Read When the Fairytale Ends Online

Authors: Dwan Abrams

When the Fairytale Ends (20 page)

BOOK: When the Fairytale Ends
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Shania inhaled. It was now or never. “Jonathan?”
“Yes, ma'am, Ms. Shania?” His voice changed, and she could almost picture him trying to sit a little straighter in bed.
“How're you feeling?”
“Okay, I guess.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “Just ready to get out of here and go home.”
“I bet so.” She exhaled, then took a deep, steadying breath before saying, “Jonathan, I want to apologize for how I acted the other night. I was completely out of line, and there is no excuse for my behavior. I've already apologized to Cheyenne, so now I'm offering an apology to you. Will you please forgive me?”
She held her breath while she waited for him to respond, and, boy, did he take his sweet time in responding.
“Ms. Shania,” he finally said, and his voice sounded heavy and serious, “I will forgive you under one condition.”
She cocked her eyebrow and frowned. “And what's that?”
“I will forgive you if you allow me to love your sister and give her my whole heart for the rest of my life.”
His words filled her throat with tears, and she'd never felt so humbled before in her life. She was so overcome with emotion, she wasn't sure if she could speak. Finally, she nodded her head and choked out, “It's a deal.”
After Shania ended the call, she felt a hundred pounds lighter—even though she knew with her appetite as of late, she would be putting on a few pounds soon. She went in search of her husband. Thankfully, he was off the phone. She bribed him with some loving in exchange for him to go on a treasure hunt for a plate of fast food that her stomach could actually hold down. He protested at first, but when she finished pleasing him, he slouched in his chair, let out a content sigh, and said, “Make sure it's not greasy, right?”
She grinned and replied, “That's right.”
Alone with her thoughts, she reflected on her conversation with Jonathan. He had sounded so mature. She wished she could get a good read of him. Was he for real? Was he sincere? Did he really love her sister? Only time would tell.
Sixteen
Greg got on his bike and went on the impossible mission of finding food that wasn't greasy or smelly. That alone ruled out most fast-food restaurants. He passed by an establishment that he knew served delicious grilled chicken salads that Shania loved, so he parked his bike and went inside. He ordered a salad for Shania, and the smell of chicken influenced his decision to order hot wings for himself. He drove home quickly, hoping the food would still be piping hot when he got there.
He pulled into his driveway and went inside to find Shania stretching and yawning on the couch. She glanced at him and turned her yawn into a smile when she spotted the bags. He could tell that she must've been pleased by his food choices.
He sat the bags next to her on the sofa while he went into the pantry to get two serving trays for them to place their food on. When he returned, Shania had already removed her large salad from the bag. He extended the legs of the trays and placed one in front of Shania. Removing the clear plastic lid covering the salad, she poured honey mustard dressing on top.
“Glad you remembered to tell them to hold the fried onions,” she said as she mixed the chicken strips, lettuce, and dressing.
He bit into a spicy wing, savoring the delicious food while he listened to her chat about apologizing to Jonathan, then about the couple who had called, asking her to cater their wedding.
While Shania was talking, Greg's cell phone rang loud and shrill.
“Go ahead and answer it,” she said.
Greg nodded his thanks, licked the tips of his fingers, and wiped them off with a napkin. He retrieved the phone from his pocket, and when he saw that it was his pastor calling, he frowned. They had just gotten off the phone less than an hour ago. Why was he calling back so soon? Frowning, he answered the call.
He tilted his head back and stared at the high ceiling when he heard his pastor say that the tumor in Mother Washington's brain ruptured, and the doctors couldn't stop the bleeding. Mother Washington had died, and he wanted Greg to perform the eulogy.
Something collapsed on the inside of him and the spicy chicken he had placed in his mouth suddenly tasted like a piece of salted cardboard. He spit the chicken into a napkin and wiped the taste off his tongue. On the inside, he felt cold and sterile, only able to mutter the words “I gotta go.” Then he hung up the phone.
“What's the matter?” Shania asked.
Unable to speak, Greg got up and went upstairs, where he got on his knees in prayer. While he prayed, his eyes emptied a bucket of tears down his face. With the back of his hand, he hurried and wiped his damp skin. He didn't like to cry, especially not around other people, because he thought it showed weakness.
Knowing that Shania must've been wondering what was going on with him, Greg went back downstairs to give her an explanation.
In the family room, Greg skimmed the familiar artwork, wedding portraits, and oddments, absorbing all that meant home and family. Rubbing his moist hands over his denim-covered thighs, Greg broke the news about Mother Washington to Shania.
Shania stopped eating and stared at him. Her eyes glistened with tears as she spoke. “Greg, I'm so sorry.” She reached for him, but he shook his head. Frowning, she retracted her arms. “What happened?” she asked, and her voice cracked.
