Authors: Victor McGlothin
Down On My Knees (25 page)
Grace tried to explain, but the words were stuck down so deep that she couldn't find them. Tears flooded her eyes as André bolted into his room and slammed the door. Her knocks went unanswered. From the other side, she heard the muffled cries of her son's heart breaking, and she knew she was the cause of it. Grace had to make it right. André meant the world to her, the whole world. It would be the last time she'd underestimate the power of a boy's love for his father, even if they had yet to meet. She'd always assumed that nothing could shred the strong bond she shared with André. On a night that began perfectly, she couldn't have been more wrong.
The following morning Grace awoke with puffy eyes and an enormous headache. She'd cried herself to sleep at about three A.M. but it felt like she'd been out for days. What could she do to fix the situation, played over and over like a bad made-for-TV movie rerun. She checked in the kitchen but found nothing disturbed. There wasn't one trace of cold cerealon the countertop, no remnants of spilt milk, and no other signs that André had ventured from his room. Grace couldn't bring herself to go through her normal Saturday ritual of whipping up flapjacks, cheese grits, and crisp bacon only to have her son refuse it in an adolescent act of rebellion.
She scribbled a short letter, notifying André that she'd be walking if he needed her, and placed it on the breakfast table. Grace was a mile away from her house when droplets of rain began falling from the sky. The immediate forecast hadn't called for precipitation, but in Texas weathermen were often more wrong than right.
After the initial scattered shower subsided, Grace pushed on. With another mile behind her, she felt larger drops landingon her face. Then she heard thunder as the clouds seemed to burst all at once. Caught in an escalating downpour, she wisely doubled back for home. By the time Grace reached the one mile marker, she was drenched. Water had already begun to wash over the curb, warning of a flash flood to come. She'd seen cars and homes washed away by instantaneousstorms taking less than an hour to wreak havoc. Gettingdrowned by one of them crossed her mind so she opened her stride and jogged as long as she could before finding shelter beneath a group of large oak trees four blocks away from her street.
As the rising water began to stall several passing cars, Grace was shaken by a chorus of thunderous clamor in the darkened sky. A loud, blaring distress horn sounded, meaningthat a thunderstorm warning was in effect. Grace wiped her face with the soaked sleeve of her sweatsuit, thinking how the horn's blasts came a little too late to do her any good. While watching an impressive display of lightning crackle across the sky, she sat under the mighty oaks until it was safe to venture out into the open. During the thirty-three minutes which had trickled by, she watched, waited and wondered. Grace watched the nasty storm roll in as it pleased, waited for it to let up, and wondered how long she'd have to deal with the personal storm God had seen fit to rain down on her personal life. She also sat amidst those trees, trying to better understand His plan for her and why Edward was playing a major part.
Grace had nearly given up trying when she stumbled onto a nugget from her childhood. She couldn't have been more than ten when an old minister preached a sermon about gettingGod's attention. He had lectured earnestly that everyone who goes through their roughest episodes has God's undividedattention because He put something on them serious enough to guarantee He'll get theirs in return. Grace was well aware that she had the Lord's attention, and figured on makingthe best of it while she did.
Once the rain eased into a light drizzle, Grace vacated her safe haven. Passersby gawked at the woman, who resembled something the cat dragged in, seemingly on a casual stroll. Not one of them comprehended the peculiar smile anchored to her face. It was one of peace and tranquility, two of the three things she'd prayed for. Her son's forgiveness was the third.
André stood barefoot in gym shorts underneath an umbrellaat the corner. He'd found Grace's note, become alarmed, and struck out looking for her. “Ma, I was getting worried,” he said, throwing his arms around her shoulders. There wasn't an inkling of anger from the night before.
“Oh, thank you so much, Dré, but you shouldn't have come out without any shoes on.”
“Shoes can't help you in this stuff,” he replied, splashing around in a deep puddle on the sidewalk. “You ever see a duck in a pair of shoes?”
“Well come on in the house, Duck,” Grace teased. “We can talk about your dad over breakfast.”
“For real?” André cheered, pumping a raised fist. “Yesss!”
