Until My Heart Stops Beating (9 page)

              Arriving in front of her house, she thanked Sal and opened the passenger door on the opposite side of Declan. He attempted to get out.

              “No. Don’t.”

              “Makeba I-“

              Cutting him off she held up her hand. “I promise I’ll call you in the morning. Give me tonight. Please.”

              Reluctantly, he closed his door and nodded his head.

              “Ok.”

              She exited the car and ran up the stairs unlocking the door to her house. Without looking back she entered, closing the door behind her.

              “Makeba, is that you,” she heard her mother call from the kitchen.

              Swallowing hard then taking a deep breath before she spoke. “Yes mama. It’s me.”

              Hoping she’d be upstairs before her mother came out, she increased her speed but she was not fast enough.

              “How was your date?”

              Lowering her head to conceal the tears which came bursting forth, she held onto the banister for support. With concern for what was bothering her daughter, Mrs. Jones dried her hands on her apron and rushed up the stairs to her side.

              “C’mon,” she said as she helped her daughter up the remainder of the steps.

              Once inside her bedroom. Makeba allowed her mother to escort her to the bed. Sitting on the very edge, she glanced up through teary eyes at her mom.

              “Tell mama what happened honey!” She wiped Makeba’s face with the bottom of her apron.

              After pulling herself together Makeba began to speak. “Mama, it was not a good night.”

              “Why not?’

              “For the first time in my life, I was personally introduced to bigotry.”

              “What?” Mrs. Jones was enraged.

              “We went out to dinner with one of Declan’s longtime friends and potential investor. Well, turns out he was the biggest racist I could have ever imagined. From the initial introduction I knew sitting at that table with him wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience and boy was I right. He wouldn’t even shake my hand properly and what little handshake we did do he wiped his hand off on his suit jacket afterwards as if I had some sort of plague.”

              “Oh honey, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

              “I’m not.”

              Looking up they noticed her father standing under the frame of the door.

              “Oh daddy!”

              “Barry!”

              “Well, I’m not. This is not the only time you are going to encounter an experience like this if you continue seeing this man. It will only get worse. I don’t give a damn how dark the first family is. It does nothing for race relations. Listen, baby,” he continued as he closed the gap between them, “I’m trying to save you from a shitload of heartache and pain. End it. End it now and find you a good young black man. They’re out there, just be patient.”

              “Get out Barry. Now! she doesn’t need this from you right now. She’s been through enough already tonight.”

              Throwing up his hands, he left.

              Makeba buried her head in her mother’s chest. Mrs. Jones lifted her chin so that they would be eye level.

              “Baby, I have never sugar coated anything for you and I’m not going to start now. Your father is not completely wrong. He has every right to be concerned but I think we’ve come a long way. I don’t think it’s nearly as bad as he proclaims it to be but there are still some people out there who feel like you should stick with your own kind.”

              “Do you feel that way?”

              She chuckled. “Honey, you can’t help who you fall in love with. If that was true I would have saved myself a lot of heartache with the knuckleheads I ran into before I met your father.

              Makeba laughed.

              “I’m glad to see a smile on your face. Regardless of what anyone thinks or says, ultimately the decision to be with this man lies with you and if you care for him then it’ll be worth any battle.”

              “Thank you mama.”

              “I love you baby. Get some rest.”             

              She kissed her on the cheek then left leaving Makeba feeling a whole lot better than when she came in and alot to think about.

              As promised, the next morning she placed a call to Declan. Witnessing the sadness in his voice, she knew it was because of what transpired the night before.

              “Are you ok?”

              He couldn’t believe she was worrying about his welfare. He wasn’t the one that was mistreated and made to feel like he was invisible at a table full of people. It was her.

              “Honey, I’m fine. I’m worried about you”

              She chuckled. “Be honest, you’re worried that what happened is going to change things between us.”

              Feeling exposed he cleared his throat. “A little.”

              “It’s going to take a lot more than that to make me go away.’

              Breathing a sigh of relief he replied, “Thank goodness.”

              “You don’t have very much faith in me, do you?”

              “Makeba, this is all new to me as well. I didn’t know how deeply this was going to affect you, affect us. I don’t know what I would have done if you had decided not to see me again. I can’t say if you did that I wouldn't have understood.”

