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As soon as the ride is over, I don’t wait for Jessa, Xave, or JJ. My vision is fine, I’m fine.
The line moves. I watch as the people load into the car, grin and talk excitedly. Safety measures are checked and then the car moves slowly to the incline. I face Jessa, JJ, and Xavier again.
“Did you know that every 52 minutes a person is killed by a drunk driver? And...” My mouth spews facts of information about drunk driving like an erupting volcano. I’m jittery.
My leg bounces nervously and I keep hiccupping louder and faster. People talk all around us but we wait our turn without words.
blurry because of the tears. Roller coasters are thrill rides. Why wasn’t I thrilled? Instead, I feel like this has been a traumatic experience. I’ve already ruined this trip for my friends so I think I should be alone. Actually, that’s not true. I want my dad.
I reach into the crossbody bag that Aunt Didi gave me and take out my phone. Jessa’s face pops up but I decline the call. I don’t want to talk to her. I dial my dad but he doesn’t answer. I call him four times back to back and still no answer. I find a restaurant and sit in a booth near a window in the back. Not many people are inside eating, which is fine for me. I lick at my salty tears.
“You alright?” a waiter asks me.
I nod. “Could I have a ginger ale? Do you have that?”
“Yep. We do now because so many people feel queasy. I’ll bring you some and some soda crackers.” She smiles and leaves.
I put my head down on the table and continue letting the tears fall. The waitress puts the soda down on the table along with a plate of crackers. When I look up to thank her, my dad is sitting across from me. How did he find me?
He shows me his phone. “Locator.”
Oh yeah. I keep forgetting to turn that off.
“Talk to me,” he says.
“I...I want my mom back,” I say in between sobs. “I haven’t seen Mama, not even in a dream. Have you? Is she happy? Does she miss me? I’ve heard her voice, but I want to see her. I want to talk to her. I don’t understand God. Why would he take her away from me?”
I ask more questions. Some I know my dad may not have an answer to, but I’m not giving him a chance to answer. I’m just throwing question after question. By the end of my questions, the collar of my shirt is soaked with tears. “I miss her so much, Dad. Why? I don’t understand any of this.”
I wrap my arms around myself and rock back and forth. My dad scoots into the booth next to me and I weep onto his shoulders.
“Well Buttercup, I don’t have answers to all of those questions. Isaiah 55:8-9, ‘God’s thoughts are not our thoughts and His ways are not our ways, the heavens are higher than the Earth and so God’s thoughts are higher than our thoughts.’”
I don’t want to hear Bible verses.
“...and Romans 8:28, ‘All things work for the good of—’”
I stop him. “Good? How is this good? I don’t want to hear that, Dad! Nothing good has come from Mama being killed! She was taken from me because I asked for some stupid skates!”
He’s silent for a moment but then he speaks quietly.
“I know it doesn’t seem right or fair at all. I’ve thought about these things too. The person that was drunk driving was in a dark place, and that little bit of darkness took away someone who was really special to a lot of people. You’re not the only one suffering here, Buttercup.”
I wipe my nose on the sleeve of my shirt and my dad pulls several napkins out of the napkin dispenser on the table.
“I lost a really great friend, my best friend,” Dad says. “We’d been friends since we met at Youth Camp when she was 17. She wrote me letters. I know you think we’re like super old because we wrote letters, but she liked the idea of putting pen to paper. It meant more to her than sending me an email. She would write me every week and she kept on writing me even after we got married. Do you know what it feels like to lose someone that’s been by your side for so long?”
I know he knew my mama longer, so I don’t know how it feels for him. I only know it aches for me.
Dad continues, “And then, think of Adele, JJ’s mom. Shortly after moving back here, she lost both of her parents and now she’s lost a best friend too. Adele may seem strong, but James has said she’s cried every morning.”
I didn’t know that she was hurting as well but it makes sense. Mama was her best friend.
“Your Aunt Didi lost a sister. Your uncle lost a sister-in-law. People at the church lost a confidant. People at the bakery lost a really good baker. Her friends lost a kind-hearted and generous person. You know how your Mama got the name Honey?”
I do know, but Dad proceeds to tell me anyway.
“She always did kind things for people. Even when she was hurting, she was a light. She’d bake something when she was off work and take it over to people who were hurting too. Honey would stay up late or get up early and say, ‘I have to bake this cake for so-in-so, she just lost her dog,’ or she’d say, ‘Sista Brenda is upset about her son going overseas, I’m going to bring her this dessert.’ She always said something sweet makes the heart feel better.”
My tears still fall and my nose runs like crazy.
“Clove, when Clement lost his house to the tornado, what did you do?”
I know this answer. I hadn’t said anything to Clement other than accusing him of stealing money. Maybe he did steal it, but I had no proof. Perhaps, I should’ve been trying harder to help him.
“When JJ lost both of his grandparents, what did you do?” my dad continues to ask.
I tried to be there for JJ, but he did as he always did back then; withdrew from the crowd and read books. Mama baked things for them and went over to their house every day.
“JJ’s grandma and your grandma were best friends as well. They shared recipes together. Your Mama got many recipes from his grandmother. His grandma shared them with her because she knew your Mama’s dream. Believe it or not, I think your Mama has passed her dream and gifts to you.”
Dad’s right. I do love baking and I’ve kinda been looking forward to making this cake for Ms. Brenda but I’m also nervous. What if I mess up? Or it doesn’t turn out right? Mama won’t be here to help me.
“Giants,” Dad says. “Big things in life that come our way when we don’t expect them. Like Goliath. Your Mama’s death was a giant. But don’t let it knock you down. You’re strong and your mama has taught you more than you think. What would she do today if she were still here? How can you honor her?”
My tears fall again because I wish she was still here. But even though she’s not, I know exactly what she would be doing.
My phone rings and I take it out of my bag. Several text messages and missed calls appear.
My dad sees them. “You are very loved, Clove. Your friends are dedicated to you and they’re concerned. I think they’ve called me just as much as they’ve called you. I also think all three of them have snuck money into my bag. I have $400 now. Don’t know who the fourth person is but I know you didn’t steal the money and I was wrong to accuse you. ”
I’m glad that he finally believes me. I’d obviously tried to starve myself before taking his money.
“And I’m also sorry that I haven’t been very understanding or available. After your mom passed, I got tunnel vision. I started focusing on something else to take my mind off my hurt. Starting a church in Las Vegas isn’t nearly as important as being here for you.”
Dad watches as my phone rings again. “When you have good friends, they’re going to worry about you regardless of what you say or do. You should talk to them and try to have fun.”
They are really good friends. I text them back letting them know where I am.