by Loc Glin
“You’re actually leaving?” Frank’s tone expressed his shock.
“I know.” Shamika shook her head in disbelief. “After all these years it’s hard to believe. You’ve been a good landlord and friend, Frank.”
“Are you going home then?” He followed her outside to the street.
“For a visit, and then I’m off to Idaho.”
“Idaho? Why Idaho? I mean it’s so far away from everything.”
“You can say that again! I thought Deerfield Township was country. Idaho makes it feel like a heavily populated suburban community instead of the boonies. It’s funny how your perception can change.”
“Honey, when you’re born and raised in New York City, like I am, any place that has trees is the boonies.” Frank chuckled.
Shamika joined him. She’d lived in this valley created by skyscrapers long enough to understand his sentiment. “You have Central Park. I do believe there are trees in Central Park,” she said with a teasing jab to his upper arm.
“They are city trees, they don’t count.” He smiled at her. “Seriously now, why Idaho?”
“I met someone. I may be getting married.”
“You could knock me over with a feather right now. I never thought I’d see the day someone could get past your defenses. Ever since Eli left, you’ve closed yourself off.”
“I didn’t think it showed.” She moved into the street and beside driver’s door of the car, Frank followed.
“I know you too well not to have noticed.”
“I suppose you do. You’re the first friend I made when I came here.” She gave him a quick hug.
Frank returned the hug, and then moved back to the sidewalk. “You’ve changed a lot since then, been tainted and disillusioned. I hope this young man can make you happy and change all that.”
“I hope so, too. I’m going to give him a chance.” Shamika opened the door and slipped behind the wheel of the car she’d rented.
Frank bent over to look through the passenger window. “Drop me a line once in a while to let me know how you’re doing.” His smile was warm, friendly, and caring.
“I will,” she promised. Frank moved away from the car as she pulled out of the parking space and entered the traffic on the busy street. Looking in the rearview mirror, she saw him waving, so she stuck her arm out of the window and waved back. “I’m going to miss him,” she said, brushing away the tear that was making its way toward her cheek.
The backseat and trunk were filled with everything she’d accumulated over the years, everything that she wanted to keep, that is. All things considered, it wasn’t very much. She’d given her working clothes to Debbie, one of the hookers she’d come to know. Shamika knew the girls on the corner were glad to see her go, even though they’d said otherwise. After all, they were competitors. She didn’t work the corner very often, but when she did the girls lost customers. That life was disappearing behind her as she left the city streets and headed for the open highway.
Shamika stopped and spent the night at the Quality Inn in Millville, NJ. She didn’t want to arrive at her aunt’s house in the middle of the night.
After checking out, she went to a nearby diner for breakfast which consisted of toast with strawberry jam, half of a grapefruit, and two cups of strong black coffee.
When she left the booth her stomach started doing flip-flops. She couldn’t believe how nervous she was. “Get yourself under control, girl,” she reprimanded, as if saying the words out loud would make it happen more quickly.
Driving down the familiar streets of her childhood started memories flooding into her mind. She looked at the young adults she passed and wondered if she knew any of the mothers pushing strollers or walking their children to the school bus stop. How peaceful and quiet everything seemed. It had been a good life, why hadn’t she seen that back then? She’d been young and full of herself, that’s why.
Aunt Susan’s house came into view. The car idled a moment before she turned the motor off. Shamika recalled that her aunt loved to bake and did it often. Her kitchen always smelled like bread or cinnamon rolls. The house looked older and shabbier than she remembered. Was that a natural side effect of the passage of time? The front porch needed repairs and the house could use a fresh coat of paint. Uncle Richard had always been meticulous about his house. What had happened?
She walked down the path leading to the back of the house. It was still early so she thought everyone would be in the kitchen. The neighbor’s small dog scratched on the glass and barked through the window of the house next door as she passed.
The grass surrounding the path along the side of her aunt’s house was untrimmed and tall enough to have gone to seed. As she rounded the corner to the back of the house she noticed that the grass in the backyard needed attention, too.
The lawn furniture she remembered was still there. The chairs were turned on their sides, rusted and half covered by the grass. What is going on here? Uncle Richard would never let this happen.
The screen door screeched as she opened it. A bad feeling took up residence in her gut. With nerves strung out, she rapped on the door lightly and waited.
Giving in to a nervous habit, she put her finger to her mouth and started to nibble the cuticle. She mentally scolded herself as she looked at the torn skin in disgust.
The curtain covering the door’s window was moved to the side.
The grey-haired woman she saw through the dirty windowpane bore little resemblance to the beautiful woman she remembered.
“Aunt Susan?” she asked hesitantly.
The door to the house was cracked open.
“Shamika! You’ve come home!” the woman whispered happily as she opened the door and moved forward, her arms open for a hug.
“Aunt Susan, is it really you?” Shamika found herself entwined in a hug. A hug so fierce one would think it impossible by looking at the woman administering it.
“I know I’ve changed since you saw me last. The years have not been kind to me.” Her sad eyes were filling with tears that threatened to spill.
