“How old is she,” Xavari wanted to know.

“She’s five years older than me,” Emmanuel said.

“That makes her 40,” Xavari thought out loud.

“Yes. She’s 40, but you wouldn’t know it to look at her. Anyway, I couldn’t believe it when I got a date with her. I was majoring in accounting in college, but I worked…”

“Why aren’t you an accountant now?” Xavari gave Emmanuel a quizzical look.

“Do you want to hear this or not?” Emmanuel gave Xavari an annoyed look.

Silence.

“Yes, I got my degree in accounting, but I hate numbers. That, too, is another story. Anyway, I worked in the mailroom when I was interning for her uncle’s firm. I was delivering a package to her office, and when I got there she was bent over trying to move a filing cabinet by herself. The second thing I saw of Denise was her beautiful, flawless dark-skinned face. The first thing I saw was her round…”

“T.M.I., Emmanuel. Keep it moving.” Xavari showed him the palm of her hand and rolled her eyes. Emmanuel chuckled. He couldn’t help picturing Denise’s perfectly-shaped backside in the lavender slacks that hugged her rump like a surgical glove. Emmanuel cleared his throat.

“Sorry. After I moved the cabinet for her, and before I left her office, we had agreed to meet that evening for drinks.”

“Dang, did she even know who you were?” Xavari wrinkled her forehead.

“I told her that right before I asked her out.” Emmanuel chuckled again as more of the memories of that day unfolded in his mind.

“OK, so how did drinks turn into y’all making, not one but, four babies together?”

“Our relationship was really intense, and her family truly disapproved of it, especially her father. Remember I told you she comes from money? It’s old money.”

“Old money?” Xavari had never heard that term.

“Yeah. Old money is money that’s been in a family for generations and generations. Old money means that there are generations in a family who’ve never had to work a day in their lives. Old money makes new money and future generations live off the new money which is actually old money again once the newer generations are dipping into it.”

“How’s that even possible for black people? I mean, you said she’s dark-skinned, so I’m assuming both her parents are black, right?”

“Yeah, both her parents are black, but Denise was adopted so she doesn’t look like them at all. They’re very high-yellow; so are all her siblings. Denise told me she was, too, when she was born, which is when they adopted her. She said as she got older, she got darker.”

“That must have been a shock for her parents,” Xavari said, shaking her head.

“Oddly enough, they don’t really seem to be color-struck. Her two older brothers married dark-skinned women and all their children are dark. Denise’s parents dote on them just as much as they dote on the lighter-skinned children of her younger brothers.

“How many of them are there?”

“Five total. Denise is the only girl and she’s in the middle. She has two older brothers and two younger brothers. Her parents adopted her after the first two boys. Because of complications, her mother couldn’t have any more children after her second son and she wanted a daughter. The two brothers under Denise are adopted, too. Unlike Denise, though, if you look at the younger two brothers, you wouldn’t know they were adopted. They’re the same complexion as the older two boys, and they look like them, too. It’s weird how that can happen.”

“Wow. Really? That’s crazy.” Xavari found herself getting reeled into this story like a fish on a hook.

“Yeah, I know. No, her parents aren’t color-struck. They’re money-struck, if that’s a term. Everything with them is about their money. At least, that’s the deal with her father. He tried to convince Denise that’s why I wanted to be with her. That man tried everything to get her to stop seeing me. He said I was too young. He said I was uneducated. He told her I didn’t come from the right,” Emmanuel made quote signs with his fingers, “pedigree. He tried to convince her I couldn’t provide for her in the manner in which she was accustomed to being kept. His badgering backfired, though. When he ran me down, Denise ran straight into my arms. The tears he created, I wiped away. The anguish he inflicted, I quieted. One thing led to another, and she found out she was pregnant with William.”

“That must have been wild, knowing her parents didn’t want you around, let alone a baby by you.”

“Yeah, it was a trip. She thought that her family would have to accept me once they knew she was carrying my baby, but that just made everything worse. Her father tried to pay me off to get me out of her life, but I told him to go…well, I wanted to tell him to go screw himself. Instead, I just refused the money.”

“Man, this sounds like some white-people mess.” Xavari was hanging on Emmanuel’s every word.

“Naw, this experience showed me that the world is not exclusively about black and white people being at opposition with one another. That was some “have and have not” mess. That’s more universal than anything else going on between any race of people.”

“You should have taken his money and then just kept seeing her. I mean, she was having your baby, for goodness sake.” Xavari was imaging how she would have handled the situation had she been Emmanuel.

“No, my parents didn’t raise me like that. My Dad always taught me that my word was the only thing I truly had to give and could keep. Had I taken that man’s money, I would have been obligated to give up Denise and my baby. I wasn’t taking that chance, not with my first-born.” Emmanuel sort of stared off into space as he recalled the depression of that time in his life.

“OK, so it obviously worked itself out. I mean, William is here and y’all had three more children together. What happened? Did her family finally stop tripping?”

“No. Things got worse.” Emmanuel grew silent. Xavari waited for him to speak, but the waiting was agony.

“How much worse,” she asked.

Silence.

“Hey, if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s cool.” Xavari was so hoping he wanted to talk about it. She started sending “talk about it, talk about it, talk about it” mental telepathy in his direction. She caught herself leaning forward and relaxed herself. She didn’t want to appear too anxious, but she was dying to hear what happened.

“Well, her father gave her three choices.” Emmanuel stopped speaking again. Xavari gave him a few moments.

“What were the choices,” she asked in a low tone, trying not to provoke him. She wasn’t sure if her probing would cause him to clam up for good.

“Well, one, her father told her she could have an abortion and he would take care of it. Two, he told her she could go away, have the baby and give it up for adoption. Or three, he told her she could keep the baby, continue to see me and be disowned and written out of his will.”

“WHAT?!?!” Xavari was dumbfounded.

“Yeah, that man hated me that much.”

“I don’t understand why he didn’t like you. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I mean, you had to do something, Emmanuel. I just can’t see the man hating you for no reason.” Xavari could hear the skepticism in her own voice. She knew Emmanuel could hear it, too.

“No, I didn’t do anything to that man but date his daughter. That’s it. When he just thought I was a friend, everything was cool. I’d go to their house, have dinner, watch DVDs, play with Denise’s nieces and nephews, swim in their pool, everything. He knew I was an intern at his brother’s firm, and he talked to be on several occasions about my plans after college and he even told me he admired me starting from the bottom and looking to work my way up in his brother’s firm. Everything was going great until I decided to ask Denise to be my girlfriend. The next time we went to her home—she was living with her parents at the time—and she introduced me as her boyfriend, everything changed immediately.”

“Wow,” was all Xavari could say.

“Yeah, I know. Wow,” Emmanuel responded in kind.

“Well, she didn’t put the baby up for adoption and she didn’t have the abortion, so that means she was disowned and disinherited, right?” Xavari shook her head slowly from side to side.

“Yeah, that’s why I said she used to come from money. Her father cut her off totally.”