              “I can’t deny that I was hurt and bothered by that. I have never experienced anything like that before, not to that extent anyway. Look Declan it’s over now. I want to move past this.”

              “So do I.”

              Silence.

              “Will I see you tonight?”

              “Would you like to see me tonight?”

              “Absolutely.”

              “Then you will.”

              “Good. I have to check up on a few things at Serenity so I’ll leave the room key at the desk. Can you be here by 1:00 pm?”

              “Yes. Why?”

              “I just want you to be here when I return, that’s all.”

              “Will do.”

              “ Thank you honey. I love you.”

              “I love you more.”

              “Until when?”

              “Until my heart stops beating, Mr. Whitaker.”

              He laughed then ended the call.

              Two hours later Makeba stood in front of the guest service desk asking for key to suite number 623. A young, bubbly African American woman whose name tag read Stephanie, asked to see identification. She obliged her by retrieving her driver’s license from her purse and handed it to her. Once her identification was verified Stephanie got the attention of the bellhop. He approached the desk.               “Josh, this is Ms. Jones. Can you please take her bag to room 623?”

              “No, that won’t be necessary. I can take it.”

              “April, cover me for a moment while I escort Miss Jones to The Pamper Mill,” said Stephanie.

              Confused, Makeba grabbed her bag and held her hand out for the key card but Stephanie pretended not to notice.

              “Can you follow me, Miss Jones.”

              “Where?” she asked clearly agitated.

              “Mr. Whitaker arranged for a spa day for you. You will start with a manicure and pedicure. Afterwards you will proceed to the massage area for your deep tissue massage.”

              “Really?” she asked suddenly excited.

              Smiling, Stephanie said, “Yes and Josh will take your bag now.”

              She smiled as she handed her bag to Josh. “Thank you.”

              “Not a problem ma’am,” he replied and walked off.

              Two hours later, Makeba was done with her pampering and was feeling like a brand new woman. After showering and getting dressed, she left the spa and went to the guest services requesting her bag. She had forgotten that her bag was taken up to the room and was reminded of such by Stephanie.

Where Are You Going?

              Makeba endured enough crap over the weekend to last her a lifetime. She didn’t sign up for this. She tried with everything in her power to deal with whatever the haters were throwing her way; the snide remarks, the disapproving glances, and lack of courtesy she received while visiting the Whitakers. It was hard for her to grasp how in this day and age people were still consumed with so much bigotry. Not to mention the many encounters she had to face with Deena that made her feel like she was in constant competition for Declan’s attention. She didn’t have the time nor the energy for any of it. One thing she would not entertain under any circumstances is competition for a man, not even him.

              Hurrying past the crowd and walking out on the deck, she held onto the banister closing her eyes while taking a deep breath in an effort to calm herself down. It was a tough battle fighting against the tears that wanted so badly to break free, a battle she lost. Even through closed eyelids she couldn’t keep them from escaping her eyes.

              “You know you remind me of myself some sixty years ago.”

              Quickly Makeba wiped away her tears before turning around.

              “How so?”

              Granny Whitaker rolled her wheelchair closing the space between them.

              “In my younger years, I met a man who stole my heart. He was handsome, wise and dark as hazelnuts.”

              Makeba chuckled as she wiped her eyes.

              “The mere mention of his name made my heart palpitate. Evan. Every time I heard it, it sounded like music from heaven.”

              She closed her eyes. A smile spread across her lips as she reminisced.

              “It was the pre-Civil Rights Era and even though things had changed, mixing of races was still unacceptable by society, but we didn’t care. We may have been young but honey there’s no age discrimination when it comes to love.” She placed her right hand over her heart. “When I looked at him all I saw in his eyes was the love he had for me and I suspect it was the same for him. How could he not see it? My eyes glistened and my heart beat rapidly in a melodic tune when we were near each other. For a while, we were able to keep our relationship secret but not for too long. My dad got wind of it and forbade me to see him ever again. He threatened that if I attempted to contact Evan in any way he’d have him arrested on trumped up charges or worse, killed.” She looked up at the starry sky as her eyes began to water.

      Makeba kneeled down beside her. “You must have really loved him for it to still have this kind of effect on you after all these years.”

