Long Time Coming (9 page)

M
onday morning came well before Deidre was ready to face another day of work. But this was the day that she would also make appointments with the adoption agencies, so she jumped out of bed excited to see what the day would bring.

She and Johnson sat down for a quick breakfast of instant grits with toast and jelly. As they were cleaning off the table and preparing to leave, Johnson said, "So you'll call me when you know something, right?"

Deidre laughed."It's not as if they're going to give me a kid after one phone call, Johnson. I'm just setting up appointments today."

"I know, but I want to know what they say. How long a wait we might have and all of that."

"Okay, Johnson, I promise to call you right after I've made the appointments." With that, they parted ways.

When Deidre arrived at school, Christina Michael, her administrative assistant, ran over to her before she entered the school office and said, "It's not my fault. I tried to tell that woman that you had a busy schedule today, but she doesn't listen."

"What woman? What are you talking about?"

Christina opened the door to the school office. The sight of Ronny and Shameka Nickels seated outside her office explained everything.

"What's up, Ms. Nickels?" Deidre asked as she unlocked her office door.

"You know what's up." Shameka stood up and put her hands on her hips."I want you to stop suspending my son every time the sun shines, or I'm going to keep coming down here and getting in your face about it."

"All right," Deidre said in the calmest voice she could muster."Follow me into my office."

Shameka rolled her eyes as she turned to Ronny and said."Get up boy, we got to go talk to this heifer."

Jesus, keep me near the cross.
Deidre sat down behind her desk and tried her best to comport herself in a professional manner. But it was really hard to deal with Shameka Nickels. The woman was an awful mother who had five other kids besides Ronny the terrorist. The boy was sure to grow up and rob a bank, stab his best friend to death, or do something equally horrible that would guarantee him a life sentence in prison."Why did you want to see me today, Shameka?"

"You know why. You suspended Ronny again, like I've got all day to sit around and watch him. Your teachers get paid to watch Ronny during the day, and I think it's high time that they do their own job."

Right now, Deidre really needed to have a little chat with Jesus because she just didn't understand why she was childless, but Shameka Nickels was allowed to raise all the juvenile delinquents she wanted."My teachers are not babysitters, Ms. Nickels. They are not here to watch your son. They teach, and they can't do that if there are unnecessary disruptions in the classroom."

Huffing, Shameka said, "When Ronny acts up, your stupid teachers need to paddle him. I'm okay with that."

"We're not allowed to discipline children in that manner anymore."

"Well, then, why can't y'all just put him in detention or take away his lunch or something? Anything but send him home with me. I've got things to do."

Taking a deep breath, Deidre turned to Ronny and said, "Can you wait outside so I can speak with your mother?"

Ronny folded his arms and leaned back in his seat like a gangster. Shameka popped him in the head with her fist and said, "Get out of here. You heard the principal."

Distressed by Shameka's manner of discipline, Deidre turned to her after Ronny closed the door behind him and said, "If you do that in my presence again, I will have you arrested."

"How you gon' have me arrested for disciplining my own child? Y'all don't want to do it, so don't complain when I do it myself."

Shaking her head, Deidre told Shameka, "I'm going to be blunt here. I think you need parenting classes, and Ronny needs to see a therapist about his behavioral issues before they get any worse."

Shameka exploded out of her seat."How you gon' tell me that I need parenting classes when you don't know the first thing about being a parent? You've got nerve, lady. I suggest you mind your own business and stop suspending my son before I report you to the superintendent."

"Your son is a bully and an extortionist," Deidre said, thinking that news might convince the woman that her son needed counseling.

"If these kids can't fight, that's their problem, not mine." Shameka swung her purse onto her shoulder and strutted out of Deidre's office.

After Shameka left, Deidre was unable to move from behind her desk. She had become paralyzed by the thought that she and Johnson might end up adopting a kid who'd had a mother like Shameka Nickels. The thought terrified her. How would she and Johnson deal with a juvenile delinquent? She could see it now. She'd have to lock her bedroom door when Johnson was deployed so their kid couldn't come into her room and kill her. While she was picturing herself cowering in her bedroom, the phone rang.

Grateful for the distraction, Deidre picked the phone up on the first ring."This is Deidre Morris."

Johnson's voice boomed from across the line."I'm not trying to be a pest about this adoption thing. I just wanted to thank you again for being willing to check into this."

He must have felt her chickening out from miles away."Honey, I was thinking about something."

