When the Fairytale Ends (14 page)

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Authors: Dwan Abrams

BOOK: When the Fairytale Ends
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“No, it's not, baby girl,” Franklin assured her, and he dropped on his knees between her legs and held both of her hands in his. “Don't blame yourself.”
“I have to,” she said, still looking off into the distance with blank eyes. “My sister and I haven't been home in four years, since we went off to college on the West Coast. We graduated not that long ago, and it was my idea for us to come home.” She sighed. “I knew that there was bad blood between Kristen and Mama. That's why I don't like leaving her alone with Mama. I don't trust her. I should've been over there while she was at the house, but Kristen tricked me.” Kaiya looked over at Greg, and her eyes seemed to plead with him to believe her. “She was asking me about my plans for today, and I told her that I was spending the whole day with Frankie. I should've known right then that she was up to something for questioning me about my whereabouts. Kristen is sneaky. You have to watch her.”
Greg didn't need someone to tell him that. He'd had plenty of firsthand experience to attest that what Kaiya had just said was no opinion—it was a fact. Greg looked over at Shania and squeezed her arm, making sure that his wife had just heard what Kristen's
own
sister had said about her.
“Well, it's still not your fault, baby girl,” Franklin promised her, and tugged at her hand until she looked at him. “You don't have control over other people's actions. You can't blame yourself for something another adult did. Your sister's gotta answer to God for herself.”
Before Franklin could finish, the doctor walked into the waiting room, and since he was smiling, Greg took that as a good sign, and rightfully so. The doctor explained to them that they had pumped Mother Washington's stomach, and she was feeling better already—awake, talking, alert, and ready to get out of the cold hospital.
Greg could almost see a comforting blanket of pure relief settle upon everyone in the room.
Then the doctor said, “She says the last thing she remembers is taking a handful of Excedrin to help with a headache, but what we pumped out of her stomach was not Excedrin. Does anyone know how she could manage to take such a high dose of Percocet?”
Kaiya spoke up first and her eyes were large, round circles, edged with what looked like fear. “Mama's eyes aren't good,” she explained. “She must've grabbed the wrong bottle.”
Greg stared over at the young lady, and it took all his willpower to keep his jaw from dropping. Even now, looking in her eyes, he knew Kaiya didn't buy her own story a bit more than he did. Why was she taking up for her sister? Why was she covering her tracks? Was it because she was scared of her? Was it because she didn't want to see her sister charged with criminal negligence? Or was it something else? Was she in on this thing as well?
He recalled from his memory Mother Washington saying something about one of her daughters being like a vulture, just sitting around and waiting for her to die. What if both of her daughters were vultures? What if both of them were putting on a show? And what if they took up for each other, covering each other's tracks so that no one would figure out what they were doing and exploit them?
“You know what?” Greg said aloud, even though he was talking more so to himself. “When they release Mother Washington, she's coming to stay with us, Shania. There's no way I could leave her there by herself again. Thank God we got there when we did. What if the next time we show up too late?”
No matter what Kaiya, Kristen, or anybody else said, in his heart, Greg felt like this was a failed attempt to send Mother Washington to an early grave. Though this time was a failure, Kristen, and/or Kaiya, would make sure that the next attempt was a success.
The doctor told them that if all went well, they would release Mother Washington first thing in the morning. Kaiya asked the doctor if it was okay for her to have visitors. When he nodded, Kaiya was about to go visit her, but Greg asked if he could go in first. Upon Kaiya's approval, Greg left.
He pressed open her room door slowly and walked into the room, smiling big. It pained him deeply to see her under the covers of a hospital bed, her arm outstretched and hooked to an IV.
“How're you feeling?”
Mother Washington gave him her toothless grin as he pulled up a chair beside her bed. “Well,” she said with a smile, “at least my headache is gone.”
He knew she had said that to pull a smile out of him, but he didn't feel like laughing. He reached out and held her cold hand. “Mother, when I went in there and found you on that bathroom floor—” He choked up and looked down in his lap, shaking his head. His voice broke when he said, “I was so scared.”
