Body By Night

by Day, Zuri

  The rest of D’Andra’s shift went by in a blur and before she knew it, it was a quarter to seven. She seriously considered not going to Val’s room, but that act felt cowardly even with her hurting. She decided to just pop her head in, say hello, and then use having to clock out as an excuse to not stay long. After five more minutes she gathered her courage, walked down the hall and peered around the door into Val’s room.

  Val was awake, alert and watching television. She turned her head almost before D’Andra’s face was barely visible. “There’s my angel! Girl, you had me worried about my favorite nurse in all the world. Now come on in here and tell me how your mama’s doing.”

  D’Andra willed herself calm and dared her eyes to shed a tear. “I just stopped by to say hi,” she said quickly, before the dam burst again. “Sorry but I was really busy tonight. I’ll see you later, Miss Val.”

  “But baby, I’ve got something for you, something I made.”

  Whatever she had would have to wait. D’Andra fairly ran down the hall, to the clock out center and then to her car, forgetting all about sharing her burden with Elaine.

  30

  She wouldn’t be able to run away from Night as easy. Seeing his GMC as she purposely passed instead of turned down her street, she circled the block and entered the alley to her garage from behind the building. Cautiously she walked to the elevator, being careful not to be seen through the large paned windows.

  Once inside her apartment, she peeled off her clothes and headed straight for the shower. She ran the water as hot as she could stand it and then stepped into the stall. More tears flowed as she tried to wash away the events of the past twenty-four hours and the questions that entered her mind and refused to leave. Why had she kept asking about her father? Why had she insisted on knowing his name? Why had her mother had a heart attack now, just when things between her and Night were perfect. D’Andra was convinced that if her mother hadn’t gotten sick, this ugly truth would probably have never gotten out. Some people said that what you don’t know can’t hurt you, D’Andra thought snidely. No, but it can kill you. Of that, D’Andra had no doubt. Because a part of her spirit died at the mere thought of a life without Night in it.

  D’Andra stayed in the shower until the water cooled and then stepped out and toweled herself dry. After quickly spreading cocoa butter lotion over her skin, she walked naked to her bedroom, ready to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head, and hide herself from her own reality. But it was not to be. She almost jumped fifty feet when she walked into her bedroom and found that she was not alone.

  “Night! How…how did you get in here?”

  “You gave me a key, remember?”

  Belatedly, D’Andra remembered giving Night her extra key the morning the furniture store had called to say they were delivering her living room furniture. D’Andra had had a doctor’s appointment on the other side of town and couldn’t be there to let the men in. She’d never even thought to ask for the key back. Now, she wished she had.

  “Why are you avoiding me?”

  “I wasn’t. I mean I’m not. I was busy last night and left my phone on silent and—”

  “Didn’t you see me when you passed by the street and circled around to the back of the apartment? Isn’t that why you were trying to hug the wall like a shadow when you walked to the elevator, hoping that I wouldn’t see you? What’s going on, D’Andra?”

  D’Andra felt as naked emotionally as she was physically. Suddenly she became aware of her nudity and reached into her closet for a bathrobe. All the while she was trying to concoct some kind of believable story. But D’Andra had always been horrible at making up stories. In the end, she was simply too drained emotionally and physically to lie. She knew this truth would be the end of her fairy tale romance. Mary’s confession had already cut out part of her heart. She figured she may as well give Night the information needed to finish the job.

  She walked across the room, as far away from him as she could get, and took a seat on the floor. With her head down, she recounted the story as she had heard it. Her voice faltered a couple times and at times she wondered if she could actually utter the words about her mother’s complicity in Night’s mother’s miscarriage. But she did.

  Night sat still and quiet as D’Andra talked, his expression going from concern, to confusion to something unreadable. At one point, D’Andra wondered if Night truly understood what she was saying, how her story affected them. When she finished, she repeated the most important part.

  “Your stepfather, Carter Johnson, is my biological dad.”

  Night continued to sit quietly for several minutes, his chin resting on his closed fist, his brow creased in concentration. D’Andra stared at him silently and watched his love for her ooze out of the room.

  “Do you hate my mother now?” D’Andra asked, eerily similar to the question Mary had asked regarding D’Andra’s feelings for her.

  It seemed another eternity before Night spoke. He didn’t look at her. “I don’t know what I’m feeling right now, to be honest with you. Never in a million years could I have imagined this story.”

  “Your mother never said anything about it?”

  “I knew she’d lost a child, the little girl who would have been my sister.” Night cut a quick glance in D’Andra’s direction. “But I never knew why.”

  D’Andra dared to approach the bed. She sat down next to Night and lay a shaky hand on his thigh. The gesture she’d done on countless occasions now seemed foreign, invasive. Night was stiff as a board.

  “If your mother was with so many men, how is she so sure Carter’s your father?”

  “She seems very sure, but I guess there’s always the possibility that he’s not.” For the first time in her life D’Andra found herself hoping someone was not her father. “We should do a paternity test,” she continued. “If your stepfather, if Carter is willing.”

  Night rose from the bed. “I need to go see my mother.”