“You look wonderful,” Shamika disagreed.
“Ann, Jim,” Aunt Susan called over her shoulder. “Look who’s here.” She stepped back fully opening the door as she did so. She smiled as she dabbed at the unshed tears with her apron. The man and woman sitting at the kitchen table turned their faces toward the door.
Her parents looked different, sad and strained like an elastic band ready to snap. The years had not been kind to them either. Her mother was still pretty, but her hair was streaked with grey. Her father was so thin she would not have thought it possible. She realized she could have passed him on the street and never known it was her father. Her mother stood. The print of the cotton dress she wore was faded and hung loosely on her frail frame. To Shamika’s way of thinking, the three of them were much too thin. Why?
“Mother?” Shamika stepped into the kitchen. Emotions churned and bubbled in her nervous stomach.
“Shamika?” Tears began to stream down her mother’s cheeks as she moved around the table.
Shamika moved forward.
Ann rushed to her daughter with open arms.
Shamika was squeezed tightly before her mother released her to cup her cheeks in hands consumed with tremors.
Fingers tightened around her face. “It’s so good to see you, honey,” Ann said through trembling lips.
“It’s good to see you, too, Mom.” Shamika had a tear rolling down her cheek now, too.
“We were afraid you wouldn’t come.” Ann’s smile couldn’t hide the anxiety in her eyes.
“I just got the card.”
“I sent that at least three weeks ago.”
“I wasn’t at home when it arrived. I just got back.” She moved into her father’s arms, he’d come up behind her mother. “Hi, Dad,” she said.
“Hi, yourself. I’m so sorry, honey. Please forgive me,” he said, holding her tightly.
“There’s nothing to forgive. We had a
disagreement, families have disagreements.” She tilted her head to create a slight distance between them so she could see him better.
“I was so stubborn and stupid. Your mother and I had many a fight about it.” Jim glanced at his wife.
Shamika noted the love and sorrow that hid behind the unspoken you-told–me-so in his eyes.
“I was stubborn and stupid, too. I guess we know where I get it from, don’t we.” She smiled fondly at her father and moved out of his arms.
When Shamika was a teenager her mother used to go crazy. The times she and her father didn’t see eye to eye, which was quite often, the tension in the house could last for weeks. Her mother would usually put her foot down and end the nonsense. She had a feeling that her mother had put her foot down once again. Only this time she was very happy about it.
Mr. Adams cleared his throat. “We certainly do.” He winked. “You get it from your mother.”
Mrs. Adams gave her husband a good natured poke in the ribs, and then put her arm around his waist. He draped his arm over her shoulders. “We all know how much of that statement is true,” she chided playfully.
“None of it, but I will tell you what she does get from you.” Jim gave his wife’s shoulders a squeeze.
“And what would that be?” Ann asked playfully.
“Her good looks. Look how beautiful she is.”
“She is beautiful, and it’s not just a mother’s pride talking here.” She looked at her daughter. “I’m so pale. Her caramel skin makes her so much more vibrant than I ever was.”
“Your pale beauty and my dark coloring did mingle well, didn’t they? She is worth all the ridicule we suffered.”
“She certainly is. It’s easier now, though. People’s attitudes toward interracial marriage have changed. But I’d do it all over again. Your love and Shamika made it all worthwhile for me.”
Aunt Susan was putting cups onto the table. “The coffee will be ready in a minute. Come on, everyone sit down.”
Shamika remembered the snide and hurtful things people used to say about her and her parents. Those insults were part of the reason she’d wanted out so badly.
She didn’t want to waste her reunion thinking about the small-minded people of this town. There weren’t a lot of prejudiced people here, but prejudice hurts no matter what size the dose comes in.
She wanted to change the subject.
“Where is Uncle Richard?” Shamika asked as she slid into a chair.
“Uncle Richard passed away, five years ago now,” Aunt Susan said matter-of-factly.
“Passed away? Five years? Why didn’t someone tell me?”
“I’m sorry, Shamika,” Aunt Susan apologized. “At the time I was too distraught to think about it. I had trouble thinking about the people here.”
“I should have disobeyed your father and sent word, but he wouldn’t hear of it. It was too soon after your argument for him to back down.” Ann touched her daughter’s hand. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“What happened? I mean how did he die?” Tears filled Shamika’s eyes to the brim and were threatening to escape their confines. She’d loved her uncle. He’d been like a second father to her.
“It was a hit and run. The driver left him in the street to die. He lasted three days, but in the end there wasn’t much the doctors could do. He had internal injuries. They’d almost gotten them under control when his heart gave out. I was just happy I got to say goodbye.” Aunt Susan’s eyes began to water.
“Did they ever arrest anyone?”
“No, the police seem to think it was someone passing through town. They did investigate, but they came up empty-handed. There were no leads for them to follow. If I hadn’t gone looking for Richard that day he would have been dead before he reached the hospital.”
“You found him in the road after the accident?”
