I had a lot to think about and I did not need him around to cloud my judgment. Before climbing back in bed, I checked under it to see if he had put the fake dick that he came into my house with under the bed, but he must have stuffed it back in his pocket and taken it with him. I could not wait to call Angie and tell her that shit. Before I could reach for the phone, Norman called.
“Hello,” I answered, pretending sleep.
“It’s me baby and all I can say is damn, girl!”
“I know what you mean,” I said, “but you got me so tired I have to get some rest. I will call you later.”
“All right, sweetness, think of me as you sleep as I will be thinking of you,” he replied.
The bile rose in my throat. Was this guy serious? Did he really believe that he had it like that? Suddenly the shit became funny and I laughed myself back to sleep.
I slept for a few hours more and went to the grocery store. The phone was ringing when I got back to the house. I looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Norman again. This was the third call that I had had from him that day and it was only 1:00. He had called first thing that morning waking me up after I finally fell asleep; he was on my caller ID again around 11:00; and now he was on the phone again.
Pissed, I answered the phone. “Hello.”
“Damn, baby, sounds like you need a little tender love and care. Do you want me to come over?” he said.
Only if you bring a friend, I thought.
“Can I come back and get into bed with you?” he asked. I had to refrain from asking him if his mother would let him come out and play.
“I’m pooped, baby. Maybe tomorrow,” I lied as I hung up the phone. I was going to have to deal with this situation sooner or later but I still had not decided what bothered me most—the fact that he was living with his momma in a rundown shack or the fact that he perpetrated on his dick! I pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down to weigh the situation.
I drew two columns on a piece of paper and at the top of one column, I wrote “Reasons to Be With Norman.” On the other column I wrote, “Dump the Dwarfed Penis.” I cautioned myself to think positively and to fill out the reasons-to-stay column first ’cause up until I had gone to his house, I was very much on the way to falling in love with Norman. In the plus column, I listed the fact that my kids loved him; he was very good-looking; he had a nice upper body (I could not say his whole body was nice anymore now that I had gotten a look at the goods); he had a great sense of humor; we liked the same movies, and some of the same foods; he was a great dancer; and he knew how to treat a woman.
In the negative column I listed first and foremost, his little dick; the house that he lived in with his momma; the fact that he could be moody sometimes; demanding, pushy, critical, egotistical and spoiled; he liked sports; had a tendency to hog the remote; and the fact that he gave me a fucking Timex.
After the list writing was done, I studied everything in the negative column and asked myself what, if any, of those things could I change and learn to accept. He was stuck with the little dick; God gave it to him and if it hadn’t grown to full size yet chances were good that it would never grow up. But I could teach him that there were other things that he could do to please me to make me forget about his little dick, at least for a little while. Hell, I could even show him how to use my vibrator on me!
The deal with the house was really not my problem. If his mother chose to live in the house, then what could I say? I could’ve asked him why didn’t he and his sisters contribute some money to fix the house up but I did not want to broach that situation unless I decided to keep him. The reality was that if the house continued to be an issue, I never had to go back there again. If there was another function that we had involving his family, I could have it at my house.
With regard to his being pushy, demanding, and egotistical, I was just going to have to decide how much of that shit I was going to take and have a serious heart-to-heart with him about that. I knew that if he caught me on a day when my tolerance level was low, I was more than likely to put him in his place real quick so that did not appear to be a real big issue. Finally with regard to the remote, if he got too damn happy with the shit I would just turn the damn set off ’cause after all, it was my TV!
Logically I had resolved all the issues I had with Norman with the exception of the watch; I simply would not wear it. I would put it back in its box and maybe give it to someone that I didn’t like for Christmas.
Chapter 31
In the end, after going over my list and checking it twice, I was not ready to be single again and Norman did have a lot of pluses in his box. I had been single for so long that I thought my minor problems with Norman could be worked out for at least a little while. We had only been dating for a little over eight months and we had only had sex once so maybe I was being a little too harsh.
I agreed to let Norman come over that night and this time I said I would cook for him.
Tyson called me at work. I didn’t know he had my number but I just assumed that Sammie had given it to him.
“Hello, Tyson, how have you been?” I asked. He did not sound quite right. I heard noises in the background but I could not tell from the sounds. I glanced at my watch and realized that it was only 10:00 a.m. He should be at school assuming that he still went, I thought. I wanted to ask about his mother but something would not let those words out.
“Ms. Marie,” he started but did not continue. I could hear him crying.
“Tyson, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me!” I tried to keep my voice down but all kinds of thoughts went through my head. He still didn’t answer me because he was having a hard time catching his breath.
“Are you in trouble? Are you hurt?” I quickly asked him.
“It’s not me,” he wailed. Cold clammy fingers pricked my spine. “Tyson, tell me, please. Is it Sammie?” I had not spoken her name aloud in months and the word seemed foreign to my tongue. I had not forgotten her but I didn’t dwell on her either.
“It’s Kendall. She’s in the hospital,” he said, gaining some control.
“What happened?”
“She tried to kill herself!”
