Monet wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and said, “I'm okay. This talk among us is long overdue.”
“I also couldn't find a job worth a darn. There just wasn't anything available for a country boy in the south. I wanted to migrate to Chicago, but your mother didn't want to. She wanted to stay in Alabama to be close to her people. I was stubborn and felt like she was choosing them over me. I know now that she wanted to be with them because they could help her, and she was like all the women in her family; born with the gift. I tried working for her Uncle Will, but it just didn't work out. Then when you were born, Monet, you didn't talk, and you seemed to shun me, and that was almost the last straw. Your mother said your actions were normal and that you had the gift too, and you needed time to adjust.”
Monet closed her eyes, and she could picture every incident that her father described. “So you couldn't deal with me, right?”
“Yes,” Aron answered half-heartedly, “that's true. I was used to babies that talked all the time and got into trouble. But you didn't talk until you were nearly four years old. I didn't know what to make of you. If I tried to pick you up, you'd screech in a loud piercing voice. Do you know that you didn't say a word until the twins were born, and the first thing you said was âOoh babies. '” He chuckled at the memory.
“I'm speechless,” Monet said. “I don't remember all of that. I just sensed that you didn't like me.”
“And I felt you didn't like me,” Aron responded in a gentle tone of voice.
“Well, I guess we had that in common,” Monet commented.
The doorbell's chime resonated through the house, and Duane jumped up from his seat. “I'll get the door. It's probably Derek. You know he can't stand to be left out of the action.” He left the room and walked to open the door.
Derek came in the house, dressed in denim jeans and a Bulls starter jersey. He removed a Bulls cap from his head and sat it on a table in the foyer. Then the brothers walked into the dining room.
Aron stood up. “Hello, son.” He greeted Derek and held out his hand.
Derek refused to take it. “Well, if it isn't the prodigal father, returned home from the big house,” he said sarcastically. He walked over to Monet, bent down and kissed the top of her head. “How are you feeling, Nay-Nay?”
“I'm good,” she replied. “It would be nice if you greeted your father and acted like you were raised with some manners.”
“Hello, Aron,” Derek said, without looking at his father. “Did you cook, Monet?”
“Yes, there's plenty left in the kitchen. Help yourself,” she said, staring first at her father, then her brother. Monet shook her head, acknowledging fireworks between the two men could erupt at any time. Derek had an evil expression on his face, like he was hoping for a fight.
Derek went into the kitchen, and Monet, Aron and Duane could hear the cabinet door opening and the clang of the pot top as he laid the lid on the counter. Several minutes later he returned to the dining room and sat in the chair across from Aron. He cut his eyes at his father a couple of times.
“You fixed shrimp, my favorite,” Derek exclaimed. “And gumbo. I think I like you being at home.” Quietness settled in the room like a heavy quilt as Derek ate.
“So Monet, I hear there's a test a woman can take to learn the sex of their baby. Have you taken that test? Do you know what you're having?” Aron asked his daughter.
“Yes, I've taken an ultrasound test, but I asked my doctor not to reveal the sex of the baby. It's not necessary, I already know that I'm having a girl,” she said, as a big smile covered her face. Faith kicked her in the side.
“Great,” Aron said. He looked over at Derek.
Derek looked at his father with a glower on this face. “Out of all the people in the world, how come you couldn't find anybody else to go live with?”
“I want to try and make amends with my children, and I like Chicago,” Aron answered easily.
“Did it occur to you that it might be too late for you? That there's nothing you can say to us to make up for the way you left us and our mother?” Derek sneered.
“Maybe not,” Aron folded his arms across his chest, “but I'd sure like to try.”
“Humph, we'll see about that,” Derek snorted. He laid his fork on his plate.
“So Derek, you must've been busy today. I thought you were going to come over earlier and help me out here in the house.” Monet deftly changed the topic.
“I got busy, something came up. I got here when I could.” He looked over at Aron again, who had an uncomfortable expression on his face. “Why did you put your hands on my mother?” he asked, seemingly out of the blue.
Duane looked alarmed and rolled his eyes. He suspected Derek had a hidden agenda. Monet sat in her chair feeling mortified.
“I didn't ever put my hands on your mother. I'm guilty of many things, but I wouldn't ever hit a woman,” Aron said unwavering.
“That's not what Uncle Milton said.” Derek shook his head. “He said that's the reason why you left, because you beat up on our mother.”
