Somewhat Saved

by Pat G'Orge-Walker

  Miss Diaz, seeing how distraught Zipporah remained, handed several sheets of paper to Chandler. “I must return to my office on the second floor, social services division. If you should need me before I return, just call.” She handed Chandler her business card and explained the next steps he should take.

  Every word Miss Diaz had spoken sounded like background noise to Zipporah. If she didn’t wake from this nightmare, she would scream. Zipporah didn’t notice when Miss Diaz had stopped talking. She barely remembered Bea and Chandler literally lifting her from the chair and walking her to Jasper’s hospital room.

  Chandler walked away and returned moments later to give Zipporah a cup of water. He watched her sip from the plastic cup and then took her hand and squeezed it.

  All the while neither Sister Betty nor Sasha had said a word. If Chandler or Bea noticed that Sister Betty and Sasha held hands as they walked, they said nothing.

  Sasha and Sister Betty were praying. They dropped back a little from the others as they walked to Jasper’s room. It was Sasha who had suggested they pray. Sister Betty agreed and together the most unlikely of old church women walked together, praying their most unselfish of prayers. They were praying for Zipporah.

  Again, they thought about how Zipporah had been in their lives barely a week. And already she’d become the common thread that wove the blanket of love now covering them.

  Although she’d drunk the water and walked down the corridor, her mind was still clouded. Standing in front of Jasper’s hospital room, Zipporah began to mutter, showing that she was beginning to come around. She then stood for a few moments, staring at the door to the outer room, as though it should open automatically.

  “You want me to go inside with you?” Chandler asked. He’d never been comfortable with the dead and funerals were occasions he tried to avoid when he could. And yet, he’d have gone in her place had she asked him.

  “I’ll do it,” Zipporah said before entering cautiously into the small preparation area that led into Jasper’s room.

  Zipporah was surprised at how quickly she’d calmed down. There was no reason to continue the self-exiled state her mind had escaped to a short time ago. She’d accepted her father’s death, in her own way, but among all the questions she needed answered, suddenly only strange ones entered her mind.

  Was she supposed to put on one of the sterile yellow gauze gowns still clinging to the hook? Did she need to wear the plastic gloves? Looking through the narrow venetian blinds that covered the door window into his room, she could see his outline. What was she supposed to do while looking at the body of the man she’d just discovered was her father? What could they have shared in less than twenty-four hours that would offer her the peace she needed?

  Zipporah decided that she would put on everything she’d worn earlier when she’d seen her father for the first time. She didn’t know why but she closed the venetian blinds completely once she entered Jasper’s room.

  The first thing she noticed was the sounds. There were none. No beeps, no whirring, no alarms, no bells or whistles. Nothing but complete silence occupied a room where life once had. In fact, all the equipment that had struggled against all odds to keep him alive was already gone.

  Zipporah cautiously crept to the side of the bed, as if she’d wake him if she didn’t. Someone had already wrapped a sheet tightly around him as though they’d tucked in a sleeping child. The sheet also covered his head, leaving only his face exposed.

  Zipporah reached for a nearby chair and sat down by his bed. There was a small space by his knee where the sheet hadn’t been tucked in tight, so she reached over and pushed it in.

  Zipporah fought the urge to cry. Jasper had a sheet covering him in his death. Where were the sheets she needed in her life?

  All the things she’d wanted to come back to say to him suddenly began to flood from her mouth. They weren’t as much angry words as they were just questions. She didn’t expect answers but she had to ask anyway.

  “Jasper,” Zipporah whispered as though she’d only wanted him to hear, “you have a sheet covering you, but over the years whenever the internal need for your paternal covers arose, there were none to cover me, no fitted sheet of fatherly love, no flat sheets of warmth, and no blanket of protection and respect.”

  Zipporah rose from her seat and leaned in closer to Jasper. She gently poked at one cheek and noticed, for the first time, that his mouth was still wide open. He looked like he wanted to answer, and Zipporah found herself shushing him so she could continue.

