Aftermath (19 page)

“I know I already said it, but I want you to know how sorry I am for the way I was … I realize how bad it was growing up with me as your father.”

Toya nodded. It had been terrible.

“I don't know if this means anything to you, but I'm real proud of you. I remember when you were in high school and all the boys were checking you out.” Nate smiled, as if at some long-ago memory. “I used to tell you that all they wanted from you was sex, and I probably went about it all wrong.” He shook his head. “But my intentions were good. I didn't want you being just another dumb broad out there in them streets, giving it up so easy when you're worth more than that. I didn't want you to end up with a whole bunch of kids by some no-good nigga, or sitting around waiting for a welfare check. So I said some mean things and from time to time I may have even embarrassed you.” Nate saw her eyes water a little. “But I just wanted you to be better than all them other girls out there; wanted you to be smarter, stronger than them.” He looked at his daughter and smiled. “And you are.”

The waiter brought their food and Nate watched as Toya discreetly dabbed at her eyes with her napkin before spreading it across her lap. She wasn't sure why she was crying. A combination of emotions were barraging her—anger, frustration, and surprisingly, sadness. When the waiter was gone, Toya dug in to her salad while Nate sliced his T-bone steak and watched her.

“Look at you,” he said, smiling proudly. “You got your own real estate business, that big ol' brownstone in Brooklyn. You got a beautiful car parked outside, diamonds on your fingers … you seem like you're doing all right.”

Toya nodded. She had done well for herself, and she knew it. “Thanks,” she managed.

Nate chewed on his steak. “I can't help noticing that you're single. No kids. What's up with that?” Nate asked. He wondered if he was to blame for that. He had instilled so much toughness in Toya that he hoped he hadn't poisoned her mind about love in general. His warnings about men and their ulterior motives may have caused her to run from love and from commitment.

Toya frowned. She didn't really appreciate him questioning her. After all, what gave him the right? But she found herself answering him anyway. “Ain't nothing up with that. I don't want any kids. Don't want to disappoint them.” She shoved a forkful of salad in her mouth and watched her father chew on what she'd just said.

Nate didn't miss her barb. He nodded. “I bet you'd be a great mother, and a great wife, too.”

Toya rolled her eyes. She didn't want to talk about this, not here and definitely not now.

“What ever happened to that guy you married?” he asked.

Toya nearly spit her Pellegrino all over the table. Nate noticed her reaction and knew that he'd hit a nerve.

“I mean I know he got sent to—”

“I don't want to talk about him,” she said flatly. “Move on.”

He nodded. “Okay, then.” He took a sip of his drink. “Just tell me how you managed to land on your feet after all of that.”

Toya glared at her father across the table and bit her lip. She wanted to say that she had survived it all on her own, with no assistance from the bitch nigga that sat across from her now. But she didn't say that. Instead, she looked away, took a deep breath and met her father's gaze again. “I just did. I'm a tough bitch.”

Nate smiled, slowly nodded his head. “Yes, Latoya. Yes, you are.”

She went back to her salad and Nate watched her, still smiling, before he resumed his meal, as well. After eating in silence for a while, Toya looked at her father questioningly.

“So what do you want from me?”

Nate seemed caught off guard. He stopped mid-chew and looked at his daughter.

“What do you mean?”

“You swoop back into my life after all these years, say all the things you needed to get off your chest and … now what?” Toya asked, gesturing with her fork. “What is it that you want from me now? A bone marrow transplant? Some money? What?”

Nate wiped his mouth with his napkin, set it on the table and sat back in his seat. He looked at Toya and shook his head. “I don't want none of that. All I want from you—from your brothers and your mother, too—is your forgiveness.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “If you can find it in your heart to forgive me for all the shit I did—all the things I know you saw growing up—I could die a happy man.” He shrugged then, looked down at his hands. “Maybe you feel like I deserve to die as miserable as I made y'all all those years,” he said. “And I can't blame you if you feel like that.”