“What about her mother? What did her mother say?”

“Her mother is just this quiet, submissive woman, who does whatever her husband says. She didn’t help Denise at all. When Denise and I were just friends, she was just as nice to me as her husband. When Denise and I started dating, she turned into stone towards me. She never said anything negative or nasty. She just pretended I didn’t exist. It was like I was a piece of furniture when I would be around her. She just didn’t acknowledge me. She’s actually kind of odd and creepy, now that I think about it. She always has this absent-minded smile on her face no matter what’s going on.” Emmanuel felt his body shiver when he thought of Denise’s mother and her “Stepford Wives” smile.

“Did she lose her job at her uncle’s accounting firm?” Xavari was totally drawn into the story.

“No, her uncle knew me and he liked me. He refused to fire his niece, especially with her being young and pregnant. Denise and her uncle have this major bond, because her uncle was adopted by her father’s parents. When her father disowned her and kicked her out of the house…”

“WHAT?!?!”

“Yeah, he made her leave with only the clothes on her back that very day she made the decision to keep William.” Emmanuel continued to look blankly at the wall.

“This is crazy. This is too crazy.” Xavari was stunned that a father would kick his pregnant daughter out of the house with nothing but the clothes on her back. Xavari’s own father would never have thought to do something so hateful. She tried to put herself in Denise’s shoes and imagine how it must feel to go from wealthy to nothing in the matter of five or ten minutes. She then thought about the life growing in her belly right now, and she instinctively put her hand over her womb.

“Yeah, it was crazy, but she stayed with her uncle and his family until William was born, because her uncle refused to allow her to have a baby without any family around. Shortly after she rested up from having William, she moved out on her own. She refused to take any money from her uncle, and she refused to take any money from me. She asked me to only provide for William, and she would provide for herself. Her uncle tried to give her a raise, and she refused it.”

“No way. What?” Xavari didn’t think she could be any more stunned by this story.

“Yes way. She said she didn’t want any special favors from anyone else in her family. I thought she was crazy, but I guess I can see her point. She wanted to earn everything on her own merit, so no one could take anything else away from her in the future. She didn’t want her uncle holding the raise over her head later. I don’t think he would have, but she said she never thought her father would throw her out of his house pregnant and penniless either. I was like, “Good point.” What’s crazy is her parents own all this real estate all over the place, and it took her forever to find a place that her family wasn’t invested in. She said she wasn’t going to give her father a dime in rent if she could help it. She’s lived in the same 2-bedroom apartment on the east side since William was born.”

“Wait, will is 15 years old.” Xavari realized the curve balls hadn’t stopped coming yet.

“Yeah, I know. There are no bigger apartments available in her building that are on the top floor, and every time she thinks about moving to a different building she finds out her father either owns it or has interest in it.”

“The man is banking like that?”

“Yeah, he’s banking like that. I won’t even tell you how much he offered me to get out of Denise’s life. You’d probably pee on yourself.”

“Why doesn’t she just buy a house,” Xavari asked.

“Uh, I’ve probably told you too much of her business already. She has her reasons for not buying a house.” Emmanuel realized this was the first time he’d shared this much about any of the women he had children with. Something about Xavari always caused him to open up more than he’d ever intended. Denise had asked him about Angela and Romina. Angela had asked him about Denise and Romina, and Romina had asked him about Denise and Angela. He remembered all those conversations being far shorter than this conversation with Xavari, and he hadn’t even gotten to talking about Angela and Romina yet.

“Dang, you’ve told me everything else. You might as well tell me that part, too. Who am I going to tell? No one who knows me knows Denise, so it wouldn’t even come up as a topic of discussion between me and someone else.” Xavari felt like her she did when her favorite show, “Lost,” ended with a big question mark. Her frustration manifested itself on her brow and she wrinkled her forehead.

“Naw, you’ve heard enough about Denise. Do you want me to tell you about Angela and Romina, or are you going to sit there and pout like a little child?” Emmanuel thought Xavari was cute when she pouted. She was just cute, period, when he thought about it. She was the last of his dark-skinned lovelies, and he suppressed a smile when he thought about the baby she carried.

“Yes, I want to know about them, too, but what I really want to know is why you’re so happy about having another baby. You told me all that about Denise. Now tell me why having all these children are so important to you.”

Silence.

“I’m not. If it will make you happy to get married, if that’s what will make you know all this is going to be OK, then let’s do it.” Emmanuel continued to look Xavari square in the face.

“You know I don’t want to get married just because I’m pregnant.” Xavari dropped her eyes to her lap.

“Yeah. I know that. So why are you trying to pick a fight with me over something we both know isn’t an issue?” Emmanuel crooked his fore finger and put it under her chin. He gently raised her face so he could look into her eyes.

“Stop,” she said quietly and leaned back away from his hand. She didn’t want him to touch her so tenderly. She didn’t want to start crying. She wanted to be angry.

“You stop it,” Emmanuel said just as quietly as Xavari. He pulled her to him and she didn’t resist. She put her head on his shoulder and cried.

“I don’t want you to hold me. I want to be mad at you.” Xavari strained and stuttered the words out between her sobs.

“Tell me what you want, Xavari. You know I’ll take care of you and my babies.” Emmanuel rubbed her back with both hands as though he were trying to massage all the tears out of her body. He didn’t like anyone to cry, especially not people he cared about. Tears made him feel helpless.

“That’s just it. I don’t want you taking care of me. Take care of Xavier, yes. Take care of me, no. Don’t you understand? I didn’t want another baby this soon. I wanted to finish college and get a decent job and be married before I had another baby.” Xavari pulled herself away from Emmanuel and looked at him. He looked back at her.

“You can finish school, Zee. You’ll have plenty of help from people who care about. I’m will…”

“UUUUUUHHHHHHH, EMMANUEL! Don’t you get it?!?!” Xavari leaped from the bed and planted herself in front of him.

“What’s wrong? I don’t understand what the problem is.” Emmanuel looked at Xavari with astonishment. He couldn’t figure out why she was so upset.

“I don’t want people helping me! I’m grateful that there are people in my life to help me, but I wouldn’t need their kind of help if I wasn’t too stupid to keep from getting pregnant again, not to mention the first time. THIS IS NOT HOW I PLANNED MY LIFE!” Xavari covered her face with both hands and cried anew. Emmanuel didn’t try to comfort her this time. He realized he couldn’t comfort her.

“What do you want me to do, Xavari? Do you want me to leave?” He’d come with the intention of staying the night with her. He was off the next day, and she’d asked him to come over and watch Xavier while she attended her classes. Somebody needed to be there when the air conditioning guy arrived, so she’d told him it made sense to keep Xavier home so he could spend some time with Emmanuel, since Emmanuel was going to be there to let the HVAC guy into the apartment.

“No, I don’t want you to go. I just don’t want you to be all excited and happy about this. I want you to see this from my perspective. I’m a 19-year-old, black female with limited education and limited possibilities. I know that children are a blessing. I know that in my heart, but my head is telling me that this is just a bad thing.” Xavari sank to the floor in the spot where she was standing and looked up at Emmanuel. She could see he finally got it.