He lowered his body onto the couch and wrapped his arms around himself. “According to Pastor, the tumor in her brain ruptured.”
She touched his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Biting his lower lip, Greg nodded his head.
“I think we should pray,” Shania suggested.
“I already did—”
“I mean together.”
She reached out to him, and he stared at her hand as seconds ticked by. Finally, he slipped his hand into hers and took a deep breath, trying to accept that Mother Washington was gone. He then released the air in a slow drag, as if he were blowing out cigarette smoke. He lowered his eyelids and prayed out loud.
Still feeling a bit unsettled after the prayer, Greg told Shania that he wanted to go ride his bike to help clear his mind. The chicken wings had lost their appeal, but apparently Shania hadn't lost her appetite, because she devoured her salad and his wings too.
Outside, Greg looked at the light blue sky with willowy clouds and wondered if Mother Washington's soul had ascended to heaven. He checked his watch, and the time read 6:00
P.M.
He figured that he could ride for an hour and still be back before darkness fell.
As he rode along the open road, he thought about the first time he had met Mother Washington. The church had decided to have a program honoring the church mothers. The purpose of the program was to give people their flowers while they were still living, rather than waiting until they were dead and gone to shower them with gifts and love. Pastor Ray had made a point of letting all ten elderly women know how important they were to the church, their families, and the community.
Mother Washington stood out from the bunch in her colorful suit and wisecracking antics. It seemed like every time she opened her mouth, wisdom laced with humor poured out. He'd miss her sense of humor even more than her radiant smile and the way she called him “suga.”
Even though rumors about her late husband and estranged daughters had definitely followed Mother, he had never given much ear to them. In the words of Franklin, haters were gonna follow you wherever you went. And for Mother Washington to be such a lovable, giving, selfless woman, it could only be expected that she was going to have people who hated on her. If they hated on Jesus, who did no wrong, how could anyone on earth expect to be exempt from it?
 
 
Greg surprised himself at how hard Mother Washington's death had hit him. He knew that he cared about her and that they shared a close bond, but he didn't think losing her would hurt so much.
Tears blurred his vision, and he decided that it was time for him to go back home. He thought about calling Franklin but decided not to. As of late, he and Franklin had been spending less and less time together. But Greg wasn't jealous. He was actually happy that his friend had finally found such positive companionship in a woman. And he knew that Kaiya had to be taking Mother Washington's death just as hard as him, if not more so. There was no doubt in his mind that Franklin was doing his best to comfort Kaiya in her time of need.
With a horde of thoughts bouncing off of each other in his mind, Greg veered off to the nearest exit, intending to turn around. A car honked, catching his attention. He realized that he had clipped the other driver, and he could tell by the obscene gesture that the guy had given him that he wasn't happy about it.
Greg realized that he needed to hurry up and get off the road. Careless mistakes caused accidents and he needed to get his mind right. The realization that he could've been hit made his heart beat a tattoo onto his chest. His faith made him believe that he'd see Mother Washington again someday, but he didn't want that day to be today.
Seventeen
Five days had passed since the death of Mother Washington, and the funeral services were being held this rainy Saturday afternoon. Shania remembered that it had rained the day of her parents' funeral services too. As a little girl she had heard that rain on the day of a funeral meant that the heavens were weeping.
A gloomy cloud hovered over her all morning. She hated attending funerals. After the death of her parents, she stopped going to funerals. The only reason she was attending this one was to support Greg.
Dressed in all black, Shania slicked her hair back into a neat bun. She blotted some pressed powder on her face, applied a thin line of liquid eyeliner on her top lid, and smeared a coat of lip gloss on her full lips. Then she turned sideways in the mirror, trying to determine if the dress she was wearing made her look fat. She decided that it did, so she ditched it in favor of a dress that cinched just below her breasts, making her waist look smaller than it really was.
Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since the night before. Realizing that she couldn't make it through the morning without putting some food in her belly, she decided to fix some breakfast. First, though, she went down the hall to Greg's office to check on him and find out if he wanted anything to eat.
She stood in the doorway, looking at Greg as he read the Bible. With the book resting on his lap, he looked up at Shania.
“How're you feeling this morning?” she asked. “You didn't get a wink of sleep last night.”
“I know I didn't.” He closed the Bible and scratched the back of his head. “But I'm all right. Just trying to get mentally prepared to speak at the funeral.”
Her heart went out to him. “Are you hungry?”
He placed the Bible on his desk and stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from his dark slacks. “I don't have much of an appetite. I'll eat later. You already know there's going to be a dump load of soul food at the reception.” He got close enough to hug her and continued. “I know this must be hard for you.” He kissed the top of her head. “If you don't want to go, I understand. I wouldn't be mad if you stayed home and got some rest.”