“Don't be scared for me,” Mother Washington said, and leaned forward just a tad so she could grab his knee and give it a good shake. “When the good Lord is ready to call me home, ain't nothing you or a soul can do to keep me here. And you best believe this. When God's ready for me, I'm ready for Him. I's got peace in my soul.”
He nodded his head as he let her words soak in. Then he said, “Mother, when they release you from the hospital, will you please come stay with me and Shania—just for a little while? I want to be able to keep a close eye on you.”
Mother Washington pursed her lips tight. “I don't like the thought of Satan running me outta my own house. But God gives us common sense too. So I think you're right, Gregory. It may be best for me to stay with you and your wife for a little while.”
Relieved, Greg leaned forward and kissed the back of her wrinkled hand.
“I know my baby Kaiya out there somewhere, ain't she?”
Greg nodded.
“Can you send her in to me, bless her heart? I need to talk to her.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Greg said and stood to his feet. He kissed her forehead, told her he loved her, then headed out to the waiting area.
He told Kaiya that her mother was asking for her; then he wrapped an arm around Shania's waist, gave Franklin a dap, and left the hospital. Once seated in his car, he called his pastor and gave him a heads-up on the situation.
No sooner than Greg got off the phone, all sorts of thoughts about Kristen and Kaiya infiltrated his brain. He didn't know what was up with those two, but he was determined to find out.
Eleven
The next morning, Greg forced himself out of bed bright and early just so he could lock himself in his office and have a conference call with the representative doing his market research.
When he finished, he called the hospital to see what time they were releasing Mother Washington, only to find out that her release time and date hadn't been determined yet. Concerned, he asked to be transferred to her room, only to find out that she had been moved to another room and was currently undergoing lab work.
“Lab work for what?” Greg questioned.
The nurse on the phone replied politely, “I'm sorry, but I'm not able to disclose that information over the phone. But when a patient goes down to the lab, it's basically for blood work, to run a few tests—things of that nature.”
“Okay,” Greg said. “Should I try calling back in an hour or two?”
“You can give it a shot.”
Greg thanked the nurse and hung up the phone. He glanced at his iPhone and saw that he had a new text message. The message was from Franklin and it read: About to ride to Macon. Wanna join me?
Greg texted back: don't u have a job?
Franklin replied: yeah, but I called off today; need a break from that place. u riding w/me or what?
He had to agree with Franklin; he needed a break too. Furthermore, he looked forward to any opportunity to stop by and see his parents. Since he hadn't seen them in a while, a visit was definitely in order.
He woke Shania by placing a kiss atop her forehead.
She yawned and smiled at him, then said with her eyes still closed, “Where you headed?”
“Out riding with Frank. Is that okay?”
With her eyes still closed, she nodded. “Love you.”
“Love you too, babe.” He kissed her forehead again and took a few moments to stare at her beauty, which continued to radiate on her face even when she was sleeping. It touched his heart that his wife chose to believe in him rather than the lies that Kristen had tried to feed her yesterday. Her trust meant everything to him, and he would never intentionally do anything to breach the trust she had in him.
He leaned over for one quick peck on the lips, then grabbed his riding gear and headed outside. Greg met up with Franklin at Franklin's garage. Franklin told him that he didn't have any particular reason for going to Macon other than he just felt like going, and he wanted to feel the wind whipping against his face. Greg figured the trip was spontaneous, considering the short notice Franklin had given him.
“How much sleep did you get last night, man?” Franklin asked him.
As guilty as he felt to admit this, Greg said, “Boy, I slept like a baby. I was just so wore out. Me and Shania.”
Franklin pulled on his helmet. “I stayed up with Kaiya all night. Yesterday really shook her up, man. We had a real long, deep conversation. I've never had a conversation so deep before with a chick.” Franklin threw his leg over his bike, then said, “Serious question, G. How much you know about Kaiya and her sister? About their past?”
Greg gave his head a good scratching over before donning his helmet. “To be honest, not much, man. I only know that their biological mom died at a young age, and Mother Washington took them in and raised them like they were her own children. That's about it.”
“Well, she told me everything last night. Everything.”
