CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
BLOSSOM
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We stayed that way for a moment, mother and daughter, holding each other, crying for very different reasons. She was crying because she feared I was in danger. I was crying because if there was one thing I hoped she’d forget, it was the Marcel incident.
She was the first to pull away, looking over me again, before clasping my hands in hers and sighing heavily.
"I thought they’d gotten you,” she whispered.
“I’m fine, Mom. I promise.”
Her gaze drifted behind me. Then her panicked eyes locked onto mine again.
"You came alone. They didn't hurt Kelly, did they? Please tell me..."
"No, Ma. No one has hurt Kelly. She’s at home, doing just fine."
"They didn't follow you here, did they?"
“No. I wasn’t followed.”
“I’ve put you in danger. I’ve put my baby in danger. What kind of mother am I?”
“I’m not in danger, Mom. I have security cameras at home. I’ll see it if someone comes for me. I’m safe. I swear.”
"If anything happens, you run."
"Mom..."
"Promise me, Little Flower."
“I will, Ma. I’ll run if anything happens.”
Her eyes squeezed shut, another look of relief washing over her. For a second, she swayed. I placed my hand on her shoulder so she wouldn’t fall off the bed.
“You shouldn’t come here anymore,” she told me. “If you keep coming here, they’ll find you, Little Flower.”
"No one will find us, Mom. Don’t worry, we’re safe. All of us are. I’ll protect all of us.”
"You always try to protect everyone," she whispered. Her hand lifted to my cheek. "Just this once, let me protect you."
“You’ve protected me more than once. You protected me all my life.”
“But I put you in danger.”
“It's okay," I whispered. “Everything is going to be okay.”
"No." She shook her head slowly. "No, it's not okay."
When her gaze landed back on me, my stomach twisted because I recognized that look. The guilt. The shame. The self-loathing. I'd seen it before in her eyes. In mine too. In Kelly’s also.
"I shouldn't have told her to take it,” she whispered.
"Mom, let’s watch the game show and...”
"I saw the job post and thought it would be an easy job for Kelly to work on, to build her confidence,” she continued, staring down at the blanket.
“She tried to explain why we couldn’t take it.
Tried to tell me who the family was that we’d be spying on.
But it didn’t register... in here.” She tapped her head hard.
I had to grab her hand to make her stop.
“It’s okay, Mom...” I started.
“It's not,” she cried. “Little Kelly tried to tell me it wasn’t a good idea. I got mad at her. I thought she was treating me like an old lady, saying I didn’t know how to run The Circuit in your absence. I thought...”
“Mom,” I cut her off. “It’s okay. I’ve taken care of everything.”
“They’ll never let it go,” she cried. “Families like that don't forgive things like this. When they find out what I did...”
“They won’t find out. I’ve handled it.”
“It’s too much for you to handle alone,” she told me.
“I’m stronger than I look, Ma. You raised me to be strong. I can handle this.”
"I thought I was helping Kelly gain more experience,” her voice cracked. “She hates me now, doesn’t she? She blames me for making her do it, for getting her into this trouble.”
“No, Mom. I’m protecting her. I won’t let anyone hurt her.”
“It’s all my fault...” Another sob escaped her.
My chest ached for my mother, for Kelly, for Marcel. I blamed myself for it all. I should’ve noticed something was wrong. I should’ve been paying more attention. Those times when she forgot things, I shouldn’t have listened when she said it was just old age.
Nobody knew the dementia had already started. No one noticed the signs. Everyone thought she was okay. But I was her daughter. I should’ve noticed that her forgetfulness wasn’t normal.
"Kelly said she wanted to call you to see if it was okay,” my mother cried. “I should've let her. I shouldn’t have gotten angry, thinking the younger generation was trying to shut me out of what I’d helped build."
"Mom..."
"I should've waited until you got back." Her breathing became uneven. "I should've remembered our rules, our protocols. I couldn’t remember them. I can’t remember... a lot of things. Everything feels... broken... in my head. Some memories... I can’t reach them.”
Those last words shattered me. My mother hadn’t remembered she wasn't supposed to take jobs like that. She hadn’t remembered that there was a list of families we didn’t get involved with.
The cruel irony was that now she couldn't stop reliving that mistake, couldn’t stop blaming herself, and feeling guilty. Pulling her close, I tightened my arms around her as she cried against my shoulder.
