Coveted

by Mychea

“Amber,” I reach across the table and take her hand. “I think that you are an amazing woman it’s just that we want different things out of life.”

  “What’s so different? We are both goal-oriented, want the finer things in life and we both want to get married one day. We have fun whenever we are together, and I never crowd your space and try to take over all of your time. So please explain to me what went wrong?”

  “It boils down to the fact that we lack any connection other than physical. When I get married, I want the universe, not just the moon and the stars. I want children, something that you have made quite clear, time and time again, that you do not want. I want it all and I won’t settle.”

  “So now you think you’d be settling if you married me?”

  “Amber, I think that you are going to make a great wife to some guy one day. I just do not believe I am that guy. I want you to be happy, and me wanting children and you wanting it to be just the two of us, is going to cause major friction between us. So I say let’s be rational adults and end this as friends.”

  “Friends?” she gives a short tortured laugh. “I want to marry you and you just want us to be friends? You know what’s funny?” she asks. “I thought you were bringing me out here tonight to propose. I cannot believe I had it all so misconstrued. My love for you does not count for anything. Or will I just be left in the dark to pick up the pieces?”

  “Amber I do love you, but I know that if we try to merge our two worlds it will be a recipe for disaster. That is why I am trying to do the right thing by you and let you go, so you can be free to find exactly what you are looking for.”

  The waiter chose that moment to return with our meals. Thank God for the little things. I needed some sort of distraction from this conversation.

  “I’m no longer hungry. If it’s all the same to you I’d like to be taken home now.”

  “You don’t want to stay and have dinner?” I ask her.

  “I’d rather not. This conversation has caused me to lose my appetite and I would rather leave.”

  “Fair enough,” I say and turn to the waiter, “Could you package our food to go and bring the check please?”

  Once we were out of the restaurant and walking toward the car, I looked over at Amber and she is very distant, as if in her own world. On the ride home, she did not utter one word. I have never known her be so quiet. Amber loves to talk. It is a part of who she is.

  When I pulled in front of her house as she reached for the door handle and was about to get out of the truck she finally spoke.

  “Damir I do love you and I don’t give up so easily. We’ll meet again.” Then she was gone. Her presence, nothing more than a memory I could hold on to.

  I had survived the night. Letting go is never easy. I don’t know why women assume that just because men break up with them that we don’t experience a sense of loss also. Men can just handle the situation better, and do not let our emotions get the best of us. But it sure did feel good to be free again, even if just for a short while.

  Emeri 7

  My life is out of order and I cannot begin to think of a way to make it right again. Nothing will ever be the same. I am a lost soul in search of myself, is what my Mama always says about me. Sometimes I agree with her, but there are many more times that I blame her. I blame her for me growing up without a father, but then I respect her for being able to raise me by herself and make it work. I basically live in a world of confusion where I am trying to discover who I am and what I represent. I feel as if I must be the most displaced 24-year-old in the world, and there is no one to help place me on solid ground. Some days I am angry with myself for blaming my mother, especially now while she is going through so much. I’m going through a lot too. I’m the one that will be left alone in the world with no one to love and care about me. I am suffering too, maybe not physically like Mama, but definitely emotionally. I am angry with her. I am angry with myself. Most importantly, I am angry with God, for letting me go through such trauma in my life and making my mama suffer so much, as if her life wasn’t hard enough. Now, as an adult, I realize that one of the hardest things in the world is watching your mother die slowly, and know there is nothing you can do to help save her. My mama was diagnosed with breast cancer, and the doctors say that there is nothing else that can be done for her. They have given her less than a month to live, and she has chosen to spend her last days at home, for which I am grateful because, I get to spend as much time with her as possible before she leaves me. She has been battling cancer for almost five years, and I have to give her credit, she has fought it as long and hard as she could, but it refuses to go away.

  My Mama has always been a fighter. She survived getting pregnant with me at 19, and having my father walk out on her. She survived raising a half Black, half Puerto Rican baby on her own, when her family disowned her for getting pregnant by a married Black man. She survived working long days and nights so that we had food and shelter. There is no one that I admire more than her. She can take on anything and come out victorious, everything but cancer. My heart breaks a little more every time I look at her. I do not know what my life is going to be like without her in it. She is the only family that I have. She accepts me as I am.

  I knock gently as I am about to enter her room, and push the door open.

  “Buenos dias Mama.”

  “Mi Amor,” she says in a faint tone as she attempts to sit up.

  “No Mama, you don’t have to get up for me. Lie down, get your rest.”

  “I’ll have plenty of time to rest when I’m dead. Right now, I want to sit up. I’m still living you know.”

  “I know Mama,” I say as I help bring her to a sitting position. “I just don’t want you to over exert yourself, is all.”

  “Emeri, baby thank you for being concerned but I am fine. I need you to do something for me. I want you to go to the attic and get my trunk. It should be in the far corner under a blue blanket. There are some things that I would like to go over with you, something that I should have done years ago.”

