Chances Are, page 17
“It wouldn’t be the first one.”
“So your plan is to what, multiply it?”
“I can’t do it, Terri. It’s just that simple, not at the risk of hurting Niyah. I won’t do it.”
“Fine. Subject closed.”
“Thanks for getting the tape on the air. I appreciate it.”
“It’s what I do,” she said blandly.
“Are you coming to Chances for the Christmas Eve party?” she asked, wanting to change the subject and soothe what she knew wore Terri’s aggravated nerves.
“Sure. When is Niyah coming home?”
“She’ll be here this weekend. Just three more days,” she added forcing herself to cheer up. “I can’t wait to see her. I know it’s only been a few weeks since she was here, but it still seems like forever.”
Terri smiled. “I have to remember to pick up her gift. I think she’ll love it.”
“What is it?”
“A portable CD player. I know she loves music as much as you do, and everybody and their mother has a Walkman.”
Dione smiled. “That would be perfect for her.”
“Dee, I just want to say one thing. You can’t go through life continuing to protect Niyah from its realities. I know it’s a ‘mother thing,’ but it’s not fair to her.”
Hadn’t Betsy said almost the same thing to her about the girls? She knew they were both right. But…
“I’ve got to run. I’ll talk with you soon, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Think about what I said. Bye.”
Dione listened for a moment to the dial tone humming in her ear before she hung up the phone.
She wanted to call Garrett, to tell him how stupid she was to let go of what they were building. She wanted to share her load with him, ease her burden. But at the risk of losing the love and respect of the one person in the world who loved her unconditionally—she couldn’t.
She turned away from the phone and went back to washing dishes.
The days before Christmas were always an enjoyable time, full of excitement, laughter and cheer. Dione would put her entire self into making the day as festive as possible, purchasing gifts for the children and something really special for each of the girls; organizing the decorating party who would hang garland, tinsel and wreaths from every available space in the house, making sure that everyone’s refrigerator was stocked and that there was more than enough food for the huge meal that they all prepared and shared together. Each year they would all go in mass to select the perfect tree and Betsy would work with the toddlers to create ornaments to hang on its branches. And Dione took as much time and effort with her own home, wanting to make it special for Niyah and Betsy.
During the holiday season, Dione was one whirlwind of enthusiasm. And Niyah immediately noted the lack of it the instant she walked into her mother’s un-Christmas-like apartment.
Her hazel eyes, looked quickly around as she dropped her bags on the floor. She couldn’t believe what she wasn’t seeing. Sure she’d come home two days early to surprise her mother and get in on all the fun of preparations, but she was certain that her early arrival had nothing to do with the state of her mother’s house. Where was the smell of evergreen?
She hung her spare set of keys on the hook behind the door and walked slowly inside. Maybe her mother had all the decorations in a box somewhere waiting for her to come home from school so they could decorate together.
After a thorough search, she soon realized that wasn’t the case.
Niyah plopped down on the couch. Coming home for Christmas was the equivalent of being a little girl again, when she would run home from school, rush through the apartment and see the tiny artificial tree gleaming in the middle of the makeshift living room. The one bright spot in the otherwise neat, but dreary apartment. And her heart would run a race to the tree and try to sneak a peek at the brightly colored packages that her mother had tucked beneath.
Someone had stolen Christmas.
“When are we going to start decorating around here?” Betsy complained when Dione came into the child-care room to check on the children.
“I was thinking of letting you and Brenda handle it. Maybe appoint one of the girls to be in charge.” She bent down to pick up Gina’s little girl Brandy. She kissed her soft cheek and twisted a wayward braid around her finger.
Betsy looked at her out of the corner of her eye. “Brenda! Since when does Brenda take care of the festivities around here? And you know I ain’t got the time with these babies down here.”
Dione put Brandy back in the playpen. “I’m sure Brenda can handle it.”
“Why aren’t you handling it is the question?” She eyed her suspiciously.
“Maybe I’m finally doing what you suggested and letting them stand on their own two feet.”
“If I thought that for a minute we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation.”
“That’s my decision, Betsy. I need to concentrate on other things right now.”
“Like that man, Garrett?”
Dione turned away. “That’s not something I want to discuss. I’ve got to go.”
She walked out of the room, into her office and shut the door. Something she never did. No sooner than she’d sat down her phone rang. Only two people had her direct line. Niyah and Garrett.
She hesitated for a moment, then picked up.
“This is Dione Williams.”
“Hi, Ma.”
“Niyah! Hi, honey. Where are you?”
“At the apartment.”
Dione frowned. “I thought you weren’t coming until the weekend.”
“I thought I’d come today and surprise you. But I was the one surprised. What’s going on? I mean Christmas is less than a week away.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, stalling for time. She’d been so absorbed in her own self-pity she’d totally forgotten how much Niyah looked forward to the sights and sounds of the holidays.
