Unbeweaveable (27 page)

 

For three days after death

hair and fingernails continue to grow,

but phone calls taper off.

—Johnny Carson

Mountain of Machines

Why are hospitals so cold?
It's freezing in here. I haven't been in to see Gloria yet. The doctors are saying she had a stroke. Paul is in there right now, Misty, too. They're only letting two people in at a time. They had to wear face masks, something about germs. I was in too much shock to pay much attention.

But I did see Paul holding Mama's hand in the waiting room. I'm sure this is what every child hopes for, that their parents will get back together. But I never knew I even had that chance, what with my mother being a liar and all.

Please, God, don't let Gloria die. I just met her; it seems so unfair that she die without me really knowing her. I'm tired of not knowing people, especially my family. I'm tired of secrets. I'm tired of hating my mother. I'm just plain old tired.

I stopped writing when I saw Paul and Misty come back in the waiting room. I didn't have time to grab my journal, so I wrote on a scrap of paper Renee found in her purse.

We all stood.

“How is she?” Beverly asked, going up to Paul and grabbing his hand. There it was again. I threw a look at Renee. Her eyebrow was quirked up, but she said nothing.
So I wasn't the only one who knew…

“She's still unconscious—”

“It's bad,” Misty said, looking down. “The doctors say that her brain lost a lot of oxygen—”

“Will she be okay?” I asked.

Paul looked at me. “We don't know, baby girl. We hope so.”

Beverly kept rubbing his hand.

“I know this is a sad moment and everything, but Mama, what's going on?” Renee asked.

As if finally realizing she was holding Paul's hand, she dropped it. “What do you mean?”

“You know what she means,” I said.

“Did I miss something here?” Misty said. “I mean, besides the fact that Grandma had a stroke?”

No one spoke.

“Daddy? What's going on?”

Paul looked at her. “Nothing, baby. Weren't you supposed to call your husband?”

Misty looked at her watch. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. He needs to pick up T-Bone—” She walked away, punching numbers into her cell phone.

“Look, baby girl,” Paul said, facing me. “Your mother and I need to do some talking.”

“I saw you two. Looked like you weren't doing much talking.”

“What were they doing?” Renee asked.

“Kissing. Like a couple of teenagers.”

“Mama?”

Beverly's cheeks flushed. “I'm sorry. I know my behavior was inappropriate.” She looked at Paul. “But Paul and I have a lot of sorting out to do—”

“Do you know how hard this stuff is to hear, Mama? All this time I thought you were in love with my father—”

“I did love Anthony. Don't do that, Renee.”

“Do what? I called you down here to support Mariah, but you're down here making everything worse. You're complicating things—”

“Thing have
been
complicated, Renee.” She shook her head. “But you're right. I shouldn't have come.” She started to walk off, but Paul caught her hand.

“Stop running away. I need you here, especially now. Stay.” He held her gaze for the longest time, and I saw something in Mama's eyes shift. She nodded.

“Can I go see Gloria now?” I asked.

Paul nodded.

I looked at Renee. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course.”

We followed the directions the nurse gave us and entered the room where Gloria lay unconscious. She was surrounded by a mountain of machines, and her dark skin was ashy and grey.

“Oh, Gloria,” I said, covering my mouth with my hand. The only comfort I had in looking at her was seeing that pink sponge roller still in her hair.

“Renee…”

“I know,” she said, standing next to me.

Our hands found each other and she squeezed my hand just as tight as I squeezed hers.

Sunny Skies

Paul and Mama sat with Gloria during her final hours. She died Sunday morning. Paul asked if I wanted to go in and say my goodbyes, but I couldn't do it. Gloria was gone and I couldn't go in and say goodbye to her cold body.

Cold. That was the last word that I would use to describe Gloria. She was so warm and funny. I can't believe it's been a week already. The house is quiet; even with all the people mulling around, it's quiet in here.

I keep looking at the stove, waiting to see if Gloria will come out her bedroom and start frying something. It seems I'm not the only one who thinks about her cooking, Paul instructed that no one touch her stove. Like she would ever know if someone touched anything.

