All That Drama (5 page)

Sammie did not ask Jessie any questions. She went to the closet and removed their suitcases. This was their third move since arriving in California and she just assumed they were moving again to avoid paying rent. She had completely forgotten the earlier phone conversation she had overheard with her mother.

She didn’t realize that they were headed to Atlanta until they hit the highway. “Oh shit,” she exclaimed both excited and scared.

I
t was August of 1995 when the kids and I moved to Atlanta. I was thirty years old with two small children; Keira was six and Kevin was four. We arrived around lunchtime with little fanfare after the untimely death of my father and the recent separation from my husband of eight years. Although Momma appeared to be happy to see me, our relationship was strained. In my heart, I didn’t feel like she fully supported me in my decision to divorce my husband Keith.

I arrived in a U-Haul truck loaded with a bunch of junk I hastily threw together to make the thirteen-hour trip from Baltimore. I immediately placed my belongings into storage and moved in with Momma. I wanted to move closer to her after Dad had suffered a fatal heart attack. It was so sudden and we were both so grief stricken that neither of us wanted to be alone.

“Hey, sugar,” Mom said when she answered the door. Loaded down with suitcases and children, I felt like a young kid again instead of a grown woman coming to live with her. In addition to “moving back home” syndrome, I was bringing home two small children.

“Grandma!” Keira and Keith yelled in unison, throwing themselves against her legs. She bent and hugged them both, smothering their faces with kisses. I kissed her on the cheek and squeezed past her to put down my bags. I didn’t realize that I would feel like such a failure crawling home to Mom but I could not deny the heavy knot I felt in my chest. Although my life would not be classified as a dismal failure, there was something very demeaning about moving home even if it was with the best intentions.

This was only my third visit to Atlanta since Mom and Dad moved from Baltimore three years earlier. Dad only had two more years to work before he could retire and they wanted to move to Atlanta for the warmer climate. Mom had already retired on a medical disability and Dad died one month before his retirement party. We still had the unsent invitations.

When I made the trip for his funeral, I could still feel and smell his presence in the house. I kept looking for him to be seated at his computer, which was his favorite spot. As I looked around my “temporary home,” it was missing Dad’s familiar scent of peppermint. Fresh tears welled in my eyes and I tried to conceal them from my mother.

“It’s okay, baby,” she said as her own tears slid down her full cheeks. “It will take some getting used to but we will be okay,” she assured me.

I wanted to bury my face in her chest and demand answers to all of life’s questions, which had plagued me since Daddy died. I quickly brushed away my tears, hoping to change the mood.

For the first time since I walked through her door, I really looked at her face. It was pinched and I could tell that she had been crying a lot longer than the few seconds I had just witnessed. I understood why but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. My dad was very special to me and to her. He was the only man that my mother had ever known in the physical sense, and she was having a tough time adjusting to life on her own.

“Momma, you’ve been crying a lot; it is written all over your face,” I said, fighting back my own tears again. She hung her head but did not acknowledge my comment.

“How are we going to be any use to each other when we can’t stop crying?” I asked, feeling like my heart would break. I just hated to see my mother cry.

“I don’t have any answer for that,” she said. That scared me even more because Luetta had an answer for every damn thing whether you liked it or not. And for the ninety-nine-thousandth time, I thought I had made a mistake by moving in with her.

I don’t know what delusion I had fed myself to make me think things would be easier for her if I came, but in retrospect, I gave myself too much credit. I was not the balm Momma needed to heal her aching heart. Time and only time would heal her, not me. Shit, how was I going to be a pillar of strength for her when I could not hold my own shit together! Although my heart was pure at the time it was suggested, I could not help but think that together we would feed on each other’s grief.

“Mom, was this a good idea?” I finally asked the question, and was afraid of the answer. It wasn’t as if I would turn around and move back home if she said no but I had to voice my concern.