  “Are you going to tell her what I’ve shared?”

  “Of course,” Night said, a little too forcibly.

  “Do you think she’ll tell my, my father?”

  Night looked at D’Andra then, really looked at her for the first time since he entered the apartment. Now he saw the paleness underneath her flushed cheeks, took in the bloodshot eyes, swollen from crying. He imagined the lone, lost girl who for years had searched for the other part of who she was and the mixed emotions she must be experiencing now that she’d found him. He knew the story she’d relayed to him wasn’t her fault, but he couldn’t help that his feelings toward her had shifted.

  “I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” he offered. “I can’t imagine how you feel.”

  “And I can’t imagine how you feel,” she replied.

  “I’ll call you later,” he said as he walked out of the bedroom toward the front door.

  He hugged her briefly. Not the deep, all encompassing, breath-taking hugs he usually gave upon their parting, but a see-you-later-bye hug, an it’s-been-good-knowing-you hug. There was no kiss. And then he was gone.

  D’Andra stared at the closed door for long moments after he’d gone. She was all out of tears but stood, breathing deeply, trying to catch breath that suddenly seemed in short supply. She felt herself getting light-headed and quickly sat on the sofa. She knew her pressure was rising, and she practiced the breathing exercises she’d learned to restore some semblance of calm.

  When she was able, she got up from the couch, walked into her bedroom, closed the blinds, turned off her phones, slipped off her robe and slid under the covers. She pulled the downy comforter over her head, pulled herself into a fetal position. All her life she’d wanted to know who her father was. Now she knew. But would the knowledge she gained be worth what it had cost her?

  31

  Night’s heart was heavy as he walked toward his mother’s room. He replayed the story D’Andra shared over and over in his head, as he drove from her apartment to the hospital.
At once he was angry, hurt, confused and sad. He’d thought that Jazz was the love of his life but he knew D’Andra was. But how could his love survive what she’d told him? Her mother had caused his mother to lose a child, his sister? How did a love, no matter how great, get beyond that?”

  He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, put a smile on his face and entered Val’s room.

  “Hey, Mom,” he said, placing a kiss on her forehead. “You look good today.”

  “I wish I could say the same about you, son. If I didn’t know better I’d say you just lost your best friend.”

  “Who, me?” He said this even though he wasn’t surprised at his mother’s perceptiveness. She’d been reading his mind since the day he was born; in fact nothing much anybody did got past her.

  “Does this have something to do with why D’Andra ran away from me this morning? Barely poked her head in the doorway as if I had the plague.”

  Night dropped the façade and slouched into the chair next to his mother’s bed. “There’s no fooling you, Mom,” he said with more than a hint of admiration mixed with sadness. “You’re not going to believe what I have to tell you.”

  Val listened intently, not revealing the shock that Night had been expecting or that she was feeling. That sweet, thoughtful girl who’d stopped by to see her every night since she’d come to Heavenly Haven was Mary Smalls’ daughter. How could an angel be born from such a devil?

  “Can you believe it, Mom? Can you believe the woman I love might be the daughter of someone who could have done something so awful?”

  “It’s hard to believe, son,” Val admitted. “Lord, I haven’t thought about that whole incident for a long, long time. I’ve often thought about the daughter I carried, but not about the ugly incidents surrounding her leaving.

  “I forgave Mary Smalls a long time ago,” she continued. “But I guess forgiving isn’t forgetting.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she looked far back into a distant past. She didn’t like what she saw, or the feelings that stirred from those memories. She shook her head to rid herself of the picture that had sprung up as clear as day: Mary and Val scuffling in front of the grocery store. She remembered her bag busted: all of the items tumbled to the pavement, a bottle of vinegar dropped and shattered and oranges rolled everywhere.

  And then it was Val who went rolling, after she and Mary had fallen off the curb and onto the ground. Val landed hard on her five months pregnant stomach; the pain was immediate and intense. She remembered grabbing her stomach and looking up into Mary’s face with a look of shear panic.

  “Call the ambulance. I think you hurt my baby!”

  Mary said absolutely nothing; simply turned and walked away. A couple who’d witnessed the incident stepped in to help. They drove her to the hospital and the husband called Carter. They hoped against hope that no damage had been done but she ultimately lost the baby. Val shared none of this with her already miserable son. She saw no need to add to his hurt; one look at him and she saw the pain he felt written all over his face.

  “What are you going to do, son?” she asked softly.

  Night shrugged. “Don’t know.” He looked at his mother a long moment. “What are you going to do? And how are we going to tell Carter?”

  “Tell Carter what?”

  Both Night and Val looked up as Carter walked into the room. He was carrying Val’s favorite cinnamon rolls, a container of orange juice and the morning paper. He placed the items on a table and walked over to kiss his wife on the forehead, much like Night had done.

  “Tell me what?” he repeated.

  “Sit down,” Val sighed.

  Carter looked from Night’s anguished face to Val’s drawn expression. His heartbeat quickened as he braced for bad news. “Tell me, Val. I can hear just fine standing.”

