Read When the Fairytale Ends Online

Authors: Dwan Abrams

When the Fairytale Ends (18 page)

BOOK: When the Fairytale Ends
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He expected a few different parting words. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why she was telling him this.
She must've read the confusion on his face because she added, “Even if it don't make no sense now, it will later.”
“Okay.” Greg nodded and let his lips linger on her cool forehead for a few seconds. “I love you, Mother.”
“I love you too, son. And when you get the chance, take a vacation, chile. It'll do you a world of good.”
“I plan to,” Greg said, smiling. He then told her about his upcoming vacation. He held her hand. “If you don't want us to go, we can cancel the trip.”
She coughed out the word “no,” cleared her throat, then said, “San-na-oochee?” She frowned. “I ain't never heard of that island.”
Greg laughed at her pronunciation. “It's in Jamaica.”
“Jamaica,” Mother repeated him. “Ahh, I know where that's at. I always wanted to go there.”
“Maybe we can take you once you get out of here.”
“No, chile,” Mother said and patted his hand. “Y'all just go and have a good time for me. Get on out of here now. I got people to see, and places to go.”
Greg had to force one foot in front of the other in order to leave her room. He didn't want to leave; he wanted to sit in that chair forever and watch over her like a guardian angel. Deep down inside, he felt that as long as he was in the room with her, God wouldn't let her pass to the other side. He had no idea why he felt that way, because whether he was willing to admit it or not, he knew that when it was time to go, it was time to go.
In the hallway, he was met with the unwelcomed sight of Kristen. Thankfully, she had on some decent clothing, but her shirt was cut dangerously low, showing off her ample bosom. His face grimaced on its own volition.
“Is she dead yet?” Kristen asked matter-of-factly.
Once again, his hand itched to slap her. For that one second in time, he wished he wasn't a Christian, and he wished his parents hadn't instilled such good morals in him. He was yearning to put his fist through her face and use physical force to teach her the true meaning of respect. But instead, he locked his jaw in place and said through his teeth, “You better not hurt her.”
“Or what you gonna do, Daddy?” she asked and slid her tongue over her bottom teeth. “You can play like you don't like this if you want to, but that day at the dealership, somebody got a little happy against my leg. Or did you forget?”
There she goes again, playing her little games.
Greg didn't think her question warranted a reply. He simply said, “I'm praying for your soul,” while he brushed past her.
She looked after him, laughing. “'Preciate it!”
He found Franklin and Kaiya in the waiting room, huddled over the Bible. When Franklin saw him, his expression asked if Mother Washington was all right.
Greg nodded. “She's happy, she's at peace, and she's in good spirits. That's all we can ask for, right?”
Both Kaiya and Franklin nodded. Then Greg said, “Look, man, I gotta run. Same time when all this craziness happened, my brother-in-law got shot. With the way things are going, there's no way Shania and I are gonna be able to go to Ocho Rios in two weeks.”
Franklin frowned. “You ain't talking 'bout the same dude that just got shot not too long ago?”
Greg nodded.
“I thought you said he gave his life to God? Thought you said he gave up that lifestyle.”
“He did,” Greg said, shrugging his shoulders. “I don't know what's all going on, but they got him over there at South Georgia Medical Center. Shania's en route, so I'm headed that way now.”
“A'ight, man,” Franklin said and slapped hands with his friend. “You be careful.”
Greg nodded, then gave Kaiya a hug. He looked back to Franklin. “You take care of her, all right, bro?”
Franklin grinned. “You know I will.”
Greg tried not to think about Kristen in Mother Washington's room, yanking the tubes out of her, turning off all the machines, smothering her with a pillow. A thousand negative thoughts filled his mind, but once again, he forced himself to set his mind on positive things. He called Shania to let her know he was on the way, but her phone went straight to voice mail. So he jumped on his bike and flew down the road from one hospital to the next.
