Chances Are (18 page)

So, what would make this love any different? For every love she'd ever had, she'd had to give up something, or some part of herself in return.

 

Garrett stared at the reel to reel slowly spinning, pulsing out the sounds of Sarah Vaughan that he'd had specially made. He leaned his head back against the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, and took a long swallow of Corona beer. He could almost laugh as he watched it turn. How much was it like his own life—just spinning? Going in circles.

He wanted to jump off the reel and move forward. He thought that's what was happening with him and Dione. And then bam, out of nowhere, she'd backed off.

He blew out a breath. For days he'd been trying to figure out what went wrong. At what moment things had changed between them.

No matter what he suggested they do together, just have dinner, watch a movie, listen to music, go for a drive; she didn't have time, or she was too tired, or she needed to work late.

It was none of the above.

And there was no way for him to find out if she wouldn't talk to him. Maybe that's what she wanted.

Humph. She'd played him like a flute. Got him to believe, to have a change of heart about teen pregnancy. She'd opened the doors to Chances and let him roam through and absorb what it was all about. She'd gotten him to open up, tell something about his life that he'd never shared with anyone. And she acted like it mattered, like she cared. Now that she'd gotten what she'd wanted, she didn't need him. Didn't want to be bothered anymore.

Just like all the others.

He threw the half-empty bottle of beer crashing against the tape. Beer ran down the wall, landing in a pool joining the broken glass on the floor.

D
ione's telephone rang. She turned off the water in the kitchen sink, quickly dried her hands on the soft peach hand towel that matched the decor and picked up the wall phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, girl. It's Terri. Turn on your television. Quick. Channel eight.”

“Hold on. Hold on.” She dashed into the living room and aimed the remote at the television, turning to channel eight. And there she was, giving a tour of Chances Are, talking about the importance of facilities like hers and the need for funding to keep it going. Her heart raced with excitement and a hearty dose of pride. And in the next instant, a wave of sadness swept through her as an image of Garrett, his voice, his words of encouragement flowed through her. She couldn't have done it without him. The commercial came to an end. She returned to the phone.

“Hi. I saw it.”

“You could sound a bit more enthusiastic. It was great!”

“Yes, it was. Thanks for getting it out there.”

“Who you need to thank is that man of yours. He did a fabulous job. I definitely want to work with him, seeing the kind of quality he puts out.”

Dione was silent.

“Now that I've gotten that out of the way, you want to tell me what's bugging you?”

“Nothing. Really.”

“Please don't make me have to come over there, girl. I've had a long day. But you know I will sit right up in your face until you tell me what's wrong.”

Her throat tightened. She tried to blink away the burn in her eyes. “It's nothing—”

“You know Clint is going to be real pissed off if I get out of this sexy negligee I have on, put on my sweats, jump in my car and come over there,” she warned.

Dione took a breath. “It's Garrett.”

“And?”

“Well…I…things didn't work out.”

“You want to be more specific? What things and why?”

“He—a while ago he told me some things, about his past, his childhood. He was totally honest and it explained so much about who he is and why he had such ambivalent feelings about the house and the girls.”

“And that's a bad thing?” Terri asked, confused.

“No.” Dione blew out a breath. “I just couldn't do the same thing.”

“I see.” But she didn't see. Not really. For as long as she'd known Dione, she realized there were issues that Dione never fully discussed. Yes, she knew Dione was a teen mother and had gone to live with Betsy when she was eighteen after her parents had put her out. She never talked about Niyah's father, or why she never told Niyah about her grandparents or what she had endured in those early years. But what Terri could not come to grips with was why Dione was so reluctant to share her story. If anything it was one of success, even if it didn't start off that way. Over the years she'd kept her vow of silence. She never uttered a word to anyone about Dione's early beginnings. Because that's what Dione wanted. Yet she felt that what she did for the girls would have that much more impact if they all understood that Dione was just like them at one point and had gotten beyond that.