  Val’s expression softened as she drank in the vision of the strong, good-hearted man she’d met and fell in love with twenty-one years ago. Even in discomfort, he formed a formidable and distinguished picture.

  “Give me one of those cinnamon rolls and have a seat, Carter Johnson,” she said with a comfort level that only comes with true intimacy. “And trust me when I tell you…you’re going to want to be sitting down for this.”

  D’Andra awoke in the late afternoon. Her head ached and she felt a wave of anxiety, as if she’d had a very bad dream. And then it hit her. The nightmare had occurred during her waking hours and it was in sleeping she’d escaped.

  D’Andra fell back against her pillows, wishing she never had to leave the cocoon of her bedroom, that somehow if she stayed isolated long enough she would come out and find that in her absence the world as she’d known it had righted itself.

  But she didn’t have time for wishful thinking. She’d agreed to take a co-worker’s Saturday shift and there was much to do beforehand. She had errands to run, wanted to visit her mother, hoped Elaine could come to work a little early so they could talk and, more than anything, she wanted to be with Night. With that thought, she reached for her cell phone sitting in its charger on the nightstand. She tried to keep down the hopes that there’d be a message from him, but she couldn’t help it. She wished fervently that Night had called her and told his doll that everything between them was okay.

  He hadn’t. She had no messages. And while showering, fixing a bite to eat and preparing to leave her apartment she tried to tell herself it didn’t matter, that he was just getting over the shock of her unexpected news, but she couldn’t quell the deep sense of foreboding that in gaining a father, she’d lost his son.

  The more D’Andra thought about Night leaving her, the more real the possibility became. By the time she prepared to leave the house, their break-up was as good as final in her mind. She determined that she would take the alone time to keep working on herself and her health and that instead of taking the online class, she’d go back to school and get a degree in nutrition, as she had first planned.

  That’s it, D’Andra thought. I don’t need a man in my life to be fulfilled. If Night makes a decision to leave, I’m not going to go begging for him to stay. If he’s going to blame me for what my mother did, then maybe he isn’t the man I thought he was after all.

  Her home phone rang just as she was preparing to lock the front door. Hoping it was Night she dashed back into the living room and caught the call on the third ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Dee, Nelly.”

  “Oh, hi girl.”

  “Well don’t act so happy to hear from me.”

  “It’s not that. I thought you were Night calling.”

  “I’m so happy for you, that you found a good man, one who isn’t bullshit like Charles was.”

  D’Andra remained silent. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t shed another tear.

  “Dee, you there?”

  “Look, I need to go.”

  “Dee, what’s wrong? What’s going on with you and Night?”

  “Did I say anything was going on?”

  “This is your girl you’re talking to, you didn’t have to. Now, do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, will you tell me if y’all are still together at least?”

  “I hope so,” D’Andra responded softly.

  “Look, I don’t know what happened or who did what or whatever, but take it from a friend who’s been single for far too long. From all you’ve told me and the little I’ve seen your man is one in a million. Men like him don’t come along everyday. And honestly watching you two interact at the hospital—I’ve never seen you this happy. So I don’t care whatever it is that has y’all trippin’, it isn’t worth throwing away a good relationship over.

  “When you saw Charles in my room that night, you ran away without asking for an explanation, giving your opinion, or entertaining discussion. I understand your reaction. But don’t do that this time. Anything keeping is worth fighting for. Don’t run, D’Andra.”

  She’s right, D’Andra thought as sh
e navigated rush hour traffic on the way to MLK Hospital. I need to know exactly what Night is thinking. She dialed his number and got voice mail.

  “No problem,” she said aloud as she waited for his outgoing message to end. “I’ll just leave my message at the sound of the beep.”

  Carter sat with arms crossed, unconsciously shielding himself from a past he’d hoped was dead and buried. Of course, he and Valerie had talked long ago about Mary Smalls and her brief obsession with all things Carter. He’d assured Val that although at one point Mary meant something to him, that was long ago. Val was the only one for him and that was the end of it. What Val didn’t know was that after she lost the baby, Carter paid a visit to Mary and literally threatened her life. He told her that he wasn’t a violent man, and he believed in God and hell, but if she ever came near his wife again, or tried to contact him again, it would be the last thing she did on this earth. It wasn’t his proudest moment, but he had no regrets. That’s why the harassment stopped, and that’s when he and Val went on with what, until today, had been a relatively peaceful, predictable life, just the way he wanted.

  “I wonder why Mary would tell her daughter this story,” Carter pondered, almost to himself. He looked up at Night. “And then why would she come and tell you?”

  She wouldn’t, she couldn’t, Carter thought. Surely Mary wouldn’t try something like this after all these years.

  This is the hard part. “She was avoiding me and I forced her to tell me why. But in the end that isn’t the only reason,” he looked at Val, “and Mom, I didn’t have a chance to tell you this before Carter came in but the main reason she felt she had to tell me was because—”

  “She thinks I’m her daddy,” Carter finished.

  This time, Valerie was the one surprised. “I thought you said you didn’t have children, Carter.”

  Carter set his jaw with the determination of a man who would not be moved. “I don’t.”