Disappearing Acts (49 page)

I wonder would it matter to her if she knew I finally got my divorce? It’s probably too late now. And lately I been wondering if she coulda met somebody else, and if so, does my son call him Daddy? I was torturing myself with this question, really, and figured there was only one way to find out.

*   *   *

I stood outside on the steps for the longest time before ringing the buzzer. I didn’t know what I was gon’ say to her, really. I laid on the buzzer and waited.

She looked even better than she did last time. And my son—what a good-lookin’ kid.

“How you doing?” I asked her, after I sat down.

“Just fine. And you?”

“I’m all right. You looking good,” I said. I hope this didn’t mean she was fucking somebody else and enjoying it.

“So do you, Franklin.”

Damn, something sure smelled good. Something told me not to come over here around dinnertime all
hungry and shit. I been living offa sardines and crackers. “So is everything going all right?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“How’s the singing going?”

“I’m doing more writing than singing these days.”

“No shit. Anything good happening?”

“I sold one,” she said, so low I couldn’t hardly hear her.

“Speak up, baby. Did you just mumble that you sold one?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit. Well, congratulations! You don’t sound too thrilled about it.”

“I am, really.”

“I always knew you’d make it, baby. But how come you ain’t singing?”

“You want the truth?”

“I always have.”

“Because I really couldn’t stand the idea of being on the road and leaving Jeremiah all the time. Plus I realized that I don’t have to be on a stage to make my music come alive.”

“You feel good about this, then?”

“I do.”

“I miss your singing, Zora.” I couldn’t believe I just said that, but fuck it, I want her to know. “And I miss you.” I figured wasn’t no sense in lying. Jeremiah was climbing on my shoulders and I was digging every minute of it. But I didn’t come over here to cop no plea. I didn’t come over here to beg her to take me back either. I just wanted her to know how I still felt.

“I miss you too, Franklin.”

That was music to my ears. “So I see you feeding my son. Look at these little ham-hock thighs and the hands on this kid. Baseball mitts, right?”

“His doctor said he’s in the ninetieth percentile for his age group. So. How’ve you been doing, for real?”

“I’m in school.”

“What kind of school?”

“College.”

“Are you serious, Franklin? That’s wonderful!”

“I’m back doing construction too. Probably will be till I get my degree.”

“I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear this. I’ve known all along that you had it in you.”

I could tell she was being sincere, and I knew that deep down she was probably thinking, What took you so long, motherfucker? But Zora knows what and when to say shit, and I appreciated it. Neither one of us said anything for what seemed like hours. We just kinda looked at each other like fools.

“What you thinking about?” I asked.

“You really want to know?”

“Yeah.”

“What made you come over here today?”

“Because I couldn’t come until I knew I wasn’t mad no more. And I couldn’t come until I could hold my head up like a man and not be embarrassed about what I was or what I wasn’t. I couldn’t come back and face you like this until I felt good about being Franklin again. And I couldn’t come back here until I could tell you I’m sorry.”

She looked up at me, and I saw how glassy her eyes was—I mean were. School is helping me correct this kinda shit. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“And I’m sorry too,” she said.

“You know, I took a lotta things for granted, and since I been by myself, all I’ve had time to do is think. Put some things in perspective. And you wanna know what conclusions I came to?”

She nodded.

“That you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and if I fucked up and lost you, then it’s my own damn fault.”

“You haven’t lost me, Franklin.”

“You ain’t met nobody else?”

“No. What about you?”

“Naw. I been too busy anyway.”

“You don’t know how many nights I’ve prayed for this—that you’d come back to us.”

“I ain’t back, baby.”

“You’re not?”

“I need more time. I still got quite a few bricks to lay in order to make sure my foundation is solid. I’m sick of doing things half-ass. This time I wanna do it right. But are you telling me that you would want me to come back?”

“My heart does, but a lot has happened since
I
saw
you
too.”

“Like what?”

“Like we’re moving.”

“Moving where?”

“Back to Toledo.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to live in New York anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m tired, Franklin, and I want to slow down.”

“When you doing all this moving?”

“In August.”

“And you was just gon’ take my son and leave without telling me?”

“I didn’t know where to find you. I thought you’d forgotten about us. You never come by, and I—”

“What if I asked you not to leave?” Go ahead and tell me your mind is already made up. Go ahead, make me beg.

“I have to go.”

“You don’t have to do nothing but die.”

“I quit my job already, Franklin.”

“So you can get another one.”

