by Vivian Ward
“Yes, I can do that. Do you guys like fried chicken and all the sides?”
“That would be nice.” I hesitated for a moment, “Dale, I wanted to tell you that I haven’t been blowing you off. I’ve been so busy with my little buttercup. It’s hard not having anyone to take care of her other than myself. I know my best friend—Lorraine—has our back and would do anything at the drop of a dime, but she really needs her mom. I hope you can understand.”
“Kimberly, I completely understand. I wouldn’t expect you to do anything less. I’ll see you soon.”
After we had ended our call, I walked back into my room where Nevaeh was resting in bed. “Hey, sweetie pie.”
“Hi, Momma. Who were you talking to?” She had overheard bits and pieces of the conversation.
“A friend of mine. His name’s Dale, and he’s going to come over to hang out with us. He wants to meet you!” I proposed enthusiastically, hoping that my daughter would be happy to have a new visitor. Hopefully, she won’t say anything to her grandmother or uncles that I had a white man over here.
“Why?”
“Because I talk about you so much! He’s heard a lot of great things about you.” I explained as I playfully swooped Nevaeh’s nose with my fingertip.
“You didn’t tell him any funny stories about me, did you, momma? I don’t like when you do that; everyone laughs at me!”
“No, I haven’t told him any of those yet. I figured I’d save the best for last.” I giggled with my daughter. “He’s going to bring us some dinner. Are you in the mood for fried chicken?”
“Mm, that sounds good! I don’t know how much I’ll be able to eat, but I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ever ask. No matter what, mommy always loves you, okay?” I reiterated as I tearfully smiled at my daughter.
When Nevaeh became sick, she hadn’t had much of an appetite. It didn’t worry me at first since Nevaeh went through bouts where she wouldn’t eat anything to where she’d gobble up everything in sight. But these the last couple of weeks, she’d hardly eaten anything. I hoped her decreased hunger was the reason she was so weak, but my instinct told me that there was more than meets the eye.
Before Dale arrived, I ran around the house trying to tidy up. My home wasn’t ordinarily messy, but since I’d been taking care of my daughter so much, everything kind of fell by the wayside. Scampering from room to room, I was out of breath by the time I was done. That will have to be good enough, I thought as I looked around the house. I checked on Nevaeh again as I finished up with the housework.
“Momma, why are you running all over the place?” she questioned when she noticed me standing in the doorway.
“I wasn’t,” I lied, fanning my face in an attempt to cool myself off.
“I could hear you. I bet you ran through every room there is.” Nevaeh laughed.
“Mommy was picking up before our friend Dale gets here. I’ll come back in a few minutes to check on you.” I promised.
I made a mad dash to the bathroom, rubbed on some deodorant, smoothed out my hair and began to apply a bit of lipstick. I had just opened my tube of mascara when there was a knock on the front door. “Shit, Dale’s here,” I whispered. I quickly swiped my long lashes with a coat of black mascara and yelled, “I’m coming!” as I approached the front door.
Dale was carrying a few bags of food with a variety of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, biscuits, coleslaw and condiments.
“Oh my! Dale, you didn’t have to bring all of this!” I marveled as I rifled through the containers, placing everything on the table.
“It was no problem. I figured I’d pick up some extras so you can reheat them tomorrow for lunch or dinner,” he smiled at me.
“Thanks, Dale, that was very thoughtful of you,” I gloated. “Here, let’s make our plates and I’ll bring Nevaeh out to join us once everything’s ready.”
“You lead and I’ll follow.” He replied.
We formed a nice little assembly line as we put food on the dishes. I was in charge of the chicken and Cole slaw while Dale handled the mashed potatoes and gravy and corn. After our drinks had been poured, I went into my bedroom to bring Nevaeh out for dinner but she was fast asleep. I debated waking her up for a moment but decided to let her rest; she could eat later.
“Well, I guess it’s you and me,” I announced as I walked back into the kitchen.
“How come? Doesn’t she want to meet me?” Dale frowned, a little disappointed.
I shook my head, “No, she’s sleeping. I was going to wake her, but I’d like her to get rest so she has some strength. She can eat later. I’ll heat it up for her.”
As I pulled up a seat next to Dale, I had no idea that our evening was about to become much deeper than I’d ever imagined.
Chapter Six
“Thanks for dinner. It was delicious. If you don’t mind, I’m going to run to my room real quick to check on Nevaeh. You can go ahead and have a seat on the couch.”
Dale nodded as I began making my way down the Harris to my bedroom. The door was still cracked open, allowing me to poke my head into the doorway; I spied Nevaeh still fast asleep. I backed away and walked to the living room.
“Would you like some coffee or something?” I offered.
“Yeah, that would be nice. I’ll help you.”