"What's up?" Johnson asked.

"Well, when you're deployed, I will be all by myself with this child. I'm just wondering if I'm ready for that."

She heard the disappointment in his silence and instantly wanted to pull those words back into her mouth.

"Don't back down now, Deidre. We've waited a long time to get here. Why don't we just trust God and keep moving forward?"

"I'm sorry, Johnson. I guess I let this situation at work freak me out." She held out her hands as if steadying herself."Everything will be fine. I'm just going to pray that we don't end up with a juvenile delinquent or a serial killer or something."

"What?"

"Nothing, Johnson. Just ignore me. I'll call you after I talk with the adoption agencies." Deidre hung up as she tried to regain her confidence.

But Deidre knew that if she put off calling the adoption agencies, she was just going to freak out again. So she picked up the phone and dialed the Action Adoption Agency. She picked them first because she really liked their slogan about making
forever families.
Patricia who answered the phone informed her that her name was Patricia Nelly. Deidre found the woman to be very personable. Patricia made it easy for Deidre to say what was on her mind."My husband would like to adopt a child, but we don't know the first thing about the process."

"Well, that's why I'm here," Patricia said in the most reassuring voice Deidre had heard in a long time."I can walk you through the process and set you up with an appointment."

"That would be wonderful," Deidre said as she felt herself begin to relax.

"I can fit you in tomorrow afternoon around three, if your husband is available at that time," Patricia said.

"That quick?"

"It's a slow week for me. And we don't like to keep our prospective parents waiting."

"All right, then, Johnson and I will be there. Do we need to bring anything with us?"

"Just bring identification. And since this is our first meeting, I'll be asking about your social and medical history. I'll also want to know what type of child you and your husband are looking for."

A non–serial-killer type.
"My husband wants a newborn. Is that possible?"

"In this day and age, I never say never. But if a newborn is what you're looking for, just be prepared to wait a little longer."

H
ow can you call yourself a convenience store if you don't even have milk?" Kenisha screamed at the clerk behind the counter of the store that was a few blocks away from her apartment.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, the manager forgot to order the milk. But we should have some next week," the clerk told her.

The man behind the counter spoke with a Middle Eastern accent, so some of his words didn't come out as he intended them to. But Kenisha never made fun of him for the way he spoke as she had witnessed so many other customers doing. The way Kenisha saw it, her people had been disparaged and mistreated simply because of stereotypes or misconceptions, so she would never do that to anyone else. But that didn't stop Kenisha from going smack off about this milk situation. Her anger had nothing to do with this man's ethnicity or his dialect. She wanted milk, and they didn't have it.

"My kids want milk this morning. What am I supposed to tell them? Eat your cereal dry today, and then next week, when y'all decide to get off your lazy behinds and order some milk, they can drink the milk in a glass, because the cereal will be gone by next week."

"Why don't you just go get them some milk at the grocery store?" the clerk asked.

"How am I supposed to get there?" Kenisha screamed at the man.

Jamal pulled on her shirt sleeve as he looked around at the other customers in the store."Come on, Mama, let's go."

"No," Kenisha said as she snatched her shirtsleeve out of Jamal's grip."You stand against the wall and hold your sisters' hands while I finish telling this man how I feel." Kenisha turned back to the clerk and said, "I bet your kids have milk. You probably took the last gallon out of this store just so my kids would have to do without."

"Come on, lady, there's no conspiracy against you. They just don't have any milk," a customer in the store yelled out.

Kenisha turned in his direction."How do you know there's no conspiracy against me? People have been conspiring to do me wrong all my life, and today is no different."

"I'm going to call the police if you don't leave," the clerk finally said.

"Call the police," Kenisha said as she became more and more irrational."Tell them to bring backup, because the way I feel right now, I just might go down in a blaze of glory."

Kennedy and Diamond started crying. Jamal tried again."Come on, Mama, we don't need the milk. Let's just get out of here."

The tears Kenisha saw on her little girls' faces was the only thing that stopped her tirade. She turned back to the clerk and said, "You better be glad that my kids don't want your old sour milk, or else I would stay here and tear this place down and then sit outside and wait for the police to show up." For good measure, Kenisha pushed over a rack of Lay's potato chips as she grabbed Kennedy's hand.

"Yeah, yeah, we get it. You're bad. Just don't bring your bad self into this store anymore," the clerk said as Kenisha walked out of the store with her three children.