“It’s more to it than that. I want to raise our son so he’ll know what it’s like to play in the grass and roll in the dirt without me having to take him to a damn park to do it. I want him to grow up where he can be a child.”

“You can do that in Queens,” I said.

She just looked at me like I was crazy.

“And I’m going back to church and sing where it’s always made me feel the best. And I’ll write music. Besides, I got another teaching job.”

“I thought you was tired of teaching.”

“Like you said, you get to learn a lot of things when you’re by yourself.”

Was this room spinning, or was it just me? Was I about to lose Zora and my son forever? I felt helpless, like nothing I said was gon’ get her to understand that I still wanted her, but I also wanted her to do whatever she thought was gon’ be best for her and our son. You can’t ask a woman to put her love on hold, though, can you? You can’t ask her to wait until you finish growing up.

“Franklin?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re not leaving
you
; we’re just relocating. You’ve already been gone long enough for me to have a change of heart, but understand this: I love you just as much now as I did three years ago. We’ve had some rough times, and maybe time might help us both; I don’t know. But you see that little boy over there? He’s ours. We made him. And if you ever get your divorce and you feel like you’re ready, come get us.”

I was just about to tell her about my divorce, but something told me not to. Not yet. “You can’t promise me you gon’ be sitting around waiting for me, baby.”

“I didn’t say we were going to be waiting. Our lives need to keep going, Franklin. That’s been a big part of our problem. I think we both kind of disappeared
somewhere along the way and just stopped moving altogether.”

“You always was big on taking risks. You let that boy play in the toilet like that?” Before she could answer, I got up and lifted Jeremiah up in the air. “Do I smell something burning?”

She sniffed the air. “Nope.” Then she started grinning. “Would you like to have dinner with us?”

“What you got?”

“Meat loaf, scalloped potatoes…”

“Yeah, since you insist. Is it ready?”

“Yes, it’s ready. Jeremiah’s already eaten, and I was just about to give him his bath when you got here.”

“You mind if I give it to him?” I asked.

She looked surprised. “Do you know how?”

I took Jeremiah’s clothes off, went upstairs, and put the boy in the bathtub. I rubbed him down with them baby bubbles, splashed water on him, dried his little ass off, wrapped a towel around him, went back downstairs, held him up in the air and said, “Where you want him?”

“In his crib,” she said, and took him back upstairs. I followed her and watched her put his pajamas on.

“Where’s his bottle?”

“I don’t give him one at night.”

“Well, won’t he start crying?”

“Nope.”

“No shit.” I bent down and kissed him, and that was that. When we got back downstairs, I knew which plate was mine, ’cause it was a pile of food on it.

“Franklin, did you ever talk to your father?”

“About what?”

“You never called him or anything?”

“No, why should I? I ain’t talked to nobody.” I knew this had something to do with my sister. “It’s Darlene, ain’t it? Go on, tell me.”

“First of all, she’s okay.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve talked to your father since he came over here to tell me what happened.”

“Which was what?”

“That she tried to shoot herself. But she’s okay now.”

“She did
what?
”

“Back in February. But we didn’t know how to find you, so your father left his number. He really wanted to see you, Franklin.”

“What you mean, he left his number?”

“He moved out.”

“Get the fuck outta here. You mean to tell me that
my
Pops, the chump, done left
my
Moms, the bitch?”

“Yes, he did.”

I felt myself smiling. So finally you decided to be a man, huh?

“Darlene’s living with him,” I said.

“No shit.”

“No shit.”

“You still got that number handy?”

“Of course I do.”

She opened a drawer and handed this piece of paper to me. I looked at it, then put it in my pocket. When we finished eating, we went back into the living room, and I sat down on the couch. Zora sat in a chair on the other side of the room.

“Why don’t you come sit next to me?” I asked.

“Because I’m afraid of what I might do.”

“Show me what you scared you might do,” I said. She pressed both hands on the arms of the chair, pushed herself up, and pranced over to me. Then she bent down and kissed me. I closed my eyes, and just when I was getting used to her lips again, she stopped. “Is that it?”

Zora was laughing.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, even though I was
laughing now too. She stood up, stepped back, and unzipped her blue jeans. Then she pulled her Saratoga T-shirt over her head and took off her bra. Goddamn. Part of my problem in life is that I want everything now, so I persuaded Tarzan to chill out for the time being and decided to stretch this night out. “Can I ask you a big favor, baby?”

“It depends,” she said.

“You feel like a quick game of Scrabble?”

She walked over and got the game, handed it to me, then looked me dead in the eyes. “Set ’em up,” she said.