“Wow, Xavari. I guess I didn’t think about what you wanted from all this. I was just happy to know I had another baby on the way. I can’t help but be excited. I love my children, and I’m excited about being a father all over again. I can’t help that. It’s the way I’m wired.” Emmanuel looked down at Xavari.

“Why are you wired that way, Emmanuel? What makes you want all these children?”

Silence.

“Are you going to answer my question, Emmanuel?”

Silence.

Emmanuel looked away from Xavari for the first time, and she saw something painful in his eyes before he dropped his gaze. She hoped she hadn’t gone too far. She wasn’t trying to hurt him. She just wanted to know why he was the way he was. She didn’t know any man like him; not even her own father who’d raised her and her sister after their mother had passed away.

Her father never remarried and never had more children, although he seemed to have doted on his girls, devoting all his time away from work to her and Regina. After her death, their mother’s mother had tried to take Xavari and Regina away from their father by taking him to court for custody. Xavari found out only about a year ago that her father had come close to financial ruin fighting to keep his girls with him. She realized, however, that Emmanuel’s obsession with his children didn’t compare with her father’s love for her and her sister. She realized Emmanuel was driven by something she couldn’t fathom. She sought to soften her inquiry.

“I’m not saying it’s bad to want children, but why are you so happy about having another child. This baby in my belly makes how many?” Xavari continued to look at Emmanuel, who finally raised his eyes back up to hers.

“Uh, fifteen,” Emmanuel stared behind Xavari at the window sill. He realized that he was uncomfortable about not being uncomfortable to admit he was the father of 15 children. The thought made his heart smile, but a quick look back at Xavari made him suppress the grin that would have formed on his face.

“Fifteen children, Emmanuel? Fifteen. My goodness, Emmanuel. Fif. teen. children.” Xavari looked at Emmanuel and shook her head from side-to-side slowly.

“What?” Emmanuel looked at Xavari without an ounce of shame, guilt, remorse or regret.

“Didn’t you ever want to marry any of the women you had children with?”

“Um,” he thought a moment and then said, “I wasn’t opposed to marrying any of them, but it never really came up. It wasn’t something that we talked about. They just wanted to know their children would be taken care of, and I’ve done that.”

“So why would you ask me to marry you?”

“Like I said, I’m not opposed to marriage. You’re the first one to bring it up, actually, as weird as that sounds.”

“Who are these women? Why wouldn’t they want to be married to the father of their children?”

“Xavari? Sweetie? You don’t want to marry me and I’m the father of your children.”

Silence.

“Tell me about them,” Xavari said.

“Who?”

“The other women you have children with. You know who I’m talking about.”

“What do you want to know,” Emmanuel asked her.

“I want to know about them. How old are they? What do they do? Who is whose momma? How did you meet them? All that.”

“Why,” Emmanuel asked.

“I just want to know.”

“Why?”

“Do any of them know about me,” Xavari asked.

“Yes. All of them know about you. You all know about each other. You know I don’t keep secrets.”

“I know,” Xavari said. She remembered that she’d been attracted to him because he was such a paternal guy. He exuded strength and protection, and she’d fallen in love with him because of the way he talked about and doted on his children. It reminded her of her own father. She felt safe with Emmanuel. That’s why she’d let her guard down so easily and ended up pregnant by him…twice. What was it about a man who loved being a daddy that made women so crazy, Xavari wondered to herself?

“Why do you all always get around to asking me this question?” Emmanuel breathed in deep and let out a long sigh.

“Inquiring minds want to know,” Xavari repeated the popular tabloid slogan with a bit of sarcasm in her voice.

“Yeah. I know. Well, Angela has my oldest son, William…”

I didn’t know Michael Jackson personally, but I knew of his impact on the lives of so many people. I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t mourn the man as much as I mourn the genius of the man. He had a God-given talent that he capitalized on to bring joy and hope to millions and millions of people all over the globe, and that’s pure genius to me.

I pray for his children and the rest of his family.

Copyright© Faydra D. Fields. All rights reserved.

My legacy may not manifest in a child who’s biologically mine,
but I can nurture and grow my gifts and leave that legacy to shine.

I have other mothers whose wombs I didn’t fill,
so not being someone’s mother isn’t necessarily a done deal.

I know that I’m blessed both coming and going,
 and when I’ve finished grieving that’s the face I’ll be showing.

Copyright© 2009, Faydra D. Fields. All rights reserved.

This is the poem that came to my heart yesterday when the doctor told me that I am more than likely never going to be able to have children. I was very upset and sad, to say the least. However, that is his report. God may have another. We’ll see. If the reports happen to be the same, “Hallelujah, anyhow.”

“Yeah. My scalp is so sore. She pulls harder than she has to, I think.” Xavari used the flat of your palm to pat the top of her head vigorously. She didn’t want to scratch her scalp, so this was the only way to relieve the itching sensation. She felt gingerly around the edges of her hair and the tension bumps were evident to her touch. She was lost in thought, trying to figure out how she was going to sleep without putting the back of her head on her pillow, when Emmanuel’s voice startled her.

“You ready to talk to me?” He felt her jump, but he didn’t turn to face her.

“Huh?” Xavari knew that he knew she’d heard him, but she was trying to get her thoughts together. She still didn’t know if he’d heard just the last sentence of her conversation with her sister or more. She didn’t want to give away too much, but she also didn’t want to get caught lying. Emmanuel hated to be lied to.

“Xavari. Please. You heard me.” Emmanuel rolled over onto his back only to realize that Xavari wasn’t looking at him.

“I thought you were going to call before you stopped by.” Xavari kept her back to Emmanuel and rubbed her index finger between the cornrows feeling for more bumps. She was debating whether to put alcohol on her scalp, but she couldn’t stand the thought of her head being on fire. Emmanuel would usually put the alcohol on for her and blow on her scalp to cool it off as he dabbed between each braid. She wasn’t sure she could ask him to do that tonight.

“Xavari. Look at me.” Emmanuel waited for what seemed an eternity for Xavari to turn around on the bed and look at him. Finally, she reluctantly did so.

“What, Emmanuel?” Xavari kept feeling her scalp. She looked at Emmanuel briefly and then lowered her eyes.

“Look at me.” Emmanuel touched her leg. Xavari felt the tears forming in her eyes.

“What?” She couldn’t force her eyes to meet his.

“Hey,” he said as he moved slowly over to her and put his head in her lap so she had to look at his face.

“What, Emmanuel?” Xavari turned her face to the other side, so she was now looking at the top of Emmanuel’s scalp. A tear escaped her chin and dropped on the top of his head.

“Zee, what’s wrong with you?” Emmanuel didn’t have anger in his tone. His words dripped with concern.