"Why did you do that?" Jamal asked as they walked home.

They were crossing the street in the middle of oncoming traffic, so Kenisha had to concentrate on getting her children to the other side of the street safely. Once they were across the street, she looked at Jamal. Kenisha could tell that she had embarrassed him. That hadn't been her intention when they left for the store. But when there was no milk in a place that should have had milk, something broke inside Kenisha."I don't know, Jamal. I just got so angry. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, but I don't think I need to be around the general public right now. So y'all are just going to have to make do with the food we have in the apartment. Okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine," Jamal said, and then he turned to his sisters and said, "Did y'all hear that? No complaining—we eat what we have, and that's that."

"But, Jamal, what if I don't like what we have?" Diamond asked.

"That's just too bad. I don't like a lot of things either, but ain't nobody giving me no choices," Kenisha said as she opened the door and let the kids into the apartment.

She took to her bed after helping Kennedy out of her coat. Jamal fixed breakfast, then lunch, and finally dinner. Kenisha hadn't been able to get out of bed. Aisha came over and helped Jamal the following day. She'd made macaroni and cheese, green beans, and meatloaf for dinner. There had even been enough leftovers for the next day, which was a good thing, because Kenisha had become despondent as she continued to lie in her bed.

When Kenisha was a kid she had watched a movie called
Sparkle.
There were three sisters in the movie—the ugly sister, the plain sister, and the pretty sister. The pretty sister thought she was going to live the fabulous life after hooking up with this big-time drug dealer. But her life just went down the toilet. Before the pretty sister died, she sang a real pretty but sorrowful song about how giving up was so hard to do. Kenisha remembered feeling the girl's agony and her pain as she sang that song. For weeks after seeing the movie, Kenisha, Aisha, and Dynasty walked around the house, using sticks as microphones and singing, "Giving up is so hard to do." But now, as she lay in her bed, not wanting to even get up and bathe herself, Kenisha realized that the song had been wrong. Giving up wasn't hard to do at all. Living was the hard thing. Especially when all the odds were stacked against you.

She had done everything her doctor asked her to do. She'd taken radiation, she'd let them cut on her, and she'd even done chemotherapy. But it was all for nothing, as she found out last week while sitting in Dr. Lawson's office.

"We've done everything we can do, Kenisha. But the cancer hasn't let up. It has spread through your body."

"What does that mean?"

"It means there's nothing left to do." He hunched his shoulders and then said, "We can continue chemotherapy, but . . ."

"But what?" Kenisha demanded.

"But I don't think it's going to work."

Kenisha closed her eyes. She put her head in her hand as she thought about her children. Pictures of their beautiful faces at different stages of their lives flashed through her mind. But as she realized that this doctor was condemning her children to a future without her, she raised her head, looked him square in the face, and asked, "So what's the final verdict? What are you telling me?"

Dr. Lawson was silent as sorrow etched across his face.

"Spit it out, Dr. Lawson. How much time do I have left?"

He opened his mouth and hesitantly said, "Six months, tops."

"So, I'm twenty-three, and you're telling me that I'm going to die at twenty-four? Is that right, Dr. Lawson?" Kenisha stood up, not waiting for an answer, because she already knew."That ain't right," she said as she walked out of his office and slammed the door.

She had denied the truth of Dr. Lawson's statement that day, but as the days wore on and he didn't call to tell her that some terrible mistake had been made, she became angry and just wanted to lash out at someone. That's why she had found herself in that convenience store going off about a gallon of milk.

But now as she lay in her bed, collecting bedsores, she faced the awful truth. Her doctor had given her a death sentence. Facing the truth herself was one thing, but what Kenisha needed to figure out was how she was going to tell her children. She had promised them that she would be completely healed after the surgery.

How could she tell them this awful truth? More important than that, who would be here to protect her children from men like Jimmy Davis? Would Jamal have a similar fate as Kevin had as a child and then end up on drugs? What about her little girls? Tears streamed down Kenisha's face as she imagined someone violating her children. It just wasn't fair. How could a loving God let things like this happen to innocent children? And why was she expected to worship a God who would allow a mother to die and leave her children unprotected?

She covered her head with her pillow and moaned out her sorrow. It seemed to Kenisha that she'd been moaning for a lifetime.

"I brought you something to eat, Mama," Jamal said as he opened her bedroom door.

Kenisha turned to face her son with a frown on her face."I thought I told you to go to school?"

