Coveted (14 page)

I am at the house in my mama’s room trying to go through her things. I have finally gotten up the nerve to rummage through the trunk that she was so adamant I go through to discover information about my father. I never knew that my Mama had so many photos. For the life of me, I cannot recall her being into taking pictures that much. Going through them, I come across one where she must have been in her late teens. She is sitting at a bar with a very handsome Black man. I bring the photo up to my face for a closer look, and my hand begins to shake. I almost drop the photo. I turn the photo over, and sure enough, it read
Blanca and Kenneth, Happy 18th to me
, in my mama’s handwriting. I turn the photo back over to the front and study the guy in the shot. I have seen this man before. He was at the funeral. I am in shock. I cannot believe that I was in the same room as my father and did not even know that we had been breathing the same air.

The funeral was a rather small one, as my Mama only went to work, and would come straight home to provide for me. As her condition worsened, she never really went out at all. I knew all of her co-workers and friends, so of course I was curious when a man I never saw before came to the wake to view the body. He then silently took a seat in the back. I had noticed him, but had not really put much thought into it. After all, it was my mama’s funeral and they might as well have buried the other side of my heart.

It is amazing to see what my father looked like all those years ago. Even though the photograph is, 25-years-old, he pretty much looks the same, except for a few extra pounds and gray hair. I begin to pick apart his features; it is almost creepy how much I look like him. I may be bi-racial, but I say I have more Black in me than Puerto Rican. My hair is a wild array of crinkly curls. It is just all over the place. My mama’s hair was silky and bone straight. She never quite knew what to do with my hair so she just sort of let it be. My nose is a little wider than hers. I have slanted eyes, as she did, but they are a light brown, whereas hers were a very dark brown. Honestly, I did not get too much from my mama. As I previously stated, I look so much like the stranger in the photo, that it is scary. I continue to look at the photograph and curiosity gets the best of me. I wonder what my father would say if he got a chance to meet me after all these years. Would he accept me, or would he reject me as if he and my mother never were? Would I mess up his life? It would be nice to have a sibling. I always wanted an older sister, and according to my mama, he had a daughter. I wonder what she would think of me. Would she embrace me or turn me away? Would she think that I had come to mess up her family?

I just do not know what to do. Part of me wants to go there and demand they get to know me and love me and realize that we had all been cheated out of getting to know one another. Another part of me doesn’t want to make the attempt for fear of rejection. I am so confused. I look at the photo one last time, put it back into the trunk, and look to see if I can find any other pictures of my mama and Kenneth. She was such a pretty girl, I wonder why she kept all of her photos locked up and hidden like this.

There were only two photos I saw relevant to the time frame I was seeking, One where she was obviously pregnant with me, but she looked so sad and forlorn, as if she were wishing that she was in a far away place. In the other photo, she was holding me at the hospital, and she had the same dejected look on her face as in the other one. Life, knowing that she had to raise me alone, must have been hard for her to swallow. She looked so lost. I put that picture back and continued to dig deeper. At the bottom of the box, there are a couple pieces of crumpled paper that immediately piqued my interest. I grab them and leave everything else in the box. As I unfold the papers slowly, I begin to get an uneasy feeling that my life may be changed by whatever is written on them. I look down and begin to read:

January 10, 1984

Kenneth,

How do I even begin? I am all out of sorts lately. I did not mean what I said earlier about the baby. I never miscarried. I just didn’t want you to have to suffer, and ruin your life because you had a little too much fun with an overzealous teenage girl once upon a time. Somehow, in this equation, it does not seem fair to me. I am the one that is left with the burden of a baby to raise by myself. My parents have disowned me. I have nothing. There are days that I regret meeting you and getting pregnant. I resent this baby inside of me so much. This baby has taken away my youth and my life, and replaced it with what? An uncertain future? A child that will never have the chance to know its father? I don’t even know the first thing about raising a baby. What if I screw this kid up? I do not know what I am doing. I wish that I could talk to you but I realize my place. You used me and while I know I may have been a willing participant, I did not expect things to turn out this way. I do not know what I expected. I just know that this was not it. I no longer want the baby. What was I thinking? I cannot do this…I cannot.

The one you screwed over,

Blanca

Wow, my Mama didn’t even want me. I felt the tears pressing against my lids. I continue on to the next piece of paper.

April 28, 1984

Kenneth,

You have no idea what you are missing. I had a beautiful baby girl. She is gorgeous. I named her Emeri Kendall. I could not name her Kenneth, so Kendall was the best I could do. This way she has a small piece of you attached to her. I cannot explain it, but I love her so much already and she has barely even opened her eyes twice. To think I did not want her. How could I have been so selfish? No matter what, I promise I will find a way to take care of her. She looks just like you too. Not too much of me in her. Ten fingers and ten toes…she’s a miracle and you know what the good part is, she’s all mine and no one will ever be able to take her away from me. Not ever. I am going to love her for now and always.

Thank you so much for my precious gift,

Blanca

A teardrop escapes from my eye and travels down the worn paper. I miss my mama so much. It is astonishing how close I feel to her through her written letters. There is a time lapse between the next letter and the one that I had just read. Mama must have been too busy concerned with me to write.