When he got to South Georgia Medical Center, he went to the receptionist desk and asked what room Jonathan was in. She told him, and he took the elevator and read the door tags until he came to Jonathan's room. He found Shania and Cheyenne holding each other on the extra bed in the room, both fast asleep beneath a blanket. The blanket had slid off their shoulders, so, careful not to wake them, Greg lifted the blanket and placed a gentle kiss on Shania's head.
Other than having his leg in traction and an IV in his arm, Jonathan didn't look anywhere near as bad as Mother Washington had.
As he approached the bed, Jonathan's eyes fluttered open, and he stared at Greg.
Jonathan cleared his throat. “Hey, Mr. Greg.”
“Jonathan.” Greg held his bike helmet in his lap and took a seat in a chair that was already next to the bed.
“How's Cheyenne?”
He motioned his hand in the direction of Cheyenne and Shania. “As you can see, her and her sister are knocked out sleep.” Greg shifted in the chair. “Are you okay?”
Jonathan nodded his head and reached for the pitcher of water beside him. “I mean, it's not like this is the first time I been shot. At least this time the damage ain't as bad.” He sipped some water, then cleared his throat again. “Thanks for coming to see me.”
Greg chose his words carefully. “To be honest, Jonathan, I'm wondering, why am I here to see you? I mean, I know you got shot, but how did it come to this?”
Jonathan held up a hand to stop Greg. “Before you get started,” he said, “let me let you know that your wife done already went ham on me. She called me every name but a child of God and didn't bite her tongue to let me know how she really felt about me. She thinks I'm no better than the trash that the dog dragged in.”
Greg was silent as he waited for Jonathan to continue, because he felt in his spirit that there was more Jonathan needed to tell.
“When I was out in the projects, living an illegal lifestyle,” he said, “I ain't have nobody to come talk to me and lead me to God. I was hanging with a bunch of dudes who was doing the same things I was doing—smoking, slanging, drinking, sniffing. Ain't nobody talk to me about God. Only time I heard God's name was when somebody got killed and the people on the street would say, ‘He's in God's hands now.'” Jonathan cleared his throat and continued. “But I had this one homeboy. He went by the name of J-Dub. He used to always talk about how he wanted to get his life right 'cause he got twin girls to live for. Plus, he'd always talk about how he ain't wanna die and go to hell. So . . .” Jonathan shrugged his shoulder, then winced and gingerly placed a hand against his side.
“You all right?” Greg asked, ready to stand and call a nurse, if need be.
Jonathan waved for him to stay seated and took a few seconds to gather his bearings. Then he continued, “Me and Cheyenne, we came back down to the projects, looking for J-Dub. I was ministering to him about how God had changed me and how He could do the exact same thing for him, since God ain't a respecter of persons, you feel me?”
Greg nodded and didn't fight the smile that was inching across his face. “Yeah, I feel you, Jonathan.”
“Well, anyways,” he continued, “while we was over there, some people who J-Dub owed drug money to came over, demanding their money. J-Dub told them he ain't have it, so Cheyenne gave them everything she had on her, but it still wasn't enough. The dudes left. Then next thing we knew,
pow pow pow
,” he said and turned his fingers into guns to mimic the gunshots. “I kept yelling for Cheyenne to get down, and I jumped on top of her. I was the only one who got hit.” Jonathan gestured at his leg. “Bullet tore through my calf muscle.” He motioned at his side. “Bullet tore through my side.”
“Man,” Greg said, amazed at the truth of what really happened, but even more amazed at this young man's courage to put himself in harm's way to bring a lost soul back to Christ. “I bet you're pissed, huh?”
“Pissed?” Jonathan frowned and shook his head. “Naw, man, I ain't pissed.” He gestured at his leg again. “The gunshot to my leg wasn't nothing but a flesh wound.” He gestured at his side. “Gunshot right here went slam through me. It ain't hit a single vital organ. Doc told me, ‘Young man, you are very lucky.' I say, ‘Naw, Doc. I ain't lucky. I'm blessed.'”