  “I was left to lie naked on this worldly bed covered instead with a fitted sheet of secondhand love, often bought on sale and overpriced. I needed it, so I paid using my body as currency.”

  “Visiting hours in the ICU unit will be over in ten minutes.” It was the announcement over the loudspeaker that again dictated how much time she had to spend with Jasper. Once more, she was at time’s mercy. Zipporah strolled to the foot of Jasper’s bed, finding another small place where the sheet had not been properly tucked in.

  She continued speaking, fighting to keep deep-rooted anger from turning her sharp words of reproach into knives, “I had to settle for the flat sheets of warmth. They, too, often came with a price far beyond my means. It was a mental struggle, Jasper. But I worked through a hellish existence every day to pay for it. I fought with every fiber I had to keep it, though I knew its fabric consisted of never-meant-to-be-kept promises and unreliable threads of moral heat.”

  Zipporah surrendered to the anger. “That’s right, Jasper. Your little girl might as well have been a whore, because I was tossing it out the front and back door just to hear the word love.”

  Zipporah pounded the bed, just barely missing one of Jasper’s elbows, which lay crosswise over his chest. There was no stopping her. By then she didn’t care who heard her outside or inside that room, she wanted Jasper to know what his negligence had done to her.

  “Knowing I had no blanket of protection and respect of my own, when the harsh cold winters of truth came, I needed and accepted sold as is, discounted protection and respect.” She stopped and pointed at him, adding, “Did you know its warranties often expired before the dawn came?” She circled the bed and checked for any signs of the sheet becoming undone before continuing. “Miss Diaz, she’s the social worker here at the hospital, Jasper, in case the two of you hadn’t met. Anyway, she says that around the same time I fainted back at the hotel, you’d suffered a massive heart attack and died.”

  Zipporah didn’t mean to do it but suddenly she put her hands on Jasper and started shaking him, almost violently. “Were you thinking of me? Did you somehow get a clue how totally uncovered I was?”

  Zipporah’s body froze. What had she done? Her shaking Jasper had caused the sheet to become undone and his arms now lay by his sides. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” She wasn’t so concerned with stopping the tears that were surely coming as she was with apologizing to her father. Zipporah cradled Jasper’s head, feeling the softness of his hair, now lying exposed where the sheet had fallen away.

  “I’m sorry. I know you tried to find me. But I’m still hurt and angry. You were supposed to spend all that time loving me instead of looking for me. I should’ve said something before and I didn’t. But I make you a promise now.”

  It wasn’t a flood of tears but more like small droplets, and they almost ran onto Jasper’s face. Zipporah moved so they wouldn’t, but she didn’t let go of him. “I’m making you a promise,” she continued. “I want you to know this; also buried with you, so that you won’t be cold during your sleep, will be my blanket of undying, unspoken love and respect. I can give that to you because I’ve managed to find and hopefully to keep a real love.”

  Zipporah touched the body. It was still warm and the skin on his face pliable. She kissed his forehead. “Rest in peace, Dad.” And though she’d never share what she saw next, she’d never forget it. Jasper’s gaping mouth seemed to turn into a smile, or so she imagined....

  51r />
  As Jasper had requested, his remains were flown back to Belton, South Carolina, which wasn’t too far from Pelzer. So it’d been up to Zipporah to decide whether or not she’d accompany her father’s body. It surprised no one that she did. She’d barely slept or eaten since finally allowing the morgue to retrieve Jasper’s body from his room. The attendants almost had to bring Zipporah down to the morgue with Jasper. She wouldn’t let go of his body. She fought them with every bit of Epps and Hellraiser strength she possessed.

  Surprisingly, neither Bea nor Sasha seemed disappointed they’d have to miss the Mothers Board election. While they were on the plane returning home the election was being held back in Las Vegas. As for Sister Betty, she was just happy to be back home.

  A waiting limousine picked them up at the Greenville-Spartanburg Airport. Sister Betty insisted Zipporah stay with her and Chandler stay at his grandmother Ma Cile’s house, which was only two doors away from Sister Betty’s home. If he was needed, he wouldn’t be far away.