Greg revved up his engine and Franklin revved his up as well. In order to be heard over the loud purring of the motors, Greg yelled, “Real talk, Frank. You think she had something to do with Mother Washington and her overdose?”
Franklin emphatically shook his head. “No, man. That was all Kristen. Guarantee it.”
Greg hoped that his friend was telling the truth. He hated to think that Mother had two vultures circling her. Kristen alone was bad enough. Forcing himself to push thoughts of Mother Washington and her two adopted daughters aside, he followed Franklin and merged onto the highway. They stopped at a red light that held much longer than they expected, and while they waited for the light to change, Franklin said, “So how're you holding up, man? You had any luck with a job yet?”
Greg shook his head. “No, not yet.” A few more seconds passed as they watched the long line of cars make their left turn. Greg said, “Frank, I'm doing market research and applied for a start-up business loan to open a classic car restoration and accessories shop.”
“For real, man?” He sounded surprised; then Franklin frowned. “If you want to start your own business, why don't you just ask Shania to lend you the money?”
“'Cause I don't want her money. I want to do this thing myself. Plus, if the business goes under, heaven forbid, I couldn't live with myself knowing I had lost her money like that.”
Again, Franklin frowned. “G, man, I feel you, and I know where you coming from. But, man, that's your wife. Y'all are a team. Y'all need to be on the same page, working together.”
Greg balanced the bike between his legs and put both hands on the handlebars as the turning traffic finally came to a stop. “Look, if I get the loan, would you be willing to help me? I ain't asking you to quit Mutual Living, or anything like that. Just . . . you know, lend me your expertise, help me get some business, just to get the ball rolling.”
“You know you my dude, and you know I got you. If you in, then I'm down for whatever. We can do this thing together. Forget Mutual Living.”
Had Greg's helmet not been on, Franklin would've seen Greg's eyebrows nearly reach his hairline. At the most, he had expected Franklin to help him out a little bit, but he had never expected Franklin to be so willing to give up that huge monthly paycheck from Mutual Living for something that wasn't even a guarantee. Franklin joked around a lot, but Greg could see it in his eyes that he wasn't joking about this. God couldn't have given him a better best friend.
Surprised that his throat felt clogged with tears, Greg held out his fist in his friend's direction. Franklin nodded his head a few times, then touched fists with Greg.
The light turned green and Greg and Franklin situated themselves on their bikes and drove off. They stopped at the nearest gas station to fuel up, and Greg called his mom to let her know that Franklin and he would be stopping by for a brief visit. Then they headed to Macon.
As they rode, Greg felt free. All of his senses seemed to come alive as he experienced a heightened sense of awareness. He seemed to notice every vehicle on the road, every groove in the pavement, and every bug in the air as they spattered on his face guard and windshield.
A couple of hours later, the men found themselves parking their bikes in Greg's parents' driveway. They left their helmets on top of their seats and made their way to the front door of the plantation-style home and rang the bell. Greg was a bit nervous about revealing his new motorcycle to his mother. His gut feeling told him that it wouldn't set well with her.
Mrs. Crinkle greeted them with a wide smile and hugs for both of them. She was so excited to see them that she didn't even pay attention to the vehicles they had arrived on. She ushered them inside, and they made their way into the country kitchen and enjoyed fried chicken, potato salad, turnip greens, and corn bread for lunch.
“I figured you'd be hungry,” Mrs. Crinkle said as the men stuffed their faces. “So, what brings you here?”
Before Greg could answer, Franklin blurted out, “We just wanted to put some more miles on Halle and see how fast she could go.”
“Halle? Don't you mean Shania? And what do you mean by ‘miles'?”
Greg tried to hit Franklin's leg under the table, but Franklin was too busy smiling in Mrs. Crinkle's face to pay attention to the incinerating glare Greg was trying his best to send him.
“That's what he named his bike. Halle. And if you ask me, the name fits 'cause that's a pretty bad bike,” Franklin said.
Mrs. Crinkle lowered her fork to her plate and her face lost two shades of color. “Please tell me you're talking about a bike with spokes and pedals.”