September 16, 1989

Kenneth,

You cannot imagine the worry that Emeri just put me through. They had to rush her to the hospital from kindergarten today. My baby fell off the monkey bars and landed square on her face. She scraped all the skin off her cheek and chin. When I went to the hospital, her face was wrapped in bandages. She looked like a little mummy. I felt so bad when she saw me and tried to smile. It was so heart wrenching. Oh my baby!

Worried,

Blanca

August 15, 1998

Kenneth,

Emeri is starting high school! Where has the time gone? I cannot believe how grown up she is now. I wish that you could see her. She is absolutely beautiful. I swear every time I look at her, I see you. She is so calm. Her temperament comes from you because I know I used to be hell on Earth. I have been thinking that maybe you should meet her. I think she would love to meet you. She might hate me for what I have done to her life, but it seems like such an injustice to you not to see how wonderful she is.

Confused,

Blanca

June 1, 2002

Kenneth,

I did it! Emeri is graduating high school in four days. I managed to raise her, and I must say, I did a pretty good job. My baby is graduating at the top of her class. She is the valedictorian. How exciting is that? I got her through high school without going through a pregnancy or being addicted to drugs or boys. God could not have blessed me with a better child. How did I ever get so lucky? Meeting you is the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you for adding her to my life.

Extremely Proud,

Blanca

I picked up the last letter, which was in an addressed envelope.

February 14, 2008

Kenneth,

I am dying. Can you believe that? Breast cancer is killing me. My body cannot fight it any longer. I’ve been thinking long and hard. Actually, for the last couple of years, I have been going back and forth about this. I really want you to meet our daughter. I believe that she will bring a joy to your life that you have never known before. I know that my time here is short and I want her to have family somewhere. Please find it in your heart to except her, despite the situation. I know I was wrong to keep her from you, but blame me for that. Do not blame Emeri. I know that you have a good heart Kenneth, which is one of the reasons that I fell so hard for you. I never loved anyone after you. You were the only one. I loved you the best way I knew how, through Emeri. Forgive me.

Love,

Blanca

My hand was shaking by the time I finished reading the last letter. I cannot believe that my mother still loved my father after all these years. That kind of love was almost unheard of. I look down at all of the papers spread out around me and contemplate what to do. I feel so unsure of myself. Ever since my mama broke the news to me of my father not knowing about me, and then seeing him at the funeral, made me want to seek him out and get the opportunity to know him. I would love to see what kind of person my sister is, and to find out if we resembled each other in looks, or have any of the same personality traits. I look on the outside of the envelope again and study the address. Maybe I will pay my father a visit….

…
I never realized how pretty Maryland can be. I am used to the streets of New York City, with all of the hustle and bustle going on. Here, it is so pure and the air seems so fresh. There are rolling green hills everywhere. I think I’m in love with the area already. The trip down was uneventful. I just hopped in my car and decided to go for it before I lost my nerve. Now that I am nearing my destination, I am beginning to feel a little apprehensive. What would Kenneth think when he laid eyes on me? What will his wife think of his obvious infidelity with a young Puerto Rican girl from New York all those years ago? My nerves are starting to get the best of me; maybe this was not such a good idea.

Naima 14

“
Camille, can you come into my office please?” I say into the intercom.

Another day almost complete at the office, and I am as unfocused as you can get. I have been trying to piece together the details of Damir’s birthday extravaganza for the meeting that we are having tomorrow. I was trying my best to put something really intricate and exciting together for him, so he would know just how well the company could throw a party for him, but my thoughts keep drifting to how wonderful he is.

“
Yes, Ms. Vaughn?” I turn to look at Camille as she interrupts my thoughts.

“
Camille can you tell me the status of Mr. Collins party? I am going through his paperwork and cannot seem to fabricate two thoughts into my head.”

“
Well,” she starts slowly. “No one has really been working on his party. You are the sole consultant, so we were just waiting for you to give us the word go.”

The headache that I just got rid of came back at full force with her comment. I slowly nod my head and then slice my eyes at her.

“
Do you mean to tell me that not one vendor has been called, and nothing has been planned since the first day that he walked into this office?” I put down the paperwork I was reviewing and gave her my undivided attention. “Please explain to me how I am supposed to give him a run down by tomorrow when we have nothing accomplished?”

“
I don’t have an answer, Ms. Vaughn.”

“Camille, you have been working here long enough to know the drill. Once you have received his completed questionnaire you are supposed to get things in motion.” I continue to look at her as she cocks her head to the side and shift her weight to the other foot. “Never mind about all that,” I say to her, “Can you please start calling caterers and other vendors who can help us bring the seventies theme together? Thanks.” Without waiting for her reply, I turn back to my computer, dismissing her. Good help sure is hard to find.

I rub my temple; my headache is building momentum. I jump as my private line begins to ring. Picking up the receiver slowly as I feel the pain in my temple increase, I am really not in the mood to talk to anyone.

“
Hello?”

“
Naima please don’t hang up, please listen to what I have to say, please.” I hear a familiar voice pleading with me on the other end and groan inwardly. Lord knows I do not need this right now.

“
Haven, what do you want? I have nothing to discuss with you.”

“
I just want to explain to you what happened. I want us to be friends again.”