Chapter 39
But I have understanding as well as you; I am not inferior to you: yea, who knoweth not such things as these?
âJob 12:3
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P
aris was on the computer when Andrew came home from work.
“What are you doing?” Andrew said as he kissed her.
She normally would be watching television or something around this time of day, but she was gazing intensely at the computer screen. “Just checking on some things.” She turned and looked at Andrew. “Dinner is ready when you are.”
“You cooked?”
She tilted her head. “No, I didn't
cook.
I got carryout from my favorite restaurant when I was out today.”
“Oh, so you went out today.” He rolled his eyes ever so slightly.
Paris stood up and stepped away from her computer. “Yes, I went out today. I had lunch with my daddy.” She was almost giddy about it.
“Wow, so you and Daddy had a date today? That's great. How did it go? That's if it's safe to ask. Did you two make up . . . bury the hatchet?”
“It went wonderfully, if I must say so. He and I had a really nice talk.”
“So that means everything is cool with you two again? It's been over three months now.”
“Let's just say: I think we're on the right path. We're getting there.”
“Well, that's the best news I've heard all day. I hope you two continue on this right path. I'm going to check out dinner.” Andrew left the room, headed for the kitchen.
Paris went back to the computer. She was checking out everything she could find on bone marrow transplants, specifically about those who normally matched.
From the start she'd been suspicious of this whole thing. As far back as she could remember, her father rarely did anything for anyone (outside of his family and, of course, William) unless there was a good reason or a payoff behind it. She was first thinking that his push for the whole family to show them as caring about someone in need of a bone marrow transplant was merely a campaign maneuver. But the more she was putting two and two together, the more things were arriving at another mathematical conclusion other than four, like some kind of quadratic equation.
Her mother didn't think the way she did. Deidra took people and things at face value
until
she was proven wrong. Paris, on the other hand, was forever suspicious of people and the true likely motive behind whatever they might be doing. Sometimes she was wrong, but most times, she was right or, at least, on the right track. Such was the case with her father and this bone marrow issue.
Her father had pushed too hard on this; he'd been more aggressive than usual, even for him. And when she'd balked about what he was asking of them, she saw his veins pop up in his neck. If there wasn't more to this, then why had he reacted in such a way? She just didn't know
what
wasn't matching up.
Yet
. But Darius had helped her tremendously in getting closer to an answer.
She'd run into Darius when she'd gone into her favorite jewelry store. He'd reared back on his heels, staring at her in a classic player way. She first thought he was just another guy trying to hit on her like she got more times than she cared to count. And even though he was definitely a fine specimen of a man, she wasn't planning on giving him any play. He'd strolled over to her with a certain swagger to his walk. She'd quickly let him know how unimpressed with him she was by moving to another counter just as he was about to approach her. Most guys got the message that, should they persist, her next move would likely be to embarrass them and it was in their best interest to keep it moving and not force her hand.
Apparently Darius didn't get the message and continued to follow her. He slinked up to her. “I know you're not going to act like you don't know me.”
She turned and stared hard at him, her mouth already fixed to shatter his tired old line, when she suddenly realized who he was. “Darius? Darius Connors?”
“The one and only,” Darius said. “Like Jay-Z and Beyoncé, I'm pretty much known by a single name.”
“I see you're still full of yourself.”
He flicked the bottom of his chin as though he were brushing something off it, and smiled. “How you doing, girl?” He leaned down and hugged her. “You certainly are looking good. No, I take that back; you look
better
than good.” He kissed her fingers and smiled even more. “Good enough to eat.”
Paris wasn't impressed by his assessment; whenever she stepped out of her house door, she always looked good. Still she'd been taught to be polite. “Thank you,” she said.
“Yeah, I see aging hasn't affected you at all.”
Paris pulled her body back. “Aging? Who's aging? I know you're not talking about me! Number-wise, I'm only twenty-seven, soon to be twenty-eight in a few months, and I'm still finer than a lot of teenagers I've seen these days.”