Greg looked at Jonathan, beaming, and he wished to God he could hug this young man. There was Shania in the bedroom, getting dressed, talking pure trash about this young man, and in all actuality, he could be considered a martyr. He had put his own life on the line to save just a single soul. He didn't know how much more Christlike someone could get than that.
“You know what?” Greg said, standing to his feet. “No matter what Shania says about you, you're all right in my book.”
Being careful not to tear the wound in his side, Jonathan touched his fist to Greg's. “I appreciate that, man. But as long as I'm all right in God's book, that's all that matters.”
Greg couldn't argue with that. He wondered if Shania would finally admit she was wrong about Jonathan and accept him into the family.
Fifteen
Shania sat in the living room, looking over the paperwork she had received from her doctor. She yawned. There was so much information that she thought her head was going to explode. She read about the first trimester of pregnancy and what to expect, foods to eat, and the importance of prenatal vitamins.
“Great,” she said to no one in particular. “Nausea, dizziness, and frequent urination,” she read.
Just seeing the word
urination
on the page made her bladder feel full, prompting her to get up and go to the bathroom—again. Shania swore she had to go pee every five minutes, but she didn't mind. All part of the journey toward motherhood, she reasoned.
She hurried up and washed her hands and dried them on a paper towel when she heard her phone ringing. She captured the call before her voice mail picked up. Rayna immediately chimed in, explaining that she was calling to see how Shania was doing.
Shania could hear her doctor's words replaying in her head. The doctor had told her that some people preferred to wait until after the first trimester before telling people about the baby. She understood the logic. The doctor had explained that about 80 percent of miscarriages occur in the first trimester. Even still, she didn't feel right keeping the news from the closest person to her besides Greg.
Convinced she'd pop like a balloon if she held the information in any longer, she blurted out, “'Cuz, you're not going to believe this.” She imagined Rayna holding her breath, as she often did when waiting to hear news, whether good or bad. “I'm five weeks pregnant.”
“Are you serious?” She didn't sound as surprised as Shania thought she would. “I kind of figured you were, considering how low tolerance you've been lately, combined with your frequent vomiting.” Rayna laughed, then said what Shania had previously thought. “Just think…a few months ago you were a virgin. And now, you're about to be a mother. Congrats to you and Greg. Speaking of Greg, how's he feel about it? Is he excited?”
“Yeah, he's pretty excited, considering the circumstances. He went to the doctor with me this past Friday, and he was very supportive. When we went out for dinner yesterday, he talked about starting on the baby's room already.” She worried her scalp with her fingers. “No sooner than we mellowed out from our emotional high, life came crashing down around us.”
“What do you mean?” Rayna sounded concerned.
“Cheyenne called to tell me that Jonathan had been shot again.”
She heard Rayna gasp. “Is he okay?”
“Yes. He had a flesh wound, and the other bullet went right through him. It didn't do any damage.”
Exhaling, Rayna said, “Thank goodness.”
“As if that wasn't enough, Mother Washington is suffering from a brain tumor.”
“Mother Washington?” Rayna gasped again. “Isn't that the elderly lady who Greg checks up on all the time?”
“Yes, girl,” Shania said, nodding. “That woman is like a second mother to him. He's actually over there at the hospital now. I wanted to go with him, but he wouldn't let me. He says I need my rest. He's been going through a lot lately, so make sure you keep him lifted up in prayer.”
“You know I will.”
She yawned again and apologized. “I had a long night.”
Rayna said, “I can tell. You sound exhausted. Take care of my godbaby, and get some rest.”
Shania loved the way Rayna had presumed she'd be the child's godmother. In Shania's mind, there was no other choice. Besides being family, Rayna was one person she could count on to carry out her wishes.