      She smiled. “I’ll never forget the year. It was 1951. I was a twenty two year old who romanticized a lot. I guess you can attribute it to my love of old movies with Bing Crosby, Gene Kelly and Katherine Hepburn. They made love seem so grand and easily attainable especially in Paris,” she laughed. “I was a lover of love and enjoyed loving Evan. We didn’t stop at the threat of my father. It took some time for us to heed the seriousness of his threats. That changed rather quickly one day when Evan and I met in our secret place. It was a meadow, nothing but open grassland hidden by big tall trees about a half a mile away from my house. It was beautiful. My dad and uncle somehow found our secret place. To this day, I don’t know how they found out. I knew from the fury in his eyes it wasn’t going to be good. He called Evan a nigger and charged at him. I tried to stop my dad but my uncle grabbed me locking me in a stronghold that was impossible for me to break free of. They forced me to observe as they beat him into a bloody pulp. With every hit I cringed. I tried to turn my head but I couldn’t. He had such a hold on me that I couldn’t move not even an inch. I cried and pleaded with my father to stop. I love him dad, I yelled but to no avail until I yelled he was the father of the baby I was carrying.” She closed her eyes as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “That caused them to stop immediately. When they finished beating him I could barely recognize him as the man that owned my heart. They left him there alone, barely clinging to life as they pulled me along. Later that evening when we made it back to our house, my father whooped me like I was a small child and not the young adult I was. His anger was so great that I think he forgot who he was chastising. I think he tried to literally beat the baby out of me.” She closed her eyes as she balled both her hands into a tight fist. Tears flowed effortlessly down her cheeks. “I screamed at the sting of every lashing. It stung my flesh as if someone was slicing me with a sharp razor. My mom had no words. She looked on like a spectator at a sporting event. I remember glancing at her through pleading eyes for her to rescue me, but she didn’t. I knew she was able to comprehend the unspoken cries for help when she covered her mouth with her hands and began shaking her head as she stormed out the room leaving me alone to endure a thrashing that I would never forget. I wouldn’t have wished that on anyone.”

              “Oh granny Whitaker,” Makeba whispered sympathetically as she rubbed the back of her hand.

              “When he was satisfied the punishment fit the crime he stopped, and left my room but not before expressing the shame I brought upon the family. He called me a nigger lover and said he was disgusted that I had allowed myself to become with child by a filthy black man. He said he’d never claim kinship to the likes of a brown-skinned baby and that my child was not made from blood of his blood. I was told that I would stay out of sight and deliver in secret then my child would be given away. He also said that if I ever got caught with Evan again he’d make sure it would be the last.”

              They both were crying rivers.

              “I’m so sorry you had to experience that.”

              “No worries child,” she said wiping away her tears then reaching for Makeba’s hand. “I was weak. I let my family and society dictate who I could and could not love. I could have run away with Evan. It’s not like he didn’t ask me to, but I didn’t. After the incident in the meadow I made sure I would never see him again.”

              “What did you do?”

              “I hopped on a bus from South Carolina to Chicago and I never looked back. Many may question why but I did it out of love. Being with him would have hurt him. It would have put his life in peril, but being without him was torture for me. So, I did what I thought was best for the both of us. I left. I was angry with my father for many years to come, not only for what he had done to me but for what he had done to Evan as well and I was equally as upset with my mom for not coming to my rescue. She had always been a woman of little words but that day, as I suffered at the hands of the man that was supposed to love and protect me, I needed her to find the words and the strength to intercede. She didn’t though. The next time I saw my father was in his casket, seven years later. I returned a few years after that to say goodbye to my mom.”

              “Wow!”

              She pulled Makeba up. “What I’m saying to you is, life is too short to live with regrets. If you love my grandson nothing else matters. Do you hear me?” she said shaking her hands, “nothing else matters.”

              Makeba bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you so much for sharing your story with me but sometimes love alone just isn’t enough.”

              Granny Whitaker glanced at her with all the compassion she could muster. “It should be.”

              She snatched her hands away and ran towards the entrance to the house. Stopping abruptly, looking back over her shoulders she said, “Granny?”

              Granny turned her chair around to face her. “Yes child.”

              “What happened to your baby?”

