mi padre

Surprisingly, conversation comes rather easily between us. In the beginning, we had our awkward moments, but then I figured that Faith and I got along so well, I should be able to get along with him just fine.

I actually learned a lot from him. He taught me how to read the stock pages and balance a checkbook. He taught me how to check the fluids and change the oil in my car, which was a present for my sixteenth birthday. He taught me how to make lemon meringue pie and cheesecake from scratch. And he also taught me about my mother.

“Song,” he said one day. “Did you know that your mother could sing?”

I stopped grating lemon peel and racked my brain for a time when I heard my mother sing. I couldn't think of one. The only time she lifted her voice was when she was hollering at me.

“No, I didn't know that,” I responded, returning to my lemon zest.

“She used to sing in church when she first moved to North Philly. She used to bring folks to tears,” he said, checking my egg whites. “Well, that's what she said,” he added. “By the time I met her, she hadn't set foot inside of a church for years.”

I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear what he was saying, but for some reason, he needed to say it, so I didn't interrupt.

“She attended that church at Ninth and Ontario. The preacher used to compliment her singing and all, and pretty soon, he started sniffing around her. I imagine that she was flattered and all, with him being a man of the cloth and so prominent in the community. She invited him to her home and to her bed. The next thing you know, Caramia pops up. She said that the reason why she named the child that was because after a while, the reverend just called her ‘my dear,' like he forgot her name. Anyway, once Caramia was born, and the elders of the church didn't see any husband around, they called her to repent for her sinful ways. She had to walk to the front of the congregation and ask them for forgiveness. What added insult to injury was the fact that the reverend never parted his lips on her behalf. He never acknowledged that child.”

With my pie in the oven, there was nothing else for me to do but listen.

“After she left the church, she needed something to occupy her time, so she started to hang with some civil rights folks. You know, she worked behind the scenes. She always was a hard worker. She got involved with one of the leaders. That's when Freeman came in. She started trying to flex her muscles some, get some respect. But many of those civil rights folks were hard-core sexists, and they couldn't deal with a strong woman stepping out of her place. She got ostracized, and that guy she was dealing with never tried to stand up for her. He was afraid to go against the grain. So that was that.”

I was uncomfortable learning so much about my mother. Things I never knew and never even suspected. I got up to check on the pies in the oven. I remained by the stove, waiting for him to continue.

“Sojourn's daddy wasn't worth a damn. He was there one day and gone the next.”

He wiped his hands emphatically, like he was saying, “Good-bye and good riddance.”

I looked at him with tears behind my lids. “What about my daddy?”

He sighed and sat back in his chair. His hands glided across the table and back again. After clearing his throat, he spoke.

“Your daddy fell in love with your mother. When he first saw her, she was standing alone on stage in a jazz club. Music was pouring out of her body, and the room was thick with the sadness and the pain flowing from between her lips. When she finished her set, your father was waiting for her by the alley where he knew she'd go to take a smoke. She had that scratchy roughness about her voice that all smokers have. Your father, not knowing that woman from Eve, took your mother in his arms and hugged her. She didn't even try to push him away. Your father rocked her and rocked her there in the darkness of the alley. He heard her murmur, ‘I ain't got nothin' left to give. I gave my love. I gave my heart. All I got is my song.' Your father didn't bat an eye. He said simply, ‘And what a beautiful song it is.' ”

The tears hit before I could leave the room. Now I know that all my mother wanted was to love and be loved.