Eleven
ELEVEN
Holland
A s much as I enjoyed Ms. Elsie’s visits, I couldn’t wait to leave so I could get back to my aunt’s journals. Noble already left and now, not even the savory sweet potato pie could tear my attention away from the words that plagued my thoughts. Her colorful stories couldn’t drown out the loud hum of questions buzzing in my head.
“Okay, honey. Let me know if you need anything else,” Ms. Elsie said, walking me to the door.
“I will. Thanks again Ms. Elsie.
Back at the house, I stared at the book, circling it like an animal sizing up its prey. I reached for it but pulled my hand back as if it would scorch my fingers. I needed to know about my aunt’s connection with my adoptive mother, and at the same time, I was afraid of what I would confront between those pages. Ma never mentioned knowing Aunt Goldie, yet her name appeared in her journal. My pulse quickened and throbbed in my ears.
Before I could reach for the journal again, my phone rang.
Mama’s image smiled back at me. I dragged in a breath, trying my best to sound composed. “Hey, Ma.”
“Hey, baby.” Her tone was sugary sweet. “I hadn’t heard from you.”
“Sorry. I’ve been busy cleaning out this house. There’s years and years of stuff here.” Forcing myself to sit, I flopped on the bed. The nervous energy coursing through me found an outlet through my bouncing leg. I wanted to ask how she knew Aunt Goldie but needed to know what the journal said before saying anything.
“Okay. Are you eating?” Ma asked.
“Um. Yeah. Just had dinner with Aunt Goldie’s neighbor.”
“Oh…” Ma paused a long while. In the silence, I stood, paced a few steps and sat back down. “Okay,” she finally said.
“Ma.” I paused, thinking about how I wanted to ask my next question. “How did you know Aunt Goldie?” She said nothing. I thought the call ended. “Ma. You still there?”
“Yes. I’m here.” Her tone flattened. Gone was the tender, soothing timbre she reserved for me. “I knew she was your grandmother’s sister.”
She had never mentioned my grandmother before either. “You knew my grandma?”
Tentative silence expanded on the line, dissipating when she finally said, “Yes.”
My heart plummeted to my stomach. I shook my head. Had I heard her right? Ma admitted knowing my grandmother too. There was so much I wanted to ask. Of all the words jumbled in my mind, “How?” was the only question I could get past my lips. She didn’t respond. “How come you never told me you knew them?” There was no response. “Ma!” I yelled. She seemed to remember she was on the phone when I yelled her name.
“I… I’d help her out sometimes.” Her voice had lost its luster. “I looked after you.” She cleared her throat. “When you were young.” A few more silent beats pulsed by as I waited impatiently. “And—” another long pause “—I helped them out when I could. That’s all. Why are you asking me this stuff?” Ma’s voice cracked. Then she snapped. “Where are all these questions coming from? Forget it!” she added before I could respond. “I’m not feeling well. When are you coming home? I need you.”
“Patience is there!” I snapped. “She can help you with whatever you need. Just answer my questions.”
“I did. And it’s not the same. When can you come home? Just put that old house on the market and come back, please. I need you here!”
I pulled the phone from my ear and looked at it. Torn between what I wanted—no, needed from her—and the fact that she sounded so desperate and delicate.
“Ma.” I couldn’t go to her now.
“What?” she spat.
Surprised at how her tone changed. I asked, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. She left you money, right? You can book a flight. Please .”
I didn’t know what to make of her sudden change in demeanor. “Where’s Patience?”
Ma started crying. Her sniffling pricked at my guilt for leaving in the first place. This erratic behavior was alarming. She knew I didn’t like to see her upset and that I would acquiesce when her emotions flared. This time, I couldn’t bring myself to simply submit. Standing my ground, I let her cry for a few moments without comforting her.
“Hold on. Let me get Patience on the phone.”
“No! Just forget it.” Her voice turned harsh again, like the tears had suddenly dried up. “I love you, Holland. You have always been my baby girl.” Ma hung up the phone.
I blinked repeatedly, looked at the phone as if answers to my mother’s strange behavior would come from the screen.
I dialed Patience. She picked up on the first ring. “Hey, sis,” I said, keeping my voice steady. I flopped on the couch and folded my legs under me. “Are you home?” I asked, worried.
“Yeah. I’m in my room. Why?”
“Ma was acting strange and then hung up on me.”
“Last I checked, she was in her famous chair watching Netflix and chilling!” Patience cackled. “Let me go see if she’s still there.” Humming as she walked, I could hear Patience’s music decrease as the volume of Ma’s television show increased. “Ma, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I could hear through the phone that her tone was still sharp.
“Okay,” Patience said to her and then whispered to me, “Dang. She just snapped at me. Did you make her mad or something?”
“She’ll be fine.” I didn’t feel like going into details.
“Okay. I’m heading to my boyfriend’s house. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“A new one?”
“Just for tonight!” Patience’s bark-like laugh startled me. I wanted to laugh with her, but only had the energy for a light chuckle.
