Powerful Storms
Illusion or imagination…?
The last day of being an eighth grader was bittersweet.
I had fun, but I was soon going to have to fight my way back to the top as a high schooler.
Either way, I had the whole summer before that challenge had to be faced.
The first week of freedom was drama-free.
Noma was busy doing her online job. However, in the second week, we stumbled onto a very sensitive subject…
To no surprise, Noma was tending to her plants when I headed down the stairs from my loft bedroom. “For real, it’s starting to look like a forest in here.”
Mid-pour, Noma smiled up at me. “He used to say that, too.”
Suspecting I was going to like where this conversation was headed, I stopped my descent. “What?”
She went back to her plants in front of the living room windows. “Your dad. Whenever he wanted me to hear him, he always said ‘for real’.”
My chest tightened. Damn, how I loved hearing anything about him. And for me to be doing it also? Made my heart soar.
Making my way down again, I sat on the second-to-last step, then attempted to sound extremely casual. “By, uh, any chance is the, uh, librarian available?”
She peered over her shoulder with inquisitive yet accusing eyes and a smirk that gave me hope. “Hmm… for certain genres of books, possibly.”
I’ll take what I can get. “How old was Dad when you met him?”
When she stood up straight, her water pail hanging at her side, I realized it hurt for her to think of him. “He was nine.”
Treading carefully, so that Noma wouldn’t close the library, but also to spare her much pain, I softly asked, “When did he become more than some kid to you?”
I watched her throat bob as she took a seat on the small couch, where we watched movies together.
Placing the water canister on the old floors, her voice sounded strained.
“It didn’t take long to really care. Then we became quite close over the years.
” She didn’t offer more but stared at me, almost giving permission for more questions.
Hating to see an inch of pain on her face, I pressed on because my desperation for knowledge about the man was overpowering at times. “Were you happy when he became my mother’s—” I suddenly realized I had no idea what he was to her. A one-night stand? A husband?
Noma continued to stare at me, not willing to say more than she had to. That kind of pissed me off. Was it wrong of me to want to know about my parents?
I never asked many questions before Dad died, yes, because I didn’t want Noma to hurt, but also because I was young and thought every kid had a life similar to mine. Didn’t every kid have leathered uncles and live with their grandma? Apparently not.
Trying to disguise my growing frustration, I asked, “What was he to her?”
I was expecting a simple answer, not one that would punch me in the gut.
Deadpan, and not moving, she told me, “The love of her life. Her biggest mistake. A blessing that will live on within my soul, always.”
My jaw dropped into my lap. I was too young to understand the true depth of the strongest words ever spoken, but I was wise enough to understand they carried a weight that I would feel for the rest of my life.
They would affect me. Guide me, for all future decisions.
These words sounded like a storm… A curse with the power of the divine.
Whether or not my parents had been married no longer concerned me. No piece of paper or vow could ever contain such a nature of fates.
I guess I had been sitting there on the stairs, silent in thought for some time, because Noma finally nodded while exhaling. “Yes, the two of them were that intense.” She stared off to a memory she was about to share. “Yet, I thought it was best to separate them.”
My lungs shrieked with my sharp intake.
Her eyes drifted shut, causing a tear to be shed, a disaster that seemed too much to bear with how her voice suddenly shook. “I’m so grateful he found us in the end.” An audible cry escaped her. “At the end.” As if too ashamed to speak on, her eyes opened and looked at me.
I understood some of this. “So, my dad was there for my birth?”
She nodded. Again, shame so thick I could barely breathe.
Soul constricted, I still managed, “Did she want him there?”
Noma rested her elbows on her knees and laced her hands together. Fingers clutching each other, she nodded. “With everything in her being.”
I jerked back. “Why did you keep them apart?”
As her head fell forward and tears fell to her arms, I understood why the library had hours of operation. Not every second of the day offered the space needed to rehash such painful times.
I rushed to the woman I adored.
Quickly, I sat next to her and put my arms around her shaking form. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t lean into me. I think she was stuck in an agony that was blanketed with death. “Maddox, I’m the one who is sorry. For many things. I’m sorry that I viewed a betrayal to be enough to make bad decisions.”
I lay my head on top of hers. “You may know me better than anyone, but the same goes for me. I know your heart. It beats with honesty. It beats with the best of intentions. Always.”