“He's telling the truth,” Duane said, with a hint of revulsion in his voice at his brother's behavior. “Momma put all the rumors to rest in the letters she left us. You should read them sometime.”
“I guess I will one day.” Derek curled his upper lip at Aron.
“Son, I'm not trying to cause any problems for any of you. I just want to try to get to know you before I leave this earth. Your mother forgave me, and in time, I hope you will.”
“I guess you were lucky that Momma was a forgiving woman,” Derek said, with a tinge of derision in his voice.
“Yes, that's the truth. She even came to visit me while I was in prison,” Aron announced, picking up his cup and drinking the now lukewarm coffee.
“When?” Monet asked, sitting up erect in her chair and staring at her father.
“Usually she would visit me when she was here in Chicago visiting you and Marcus. She told me that she'd borrow your car, and then she'd drive to Dwight. I was grateful that we were able to discuss our problems amicably. No matter how other people viewed our relationship, Gayvelle was the only woman I loved, and I know that she had feelings for me up until the end. It hurt me badly when she passed. Her lawyer sent me a letter that she was gone,” Aron said.
Monet remembered her mother borrowing her car, and how she wouldn't divulge where she had been. She just said she was going to visit an old friend. Monet would wonder sometimes if Gayvelle had met a new man. Little did she know how far from the truth her suppositions were.
Aron continued speaking. “She told me to contact Marcus when my time was up, and that he would help me. Gayvelle thought very highly of him.”
“Wow, Mom was busy as a bee, wasn't she?” Monet said. She could intuit that her father was telling the truth. “Did you think you and her would ever get back together again?”
“No, we didn't make up to that extent. I was just comforted knowing that she cared enough about me to visit and write. She could have gotten a divorce at any time, but she didn't.”
“Enough of this mush.” Derek banged his fist on the table, and the delicate china shimmied and clanged. “Tell us about you killing a man. I don't know how you live with yourself knowing that you took a human life. Discuss that, old man,” he demanded of his father.
Marcus had been standing near the basement door, hidden from view, listening to the conversation between his wife, brothers-in-law, and his father-in-law, while Monet and Duane turned toward their father with bated breath. The tension in the room, like fog, thickened considerably.
Chapter 26
Aron's voice was low as he began talking, and then he sounded potent as he continued speaking. “When I first went to the joint, I was mad as all get out. Shoot, I was embarrassed at getting caught by what I thought was an easy mark. I gave myself more credit than that. I tried to justify my actions to the authorities and myself by saying I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that I shot the man in self-defense. Nobody could tell me nothing. I was the man. I knew it all, and I sure didn't want to hear that I was wrong about anything. Later, after much self-examination, I accepted responsibility for my actions.” He explained the situation calmly, like he had made peace with himself and his lot in life.
“Obviously the judge or jury didn't believe you,” Derek snorted. “Just cut to the chase and tell us what happened,” he demanded arrogantly. He was on a mission to emphasize the worst side of his father to his siblings. He felt they were experiencing misplaced loyalty. Derek believed his Uncle Milton's tales about their father beating their mother, regardless of what story their mother decided to spin in her letters.
“I was young and foolish, running with the wrong crowd, drinking heavily, and hustling. I lived on Forty-seventh and South Park. I believe the street name was later changed to King Drive. All kind of activities happened in Bronzeville, especially at night. It was an exciting place for a young man from the backwoods of Louisiana and Alabama. New Orleans was hopping, but there was something about Chicago that held my interest. I sent money to Gay when I could, and she would send the money back to me and say it was tainted and that she couldn't accept it.” With watery eyes, Aron bared his soul to his children.
Monet felt physically ill from hearing the story, and she buried her face in her hands. She knew her father's story was going to be unpleasant, but not this bad. She couldn't conceive this man being her mother's husband. Their beliefs were as different as night and day.
“You okay, Monet? Are you sure you want to hear this?” Aron asked caringly.
Monet nodded her head and uncovered her face. She resumed listening to her father's tale.
“I was on Thirty-fifth and Wabash breaking into a car when the owner came out of an apartment building and pulled a gun on me. I lied and tried to tell him I had a few drinks, and I thought the car belonged to one of my partners. But the man wasn't having it. He was irate and said I probably stole his brother's car that lived three blocks over from him. And you know what, he was probably right. I probably did, or one of the cats that I hung out with. The man wasn't buying my story, and I could see my life flashing in front of me. The situation changed quickly to kill or be killed, and I was fast on my feet. While I was talking to him, I had my gun out and I popped him, and got the heck out of dodge. I thought I was home free until an eyewitness stepped forward and nailed me. I knew my time had come to pay the piper.”