She shook her head while he spoke, then leaned on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss against his lips. “I'm going, honey. As much as I hate funerals, there's no way that I'd let you go through this ordeal alone.” She tucked her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “We're a team.”
He nodded his head and looked off to the side, as though he had something on his mind. “Yeah,” he said, nodding, “we are a team.” He kissed her forehead again. “Thanks in advance for making this sacrifice.”
The sound of thunder caused Shania to jump, and she tried to laugh away her nervousness. Greg soothed her by rubbing his hands up and down her back. Being with him brought her a sense of comfort that she couldn't explain. She thought about all the times he had been there for her, like when her sister eloped, or both times Jonathan got shot. The least she could do was to be there for him during this difficult time. She knew how much Mother Washington meant to him, and Mother Washington meant a lot to her too. She'd never forgive herself if she didn't go and pay her final respects.
They cut their tender moment short, realizing that they were on limited time. They went into the kitchen, where Shania fixed a light breakfast consisting of mixed fruit and cereal. She was surprised when the food actually stayed down. Each of them appeared to be consumed with their own thoughts, so they didn't talk much while she ate.
At 11:00
A.M.
, Greg drove them to the church. When they arrived, the parking lot was already full. Had it not been for his reserved space in front of the church, they would've had to park across the street on the grass.
“A lot of people cared about Mother Washington,” Greg commented as he parked.
Shania smirked, hoping that this wouldn't be a drama filled event like so many funerals she had heard about. She wasn't up for any of the nonsense. She'd heard the rumors about Mother Washington's late husband being a pervert, and the thousands of rumors about why Mother Washington had
really
left her previous church. Whether the rumors were true or not, she could care less. She just prayed to God that no one showed up at the funeral acting ignorant and foolish.
Greg helped Shania out of the car before removing his jacket from a hanger in the backseat and putting it on. Luckily, the rain had cooled the temperature a bit and reduced the humidity. However, there was still a slightly sticky feel to the air, and the scent of wet earth was strong.
Shania removed her Jackie O–inspired sunglasses from her purse and secured them on the bridge of her nose. She looked up at the dark gray sky and saw clouds drifting slowly across the celestial sphere. She prayed that the dark clouds would stay over in the far corner of the sky until the burial services were over. Silently praying for strength for her husband and herself, she interlocked her fingers with Greg's and strolled into the building.
Nearly everyone wore black. There were a handful of people dressed in cream or white. The hushed tones in which people spoke sounded almost like bees buzzing around Shania's ears. She looked around into the many faces of the men and women in attendance, and solemn expressions covered their faces like masks.
When the youth from church saw Greg, they called his name and waved, only to be hushed and silenced by their parents. Greg waved back at them, then put a finger to his lips and gave them a wink. Shania smiled inwardly. If he was this great with kids, she had no doubt that being an excellent father would be a breeze.
Leading Shania by the hand, Greg escorted her down the center aisle and to the third pew. A 12 x 18 framed picture of Mother Washington looking quite regal sat propped up on a display stand next to her closed casket, surrounded by red roses and greenery. In the photo, she was proudly displaying the perfect white, pink-gummed dentures that she never, ever wore. It almost seemed as though her eyes were looking directly at Shania's. Shania squinted at the picture and gasped, then rubbed her eyes with both her fists. Either her eyes were playing tricks on her, or Mother Washington had just winked at her.
Greg looked at her, frowning. “You okay?”
Shania wanted to say, “No, I'm not okay. That woman just winked at me in her picture.” But she didn't want her husband to think that she'd tripped over the deep end, so she simply smiled and said, “I'm fine. Perfectly fine.”
Greg and Shania talked amongst themselves for several minutes, until Greg looked up and spotted Franklin and Kaiya. He waved them over.
Franklin looked dashing in his black three-piece suit with the periwinkle vest and matching tie. For once, he actually looked and acted very mature. He had Kaiya's hand tucked in the crook of his arm, and she looked like pure elegance in her all-black dress with a pair of spiked heels that strapped across her toes and thin ankles.
Franklin hugged Shania first, then gave Greg a hug and a hard thud on the back. “You straight?”
“I'm straight.” Greg nodded.
“You sure?”
Greg nodded again. “With God's help, I'm going to make it through this.”
“You look stunning, Kaiya,” Shania said and watched as the young lady blushed and politely thanked her for her compliment. “And you, Mr. Franklin,” Shania said, reaching over to straighten his tie just a bit, “finally look like a real man.”
“And you, Ms. Shania,” he replied, tapping the space just below her nose but just above her top lip, “finally look like a real man too.”