  I give her a strange look and head for the attic. I have no idea what trunk she is talking about. I have never seen a trunk. I pull down the attic stairs and proceed inside. I hate our attic. It is somewhat creepy. I always feel as if something is going to jump out at me from the shadows at any given moment. I reach down to my waist, damn I forgot my flashlight. I take a quick glance around and see a mountain of stuff in the corner, still no trunk though. I walk swiftly to the corner where the pile is, and begin to move stuff out of the way. Finally, I see a blue blanket, and as I lift it, a big cloud of dust attacks me. My eyes immediately begin to water and I cough. I have to get out of here so I can breathe. I try to lift the trunk, but it is almost twice my weight. My mama is smaller than I am, so I have no idea how she was able to get this thing up here in the first place. I push it to the door of the attic and get in front of it as I slide it down the stairs.

  “Mama what do you have in this thing?” I ask her as I am dragging it into her bedroom.

  “Memories. Memories of a life I tried to forget and one that I would like for you to now embrace.”

  I look at her confused. What in the world, is she talking about? I wonder if her illness is making her delirious.

  “Mama you are not making any sense. I do embrace my life.”

  “Child I know you smarter than you look. Bring that trunk over here to me and, then look inside the top drawer in my dresser and bring me that ring of keys.”

  I go get the keys and bring them to her.

  “Come sit next to me. I want to show you some things.”

  I do as she tells me and have a seat on the bed next to her. She selects a key and tells me to open the trunk. I open the trunk and see a lot of old photos and documents.

  “What’s all this stuff?” I ask.

  “It’s information about your father and his family.”

  I stop and drop the keys.

  “What?” I whisper.

  “Your f
ather, you did have one of those you know.”

  “Why would you be giving me information about my father? As far as I am concerned, I do not have one. Someone that leaves a pregnant woman behind loses the privilege of being called a father.”

  “Emeri, I know you’re upset but I really want you to get to know him and to understand what happened between us all those years ago.”

  “Mama what is there to know? He left. He knew you were pregnant and he left anyway. He never reached out to give you support. He had to know that you were struggling and that your family disowned you.”

  She looks off to the far right and takes some time to answer. When she finally turns to me, I notice that her eyes are glistening with tears that I know she will never shed for a life that she never got the chance to live.

  “Actually, he didn’t know. I never told him that my family disowned me or that I was financially unstable. I told him that I miscarried.”

  “Mama why? Why did you try and do it alone?”

  She looked away from me and I can see the tears threatening to spill.

  “Because he was married and I didn’t want to ruin his family. I was ashamed of myself and of what we did. We never should have happened, but he needed me at the time. I do not know if you can understand that or not, but it felt good to be needed.”

  I look at my mom and try to envision what it must have been like for her at 18 years of age with a sense of wanting to be needed and to belong to someone.

  “I think you’re old enough now to know what really happened between your father and me, and why I want you to reconsider getting to know him and his family.”

  I look at her and wonder do I really want to hear her story. Deep down I know I probably won’t seek out my father, but to appease her, I listen.

  “It was 1983 in New York City. I met your dad when I was 18, my 18th birthday as a matter of fact. A couple of us went out to celebrate at a restaurant and there was this guy. He was nice, dark and handsome. I was immediately captured by his presence so I went over to say hello, and from there my life is forever changed.

  “I walked over to the handsome guy sitting at the table alone with his beer. ‘Either you’re having a bad day or you just haven’t had the pleasure of meeting me yet.’ He glanced up at me, and by the look in his eyes, I could tell that he was barely hanging on by a thread. I sat next to him and looked him right in his eyes and said ’Whatever it is can’t be as bad as all that.’

  “He responded ’I look that bad huh?’ I told him ’Well actually for a guy that looks like he just lost his best friend, you look kind of good to me. Just a little down is all.’ I held out my hand for him to shake. I smiled and told him my name and that it was my birthday.

  “He returns my handshake and gave a slight smile. He told me his name was Kenneth and that it was a pleasure to meet me. ’How is your birthday going so far?’ he asked me. ‘Up until this moment it’s been rather dull. But now that I’ve met you I can say that it is definitely looking up,’ I told him.

  “’Blanca was it?’ he inquired as he took yet another swig of beer. ‘I’m happy for you but I’m really not in the mood for company at the moment.

  “I said to him, ‘Well Kenneth, I can tell that you need some fun. Something is obviously bothering you and how can you say no to the birthday girl? Come on I’ll let you buy me a drink since I’m too young. And who knows? After I finish showing you a good time, just maybe you won’t remember what was bothering you in the first place.’

  “At the end of the night, Kenneth and I had downed so many drinks I could not even remember how old I was. That was the beginning of a year-long affair.”

  My mother gazed off into the distance after her last statement, sighed, and then continued.

  “Oh Emeri, It was everything you could possibly imagine - passionate, understanding, loving, free.”

  I had never seen my mama this way before. It is as if talking about my father took 20 years off her. I could almost see the young girl that she must have been.

