Cali, it’s Allina. Please call me when you get this message.”
“Hey Cali, it’s me again. I miss you. Baby Brynn wants to see her godmother. More than that, I need to hear from my best friend. Call me.”
“Hi, Cali. It’s me, Corrine. Daddy told me I could call you. I miss you. My hair looks a mess.”
“I’m not even sure why I’m calling you. Well, yes I am, Syd forced me to. But it’s only because she loves you. You’re her family. And I guess you’re mine, too. You don’t have to call me back. Just call someone. Later.”
“Cali, if you don’t bring your black ass back here, I’m going to fly down there and bring you back myself.”
Cali chuckled at Kent’s message. It had been a few weeks since she’d left Red and everyone else behind. She’d hopped on a late flight and arrived in Atlanta early the next morning. From there, an airport limousine drove her to Uncle Cal’s midtown condo. She’d spent the first few days cleaning up, packing boxes, and donating clothes and furniture to Goodwill. It’s what Uncle Cal would have wanted. He was a proud man, never forgot where he came from and never hesitated to help someone else in need.
She hadn’t heard from Red except in a curt e-mail regarding Uncle Cal’s affairs. She’d responded, asking how he and Corrine were, but he never replied. That last conversation haunted her. The look in his eyes, the desperation in his tone, cost her many hours of sleep.
In fact it seemed as though Red had taken up residence in her dreams. It was like he lived in there. Every time she closed her eyes she saw him—his dimpled smile, his hazel eyes, his lean figure. And it wasn’t only in her dreams. She’d walk outside to have a glass of wine on the deck and swore she saw his face in the stars. She’d wake up in the morning, missing his arms around her and the way he kissed her awake.
Over the past few days she’d picked up the phone to call him more times than she could count. Something always stopped her. Even if she wanted to call him, she figured he probably wouldn’t pick up, after the way she’d walked out on him. She’d hurt him, and he was the last person she wanted to hurt.
Sighing, she picked up a stack of mail held together by a thick rubber band. One return address read “Sunny Day Homes.” She pulled the single envelope from the pile and opened it up, reading the small print. Her eyes zeroed in on the name there—Carmen Harper.
The paper slipped from her grasp, floating onto the carpet. It was a bill. Not only was her mother alive, but she lived in the area. What now? Pushing that stack aside, she picked up another stack of envelopes, all addressed to Uncle Cal in perfect handwriting. All were unopened except one—the first one. According to the postmark, it had been received seventeen years earlier.
Curious, she snatched the letter from the open envelope. Realizing who it was from, she read on.
I wanted to write to tell you how sorry I am. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you when you came to visit me. You’ve never deserved anything I’ve ever done to you. I’ve put you in a bind all our lives. And now I’ve done the unthinkable. I’ve hurt my own child. Cali has always deserved a better mother than I could ever be. It’s the reason why I’ll never contact her. When you turned me away, I was angry. But I know now that you did the right thing. That’s why I told you I didn’t want to see her. It’s best that she move on with her life. It’s the only way she’ll ever be free.
I wish I was strong enough to fight the demons inside of me, but I’m not. I’d only hurt her. I’m stuck, I can’t walk, can barely talk, and I had to ask a nurse to write this letter for me. But it’s what I deserve. Cali told me she hated me before I left her alone that night. Let her. It will propel her to do better with her life. Take care of her like you would your own. I know you will.
Carmen
Cali folded up the letter and opened the next one. Before long, she’d finished all of them. Each of them said pretty much the same thing, some offering excuses and some not. As time passed, the letters became shorter, often only one or two sentences. She figured by now her mother wasn’t communicating at all. Uncle Cal hadn’t read any of them, and she wondered why. Before, she’d have taken the fact that her mother couldn’t communicate as vindication, punishment for the way she’d been treated. Instead, she was just sad.
Forgiveness isn’t for them. It’s for you.
Uncle Cal’s voice rang in her head. He’d told her that one random night. They’d been sitting on the porch, drinking a glass of wine, and he’d just said it. She’d always wondered where those words came from, but it all made sense to her now.
Glancing at the roaring fire in front her, she tossed the pile of letters into the flames, watching as they engulfed the pieces of paper. She finished packing up the last of Uncle Cal’s things and labeled the box for the Salvation Army. They were scheduled to arrive in the morning. She spun around the empty condo, surprised by the sense of accomplishment she felt. Uncle Cal had been all about getting a job done, and she’d done what he would want. She just had to do one more thing.
* * *
A few days later, Cali sat in a rental car staring at the building in front of her. She tapped the steering wheel with her thumbs and wondered if being there was the right thing to do. Scanning the grounds, she watched as women in scrubs pushed people in wheelchairs toward a beautiful park. It was a peaceful scene, one right out of a book.