“I heard that!” Darius said. “So, how's Daddy dearest?”
“My father is fine, thank you very much.”
“Really? Well, that's not the word on the street.” Darius nodded. There was a certain twinkle to his eyes.
That's what got Paris's attentionâthe way his eyes appeared to sparkle. Like he knew something and it was hard for him to hold it in, so his eyes sent out a signal to say what the mouth hadn't. “Oh, really now? You mean to tell me that a smart guy like yourself is foolish enough to believe what you hear on the streets?”
“Would you like to go get some coffee or something and compare notes? You and I were always great when it came to copying off each other's papers. Remember, Paris?” He smirked.
Yes, Paris remembered. He'd taken one college course, Psychology 101, with her while he was there. They'd been friendly, though not really friends. She'd even danced with him once at a party. So when he realized one day that she was struggling with a particular test that honestly, she hadn't studied for because she'd been out partying the night before, he creatively found a way to give her the answers she so desperately needed. She in turn paid him back by sharing answers to the next test a friend had somehow gotten his hands on. Darius dropped out of college after that semester. Although someone told her he'd married Tiffany, that homely girl he'd brought with him to a party once, she personally hadn't seen or heard from him since.
Until now. And once again, he was helping her with a test of sorts, filling in some of the missing blanks. But Paris didn't fully trust him, at least not enough to let him in on her total plans. She and he had devised that lunch date rendezvous that included her father. She had to admit: It really was good hanging out with her father again. For once, he hadn't made her feel inferior like he had a tendency to do. She almost hated that she'd ruined such a nice time by having Darius show up like that.
But what was done was done. Maybe she'd ask her father out again, only the next time it would be for real, and not a setup.
Still, she and Darius had plans to meet up again. She was aware that he was interested in more than being her sidekick. But she also knew how to handle men like Darius. There wouldn't be anything happening between the two of them. Her only interest with Darius was her discovery of the truth project.
She and Andrew were working on making a baby. Unfortunately,
that
little project wasn't faring so well. And it didn't help that Andrew seemed to be changing so much. He wasn't as attentive to her needs as he'd been in the past. Her whining didn't seem to move him in the way that it used to. She wasn't sure what was going on, but she knew she had to step up her game if she didn't want to lose him.
And she didn't want to lose him.
Chapter 40
Let love be without dissimulation. Abhor that which is evil; clave to that which is good.
âRomans 12:9
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J
essica had to have chemo treatment three times a week and wasn't able to see Jasmine much at all. Gabrielle was glad she'd agreed to take a leave of absence from her job at the church to take care of Jasmine and her mother full-time. She didn't get to see Zachary as much, but he was
so
understanding. He would come see Jasmine every day, even if he could only stay for a few minutes. His visits totally made Jasmine's day. Gabrielle was also taking Jessica back and forth for her chemo treatments and staying with her until she was settled in after taking her back home. She would then go back to the facility and sit with Jasmine.
Jasmine had been a real trouper about everything, not just about her situation, but about not getting to see her mother much. At the start of Jessica's chemo, her hair immediately started to fall out. Jessica decided to shave her head and wear beautiful scarves. In the beginning, she didn't tell Jasmine that she was sick. Instead, she told her she didn't want her to be the only one with short hair so she had hers shaved to show her true solidarity. When Jasmine asked Gabrielle why she wasn't showing her solidarity with them by shaving her head, Zachary valiantly stepped in and saved the day.
“Blame it on me, Miss Jazz. I'm her boyfriend and I like to pull her hair,” Zachary said. “Not that I don't like your and your mother's hairstyle. I think you both are too cute. It's just . . . well, just call it a Dr. Z thing. But I like to walk up and pull Gabrielle's hair.” He gently pulled a curl and let it spring back. “See?”