26
Soup for the Soul
G
race spent the remainder of Saturday under the covers with a stuffy nose and fever as strange bedfellows. Even though she was in the confines of a warm home, she still felt cold. Wallace called twice to check on her but she was too sedated and woozy from a half bottle of Nyquil to hold a coherentconversation. André ran it down for him though, includinghis corny ducks having no need for shoes, barefoot in the rain, bit. He also informed Wallace how sick his mother was and promised to do his best in taking care of her. When a special delivery arrived from the local Chinese restaurant with three quarts of wonton, egg drop, and chicken-noodle soup, André set up a serving tray and waited on Grace hand and foot. He followed Wallace's instructions to the letter. Shelia called to brag about her new Deluxe IcemakerII refrigerator but the fanfare had to be postponed until Grace was up to hearing all about it, per Dr. André's strict orders.
race spent the remainder of Saturday under the covers with a stuffy nose and fever as strange bedfellows. Even though she was in the confines of a warm home, she still felt cold. Wallace called twice to check on her but she was too sedated and woozy from a half bottle of Nyquil to hold a coherentconversation. André ran it down for him though, includinghis corny ducks having no need for shoes, barefoot in the rain, bit. He also informed Wallace how sick his mother was and promised to do his best in taking care of her. When a special delivery arrived from the local Chinese restaurant with three quarts of wonton, egg drop, and chicken-noodle soup, André set up a serving tray and waited on Grace hand and foot. He followed Wallace's instructions to the letter. Shelia called to brag about her new Deluxe IcemakerII refrigerator but the fanfare had to be postponed until Grace was up to hearing all about it, per Dr. André's strict orders.
The following morning, Grace came around slowly. Sittingthrough a three-hour church service was out of the question. Her head was clearer, although she couldn't shake an ugly cough-syrup hangover. She even managed a labored smile when she told Dré how proud he'd made her and thanked him for his attentiveness. André admitted that Wallacehad coached him on his bedside manner but he couldn't read Grace's expression after he'd come clean.
“Son, let me share something with you,” she said, proppingup pillows against her headboard. “Sometimes people do things they're sorry for later, including me. It's all a part of living, I guess. Your father made a mistake many years ago. He never meant to leave us, but he was so young then, and so was I. Our plans didn't even up when it came down to it, but he loves you. He waited a long time to try and prove it, but he finally came around. I think he deserves to get to know a special kid like you.” The enormous smile André hadn't yet grown into shone brightly on his face. “I've made some calls, and, well, if you want to, we can stop by and introduceyou to him.”
“Now? We can go now?” he beamed. “Ma, I'd really like that.”
“Okay, get yourself together, and I'll do something to my head.” Grace ran all ten fingers through her wild hair and laughed. “On second thought, I'll make do with a baseball cap. We don't have all day.” André shot out of her room with the quickness of a jungle cat. Grace allowed Wallace's words to resonate through her mind as she climbed out of bed.
Then give Edward what he wants. Let him meet his son and take it from there. André may never forgive you otherwise.
Grace finally felt she was up to the task and felt good about it, as long as it was on her terms.
Then give Edward what he wants. Let him meet his son and take it from there. André may never forgive you otherwise.
Grace finally felt she was up to the task and felt good about it, as long as it was on her terms.
After traveling to a swanky neighborhood she'd only heard about, Grace circled the block twice. Eventually, she spotted the red Caddy parked outside a beautiful split-level, light-colored brick house on the corner. Then out of nowhere, she noticed a gray minivan like the one she passed when leaving Greg in nothing but a towel and on his own to sort out things with the pissed off white woman who showed up late for her sloppy seconds. Grace thought it unusual that the minivan had the same soccer-mom sticker on the back window.
I guess there're a lot of kids taking up soccer these days,
she decided.
I guess there're a lot of kids taking up soccer these days,
she decided.
“Okay, Dré. Are you ready for this?” she sighed, hoping deep inside that she would be as well.
“Uh-huh,” he replied anxiously. “Let's go.”
“Just a second,” Grace stated abruptly. “No matter what happens, these people love you. It might take a little getting used to, for everyone, so soak it up and be strong.”
“Yes, ma'am.” André stared out of the car window as his mouth fell open. “That's a big house.”
“It's not so much bigger than ours,” she debated, slightly jealous that her son held praise for the other side of his gene pool. “I like my house just fine,” she added in a snippy tone.
