Suddenly, she cried out loud, “I would know that in the end she loved me.”
“Would that make up for everything?” Dr. Tilley asked.
Her question struck Dianne at the core—that all she ever really wanted was a mother’s love. Something about a mother’s love seemed irreplaceable, incapable of substitution. Perhaps, if Dianne hadn’t known Joyce Ann before drugs, she would have been better off. She wouldn’t know then that she could call out “Momma” in the middle of the night and have Joyce Ann come to her bedside and run her hand across her forehead to see if she felt warm. Dianne wouldn’t know the familiarity of her voice. Or the spark in her eyes that confirmed, “I am her baby. Her Sugarbee.” Maybe if Dianne hadn’t known all that, it wouldn’t have hurt so bad.
Dianne allowed Dr. Tilley to pray for her emotional wellness as she traveled back to Dentonville.
“Dianne,” the doctor said in her closing words, “remember what we’ve talked about for all these weeks now. What you did not get from your parents, you can still get from God.”
A few sleepless hours later, Dianne raised her bag to her shoulder and picked up her purse. “Ooh!” She remembered her cell phone, mounted on its charger in the bedroom. She pulled the cord and stuffed the charging system into her purse, then turned the phone on and stuffed it in as well. The vibration signaling that she had a message startled her. She thought for an instant that the phone had a life of its own.
On the way out the door, Dianne dialed her voice message retrieval code and listened to the only new message she had.
“Voice message one, received Monday... at... one twenty a.m.: ‘Sugarbee.”
Dianne’s body went numb, and she stopped dead in her tracks, with the front door locking just behind her.
“Sugarbee, it’s me. I... can’t even tell you what I want to say, ‘cause it doesn’t sound like something with sense. Sometimes you just can’t run from it no more. Get tired of dealin’ with it. Made such a big mess of my life. About what happened to Shannon. I... it wasn’t your fault, Sugarbee. You were a good mother to Shannon and a good daughter to me. I love you—always have and always will. Loved all of y’all—Yo-yo, Regina, Shannon, everybody—but I’m leaving Dentonville for good tonight. I can’t stay here no more. But before I leave, I have to tell you the truth. I know you been hating me all these years and you been upset ‘cause you didn’t have a mother. Sugarbee, that’s not true. I’m…I’m not your mother. Gloria is your mother.”
“End of message. To replay this message, press one. To erase it, press two. To save it, press three. For more options, press four.”
One. She listened again. One. Again. Three.
Dianne held on to the wall to stop herself from collapsing into a mere heap of madness and confusion. She would never be able to actually recall walking to her car, pulling out her car keys, and closing the door, but she must have done so because she found herself crying behind the steering wheel, clutching its worn leather grip.
“No,” Dianne said as she sat trembling in her car. “No, no, no.” She pulled a Kleenex from the travel pack in her purse. “No, Dianne, no.” As crazy as it had sounded when Dr. Tilley suggested it, Dianne knew that this was one of those pick- yourself-up-with-the-help-of-the-Lord moments.
Then she saw it as clear as day. She had come to that instant, that sliver of time in her life, when she had to make a vital resolution. No matter what Joyce Ann did or said, no matter what happened in that rent house years ago or on this night, Dianne had to decide. She, too, was tired of the past beating her up day in and day out. She was sick of not knowing if she was going to wake up in the middle of the night in a panic or spend the next day seeing Shannon’s face.
Dianne’s forehead hit the steering wheel, and she prayed what she knew would either be the last prayer or the first prayer, depending...
She knew then that this must have been what Joyce Ann felt. And now, only a few hours later, here she was at that same crux. Dianne would either die because of her past or thrive in spite of it. The middle ground was nothing but sinking sand, a constant, vain expenditure of energy. A waste of life. She would get off this emotional seesaw one way or another. If God didn’t heal her, He needed to take her home.
Every angel assigned to her life stopped and heard Dianne’s cry.