“It’ll be okay. I’ll make sure everyone is okay. I promise.”
“Oh, Little Flower, what is wrong with me?” she cried.
“I’ve got you, Ma. I’ve got you.”
That was all I could say as I rocked back and forth, holding her the way she held me so often when I was growing up. I don’t know how long I sat there, rocking her and humming softly.
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.
I hummed and rocked her until she fell asleep. Then I lowered her onto the bed and tucked her in. Rising to my feet, I stared down at her. She looked so peaceful. But her tear-stained face broke my heart.
My eyes roamed over her, taking in her appearance. The gray in her hair. The lines on her face. How small and frail she looked now. This woman used to feel invincible to me. She was the person I ran to when things got bad.
Now, I’d lost that safe haven. I’d lost my rock, the person who sheltered me from the storms and weathered them with me. It was now time for me to be that for her. I had to be invincible.
I had to be her safe haven and shelter her from this storm. From all storms. I would do that for her. I would be that rock. I would always be her Little Flower. But this flower had thorns. And I would use any means necessary to keep her safe.
Leaning in, I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and whispered, “Good night, Mama. Sweet dreams.”
Grabbing my purse, I left the room, gently closing the door behind me. I followed the sound of the television to the living room, where Nancy was watching a cooking show rerun. She looked up when she heard me approaching.
“How is she?” Nancy asked.
“She’s sleeping,” I told her, sitting down on the couch next to her.
“Good. She needs her rest. I’m glad you could calm her down.”
“I hate seeing her like this,” I muttered, staring at the television screen, but not truly seeing it.
“She would hate this, too. She wouldn’t want this.
I mean, no one would. But she was always the life of the party.
Always flitting about. She was a stubborn woman who could run circles around everyone in the shop.
And she always took care of everyone, even though she hated to ask for help when she needed it.
She would wake up at night, bake dozens of muffins, and bring them to the shop for everyone.
Now, she can’t be left alone. She can’t enjoy life. She can’t...”
Getting choked up, I went silent. Nancy rubbed my shoulder.
“It’s not fair. Life’s not fair,” Nancy told me. “Getting old is natural. But this...” she shook her head.
“This feels so cruel,” I whispered. “I try not to question God. But I... I can’t see a reason for this. Are... are we being punished for the things we’ve done over the years?” I asked, feeling the tears threatening to fall again.
“Sweetie, no. There are far worse people out there who deserve to be punished. Not us. Our goal is to help people. It may seem unorthodox to some. But our unorthodox ways have saved many lives. They saved mine. Your mom saved me. I ran into her shop over thirty years ago, bruised and battered after escaping my now ex-husband’s car.
I ran into her shop and said one word: Help.
And your Mom and Tracy rushed forward and did just that.
Your mom locked the store up and turned the sign to closed.
And Tracy rushed to my side, telling me she was a nurse and asking me where I was hurt.
I stared into the faces of those two women, two black women, and wondered, why the hell are they helping me?
You see, my ex was all about white power.
My parents had forced me to marry the bastard.
And all I’d heard for years was that black people were against us.
I never experienced it. Never seen him experience it.
But it was what he talked about all day, every day.
People who think that way are just obsessed with black people and feel inferior to them.
Yet, those people he said were against us were the ones who protected me from him.
All I could think was, I’m glad I ran into this shop.
Because had I gone anywhere else on that strip, those white women would have shoved me out. ”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. I ran up to another door first, and a young blonde was standing in her door, cleaning her windows. Her gaze moved over me. Then she quickly locked her door and pretended she didn’t see me.”
“Well...damn.”
“I know. I moved on to the next shop. And they let me in. They didn’t only let me in, they helped me.
When Frank came to the door, knocking, saying he saw me enter in here.
Your Mom told him to get away from her store.
He called her a hateful word and told her to shut the fuck up.
Embarrassment ran all over me at that, and I started apologizing for him.
Then Tracy looked at me and said, “You’re apologizing for him. Do you think the same way he does?”
“That sounds like Tracy.”
Nancy chuckled. “I told her no. She nodded and asked me who Frank was. I explained my situation, how he... when he got low on funds, he let his friends....”
“You don’t have to say it, Ms. Nancy.”