“Nothing. My scalp hurts.” Xavari knew it was a lame excuse, but she was grasping at straws. Why didn’t she want him to know about the pregnancy? She kept asking herself that. She knew he wouldn’t be disappointed. She knew he was be overjoyed. That was it. That’s why she didn’t want him to know. He wouldn’t see this as a problem for her. He’d see it as a blessing, pure and simple. She knew he wanted more children. She just didn’t want to be the one to give him another child so soon after having Xavier. The thought of labor made her stomach churn.

Xavari was embarrassed to admit that Xavier and the new baby would only be about eleven months apart in age. Regina was right. Her body hadn’t bounced back from the difficulties of her first birth. She’d gotten her figure back without a problem, but the delivery had left her with a hernia and several months of incontinence. The incontinence she’d overcome with regular exercises, but the hernia flared up every now and then. Her OB/GYN had given her strict instructions to allow her body time to heal before she decided to have another baby, and Xavari had sat right in the examining room and vehemently protested that she would not find herself pregnant again any time soon. Now here she was. Pregnant again. Two times during her 19th year of life. She could kick herself for being so stupid.

“You’re crying for nothing?” Emmanuel was calm. He knew she’d talk in her own time. He just rested his head in her lap and waited.

“I’m just tired and my scalp hurts and…”

“Xavari, how many children do I have?” Emmanuel kept his voice even. Xavari didn’t say anything. She just closed her eyes.

“Xavari, you do know how many times I’ve been around a pregnant woman, right?” Emmanuel spoke as evenly and gently as he could. Xavari still said nothing.

“Baby, you do realize I know you’ve missed two periods, right?” Emmanuel felt Xavari’s body begin to shake. He didn’t hear her crying, but he felt her tears falling onto the top of his head.

“This is not the worst thing that can happen to you, Zee. You act like it’s the end of the world. Why didn’t you want to tell me?” Emmanuel finally lifted his head out of Xavari’s lap and sat beside her. He put his arm around her and leaned her head on his shoulder. She cried silently.

“Talk to me, Zee. I know you had a hard time with Xavier, but I was there for you then, and I’ll be here for you this time. Children are a blessing from God. Don’t you know there are women who’d kill to have a baby, and here you are about to have your second?” Emmanuel felt Xavari’s body stiffen. She raised her head off his shoulder and finally looked him in the face with red, tear-stained eyes.

“You think I should be happy about this? You think I should be thanking God for this?” She didn’t raise her voice, but Emmanuel could hear the anger behind her words.

“I can’t tell you how to feel about this. I’m just trying to put things in perspective for you.” Emmanuel looked down at his hands which were crossed in his lap.

“I have nothing, Emmanuel. I don’t have a decent job, I don’t have a decent place to live and Regina is certain I’m going to drop out of college because I can’t handle having this baby and the one in the other room.” Xavari fought to keep the tears from flowing again.

“Regina doesn’t know what’s going to happen. Why are you letting her fill your head with negativity? I bet she tried to get you to have an abortion, didn’t she?” Emmanuel waited for Xavari to tell him he was wrong, but he’d been around Regina enough to know what she thought and how she thought. It hadn’t taken long to discern the negative spirit that surrounded her. He didn’t exactly dislike Regina, but there was something about her that always rubbed him the wrong way. She was a pessimist about everything, and she was the big sister who became a mother to Xavari when their mother died of breast cancer, so her influence over Xavari was indelible. He was pleasant to Regina for Xavari’s sake, but he didn’t like Regina hanging around too much. Xavari avoided the question all together.

“It’s probably going to happen just like Gina says. I’ll be too tired from dealing with Xavier and then I’ll just quit school, because I’ll be tired from carrying around a big belly.” She wanted Emmanuel to join her pity party.

“I can help you with Xavier. I can help you with school. If work becomes too much, you can quit.” Emmanuel really didn’t see the problem. Xavari had all the support she needed. Between him, Regina, their father and his parents, she didn’t have to make this sound so horrible.

“What makes you think I want to quit my job? I can’t be asking everybody for hand-outs. I have to work.” Xavari knew she was simply being argumentative, but she wanted to get a rise out of Emmanuel. He was always too calm and collected.

“You can work if you want to work, Zee. I’m just saying you don’t have to work. If you want to concentrate on Xavier and school, you can do that. You know I’ll help you.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re Mr. Big Bucks. You can take care of yourself, all your other kids, mine and me, too, huh?” Xavari’s tone was getting nastier.

“Uh, yeah. When you couldn’t work after you had Xavier, how did your bills get paid? Who took care of Xavier when you couldn’t pick him up? Who cleaned your apartment, washed your clothes, bought your groceries, cooked your food, bathed you when you hurt too badly to do it yours…”

“SHUT UP, EMMANUEL! Just shut up! Please!” Xavari clasped her hands over her ears. She couldn’t stand to hear anymore. He had done all those things and more, and she felt like she’d forever be in his debt. Right now, however, she didn’t want to be miserable by herself. She wanted to drag him along with her.

“I won’t be so lucky like Regina. No one’s going to want to marry me. You don’t even want to marry me. You don’t want to marry any of the women you have children with.” Xavari was trying to draw blood. She wanted to make Emmanuel feel as bad as she was feeling right now. Emmanuel wasn’t biting. He looked her square in the eyes.

“OK. Let’s get married. You want to wait until the baby’s born or you want to do it now?”

———-

This is Installment #10 of “The Pride.” If you missed the beginning, go to “The Pride: From the Beginning” to start at the first installment.

———-

Copyright© 2009, Faydra D. Fields, All rights reserved.

“That word is history, Momma.” Quantavianna had been helping her mother fill out job applications and other forms since she could read and write, which seemed like from the time she was born. Without her mother noticing, Quantavianna looked at Quantenerra and rolled her eyes skyward. Quantenerra mimmicked her sister and they smiled at one another.

“What does this sentence say?” Romina pointed to the sentence where history appeared. Quantavianna leaned over again and looked at the sentence.

“It says ‘Please include your job history for the last 10 years,’ Momma.” Quantavianna tried not to show her irritation. She preferred when Romina didn’t have paperwork to fill out, because she could get her homework done more quickly and go outside and play.

The kitchen was silent while Romina finished filling out the application. Quantavianna was bracing herself for more questions. Quantenerra was working on her math homework and Quantarius and Quantevisha, were practicing writing their names. Romina leaned to her right to look at the twins’ papers.

“You all are doing really good.” All her children had had a hard time learning to write their names. Romina hadn’t considered this when she’d given them all such long names. She just liked the fact the names were unique and started with “Qu.” She’d always liked the sound that “q” and “u” made when you put them together. The twins were four, and she insisted that they start learning to write their names. She wanted to make sure they were able to it flawlessly by the time they started kindergarden. Each day, before she started her homework, it was Quantenerra’s job to neatly print Quantarius’ and Quantevisha’s names on several sheets of paper, so the twins could practice writing and spelling their names.