"I'll go when you're feeling better."

"No, Jamal. You've missed two days already. You don't need to be here taking care of me. You need an education. Do you hear me?"

"Well, I'm not going back to school until you get out of that bed." He put the bowl of ham-and-bean soup on the nightstand next to Kenisha's bed and stood there waiting for her to lift herself up.

"Jamal, you know I don't like all that back talk. Don't make me whup your behind."

"You'd have to get out of bed to do it. So go right ahead; please whup me."

The sound of her son pleading for a whupping tore at her heart. She didn't want him worrying about her or being willing to put himself in harm's way just to pull her out of this abyss she had fallen into."Just go to school, okay, Jamal? I promise I'll get out of this bed tomorrow."

"What's wrong with you?" he asked in a tone that displayed all the fear he was feeling."All you did was throw a few potato chips on the ground, and I'm sure that clerk has been yelled at before."

Jamal always looked out for his mother. This boy had truly been a gift from God. If God even gave out gifts. She had always imagined that she would be there for the important moments in his life. Like when he tried out for sports. Jamal wanted to play both basketball and football. Kenisha just knew he would be a star on the field and on the court. So she would have to be there to chase away all the gold diggers. Kenisha could foresee all the skirts chasing after her handsome son now. If she wasn't alive, who was going to be there to say, "Get away from my Heisman-Trophy-winning, Super-Bowl-ring-wearing, multimillion-dollar son"? The thought of not being there to steer her son away from so many of the wrong influences that were sure to come his way caused Kenisha to ache all over, and she began to cry."I'm so sorry, Jamal. I'm so sorry."

"What's wrong, Mama?" Jamal asked as he rushed to his mother's side.

Kenisha couldn't stop crying. She wanted to, because she saw how her mood was scaring Jamal. But she was powerless to do anything about it."M-mommy just needs some rest. Leave me alone for a l-little while. Okay, Jamal?"

"I'm going to get you some help," Jamal said as he ran out of his mother's room, down the stairs, and to the telephone. He dialed his Aunt Aisha. She picked up on the fifth ring."My mom needs help. Can you please come see about her?" Jamal begged.

Aisha's voice was groggy from sleep as she asked, "Is she hurt?"

"She won't stop crying," Jamal answered.

"Okay, tell her I'll be over there this evening."

"No, Auntie Isha, she needs you now." Jamal's voice was frantic.

"Calm down, Jamal, your mama is all right. I was up all night practicing for this reality show interview, so I need a little extra sleep. I'll be over there as soon as I get up," she said and then hung up the phone.

Jamal sat staring blankly at the walls as the dial tone blared in his ear. Then an idea struck him. He hung up the phone and pulled a piece of paper off the refrigerator. His mom kept telephone numbers of schools, hospitals, and such attached to a magnet on the refrigerator. Jamal scanned the list and found the number for his school. He dialed and after hitting several options, he was connected with the school secretary."May I please speak with Mrs. Morris?" Jamal asked.

"She's in her office. Who's calling?" the woman asked.

"My name is Jamal Moore. I'm a student there, and I really need to speak with Mrs. Morris because I'm in trouble."

"The assistant principal handles most of the student issues. I can transfer you to Mr. Landers right now if you like."

"No!" Jamal shouted."Please just tell Mrs. Morris that I'm on the phone. I know she'll help me if you just let her know that it's me."

There was hesitation on the line; then the woman said, "Hold one moment, please."

Holding his breath, Jamal silently prayed to God:
please let Mrs. Morris pick up the phone, please let Mrs. Morris pick up the phone.

"Jamal? Jamal, what's wrong?" Deidre asked as she picked up the phone.

"Please come over here, Mrs. Morris." The words gushed out of Jamal's mouth.

"What's going on, Jamal?"

"It's my mom. She hasn't come out of her bedroom in days, and now she's crying and I can't get her to stop. Please help us, Mrs. Morris." Now tears were running down Jamal's face, and his voice cracked as he finished his sentence.

"I'm on my way, Jamal. Go sit with your mom until I get there"

"Okay. Thank you," Jamal said as he wiped the tears from his face and hung up the phone. He then ran back up the stairs and into Kenisha's room. She was still crying. Jamal went over to his mother and put his arms around her."I don't want you to be sad, Mama."

"I'm sorry, Jamal. I just can't stop crying," Kenisha said as she brought her pillowcase to her face and wiped the tears.