Dione never wanted to hold herself up as some role model. That wasn't her style. But her own guilt, her inability to get beyond her past continued to mar her future. She was still that frightened teenager.

“Dee, I don't know what to tell you. I mean, you have to work it out yourself. But I think you're making a mistake.”

“It wouldn't be the first one.”

“So your plan is to what, multiply it?”

“I can't do it, Terri. It's just that simple, not at the risk of hurting Niyah. I won't do it.”

“Fine. Subject closed.”

“Thanks for getting the tape on the air. I appreciate it.”

“It's what I do,” she said blandly.

“Are you coming to Chances for the Christmas Eve party?” she asked, wanting to change the subject and soothe what she knew wore Terri's aggravated nerves.

“Sure. When is Niyah coming home?”

“She'll be here this weekend. Just three more days,” she added forcing herself to cheer up. “I can't wait to see her. I know it's only been a few weeks since she was here, but it still seems like forever.”

Terri smiled. “I have to remember to pick up her gift. I think she'll love it.”

“What is it?”

“A portable CD player. I know she loves music as much as you do, and everybody and their mother has a Walkman.”

Dione smiled. “That would be perfect for her.”

“Dee, I just want to say one thing. You can't go through life continuing to protect Niyah from its realities. I know it's a ‘mother thing,' but it's not fair to her.”

Hadn't Betsy said almost the same thing to her about the girls? She knew they were both right. But…

“I've got to run. I'll talk with you soon, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Think about what I said. Bye.”

Dione listened for a moment to the dial tone humming in her ear before she hung up the phone.

She wanted to call Garrett, to tell him how stupid she was to let go of what they were building. She wanted to share her load with him, ease her burden. But at the risk of losing the love and respect of the one person in the world who loved her unconditionally—she couldn't.

She turned away from the phone and went back to washing dishes.

 

The days before Christmas were always an enjoyable time, full of excitement, laughter and cheer. Dione would put her entire self into making the day as festive as possible, purchasing gifts for the children and something really special for each of the girls; organizing the decorating party who would hang garland, tinsel and wreaths from every available space in the house, making sure that everyone's refrigerator was stocked and that there was more than enough food for the huge meal that they all prepared and shared together. Each year they would all go in mass to select the perfect tree and Betsy would work with the toddlers to create ornaments to hang on its branches. And Dione took as much time and effort with her own home, wanting to make it special for Niyah and Betsy.

During the holiday season, Dione was one whirlwind of enthusiasm. And Niyah immediately noted the lack of it the instant she walked into her mother's un-Christmas-like apartment.

Her hazel eyes, looked quickly around as she dropped her bags on the floor. She couldn't believe what she wasn't seeing. Sure she'd come home two days early to surprise her mother and get in on all the fun of preparations, but she was certain that her early arrival had nothing to do with the state of her mother's house. Where was the smell of evergreen?

She hung her spare set of keys on the hook behind the door and walked slowly inside. Maybe her mother had all the decorations in a box somewhere waiting for her to come home from school so they could decorate together.

After a thorough search, she soon realized that wasn't the case.

Niyah plopped down on the couch. Coming home for Christmas was the equivalent of being a little girl again, when she would run home from school, rush through the apartment and see the tiny artificial tree gleaming in the middle of the makeshift living room. The one bright spot in the otherwise neat, but dreary apartment. And her heart would run a race to the tree and try to sneak a peek at the brightly colored packages that her mother had tucked beneath.

Someone had stolen Christmas.

 

“When are we going to start decorating around here?” Betsy complained when Dione came into the child-care room to check on the children.

“I was thinking of letting you and Brenda handle it. Maybe appoint one of the girls to be in charge.” She bent down to pick up Gina's little girl Brandy. She kissed her soft cheek and twisted a wayward braid around her finger.

Betsy looked at her out of the corner of her eye. “Brenda! Since when does Brenda take care of the festivities around here? And you know I ain't got the time with these babies down here.”