“Me, too. Let's go see this one,” he urged, seconds before his feet hit the pavement.
Grace stood behind André as he rang the doorbell. She was nervous and vigilant, and she knew she should have been committed for popping up at Edward's house without giving him notice. André received a brisk elbow nudge when he pressed his face against the stained-glass cutout in the door. “Don't be acting all ghetto, like you haven't been anywhere,”Grace reprimanded him.
Someone was approaching the door from the inside. Grace wanted to duck and run but it opened too fast for her to make a swift getaway. Edward appeared wearing faded jeans, athletic tube socks, and a black concert T-shirt from the 1980s. He took a long look at Grace, then a short one at André. “Hey,” Grace announced cordially as if he had been expecting them. “Edward, aren't you going to invite us in?” she quipped, her voice high pitched and shaky. As Edward moved his lips to speak, a woman appeared behind him, a white woman.
“Eddie, who's this?” she asked, all June Cleaverâlike while studying André. When her eyes floated past the boy and connected with Grace's, the jig was up. She almost had a cow as her memory and recollection of seeing Grace before jarred her. The hateful look she tossed on her front porch would have gotten
Leave It to Beaver
cancelled.
Leave It to Beaver
cancelled.
Straight out of a scene from a prison courtyard, no one backed down from the standoff, so Grace slid into corporate mode and facilitated a meet-and-greet. “I'd prefer to do this inside, but it'll work just as well here. Edward Swenson, this is André Devon Hilliard, your son. Dré, shake the man's hand like I taught you.”
Edward lumbered forward, uncomfortable as all get-out. “Hey, man, uh ... André. It's a pleasure to finally meet you.” He shook the boy's hand like he didn't know when to let go. “Uhhh ... this is Muriel, your ... my wife.” The poor woman was as white as a sheet.
“Uhhh, h-hi André,” Muriel stammered, stumbling forward, while uneasy about getting too close to the black woman standing behind him. “Miss,” she saluted Grace, with a desperateexpression pleading for Grace to keep her secret quiet.
“Muriel,” Grace replied plainly, with an imagine-seeing-you-againsmirk.
“Oh, let's get inside,” Edward suggested finally. He peered up and down the street cautiously as if the neighbors were ready to turn him in to the homeowner's association for allowing two more black people into his home.
“Should I take off my shoes?” André asked after noting that neither Edward nor his petrified wife wore theirs over the plush white carpet.
“No-no, it's all right,” muttered Muriel. She motioned towardthe vast living area with high vaulted ceilings, then shot a nasty sneer in Edward's direction. “I'll get snacks,” she mouthed, barely audible. “Grace, dear, do you mind helpingme ... in the kitchen ... please?”
“That's a good idea. Why don't we leave the men alone to get acquainted?” Grace didn't have to guess what Muriel the soccer mom was dying to discuss. “Nice home, by the way,” Grace complimented during their short jaunt over sand-colored ceramic tile.
As soon as she set foot in the kitchen area, Muriel made a calculated about-face. She was pacing and wringing her hands, doubting she knew where to begin. “Look, Grace. I knew you recognized me the moment we met,” she chatterednervously. “I'm not proud of my affair with Gregory.”
Gregory
? “Eddie and I have been on the rocks for years, and we're working through it, but I justâ” she explained,barely treading water before Grace jumped in to save her.
Gregory
? “Eddie and I have been on the rocks for years, and we're working through it, but I justâ” she explained,barely treading water before Grace jumped in to save her.
“Hey, hey! Muriel. I don't care what you and Gregory, or you and Eddie have going on. Believe me, I have enough business of my own to see to. Don't concern yourself with me telling your husband because that's your thing. How you get by has nothing to do with me.”
Calmly considering Grace's nonthreatening attitude, Muriel nodded her appreciation. “Thank you. Does that mean you're not going to see Gregory anymore? I mean, this could get kinda sticky.”
Only moments before, Grace had let the married woman off the hook and there she was chomping at it again. “You're kidding me, right? You got issues. Greg should be the least of your worries, unless your affair isn't casualâoh my God, you're in love with him.” Grace knew she'd guessed correctlywhen Muriel turned beet red at the mere mention of it. “What's up with you? You have a thing for black men or something?”
“I don't want to talk about this anymore,” Muriel backpedaled.Her self-righteous tone had Grace fuming.