For a moment I could not speak. Visions of the lonely child flashed before my eyes. I shook my head to clear the images.
“Is she okay?” I whispered, fearing the worst. “Where are you?”
“I don’t know yet. I found her this morning. She would not get up when I knocked on her door for school. I went in and found her on the floor with a bottle of Mom’s pills lying beside her.” He was crying again. “She stopped breathing on the way over here. We are at DeKalb Medical. Can you come?”
“Where’s your mother?” Not that it mattered ’cause I was already grabbing my things.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “Will you still come?” he said.
“Of course, I’m on my way. If you need me before I can get there, call me on my cell phone. The number is 404-555-5175. Did you get it? Make sure you write it down but I’m on the way.”
“Hurry, Ms. Marie. I’m scared,” he said.
“Me, too, baby. Hold on, I’m coming.” I called my supervisor and informed her that I had a medical emergency and had to leave. She tried to get nosey but I told her that I didn’t have time to answer her questions. I said I would call them back later when I knew more. I ran down the hallway with my coat flapping behind me. As luck would have it, I did not drive that day and had to depend on MARTA to take me to my car. My moods switched between fear and anger. Fear that Kendall could die and anger at Sammie for making Tyson face this alone.
The elevator did not move fast enough and when it finally stopped on the first floor I took off running. I had on high heels but you would have thought I had on sneakers the way I was moving. People turned to watch me run but mostly got out of my way. I’m sure that I was a sight to behold.
I had two blocks to run to get to the MARTA station. By the second block, all those years of smoking ca
ught up with me. I did not stop but my breathing was very labored. I looked down to make sure that I grabbed my purse. I would have been pissed if I had made it all the way to my car only to discover that I had no keys. Thankfully it was on my shoulder but my lungs hurt so bad I could not feel the added weight.
When I got to the escalator, I finally stopped running. I could have rushed down those steps as well but I was so winded that I probably would have had a massive heart attack. Sweat was pouring down my face and in my eyes. I used the sleeve of my coat to wipe my face staining it with my makeup. I had not started crying yet ’cause if I had I didn’t think I would be able to stop.
The stairs moved so slowly I started trotting down them. I arrived at the MARTA platform as the train was attempting to leave. I ran full tilt into the closing doors screeching for someone to hold them open. For once, a Good Samaritan did me a favor. I jumped on the train and collapsed into the first seat I found. Everyone on the train was staring at me and I didn’t blame them. I was sure my hair was all over my head and my eyes were wild.
I tried to compose myself while searching my purse for a Kleenex to wipe my face. I still was trying to catch my breath so I raised both hands up over my head hoping to expand my lungs. This appeared to work and after a few minutes I could finally shut my mouth and breathe through my nose. I searched for the guy that held the door and thanked him. He smiled and nodded his head at me. I looked around and everyone else quickly averted his or her eyes from me.
I again started digging through my purse so I would have my keys in hand and to find my cell phone. I thumbed through my directory until I found Sammie’s cell number. I called her and got her stupid voice mail. I put in my number and put 9-1-1 behind it. I didn’t know whether Tyson had tried her number or not but it was worth a shot. Chances were that if they had to pump Kendall’s stomach I was so sure they would need parental consent before they did. If necessary, I would lie and fill out the forms my damn self.
Chapter 32
Tyson was waiting by the emergency room door when I arrived at the hospital. Since I couldn’t park in the emergency room entrance, I signaled to him that I would go park the car. I ran the entire way back to Tyson and held my arms out to him. He came towards me with no hesitation and his slim shoulders convulsed against mine. I was afraid to ask him how Kendall was but I knew I had to.
I raised his face to look him in the eyes. He blinked but held my gaze.
“Any news yet?” My heart practically stopped beating as I waited for his response.
“No, nothing. I’m so scared, Ms. Marie. I don’t know what to do,” he said again.
“I know, baby, me too. Have you heard anything from your mother yet?” He shook his head no.
“Listen to me,” I said, grabbing his face sternly once again. “If anyone asks you, I’m your mother. Do you understand?”
“I wish you were!” he said.
“Stop that,” I admonished. “Let’s just get through this. If they need to do anything to your sister, someone will have to sign for it. I’m willing to do that but you have got to back me up!” He nodded his head in agreement. Together we walked through the emergency room doors.
“I’d like some information, please. My daughter, Kendall Davis, was brought in a couple of hours ago. Can you tell me where she is, and how she’s doing?”
“Spell the name, please,” the clerk curtly responded.
I wanted to snatch that heifer across the desk but I knew it would not help the situation. “K-e-n-d-a-l-l-D-a-v-i-s,” I repeated, slowly enunciating each syllable.
She punched something in the computer, hesitated and looked me directly in the face for the first time. Once again I felt the icy grip of fear. Tyson, whose arm was still around my waist, drew me closer.
“They have not updated her condition yet. I will let the doctors know that you are here. Please have a seat.” A single tear slid down my face. I turned to guide Tyson to the nearest row of chairs. He was crying all over again. I held him until he could speak.
