She heard him take a deep breath. "They don't know yet."
"They don't know yet?"
"No, ma'am."
"Are they aware that you two were dating? Or are they in the dark, as I was?"
He gulped. "They don't know." He admitted.
"You're white—correct?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"She's not...what are they going to say about that?"
"Um, we haven't discussed that yet."
"As in, you and Crystal haven't discussed that yet?"
"Yes, ma'am, I mean...no, ma'am...we haven't."
"I see. So what you're saying is, you're going to take my pregnant, black daughter home, to meet your white parents?"
"Actually, I was, uh…planning to call them, to tell them."
"Like you two did me?"
"Yeah."
"Put my daughter back on the phone." She could hear him whispering to her, telling her, She's not happy.
"Hello...mama?"
"Do you know what you've gotten yourself into? Have you any idea? A white guy, Crystal! WHITE? You haven't met his parents! I can just imagine what they will probably be like! I'm coming up there!"
"No, mama, no! Don't...I'll be fine!"
"You think I'm gonna leave you there by yourself to deal with them on your own?"
"Mama, don't...we're gonna call them. I'm okay, Victor's here with me. I'll be fine."
"You are 17 years old! Black, pregnant and alone! I should have never taken you there! I should have made you stay here and attend school! Right here from home, so I could watch you! This is what I get for taking you there! WHY DID I TAKE YOU THERE?" Sylvia cried out to the heavens, wishing she could kick herself.
Crystal started crying, "Mama, please! I'm not a little girl anymore!"
"YES, YOU ARE! You weren't ready! I knew you weren't ready! This is all my fault! For some stupid reason, because you've always gotten good grades, always done what you should in school, I stupidly believed that you'd be okay! Well, you're not!"
"Mama! It's too late now! I love Victor! We have a nice little home! I'm going to have his baby, and—well—there's nothing you can do about it now. It's over. It's done. I'm going to get off the phone now. I don't want our phone bill to be too high. I love you' mama, and I'm sorry I've disappointed you."
"WAIT! Wait...don't hang up yet." Tears came to Sylvia's eyes. "I love you. My daughter, I love you with all my heart and soul. I want only the best for you. Finish school, Crystal, don't let anything stand in your way of that."
"I am, mama, that's what I'm going to do. I'll make this up to you. I'll make you proud of me again, mama, I swear I will."
"I'm always proud of you, Crystal...always. And you're only human, that's all...I dropped the ball on this one. There's no one else to blame. I'll be up there when I'm off. I wanna meet him."
"Okay, mama."
"So I'll need your phone number, your address."
She gave it to her.
When they were off the phone, she prepared dinner for herself and Victor—after dinner, they would call his parents next.
To be continued....
Chapter 189
It was early morning—they'd made it back to Chicago, but was forced to stop. Now together in Bart's truck, both men were tired, eyes burning, no longer fit to be on the road. "Dad, I think we should run by Sylvia's mom's and take a rest. We can drop into Jake's place, check on Benjamin, take a nap."
"I'm with you, let's do it."
With Shawn driving, they went directly there, parking on the side street and walked to the front of the building, entering the tall wrought iron gate, up the stairs and rang Lydia's doorbell. She was surprised to see them there, and eagerly invited them up.
"We really appreciate this, Lydia, we just needed to stop before we headed home." Shawn explained.
"Ya'll ain't got to explain. Anytime you travelin' and we halfway between, pull on in here! Ya'll hungry?"
"As my son said, we need the rest. As for food, I'm not one to lie down on a full gut." Bart joined in, smiling.
"Me neither, I'm the same way." Lydia smiled.
"By any chance, is Benjamin still here?" Shawn asked. During the trip, he'd been filling his father in on what was happening between the three. How Benjamin was at a stage where he was insisting to know who his real father was, because of all the things he'd heard over the years. Bart sighed, he figured it was normal that one would, all things considered.
"Sure is. Boy ain't doing nothing but laying around, watching TV and eating. He did cut the grass in the back for me, though, and the front, too; clean it up real nice. He even volunteered to paint our window sills. It need it, he say he'll scrape it clean and put a fresh coat on. Look like that chile gone be here for a while." She informed them both.