“What happened, or didn’t happen to the apartment? Where’s all the stuff? This isn’t like you.”
“Oh.” She chuckled nervously. “I just thought I’d do something different and wait until you got home so we could do everything together.”
Niyah listened to the words, but to her ears they didn’t ring true. “Hmm.”
“When did you get in?” she segued.
“About twenty minutes ago. Ma, is there something that you’re not telling me? You sound funny.”
“Just overworked as usual. But I’ll be fine. Especially since you’re home. I’ll fix something special for dinner unless you want to go out. We could do that,” she rushed on.
“I think I’d rather stay in, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. Whatever you want is fine with me.”
“So I guess I’ll see you when you get home.”
“About six.”
“All right. See you then.” Niyah disconnected the call and immediately dialed Chances Are. Brenda picked up on the second ring.
“Hi, honey. You’re back or on your way in? Your mom is downstairs.”
“I’m home. Decided to come home early. I just spoke to my mother. But I really want to speak to you.”
“Sure, honey. What is it?”
“Is something wrong with my mother? And you know you can tell me.”
Brenda hesitated for a moment, debating about what to say. “I’m not really sure,” she admitted. “I can tell you this—she’s not herself.”
“Hmm. Is Chances just as barren as my house?” she asked, taking another depressed look around.
“The Christmas spirit has not arrived.”
“Is Ms. Betsy available?”
“I’ll buzz her. Hold on.”
“Niyah. I know you’re not calling me all the way from Washington,” Betsy chastised as soon as she heard Niyah’s voice.
“No, Ms. Betsy. I’m home. But I wanted to talk to you before my mother came in.”
“Oh.” Betsy peered over her shoulder, checking for any signs of Dione. “It’s that man. I just know it is,” she whispered as she rocked Denise’s son on her hip.
Niyah frowned. “What happened?”
“I ain’t sure, but knowing your mother she probably told him to take a hike and now she’s sorry.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Getting too close.”
“Too close to what?”
“To her. To the truth of who she is.”
“I don’t understand—”
“Niyah, honey, I think it’s about time that I told you a few things about your mother. I ain’t never been one to run from the truth. Always believed you needed to stand up to it at all costs.” She clucked her tongue. “But your mama always believed she was protecting you.”
“Protecting me? From what?”
“From reality. The real world.”
For a moment, Betsy debated about the right and wrong of what she was about to do. She’d been Dione’s mother, father, protector and confidant for nearly eighteen years. She’d been there to hold Dione when she cried for her mother, fed her when she was hungry and took care of her and Niyah when they were sick—stuck an extra dollar or two in her pockets when she knew Dione was between checks. And that life, that special relationship she’d developed with Dione and then with Niyah, was sacred to her. But sometimes you had to break promises to the ones you loved, simply because you loved them.
She took a long breath, sat down and bounced Denise’s son on her thigh. “Now I want you to listen and listen good. I swore to your mama years ago that I would never breathe a word of this to another soul. Especially to you. It’s time I broke my promise.” She blew out a breath. “Your grandparents, they ain’t dead…”
Niyah listened, stunned, for more than a half hour to a story she’d only read about in newspapers or heard whispered among the girls at Chances. Never in her wildest dreams would she have believed that her mother had been through what she did and was still able to rise above it. What was most telling was that for all her sacrifices: financial, emotional, physical and personal, she’d done it all for her. To protect her from the fact that she’d never been wanted by her grandparents. Those same people who had given her mother life had tried to beat the life out of her, then tossed her in the street like an old pair of shoes. Protect her from feeling that she was less than worthy, because Dione was made to feel that way, and therefore any child she bore. She never wanted Niyah to, in any way, feel responsible for anything that happened to them over the years because of a single decision she’d made one spring night. And even to keep Niyah from knowing, she had been willing to jeopardize Chances Are and lose Garrett in the process.
Tears ran unchecked down Niyah’s cheeks. How could anyone love another person that much? But she knew now that it was possible and she was the recipient of that unwavering love.
“She thought you’d never forgive her for lying to you all these years, from keeping things from you. You’re the most important thing in your mother’s life, Niyah.”
“I know,” she choked, sniffing back her tears. “And it’s time she realized that I feel the same way about her.”
Chapter 18
“I think we have all the footage we need for the piece,” Jason said to Garrett as he turned off the monitor. He rolled his neck and rubbed his eyes, which were red and tired from hours of staring at the screen.
“Yeah, looks that way. I’ll just be glad to get this project out of the way.” Garrett snapped on the light.
“We still need to shoot the Christmas party. That will give it the final touch. Jerk a few tears from the viewers.” He chuckled and stretched.