“No, he’d crawled to the sidewalk, which was just as bad. He’d passed out, but he was still breathing. I thank God for that.”
“Finding him that way must have been horrible.”
“I won’t lie to you. It was one of the worst moments of my life.”
Shamika went to her aunt and hugged her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re here now and that’s what matters. Now sit, while I get us some coffee.”
Before she could sit, her mother clasped her hand. “Thank you for coming. I know you’re busy working on your career.”
“About my career,” she said as she settled into her chair, “so much has changed. I have a lot to tell you.”
“We have a lot to tell you, too.”
Shamika watched her mother nibble anxiously on her lower lip. Her father’s fingers were twitching nervously. Apprehension began to fill her heart. “Why are you here at Aunt Susan’s house? Who’s taking care of the farm?”
“We lost the farm two years ago. We couldn’t keep up with all the bills after your father’s heart attack.”
“Dad, are you okay now, I mean you look too thin, all of you look so thin. Is there something I should be worried about?”
“I don’t like having to admit this to my daughter, but we have fallen on hard times. If it wasn’t for your Aunt Susan, we would be homeless.”
Susan tsked. “Jim, you know as well as I do that I need you here just as much as you need to be here. I was on the brink of losing this place when you came.”
Ann looked at her husband and covered his twitching hand with her own. After giving his hand a comforting squeeze she said, “Between the three of us, we manage to meet the payments on our bills. We all have debt to pay. Sometimes food takes second place. Even with assistance, we’re just managing to survive.”
Shamika was horrified. “I should have been told about this.”
“There was nothing you could have done,” Jim said.
“I could have come home.” She held her father’s gaze.
“And done what? It’s not easy to find work in these parts. I can’t see you scrubbing someone’s floors the way your mother does.”
“You had to go to work, Mom?”
“It’s part-time, a few hours a week just for some extra money. We barely manage on social security.”
“If it weren’t for Richard’s pension I don’t think we could make it. Once the house is paid off I can sell it, and then I’ll be able to get out of my debt. I could go into a senior citizen residence, but that wouldn’t help your mother and father.” Aunt Susan smiled almost apologetically. Maybe she felt guilty for wanting an end to her troubles when it would hurt her sister.
“When we came here we never intended to stay as long as we have. You’ve helped us more than we ever expected. When it comes time for you to sell, we will make other arrangements. The Lord always provides,” Jim said.
“Just when did you become so religious and trusting in The Lord?” Ann asked her husband. “I have to drag you to church.”
“Just because I don’t like to go to church doesn’t mean I don’t have faith. Besides, since my brush with death, that faith has become very clear and dear to me. I tap into it quite often.” He nodded his head as if he were agreeing with himself.
Shamika smiled remembering the times her father invented things to do, just so he wouldn’t have to go to church with her and her mother. She supposed almost dying would give one a big jolt of faith. “Did they foreclose on the farm?”
“We sold it before that happened. But the doctor bills and hospital debt keep us scrambling each month.”
“Maybe I can help with that. Over the years I have managed to save a little. If all goes as I hope it will, I will be leaving New York for good.”
“You’re leaving New York? What about your career?” Her father sounded confused.
“Remember, I said I have a lot to tell you?” Everyone nodded. “You may not like this.”
“We’re listening.” Her mother coaxed.
“Where can I start?”
She sat there trying
to get her thoughts together. How much should she tell them? Did they need to know about her tainted past? Yes, she should tell them, it would be better coming from her. If they were to find out another way, they would be hurt. Their relationship was just starting up again. She didn’t want any misunderstandings to ruin their fragile truce.
“I’ll start with the ugly truth about my career.” She looked at them trying to gauge their reaction. “When we had the argument about me coming home, I still had hopes for my career. I’d been kicked around and disillusioned, but I still thought I had a chance. A year later, I knew better. I suppose I should have come home then, but I couldn’t.”
She took in a breath, hoping it would fortify her.
“Please, try not to judge me. I know you raised me better than this, but I started to earn my way by working at the world’s oldest profession.”
She stopped breathing as she waited for and watched their reaction. To give them credit, they covered their shock and disapproval well. There was a slight gasp from the women, and her father quickly removed the scowl that covered his face.
“Isn’t that dangerous?” he asked.
“I learned how to protect myself, and I was pretty choosey about my clientele. I got lucky and developed some regulars, but you don’t need to hear about that. It is all in the past now. I just wanted you to learn about it from me. I am not ashamed of myself for it, and you shouldn’t be either. It was a job, a means to an end.”
His voice filled with concern, her father asked, “You said you may be leaving New York. What’s happened? Why are you leaving, and where are you going?”
He pushed his fingers through his thinning hair. “We’ve only just been reunited. I don’t want to lose touch again.”
“I won’t let that happen, Dad. We’ve wasted too much time already.” Her heart swelled with love. This kind of questioning used to drive her crazy. He still cared about her enough to treat her like a child. It made her feel loved.
“Yes, we have,” Mrs. Adams said as she squeezed her daughter’s hand. “So, what has brought about this change?”