Derek looked at his siblings disgustedly. “And this is the person you want to let back in our lives. I don't think so. What are you going to tell your child, Monet? That her granddaddy was a jailbird, probably like her father?”
Aron looked confused by the comment, and stole a look at Monet and Duane. Duane lifted his shoulders weakly and looked down at the floor. He opened then closed his mouth.
Monet leapt from her seat, and the white linen napkin on her lap fluttered to the floor. She looked pale as a ghost, and her voice trembled as she said, “That remark was uncalled for, Derek. I can't believe you said that to me. Excuse me, Duane and Daddy, I don't feel well. I will pray for you, Derek.” She turned and went up the stairs.
“I don't care what you think of me; that was a terrible thing to say to your sister. I guess you got some of the devil in you, boy,” Aron said to his son, bristling with annoyance. He didn't like Derek's comment one bit.
“He's right, Derek, you were out of line.” Duane was mad. “I'm going to go see about Monet.” He left the table and followed his sister upstairs.
“See, if you had just faded quietly and left us alone, none of this would have happened,” Derek said icily, as he pointed his finger in Aron's face.
“Perhaps you're right,” Aron said morosely. His face sagged, and he looked like a tired old man.
“Well, I'm out of here,” Derek said arrogantly as he rose from his chair. “I proved my point. You're no good, and you're just trying to weasel your way back into our lives. Now if my brother and sister would come to their senses and not get sucked in by your sob story, then this family could return to normal.”
“You're so angry with me being here that you would upset your sister like that. Maybe the apple didn't fall too far from the tree,” Aron said pompously.
Derek walked around the table, grabbed Aron, and pulled him up by the collar of his shirt. Dishes clattered on the table. Marcus ran into the room and pulled Derek away from his father.
“You don't want to do this, man. Just walk away,” Marcus urged his brother-in-law.
Derek let go of his father and rubbed his hands together. “I don't want him in my house. The deal is off. Let him find another place to stay.” He stormed out of the room to the foyer. He snatched his cap off the table, then opened the front door and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
Aron sat down hard in the chair, almost falling. He dropped his head in his hands. “I didn't want our first meeting to be like this,” he said over and over.
Duane rushed downstairs to the dining room. “What happened?” he asked Marcus, who pulled his brother-in-law into the kitchen.
“Derek, I don't know, man, he snapped or something, and was attacking your father. He said Aron can't stay with you guys. He's upset.” Marcus's voice trailed off. “I guess he's going to have to stay here with me and Monet for the time being.” He exhaled heavily.
“I'm sorry, Marc. You know Derek. Hopefully all of this will blow over soon, and he'll come to his senses. I mean I was bowled over by everything I heard tonight, but I never imagined Derek would turn on Monet or become physical with our father. That was a foul thing to do.” Duane tugged on his bottom lip.
“I guess hearing the truth was too much for Derek to handle.” Marcus wanted to ask Duane how Monet was doing, but couldn't bring himself to ask.
“I guess I'll finish cleaning up the kitchen and dining room, and then you can take me home. Since you picked me up this morning, I have no transportation. If you're living in the basement, where will Aron stay?' Duane asked.
“You know I've got a futon in my office in the basement. I guess he'll have to bunk there until Derek cools off, or we can come up with another plan.”
“I'll work on Derek,” Duane promised. “Who would have thought the evening would turn out like this? And it started off so promising.” He shook his head incredulously. He went back into the dining room and talked to Aron, telling him about the change in living arrangements. Then Duane took the dishes off the dining room table and returned them to the kitchen. Marcus helped him tidy the kitchen and dining room, and when they were done, Marcus informed Aron that he was taking Duane home, and when he returned he would get him settled in for the night.
When the men left the house, Aron decided to go upstairs to see how Monet was faring. He hesitated at the closed door, and then finally rapped on it softly.
“Is that you, Marcus?” Monet asked in a raspy voice. She hoped against hope that her husband had come to her aid. Monet sounded like she'd been crying.
“No, it's me, your dad,” Aron answered. “Can I come in?”
Monet really didn't want to be bothered with anyone. She wished Liz was at home so she could call her and talk about what had transpired. Monet bit her lip and sat up in the bed. “Yes, come in.”