“Don’t have too much fun,” I warned.
“I will,” she giggled. “Love ya, sis.” She ended the call with a kissing sound.
After the call, I sat there puzzled. Shock, confusion, anger, and denial tangled and tightened in my chest and wrestled with the guilt of being over six hundred miles away. Ma’s behavior was telling.
I needed answers. Dealing with her over the phone wasn’t going to work. A face-to-face conversation was inevitable. That would have to wait until I got back down south. For now, all I had was the journal. I wanted to see if Aunt Goldie mentioned Ma again. As I grabbed the journal, an alarm sounded on my phone. It was time to put out the bags of clothes I’d set aside for the donation pickup. My raging curiosity would have to wait a little while longer.
With just over three weeks in Brooklyn and the first day almost over, I wasn’t sure how to get all three floors cleared out before leaving. I kept finding stuff I wanted to keep for myself.
Once I set the donation bags on the porch, I fixed a cup of tea, grabbed the journal, and sat cross-legged on the couch. Flipping through the pages, I found my way to where I’d left off just as my phone rang. Groaning, I rolled my eyes, but still looked to see who was calling and grabbed the phone when I saw Amy’s name and image.
“ Amy ,” I moaned, releasing a rush of frustration. She was just the person I needed to hear from. The sound of her voice always made me feel better.
“You okay, girl? I’m just checking in on you. Did you eat?”
“Yes, I did. My mother just asked the same thing.” I’d tell Amy everything I’d learned later. I had more information to gather.
“Because you forget,” she said.
“I don’t forget. I get busy and push it off, that’s all.”
“Until you’re ready to pass out!” That was her way of scolding me. “Make sure you eat and don’t be a homebody while you’re there. New York has great food, and there’s so much to see. I’ve always wanted to visit. Make these few weeks count. Who knows when you’ll ever get back there.”
“I’ll try,” I said, already feeling calmer. She’d been my safe place since we were little. “There’s so much for me to do. Anyway. Let me tell you about my latest findings. You won’t believe this.” I told her about the journal but kept the part about my mother to myself.
“Oh my goodness,” she squealed. “Is it scandalous?”
More than you could imagine . “Some of what I’ve read so far. I’m about to read more before bed.”
“Okay. Call me and tell me about anything juicy. With all that traveling around with celebrities, I’m sure there are some scandalous stories.”
“Hey!” I chuckled. “This is my elderly aunt we’re talking about,” I teased. “But I’ll let you know what I find.” Both of us laughed at how quickly I folded.
“Was she wealthy?” Amy asked.
“Not as much as you would expect. The attorney handling her estate took care of her medical bills. Cancer almost bankrupted her. The house is most of what she had left.”
“Wow,” Amy said, slow and long. “I’m glad you’re learning so much about your family. That’s really great.”
Amy was right. I smiled. “Me too.” I wanted to know it all. The good and the bad. The only information missing was details about my father. None of the information I’d found mentioned anything about him. No pictures—nothing. Was he even living? I wondered how I could find out more information about him. “Okay, girl. I want to read more before I get too tired. Love ya,” I said to Amy.
I never imagined the journey to step out of my comfort zone and live would lead to all of this. In about a week, I’d gone from feeling like a lonesome outsider to discovering intimate details about my family. I was insatiable now, needing to know everything—enticed by this scavenger hunt to find myself.
After Amy said good-night, I grabbed my still-steaming cup of chamomile tea and turned on the television for background noise. The journal read better than any novel I could remember until I had gotten to the parts that mentioned my mom. I debated whether to pick up from where I’d left off or get Ma back on the phone so she could plead her case. Deep breaths and a few false starts gave me the space to ready my heart and mind for what I’d find buried in the pages next.
I read a few pages and had to close the book. My poor aunt went through so much. Losing her husband to a tragic accident without realizing she was pregnant, then losing the baby. Wanting a family so bad, but never being able to have one. And then there was my mother and grandmother. The compounded sense of loss was staggering. I see why she clung to Ms. Elsie and Noble so much. They were the family she chose.
I covered my mouth, feeling my aunt’s pain, and fought back the urge to cry. I kept reading. Several pages later, I sat up straight, almost knocking the cooled cup of tea into my lap. I blinked, scanned the words again, and felt my chest tighten. What had I just read? I didn’t want to believe the perfect script in front of my eyes.
March 12, 1997
I can’t get in contact with Patricia. She hasn’t called me back. And now I’m getting a message that the number is no longer in service. No one in Aiken has seen her for weeks. It’s driving me crazy. I haven’t been able to sleep since I got back from the tour. Please, God, don’t let anything bad happen to my baby niece. I just had her room fixed up nice.
I’m heading south first thing in the morning to make sure Patty and Holland are okay.
I hate it there. Too many bad memories, but I have to find Holly. She’s the only family I have left. Help me find her, Lord.
A distant memory of Ma and me leaving a small white house flashed in my mind. Florence became the only home where my memories remained vivid. My heart caved into my stomach.