“No, you’re my guest. You sit tight and I’ll be right back.”
“Kimberly, you’re not at work. You don’t have to wait for me. I insist, let me come help you.”
I shrugged my shoulders as he followed me into the kitchen. After we had poured our coffee, we headed back to the living room and sat on the couch facing each other. I sipped my coffee as I noticed Dale looking at all of my pictures.
“You sure have a lot of pictures of Nevaeh in here,” he said, smiling in admiration.
“Yeah, I live for that little girl.”
“Who are those people?” he probed, nodding towards pictures of my family.
“That’s my mom and dad,” I said, pointing to a picture of them that was taken before he was killed. “And those are my brothers,” I picked up their picture. “This is my oldest brother Tony and these are my two younger brothers, Jason, and Terrance.”
“Where do they live?”
“My mom lives in Lemay with my baby brother Terrance, and my other two brothers live in South County.”
“Why does your mom live with your brother? Where’s your dad?”
“That was one of the things I’ve wanted to talk to you about,” I said looking at my coffee mug. “My family doesn’t like white people. My dad was killed by a crooked white cop.”
“That’s terrible. What happened?”
I looked at him for a moment as I tried to gather my emotions to form the right words. It was so tragic even though it had been a little over 10 years since the accident.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I understand.”
“No, it’s okay,” I said looking at my late father’s picture. “I guess it was more of a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Some guy, close to my dad’s age, had robbed a convenience store. The police were on a look-out for a subject wearing dark jeans and a gray hoodie.”
“Let me guess, your dad was wearing something similar?” he interrupted.
I nodded. “Yeah, and he was in the general vicinity where the crime occurred. As he was walking down the street, the cops tried to stop him. Obviously, he resisted because he didn’t know what was going on. That’s when things got nasty,” I stopped. I had to try to collect myself before I could continue.
“I do not like the sound of this story,” Dale said.
“When he resisted, the police automatically assumed he was the perp they were looking for. My dad tried reaching for his wallet, to show his ID to prove who he was and that’s when the cop emptied his 9mm into my father,” I began to sob.
“Jesus fucking Christ! I remember that story. It made national headlines. Kimberly, I’m
so sorry,” he said sympathetically.
“My pops never made it home that night. I can still remember my mom calling everyone to see if anyone had seen him. We didn’t know what happened to him until the next afternoon. They waited a whole fucking day to call our family.”
“Is that why you didn’t want me coming over? Because your family hates white people because of what happened to your dad?”
“Yeah. I’ve never been a racist person, but my family became very prejudiced since the incident. If they knew that you were here, my brothers would come stomp a hole in your ass.”
“What if I talked to them? Let them see I’m not an evil white guy?”
“That won’t work, Dale. They won’t see it like that.” I didn’t want to say what came out next, but I figured it was the only decent thing to do. “If you don’t wish to continue a relationship with me, I understand. I’m not even sure it’ll work.”
“Kimberly,” he cupped my chin in his large hands. “I will never give up on you. You have no idea what kind of effect you have on me.”
“You’re so sweet,” I replied as a tear ran down my cheek.
“Kimberly, I’m so sorry that you suffered through that. I can’t even imagine.” Dale said at a loss for words. He wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Yep, it sucks. My mom is an incredible woman. She’s always had my back, stood up for me and has helped me in any way she could. I’m just not sure that she’ll be so accepting of you.”
“At least you have good memories of your dad. No one will ever be able to take those away from you. I bet I could work my charm on your mom, and your brothers.”
“Yeah,” Kimberly agreed, looking at the stand with her parent’s pictures on it.
“Since my dad’s death, my mom’s been bitter. You can tell she’s sad and lonely. I think the only time she smiles is when she sees Nevaeh or my nephew Marcus. She loves her grandbabies,” I smiled.
“Wow, Kimberly. You’ve gone through so much, no wonder you’re such a strong woman. I admire you.” He sipped his coffee for a moment, “I bet your dad watches you from heaven and sees what an outstanding mother you’ve become. I’m sure he’s proud.”
“Well, that’s my story. How about your family?” I asked, turning the spotlight on him.
§
I sighed. Where would I begin? I couldn’t imagine telling her about my family’s problems after hearing how she’d lost her dad and how it had affected her mom.
“I have to warn you, it’s not nearly as colorful as your past.”
“I’d say we all have colorful histories, just different shades.”
I nodded, “I agree.”
I cleared my throat, “My parents were always wealthy. My mom always wanted to have children so when she was in her early 30s, they began trying to conceive. I was the end result,” I smiled.