Toya felt hot tears flood her eyes and she looked away, but not before a couple rolled down her cheek. Nate noticed and leaned forward and wiped her eyes, relieved that she didn't recoil. At that moment, some icy part of Toya's cold heart melted. She looked at her father and the hate that had been so evident in her eyes had gone away. Now, as he looked at Toya, Nate saw her for who she once was—a little girl longing for her father's strong hand to wipe away her tears. He smiled at her, hoping that it wasn't too late after all.

Something about seeing her father smiling at her made Toya's insides churn. Instantly, she tensed up and the serene expression on her face morphed into a grimace as she recoiled. He didn't deserve to smile, didn't deserve even a shred of happiness after the years of hurt he'd caused her. She pulled away and sat as far back in her seat as possible. Nate's hand still hung in the air where it had graced her cheek only moments ago, and he felt spurned. His smile faded as he suspected that his glimpse of Toya's soft side had been short-lived.

“You shouldn't die a happy man,” she said coldly. “What happiness have you brought to my life? Huh? Did you ever wipe my tears when I was a little girl falling off my bike? Or were you too fuckin' drunk and high to notice? Did you ever tell me that you were proud of me when I was growing up and I needed to hear that shit? Did you ever do anything to build me up? Or were you so busy beating me down that you didn't have time?”

Several patrons were staring at them, whispering among themselves, and Nate was embarrassed. Still, he kept his cool knowing that everything Toya said was right.

She wasn't done yet. “You know what?” she asked rhetorically. “You might be right. You might be the reason I'm so tough. Shit, I've been fighting you since I was about twelve years old so I should be tough. Defending myself when your drunken, abusive ass would come home starting shit. You can take credit for that. But take credit for the rest of the shit, too. You're the reason your youngest son went to jail. You're the reason the other three can't get through one day without a fuckin' drink. It's your fault that we lost the house we grew up in. And you're the only one to blame for the fact that you're dying alone and miserable.”

“Is everything all right?” the waiter asked. Neither Toya nor her father had noticed him approaching the table during her tirade.

“Everything is fine,” Nate fibbed, forcing a smile at the young man. Satisfied that the yelling was over, the waiter retreated.

“Latoya,” Nate said, his tone low and steady. “You're right about everything you said. I can't argue with the truth.”

Toya sucked her teeth. In her opinion, this new improved Nathaniel Blake was a phony. This was all part of some new con that he had cooked up to get sympathy from his family, she thought. She snatched her napkin off her lap and tossed it on the tabletop. She had lost her appetite.

“I have a meeting to get to,” she lied. “Are you done?”

Nate leaned toward her anxiously. He didn't want this to be the last conversation he would have with her. “Latoya, I love you,” he said.

Her jaw clenched involuntarily. “Is that it?”

“I would like it if you would keep in touch with me. I don't expect things to be perfect overnight. But you can call me from time to time. Maybe we can try to fix our relationship. Start over.”

Toya reached for her purse and cursed herself for feeling a twinge of sympathy. “Good luck finding a donor,” she said halfheartedly. She stood up and walked out, leaving Nate staring after her.

As she climbed into her car and drove back home, she knew that even if she never saw her father again, she had gotten closure. She felt relieved and perhaps a little drained as she pulled up in front of her brownstone.

As soon as her heels hit the pavement, she saw Russell coming across the street in her direction and sighed. This ogre sure didn't let up.

He strolled up to her with that same hideous smile on his face and said, “Hey, I'm sure you're gonna say no, but I wanted to come and ask you to come out and have a drink with me tonight. Nothing serious, no strings attached, just—”

“Fine!” she interrupted him, too broken down after the emotionally draining day she'd had to put up a fight. “Let's go.”

Russell was clearly caught off guard, but recovered quickly as he happily led Toya off toward his car. The smile on his face spread wider and he silently thanked the Lord that this was clearly his lucky day.