Franklin almost choked on the greens. Finally, he glanced over at Greg, but it was too late. Though Greg still wore the incinerating glare, the damage had already been done. Franklin held up his hands and told him with his eyes that he thought his mother already knew. Greg kicked him under the table and Franklin frowned, then kicked him back.
“You mean to tell me that you had the audacity to ride over here on a
motorcycle?
” Greg's mother asked.
Greg couldn't bring himself to answer her question, but his silence was answer enough.
Mrs. Crinkle's jaw dropped. She gave her son an intense stare, then pushed away from the table and stomped over to the window. She pulled back the heavy drapes and gasped. He might as well have driven a boa constrictor over, rather than a bike.
“Gregory, I
know
you didn't ride that thing over here. Tell me it's not yours.”
Greg felt his neck and ears grow hot, and he wanted to reach across the table and slap that goofy grin off of Franklin's face. Franklin was chewing his greens and munching on his corn bread like it was a bag of hot buttery popcorn and he was sitting at the cinema, enjoying the show.
Greg could tell by his mother's tone and expression that there was no diffusing the situation. A part of him felt like a five-year-old. He wanted to say, “I got a bike, but don't forget, Neil got one first.” At least that would take some of the heat off of him.
After mulling over the thought of being a tattletale, he decided against it. What would he gain by throwing his only brother under the bus? he reasoned. Instead, he manned up and handled the situation.
Making direct eye contact, Greg explained, “I got the bike on my birthday. It's what I wanted.”
Mrs. Crinkle shook her head and retook her seat at the table. “I don't know what's the matter with my two sons. First Neil, and now you?” She sighed in frustration. “I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Ever since you were a child, you've been following Neil's lead.”
She knew about Neil's bike? When had that happened?
As if reading his thoughts, she explained, “He sent me a postcard of him and his bike and wrote at the bottom ‘Mom, it's my bike. Please don't be mad.'”
Franklin held his side, laughing. “No, that boy didn't. Did he break it to you like that, Mrs. Crinkle?”
“Frank, shut up,” Greg said.
“You shut up, Greg. You should've told mom dukes you got a bike. What kind of sorry excuse for a man are you?”
“Say one more word and I'm coming across this table.”
“Boys!” Mrs. Crinkle yelled and hit her hand against the tabletop. “You are grown behind men,” she said through her teeth, “so act like it.”
“He started it,” Greg said, then wished he could've retracted the words as soon as they left his mouth. If he felt like a five-year-old before, now he felt like a three-year-old.
“How does Shania feel about this?” Mrs. Crinkle pressed the issue.
Greg didn't want to keep harping on the bike, but he didn't want to be disrespectful, either. “She was understandably mad at first, but now she's okay with it.” He plastered a grin on his face. “I didn't come all this way to talk about my bike. Where's Dad?”
“He'll be right back. He had to make a quick run to the store.”
Greg mixed his favorite drink of sweet tea and Sprite. He noticed Franklin's disapproving frown and offered to fix him a glass. When Franklin declined, Greg said, “Don't sleep on this drink, man. It's good.” He held the glass to his lips and poured it down the hatch.
Mrs. Crinkle said to Franklin, “Greg's been drinking that since he was ten years old.”
Franklin smirked and picked up his glass. “I'll stick with a good old-fashioned glass of tea. Thank you very much.” He winked.
“So how are you and Shania doing?” his mother asked. “How's she doing with Eat Your Heart Out?”
Greg gave her a quick overview of their relationship, leaving out the part about how they both had been pretty testy with each other over the past few days. Then he told her about Shania's possible catering of the governor's induction ceremony.
“Wow, that's great!” his mother exclaimed. “And what about you, Franklin? Have you stopped bouncing around from woman to woman yet?”
“Yes, ma'am.” Franklin nodded. “I've already met my wife. We're just not married yet.” And then Franklin went into his long spiel about Kaiya, and how they met, and how much they loved vintage cars, and how they rode through town, side by side on their bikes. He went on and on, too excited to realize that he was talking too much.
Finally Greg cut him off and said, “I think that's enough, Franklin. She gets the point. You're in love.”

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