I looked away.
Mrs. Colten walked over and greeted him with a hug. “I thought you were dead up there.”
She was just talking, but oh, how I wished that it was so.
“No, I had some calls to make.” He glanced over the room. “I had some things I had to line up.” He walked over to his mother, Grandma Hall, and started a conversation.
As good as the food looked and smelled, I had no appetite. If I could have requested one thing to eat, it would have been invisible ink. As long as Norman was in the room, I didn’t want to be there.
Tremel was talking to me, and I didn’t have a clue about what he was saying. All I could think about was how unbelievable this whole thing was—Norman and I were in the same house for Thanksgiving.
“Uncle Norm,” Mel shouted above the noise and gestured for Norman to come our way.
I turned to him sharply. “What are you doing?”
“I want you to meet my uncle,” he said with a smile. “Don’t tell me you’re still scared.”
“No, but I’ve just met so many people, I can’t remember any names.” I tried to sound upbeat. “You have a huge family. Give me a minute. We’re here until Sunday.”
It was too late. Norman was already walking toward us with a stupid grin from ear to ear.
Mel stood, and they slapped hands again.
I pretended to be looking elsewhere, while they talked about the football game. Moments later, Norman initiated the introduction. “This must be the young lady you were telling me about?”
“Yes, this is Sarai.” Tremel looked down at me and rubbed my arm. “Sarai, this is my Uncle Norman.”
I turned around in my seat and offered him a half-smile. “Hello.”
“Sarai, huh?” He reached his hand out to me.
“Yes.” I wanted to slap his hand, but I took it.
“Man, you look like someone I know,” he said.
“Oh really?” I couldn’t read his expressions. I didn’t know what he was going to say next.
“Yeah”—He kissed my knuckles—“but you’re a lot better-looking.”
Mel grabbed my hand from his uncle’s. “All right, all right. Enough of that,” he joked. “You’re in a world of trouble, as it is.”
“You know how I do it.” Norman laughed and walked away.
I used my time during dinner to get to know Mel’s siblings. They were all very smart, laid-back, friendly, and polite. I felt as though I was having dinner with Sandra, Denise, Theo, Vanessa, and Rudy. They made me feel welcome, not like the outsider I thought I’d be.
I managed to eat a full plate of food. I figured that if I didn’t eat, Mrs. Colten might be offended.
I kept a watchful eye on Norman, because he was throwing back drinks quickly. I was concerned about him turning into a babbling idiot.
After dinner, the banquet tables were folded down and the stereo turned on. It was dance party time, and the children were first on the floor. And whom did they take with them?—Grandpa Colten.
Keith Colten, eighty-five years old, had been a church deacon and trustee for forty-seven years. Tremel had talked about him so much that meeting him felt weird. It was like I had met him months ago. It seemed we all had gone bass fishing in Lake Eerie together. I imagined him reading stories from the books of the Bible, and I pictured him teaching Tremel how to ride a bike.
Grandpa Colten was stepping big on the floor with his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. It was a sight to see. All eyes were on him as the music played.
We all laughed, clapped, screamed, and then panicked when we realized that after ten minutes of dancing, Grandpa wasn’t showing us a new move. His eyes protruded from his skull. He grabbed his chest and fell to his knees, then forward to the ground. The house was in hysteria. Anyone that had breath in their body was screaming.
I couldn’t recall who, but someone had enough sense to call 911. The paramedics were there quickly, and as they left with the patient in the ambulance, we all followed in our crowded cars. We forgot anything rational and burst through red lights, expecting traffic to adjust to our situation.
The Colten and Hall families filled the emergency area and were relocated to a private waiting room. There were about twenty chairs in the room, magazines, and a television tuned to Cartoon Network, but even the kids weren’t interested. They wanted to know what happened to Granddaddy.
Tremel sat next to me in a chair and buried his head in his hands, while I rubbed his back.
Hour after hour went by. Sometimes we laughed, but the majority of the time, we just stared blankly at something, anything.