Her head lifted to see me. Shock all over her wet face. “You are so beyond your years, baby boy.”
“See? That’s because of your heart.”
After a pause, staring at me, she wiped tears away. “Can I ask for a promise from you?”
I was learning to recognize when the library doors were closing. “I think so.”
Noma adjusted herself on the couch to face me. “Can you promise to try very hard not to let grudges own you?”
My jaw ticked. This subject had its own closing library doors. “Like who killed my dad.”
She grabbed my hands. “If you poke at a bee’s nest, what happens?”
Rolling my eyes, I pulled my hands away. “I went from beyond my years to a school child?”
Noma got up from the couch in a rush and stood in front of the coffee table, holding her stomach.
“I have been eaten alive by guilt, shame, and the need for righteousness when it never mattered. Don’t you understand?
” When I didn’t answer, she stomped her foot.
“What will, when you’re older and no longer under my roof, it serve to find men that wronged you? ”
I got up, too. “They took from me!”
She threw her hands into the air. Then yelled, “How do you know Lennox didn’t take from them first?”
That made me stop. “Did he?”
“I have no idea! That’s my point! Nor do you!”
I wanted to explode but wasn’t even sure why now. “Well… Well… Fuck!” I plopped back onto the couch that creaked under my weight.
Racing to my side, she sat too, grabbing my face. “Be wise. Think first. React when you’re sure it’s what you want. Every action causes a reaction. Be sure that’s the best for you and those you watch over.”
Blink. Blink. “Watch over?”
Her hands dropped from me and her shoulders caved. “I’m no fool. As much as I wish it weren’t so, I know you will have a club someday.” She huffed. “It’s in your DNA, baby boy.”
I felt my chest grow with pride. She knew me well. My own club? That felt right.
“Okay,” I said. “I promise.”
She sat up straight. “Yeah?”
“Yup! I promise to be ready for the repercussions before I slaughter the fuckers who killed my dad.”
She slapped her forehead. “Sweet baby Jesus, you’re impossible.”
“And you love stubborn asses!” Proud of myself, I smacked my hand on the coffee table until I noticed something. “Speaking of stubborn asses. What is that?” I asked Noma while pointing at a gift wrapped in shiny blue paper and a red bow.
“Huh?” She got up after grabbing her canister. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Still pointing, I warned, “That’s a birthday present, isn’t it?”
Back to watering her jungle, she blew me off. “You said you didn’t want to celebrate your birthday, but you never said we can’t celebrate the fact you were born.”
Completely annoyed at this woman’s trickery, I grumbled, “Noma, this is still—”
“Nope! Your birthday is not for two months. Stop baiting me for another fight.”
“I don’t want any reminders of National Death Day!”
“Your birthday has a purpose! And it’s not only people dying!”
“Ugh!” I flung myself back against the couch, refusing to open the present and grumbling words she ignored. Too young, I saw no other purpose but wisely kept from arguing further.
At least for tonight.
I forgot about the present until a few days later, when Noma surprised me with a cake. Well, to be exact, it wasn’t a cake. She made that very clear.
“What’s this?” I asked, pointing to the glass nine-by-thirteen-inch pan on the table. I was desperately trying to act unaffected, hoping the drool didn’t drip. But damn! Chocolate pudding, whipped cream, and crushed Oreo cookies with gummy worms stuck inside? Dirt dessert.
For real? More trickery?
“That?” She knew she had me. “Oh, I made your favorite.”
I pursed my lips together. “Because?”
“We’re celebrating your life date.”
Life date? “You mean my birthday!” I accused.
“It’s not a birthday cake.” Noma shrugged her slender shoulders. Too slender.
Is she losing more weight? “But it’s for my birthday.”
Noma’s eyes narrowed. “Life. Date.” She gestured to the chair at the dining table that didn’t see nearly as much use as the nook where she usually passed snacks and meals, as I sat on one of the stools. “Sit down.”
Because I valued my head still stuck on my neck, I listened, but I didn’t like it. Mumbling under my breath, I couldn’t resist pointing out that it was still three months away.
“Shush.” She walked to a cabinet and opened it, yanking out two bowls, two spoons, and a big serving spatula which she placed on the table. “Don’t move.”