              A tidal wave of emotions came crashing down on granny. Pushing back the tears she said, “I went to a home for pregnant young girls here in Chicago. They helped me find the perfect family for my little girl. I was convinced that since I was young with no husband and no family it was in the child’s best interest to give her to someone who could offer her everything that I couldn’t. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about her.”

              “You have one incredible story granny.”

              “One of many sweet girl.” She smiled.

              Makeba turned on her heels, went back inside the house and climbed the stairs heading to the bedroom she and Declan shared. She called the airport and booked a last minute fight then called a cab. Scurrying around the room, she packed everything that belonged to her neatly in her suitcases. Once she was sure she was leaving nothing behind she returned downstairs where everyone was except Declan and his brother Sam. After saying her departing greetings, she walked towards the door.

              “Good riddance. It was too much color in here anyway.”

              Stopping abruptly, she lowered her suitcases onto the floor and closed her eyes, sighing as she hung her head low, so low her chin touched her chest. No one was more surprised by what had happened next than Makeba. She turned on her heels then swiftly charged at Deena. Standing face to face with her. Without warning she slapped her with such force Deena stumbled back falling against an end table breaking it along with the lamp that sat upon it. Deena screamed obscenities as Ms. Whitaker and Declan’s sister Shyanne tried to help her up. Finally getting to her feet she tried to get at Makeba but was unable to. Shyanne and Ms. Whitaker held her back.

      “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised by your actions. You people are known for this type of behavior,” stated Ms. Whitaker as a matter of fact.

              “Mother!”

              “Don’t mother me. It’s the truth Shyanne.”

              Makeba smiled when she heard a sudden roar of laugher coming from granny Whitaker. She had no idea she had wheeled herself into the living room. Turning to her, she winked, grabbed her bags and left slamming the door behind her. There was no need to utter another word. Her actions said all that needed to be said and then some.

              Happy to see the taxi pulling up the moment she stepped out the door, she hurried toward the cab. The driver got out and placed her luggage in the trunk. Seconds later Declan and Sam pulled up behind them. Anxiety set in.

              “Hurry,” she told the driver.

              “Yes ma’am,” he replied hurrying back inside the vehicle.

              Makeba quickly got in closing the door behind her.

              “Makeba!” she heard her name as the taxi sped away.

              She was afraid to look back, knowing her leaving would hurt him but she was hurting too. She tried with everything in her to withstand all the negativity that came her way. Unfortunately, everyone has a limit and she had reached hers. No one was worth being ridiculed and attacked for, no one was worth the level of disrespect she had endured. Yes, she loved Declan but she could no longer be with him under the circumstances. If she did, it may require him having to make a choice between her and his family and she couldn’t put him in that predicament. It seemed history was repeating itself. Different time, same issues. Granny Whitaker was right. They were alike. She was running away from love too. It was best. Bigotry had won again by dividing and destroying the love of two people based solely on their differences.

~*~

              Upon pulling up to the departure level of the Chicago O’Hare International Airport, she took a deep breath as she looked back over her shoulders through the rearview window, no Declan in sight. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. She exited the cab as did the driver. Anxiously, she awaited the removal of her luggage from the trunk. Once they were removed she paid her fare then checked in her bags. Wasting no time, she entered the terminal gripping the handle of her rolling carry-on bag heading to the ticket counter.

              “I thought you loved me.”

              Coming to an abrupt stop, she closed her eyes at the sound of the familiar voice that echoed through the atmosphere.

              “I never thought of you as a liar.”

              Refusing to acknowledge the person who spoke those words, she resumed walking.

              “You promised you would love me until your heart stopped beating and being as though you are still breathing, and warm blood is still pumping through your veins, I’d say your heart is still functioning properly. In other words, it’s still beating.”

              Again stopping and taking a deep breath, she turned around to face him as she shook her head. Her heart melted at the sadness she witnessed in his eyes and the trembling sound of his words as they escaped his lips. It was official. Her actions was hurting him but still she had to do what she needed to do for her.

              “I can’t do this. I can’t pretend that there are no serious issues with our relationship Declan.”

              He moved closer then stopped as she held up her hand ordering him to keep his distance.

              His feelings of hurt had suddenly turned to anger. “When did you stop loving me?’

              “I haven’t.”

              “Then where are you going?”