“It’s all good,” she said and smiled as she wiped the tear smudges from her face. “You and I will still have our moments but these two will bring us through,” she said, pointing to Keira and Kevin. They squealed with joy and flung themselves at Momma’s knees again.

“All good? You trying to get hip on me, Momma?” I asked, smiling. I chuckled and walked into the dining room.

Mom was right. Children do tend to take your mind away from everyday problems, especially when they are as young as Keira and Kevin. It was when they got older that they became another source of emotions. Keira and Kevin really didn’t get to know Dad all that well. Sure, they visited at least twice a day but they left Baltimore when they were so young! That’s one thing about children; they forget very quickly.

My heart was still heavy about Dad since we had just recently mended our broken fences and I felt cheated that he died so soon afterwards. I don’t think he ever forgave me for marrying Keith. He wanted so much more for his only daughter and he knew that our marriage wouldn’t last. I could not even comprehend my mother’s misery. Dad was the only man that she was ever with.

In a way, my separation from Keith happened at the best possible time. I was able to sever my ties in Baltimore and move to Atlanta to be closer to Mom just in case she needed me. On the flip side, she would be able to help me if and when I succumbed to the deep depression I felt when I acknowledged my failed marriage and the fact that I was now a single mom.

I carried my bags to the guest room that I had occupied just a few short weeks ago for my Dad’s funeral and returned to the kitchen. The children were having cookies and milk and Luetta was enjoying the moment.

“This is good!” I said, gently massaging Mom’s shoulders. She reached up and put her hand over mine.

“Yes, it is.” I kissed her again on the cheek as I grabbed my own cookie.

“How was the drive?” she asked. “And where is your friend?”

“His name is Dennis, Mom, and he went to get a hotel room,” I said, not wanting to answer too many questions about how I knew Dennis.

“I thought he was going to stay here?” Mom replied, her tone revealing her relief and regret that he was not.

“He wanted to get some rest and he knew he would not be able to with these energized bunnies,” I said, looking at my kids lovingly. “Mom, you should have seen them. They bounced around that truck all down the highway, and didn’t take a nap until we turned off on your exit ramp. I thought they would talk us into a coma. And if that wasn’t enough, they got into this ‘stop touching me’ argument that lasted for at least 250 miles,” I said, laughing as I remembered the expression on Dennis’ face after the first two hours.

“So, where did you meet this Dennis?” Mom asked slyly while playing with a lone cookie crumb left on the table.

Here we go,
I thought.
Damn, I knew it wouldn’t be long before she started to dip into my business.

“Before you go into Inspector Gadget mode, Dennis and I are just good friends,” I responded.

“Some friend.” She huffed. “I don’t know too many men who would drive a truck for thirteen hours and fly back home at their own expense without expecting some sort of payback,” she stated flatly.

“You don’t know Dennis,” I said, refusing to disclose any more details of our relationship than I had to. Dennis was another reason I had left Baltimore. I fell in love with him and for a while, I thought he loved me, too. But when he found out that I was not going to have any more children, our relationship cooled off quickly. I thought my heart would break when he told me that we should see other people. Secretly I had hoped that he would come to his senses and turn the truck around, but he didn’t.

“Will I get to meet him?” she inquired.

“Sure,” I said. “He’s staying the weekend so you will get to meet him tonight. We want to go out. Would you mind watching the kids for me? I promised him I would show him the nightlife.”

Mom didn’t answer so I continued to babble. “Dennis wants to move here, too, but is afraid to leave his own mother alone.”

“He’s close to his mother?” she asked.

“They are real close. Ms. Malcolm is a very sweet woman. You would like her,” I said.

“You must be good friends. You know his mother, too?”

“Enough questions, Mother! What are we going to do about dinner? I need to unpack a few things and wash off some of this road dirt,” I said, rising from the table. I knew as long as I sat there, she would pump me for information.

Changing channels, Mom said, “What does Keith say about your traveling across country with his children and another man?”

