Chapter 2
The Weight of The Morning
After getting a few hours of sleep, I woke up, expecting to hear KJ moving about the house, getting ready for school.
Only the house was quiet. And he was everything but that during the morning hours.
Rolling over, I reached for my phone to check the time and was greeted by a text notification from him.
Sonshine: Went to school.
The text was dry and forced. No “good morning” in the opening and no “I love you” at the end. Typical teenage boy shit. That didn’t stop me from responding as a mother – a Black mother.
Me: Good morning, son. I implore you to keep this same energy for Christmas in the next two weeks. My pockets have been begging for a break. See you at 6 p.m. sharp. Have a productive day. I love you.
The three dots jumped across the screen like he was going to respond then disappeared. He must’ve had second thoughts about what he wanted to say, and that was a good thing. I didn’t have the capacity to go back-and-forth with an emotional teenage terrorist anyway.
Setting my phone back down on my nightstand, I pulled my comforter from my body and sat up straight.
The muscles in my neck ached from the way I slept, so I headed straight for the shower.
Stripping out of my clothes, I turned the water on as hot as I could stand it and stepped inside.
As the hot water beat down on my back, I rolled my shoulders, feeling some of the tension releasing from my muscles.
This shower was longer than usual. The moment of solitude was needed.
Soaping up twice and rinsing off, I wrapped a towel big enough to fit two people around my body.
Wiping the steam from the mirror, I stared back at my reflection.
The last year had been an adjustment that I hadn’t seen coming, and the sudden need to pivot had taken a toll on me mentally, but I was grateful that it didn’t show up in my appearance.
My rich brown complexion was still bright, and my eyes were void of bags. That was a blessing.
Grabbing my facial wash, I began my ten-minute skin routine that kept me blemish free and many suitors questioning my age.
Once I achieved that perfect, glass look, I brushed my teeth and headed into the closet.
Quickly deciding on a cute but comfy look for the day, I put on a pair of fitted jeans, a cream-colored sweater, and slid my feet into a pair of Bottega sneakers.
Today was a routine visit with my father at the nursing home.
Like any other day, I prayed that I wouldn’t get there and have to wake the whole facility up about my daddy.
Fully dressed, I made up my bed, checked KJ’s room to make sure his was made up, then headed for the kitchen to put something on my stomach.
There was no telling when I’d stop to eat once I got moving.
Passing by the living room, I glanced over at the Christmas decorations I’d taken out and made a mental note to start putting stuff up later today.
My Christmas tree stood tall in all its green glory, equipped with a tree skirt but not one ornament in sight.
I’d been waiting on KJ to partake in ornament hanging, but he’d been so wrapped up in KJ land that I thought he’d missed the tree being up.
If I was honest, I wasn’t in the Christmas spirit this year.
I hated that for me because this was my holiday.
It was customary that my tree was up and the house gave Winter Wonderland the day after Thanksgiving.
Not this year. I wasn’t feeling it for many reasons.
I’d hoped that my father would be home by now, but we were still working at his rehab to get him more stable after his stroke.
Add on KJ’s schedule and keeping him on the right track, recovering from divorce, and navigating my new life as well as finances, it was a lot on ya girl. But still, I rise.
After a quick breakfast of rye toast, turkey sausage, and a cup of chai tea, I loaded the dishwasher and packed my bag for the day.
I planned to spend most of the day with my father, so I grabbed my iPad, journal, along with my wallet, keys, and phone.
Tossing everything into my Glamaholic tote bag, I combed my hair out and put on one of my puffer coats to fight the wind.
On my way out, I snatched up my Brümate cup and a pack of granola.
In my car was a dad kit that I always restocked after a visit with my father – a track suit, fresh underclothes, and toiletries.
Though he had things at the rehab facility, the staff did a piss poor job of doing what I asked in a timely manner, so it was my job to make sure that my father was up to par.
Getting in my car, I started it. While the engine warmed up, I connected my phone to call Danae.
Before I could tap her contact from my favorites, my phone rang with an incoming call.
The screen read Kaleb Sr. His contact had been listed under Disloyal Bastard up until a few months ago.
And that was because KJ had pointed it out as a joke.