Cali opened the car and walked into the building. She smiled at an elderly lady shuffling down the hall on a walker. The young receptionist greeted her and asked her who she was there to visit.
“Carmen Harper,” Cali told the blonde.
The woman instructed Cali on the rules, pushing a clipboard toward her so that she could sign her name. Once she completed the visitor’s form, the lady smiled. “Are you Carmen’s daughter?”
Cali nodded. “I am.”
“You look like her. I’m so sorry to hear about her brother passing. His attorney called and informed us of his death. He was always so nice when he came to see her, such a wonderful man.”
“He was a great guy, a great father to me.”
“Carmen is at the park. Take the path down toward the pond. She likes to sit out and watch the ducks.” Cali took a shaky breath. She was finally going to see her mother again after all these years. She wanted to see for herself the woman Carmen Harper really was.
“Thank you.” Cali started to walk away, but turned back. “The attorney… Did he take care of the bill? I mean, does she have enough to take care of her daily needs?”
“I processed the paperwork myself. I’m actually one of the accounting reps for the facility, filling in at the front desk. The trust that was set up will ensure that she has a bed here for the rest of her life. However, it doesn’t provide for the incidentals that may come up. I did tell Mr. Williams that over the phone and he told me he’d handle any extra expenses himself.”
“There’s no need. I’ll take care of it. You can contact me from now on. The only thing I ask is that you don’t tell… my mother anything about it.”
“Honestly, I’m not sure she’d understand if I did. You’re welcome to talk to her doctor if you want.”
“No. I just want to make sure she’s comfortable. And I’d also like to be notified if her health changes for the worse.”
“I can definitely make a note in the file. Right now, everything is set up to flow to Mr. Williams, but I’ll add you to the list.”
“Thank you.” She passed her business card over the counter.
The woman smiled kindly. “I’ll be in touch.”
Cali twisted the strap of her purse around her finger and pushed the door open, turning toward the pond. What a difference a state makes: instead of frigid temperatures and snow storms, the weather in Savannah was perfect—not too hot or cold.
She stepped across the grass, cursing when her heel sunk in as she walked. What the hell was I thinking wearing my good pumps? Deciding to chance it, she bent down and pulled off her shoes and continued down a hill. She stopped when she spotted a woman sitting quietly in a wheelchair. She had an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. In a few minutes, she’d be face to face with her mother.
Cali tilted her head, trying to make out the features. The woman was brown-skinned; her graying hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She sat staring out at the water. Another woman, an aide or something, sat near her, reading a book.
“Carmen,” she heard the aide say. “Are you getting cold?”
Holding her breath, she watched while the aide stood up and adjusted the blanket on her mother’s lap. The years had been kind to Carmen Harper despite her many vices. She looked exactly like Cali remembered: beautiful.
The aide looked at her and smiled. “Hi. Are you here to see Carmen?”
Cali glanced at her mother, who didn’t seem to be aware that a conversation was happening behind her. She continued to gaze at the water, not moving. If Cali hadn’t seen the slow rise and fall of her chest, she’d think she was unconscious or something.
“Excuse me?” the aide asked. When Cali met her questioning eyes again, she pointed toward Carmen. “Are you here to see Ms. Harper?”
Cali couldn’t take her eyes off of her mother’s back, her slumped posture. Then her mother turned to face her, looked at her—or through her. Holding her breath, Cali waited. As she stared into her mother’s eyes, she didn’t feel any connection to the woman who’d given birth to her. Not love, not hate. Nothing.
Red was right. Cali was not Carmen. She’d spent so much time living behind her mother’s crazy shadow and she didn’t have to. Uncle Cal had made sure she had choices. Her life was better without her mother. She’d thought she would feel better if she could confront the woman before her, tell her how much she sucked. But what would that prove?
I don’t need this. The realization struck her like a bolt of lightning and she stumbled back a few steps.
What she needed was Red. What she wanted was a life with Red. She wanted to be there for Corrine in a way her mother had never been there for her. When she thought about her future, she hoped she would be taking Corrine to dance class, helping her get ready for her first date… planning her wedding.
The aide started to stand and Cali held up hand, signaling that she was fine.
“Do you know Ms. Harper?” The aide asked.
Shaking her head, Cali cleared her throat. “No. No, I don’t.”
Without another word, Cali turned and tore across the lawn, running as fast as she could until she reached the car. And she didn’t look back. She was done letting her past rule her future. She tossed her shoes onto the passenger seat and rested her head on the steering wheel. Taking a deep breath, she turned the key in the ignition and took off down the winding driveway. She was going home. And she prayed it wasn’t too late.