The twins were both able to recognize every letter of the alphabet, even though Romina had refused to allow them to learn the alphabet song. She hated that song. She’d learned it, and it hadn’t helped her to spell or read well. It was a crutch, she thought. Even as an adult, she had to sometimes sing it to herself to remember a letter, but she never told anyone she did it that. With all her children, Romina had gotten flashcards, mixed them up and made her children learn their letters out of order. She was confident that when they saw a letter they actually knew what it was, as opposed to being about to remember them in the order of a song. Already, her twins were reading very simple books, and that pleased Romina. She’d always struggled with reading, spelling and even math in school, which is why she ended up in the slow classes.

“Quantavianna, look over this for me.” Romina handed her oldest child the job application and got up from the table to start dinner.

“Momma, this isn’t our phone number. You have the last two numbers backwards.” Quantavianna erased the phone number and wrote it over in much neater penmanship than Romina. This was how Quantavianna checked her mother’s forms. She convinced Romina to fill everything out in pencil, and then Quantavianna would erase what her mother wrote and fix all her many mistakes. Most days, Quantavianna just fixed the mistakes without pointing them out to her mother, but when she was feeling especially irritated Quantavianna made mention of some of the mistakes Romina made over and over again on all her paperwork. Quantavianna was feeling a little, extra irritated today.

“OK, just fix it, Quantavianna, and get back to your homework.” Romina tried not to sound annoyed. She hated having to ask her children to help her with reading and correcting her forms, bills and mail. Usually, Emmanuel helped her, but she wasn’t sure when she’d see him this week, and she wanted to try to find a better-paying job without him knowing about it.

“Did you mean to make yourself 52 years old?” Quantavianna tried to make her question sound like an innocent inquiry.

“No, Quantavianna,” Romina turned toward Quantavianna and slammed her open hand onto her hip. Quantavianna bowed her head as Romina stared hard at her.

“Sorry,” Quantavianna said quietly and finished erasing and rewriting the incorrect information on the job application. Quantavianna knew her mother’s information by memory now. She’d helped her with so many of these forms, it was just second-nature to her now.

“No, I’m sorry, sweetie,” Romina exhaled.

‘Momma, can I ask you a question?” Quantavianna walked over to her mother with the corrected application.

“Of course. Ask me anything.” Romina accepted the application from Quantavianna and pulled her into a close one-arm hug as she held the application in her other hand and read the changes.

“Can you really type 50 words a minute?” Quantavianna rested her head on her mother’s stomach.

“Uh, no,” Romina admitted embarrassed to have to confess this in front of all her children.

“Can you type at all, Momma?” Quantavianna knew she was treading on thin ice, but she felt compelled to press the issue. When her mother went out on job interviews that she was obviously not qualified for, she would come home in a bad mood and Quantavianna hated to live through the days of tears and depression.

“You see me type at the computer everyday. Why would you ask me if I can type?” Romina was trying very hard not to allow her temper to rise. She didn’t like the questions, but she tried to keep the channels of communication open, as well. She wanted to be the first person in her children’s lives to know what was going on in their minds. She didn’t want to have to hear it from a teacher or even their father. She wanted to be approachable. Her parents had not been approachable.

“Momma, typing on the computer to surf the web and typing for a job ain’t the same, I don’t think.” Quantavianna put her arms around her mother and kept her head on Romina’s stomach.

“What did I tell you about saying ain’t?” Romina was hoping to get the attention off herself.

“Sorry, Momma.”

“What did I tell you about always saying ‘sorry’?” Romina hated when her children used that word. It was the word her father had used to describe her when she was growing up.

“I apologize, Momma.”

“That’s better,” Romina said and kissed Quantavianna’s forehead.

“Why are you trying to change jobs, anyway, Momma?” Quantenerra finished the last of her math homework and joined the conversation from her seat at the table. The twins were talking quietly amongst themselves in a language no one else could understand. It must have been about their writing, because they kept pointing to each other’s papers.

“I need more money. Y’all are getting bigger and so are the bills. When the twins start school next year, they’re going to need all those school supplies, lunchboxes, more clothes and everything. I need a better job.” Romina still had one arm around Quantavianna, but she put the application down on the counter next to her and wrapped her other arm around her oldest child.

“They want you to type,” Quantenerra asked.

“It’s a receptionist job, so I’ll have to type.”

“Momma,” Quantavianna began, “that application says you have to take a typing test. Are you going to be able to pass it?”

“I’m going to try.”

“How are you going to be able to keep your letters straight? You know you have trouble with mixing up your letters sometimes, Momma.” Quantavianna looked up at Romina. Romina looked down into Quantavianna’s face. Romina was silent for a long time. She gently pulled Quantavianna’s arms from around her and gestured for her daughter to go back to the kitchen table. No one spoke and even the twins stopped their chatter as they realized the tension in the room had grown thick. Romina changed the subject.

“Quantenerra, I’m coming to your school this week to volunteer, OK?” Romina smiled big, thinking this was something to which Quantenerra looked forward. She saw the quick eye-to-eye exchange between Quantavianna and Quantenerra and instinctively knew she was wrong.

“Uh, I thought you were trying to get a new job,” Quantenerra said without looking at Romina. Romina could hear the anxiety in Quantenerra’s voice.

“I am,” Romina started slowing, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t have time to get involved in your school activities. Hey. Look at me.” Quantenerra reluctantly raised her eyes to her mother’s face.

“Yes, Mommy.” Quantenerra forced herself not to look away from Romina. Romina stared at her middle child. She knew why Quantenerra didn’t want her to volunteer in her class. Romina had heard the children snickering behind her back when she couldn’t help them with what seemed to be simple words and simple math problems. Romina was the only mother who volunteered but never read a storybook to the class.

Romina remembered the humiliation of trying to read a book to Quantavianna’s first-grade class a few years ago, and she let all her children’s teachers’ know that she’d be happy to volunteer her time but she would not be reading during storybook hour. It was a small school, and all the teachers were aware of why Romina didn’t want to read. They’d all accepted all the other help Romina offered and never pressed the issue about storybook hour.

The one thing her children’s classmates and teachers did love about her visits were the goodies she brought with her. Romina may not have been able to read or do math well, but she could cook any mother in her children’s school under the table. She didn’t use recipes. She just had a talent for cooking the most delectable dishes. This was the one class in high schol she had excelled in once she convinced the teacher to allow her to create her dishes without having to rely on recipes.

“If I can’t make it this week, you promise not to be dissappointed?” Romina watched Quantenerra surpress a smile.

“Yes, Mommy. I promise.” Quantenerra wondered if the relief showed on her face.

“Well, I’ll let you know. I might be really busy.” Romina turned away from her children and started pulling cans of vegetables from the cupboard. She fought back her tears by taking deep breaths. She didn’t want her oldest girls to know she knew they were embarrassed by her. At that moment, the doorbell rang, and Romina motioned for her children to stay seated and walked past them to the front door.

She looked through the peephole, but she didn’t recognize the lady standing on the other side. She was dark-brown, very pretty and alone. Romina couldn’t understand why she wasn’t sure she should open the door. The woman didn’t look threatening. She looked young.