They ended the call, and Shania's eyelids felt heavy as they drooped over her eyes. She realized that with all the commotion, she hadn't told Cheyenne about the baby. Since she would be her child's aunt, Cheyenne had a right to know.
She reached for the phone but then hesitated with her fingers still outstretched. Guilt gnawed at her. The way she had gone off on Jonathan last night was completely uncalled for. As an active Christian, she knew better than to act like she had and to say the horribly hurtful things she had said. Overwhelming fear and anger had allowed her emotions to get the best of her. She'd felt guilty about how she had gone off on Jonathan, only to find out later that she had jammed her foot in her mouth.
Pride wouldn't let her apologize the night before. Knowing she couldn't put the phone call off any longer, she called her sister and waited for her to answer.
When she finally answered the call, Shania said, “How's he doing?”
“Sister, he's fine,” Cheyenne said, and there was a smile in her voice. “The doctor is going to keep him for a few days to make sure his wounds don't get infected, and then he's free to go. I'm so thankful, sister, because this could've been a lot worse. God's hand of protection was all over us.”
“Tell me about it!” Shania exclaimed. “Well, I'm glad to hear that he's doing better.”
“Mmm-hmm,” her sister said, and her tone was a little too chirpy.
A long pause extended between the two and Shania knew that Cheyenne was purposefully waiting for her to break the silence. “Okay,” Shania finally breathed into the phone. “Okay,” she said again. “I'm sorry.”
“For?”
Shania rolled her eyes. “For assuming the worst and showing up at that hospital, acting like an ignorant fool. Sorry for disrespecting you and your husband, and sorry for embarrassing you.”
“You didn't embarrass me,” Cheyenne said with plenty of feistiness. “You embarrassed yourself.”
“Yeah, well . . .” Shania shook her head and toyed with her bottom lip. “It's just . . . he wasn't my prime choice for you, Cheyenne, and you know it. I figured he was just with you for the money. A bad boy who had found a good girl. I thought his conversion was artificial. But considering last night, the only one who seems artificial is me.”
Cheyenne sighed. “You're not artificial. You're human. Just like me and just like Jonathan. I mean, think about this. You've always felt the need to be in control, ever since our parents died in that car crash. It's understandable that you would feel that way, because the sudden death of our parents made you feel out of control. You stepped in, and you became like a mother to me, and I will forever appreciate that, sister. But you have to let me go and let me live life for myself and just know that if God never let you down, what makes you think He's going to let me down?”
“Wow,” Shania said, nodding her head as she listened to her sister speak. “Powerful words of wisdom. I needed to hear that.”
“I'm not mad at you, sister, and I still love you just as much as I always have.”
Shania smiled. “Thank you, Cheyenne. I love you too.”
Her intuition told her that even though she would still prefer for Cheyenne and Jonathan to wait on making a baby, the decision was ultimately theirs. In her heart, she believed that her sister was mature enough to live life in her own footsteps, despite the choices that Cheyenne made in her life. What better time than now to inform her sister that she and her husband were going to be an aunt and uncle?
“Before you hang up,” Shania said quickly, “I have to tell you something.”
“And what's that?”
Shania inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “I have a bean in my oven.”
It took her sister only a few seconds to catch her meaning. “Awww, sister, I couldn't be happier. I'm going to be an auntie! I guess Jonathan can forgive you for how you flipped out on him in the car and at the hospital. That wasn't you. That was the baby talking.” She burst out laughing.
The laughter must've been contagious, because Shania found herself laughing at her sister's silliness. Cheyenne had reacted exactly the way Shania had expected her to. They talked about motherhood and all the things that the baby would need. Cheyenne said she was trusting and believing in God that it would be a girl, because she wanted to go to the store and buy her a ton of pretty little pink dresses. They spent the next thirty minutes talking solely about the baby.
With her head jerking back and eyes straining to stay open, Shania resigned to the fact that she needed to take a nap and told Cheyenne that she'd talk to her later.