*   *   *

In a restaurant
across town, Dominique sat with Octavia and waited as the waitress refilled their water glasses. She'd taken a leave of absence from her job in order to tend to Octavia's situation and had signed Octavia out of school, having her assignments forwarded each day from her teachers. Everyone was relieved that Octavia had come home and in the three days since then, a lot had changed. Dominique had taken Octavia to a gynecologist, who confirmed their worst fears—Octavia was six weeks pregnant. Once they knew for sure, Dominique had contacted Dashawn's mother, Dee Dee. Almost as soon as the conversation between the two women began, Dominique could tell what kind of person Dee Dee was. Her voice, her ebonics-laden language, and her incessant gum chewing all screamed HOOD RAT! It had come as no surprise when Dee Dee reiterated her assertion that the best thing Octavia could do was to “get rid of it.”

Since then, Dominique had been spending all her time talking to her daughter about the situation at hand. Today was no different.

The waitress walked away and Octavia looked at her mother. “I think I've made up my mind,” she said.

Dominique stirred some sugar into her coffee and met her daughter's gaze. “About the baby?” she asked, realizing immediately that it was a stupid question. Of course it was about the baby. Everything was about the baby at this point.

Octavia nodded. She toyed with the salt shaker absentmindedly. “I'm going to have an abortion.”

Dominique took a deep breath, blew it out, and looked at her child. “What made you come to that decision?”

Octavia shrugged, stared at the table. “For one thing, I'm mad young.”

Dominique smiled slightly at her daughter's use of slang. That sentence alone illustrated Octavia's point exactly. She nodded and Octavia continued.

“I'm only in the ninth grade and I have my whole life ahead of me. Plus Dashawn doesn't want a kid right now.” Dominique noticed the dejected expression on Octavia's face as she said that. “This is just not the right time to bring a kid into the world.”

Dominique was relieved. After the pregnancy was confirmed, she had said all the things to Octavia that she knew she needed to say. She had told her daughter that she loved her, that she would stand by her side no matter what decision she made. She told Octavia that if she kept the baby, they would make it work, that life wasn't over just because she'd made a mistake. And she'd also told her that if she chose to have an abortion or to put the child up for adoption, she would stand right by her side from start to finish. But the truth was, Dominique was not ready to be a grandmother. And although she had been a teen parent herself, she did not want the same for her daughter. She let out a silent sigh and squeezed Octavia's hand across the table.

“I think you're making the right decision,” she said honestly. “But I want you to be sure. Once you do it, there's no turning back and I don't want you having any regrets when everything is said and done.”

Octavia nodded. “I'm sure about this,” she said. “It's all I've been thinking about.” She looked at Dominique. “Ma, I want to tell you that I'm sorry about everything.”

Dominique waved her hand as if to dismiss her apology, but Octavia kept going.

“I knew better than to sneak around behind your back … I was just in such a rush to be grown. I wanted to be able to go on dates and to have a boyfriend and I just wouldn't take no for an answer. I always thought that I would come and talk to you before I started having sex, but for some reason … I just couldn't. I didn't think I would get pregnant and I was dumb enough to believe Dashawn when he said that he would take care of me.” A tear fell from Octavia's eye but she quickly wiped it away and kept talking. “I was dumb. And I got myself into all this trouble, had you worried about me for so many days. I'm sorry, Ma. From now on, I swear I'll talk to you about everything.” Octavia felt like an idiot. She was ashamed of herself and embarrassed that the boy she'd given her heart to had played her. It was over between her and Dashawn. He didn't want her, didn't want their baby. Octavia just wanted the whole nightmare to be over.

Dominique smiled, patted her daughter's hand, and felt her heart fill with pride. True, her daughter had made a huge mistake. But she had learned from it and Dominique believed that this would be the start of a new beginning for them.

“Well,” she said. “I think I owe you an apology, too.”

Octavia frowned slightly.

“I've been so preoccupied with work, with Jamel, and with mourning Daddy's loss that I've neglected you. I'm hardly ever at home. And even when I am, there's always a letter to write to Jamel, a phone call to accept, or a visit to go on.” Dominique shook her head, ashamed of herself. She was relieved that Jamel was coming home in a matter of days and prayed that his return to civilization would mean a return to some normalcy in her life for once. “Def Jam is working me harder than ever and I've been so busy with all of those things, that you've been practically raising yourself. So, I'm sorry, too.”