God, it’s me. I can’t do it any more. I just can’t. There is nothing left but You and if You don’t move in me, I can’t go any further. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of the nightmares, Lord. I’ve been hurting almost all my life, and I’m drained. I’m bringing myself and this whole mess to You. I’m through with it. If You don’t fix it, it won’t get fixed, because I’m not dealing with it anymore. Please forgive me for not forgiving Joyce Ann, and show me what to do about Gloria, if it’s true. Give me the strength and courage to know that I can live the rest of my life in peace, in love, and in Your will. Thank You for everyone You’ve used to hold me together up until now. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.
Dianne opened her eyes, and in one heaving motion, she finally released the guilt-ridden words Otis had given her so many years ago as Shannon lay dead. They flew from her soul, expelled by the power of God. In His excellence, He knew that Dianne was too close to the edge to teeter much longer. Life is timed; Dianne’s new time had come.
The sky looked the same as it had when she stepped out of the apartment. The car still smelled like the strawberry-scented trinket hanging from the rearview mirror. Her hands still clutched the steering wheel. But they weren’t shaking anymore.
She had laid down that burden for the last time.
Chapter 32
It was selfish, Yolanda knew, to call him before the sun came up. He had a life of his own, and that life might not include her. But if anyone could be there for her now, it was Kelan. While in the waiting room, she dialed his number from her cell phone, a second apology ready on her lips if necessary.
“H... hello?”
“Kelan?”
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
He doesn’t remember my voice. “It’s Yolanda.”
“Yolanda. Are you okay? Is everything okay?” The bass in his voice caressed her, made her feel comfortable in the incomparable way that Aunt Toe said only a male companion could do. Yolanda understood now why God put Adam and Eve together.
“No. It’s not. My aunt Joyce Ann started a fire in my mother’s rent house.”
“Oh, Yolanda, I’m so sorry. What can I do?”
“Can you just...“ Yolanda’s voice squeaked to a halt. “Could you just be here for me?”
His immediate reply: “Yes.” Kelan clicked on his night lamp, fired up his laptop to send an e-mail to his students and the dean. Thirty minutes later he met Yolanda at the hospital.
Forty minutes later he gave her the shoulder she needed after Joyce Ann was pronounced dead.
Of all the people who could have told Dianne that Aunt Joyce Ann was dead, Yolanda had to be the one. Even Regina had been too torn up to come with her to the airport. Just what was Yolanda supposed to tell Dianne? They were sure that Aunt Joyce Ann had set the fire, but whether she meant to kill herself in the process was still unclear.
From the hospital, Kelan drove Yolanda to Dallas Love Field, where they waited for Dianne at the baggage claim area for the passengers exiting from gate twelve. The sun was in full bloom, still marvelous on a day like today. “Look at that,” Yolanda said to Kelan.
“What?”
“The sun. God brings it up every morning no matter what happened the day before.”
Kelan rubbed her hand. “You’re starting to sound like the artsy type.”
Yolanda looked at him out of the corner of her eye and felt the frown on her face turn upside down. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked.
“For making me smile on a day like today.” She blotted the corners of her eyes. “I needed that.”
Yolanda stood near baggage claim and waited for Dianne to emerge from the throng of Monday morni
ng business travelers dressed in suits, carrying briefcases, and talking rapidly on cell phones. Business as usual for them.
She almost overlooked her. Dianne? Dianne’s eyes were red and puffy from crying, but her face was radiant. Where Yolanda had expected to see a crumpled frame of an already fragile Dianne, there was a sturdy woman.
Dianne was the woman she had been that night on the stage, reading her poetry. That night she’d been sure of herself. In her element. Alive. The prayer, the counseling, the poetry—all used to build her up, to sustain her in such a time as this. Thank You, Lord. She had Help.
They hugged for what seemed like a long time, but not long enough. Yolanda knew that when she did see Dianne’s face again, she’d have to tell her Joyce Ann was dead, if her expression didn’t do it first. But Dianne was stronger, Yolanda could tell—perhaps the stronger of the two.
Yolanda pulled herself off Dianne and gave her the news. “She passed, Dianne. About an hour ago.”