"You mind if we head down there? We'd sleep there as well." Shawn explained.
"That's yo' brother's apartment! He pay for it—ain't no reason for you not to! G'on down there, ya'll can come and go as you please down there, less he say different. I don't see him sayin' different, though." She went on, leading the way to the back door so they could head down the stairs. "You know the way down, Shawn; just knock on the door, he down there."
"Thank you, Lydia, we really appreciate it."
When they passed Ms. Earthaleen's, she of course snatched her door open, peeping out. "Who ya'll?"
Shawn grinned, "It's me, Ms. Earthaleen, Shawn? Sylvia's husband? This is my dad, Bart."
She peered through the opening of her door at one, then the other. "I see, good mornin', sir." She spoke to Bart, he nodded and returned, "Good mornin' to you, Ms. Earthaleen." Using her name as his son had pronounced it. "Ya'll come to see 'bout that boy downstairs? He too young to stay cooped up in that place for so long…somethin' ain't right 'bout that boy - he ain't playin' loud music...he ain't sneakin' no girls in... I'd know, 'cause I been watchin'. That boy ain't normal, ya'll need to check—see what he doin'."
Lydia was at the top of the stairs listening and shaking her head as she rolled her eyes; Ms. Earthaleen could be such a trial. "Ms. Earthaleen, they come to rest and to check on him."
"Good! 'Cause somebody need to!" She closed her door and locked it.
"Ya'll go on down, don't mind her."
Shawn and his dad stood grinning and carried on down the stairs to knock at the basement door. Shawn had to knock a second time before they heard activity from the other side. "Just a minute!" Benjamin shouted, stepping into his sweats and padding to the door barefoot. "Who is it?" He asked once there.
"Shawn and your grandpa." Shawn answered.
"Huh?" They heard him mutter as he unlatched the locks and opened the door to look at the two of them. It was clear that he'd still been in bed, his eyes were still trying to open. "Oh! Hey, come on in." Benjamin blushed crimson. He'd been in such a mood, that he hadn't been cleaning up after himself. The kitchen had tin cans opened here and there on the counter top and table, soda cans, potato chip and Doritos bags laying open. Fast food, pizza boxes, evidence of Burger King and Chinese take out. Dirty pots and pans on the stove, dirty bowls, plates and silverware on the table along with other disposable debris. "You'll have to excuse the place. I was gonna clean up today, haven't really…ah…been…keeping up with things." He nervously explained. Picking up plastic grocery store bags from the floor as they walked in behind him, entering the kitchen first from the back. He tried to make quick work of straightening up, obviously embarrassed by letting the place go the way he did.
"So, what have you been doing all this time? Why didn't you come to the barbecue? I know Jake called you." Shawn asked, looking around at the mess.
"I know. I was going to go, but, uh…I don't know…didn't feel like making the drive up there, I guess." He explained, crumbling up bags, sandwich wrappers, trying to clean off the counter and table.
"You okay, boy?" Bart asked, watching him busily work to put things right.
"Sure...yeah—I'm okay. Look, uh, you want somet
hing to drink, grandpa? Shawn?"
Shawn took his jacket off and hung it over a chair and began helping him clean up. Benjamin blushed even deeper. "Have a seat, dad." Shawn invited his father, who walked to the table and sat, while Benjamin stood unsure of what to do. Shawn walked to the sink, started dish water, stacking dishes aside. "I'll have a glass of water, son." Bart instructed, looking at Ben, who turned right away, still nervous, reaching into the cabinet for a glass. He was standing next to Shawn, an inch or so taller, and as Bart sat observing the two side by side, he got an aching feeling in his gut that all those years back when he made Jake do what he felt he should, he may have been wrong. From where he was sitting, it was almost blindingly obvious who fathered the boy. Yet…it came back to Shawn2 again. He was the one that made one pause, unsure. Even so, Benjamin's looks, while dark, as was Shawn2's—there was something else in his features that made him a closer match to Shawn, than Shawn2.