Dione put Brandy back in the playpen. “I'm sure Brenda can handle it.”

“Why aren't
you
handling it is the question?” She eyed her suspiciously.

“Maybe I'm finally doing what you suggested and letting them stand on their own two feet.”

“If I thought that for a minute we wouldn't be standing here having this conversation.”

“That's my decision, Betsy. I need to concentrate on other things right now.”

“Like that man, Garrett?”

Dione turned away. “That's not something I want to discuss. I've got to go.”

She walked out of the room, into her office and shut the door. Something she never did. No sooner than she'd sat down her phone rang. Only two people had her direct line. Niyah and Garrett.

She hesitated for a moment, then picked up.

“This is Dione Williams.”

“Hi, Ma.”

“Niyah! Hi, honey. Where are you?”

“At the apartment.”

Dione frowned. “I thought you weren't coming until the weekend.”

“I thought I'd come today and surprise you. But I was the one surprised. What's going on? I mean Christmas is less than a week away.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, stalling for time. She'd been so absorbed in her own self-pity she'd totally forgotten how much Niyah looked forward to the sights and sounds of the holidays.

“What happened, or didn't happen to the apartment? Where's all the stuff? This isn't like you.”

“Oh.” She chuckled nervously. “I just thought I'd do something different and wait until you got home so we could do everything together.”

Niyah listened to the words, but to her ears they didn't ring true. “Hmm.”

“When did you get in?” she segued.

“About twenty minutes ago. Ma, is there something that you're not telling me? You sound funny.”

“Just overworked as usual. But I'll be fine. Especially since you're home. I'll fix something special for dinner unless you want to go out. We could do that,” she rushed on.

“I think I'd rather stay in, if you don't mind.”

“Of course not. Whatever you want is fine with me.”

“So I guess I'll see you when you get home.”

“About six.”

“All right. See you then.” Niyah disconnected the call and immediately dialed Chances Are. Brenda picked up on the second ring.

“Hi, honey. You're back or on your way in? Your mom is downstairs.”

“I'm home. Decided to come home early. I just spoke to my mother. But I really want to speak to you.”

“Sure, honey. What is it?”

“Is something wrong with my mother? And you know you can tell me.”

Brenda hesitated for a moment, debating about what to say. “I'm not really sure,” she admitted. “I can tell you this—she's not herself.”

“Hmm. Is Chances just as barren as my house?” she asked, taking another depressed look around.

“The Christmas spirit has not arrived.”

“Is Ms. Betsy available?”

“I'll buzz her. Hold on.”

 

“Niyah. I know you're not calling me all the way from Washington,” Betsy chastised as soon as she heard Niyah's voice.

“No, Ms. Betsy. I'm home. But I wanted to talk to you before my mother came in.”

“Oh.” Betsy peered over her shoulder, checking for any signs of Dione. “It's that man. I just know it is,” she whispered as she rocked Denise's son on her hip.

Niyah frowned. “What happened?”

“I ain't sure, but knowing your mother she probably told him to take a hike and now she's sorry.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Getting too close.”

“Too close to what?”

“To her. To the truth of who she is.”

“I don't understand—”

“Niyah, honey, I think it's about time that I told you a few things about your mother. I ain't never been one to run from the truth. Always believed you needed to stand up to it at all costs.” She clucked her tongue. “But your mama always believed she was protecting you.”

“Protecting me? From what?”

“From reality. The real world.”

For a moment, Betsy debated about the right and wrong of what she was about to do. She'd been Dione's mother, father, protector and confidant for nearly eighteen years. She'd been there to hold Dione when she cried for her mother, fed her when she was hungry and took care of her and Niyah when they were sick—stuck an extra dollar or two in her pockets when she knew Dione was between checks. And that life, that special relationship she'd developed with Dione and then with Niyah, was sacred to her. But sometimes you had to break promises to the ones you loved, simply because you loved them.