I never wanted my son to see me as bitter, so I changed it quick.
I kept my communication brief with Kaleb.
KJ was a young adult who could report anything he had going on directly to his father.
If there was something I needed handled regarding him, I made sure that we discussed it during our first of the month debriefing.
Those calls were brief and consisted of me confirming that I’d received the funds for rent and any expenses related to KJ that he hadn’t already given him directly.
We’d had that call for December already, so I was curious to know why he was on my line now.
Sighing, I answered. “Hello.”
“Wassup, wifey?” he greeted jovially, quite the opposite of a man serving time.
“Not your wifey. How can I help you, Kaleb?”
Silence hung in the air before he answered. He was likely trying to gauge my mood. “I wanted to hit you to see if you had time to go over what we getting KJ for Christmas.”
I rolled my eyes. “We not getting him anything. You do you, and I’ma do me. Then we meet in the middle and make sure it’s a success. We don’t need to discuss it. KJ is fifteen.”
He let out an audible sigh and blew out a breath. “Why you gotta make it difficult to talk to you, Thyri?”
“I’m not,” I countered. “You’re just used to handling me as your wife and not the co-parent. Thyri the wife was more open to compromise and how things could accommodate you. Thyri the co-parent does what she feels is best and what ultimately works for her.”
“Well, tell Thyri the co-parent that she’s making co-parenting more difficult than it needs to be. I’ll get with KJ to see what he wants and have Koric bring it over. Does Thryi mind wrapping the gifts?”
“Thyri can… for the low price of $100,” I said seriously while pulling out of my parking spot.
“You love taxing a nigga.”
“Hey, alimony wasn’t a part of the divorce package, so it is what it is. Will that be all?” If I didn’t bring the conversation to a close, Kaleb would try to hold me hostage.
“I heard you were in the Bronx earlier this morning. What was that about?”
“Kaleb, if you’re asking, then you already know the answer.”
“I do. I just wanted to hear your logic for showing up in the projects that late, like shit ain’t always popping off over that way.”
“It’s exactly why I went to get our son who I hadn’t heard from.”
“Need I remind you that he was with my family? And he’s a fifteen-year-old young man who can handle himself.”
“You don’t get to monitor my parenting from behind the wall, Kaleb. I have no doubt that KJ can handle himself, but so long as he’s under my roof, he’ll do what I ask to avoid me making trips to the projects.”
“He can’t grow into a man if you don’t let him bump his head a few times, Thyri.”
“Yeah, well, a man keeps his word and handles his responsibilities. KJ gave me his word on something and did not follow through. If I gotta hold his ass to the fire about it, whoopty doo. The last thing I wanna do is go back-and-forth with you about it. Can I go now?”
If I let him, Kaleb would argue me down for forty days and forty nights about anything he deemed argument worthy.
Again, he went quiet.
“I don’t want you to think that just because I’m in here means that I’m not looking after our son wherever he is. That goes for you too. All I’m saying is you pulling up like that in the wee hours of the night is dangerous and needs not to happen again.”
“Until you have a conversation with KJ about how he moves, I’ll be doing what I have to do when I have to do it. I gotta go.”
“I can do that. Have a good day, Butterfly. I love you.”
I ended the call without responding. I knew I was pushing it with the way I was speaking to him.
A part of me felt like Kaleb was letting me get away with it because he still felt guilty about the demise of our marriage.
And he fucking should. Fumbling me was the worst thing he could have ever done.
Now, I had an attitude and didn’t feel like calling Danae.
Instead, I drove in silence, wanting to shake off my anger before I got to my dad.
After an almost two-hour drive, I arrived at Parker Jewish Institute in Queens.
The nursing home looked good on the outside, but on the inside, the care was mediocre, at least when it came to my standards for my father.
However, it was still considered the best out of the ones in his area that we had to choose from at the time.
I silently hoped that today wasn’t one of those days where I had to go off on anybody about his care plan. Well, the care plan I’d set for him.
While I expected them to be as unorganized as they usually were, what I saw instead had me seeing red and fighting back tears at the same time. My father was sitting in his wheelchair, in the middle of his room, in front of the TV, in nothing but a blanket and his boxers.
No socks. No t-shirt. Nothing.