Joy Comes in the Morning (15 page)

I tried not to look startled at Marisol's question even though she was staring at me. People all around us were eating and talking, minding their own business, yet I felt like all their eyes were on me, like I was center stage.I turned my back to her. “No, it's nothing. I'm just confused about what I want to do with my life, that's all.”

“Are you sure? We've been working together for a couple of years now, and I consider us as friends. You've been acting really strange lately, and I believe there is more you're not telling me.”

I took a bite of my burger and hoped that my full mouth would camouflage my expression. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Marisol looked sincere. “You've been very sad, and I think it's deeper than what you're saying.”

“Maybe you know me too well.” I turned around to face her. “Too bad I didn't have a friend like you when I was back in college.”

“Oh come on, I know you had to have friends back then.” Marisol dipped two of her fries in ketchup and stuck them in her mouth.

“No, I had acquaintances. I separated from my real friends after high school. Taylor was around though. She was my only real friend.”

“It happens. Good friends are hard to find.” Suddenly, I knew I was going to tell her what I had never told anyone. Except Taylor. No matter what damage to my reputation, I was going to share what had been eating me up inside for all these years.

“If I had you there with me ten years ago, I know I wouldn't have destroyed my life.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I've never told anyone this . . . except my sister. Promise me that you won't tell another living soul.”

“Yeah, yeah, I promise.” Marisol continued to steadily chew her food. “Geez. What's all this about, anyway?”

I checked my surroundings to make sure no one I knew was around, then I dropped my volume. “Ten years ago, in a lonely night in my dorm, I realized I was pregnant.”

“You were?”

“Shhh. Yes.” I didn't look into her eyes; instead, I stared at my hands. “I found out that I was pregnant by a man I thought I loved at the time, who didn't love me.”

“That's a shame, but that ain't no crime, chica.”

“I told him, and he panicked. He accused me of trying to trap him, trying to ruin his life. Then he told me he was transferring to another college to pursue his acting career.”

“You're kidding?”

“No, I'm not. He told me to have an abortion. In fact he gave me money.”

“What a piece of—”

“I took the money because I was stupid then. But I made him promise he'd meet me that day at least. So we could go through it together. And I thought . . . he'd change his mind. You know, happily ever after. Naïve, huh?” My face was still. “He disappeared the same day I went to the clinic.”

“Oh, no.” Marisol reached across the table and put her hand on mine. “I'm so sorry, chica.”

“I waited for him a long time. I told him to meet me there, that if he cared at all, he would meet me there and stop me before it was too late. Or that he'd at least come to support me.” Tears rolled down my face.

“But he didn't come?”

“No, he didn't. I never saw him again. Except in my dreams, that is. Sometimes he's in my dreams. I mean, nightmares.”

“Oh Alex, I'm so sorry.”

“No, it's okay.” I clasped my hands together in my lap. “There's more.”

“I'm sorry. Go on.”

The wounds were being unraveled. I began to shiver. “I . . . I killed them.”

“Them?”

“Yes, I killed two babies. Two.” I fought to hold back the tears. “They found out that it was not just one, but two, and I didn't even know until it was too late.”

“Twins?”

“Yes, twins. I would've had twins like my sister and I.”

“Wow. That must've been way hard.”

 

“It was. And then to make things worse, I nearly bled to death a few days later.”

“Oh my goodness.”

“My sister found me losing consciousness one day, and luckily, my parents were out of town so—”

“So?”

“It was a really bad infection. I would've died if Taylor hadn't found me.”

“So that's why you didn't want to be around kids? That's why you changed your major?”

I nodded my head. “Not right away, but after awhile, I couldn't forget. I couldn't shut them out, and every time I was around kids I . . . it hurt too much. I felt too unworthy.”

“You've never forgiven yourself, have you?”

“I guess not.” I bowed my head. “No, I haven't.”

“I know I don't have to tell you, of all people, about the cleansing blood of Jesus.”

“No, you don't.”

“Yet you've never received His forgiveness.”

After hearing the truth of her words, I broke down and cried in her arms like I was a little baby and like she was my mother. She moved over to my side of the booth and rubbed my back gently.