“Yes, who is at?” Romina spoke into the door with her eye still set closely to the peephole.

“I’m looking for Romina Morgan, please.” The lovely woman on the other side of the door stepped back a bit, realizing that she was probably being watched through the peephole. She smiled into the glass eye, and Romina found herself smiling a bit, too.

“And, you are?” Romina spoke into the door again.

“My name is Xavari. Forgive me for just showing up to your house like this, but when I called your number it was disconnected. We have a mutual friend.”

“Who,” Romina asked puzzled, thinking there wasn’t anyone they could know in common.

“Um. Emmanuel Freemont.” Xavari dropped her gaze as she said the name.

Romina stepped back from the door, unlatched the chain and opened it. She looked at the young lady and smiled.

“Sorry to bother you? Is this is bad time?” Xavari shifted uncomfortably but tried to pretend like it was the most natural thing for her to be knocking on a stranger’s door.

“You said you know Emmanuel,” Romina asked her.

“Yes,” Xavari said. Romina continued to smile warmly at her and Romina’s next words stunned Xavari.

“Is he the father of that baby in your belly?”

———-

This is Installment #9 of “The Pride.” If you missed the beginning, go to “The Pride: From the Beginning” to start at the first installment.

———-

Copyright© 2009, Faydra D. Fields, All rights reserved.

“Yes, son. I can agree to that.” Denise removed her fingers from William’s knee and sat back in her seat.

On the outside, it seemed that nothing had changed in her demeanor. Inside, Denise’s mind and heart immediately began to race. What news was William bringing to her? He’d been withdrawn and moody for about three months. When she’d mentioned this to Emmanuel, he’d laughed it off and said, “He’s probably smelling himself. You know how boys get at a certain age. He’s just a jumble of raging hormones, and some little girl probably has his nose wide open. You won’t let him date for another year, something I told you I don’t agree with, so he’s probably just unhappy about being treated like a baby.” Denise had taken Emmanuel’s explanation and not pressed the issue, but she wondered now if William had been sneaking around with some girl behind her back and had an accident. Denise thought to herself, “If he tells me anything other than I’m about to be a grandmother, I think I can handle it.”

“Like I said earlier, I did feel badly about walking in on Naomi in the bathroom. I just wasn’t thinking, and I opened the door before I thought.” William realized he’d said “thinking” and “thought” back-to-back. He tried to ignore the redundancy, but it kept playing over and over in his head. He was hoping his mother didn’t get hung up on that and stop listening to him. She was relentless about good grammar. He needed to set his mother up perfectly to drive home his points.

“William, I know you didn’t walk in on your sister on purpose, but she’s very self-conscious about her body right now. That’s the only reason she’s so upset with you about it. I was going to make her apologize for bumping you with her shoulder like that, but I think you earned it a little bit, beloved.” Denise spoke to her son warmly. She tried hard to block out the redundant sentence he’d just spoken to her. She knew if she nit-picked his grammar right now, he’d just clam up and go to his room. She wanted to hear what he had to say, because something in the pit of her stomach told her she wasn’t going to be happy when he was done talking.

“How do you think I feel, Mother? I made her cry so hard. She was so humiliated. I wish I could take it all back, but I really had to “go.” Mother, we’re outgrowing this place.” William still kept his eyes on his hands.

“I’m doing the best I can, beloved.” Denise sensed that this conversation was going in a direction she wasn’t interested in going, but she just let it ride.

“Yes, Mother. I know. I think you’re doing a fantastic job. It’s just that I feel like a burden to you.” William finally looked into his mother’s face. He didn’t look into her eyes, though. He knew if they made eye contact, she’d see right through him. He focused on a point between her upper lip and nose.

“A burden, William? When have I ever made you feel like a burden?” Denise thought to herself, “What the hell is he up to?”

“Yes, Mother. You’re out there working so hard to support the family, trying to make up for Dad’s inability to help more, and I’m growing into manhood and unable to get a job and help out financially.” William dropped his eyes again, feigning shame. He’d chosen the financial point to try to get his mother to say a phrase that was key to getting him to his next point. If he’d paid close enough attention to the way his father had handled Denise, and if he knew anything about his mother, the financial angle would net him the reward he was looking for.

“William, have I ever asked you to do anything other than get excellent grades and help Naomi with the little ones? Do you really think I expect you to step up and be the man of the house?” Denise looked at the top of her son’s head, because that was all he would show her. William heard bells and whistles going off in his head. She’d said the perfect phrase: man of the house.

“That’s the thing, Mother. I want to be a good man, a strong man, and you can’t teach me that. I need my father to teach me that.”

“OUT OF THE QUESTION, WILLIAM!’ Denise popped from her chair  and started pacing when she realized where he was going with the conversation. She couldn’t contain herself, even though she’d given William her word that she’d hear him out. She thought she would come unglued mentally if she heard him make the statement she knew was on his mind.

“Mother, please sit down. You agreed to hear me out before you gave your comments.” William remained cool and calm, like he’d seen his father do when dealing with Denise.

“No, William, no. The answer is no.” Denise kept pacing, but she lowered her voice, even though it had an anxious edge.

“Mother,” William said calmly, “you haven’t even given me a chance to say what I want to…”

“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY, WILLIAM! I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT TO SAY! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS, SON, PLEASE! If you say it, I…please, son…please don’t go there.” Denise continued to pace and now she was hugging herself, arms wrapped so tightly under her breasts William thought she might crack a rib.

“Mother, please. I’m not trying to hurt you. I love you. You’ve done such a good job raising me to this point, but…”

“No, William, please don’t do this.” Denise couldn’t hold it together anymore. She burst into tears and William rushed to his mother. As angry as she was with him at that moment, and as much as she didn’t want him to touch her, she let herself sink into her oldest child’s arms. He was tall and broad like his father but with a slighter build than Emmanuel. She’d dreaded this day since he was born. She knew it would come, but she never prepared herself for it.

Denise thought that right now, in this moment, it was a blessing and a curse to have children who were well-educated and who knew how to use reason and logic to communicate. It was a blessing and a curse to have fostered open communication with her children all these years and have them be comfortable enough with her objectivity that they came to her about anything and everything. Denise had several years before lost the ability to say “because I said so” to William and Naomi, because she had encouraged them to respectfully question her directives and share their points of view and expect to be taken seriously and offered substantive information. It was all back firing on Denise right now.

“William, I’m going to let you say what you have to say, but I’m going to tell you this, so you’re very clear.” Denise was still leaning into her son.

“Yes, Mother. I’m listening.”

“Son, this is a line you cannot cross back over. You can never take back the words you’re about to speak to me in the next few seconds. Please, son, please think very hard about whether this is a line you want to cross. I’m not saying it’ll change my love for you, but think about how deep a wound this is going to leave on our relationship if you must make this point.” Denise backed away from William, still hugging herself, and looked up into his face. William finally looked into his mother’s eyes, and he saw the pain he was causing her. He did think for about three seconds and plowed ahead.