Shania didn't get it at first, but when she realized what he was talking about, she elbowed him in the side, hard enough to make him double over. Her punch forced a groan and a rush of air out of him. They got a few reprimanding stares, and she whispered an apology to the attendees as she glared at Franklin. Self-consciously, she fingered the space above her top lip, then leaned over and whispered in Greg's ear, “Do I really have a moustache?”
Greg chuckled and shook his head. “Franklin's just being the goof that he is.”
Shania rolled her eyes at him, then spoke quietly with Kaiya while Franklin and Greg spoke quietly as well. A few minutes later, she glanced at the back of the church and noted the time. She hated to interrupt them, but she shook Greg's arm and said in a low voice, “Honey, we need to take our seats. Service is about to start.”
Franklin sat right beside Kaiya, Mother Washington's nieces, nephews, two sisters, and three brothers. Shania and Greg parted ways with them and found empty seats on the second row.
As soon as Shania took a seat, nausea washed over her and the light breakfast that she'd eaten bubbled in her belly. “I think I need to go to the bathroom.”
“You need me to go with you?” Greg offered.
“No.” She shook her head, and just as she felt her breakfast rising in her throat, she held a hand over her mouth and took off running to the ladies' room. On the way to the restroom, she passed by Kristen, who she immediately remembered from Mother Washington's house, but she didn't have time to worry herself about the woman dressed in a skintight, low-cut dress. With her hand still in place, she rushed through the bathroom doors and missed the toilet by a long shot. Thankfully, she didn't get any chunks on her clothes.
A woman occupied the stall beside her, and when the woman exited the stall, Shania noticed she was holding a belly that had to be about seven or eight months with child.
“First trimester?” the pregnant woman asked.
Shania nodded her head before rinsing out her mouth.
“Is this your first?”
Again, Shania nodded and wiped her mouth with a paper towel. “If I have to deal with this for the whole nine months, you best believe that this'll be the last.”
The woman laughed. “It'll get better, I promise. The first trimester is the worst. After you get past the morning sickness, then you'll only have to worry about urinating every two to three seconds.” They shared a laugh. Then the woman tiptoed around her vomit and said, “I'll go talk to the ushers—see if they can find someone to clean this up.”
“Thank you so much,” Shania whispered.
After pulling herself together, she returned to her seat and popped a piece of gum in her mouth before turning to face her husband. With his eyes, he asked her if she was all right. She nodded, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
Pastor Ray stood in front of the sanctuary dressed in his long robe, and he greeted the people. He then said a touching prayer before talking about the cycle of life. Shania could hear sniffles all around her.
After saying some wonderful words about Mother Washington's character, Pastor Ray introduced a soloist who sang “Amazing Grace.” Shania felt herself getting choked up. That song always moved her emotionally. It was the same song that they had played at her parents' funeral, during the final viewing of the bodies.
An usher standing in the aisle handed her a couple of tissues, and she dabbed her face and eyes. At the end of the song, the pastor commented about the lovely selection and called on Greg to say the eulogy.
Greg adjusted his dark tie. He didn't exude nervousness, but Shania sensed it, anyway. Even still she felt confident in his abilities. He always did an excellent job whenever he spoke on youth Sundays, so she knew he'd do an excellent job now.
Over the past three days, he had worked hard on the short biography, and Shania had no doubt in her mind that his diligence would pay off and make Mother Washington proud. She gave him a reassuring smile.
Greg took his position behind the podium and spoke into the microphone. “Mother Washington was one of a kind. From the first day that she started coming to this church, she called me son, and had been calling me that ever since. And when she wasn't calling me son, she was the only one other than my mama who called me by my full name.” He chuckled, and the congregation laughed with him. He then talked about when and where Mother Washington was born, where she was raised, her nursing career, her community service, and various parts of her life—up until her last days.
“On the days when it gets difficult to accept her absence in your life . . .” Greg said and stopped a minute to gather his composure. He blinked rapidly, then looked out at the congregation, and his chin quivered. “Remember this. Mother Washington told me that she was ready to go home. God didn't take her. She left. Willingly. Furthermore, she told me on repeated occasions that there was no need for me to worry about her, because she was in good hands, and it was well with her soul.”
Applause followed him to his seat, and an usher stuffed a handful of tissues in his hand as he stepped from the pulpit.
Shania thought he did a great job, in spite of the fact that his voice cracked, and there were times when she wasn't sure if he'd be able to finish. Regardless, his cheeks remained dry, though Shania didn't think that they would.
Greg folded his notes and placed them back in his jacket pocket, then joined Shania on the pew. She gently squeezed his hand and glanced at him, as if to say, “Good job.” Grinning back at her, he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand.
BOOK: When the Fairytale Ends
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