“It's over now. The nightmare is over now. ”

“No, it's not over.” I couldn't believe I was saying these words. “I saw him again, and the nightmare is just beginning.”

After leaving the diner with Marisol, I told Dr. Harding that I wasn't feeling well and asked if I could leave work early. Indeed, I didn't feel well. Then I took the long way home, stopping by the local elementary school. Summer school was in session. The students were lined up, single file in the schoolyard, waiting to be dismissed as their teachers lingered about chatting. I pulled over to watch this interaction between teacher and student. Then I imagined myself in their position. In my heart I knew I could make miracles in the classroom just like my mother had.

Mom was a whiz in the classroom, just like she was at home; organized and resilient. She stood six feet tall, two hundred and fifty five pounds, and believe me, she commanded respect. Folk at the church and at school called her Mom because that's just how she was, always mothering somebody. She would get in a person's face and not back down until she had their attention, until they learned something or earned something, depending on the situation. She taught Sunday School, Bible Study, and Vacation Bible School, daring kids to call the Lord's name in vain. Oh, Sister Gabrielle Carter was nothing to be played with when it came to the things of God. And Taylor and I idolized her, each of us in our own way. Suddenly the children's images began to blur. When I blinked, I realized I had to move, so I turned the key in the ignition. The stupid car wouldn't crank. I tried again, and it still wouldn't. So I stepped out of the car and opened the hood. That was something Daddy had taught me to do ever since I first learned to drive. I didn't see anything wrong at first glance, but then, I wasn't a mechanic. I checked the dipstick for oil, and then I checked the reservoir for antifreeze. I wasn't low on anything. There was neither smoke nor a burning smell. So I closed the hood and got back into the car and tried again. I thought that maybe the battery was dead. I looked around for help. Finally, I noticed an older gentleman standing nearby, probably waiting to pick up his grandchild.

“Excuse me, sir, but I think I might need a jump.”

“Sure, I've got some cables,” he said.

“Great. I really appreciate it.”

Within minutes, I watched him go to his trunk, connect the jumper cables from his battery to mine, and yet, my car still wouldn't start.

“Sorry, I couldn't help more.” He took his equipment and closed my hood, then his.

“Don't worry about it. I'll be okay.” But today I wasn't so sure.

“It maybe the alternator. You know how these things go.” He walked toward the children who were now being dismissed.

“Yes, unfortunately, I do.” I sighed. “Thank you.”

I stood there in the middle of the sidewalk with hands on my hips, trying to figure out exactly what to do next. The summer heat was beating down on my forehead. I decided to look under the hood again, not that I knew what I was looking for, but it was better than just standing around feeling stupid. After a few seconds of plundering around, I decided to call a tow truck. Suddenly I saw a shadow towering over me.

The mysterious figure turned out to be Ahmad. After realizing that it was him, my mouth hurried to catch up with my mind.

I looked up into his hazel eyes. “Oh, it's you.”

“Do you need any help?”

I didn't know what to say. “Well, actually—”

“Let's see now.” He began to look under the hood. The sun shone brightly against my bright pink Sunfire, almost blinding me at times. I attempted to block it with my purse while Ahmad seemed to lose himself in the intricacies of my engine.

With my hand on my hip, I leaned toward him. “Are you stalking me?”

“I beg your pardon.” Ahmad stopped checking the car and started to check me out.

“It's just that you came down to the church the other day, and now you're here. I thought you left town. I thought you went back to California where you belong.”

“I did leave, but now I'm back.” He ducked beneath the hood again.

“What?”

“Well, actually I'm back because I've been called back for a part I want.”

“So does that mean you've got the part?” I hoped he had done poorly on his audition. Then he would have no choice but to pack up and go back to California.

“Why the sudden interest in my theatrical success?” Ahmad showed his perfectly white teeth. “I don't know yet.”