Seems unfair how sunny the sky was today when Gloria went into the ground. Where was the rain, the clouds, the thunderstorms and lightning? Who got buried with the sun shining as bright as it did today? But then again, besides Renee's husband, how many funerals had I gone to?

How do you end up loving somebody so much that you just met? My heart ached for her, and I know she had more wisdom to share with me. But now? No more. I had so much to learn and now she was gone.

And now I have to deal with my parents. (I can't believe I'm writing that, it still feels too surreal to write. Parents? Wow.) They can't keep their hands off each other, always reaching out for each other like no one notices. I notice. It bothered Renee, I could tell, yet she kept her mouth shut. Me? Not so much.

What would Gloria say about it? She didn't like Mama, yet she still made her feel welcome. Would she have hated the two of them back together?

I heard footsteps approach and I closed my journal.

I knew it was her before I even turned to look at her.

“Want some company?”

I shrugged.

She sat down next to me on the porch steps. She fingered the cast on her arm.

“I can't believe she's gone,” Beverly said.

“I know.”

“She was such a big part of Paul's life. He's devastated.”

“He'll be okay, won't he?”

Beverly nodded. “He's strong. He'll survive.”

“What about you?”

“I'll be fine.”

“No, I mean—” I blew out a breath. “I mean what about you…and my father. What's going on with you two?”

“I know it bothers you—”

“Bothers isn't quite the right word.”

“I know you don't like it. But we want to try again. Give it a real go this time. We never gave ourselves a real chance before.”

I nodded. “I'm happy for you.”

“You are? You seemed upset all week—”

I held my hand up. “I know. But really, I'm glad. Everyone around me has grown up, making real adult decisions. Life's too short to be upset with you. Gloria would want me to be happy for you, too, and move on.”

She smiled. “I think she would have been happy for us. I'm glad you are too. I've made a real mess of things. I look at my life and I have so many regrets, too many. I can't take back what I did to you. You reminded me of everything I lost, and I guess I blamed you for it. I didn't want to take responsibility for the fact that I was to blame for losing the one man I've ever loved. I didn't mean to make you feel so bad about yourself…”

She started crying and I resisted the urge to reach out and touch her. She wiped her eyes and continued, “Thanks for being the bigger woman. You turned out so much better than me—”

“I'm not better than you.”

She shook her head. “You are. You came down here with so much courage and, and—”

“Hope,” I said. “I never imagined that my father would be so loving. But he is. I can see why you loved him.” I sighed. “Love him, I mean.”

“Thank you for forgiving me.” She held up her hand. “I think I've truly paid for my mistakes in blood.”

“It was an accident!”

She hugged me. “I know, baby, I know.”

* * *

“Well, that's it. You girls are all packed up.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Who's driving?” Paul asked.

“I'm driving the first leg,” Renee said.

“Come here, baby girl.” Paul gave me a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Call me as soon as you get back?”

“I promise.”

“And I'm coming to see you in a couple of weeks, okay? Just need to get some stuff settled first.”

I saw Beverly come out of the house and stand next to Paul. I stepped from him.

“Where are your bags?” I asked.

She looked at Paul and reached for his hand. “I'm staying.” Paul looked down at her with so much love, I had to look away.

“Mama, are you serious?” Renee asked.

Beverly nodded.

Renee walked over and hugged Beverly. She said something in Beverly's ear and then walked back to the car.

I walked to Beverly and hugged her. When the urge to cry came, I let it come and didn't fight it. All my fighting was over.

“Be happy,” I whispered into her hair.

“I plan to.”

“Goodbye.
Mama
.”

About the Author

Katrina Spencer
is the author of
Six O'clock
and lives in Texas with her husband and daughter. She readily admits that if she were trapped on a desert island, the three things she couldn't live without are her family, her Bible, and her hair weave. Learn more about her at katrinaspencer.com and stop by her blog, Curl Up and Write, where she dishes about writing, hair and more.