Dianne nodded, wiping her eyes. “I can’t explain how, but I already knew.”
“I’m sorry. We should have taken better care of her,” Yolanda apologized to Dianne, feeling like a failure for the first time in her life. Yolanda had seen all the warning signs. She was around sick people all the time. If anyone should have acted sooner, it was she. She was sure of it. How I could have been so negligent as a Christian, a family member, and a healthcare professional?
“Don’t.” Dianne squeezed her arm and spoke slowly. “Don’t go down that road, Yo-yo. It’s nothing but a loop going round and round and comes back to square one every time.”
Yolanda knew exactly what Dianne was talking about. She picked her head up and gave Dianne another hug.
Kelan took their body language as his cue to come over and be introduced. “Oh, Dianne, this is Kelan, my significant other,” Yolanda stepped back and gave them room to get acquainted.
“Hi, Kelan.”
“Hi, Dianne. I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said.
“Thanks for your condolences, Kelan.”
Kelan offered to carry Dianne’s bag to the car, and she took him up on it.
“Up at six in the morning to be with the family? He’s good,” Dianne said in the few seconds they had to do the girl thing before Kelan returned from putting her bag in the trunk. “Cute, too.”
“Girl, I almost let him go.”
Back at the house, Gloria, Regina, and Aunt Toe sat weeping in the living room when Dianne, Kelan, and Yolanda walked through the door. They all rose to hug Dianne. She stood in the center of a group hug, smiling.
“Hey,” Dianne said, physically supporting Gloria, “it’s okay.”
“Oh, sweetie”—Gloria wiped her face clumsily—“here, come sit down.”
Dianne sat between Gloria and Aunt Toe and comforted them. Aunt Toe wept deeply, summoning the pain in Yolanda that she’d set aside at the airport—but not the guilt.
They would never see Joyce Ann again.
“Aunt Gloria...“ Dianne looked into her eyes and whispered, “I need to talk to you. Alone.”
Everyone in the room looked Dianne’s way, but they all understood that maybe she needed some time alone with Gloria. After all, if anyone could recap Joyce Ann’s last days and release Dianne from the mystery of her mother’s life, it was Gloria.
Gloria stood, offered her hand to help Dianne up from the couch, and led her to the guest room. They sat next to each other at the foot of the bed.
There was such a long silence. Then, Dianne spoke.
“She called me.”
“Who?”
“Joyce Ann. She called me. She said something…and I need to know if it’s true. Are you my mother?”
“Oh, Dianne,” Gloria threw her arms around her daughter and felt a weight fly from her shoulders. “Yes. I am.” Gloria sobbed, her chest heaving up and down, pressing into Dianne.
Dianne could hardly breathe. “Why? Why would you and my—Joyce Ann—do this? What did I do?”
“Oh my gosh, no, Dianne. I’m so sorry, baby, it wasn’t you. You were a perfect little girl. Perfect. There’s nothing wrong with you. Never was, never will be. I’m the problem. It was me.”
Every prayer, every word Dr. Tilley had ever whispered to Dianne about Joyce Ann had to transferred, immediately, to Joyce because in that instant, Dianne got a revelation that she could not—would not—spend the next part of her life hating someone else. Her peace was too important to her now. All she wanted was answers. “Why?”
Gloria’s eyes glazed over. “It was my freshman year in college. I was young. I was naïve. I felt out of place because I was one of the few blacks at a campus hundreds of miles away from my home. Anyway, he was the only African-American professor on staff. I did my work-study in his department, and we often met after class to discuss notes and things like that. Before I knew it, I was caught up in this thing with him. I wouldn’t call it a relationship. It was more like a circumstantial acquaintance, and I didn’t really know how to maneuver through it at the time. I take full responsibility for my actions, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel pressured.
“Anyway, I got pregnant. I told the professor, and he did the right thing. He told the powers that be what was going on, thinking we’d both be asked to leave the university. I remember him telling me that he never meant to hurt me—at some level he’d felt just as trapped at the university as I did.