Ahmad and I were all wrong for each other from the very beginning. Everyone knew it, I guess, except me. I was too caught up in his winning smile and smooth moves, moves that proved to be a little too sexy for me to handle. He was majoring in theatre arts with a minor in music, and he was the most exciting person around. Taylor didn't like him instantly. She said he was too shady even for her to deal with, and she dealt with all kinds. I, taken in by his charisma and fine physique, ignored her words and everyone else's. Despite rumors of his unfaithfulness around the campus and a never ending string of disagreements we had, I clung to the fact that he wanted me, that he loved me. Now where I got that idea from, I don't know. He never actually said he did, but there was something about the way he held me close to his hard chest, something that made me vulnerable. Maybe it was youth, maybe inexperience, but I fell into an Ahmad slump I couldn't easily get out of.

I sighed. “But you can't stay here.”

“Why not? Maybe it's fate.”

“It's not.” I watched him cautiously until he found the problem with a wire and corrected it. He hopped inside my car, started it up and left it running.

“This is only a temporary solution. You've got to get it fixed at a shop. But this should be enough to get you and the car home.”

“This junk just came out of the shop a few weeks ago.” I punched the hood. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome,” he said, walking back to his own car.

I hopped into my car and took off without hesitation. Something inside me wouldn't let me linger.

The next day, since my car was in the shop again, I climbed onto the bus and pushed my change into the fare box. I was back on the bus. The bustling crowds, the noise, and the putrid smells were all the same. I squeezed by the people standing up in the front and tried to find a seat nearest to the driver. There were none left, so I ended up standing between two men, one who winked at me and the other who found it necessary to rub his arm against mine. I couldn't wait to get my car out of the shop. In the meanwhile, I was sentenced to this cultural affliction called public transportation.

When I reached my stop, I rang the bell and made my way to the back door.I stepped down, careful as not to trip, and turned the corner quickly. One block up the street I saw my dad's small house. I was home.

I used my key to enter the front door and immediately called out to my father. He came out from the kitchen slowly, walking with his cane, and he hugged me.

“I'm glad you came by.”

“Me too, Dad.” I sat down on the lumpy old sofa and remembered Mom sitting in that exact spot days before she died. “How are you?”

“I'm doing pretty good.” Dad chuckled. “You look raggedy though.”

“I'm sure I do. I've had a rough morning.”

“Oh?”

“I've just come from work,” I said.

“Are you going to see your sister today?”

“Probably not. I need a break.”

“Say no more. She gave me a hard time last time I went. I'm going to take a break for a couple of days too. My pressure is up and the last thing I need is to have it out with your sister.”

“I know what you mean.”

“I don't know what your mom and I were thinking having twins.” Dad laughed and I could see that his teeth were missing.

“Dad, where are your teeth?”

“I don't need them right now. They're uncomfortable.”

“Dad, I don't know what to do about Taylor. Just when I thought there was a chance of her turning to God, this accident pushes her even farther away.”

“Maybe it has, but then maybe it hasn't. You never know how God will be able to use a thing.” Dad smiled in his usual way. “His thoughts are not our thoughts, and His ways are not our ways.”

“You sound like Mom.” I looked over at her picture on the center table.

“Your mother was a wise woman.” Dad had a faraway look in his eye.

“I know, but I feel so sorry for Taylor. They're going to try a new method on her.”

“What kind of new method?”

I vividly remembered the conversation I had with the doctor as he described the efficiency of this new method. He explained how it helped victims of spinal chord lesion or paraplegia or other diseases affecting the central nervous system. I tried to grasp what he was telling me, but I was never really good at science. As he went on and on about passive exercise versus active exercise and the intensity of each, I must admit I was totally lost.

“Something about a dynamic therapy device called Giger MD. It's supposed to help people with her kind of injury.”

“Good,” Dad said.

“I just can't stop feeling sorry for her.” Dad reached over me to get a bowl of cashews on the side table. “You should. She has been through a lot.”

“She's so lost.”

“And what about you?” Dad looked directly at me. “Aren't you lost, baby girl?”

“What do you mean?”

“You've been running yourself, not away from God, maybe, but away from His purpose.”

“Purpose? I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Didn't you tell me a few months ago that you were thinking about going back to school to become a teacher, saying that you should've become one sooner?” Dad cracked open the cashews with the nutcracker and ate them one at a time.

“Yes, but—”

“And don't you want to be a teacher?”