“Tyson, do you know why Kendall did this?” He mumbled something and I told him that I could not hear him.
“The kids at school are always teasing her. They call her Frankenstein. She doesn’t say anything to anybody; she just takes it.” I knew firsthand how cruel children could be. Kendall was built just like her mother. She was almost as tall as Sammie.
“How old is Kendall now?”
“She just turned fourteen,” he said.
“She has not even had a chance to grow into her body yet. It will change and once she starts to fill out she will have all the boys looking at her just like her momma.” I meant those words to be of comfort but Tyson turned his nose up in disgust.
“She don’t want those boys looking at her. That is the point! They have been hounding her since her breasts started to grow. They call her names like slut and whore! I hear her crying at night but she won’t talk to me,” he said.
“Did she tell Sammie?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been around the house much since you two stopped hanging together. I’ve got my own place now but I stop by to make sure that Kendall is OK when I know her mother ain’t there.”
“She’s your mother, too! You’re still seventeen; what do you mean that you have your own place?”
“It’s like I said. I’m all right,” he angrily declared. I was not trying to get him pissed but I was so confused.
“Are you still in school?” I inquired.
“Not day school; I’m taking classes at night to get my GED. I work during the day.” So much had happened in so little time.
“Why didn’t you call me, Tyson?” I asked.
“For what? You’ve been cleaning up Mom’s shit for years. I’m a man now and it’s time I look out for myself. I know I’ll do a damn better job than she ever did!” he said as he swiped fresh tears from his face.
I could not deny anything that he had said. It hurt me that I couldn’t fix this for him. When I put Sammie out I didn’t think it would come to this. I thought it would make her silly ass grow up but obviously it didn’t.
“When we left your house she got worse and worse. She knew she fucked up with you but wouldn’t admit it.”
“Look, grown man or not, you are not going to sit here and cuss like a sailor. Cussing is my job, damn it,” I said with conviction in my voice and a tender smile on my lips.
He looked up confused to see if I was really mad but my smile told him I wasn’t. “I’m sorry,” he said and for the first time, I felt he truly meant it. I patted his hand for him to continue. He had not let me go since we sat down.
“Mom stays in bed all day. She wouldn’t eat and wouldn’t fix anything for us either. She finally went to a doctor and he gave her all kinds of pills. She said she was a manic something or another. Those are the pills that Kendall took.”
“Sweet Jesus.” I could not think of anything else to say. “What about your grandmother; have you called her yet?”
“I ain’t calling that heifer.” He looked at me and offered another apology. “She would only make a bad situation worse and Kendall is fuc…uh, messed up enough as it is.”
From what I knew of Althea I could only agree with him. I struggled between what I thought was good for the kids and my moral responsibility as an adult. I opted for the kids. “Look, I will be right back. I need to call my mother to make sure that she goes and gets Keira and Kevin. I don’t want them coming home to an empty house. Stay right here,” I instructed.
I went to a pay phone anxiously eyeing the attendant to see if she would give me more information now that I was alone. She ignored me and I fought the urge again to snatch her skinny ass over the desk. I called Mom and briefly explained the situation. She said she understood and that she would see me when I was done.
“I’ll be praying for her, too,” she said as she hung up the phone. I also called my job and told them that my niece had been rushed to the hospital and I was waiting to speak to a doc
tor. My boss acted like she wanted to get an attitude but I told her my sister was out of town and I was the next of kin. She backed up immediately. White people make you lie to them! I also tried Sammie’s cell again but she still didn’t answer.
“Damn!” I shouted at the phone as I slammed it back on the receiver. I was so angry with Sammie I could have run her over with my car. I was also very scared. I didn’t want to have to make any decision regarding Kendall, but I would if I had to. I went back to Tyson and together we waited for news from the doctor. It was the longest two hours of my life and when he came out, it was written all over his face that the news was not good.
“Are you Ms. Davis?” he asked. I stood and nodded my head.
“This is Tyson, her brother. How is she?” A very large knot grew in my throat and I didn’t think I would be able to swallow the spit that was pooling in my mouth. My hands were shaking and I tried to hide them behind my back but Tyson would not let my hand go.
“My name is Dr. Phillips and I was the attending physician when they brought your daughter in,” he said.
“Was?” I said, squeezing Tyson’s hand tighter. The tears began all over again as I looked at Tyson to see if he had heard what I did.
“I’m sorry; I mean I am her attending physician.” My knees started to buckle. He noticed and gently guided me back to my original seat. He took the seat between Tyson and me, breaking the bond that was holding us both together. For a moment, he did not say anything further. The silence was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. He was giving us an opportunity to get ourselves together and briefly I appreciated it.
“Do you have any idea what type of pills she took?” Dr. Phillips asked. I looked over his head trying to make eye contact with Tyson. He just shook his head. I realized that I could not keep up the pretense of being Kendall’s mother.
“Dr. Phillips, I have to be honest with you. I’m not really Kendall’s mother. She is the daughter of my best friend and I can’t seem to get in touch with her. This is her brother and he phoned me when he found his sister.”
All That Drama Page 22
