Chapter 57
OZZIE
Ozzie dropped his Samsonite attaché case, heavy with the midterm papers, by the front door.
For the past four years, he had worked as an assistant professor in the Economics Department at his alma mater, Lincoln University.
This semester he had taught two sections, and as per usual, his students had waited until the eleventh hour to submit their final papers.
One student had even cornered him in the faculty parking lot to hand over work.
Untying his wing tips, he slipped the pair into the shoe rack in the hall closet, as was Rita’s rule the moment they had purchased their new home on Twenty-Third Street.
The beige carpet was soft under his tired feet as he padded around Maceo’s djembe drums and past the reading corner down through to the kitchen at the rear of the house.
Inside the refrigerator, he snapped up a cold cola, his after-work drink of choice.
Ozzie took his sobriety one day at a time, but sometimes, when he looked back, he was amazed at the progress he had made.
The first two years had been like riding a bicycle with training wheels, and Joe and Earl had kept a steady hand on his back.
By year three, Rita had trusted him to be involved with their finances again.
Now, at eleven years, they had moved into an easy rhythm that only time could teach.
The telephone rang, and when he reached for the receiver hanging from the kitchen wall, he had a feeling that it was Rita, telling him that she was working on a brief and that she’d need him to pick up Maceo from baseball practice.
“Hello.”
“Ozzie?” It wasn’t Rita, it was his mother, Nettie.
“Hey, Mama. How you doing?”
“I need you to come on over here.”
He frowned. “Why your voice sounding like that? What’s wrong?”
“Ain’t nothing wrong. I just need you to do as I say. Now, come along.”
“Ma, just tell me what it is.”
“Shouldn’t take you but ten minutes to get here.” And with that, she hung up the telephone.
Nettie was getting mulish in her old age, and Ozzie knew he couldn’t do much but obey.
After he scribbled a note for Rita, Ozzie changed into a 76ers T-shirt, sweats, and his Chuck Taylor All Stars.
The weather was nice, and after teaching all day, it felt good to breathe in the fresh air.
As he moved swiftly through the five blocks between his house and his mother’s home, he hoped she wasn’t summoning him for the bad news that someone was in the hospital or, worse, had died.
Nettie was old-school-like, she never discussed anything of importance over the telephone.
The black-and-white front door to his childhood home was open, and the screen door scratched against the step, announcing his arrival. When he stepped into the living room, on the sofa sat a woman who looked familiar, and the sight of her made his mouth parch.
“Jelka?” he croaked, and in those few seconds, he could feel all the air drain from his lungs.
Nettie wore a red and yellow kaftan, and the material rustled as she lifted her arms and clasped her hands together. “Now, honey, I thought you said your name was Jutt-a.”
“It is Jutta,” she said to Nettie, then pushed herself up. “Hello, Osbourne.” Jutta crossed the room and threw her arms around his neck.
“Oh my God.” Ozzie hugged her back, unable to believe it. “You look just like your sister. How did you find me? It’s been so long.” He stepped back, taking in the woman before him but still seeing in her eyes the twelve-year-old girl he had left behind.
Before Jutta could answer, Ozzie saw a figure coming down the stairs. He released Jutta just as his knees started to buckle. Was it? Could it be?
“Katja?” he breathed.
The long-legged redheaded girl stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and the rest of the room disappeared. She was a combination of his mother and Jelka. Same pink lips with a sprinkle of freckles on her nose. The Philips nose.
“Hi, I go by Sophia,” she said softly. “I just found out that my real name is Katja.”
“And I just found out that my grandbaby goes to a hoity-toity boarding school in Maryland. Who would have thought it?” Nettie clapped her hands.
“I take it you are Osbourne?” Katja smiled, and that was when he saw Jelka come alive on her face. It was that smile, the way her lips curled and her cheeks rose.
All Ozzie could do was nod as he strode toward her, closing the distance between them.
The girl reached into her front dress pocket and held out a Polaroid to him.
He took it. It was one of the two photos that Jutta had taken of the three of them, the one he had given to her.
He looked from the picture to Katja; she had grown, and she was stunning.
His daughter. His Kitten was standing in front of him after all these years.
“Thank you, God,” he mumbled as he pulled Katja into his arms and held her tight, tears drizzling his cheeks. “I can’t believe it is really you.”
Ozzie shook uncontrollably, and he wasn’t ashamed.
For he had been faithful, had done what Joe had told him to do.
He had worked his recovery program, attended his weekly meeting without fail, and now his daughter was in his arms. Katja had found her way back to him.
The promises of living a clean and sober life had come true.
Ozzie let go, then stared at Katja. She was only a few inches shorter than he was, tall and lanky, like his older sisters.
“Words can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. I never meant to leave you behind in Germany.”
“It’s okay. I understand,” she offered.
“I’ve searched for you.” He grabbed both her hands. “I’ll be here for you for the rest of my days, if you will allow me.”