  “Your dad used to come back and see me often. He lived in Maryland, you know. I knew he was married, but I was young and in love, I didn’t care. Until one weekend, I think, I had not heard from Kenneth for about a month, I decided that I was going to pay him a little visit, so I took a trip down to Maryland and went to his job to see him. Do you know he refused to see me?”

  Her voice was beginning to waver and the tears, that had threatened to fall at first, are long gone replaced with a look that can only be described as fierce.

  “So I waited and followed him home and he was greeted at the front door by his wife and his two-year-old daughter. I was disgusted with the whole situation. Here, I finally got to see my competition and I couldn’t even blame him. He had a beautiful wife and his daughter was as cute as a button. I was more upset with myself than with him.”

  So as you can imagine I’m sitting in my car observing this happy family reunion when it starts to dawn on me why should I let him have his cake and eat it too. I will never forget his reaction.”

  “As he and his family entered into the house, I could believe what I witnessed. How dare he not contact me in over a month and then refuse to see me after I drove all the way to Accokeek, Maryland. Who did he think he was?

  “I jumped out of my car and sprinted to the front door. I banged on the door with all my might. He had some nerve. Kenneth opens the door. When he saw me standing there, his face registered one of shock.

  ‘Blanca, what the hell are you doing here?’ he asked. ’How dare you not call me in over a month? You have no idea what’s been going on with me because you do not return my calls.’ I shouted at him. He responded with ‘Woman, are you crazy? This is my house where my wife and child stay. You have overstepped your boundaries and need to leave.’”

  “I told him that I was not going anywhere until he knew what was going on with me. ‘You had the nerve to get me pregnant and now you just want me to leave. Hell no. You will talk to me’ I continued to yell at him.”

  “’You’re what?’ he said in disbelief. I kept shouting ’I’m sorry Kenneth, are you hard of hearing all of a sudden? I’m pregnant!’”

  “He calmly said to me ‘Hey Blanca, calm down. I had no idea.’”

  “I started to cry and with tears streaming down my face, I told him he wouldn’t have an idea I was pregnant and asked why he wouldn’t return my phone calls. ‘What did I do?’ I remember screaming at him.”

  “I remember his gaze softening as he spoke to me. ’Blanca you didn’t do anything. It is just that my wife and I have decided to try to get back on track and I wanted to give it my all. This means I had to let you go.’”

  “’You could have called me and said something, anything. I have never been so scared in my life. I have not told anyone that I am pregnant. My mother is probably going to kill me when she finds out.’ I protested. He respondss by saying, ’Blanca, I promise that I will take care of you and the baby. I will give you anything that you need at any time, but just promise me you will not tell my wife. I really want our relationship to work.’

  “I looked him dead in his eyes and knew that he meant it. Gone was that look that he had when I first met him. He did not need me any longer. I could see that. He had his family.

  “The last thing I said to him that day was, ‘I’m sorry that I came. This was a mistake. I hope that you and your wife are able to work out your differences.’”

  She looked at me then and said, “That was the last time I ever saw your dad. He called me once to check and see how I was doing, and to see how the pregnancy was coming along. I told him that I miscarried so he was off the hook. I never heard from him again after that.”

  I look up at her, “So you’re saying that my father doesn’t even know that I exist?”

  “That’s what I am saying to you.”

  “Mama why now? Why tell me at all?”

  “Because baby, it’s not fair that I have kept you to myself all these years. Rea
lity is reality. I will not be here that much longer, and I do not want you to be alone, not when you do not have to be. Give your dad a chance; he is the innocent here. I thought I was doing the right thing by letting him live his life in peace, but that was never fair to you. The decision is yours,” she says as she lays back and closes her eyes. I can tell that she is getting tired again. I move the photos and papers off her bed and put them back in the trunk.

  I do not know what to think any more. I have a father that knows nothing about me out there, but I also have a sick mother here in front of me right now that needs me. I will worry about the rest later. I look down at my mother’s face and allow my tears to fall. I never let her see me cry. I am trying to be strong for the both of us. We will have to take it one day at a time. I never realized the importance of a minute until now. I lean down to place a kiss on my Mama’s forehead and silently leave the room.

  Naima 8

  I open my eyes slowly to the sound of peace and quiet, and what smells like homemade apple pie baking. I slowly smile as I welcome the change that has taken place in my life. It has been two weeks since we moved into my parent’s home. Two weeks of waking up to quiet, and each time it feels better than the last.

  My mom has been such an extreme help. I can tell that she loves having her grandchildren here. She has been known to be up at the crack of dawn, fixing a gigantic breakfast. I keep asking her who she is trying to feed…an army?

  I glance at the clock and cannot believe that it is past 1 o’clock on a Saturday afternoon. I really am relaxing on my motherly duties. I need to get up and get it together. Plus my mouth is watering. I want some pie!

  “Hey Ma!” I say when I finally go downstairs and enter the kitchen, after taking a nice long bubble bath.

  “Hey baby,” she says as she leans her head in for the kiss I place on her cheek. “Did you enjoy your rest?”

  “I sure did,” I tell her. “But Ma you have really got to stop letting me do that. I do not want the children to be a burden on you. They are my responsibility.”