“I’d like to go live with my father,” he said in a rush of words. He didn’t notice a change in his mother’s face, but he saw something in her eyes raze. He felt himself panicking inside, but his face didn’t betray him. He looked steadily at his mother. He had to maintain his resolve. He braced himself for his mother’s next wave of tears, but they never came.

“You may not go live with your father.” Denise spoke crisply and with a sense of finality. She stepped further back from William, dropped her arms to her side and squared her shoulders. She matched her son’s gaze.

“Mother,” William began slowly, “with all the respect that is due you, and I concede you are owed and have all my respect, you can’t stop me from discussing this matter with my Dad.” William watched his mother’s eyes begin to blaze. His resolve was weakening by the moment. Denise was determined not to fall apart again. She knew William was right. She couldn’t stop him from going to Emmanuel with his request, and she couldn’t really stop William from moving out, but she just didn’t want to see her baby go. She hurt so badly, but she couldn’t make her case based on emotion. She couldn’t guilt him into staying. She knew he would only come to resent her and become more and more withdrawn and start taking it out on his brother an sisters.

They stood in silence looking at one another; both determined not to flinch first. They both jumped when they heard the phone ring. Neither moved to get it. After four rings, the phone went silent. They both assumed the call went to voicemail. A few seconds later, the door to Naomi’s room opened, and she saw her mother and brother in their dueling stances. Naomi almost retreated back into the room and closed the door, but the caller on the other end of the phone had been insistent.

“Excuse me,” Naomi said.

“Yes, beloved,” Denise responded very calmly and without taking her eyes off William. William continued to face down his mother, also.

“Mother, there’s a lady on the phone who insists on talking with you. I told her you were busy, but she said she must speak with you.” Naomi, standing as close to her door as possible holding the cordless phone unit, felt akward relaying the information in the midst of this showdown, neither her mother or brother willing to concede anything to each other.

“Ask who it is, Naomi,” Denise said still staring at William who was still staring at her. Denise saw that William’s brow was starting to moisten. She smiled inwardly.

“May I ask who’s calling, please?” Naomi spoke into the receiver. After asking the question, Naomi finally realized she had been silent too long, because it prompted Denise to ask her about the caller.

“Who is it, Naomi?” Denise and William were still eye-to-eye.

“Mother, she says you don’t know her, but she’s a friend of Dad’s.” Naomi rocked back and forth from her heels to her toes. She had a feeling this wasn’t good. This caused Denise to break her focal point.

“Excuse me. Did she give you a name?” Denise looked at Naomi.

“Za…Za…,” Naomi put the phone back to her ear and mouth to ask the woman to repeat her name. “She says her name’s Zavari, Mother, and she’s a friend of Dad’s.” Naomi realized her mother was now staring at her with the same gaze she had had trained on William; almost like she couldn’t believe this was her life. Without looking away from Naomi, Denise spoke.

“William, go to your room, and we’ll finish this conversation when I’m done with this call. Naomi, hang up the phone when I pick up in the kitchen.” Denise looked back and William who hadn’t moved. She gave him her best “you better do what I tell you to do and do it now” glare. After a few moments, he complied.

Once William was moving off toward his room, Denise moved toward the phone in the kitchen. She picked up the cordless phone unit and held it to her ear and mouth for a few seconds.

“Hang up the phone, Naomi.” Denise heard Naomi click off the line.

“Good night, Mother,” Naomi said quietly, with obvious disappointment in her voice, as she disappeared back into her room. Denise looked at the clock and realized it wasn’t Naomi’s bedtime yet. Her daughter knew her well enough to know that Denise wasn’t going to be in the mood for any more talking after this phone conversation was over.

“Yes, this is Denise. Zavari, is it? How may I help you?”

———-

This is Installment #8 of “The Pride.” If you missed the beginning, go to “The Pride: From the Beginning” to start at the first installment.

———-

Copyright© 2009, Faydra D. Fields, All rights reserved.

“Nothing,” Naomi said hoarsely. She was wiping down the glasstop dining area table and trying to avert her face from her mother. Naomi had cried so much and so hard before and during her conversation with William earlier that day that the openings of her eyes were just slits surrounded by puffiness. She’d tried hot and cold compresses to make the swelling go down, but nothing helped. Naomi was hoping her mother would come home much later and she would be in bed before she would have to answer questions.

“Naomi. Really. It’s been a long day. I know you better than you know yourself. Why have you been crying?” Denise placed her purse and keys on the table by the door and sat her briefcase in front of the table. She turned when she heard heavy feet padding into the room.

“Naomi, I said I was sorry. Mother, I told her I was sorry. I embarrassed her. I walked in on her in the bathroom.” William winked at his sister with the eye Denise couldn’t see. The front of his shirt, hands and arms were wet. He was bathing Benjamin and Sarah, and he’d rushed out of the bathroom when he heard Denise questioning Naomi. Naomi was a horrible liar, and he was certain Denise would lose her mind if Naomi told the truth. He had hurried to his sister’s rescue.

“William, we’ve talked about this. When the bathroom door is closed, you knock.” Denise put her hands on her hips and looked sternly at her son.

“Yes, Mother. I know. I wasn’t thinking. I apologized to her, like, 100 times. That’s one of the problems with having five people in a two-bedroom apartment with one bathroom,” William said as he threw his hands in the air in mock frustration. Naomi wondered why he felt it necessary to talk about the size of the apartment, but she had a sneaking suspicion William had been planning this ruse to further his own agenda. Naomi filed her feelings about his statement away in her mental rolodex. Denise turned her attention back to Naomi.

“What did William walk in on you doing in the bathroom that would get you so upset that you’d cry so hard that your eyes are almost swollen shut?” Denise sat in one of the chairs at the dining area table and began removing her sling-back pumps.

“I…I.” Naomi couldn’t think of a plausible lie. William came to her rescue again.

“She had on one of your bras and was putting tissue in it,” William blurted. Naomi’s eyes grew huge and she looked at her brother with astonishment. Her mouth agape, she couldn’t even fathom how to respond to that.

“WHAT?!?!” Denise shrieked with wide-eyed amusement. She threw her head back and laughed like it was going out of style. Naomi crossed her arms over her flat chest and pretended to be totally insulted. William joined in the laughter. Naomi’s radar was working overtime now.

“I tried to tell her it was nothing to be embarrassed about, but she cried and cried.” William wiped his hands on the front of his shirt.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry to laugh at you,” Denise said between hearty chuckles, “but it’s only funny because I remember doing the same thing with my mother’s bra. Come here.” Denise reached out her arm and extended a hand to Naomi. Naomi came around the table and took Denise’s hand. William went back into the bathroom to finish bathing the little ones.

“Mother, I can’t believe you were ever as flat as me when you were my age. I’m never going to have breasts and hips. All my friends are developed and I still look like a boy.” Naomi sat in her mother’s lap, and Denise put her arms around Naomi’s thin waist.