Shawn was rinsing out the glass and passed it back to Benjamin, who rushed to the refrigerator to pour his grandfather water from the water filter pitcher. "Here you go, grandpa." He passed him the water. "So, uh, what brings you all down here?" He asked.
Bart drank the water halfway, lowering the glass, he looked up answering, "Had business to take care of. What you doing here?" He asked without preamble.
"Me?"
"Yeah, you. Have a seat, boy." Bart pushed a chair out for him with his foot.
Benjamin looked back at Shawn, who was busy cleaning up his dirty dishes. "Shawn, I can do that. Grandpa…I really should clean this mess up."
"He's got it, sit down." Bart urged a second time.
Benjamin glanced back at Shawn again. "Go ahead, I've got this." Shawn agreed with his father.
Benjamin took a seat across from Bart. "What's going on, boy? What's this I hear about you not knowing who you are?"
Ben let out a frustrated sigh. "I know who I am, grandpa…it's just that…well…I don't know…I'm not sure how to say this."
"Straight out, boy, you know we don't mince with words. Right out with it." Bart pushed, taking another drink.
"Okay, fine. I want to know…which one of your sons, is my father. I'd like to know that. I mean, I know that I'm a McPherson, okay...but, from which one?"
"Something wrong with Jake being your father, boy?" Bart didn't know where it came from, but, with all that he had against his son Jake—one thing he could say, and that was that he'd done what he'd told him to do. He'd worked and provided for all of his boys; no one could say that he'd neglected them in that way. Suddenly to have Ben sitting there questioning this now, made Bart feel the injustice of him forcing his son into something that just might not have been his mess to clean up.
"Is he…my father…grandpa? Is he?"
"Far as I'm concerned, he is." Bart challenged, defending Jake.
"Grandpa…right or wrong—I need to know for sure."
"Why?"
"Why? Grandpa…ach!" Benjamin was at a loss for words and twisted in his seat to look back at Shawn. "Is this an attempt on your part to get me to drop it or something? What—are you afraid I might want something from you?" He accused Shawn.
Shawn turned around. "Are we back to that again? I thought I made myself perfectly clear to you on the phone!" Shawn turned the water off from rinsing a bowl and turned leaning back against the sink. "As I said to you, my hands are tied. Jake's hands are tied. It's all up to your mother!"
"Not entirely…" Benjamin started and then looked from Shawn back to Bart. "I've been thinking about it. DNA testing is a way that I would know for sure. I'd like to be tested." He announced, and then turned to Shawn. "Would you be willing, to give blood for testing?"
Shawn stood a moment and stared. He was thinking about Jake in this; how would he feel if it turned out that he was, in fact, Benjamin's father and not him. He knew that Jake put on a good front when he told him about it in the basement. But Shawn knew better. Jake might say one thing, but what he felt inside was another. Shawn had to say it, he had to make him aware of it. "Do you realize that finding out the truth of this, you may end up breaking your father's heart?"
Benjamin looked away from Shawn back to Bart, and then looked to the floor. "I need to know." He felt his face flame. "Besides, he never really took being my father serious, anyway—to any of us—even you have said that, grandpa."
Bart sat staring at him, and felt regret. Here was another instance where something he'd put into action concerning one of his sons, the one he least bothered with, was coming back at him. "That don't mean he don't love you, boy. Sometimes, people can't give you anymore, than what they have in them to give. He never once denied you. Denied your brothers, not once; don't that mean anything to you?"
"Of course it does, grandpa, I love him…but…I want to know who my father is. You didn't live with people telling you things, kids teasing you. You didn't have to live like some kind of tennis ball, served up to any and all that knew the game, smacking you back and forth for sport. Why should I have to live with never knowing who my real father is?"
Shawn turned back to the sink and finished washing the dishes there, as his father stared at him, thinking.
"What will you do if your mother's not willing? You need her as well, don't you? To make certain? I'm not sure how it works, but I think her blood would be needed. What if she won't?"
"They have all they need on her; all that would be needed is the possible father," Benjamin explained and then looked at Shawn. "We wouldn't even have to tell Jake. If you were tested, and it turned out that you're not—then I have my answer."
