Dario
Chanel and I walked into Bakesale Betty’s on Telegraph, not too far from the hospital, to grab food for us and Rai. This place had to have the best chicken sandwiches I’d ever tasted in my life—and I’d had some really good chicken. Their hours of operation were from 11:00AM-2:00PM, Tuesday-Saturday, with a suggestion that you call your order in, so that should say something about just how good they were. I made sure that as soon as they opened, I was on the line placing our orders for buttermilk fried chicken and coleslaw sandwiches with kettle chips.
“It smells good in this place,” Chanel said as soon as we walked in the door. She turned to me and smiled big after wrapping her arms around me for a hug. “Got my mouth watering, smelling like my Mama’s kitchen and thangs.”
I smiled and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. “I haven’t seen you smile in so long. It’s good to have those bright eyes back,” I told her. “I don’t ever want to see that look of sorrow in there anymore and God help the soul that’s ever bold enough to take you there.”
She held on tighter. “I have everything to be happy about now. All the sad days are behind me . . . behind us. Only bright days to look forward to, Champ.”
“For sure that.”
“Yep. And guess what? I have something really good to share with you,” she confessed after we’d gotten our food and were headed back to the car.
“I’m dying to hear it. Should I drive while you tell me or you wanna stay here for a minute?”
“Just a minute because the way this food is assaulting my senses, I can’t take it for too long and I want Rai’s food to still be hot when we get back. Wait . . . actually, go ‘head and drive, babe. I’ll be done by the time we get back. I just don’t want to have this conversation in front of the kid.”
“Oh, I really need to hear it now.”
“Well, the mature little person that he is . . .” She took a few-second pause before proceeding. “He already knew about the whole situation.”
“What!” I gasped, in surprise. “Wait . . . about your sister? How?”
“He overheard her and my mother arguing about it years ago.”
“Hold on. Years?”
“Years.” She lowered her head briefly. “He knew for years, Dario. Held onto it and just moved right along. He said that I’m his mom and that’s all that ever mattered. He knew what Tyler was talking about that day and that was why he charged at him. He said he never wanted to hear the words spoken again.”
Just hearing that information made me regret not killing Tyler. It actually had me wanting to finish the job. He was a worthless waste of space who should be breathing air from the pits of hell.
“Babe . . . you listening?” Chanel asked, reaching over to touch my arm.
“Yeah, I heard everything. I’m just so in awe of that kid, man. I mean, it just shows how much he loves his mother. Amazing. And that sack of shit . . . never mind.”
“No, babe. We’re not getting worked up over him. That’s done.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “So, wow. Rai is every bit the amazing kid I knew him to be. I mean, damn. That’s just . . . phenomenal.”
“Right?” she proudly agreed. “Phenomenal.”
“Question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“You ready for my aunt’s house after Rai’s release?”
Chanel sank back into the seat and looked out the front window. “Kinda sorta. Scared a little bit, but ready.”
“Cool. I know it’s gonna all be fine. Beautiful, even. Are your mother and sister coming?”
“No on both. Rochelle and I had a talk the other day and we’re in a much better place. From day one, Rai has been my kid. I held him first, I named him. Period. She recognizes and honors that. And even if she didn’t, paperwork states that she has to. But no, we’re good. She’s his aunt. It’s who she’s always been. She says she’s thankful that it all came full circle. She’s remorseful that she didn’t try to reach out to your family before, but her reason is that she didn’t know how they’d feel about bringing a black baby to their front door. Her words not mine,” she chuckled. “But anyway,” she continued, releasing a breathy sigh and shaking her head, I assumed in disappointment. “My mother isn’t coming because she’s afraid of transparency.”
“Transparency? I don’t get it. Transparency of what?”
“She doesn’t want to be judged now that a new family is introduced into the fold. A new family with money and power. She’s intimidated.”
“What? She needs to meet everybody at some point. She’s gonna do it at some point, right?”
“I don’t know, and I’m not forcing her, Dario. I really don’t have time to do that. I can deal with her later. She’s all on this thing about reliving her past. She thinks that they’ll look at her with contempt for the fact that it was her young daughter to raise her grandchild and not her.”
“There were extenuating circumstances for that, though.”
“Right. But she sees it as a tool to judge her. She doesn’t want them knowing that she was strung out for some years. That she gave up her kids when we were two and three years old to run off with some dude that had her addicted to taking the tobacco from her cigarettes and replacing it with coke.”
“I’m sure that would be the last thing on their minds. Scratch that. I know that would be the last thing on their minds.”
“Tried to convince her of all of that until I just stopped. I was exerting good energy to that lost cause far longer than I should’ve been. She doesn’t see that out of her bad situation came some kick-ass shit. When I forgave her years ago, I said it to her. Not everybody gets the second chance at life that she did and she was ready enough, and brave enough to step into her new phase.” Chanel turned to me with an intense glare as we pulled into hospital parking. “This woman was strung out from twenty-three to thirty-five years old! That’s twelve years, Dario! But she did it. She met a girl who had an uncle who had the resources to help her.” Tears came to Chanel’s eyes. “I’m so proud of her, Dario. Yeah, life could’ve been a little bit easier and certainly different had she been there when I was growing up. But I wouldn’t have my son, so I didn’t need that life that could’ve been. I’m good. Having him is the best possible outcome for my life. But yeah, I tell her all the time how proud she should be and to stop beating herself up over the past. She did what a lot of addicts don’t do—accepted help. She did that and not only that, she recovered fully. This is a woman with multiple businesses, a 501(c)(3), owns her own home free and clear, and is about to get married to a good dude! You’d never know that she was a part of that previous life where shit was just all bad.”
I listened intently to Chanel pour her feelings out about her mother. “Baby . . .” I reasoned. “Unfortunately, even as proud as you are of your mother and how much you tell her that you’ve forgiven her, it’s not gonna resonate until she’s forgiven herself. She has this great life, but somewhere inside she doesn’t feel as though she deserves it. That’s what it sounds like to me. So, her being worried about how my family will look at her is really about how she sees herself through her own lens. You can’t do anything about that. Okay?”
“Okay,” she nodded. “And I get that. I guess I’m just still pissed about the long, drawn-out spiel she gave when I invited her in the first place. But you’re right.”
“Pssh, I’m always right.”
“Yeah, that’s false!” she exclaimed, laughing heartily. “That was a good one, baby. I mean, really good. Aaaand now that you’ve given me a good laugh, and my senses are working again, let’s get this smell-good up inside this place and chow down. Cool?”
“Not yet,” I said, leaning over to kiss her on the lips. “Now, it’s cool.”