  As they drove along highway 85, Zipporah took note of the countryside and how it was so calm and different from Las Vegas. She was blocking out most of the polite chitchat among Chandler and the others, preferring to watch the moving scenery. Finally, she turned when she heard Chandler speaking directly to her.

  “Zipporah, are you okay?” He knew it was a stupid question and one he seemed to ask every few minutes. This was all new to him. He didn’t like death and funerals. And he wasn’t really sure if he was just her manager or becoming something more. Had it already progressed to that level? “Just let me know if you need something,” he added.

  “I’m fine, Chandler,” Zipporah replied, and winked. What would she have done if he hadn’t been there for her? She’d met him while looking for a job and now she’d become his job. The term life-changing had taken on a whole new meaning to her.

  As usual Chandler had stepped up to the plate and taken care of everything for Zipporah. He’d talked to Jasper’s attorney the day after Jasper died because she was still inconsolable. Between him and the attorney, all the necessary paperwork was completed, and funeral arrangements were made.

  Jasper’s death had made Chandler think about his grandmother, Ma Cile. He hadn’t told Zipporah but the speed with which everything had happened over the past week or so had only made him more determined to see Ma Cile. Not that he would’ve returned to Pelzer and not seen her. Whether the stroke would allow her to communicate or not, he intended to see his grandmother. He looked over at Sister Betty and remembered how close she and Ma Cile were. Between his godmother and his grandmother, they’d taken him to church more often than he would’ve liked, but it did help him to become the man he was. And his grandmother, she dipped her snuff, which made her act crazy at times, and she’d put a switch to his behind more times than the present law allowed. Even so, he loved Ma Cile more than life. Whatever he had to say to her, he meant to say on this side of the grave.

  Zipporah stared at Chandler and as was her habit sometimes, she forced a smile. Back in Las Vegas, she had been a little miffed with Chandler and Sasha when they’d finally told her about Jasper’s wealth and her mother, Areal. It wasn’t the money or the fact that she had a birth mother that was alive and still didn’t want to be in her life; it was more the fact that, again, someone had held out on her. She’d grown tired of being a puppet. She fussed so much that they’d promised to never withhold anything again, no matter how good or bad it was.

  Zipporah felt a touch on her hand. Of course, it was Bea. Despite her rough exterior and her curved spine the woman had nothing but straight-up unconditional love. Without judging, Bea had shown more love toward her than anyone she’d ever met, except Chandler.

  Bea squeezed Zipporah’s hand again. “I’m here for you, sweetie. That’s what godmothers are for.” Bea let out a small giggle hoping it was not too inappropriate.

  “And, I’m so happy you agreed to be my godmother.” Zipporah smiled. She truly was. She’d seen how close Sister Betty and Chandler were—godmother and godson. She admired that. Bea had shown that same closeness to her and didn’t have a title or a good reason. At the airport Zipporah had asked her if she’d consider being her godmother. Bea had almost done a church dance after saying yes. Zipporah could tell it’d meant more to Bea than money. An ecstatic Bea had confirmed it by telling anyone who’d listen or couldn’t get out of earshot, including flight attendants and the pilot, that she was Zipporah’s godmother.

  The limo dropped Bea off first and then Sasha. Sister Betty lived in another part of Pelzer that was more upscale. Zipporah was amazed at the mansions and their well-kept acres of lawn. And when the limo finally pulled into the winding driveway to Sister Betty’s house, Zipporah’s mouth dropped open. She’d have never thought Sister Betty lived so richly, even though she knew she had money. The old woman was so modest in apparel and her demeanor. Zipporah’s respect level for Sister Betty rose.

  “Are you coming inside, June Bug?” Sister Betty asked and yawned. Again, she hadn’t realized just how exhausted she was.

  “No, Ma’am,” Chandler answered. He’d almost gotten used to the fact that he’d always be her little June Bug no matter how much of a man he’d become. “We have to meet with the funeral director.” His eyebrows arched in surprise when he realized a look of concern suddenly spread across Sister Betty’s face. His first thought was that his own must’ve looked like he was in pain at the mere thought of going to a funeral parlor.