Jasmine giggled. “Like Ellis, this boy that was in my class. He would pull my hair like that back when I
had
longer hair before it came out. Mama said he pulled it because he really liked me. So are you and Miss G going to get married?”
Gabrielle was about to tell Jasmine that it wasn't nice to put a guy on the spot like that, when Zachary preempted her. “As soon as you get out of this place and are well enough to be our flower girl, we most certainly are.”
“For real!” Jasmine said. “For real? I would so love that. Can I, Mom? Can I be their flower girl at their wedding?”
“Of course you can, sweetheart. If you want to be a flower girl and they want you to be, I'll be right there beaming and cheering you on as you walk down that aisle, casting flower petals onto the floor, making me
so
proud.” Jessica hugged her.
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you more,” Jessica said. “I love you . . . more.”
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It was a Tuesday, exactly eighty-six days since Jasmine's bone marrow transplant. She'd done remarkably well. Her white cell count was great. Her immune system was operating just as the doctors wanted. Her hair was growing back so pretty, like baby fine hair. To Gabrielle, it was like having a baby and watching that baby grow and get stronger every day.
Jessica was home, resting from her last round of chemo. She was so weak. She'd wanted to be there on this day more than anything in the world, and she'd tried her best. But she was throwing up and she couldn't get out of bed, no matter how hard she tried. Gabrielle told her to just rest and she'd take care of everything for her. She and Jessica were on the same page; everything they did was for Jasmine's sake.
Zachary had gone with Gabrielle to the facility where Jasmine was. He'd walked in with a huge grin on his face and two balled-up fists crossed at the wrist.
Jasmine giggled. It had been a while since he'd done that.
Zachary held his crossed fists out to Jasmine as she sat in the chair next to the window. “Alabama hit the hammer, high or low. If you pick the right one, you may go.”
Jasmine tapped the right fist. He opened it and held his hand out.
Jasmine picked up the piece of paper, unfolded it, and began to read it. It said,
You may go. You're going home today.
Jasmine looked at Zachary, then Gabrielle.
Gabrielle nodded, almost in tears at this point.
“For real? Are you serious? I'm going home today?”
Gabrielle hugged Jasmine as she sprang to her feet. The two of them, locked in an embrace, started jumping up and down. “Yes. You're going home today. For real!”
Jasmine stopped and stood still. “Where's my mother? Is she signing the papers for me to leave?”
“No, honey,” Gabrielle said. “She's not here. She's not feeling so hot today, so she asked me and Dr. Z to come and get you and bring you home.” Gabrielle gazed down into Jasmine's little face. “Your mother can't wait to see you.” She gave Jasmine a quick wink.
Jasmine was no longer smiling now. “Is my mother going to die?” Jasmine asked, tears in her eyes, then falling.
Gabrielle put on a brave face. “Let's not have any of that kind of talk on a day like this. You're going home, Jasmine! You're going home!”
Jasmine bolted into Zachary's arms. “I don't want my mother to die! Please Dr. Z! I know you can help her! Please don't let my mother die!” she cried.
Zachary held her tight. Gabrielle came and hugged the two of them in a group hug. Gabrielle couldn't tell Jasmine the truth: Her mother was very sick. The more Gabrielle thought about it, the more she was thinking that maybe Jessica had been right when she'd asked her not to bring her to her house today, but to take her to Gabrielle's home until she'd gotten a little more of her strength back in a day or two.
“I don't want Jasmine to see me like this,” Jessica had said before Gabrielle left to go pick up her daughter. “Not the first time she gets out of that place. I don't want me, looking like this, to be the first thing she comes home to. I don't.”
Gabrielle had argued that Jasmine could care less
what
Jessica looked like. She just wanted to see her and to be with her. But now Gabrielle was reevaluating that decision. Maybe she
should
have agreed to take Jasmine home with her.
At least for this joyous first day of Jasmine finally getting to leave this place, she deserved one day of no worries.
Maybe she should have . . .