“Greg isn't the first, is he? There have been others.” Grace didn't await a response because her answer was written all over Muriel's face. “Yeah, you got issues.”
“Mommy! Mommy!” squealed two of the cutest little tan-coloredgirls with long curly hair. “It's a boy in there with Daddy, he's our brand-new brother, and he's brown,” one of them hooted.
“Hey, you guys,” Muriel greeted them, like the perfect homemaker. “Becca, May. This is Miss Grace. She's your brand-new brother's mommy.”
“She doesn't look all that brand-new to me,” the younger of the two complained. That was May. Grace figured her for around four years old, and the other one at six or so.
“That's because she's not new, Silly,” Becca blasted her younger sibling. “She just looks old because she's so brown.”
“Okayyy,” Grace said aloud. “It's nice meeting the two of you too. I'm going to check on the fellas.” Muriel's eyes followedher out into the hall. She wondered how long Grace would keep her word about Gregory, if at all.
“So, how's it going in here?” Grace inquired, shrouded in fake merriment.
“Oh fine, fine,” was Edward's take on it.
“Yeah, Ma. We're talking about basketball and school and stuff,” André chimed in.
“Good, then I'll be back to get Dré in a couple of hours, if that's fine with you Edward.” She'd picked up that trick from Wallace. There was no way in the world Edward had it in him to refuse sharing this special moment in time with his son, as least not to André's face. “By the way, nice house you got here,
Eddie
.”
Eddie
.”
“Oh yeah, thanks,” he said, like his mouth was full of rocks. “We'll talk, we'll talk later, Grace.”
“I'm certain we will, at that,” she chuckled on her way out.
Grace continued to laugh as she started her car, lookingback at Edward's house. The empty expression on his face when Grace announced that their son was staying behindwas a Kodak moment. Muriel, on the other hand, was a flatout head case. She had more skeletons buried in her backyard than a Civil War cemetery. One black man wasn't enough to satisfy her cravingsâshe had to rack them up by the shipload. Edward must have been coming up short between the sheets, Grace assumed, and she couldn't have been happier that it wasn't her having to hunt for homeboys in the minivan after years with dear ole
Eddie
.
Eddie
.
After Grace hummed to the R&B station all the way home, she opened her freezer for an ice cream treat. Feeling free and easy, her pleasant humming continued until someoneknocked at her door. She put the ice cream back and then strolled into the foyer, praying that it wasn't Edward all burnt out on the father-son time already and returning André, slightly used.
Shelia pounded at Grace's door again, with Linda shaking her head. “She might be asleep,” Shelia told her while rappingon it more persistently.
Grace peeked out of the side window. She recognized Linda's car in her driveway, then playfully snatched the door open. “Why are y'all out here trying to knock a hole in my house?”
“That wasn't none of y'all,” Linda replied. “That was her.” Linda sold out Shelia and then barged in. “Move, Grace, we're hungry. I mean, we came to visit our sick friend, but since we don't see one, we're hungry.”
“And I want to tell you all about Harold and my new icebox,”Shelia offered, jutting her chest out as if the twins had something to do with the latest appliance to accessorize her overstocked showroom.
“Come on in then.” Grace stepped aside before Shelia ran her over the way Linda had. “Thanks for checking on poor little ole me, but Wallace hooked me up some soup to make it all better.”
“Ooh, Wallace. Schoolteachers make house calls now?” Shelia snipped, envy abounding. “Is he still here?”
Grace walked toward the kitchen, knowing that her cronies were sure to be in perfect step, tracing hers. “No, and he hasn't been here yet.”
“All right, there's a story here, and I won't be denied.” Linda plopped down in a chair and Shelia shoved her face in the refrigerator.
“Who has ever been so sick that they needed one, two, three quarts of soup,” Shelia counted. “That man wanted you to get well soon, for real.”
Once her guests' bowls were simmering hot, Grace broke everything down for them. She shared her son's spotlight in the sun at the basketball game, her impromptu date with Wallace, Wallace's advice regarding Edward's desire to meet Dré, and Grace giggled all the way through her synopsis explaininghow she'd dumped André, practically on his daddy's doorstep for milk and cookies prepared by that hot-in-the-tailhomemaker married to Edward.
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