed Monica tighter. It was now time to speak to the family.
25
“I have leukemia. Doctor Johnson has given me up to two years to live, but that’s with medication and chemotherapy. But I’m not takin’ any medicine and pollutin’ my body with radiation is not an option, so the most I’ll probably survive will be six months to a year, give or take a few months. The timeline is for the Lord to decide.”
Jean sat down while everyone at the table stared at her in stunned silence. Ticking from the clock hanging in the kitchen was the only sound that could be heard.
Stewart watched his wife, searching for some type of indication that she had been joking. “Jean; baby ... are you serious?” he asked, his jaw slack, his eyes wide.
Jean looked at her husband. “Yes,” she answered evenly.
“Wh ... when did you find out?”
“Last month.”
“Last month?” Karen asked.
Next it was Monica to speak. “You mean you knew that long and didn’t tell us?”
“I’m tellin’ y’all now.”
“Like this?” Jeff asked.
Jean placed her hands on her hips. “How else should I tell you?”
“I don’t know, Mama,” Jeff answered. “Just not like this. We came to celebrate your birthday.”
“And what do you think I’m doing? I am celebrating.”
“Celebrating what, Jean?” Stewart asked angrily. “You find out you’re dying and you don’t even bother to tell me in private? I’m your husband damn it!” Stewart rose from his chair and threw his napkin into his empty plate. “How could you keep this from me?”
“Sit down, Stewart,” Jean said unflustered by his anger. Stewart and everybody else stared intently at her, each lost in their own thoughts. “Sit Stewart,” she said in a more forceful tone.
Stewart sat down reluctantly. Monica shook her head. She’d had enough pain to last her a lifetime. “Why are you doing this, Mama?”
“Chile, I’m not doing anything but passing on the news the Lord done already delivered to me.”
“Why like this, Mama?” Karen asked in a pain-filled voice.
Jean took a sip of her juice. “Everyone, I’m sorry you all had to find out like this, but I couldn’t tell you any other way.”
“You’re not making any sense, Jean,” Stewart said, his fists clenched. “How could this be the only way to tell us?”
“Life for me changed after Dr. Johnson gave me the news, and I don’t mean changed because I’m dyin’.”
“Don’t say that, Mama,” Monica said loudly. “There are treatments, medicines ... something. They can clone animals for Christ’s sake. You’re not dying!”
Jean touched her daughter’s hand. Her eyes were fixed on her husband as she said, “I’m dyin’. This leukemia is not curable. I’m dyin’. But it’s okay.”
“How can you say it’s okay, Mama?” Jeff asked, fighting tears. Sherry sat uncomfortably beside him.
“It’s okay Jeffrey, because I’ve finally done something I needed to do a long time ago. Change. That’s why I wanted you all here. There are things I need to say to each and every one of you. You too, Sherry.”
“But Jean—” Stewart started.
“Be quiet and let me finish Stewart. You can at least do that for me.”
Thrown by her acerbic tone, Stewart became silent. Jean stood up again. She’d dreamt of this moment since finding out about her infliction. Only in her dream, her heart had been racing and her palms sweaty. Now that the moment had finally arrived, she was surprisingly calm.
“Monica, I know that you don’t agree with the decisions I’ve made regarding your daddy, but I made those decisions for me. Yes, he’s disrespected me, and yes, I allowed it.” Jean paused to make sure she had her husband’s attention. The numb stare on his face let her know that she did.
She continued.
“But like I said, I had a family to take care of. Sometimes as women, we have to make tough decisions, as you now know. Chile, those decisions are even harder when you have a family to raise and when you truly love someone.
“Baby, you don’t have a family, but you, yourself, said that you love Bryce. I know you’re hurting right now. But it will get better. I promise. The pain will lessen. But give Bryce a chance, baby. Maybe not today, or even next week, but give him one. Because I can see in his eyes that he does love you. He’s a man, baby, and he made a man’s mistake. You got to give him at least one chance to make up for it. Believe me, chile, that’s not be
ing weak.”
Monica nodded her head slowly as her mother’s words sank in. For the first time she’d realized how strong of a woman her mother truly was. “I love you, Mama,” she said softly.
“I love you too, baby.”
Jean turned her attention to Karen and Alex. “Karen, you know I came up in a different time. I’ve seen and experienced some difficult things. Things that I could not get past. Because of that, I robbed myself from enjoying the most important day of your life. Baby, I love you and I ask for your forgiveness for not coming to your wedding. Alex, I’m sorry for not being able to look past my own ignorance and realize that my daughter would not settle for anything other than the best to be at her side. You love my daughter in a way a man should love a woman, and when I look in her eyes, I can see that she is truly happy and she loves you. Alex, I love you for brightening my baby’s world, and so I ask for your forgiveness too.”
Alex smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Blige. It took a lot to do what you just did. And you never needed forgiveness from me.”
“Thank you, baby. And please, call me Mama, or Mama Blige. You’re family.” Jean looked at Karen, who sat silent with tears of joy and sadness running down her cheeks. “Baby? Will you forgive me?” Karen stood up and walked to her mother. “I love you, Mama,” she said wrapping her arms around her.
“Mama, there’s something Alex and I need to tell you,” Karen said glancing at her husband. He nodded. “We’re having a baby.”
Jean clasped her hands together and looked up to the sky. “Thank you, Jesus,” she whispered. She kissed her daughter again and then called for Alex to come over. He did, and she hugged him tightly. It’s about time one of my children gave me a grandbaby.”
“But Mama, that means that you can’t leave,” Karen said.
Jean smiled and kissed her forehead. “My departure time is in the Lord’s hands, baby. Now go sit down. I’m not finished yet.” When Karen and Alex sat down, Jean looked at her son. “Jeffrey, it’s no secret that I’ve had a problem with you and your dating preferences. Sherry, my mama was murdered by four white teenage boys because of the color of her skin. They didn’t care that she was a beautiful and kind woman, who was loved by all. It didn’t matter that if my mama had come across either one of them while they were cold and starving, she would have readily given up her coat or taken them in for shelter. See, my daddy told me that’s the kind of woman she was. But those boys didn’t care. She was a nigger and they hated her.
If It Isn't Love Page 13