  “You don’t have to be involved in everything,” Sister Betty said to Chandler. She knew he didn’t like funerals. “I can handle things with Zipporah.”

  “You should get some sleep,” Zipporah added. She wasn’t sure what the problem was, but Chandler looked like he was about to throw up.

  “No, I’ll go with you.” Chandler stifled a desire to yawn and hold her both at the same time. He looked away and kicked at a pebble much like a shy kid would. At the first opportunity he was going to have to find a way to get his mind, and his heart, in check. Certainly, each was out of control.

  “Okay, June Bug.” Sister Betty turned to let the limo driver inside the gate so he could take her luggage to the house. “I’ll go on inside and rest up. You two go ahead and take care of things, but you make sure you don’t wear Zipporah out.”

  Chandler smiled. He knew exactly what Sister Betty hinted at. Translation: Bring Zipporah right back here and don’t even think about taking her back to Ma Cile’s empty house.

  Chandler shook his head and laughed as he led Zipporah back to the limo. With the way those old women were circling Zipporah’s beautiful “wagon,” he’d never get a chance to ride, even if he wanted.

  And he did.

  52

  Jasper had done more to make things run smoothly in his death than he had in life. There wasn’t one stone left unturned. The trip to the funeral home had been a formality. Zipporah signed a few papers and that was all. He’d planned his entire funeral including the casket, flowers, and guest list. He’d even chosen the preachers. Jasper had wanted two just to cover his bases.

  Apparently, by the time Jasper’s attorney had left Las Vegas, the legal wheel had already started turning. He gave Zipporah power of attorney. Chandler had been amazed at the simplicity of the matter. Long before he’d returned to Las Vegas determined to meet her Jasper had made sure Zipporah was declared the executor of his estate. According to the attorney, Jasper had filed all the necessary papers as soon as the private investigator confirmed Zipporah was indeed his natural child.

  Jasper had made certain that neither Areal nor even his other daughter, Ima, could touch his estate. But he wasn’t completely cold-hearted toward Ima. He’d left it up to Zipporah whether or not to share with her sister. Unlike Zipporah, he’d not declared, confirmed, or even legally made Ima his child. But he did believe that it would make Ima more loving toward her sister if she knew Zipporah controlled the purse strings, at least that’s the reason he’d given his attorney. Clear
ly, in keeping track of his two daughters, Jasper had found Zipporah to be the most deserving.

  On the morning of Jasper’s funeral, held at his old church, Financial Temple, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was as though Jasper was still running things, or God had truly forgiven him. And apparently most of the congregation had also. They turned out three deep just to take a look at the celebrity who was once a member.

  Zipporah had almost forgotten that her father had not only been a rich man but also quite the superstar. The gospel world had turned out in full force. Many of them did not know Jasper personally but were familiar with his music and his incredible talent for songwriting. There were a few who’d shared the stage with him when he’d sung with Sasha and Areal many years ago.

  Huge floral sprays of gladiolas, snapdragons, carnations, daisy poms, lilies and tree ferns adorned the entire pulpit. Jasper had requested his gold and bronze casket be place front and center. Many of his old songs were played through the church’s sound system; he didn’t want a choir messing up his music. He’d even planned the menu for the after-burial repast.

  Jasper hadn’t wanted anything long and boring so he’d planned his viewing and funeral, one to follow the other, with a bit of entertainment in between to add levity to the occasion.

  Specifically, he’d requested a well-known Christian comedian by the name of Brotha Smitty out of Manhattan to give a fifteen-minute laugh fest. Brotha Smitty, a dark-skinned, rotund man in his forties, brought the house down in laughter when he’d threatened that if folks didn’t laugh they’d have to carry him around. Folks took one look at Brotha Smitty’s four-hundred pounds and laughed until they’d cried. In fact, many had cried so much there weren’t too many tears left for Jasper.