“I don't know. I don't really know what I want.” I leaned back against a knitted blanket. “I don't know what happened. You used to know exactly what you wanted. You were very much like your mother.” Dad pushed his reading glasses down on his nose as if he were studying me.

“I know I'm comfortable at my job. I like the people, and I do my work well but—”

“But what?”

“But I want to do more.” I grabbed a flowered throw pillow, one my mother had sewn with her own hands.

“So you want a promotion?

“Yes. No. I want to teach. I want to work with children but—”

“But you won't do what is necessary to achieve this?”

“It's not that, it's just that I'd have to go through the whole school thing all over again.” I hated lying to my father, but I couldn't possibly break his heart by telling him the truth.

“So what? Are you afraid of failure?”

“I'm not afraid. I'm just not sure I want to change my life right now.”

Mom would never have accepted that excuse. She would have rebuked me right then and there. She was that kind of woman, a no-nonsense Christian who believed that God's Word was the final authority no matter what. She did a pretty good job of instilling that in me, but I don't know where Taylor was during these lessons. Probably somewhere clowning, as usual.

Dad had a solemn look on his face. “Not even if it's God's will?”

“How do I know it's God's will? He might be happy with me being a secretary or a public relations liaison.”

“But I know you're not happy. You want to teach like your mother. I always thought you would.” Dad swirled his tongue around in his mouth, something he did whenever he didn't have his teeth in.

“So did I.”

“You pray about it, and He'll reveal the answer to you.”

“I will.”

“Just don't close Him out,” Dad crunched on the cashews.

“I won't. I promise.” I wasn't sure where this promise would take me, butI made it, and I would keep it.

I went into the kitchen to fix my dad and me some dinner; looked into the refrigerator and cabinets only to be disappointed. I had almost forgotten that Dad was retired, now living on a fixed income. I managed to find a few miscellaneous items I could work with. I opened up two cans of corned beef and proceeded to put them into a hot frying pan. Then I sliced an onion and mixed the pieces in with corned beef. I boiled rice and opened a can of asparagus. Then I poured two glasses of apple juice and served it on the small round oak table. “Come on. Dinner is ready.”

Dad walked in and sat down at the table.“I'm going to have to bring you some groceries.”

“Don't worry about that. I'm hardly home anyway. Between helping out at the church, and then at the community center, I won't have time to eat them.”

“Well, we'll just have to see about that. I'm going shopping anyway.” I opened the refrigerator again and continued rummaging through it.

“How are the wedding plans coming?”

“Everything is fine. Josh is fine.” I confiscated a few rotten apples and an almost finished quart of sour milk.

“You don't look happy for someone who will be getting married in a couple of weeks.”

I didn't like where this conversation was going.

“Daddy.”

“Don't Daddy me. I know my girls, and you're not happy. Did those Benningses insult you, baby, 'cause I'll—”

“Joshua's parents have not insulted me, Dad.”

“All right. Don't forget about your promise though.”

“Believe me, I can't.”
Lord, help me.

 

 

By the time I left my dad's house, I felt drained. I was walking up the street to the bus stop when I heard that same familiar, yet annoying voice.

“Hello, Miss.”

I turned around to face his almost hypnotizing eyes.

“Oh, it's you again.”

“I was hoping for a better reaction than that.”

I put one hand on my hip. “I'm sorry, but that's all I've got.”

“A beautiful young woman like you shouldn't be walking these streets alone.”

“Please. My car is in the shop, remember? So I'm taking the bus.”

“That's no problem. I'm parked right over there.” He pointed to a shiny looking Honda Accord that was parked across the street. “I can give you a drop wherever you need to be.”

“No thanks. I don't need a ride.”

“Oh come on, Alex. I'm not a stranger, and I did help you get your car started when you were stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

“You're right, and I thanked you for that already. I don't owe you anything else.”

“I can be your knight in shining armor if you let me.”

He managed to make me blush with that one. He certainly had a way with his words, always did.

“Thanks anyway, but that ship has sailed.” I continued walking until I reached the bus stop. The bus was coming, so I didn't even have time to see his reaction. I just boarded the bus and never looked back. Even as the bus rolled away, I wondered, now that Ahmad seemed determined to stay in New York, what I was going to do.