Finally the doctor walked into the room, wearing a neutral face. He closed the door behind him. “Hello.” He took a seat next to Mr. Colten and addressed us as a group. “I know that this is a hard time for you all since it’s Thanksgiving Day, but any other day this would’ve been just as terrible. You have my sympathy.”
We all held our breath; no one was sure what type of sympathy he was offering.
“I wanted to let you know exactly what took place. His heart’s arteries were blocked, and Mr. Colten suffered a massive heart attack.”
There were sighs and cries all through the room.
“We performed heart surgery and sewed in a new piece of blood vessel to bridge over, or by-pass the obstruction. We fixed the immediate problem, but there were other arteries that were leading to a blockage, so we fixed them as well. We repaired three arteries altogether, so what we performed is what is called a triple bypass.” He took a deep breath. “His age plays a major part on how, or if he’ll pull through this.” He paused. “The next seventy-two hours are extremely critical. He is currently in ICU. In the morning, you will be able to see him two at a time, but as for tonight, let’s limit it to just two members of his immediate family.”
Tremel’s father and Grandma Colten followed the doctor.
A few minutes later, Tremel got restless and sprung from his seat and out the door. I was right behind him, and so was his mother.
His face was flooded with tears. He started punching the air with his fist and let out a few loud grunts.
His mother gazed at me, gesturing for me to take control. I guess I had to. He wasn’t her little boy anymore; he was my man.
I walked up behind him. “Baby, I’m sorry.” I ran my hand slowly over his head and then his back. “I’m here for you.”
He didn’t say a word, but I felt him trembling underneath my fingertips.
“All we can do now is pray. That’s what he’d want us to do.”
He looked at me as though I was right.
I gave him a little smile. “Mel, let’s pray for him.”
He slowly turned to me, grabbed both my hands, and right in the middle of the hallway of Saint Michael’s Hospital, we silently asked God to restore the same health and strength that Grandpa Colten was so thankful for just hours earlier in his prayer.
When other family members left to drive home, Tremel didn’t. He refused to leave the waiting room, stating that someone should stay.
It took his mother and me an hour to convince him that there was nothing he could do by sitting there.
At 1:00 in the morning, we were finally on our way back to the hotel.
We took a shower together, and as much as I admired his beautiful, brown body, I couldn’t expect him to be aware of my desires.
I pulled the towel from his hand and bathed him just like a servant did to her king. I lathered him from head to toe, and he never said a word. All he had to do was stand still. He was my emperor, and I was willing to humble myself before him.
I moved the cloth over his chest, felt his heart beating, and wondered what my life would be like had I not fallen victim to Conrad’s sweet talk. I still wouldn’t have a job, but I would’ve taken something, anything, even if I had to leave my apartment and get something meager Down South. I would do anything to change the decisions I’d made.
Two good things came out of my time in the E
lite: daddy’s care and the money being sent to Savion to help with his illness. However, the worst thing that could ever happen, Norman being Mel’s uncle, meant the road my life had taken was making a U-turn and headed to the truth.
I thought of many ways to avoid giving Norman money. The only way around it was to tell Mel about everything before his uncle did. If I told him about Norman, then I’d have to tell him about Julian, Doctor Baker, the pastors, and the lawyer. I was now faced with making a decision to lose or to keep the one thing that made sense to me.
I joined Tremel in bed, where he didn’t talk much. His mind was still at Saint Michael’s. He was thinking of a man he loved and was afraid to lose.
And so was I.
This night there was a different kind of moaning and groaning. It was all done in our hearts. We both longed for the betterment of something we believed in and loved. His situation was out of his hands, but I had the ability to change what I was going through.
We were at the hospital early the next morning. As soon as it was visiting time, Tremel and I were standing by his grandfather’s bedside. Liquid-filled tubes and wires ran back and forth from Grandpa’s body to the machines nearby. Tremel was better composed, though melancholy, not a tear in sight.