Not having enough energy to make it up the stairs and lie in her bed, Shania drifted off right there on the couch.
She wasn't sure how long she had been asleep when she felt Greg shaking her. She fluttered her eyelids and finally opened her eyes long enough to focus on his handsome face. Feeling a little disoriented, she took a moment to gain her composure.
“What?” she muttered, still trying to focus on him. For all her sleepless nights, for him to interrupt such good rest, he'd better have a reason of gold.
“I want you to see something I found,” he said and kept shaking her until she finally sat up on the couch and glared at him with her red-veined eyes.
“Greg, I swear this better be good.”
Battling with the sleep that continued to call her name, Shania plopped her feet on the floor and forced her body off the couch. She followed Greg to his office, wondering what in the world he was up to. He pulled back the computer chair and motioned for her to have a seat. She sat in the chair, then looked up at him.
“What is it?”
He pointed at the computer screen. “Read it.”
Shania swiveled around and stared at the screen, her eyes quickly scanning the information. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and her eyebrows lifted while she read each line. Ms. Kristen Washington had quite an extensive history. She'd been evicted from her apartment and filed bankruptcy all in the span of one year.
“I paid to run a background check on her.” He explained. Greg squatted beside her and read the information along with her.
Shania nibbled on her pointer nail and shook her head. “This is so sad,” she whispered. “Do you really think she would go as far as to try to intentionally overdose her own mother?”
“Yes, I do,” Greg said, reaching around her to move the mouse. He minimized the screen they were looking at and pulled up a different screen. One read: “Inmate Offender Search” in big bold letters. Greg pointed at Kristen's offender profile. “She served four months in county for an aggravated assault conviction. So no, I wouldn't put it past her.”
“Wow, Greg,” Shania said, leaning back in the chair. “You really did your homework.”
“Babe,” he said, taking one of her hands in his, “if Mother makes it through—which I still think she can because God is a healer—then I want her to come live with us forever. As long as Kristen's around, she will never be safe.”
His concern for Mother Washington touched her deeply. She kissed his temple and said, “If that's what you feel we need to do, then it's fine with me.”
“Thank you, Shania.”
Even as he offered her his thanks, her heart went out to him. Deep down inside, she knew that Mother Washington's time here on earth was coming to an end. Mother Washington was like a flickering candle that had burnt down to the wick. She'd lived her life, made her accomplishments, and made her mistakes. Now it was time for her to shed her old building for her mansion in the sky.
Even though Shania had fixed up the guest room and made it warm and inviting, she had done it more so for Greg than Mother Washington. However, unwilling to dampen her husband's hope and optimism about Mother's health, she encouraged him and upheld his convictions.
Greg stood and said, “Have you talked to Cheyenne?”
Shania turned in the swivel chair to face her husband and nodded. “Yeah, I talked to her. I told her we are pregnant.”
“Yeah, but did you tell her you were sorry?”
His words hit home, convicting her even more than the Holy Spirit already had. “Yes, Greg,” she said, donning a very sober expression. “I apologized to her.”
“Did you apologize to him?”
She cocked an eyebrow, then lowered it slowly. “No, not yet, but I plan to.”
“Good,” Greg said and reached around her to close out of the programs. “It seems like every time something happens in your sister's life, you lose your head.”
“No, I don't—”
“Yes, you do, babe,” he said, nodding emphatically. “What about the time when they ran away and eloped? Cheyenne had kept it a secret until Jonathan got shot the first time, and you almost killed yourself. Literally. I had to wake you up with smelling salt.”
She leaned back in her chair and stared at him as she reflected on the day that Cheyenne had told her that her last name had changed.
 
 
Cheyenne had just finished telling Shania about an argument Jonathan and another guy had outside of the movie theater. The guy followed Jonathan and Cheyenne back to Jonathan's grandmother's house and shot Jonathan.
BOOK: When the Fairytale Ends
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