Aron walked into the room, and Monet noticed he had a slight limp. She gestured toward the chaise lounging chair. “Why don't you have a seat over there?”
“Thank you,” he said with as much dignity as he could muster. He looked around the room. An étagère sat in a corner of the room, and several pictures of Gayvelle sat on one of the shelves. “May I?” he asked his daughter.
“Yes,” Monet replied. She suddenly felt tired. She was aware that Derek had issues, but she never thought he would have aired them the way he did in front of their father.
Aron stood up and walked over to the étagère and removed the picture of Gayvelle. He stared at it for a time, and then returned it to its place. He did the same with other pictures of Monet and Marcus, Monet and her brothers, and Monet and Marcus posing with Liz and Wade when the couples vacationed together.
He held up the picture of the two couples and pointed to Wade. “This is the man who came to see me with Marcus, isn't it?”
“Yes, that's Wade and his wife, Liz. Wade and Marcus are best friends, as well as partners at work. Liz and I work at the same hospital. I'm on the nursing staff, and she's a manager in Human Resources. We've been friends for a long time.”
“Hmmm.” Aron put the picture back on the shelf. “I'm sorry about what happened tonight. I wanted to come clean with all of you about my past. Perhaps I should have waited before I said anything.” He looked down at the floor.
“No, you were right.” Monet sighed. “Marcus and I are having some issues, and Derek has taken Marcus's side. It's caused a strain between us. Derek was also very close to Momma. Kids used to call him a momma's boy when we were growing up. We tease him about never being married because he can't find a woman who could measure up to our mother. Though he pretends he disapproved of her. ”
“I guess coming from me this might sound funny, but one should never side against a blood relative. It took me a long time to realize that. I just feel bad for being so stupid and wasting so much time.” Aron exhaled heavily.
“You know what, all things happen in their time.” Monet felt compelled to comfort her father. “I think of Ecclesiastes 3:1 especially when I need comforting.
To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.
There is a reason God brought you to us. We may not know the reason yet, but it will be apparent in time.”
“You know what, that sounds like something your mother would say,” Aron exclaimed. “You're a very beautiful, kind, young woman. I'm proud to be your father, and I promise to do anything in my power to make things up to you.”
“We can't go back and fix the past. But we can move forward and hopefully create new wonderful memories,” Monet said encouragingly. She sensed no evil in this man.
Aron nodded. “You're right. Derek has decreed that I can't stay in his and Duane's basement apartment as planned. So Marcus said I could stay here for the time being.”
“That's good. We'll spend time getting to know each other, and I know Duane will come over as often as he can. He's been a good brother. Really they both have. I just feel closer to Duane.”
“There's nothing wrong with that. When I was small, I looked up to my big brother, Paul. There was no wrong he could do in my eyes. I know he must've been ashamed of me and the life I chose to lead. He died fifteen years ago. I couldn't go to the funeral. My sister, Ernestine, wrote and sent me his obituary.”
“That seems so weird to me, that we have relatives that we don't even know about,” Monet mused. “I used to ask Momma about your family from time to time, and she would always say that she didn't know them very well.”
“That was true. I was ashamed that I wasn't a better provider, so we didn't travel to New Orleans much to visit my family. Perhaps it would have helped if we had. I know you must be tired from preparing the meal for me. I'm going to go back downstairs and wait for Marcus to come back.”
“I am a little tired,” Monet admitted as she rubbed the space between her eyes. “Why don't you go downstairs and make yourself at home. There's a television in the living room, feel free to watch it if you like. Derek and Duane live fifteen miles away from here in the southeast part of the city, so Marcus will be gone at least half an hour.”
“I'll do that and let you get your rest.” Aron stood up. He held his hand out to Monet and she shook it. “Sweet dreams,” he said.
“The same to you, Daddy.” Monet smiled.
He closed the door behind him and walked down the stairs. He turned off the light in the dining room and returned to the living room and sat on the sofa, waiting for Marcus to return.
Aron dozed off, and some time later, he felt someone shaking his shoulder to wake him up. He was disoriented for a minute. He shook his head, and saw Marcus standing over him.
“I guess you're going to have to bunk in the basement with me for a while,” Marcus told him.
Aron stood up and stretched his body. “I'm bushed, lead the way.”
Marcus stopped in the powder room on the way to the basement to get towels for Aron. The bag Aron had brought from the prison that held his meager possessions lay by the basement door. He picked it up and followed Marcus down the stairs.