| |
Driving away from the Taylors’ house, Deja yawned. Her headlights illuminated the wide, empty street. It’d been a long day, and she couldn’t wait to crawl into bed... alone.
She glanced into the backseat. “Did you have fun, Miles?”
Miles’s wide smile gave away the answer. “Yep. We had pizza.”
“Yum. How was school today?” When Miles didn’t answer, Deja glanced at her son again, seeing a frown on his face. “What’s wrong, buddy?”
“Nothin’.”
Deja knew better but wasn’t sure why he’d seemed down lately. “You sure?”
He nodded a little too quickly. “Yeah. You worked late.”
Deja let him get away with changing the subject but made a mental note to follow up. “Sorry about that. I had a wedding. I hate keeping you up late when you have school in the morning.”
“It’s okay. When I’m big, I’m gonna be in the NBA. I’ll buy you a big house and a car. You won’t have to work so hard no more.”
Deja beamed. “Anymore. You’re the best son a mom could ask for.”
After Deja navigated into her parking spot, she and Miles hurried into their apartment. She plopped her purse down on the kitchen table, where a folded piece of paper caught her attention. “Brush your teeth, and head to bed. I’ll come in to give you a hug.”
“’Kay.” Miles dropped his backpack near the door then slipped down the hall to the bathroom.
Deja opened the paper. “I had fun... Reconsider?”
“Not a chance,” she mumbled, tearing the paper to pieces then tossing it into the trash. The last thing she needed was Miles finding it and asking questions. Rodney only came over either when Miles wasn’t home or late at night when he was in bed. Her mom had had a slew of men in and out of their house during Deja’s childhood, and Deja had always promised herself that she’d never do that to her children. She hadn’t expected to have a child as young as she did, but life had a way of doing that: pulling the rug out from under her when she least expected it.
She walked to Miles’s room, leaned down, and kissed his forehead. Sitting on his twin-size bed, she removed one of his favorite basketball books from his hands and rested it on the dresser.
Miles reached for the book. “But Mom, I haven’t finished reading.”
Deja ruffled his curls. “Boy, you have that book memorized. You could recite it in your sleep if you needed to.”
Miles mimicked shooting a basketball, holding his follow-through. “I’m gonna be just like Steph Curry.”
Deja tucked the blue-and-yellow blanket around him. “Well, even Steph Curry needs his sleep in order to make all those three-pointers. I love you.” Deja switched off the lights and left the room. She didn’t want to dash Miles’s dreams of being in the NBA, so she played along. But his dream was about as far fetched as the one Deja had as a child to walk on the moon. Unfortunately, dreams usually didn’t come true.
She headed straight to the cramped bathroom and started the bath. She couldn’t wait to soak her body until her fingers and toes wrinkled. Abandoning her clothes, she stepped into the tub and squirted Mr. Bubble’s pink liquid into the spurting water. Although Miles had said after his first day of kindergarten last year that he was now too old for bubbles, Deja always kept a bottle in the house. The scent reminded her of her grandmother, Dorothy. After Deja’s birth and when her dad had gone to prison after getting his third strike, her mom had moved back into Grammy’s old and tiny house. But what it lacked in size and extravagance was balanced by the amount of love filling the space.
As a mom, Deja could only imagine that Grammy must have been disappointed when Deja’s mom, her only child, wound up pregnant at the age of sixteen then dropped out of high school and moved in with the largest drug dealer on the block. But Grammy never showed Deja anything but love after they moved in with her. She watched Deja during the day while her mom worked at a fast food restaurant down the street. Grammy spoiled her with goodies like oatmeal raisin cookies, sweet potato pies, and upside-down cakes. There were always neighbor ladies squeezing into Grammy’s cramped kitchen throughout the day, pinching Deja’s cheeks before sitting down with a glass of sweet tea and gossiping about the latest neighborhood drama. After a long day, Grammy would run Deja a bath with Mr. Bubble and let her play until steam-induced fatigue set in.
Deja shut off the running water with her foot and closed her eyes. The hot water worked like magic, easing every tight knot in her back. Sometimes, she liked to imagine life if her Grammy hadn’t died so young from diabetic complications. Everything would have been different. Life with her mom was a huge hurricane, and Grammy was the shelter that had kept her safe in the storm. But after Grammy’s death, everything had changed.
Dread welled up in Deja’s stomach at the memory of the nightmare that became her life after Grammy’s passing. Though hot water soaked her body, a cold sweat lined her forehead. Even a bath couldn’t drown the memories. Deja unplugged the drain. She toweled off, tossed on her nightgown, and went to her bedroom.
Though her tiny apartment lacked many amenities, she followed Grammy’s example and filled it with love for Miles. She’d have to figure out what was bothering him and find a way to fix whatever it was. She lowered herself onto her queen bed and reached into her drawer to get her headscarf. The letter her mother had given her a few months ago fell out. She picked it up and stared at her mom’s handwriting.
She’d resisted meeting up with her mom for over half a year, but her mom’s persistence eventually wore her down. Deja had been completely shocked when her mom called her. They hadn’t spoken since Deja ran away at fifteen years old.
Her mom claimed she had been clean and sober for two years, working the Alcoholics Anonymous steps, and now wanted to make amends to Deja, her only child. Deja had not so politely told her mom to lose her number and that she never wanted to hear from her again. But her mom kept calling.
Eventually, Deja agreed to meet up with her mom at a diner in downtown Oakland. Her only intention for the meeting was to tell her mom to stop contacting her for good. And she had certainly said that. But her mom’s genuine desire to make things better between the two of them surprised Deja. After Grammy’s death, Deja’d felt like a nuisance in her mom’s life. No matter what her mom said, Deja couldn’t get used to this new woman, who claimed she wanted to be a part of her daughter and grandchild’s life. Deja would never let that happen.
She reread her mom’s letter.
Dearest Deja,
I know words alone can’t make up for the pain and hurt I’ve caused you over the years. But I hope my actions can show you that I’ve changed and am sincere. I’m so sorry for my past behavior and will spend my life trying to make things right between us. Please, just give me a chance.
Love, Kim (Mom)
Deja wanted to tear the letter up the way she had Rodney’s stupid note, but for some reason, she folded it and returned it to the drawer. She couldn’t care less if her mom had stopped drinking and doubted it would last. She wanted nothing to do with that woman ever again and simply wanted to move on.
But there was still Kevin. She could never leave the past behind with him in the picture. She grabbed her phone and dialed him.
“I’m not changing my mind,” Kevin said after the first ring.
Deja hated how well he knew her. “Kevin, if you show up, you’ll ruin everything.”
“I could care less about the bougie fairy tale you’re living. We both know where you’re from and who you really are. That don’t change, and you won’t either. I’m getting what you owe me, one way or another.”
“All I’m saying is to give me a little more time.” Deja’s words tasted bitter. She hadn’t yet figured out how to repay Kevin, and part of her suspected that no matter what she gave him, he would never be satisfied. She hated having him hold her past over her.
“Time’s up.”
The call ended, and Deja braced herself for the hell that was to come.