“But the board of directors didn’t ask him to leave the university—they only asked me to leave. I didn’t know what to do. Aside from the fact I was a small-town girl with a big- city problem, the professor and I were both black, and I knew this situation could make it more difficult for black students and professors at the university in the future. I felt like the whole world was riding on my shoulders.
“My initial reaction to their request was to oblige. I remembered in our freshman orientation, they had said that one in every three people would not finish. I couldn’t believe I was the one. So there I was, all packed and ready to come back when I made that terrible call to tell my family that I had let them all down and was coming home from college. Pregnant.”
“Oh my gosh,” Dianne said, shaking her head. “This is so…oh my gosh. So what happened next?”
“When I called home, instead of Aunt Toe or my mother, Joyce Ann answered the phone. I explained the situation to her, and she told me in no uncertain terms that I would not be coming home—that those people at that college would not make me the scapegoat, and that they had better figure out some kind of way to keep me there, because I was not going to take the fall by myself.” Gloria nodded her head, thinking fondly of that conversation.
“Joyce Ann was always bucking authority. This was right up her alley, thank God. So I went back to the administration office, and I pushed and shoved until we had it all worked out. They said that if I would either sit out a semester or have an abortion, they would pay for the rest of my college education so long as I kept my mouth shut. It was strange—I mean, they even had a contract for this agreement. I wondered how many other contracts they had on file for other professors.”
“Why didn’t you just sue them?” Dianne asked.
“We didn’t sue for everything back then. People just figured women got what they deserved. Things were different then.”
“Why didn’t Grandma Rucker or Aunt Toe get involved? Couldn’t they have demanded the removal of the professor... I mean, my father?”
Dianne was outraged and ashamed. Her father, the professor, had seduced her mother and then left her out to dry.
“Oh, no.” Gloria shook her head vehemently. “Joyce Ann and I never told them the whole truth. Far as they’re concerned, I got pregnant by someone on the basketball team. They would have hit the roof if they had known everything, and I could not afford to let happen.
“Aunt Toe and your grandmother were a force to be reckoned with, for sure, but this was a different game. These were the good ol’ boys, and they had their system
. At that point, I had all of my college expenses paid for, I would be able to support my child in a few years, and I figured that was more than I deserved.
“I just needed to make a decision about you. So I asked Joyce Ann if she’d do me the biggest favor a woman can ask of another woman. Take care of my child. My momma said it was the best thing, since Joyce Ann wasn’t doing anything with her life anyway. She’d dropped out of school and gotten a job at one of the factories like everyone else did back then.”
Dianne encouraged Gloria to go on. “That was brave of you.”
“Well, I didn’t feel so brave when I skipped that semester and went back to Craw Prairie to finish out my pregnancy and give birth to you. Joyce Ann came with me. She quit her job, and we both went to Aunt Toe’s old stomping grounds so I wouldn’t have to go through the pregnancy alone. Folks in Dentonville thought I was still in college, so there were no questions about me. But they would have wondered how Joyce Ann popped up with a baby when her stomach was flat as a pancake the other day. We stayed gone for months and came back with a beautiful little baby.
“Craw Prairie is so backwards—back then black people still used midwives. Didn’t take much to make Joyce Ann your official mother.”
“But why didn’t you just finish college and then come get me, Aunt Gloria?” Again, Dianne was sincere, not accusatory, in her quest for knowledge.
Gloria replayed the decision she’d made while Dianne was still a toddler. “Well, right after I graduated and moved back home from college, I met Willie. Sometime during the transition period of weaning you from Joyce Ann’s house back to mine, Willie and I fell in love and decided to get married. I didn’t think he’d do it if he knew I had a baby already. I should have known I could tell him, though. He was such a good man.” Gloria’s face beamed at his name.
“I told him before we got married, though, because I wanted to come clean. He said he still loved me and he wanted to adopt you— give you his name—but we couldn’t do it right away because, legally, you weren’t mine. There was a lot of costly red tape. We were saving up the money to get the birth certificate and everything straightened out. In the meanwhile, we got married and I had Regina.
Divas of Damascus Road Page 24