“Keith has no say,” I responded. “What I do is none of Keith’s business!” I snapped.

“He’s still your husband!” she said adamantly but not angry about my response.

I breathed deeply and responded. “On paper only. As soon as he signs those divorce papers, that will be the end of it.” Talking about Keith always put me in a bad mood and I quickly left the room before I lashed out at my mother.

“I gave Dennis the phone number. If he calls while I’m in the shower, get a number from him, please.” I kissed the children and quickly went off in search of a hot shower and some clean clothes. I dropped off the children’s suitcases in the other guest rooms and took several minutes to unpack them.

“Take a bath in my bathroom,” Momma yelled.

“Yes!” I exclaimed and leaped into the air. I was dying to get in that Jacuzzi, but was afraid to ask. That was just the type of relaxation I needed. I ran in hurriedly, turned on the water and positioned the jets as the hot water poured out of them. I liberally poured bubble bath and bath beads into the swirling water, turning the water blue. Locking the door, I quickly got undressed. I grabbed a scarf from my mother’s dresser and quickly wrapped my hair. Since I had forgotten my robe, I looked into her closet to borrow one of hers. I knew she wouldn’t mind.

When I opened the walk-in closet, I noticed Mom still had Dad’s clothes hanging there as if he would be coming in at any moment to change. Tears began to flow again as if for the first time. I closed the closet and returned to the bathroom. Suddenly very observant, I noticed that Dad’s cologne bottles still lined the bathroom sink and his toothbrush still occupied its normal spot.

The waiting Jacuzzi suddenly lost most of its appeal. I was depressed and I sorely missed my dad’s booming voice. I soaked for a while but didn’t nap as I had previously intended to do.

I changed into a pair of shorts and a halter-top. Atlanta was hotter than Baltimore and Mom kept her house fairly warm. Although Mom was not yet sixty, her prior health problems were aggravated by cool temperatures.

I was sweating again by the time I finished my bath. I used the ceiling fan to cool myself off as I dressed. It was 3:30 and I expected to hear from Dennis at any moment. I didn’t know where we were going, but I suspected we would find something to do downtown.

“Where are the kids?” I asked when I got back to the kitchen.

“Sleeping. They claimed they wanted peanut butter sandwiches, but fell asleep before I could put it on the table. I wrapped the sandwiches up and put them in the refrigerator,” she said, chuckling.

“It figures. They were wired the whole trip!” I said.

“Your friend called. Said he would be by at 7:30.”

“Oh, okay.” I was sorry that I didn’t get a chance to speak with him. I wanted to warn him not to say too much about us but I knew that he would play along with whatever I said.

Dennis is such a joker. We met at a Halloween party. I was dressed as Tina Turner coming out of a club that he and his friend were going into. His friend talked me into coming back inside. He turned out to be a jerk but Dennis and I had been friends ever since. The memory brought a smile to my face.

“Where did you say you met him?” Mom inquired again as if she had ESP.

“Okay, Mother, I will explain this to you one time but I will not be interrogated about him. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” she said, eagerly pulling out a chair for me to sit on. Even though it was just 5:00, she had already prepared hamburgers and mashed potatoes with gravy so we both decided to eat and get it out the way. The children could eat when they got up from their nap.

After pouring us both some fresh lemonade, I began telling her our story.

“I met Dennis at a Halloween party. He asked me to lunch the next day and I went. That’s it. We are friends, okay.”

“Must have been some lunch,” she said with a grunt.

“Actually, he played a joke on me,” I said, laughing.

“A joke,” she said, frowning. Mom had zero tolerance when it came to jokes. I inherited my sense of humor from my dad. Ignoring her sarcasm, I continued with the story.

“We were going to have lunch the next day, and I got this call from the FBI…”

“The FBI!” she exclaimed.

“Calm down, Mother. Don’t get your panties in a knot,” I jokingly said. “The caller said they were from the FBI and that I was seen in the company of a suspected rapist.”