“Sweetheart, my breasts and hips didn’t start developing until I was in my second year of college. I was a late bloomer, and you take after me.” Denise rested her head on Naomi’s back as she talked lovingly with her daughter. For Naomi, William’s fib had been a bonus. She got to sit with her mother and talk about girl stuff. Naomi knew that as soon as the little ones were bathed, dried, powdered, greased and clothed in their pajamas, they’d be competing with her for Denise’s attention.

No sooner had Naomi finished the thought than her naked little brother and sister bounded out of the bathroom with William bringing up the rear.

“Come back here, you two!” William was holding a towel and trying to catch Benjamin and Sarah before they left a trail of wet footsteps from the bathroom to the dining area. He wasn’t fast enough.

“Mother! Mother!” Benjamin and Sarah reached Denise and Naomi before William could get past the coffee table and over to the dining area table. Denise opened the arms she had around Naomi and hugged all three of the children at the same time.

“My mushy-wet, little munchkins,” Denise exclaimed and flashed a dazzling smile at Benjamin and Sarah. Naomi was forced to smile, as well. Even though she wanted her mother to herself, she understood how much her little brother and sister missed Denise, too. Besides, Benjamin and Sarah would be going to bed soon and Naomi and William would have a couple of hours before their bedtime, and they could spend some time with Denise then, if she wasn’t too tired and/or didn’t have too much work. William actually demanded much less of Denise’s time these days, so there was a good chance Naomi would have Denise alone again and they could finish their discussion. Naomi wanted to talk to her mother about getting a training bra.

“How was your day, Mother?” William dried the little ones off right in the dining area. He knew it was fruitless to try to get them back in the bathroom, plus it was nice for them to all be there in the same space. His mother was smiling, Naomi was feeling special sitting on Denise’s lap, and the little ones were still and letting him dry them off. They all were quiet waiting for their mother to speak. Naomi didn’t look around at her. She trained her eyes on William, who purposely avoided her stare. She knew he was up to something. She couldn’t forget what she’d seen in that letter on his desk.

“Oh, son. It was a busy and long day. I think I have the most challenging boss on the planet.” Denise was enjoying having her children all around her. She especially liked the fact that she’d gotten home early enough for the little ones’ bath night. That meant that William wouldn’t be hiding in his room, because it was his responsibility to make sure Benjamin and Sarah were bathed every other night, because Naomi was busy with the rest of the household responsibilities.

“Mother, Naomi is too bossy,” Sarah said through the towel that William had placed over here head to dry her hair.

“Why do you say so, my beloved?” Denise furrowed her brow and feigned sincere concern. She knew exactly what Sarah was going to say.

“She makes us do homework and put away our toys and eat yucky vegetables. Right, Benjamin?” Sarah wiggled her head out of the towel and looked at Benjamin. Benjamin, always so shy and quiet looked at Sarah, then Naomi, then his mother and back to Sarah.

“The vegetables were good tonight,” he said in a quiet voice.

“See, Mother. Benjamin thinks she’s too bossy, too,” Sarah asserted as she put her hands on what would be hips one day. Denise stifled a laugh, and put on her most serious face.

“Sarah, I’m sorry you think Naomi is too bossy, but she’s only telling you to do what I told her to tell you to do. Are you doing what Naomi tells you to do?” Denise watched Sarah nod her head up and down.

“Mother, Sarah always does what I ask her to do. She’s a very good girl,” Naomi chimed in, leaving off the fact that  Sarah complained every step of the way. Naomi knew her mother already knew that part.

When Naomi had brought this complaint to Denise before, she had asked Naomi to be extremely patient with Sarah. Denise explained to Naomi that Sarah had a different personality than her other three children. Denise didn’t want Naomi to try to break Sarah’s spirits, but she did want Naomi to find a way to get Sarah to comply. Her children had to work together. They had to help Denise raise them. That was all there was to it. She didn’t like leaving her older children in charge and responsible for the little ones, but someone had to make up the income that their father just wasn’t able to provide.

As her children’s father, Emmanuel gave all he could and all the time. Even as generous as he was with his money and time, he was spread thin with taking care of his other children, as well. Denise couldn’t fault him for his career choice either. He’d taken a lower-paying job with his company that not only allowed him to meet his financial obligations to all his children, but it also afforded him the ability to make his own hours so he could attend his children’s activities and bear some of the carpooling responsibilities.

“It’s bedtime, munchkins.” Denise kissed both Benjamin and Sarah, who pouted and whined, but they obeyed and followed William out of the dining area to the back of the apartment.

“Mother, Sarah is becoming more and more difficult. Benjamin does everything without complaining, but Sarah is really challenging me more and more.” Naomi got up from her mother’s lap and sat in the chair next to her.

“I know, my beloved, I know. I just need you to continue to be patient with her. I know it isn’t easy, especially when even William does what you say, but Sarah’s a…”

“different personality. Yes, Mother, I know.” Naomi finished Denise’s sentence but not in a disrespectful way. They both smiled.

“You’re going to have to deal with all types of people, Naomi. It doesn’t hurt to start practicing how to get along with all those different personalities now. Look at it this way. If you can keep Sarah in line, you should be able to keep anyone else in line. It’s the people who know you well that give you the hardest time when you’re in charge. Remember that part in the Bible where Jesus goes back to preach in his hometown? I mean, He was Jesus, the Son of God, the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords…”

“Yes, Mother,” Naomi said with a giggle, “I get your point.” Naomi and Denise exchanged more warms smiles. They both turned to look at him when William came back in the room.

“Mi-Mi, the little ones want you to read them a story,” William said to his sister without meeting her eyes. Naomi didn’t move.

“I’m talking with Mother. Can you read them a story?” Naomi didn’t want William to talk with Denise. William still wouldn’t look at Naomi. Instead, he looked at Denise.

“Mother, I’d like to run something by you that I want to talk with Dad about. I’d like to have your opinion first, if you don’t mind.” William again purposely avoided Naomi’s stare. Naomi’s heartbeat quickened as she realized how he’d used her to set up this talk with their mother.

“Go on, Naomi. Read to the little ones for me while I talk to ‘the man’ here.” Denise was happy to be included in her son’s life about anything these days. In recent months he’d grown distant and withdrawn. The fact that he was asking her advice on anything made her want to give him her full attention.

Naomi stood up and walked toward William who walked toward her. As they met to change places, Naomi bumped him hard with her shoulder. William didn’t even break stride, nor did he once look at Naomi. When Naomi got to her bedroom door, where she knew Benjamin and Sarah would be waiting, she looked over her shoulder and saw William sitting in the seat that she’d just vacated. Their mother was still smiling.

“Tell me something good, my beloved.” Denise touched her son’s knee and smiled lovingly at him.

As she closed the door to her room, Naomi heard William clearing his throat.

“I’d like to…,” William was saying as Naomi closed the door.

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This is Installment #7 of “The Pride.” If you missed the beginning, go to “The Pride: From the Beginning” to start at the first installment.

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Copyright© 2009, Faydra D. Fields, All rights reserved.