"I see, so you've looked into it then?" Shawn asked.
"Yes, I have. It's an expensive test, but I'm wiling to pay for it. All I need, is for you to be willing to do it." He stated, looking at Shawn. He then looked back at his grandfather. "I just need to know."
"And if Shawn is your father, and not Jake…then what?" Bart asked.
"I don't know…it would give me peace of mind to know."
"Answer the question, boy, what do you plan on doing…if Shawn is your father, and not Jake? Then what?"
"Well…as I said, there's no need for him to know the truth. Things can stay just as they are. I just need to know. As far as I'm concerned, nothing needs to change." He said to his grandfather and then turned to Shawn. "I mean, if you are—that could remain between us…there's no one else that needs to know." He finished and then turned back to his grandfather. Bart looked from him, to Shawn.
"I don't want my brother hurt by this. You understand? He's worked hard, for years to care for you, and your brothers. I don't care what he says, or how lightly you think he took fatherhood, he loves you. If he found this out, I think it would break his heart. You promise me, that whatever the results, that it stays between us, and I'll do this for you."
"All I want—is to know. Once I do…I'm happy."
"Okay, then, set it up—secretly—and I'll be there."
"Thank you." He turned back to Bart.
Who sat growing tired, and thinking about his son Jake. He grabbed his knees and hoisted himself up. "I'm dead tired; where can we rest for a spell?"
* * *
Continued from - Back then - falling in love ...
Young, in love, newly married, Crystal thought they could deal with anything. For all intents and purposes, they hadn't started off too bad. With the help of friends, they'd used the area's resources available and filled their home in no time. While mostly all of it was used, Crystal was proud of her accomplishments. The furniture, bedroom set, pots and pans, the dishes, the decorations, were from either Goodwill, garage sales or thrift stores. In the beginning, Victor was greeted with a bright gleaming smile every time he came from work, because she was eager to show him the fruit of that days efforts. Because she was going to school full time, she even took up selling Mary Kay cosmetics on the side. He wasn't too happy about that, because she was persuaded to purchase inventory straight off, using money that he felt could hav
e been better used in preparation for the baby; the cause of their first argument. The cause of the first trace of past baggage coming to the surface in Crystal.
"Crystal—I did not say you were stupid! I'm just saying, that I wish you'd talked to me about this first! I mean, that's a lot of money; what if it doesn't sell? Then we're going to be stuck—" He was trying to reason with her, when she cut him off yelling,
"I Know what I'm doing!"
"Don't yell at me…am I yelling at you?"
"Then don't talk to me like I'm an idiot!"
"Crystal! You took over $1800 out of my banking account for—"
"Oh, yeah—that's the problem, that it came out of your banking account! Your money…I'm so sorry! Well, I'll put it back! You better believe I will! And when I do, I'll never touch your money again!"
"Crystal, you're missing the point! You didn't discuss it with me first, you just did it!"
"I said—I'll put it back!" She bit out, glaring at him.
"And if it doesn't sell, how are you going to put it back then?" He challenged.
"I will. If I couldn't do it, I would have never signed up to do it."
He turned from her, shaking his head mumbling, "You're never gonna sell that; we're gonna end up stuck with it, and $1800 flushed down the toilet. I can see the way this is going to be already."
Crystal had stood fighting back tears, her face burning from humiliation and fear if she didn't sell it. Hurt because instead of backing her, believing in her, he squashed her efforts before giving her a chance. To her, it seemed that he obviously saw her the exact same way as her father did. His actions were the equivalent of what her father claimed, that to any man, she would be just a piece of pussy—good for shit, but a quick fuck. Her father hadn't liked her, and when her mother wasn't around, he made it obviously clear. She'd never told her mother the devastating things he said to her, or about the mean things he did to her. Sylvia had been going through enough with him getting drunk, beating up on her for anything she said out of line while drunk. Crystal knew that if she told her mother what he did and said to her, she would attack him, and he…would end up beating her up as he always had. She couldn't stand him hitting her mother, so she kept it all to herself.
BOMAW 7-9 Page 76
