57/Renee
I glanced down at my lap again at my directions, making sure I was heading the right way. My brother had moved to a new house and had invited us over for Thanksgiving weekend.
Lisa would be so proud of me.
In the last five months my life had changed so much.
Quinton got a full athletic scholarship to play football for Purdue.
I was so proud of him, but it was hard to get used to my son not being around.
Tamara was on the honor roll again. She had started her senior year and was still a member of the National Honor Society.
I couldn’t complain. Both my kids were doing the damn thang.
“Mama, I think that’s his house over there.”
I stopped in front of a brown two-story house with a wraparound porch and put the car in park. My heart was pounding. I was so nervous.
Tamara turned to me wearing a strange look. “Mama, are we getting out?”
I wanted so badly to tell her no and put my car back in drive and peel away from my brother’s house, but I had made a promise, both to my sister and to God, that I would see this day through, and I was going to do just that.
Even if it killed me.
“Yes, we’re getting out.”
I turned the car off. I opened the door and slowly pulled myself out of the vehicle.
“Mama, you need help?”
I shook my head. I refused to be a victim. The last few months had been a rough, long ride.
Regina had shot me in the face and arm. The main nerve in my face was damaged so the muscles on the left side of my face sag and I can’t close my eye.
The second bullet hit the upper left arm, so I’ve lost all mobility.
It’s totally useless. I just thank God it wasn’t my right arm, otherwise I would have had to retrain myself to write.
Typing with one hand was bad enough. My voice recognition software no longer worked because I slurred when I spoke and most times I slobbered as well.
Despite my handicap, life was good. I had a strong support group.
Kayla is happily married to Jermaine. Nadine and Jordan are the mothers of twins, Tristan and Trinity.
Danielle is taking her medicines, receiving counseling, and learning how to be a survivor. Calvin had been beside her every step of the way. The man never wavered. They’ll be tying the knot next month, and I’m her matron of honor. Best of all, Calvin didn’t contract the virus. Thank God.
As for the rest of the drama, nobody has seen Chance, not even his baby’s mama.
A week after Danielle discovered she was HIV positive, Ron was found floating face up in the Missouri River.
Nobody cried much when they found him. All of us suspected Kee had something to do with it, especially after the way he went off when he found out who had infected his baby sister.
But none of us would ever breathe a word of it.
As far as we were concerned, he was with us that night.
Last I heard, Regina was locked away in a psychiatric hospital somewhere. Which was probably for the best, because that crazy bitch needed way more help than anyone could ever give her.
“Mama, Uncle Andre’s house is pretty.”
I returned my mind to the present and stared up at my brother’s house.
It was true. Big, spacious, with over an acre of land, and high maintenance.
Little brother was doing quite well, but then I wasn’t surprised.
I had a house twice that size while I was still married to John.
Now I had something that money couldn’t buy, a peace of mind and a promising future.
Something that months ago was quite uncertain.
There was a Cadillac in the driveway that I knew belonged to my daddy. He’d been buying them for as long as I could remember. In front of it was Janet’s sports car. She worked as a Mary Kay consultant and being that her vehicle was pink, she was quite good.
Tamara rang the doorbell and by the time I managed to reach the wide porch, my sister-in-law had come to the door to answer it.
“Hello,” she greeted with a wide smile and hugs for both me and Tamara. I returned the hug. She had always been nice to me. “I’m so glad you made it.”
I released her, then smiled. “I’m glad to be here,” I said, then swiped my mouth with the rag I carried around. The last thing I wanted to do was drool all over her house.
She opened the door wide, then took the cake from Tamara and signaled us to follow her down a wide hallway to the family room where the family was waiting.
There was loud voices and laughter. My nephew raced down the hall and I managed to scoop him up with my good arm and gave him a big wet kiss before his spoiled behind wiggled free of my hold and hurried to find his daddy.
Taking a deep breath, I moved into the room to find my brother sitting on the sofa and my father sitting in the chair across from him.
As soon as I saw him I gasped. Paul looked nothing like the man I last saw at Lisa’s funeral.
But that had been almost four years ago.
He was thin, very thin. With a smile on his face, he rose and moved toward me.
I could tell that he was moving much slower.
His hair, what little he had, had all turned gray and his eyes looked tired and his cheeks sunken.
It took all I had not to cry. Chemo was taking its toll on him.
Andre told me that while I was in a coma, Daddy sat there in my room, reading and talking to me. I don’t remember any of that but I was glad to know he really did care about me. It was then that I realized I needed to forgive him and give our relationship a chance.
“I’m glad you came,” Paul said, wrapping his arms around me.
The tears started falling before I could stop them.
For years I had blamed him.
For years I had blamed everybody.
Mama for leaving.
Paul for not loving me enough.
John for betraying me.
Men for disappointing me.
Life for being hard.
I stood there in my father's arms and suddenly realized how tired I was of carrying all that hurt around.
Daddy cried too. The strong man who never cried. The man I spent most of my life trying to understand.
When we finally pulled apart, neither one of us tried to explain the past.
There wasn't any need.
Some wounds never completely heal.
But forgiveness wasn't about pretending something never happened.
It was about finally deciding not to let it control you anymore.
Andre walked over and wrapped an arm around Daddy.
Janet joined him.
Then Tamara.
Before long we were all standing there together.
A family.
Not perfect.
Not even close.
But together.
And for the first time in a very long time, that felt like enough.
I looked around the room and thought about Lisa.
About how much she loved us.
About how hard she had always fought to keep us together.
A smile touched my lips. “We made it, sis,” I whispered.
And somehow, I think she already knew.