“The earliest memory that I have is my mom telling me that I was going to be a big brother. At first, I was angry. I didn’t want a sibling to steal away the attention, but I grew to accept it. I was happy, and I couldn’t wait to meet my new brother or sister. At the end of February, my mom gave birth to my little brother, Anthony—who we called Tony. Come to think of it, I thought it was weird that you have a brother named Tony,” I laughed to lighten the mood a bit.
I took another sip from my mug. “Tony was the apple of my mom’s eye. He was her everything—much like Nevaeh is for you. It was sweet really. She never showed me the affection that she gave my brother, but I accepted the fact that he was the baby and the baby usually gets more attention. My dad was always busy traveling, making money—until my brother got sick.”
I looked at Kimberly, trying to choose my words carefully. I didn’t want to say anything to upset her or alarm her, especially with everything going on with Nevaeh. “My brother began experiencing odd symptoms in the fourth grade. Suddenly, every subject became difficult for him to comprehend. He didn’t understand most of what was being taught. Prior to this, he’d always been an honor roll student, so he was a smart kid. Eventually, he began to exhibit problems with speech; he was unable to articulate thoughts and ideas. My mom took him to various doctors, but they had a hard time diagnosing him. Soon, he began to forget who people were—including us.”
I noticed that Kimberly was hanging onto my every word, by the way, she was intently listening to me. “My mom began to lose it. She took him to every specialist imaginable. He was finally diagnosed with juvenile Huntington’s disease. His condition progressed rapidly, and he died his freshman year of high school.”
“Aww, I’m so sorry,” Kimberly empathized with my loss.
“Thank you. After my brother had passed, both of my parents became very distant, almost detached. During the last few years of my brother’s life, my mom regularly took my brother to doctor appointments for a variety of treatments, which were supposed to delay the disease, but nothing worked. It was very aggressive. As a result, I spent most of my childhood being raised by the nanny. About a year after my brother died, my dad retired and he and mom traveled together extensively.”
“How did you cope with losing your brother? That must have been very tough.”
“Well, I hated being raised by the nanny. I longed for my mother’s attention and affection. Since my brother—and I don’t blame him for it—got most of it, I buried myself in my academics, and later, my work.”
“I guess that’s why you’re so successful today.” Kimberly smiled. “Your brother left you that gift.”
“I suppose,” I shrugged. “I still miss him a lot. He was so much fun. He liked to pull pranks on people before he got sick. If there were a way to rig something or set up a trap, he’d do it.” I smiled, thinking of some of the pranks my brother pulled on me and our parents.
“Wow. We’ve both gone through so much. It’s crazy, isn’t it?”
I nodded in agreement. “Very.”
“Would you like another cup of coffee?” Kimberly asked, noticing my cup was empty.
“Sure.”
“Okay, let me go check on Nevaeh real quick and I’ll make us some.” She tiptoed down the Harris.
As she made her way to the bedroom, I snuck into the kitchen and fixed our coffee. It’s ironic how much we have in common. Here she was with a great dad whom she’d lost, yet became the perfect mother and person, and he longed for that exact type of relationship. They’d both suffered a great deal of loss and had coped with the deaths of the people they loved the most. On the other hand, they were exact opposites. She was a hardworking waitress at a chain restaurant while I was living on Easy Street as a billionaire. Well, they do say opposites attract. It amazed me how well I connected with her.
As I was making my way back into the living room, I saw Kimberly carrying Nevaeh down the hallway. I scurried to help her.
“Do you need some help carrying her?” I offered.
“No, it’s fine. I got her. She was awake and wanted to meet you.”
I peered down at the beautiful little girl and noticed I was right, she did look just like her mom.
“Hi, I’m Dale,” I said with a grin on my face as I looked at a much younger version of Kimberly.
“Hi. Did you bring us dinner?”
Kimberly and I busted out in laughter. “Yes, I did. Are you hungry? Your mom and I made you a plate, but you’d fallen asleep by the time it was ready.”
Nevaeh nodded her head yes. “If you’d like, I can heat her plate up or I can carry her. Which would you prefer?”
“I’ll carry her to the kitchen table and you can heat up her plate.”
“Will do!” I said as I spun on my heel and did a silly march in front of Nevaeh, in hopes of making her laugh. It worked. Nevaeh giggled all the way to the kitchen.
We sat with Nevaeh as she ate her dinner. I asked her all about herself, which she proudly and eagerly volunteered a wealth of information. She loved talking about herself, and it didn’t take me long to figure that out. As we sat together, I learned that her favor
ite color was purple, she loved to play Hopscotch, her favorite song was “I Will Always Love You” by Whitney Houston and that her favorite holiday was Christmas. I doted on the child as I listened to her.
§
I was shocked to see that she had eaten most of her dinner as she spoke with Dale; it was such a relief to see her eat a whole meal for the first time in weeks.