With his eyes closed, head upright, and hose coming out of his mouth, Grandpa Colten was laying there so still, it seemed like his spirit had left the building.
Mel said into his ear, “Want to hear a song?” His hand moved over Grandpa’s snow-white mane. “What about your favorite hymn, Pops?” He grabbed his stiff hand. “How about a little ‘Precious Lord’?” He chuckled and then cleared his throat.
“Precious Lord, take my hand. Lead me on, let me stand. I’m tired, I’m weak, I’m ’lone. Through the storm, through the night, lead me on to the light. Take my hand, precious Lord. Lead me home.” Tremel sang three verses of the song and had nurses, doctors, patients, and visitors all tearing up and amazed.
Though I didn’t see it, Tremel said that at the very end of the song his grandfather squeezed his hand. It was the first sign of life anyone had seen since he fell ill the night before.
I left Tremel and ran toward the waiting room to tell the family that there was hope. However, on the way there I ran into trouble—Norman.
“I changed my mind. I don’t want a check. I want cash,” he said.
I scanned the area for family members. “I’m not traveling with that type of money.”
“Then go to the bank.”
I lied. “I bank with a credit union, and I can’t take out more than two hundred a day at the ATM, so you’ll have to wait until I get home.” I was sick of him.
“I’m not waitin’ on shit. I want that money before you leave.”
“Why?” I tried to keep my voice down. “You own a bunch of jewelry stores. You don’t need my money.” I wanted to spit on him. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“You did it to yourself, bitch. You sent those pictures to my wife and fucked up my family.” He pointed at me. “Because of you, my life is hell. And you’re right—I don’t need your money—ten grand ain’t shit to me. But because you tried to ruin my life, you better believe that I’m damn sure gonna to try to fuck yours up too.” He walked away and left me standing there like we were two passing strangers who weren’t talking.
Norman was like a termite; he was eating away at me, and I was about to crumble. What do people do when they have pests?—They call an exterminator.
A friend of Damian’s, Big Ralph, was “hired help,” and all I had to do was compensate him for his skills and time. I was ready to pay a price to see that Norman did not talk to Tremel or to anyone ever again.
Many times I had watched the news and saw people get busted for hiring a hitman who was really a detective, or some loser working for the cops, but that hadn’t turned me off from the idea. The verdict?—Do or die. What I wanted to do would cause someone to die.
I continued my walk to the waiting room. I moved very slowly, trying to remember what it was I was supposed to say to Tremel’s family. Before I made it there, a doctor rushed past me, and by the time I got there, everyone was screaming and crying.
Grandpa Colten had given up the ghost.
Shortly after the announcement, a nurse ushered Mel into the room, and he fell into my arms.
Because of the funeral arrangements, we ended up staying an additional week in Cleveland. During that time, I truly felt like a part of the family. You couldn’t tell me that my last name wasn’t Colten. Tremel and I spent day and night at his parents’ house, helping to make arrangements, phone calls, and decisions. We never left the house for the hotel until after midnight each night.
Though Norman was always there, he acted the way a human should. I guessed the death had humbled him. He was actually nice to me when we were alone together, and he never mentioned the money.
“There’s no place like home,” Tremel said as we walked into the apartment from the airport. “Seems like we haven’t been here for months.” He rested our luggage on the living room floor. “I can’t wait to get to bed.”
“Me too.”
It was just 5:30 on a Sunday evening.
“But we have a lot of mail to go through.” I looked at the blinking light on the answering machine. “And twenty-six new messages.”
“You’re checking all that stuff on your own.” He dragged the bags from the living room to the bedroom. “I’m about to lay down.”
“No,” I whined, “I’m not doing your dirty work.” I ran behind him and pounced on the bed. “Get out of this bed. We have to do this stuff together. All of that mail isn’t mine.”
He closed his eyes and faked a snoring noise, pretending to be asleep.
“Get up, Mel. Even Rip Van Winkle can’t fall asleep that fast.” I started tickling him.
“Stop.” He was laughing uncontrollably. “I’m going to hurt you, girl.”
“Come on, let’s go through the mail so that when we get in bed we can stay.” I grabbed his hand and tried dragging him out of bed.
He hopped up. “All right, fine. But you owe me a massage.”
“Deal.”
We walked into the living room and sorted the mail as we listened to the messages over the speakerphone.
We went through almost twenty messages before hearing a young woman’s voice. “This message is for Tremel Colten. My name is Alexandria Mitchell. I am an executive producer at Jump Records.”
My heart leaped as she continued.
“We had a chance to listen to your demo a week ago, and I’ve been trying to contact you ever since. I decided to leave you a message this time.”
Tremel and I stared at one another.
“We were very impressed, and are hoping for the opportunity to work with you. A proposal was priority-mailed to you, but we still haven’t heard from you. Please review it ASAP, and if you’re still interested, please call me here at Jump. My number is . . .”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “If possible we’d like to get you out to Boston right away.”
Tremel and I were still staring at each other. We were both in an extreme state of shock. I couldn’t believe that Julian had done me the favor anyhow. I hadn’t told Mel about trying to submit to Jump, and he never submitted, because he didn’t think he stood a chance with such a major record label. He didn’t say a word. His smile said everything that he couldn’t.
A full minute went by before he whispered, “Play it again.”
I hit the button, and this time we giggled dizzily during the entire message.
At the end he said, “This can’t be real.”
We hugged.
“Is this a joke?” He repeated the question over and over again. “I can’t believe this.” He kissed me several times before he realized that we had business to tend to. “We have to find that proposal,” he said anxiously. “I’m calling them first thing in the morning to let them know that I’m still interested.” He added, “Very i
nterested.”
I was sitting in his lap by this time. I squealed, “Baby, we did it.” I corrected myself. “Well, you did it.”
He looked at me like I had just pinched him. “You were right the first time. We did it. You’ve been there for me, helped me get all of those demos out, made phone calls.” He paused. “We did it.” He kissed me softly. “I love you.”
My stomach was quivering. Though we still didn’t know exactly what was up, the fact that something was up had me on a high.
“I love you too.” I got up from his lap and began to look over the mail.
We opened envelope after envelope in search of the dream.
In the midst of our search, the phone rang. It was Nat. She notified me that Nick had asked a teacher at school to find out her ring size.
I shrieked with happiness for her. It was the beginning of December, so Nick no doubt had a big question to ask her on Christmas Day.
“Wow.” I walked into the bedroom, leaving Tremel to sift through the mail alone. “I’m so happy for you.” I sat on the bed and smiled like it was my special day.
“I can’t believe this,” she said. “How do I act surprised, though?”
I thought about it a bit. “Just pretend that he’s asking for your size to buy you a pair of gloves,” I joked. “So when he pulls out the diamond, you just fall to the floor.”
“I can’t believe this, Sarai. After all of these years, I finally found the one.”
Did she mean “the one,” as in one inch? I laughed to myself. “Who did he ask for your size?”
“Mrs. Cooper.”
“He should’ve asked me. I wouldn’t have let you know anything.” In a way, I was disappointed that she already knew. “She should’ve kept the secret.”
“Well, she never actually told me.” See, this is how it happened—Nick met Sharisa, Mrs. Cooper, at the Thanksgiving thing at the school last week. I saw them talking a lot. I even caught a little attitude about it, but I kept cool, though. I didn’t say anything, but I had major beef.” She paused. “Anyways, what happened was she came into the lounge today with this jewelry magazine and sat with me. All of a sudden we’re discussing jewelry, and she asked my ring size.” Nat took a breath. “At first I thought I was just paranoid, but when I was in a restroom stall, she came in and I heard her on her cell. When she said ‘Nick? She wears a size six,’ I thought I was going to die.”
Going Broke Page 23