“You can probably handle it on your own,” Garrett said, getting up from the stool. “Or take one of the guys with you.”
Jason frowned. “You’re not coming?”
“Naw. Got things to do.”
“On Christmas Eve? You? You haven’t celebrated a holiday for as long as I’ve known you. All you do is work. You and Dione planning a getaway?” he snickered.
“Is that all you ever think about?” he snapped, opening cassette boxes and putting the tapes inside.
“What’s wrong with you? You been snappin’ and snarlin’ like a pit bull for days and quite frankly, it’s getting tired.”
“Then why don’t I just get out of your way. I’ll see you later.” He snatched his jacket from the back of the hook on the door and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
When he got outside he was met by a bone-chilling drizzle. And he realized he’d left his cap in the office. He started to turn around and go back, but then he was certain he’d run into Jason and then he’d have to apologize, or possibly continue what Jason began. He wanted to do neither.
Holding his head down, which didn’t help, because the water just ran down his neck, he strode down the block toward his car, cursing under his breath. He felt as if he wanted to explode, to lash out and hit someone like when he’d been a kid and he’d been taunted or was feeling unusually lonely. Back then he could beat people up, get his frustrations out and the worst that would happen is that he’d be sent to his room, or to the principal, or to a counselor. He couldn’t pull that anymore. Now he’d get sent to jail.
So what he’d done over the years was pour his frustrations into blinding hours of work, work and more work, to the exclusion of everything else. Then he took up jogging and when work no longer eased the voids, he ran.
He felt like running now and to just keep going. Watching Dione, the house, the girls on the screen for hours had been his own undoing. He’d convinced himself over the past couple of weeks that it didn’t matter, that she didn’t matter.
It was a lie.
She did matter. More than he’d wanted her to, and he was paying for it. What bothered him more than anything, seeped down to his bones and chilled him like the falling icy rain, was that he didn’t understand why. Why did he have to keep paying for wanting to be cared about? Especially now when he was finally learning to care in return?
He turned up the collar of his coat and started to run, slowly at first, then faster. He ran right past his car and kept going.
Garrett was soaked and exhausted by the time he reached home. Foolishly he’d run through the rain until he couldn’t run anymore and finally had come back to his car.
He started stripping out of his clothes the instant he closed his door behind him. Grabbing a towel from the closet on his way to the bathroom, he rubbed it through his hair.
“What was I thinking about?” he grumbled, already feeling the aches from the cold rain settling in his muscles. He turned the shower on full blast and as hot as he could stand it. He stood under the steaming water for a good ten minutes before the chill finally left his body.
Stepping out he heard the faint ringing of the phone. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stalked into his bedroom and snatched it up.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Lawrence?”
His brow crinkled. “Yes,” he answered with hesitation. It was too late for creditors to be calling and besides the voice sounded a bit too young yet vaguely familiar.
“This is Niyah…Williams. Dione’s daughter.”
His stomach knotted. “Hi. How are you?”
“Fine. I’ll get right to the point of my call. I know this may be out of line, but if I don’t do it, I know my mother never will.”
He rubbed his head with the towel and sat down on the end of the bed. “I’m listening.”
“I don’t know what happened between the two of you, and it’s probably none of my business. But what is my business is my mother’s happiness and right now she’s not happy, and I know it has to do with you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. My mother is a very proud woman, Mr. Lawrence. And that makes her stubborn. She spends so much time trying to do the right thing for everyone else she forgets about herself.”
Garrett twisted his mouth as he listened, not really wanting to hear it, but trying to be polite. “Go on.”
“I want to do something special for her.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“I’d like you to be there. I know you’re planning on shooting the Christmas Eve party—”
“I wasn’t planning on coming. Jason is going to shoot the final footage.”
“I know I’m in no position to ask favors of you, Mr. Lawrence. But please be there. If you ever cared about my mother, please just come. It’s important.”
“I can’t make any promises, Niyah. Your mother, we—let’s just say I can’t make any promises.”
She blew out a breath in frustration. “At least think about it.”
“Yeah. I’ll think about it.”
“Thanks. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Slowly Garrett hung up the phone. Why would he want to do anything special for Dione after the way she’d simply dismissed him from her life? Bet her daughter didn’t know about that.
He stretched out on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. If you ever cared about my mother, please come, Niyah’s voice echoed.
“I still do,” he uttered in answer. “But I won’t put myself through that again. Not even for Dione.”
By the time Dione arrived at her house, the rain had turned to a driving, icy sleet. Just the short walk from the car to the house had chilled her to her soul. When she walked into the warmth of her apartment that welcomed and wrapped around her like a down comforter, and to the smell of chicken baking in the oven, her entire body gave out a sigh of joy.
“Niyah,” she called shaking out her coat before hanging it on the outside of the closet to dry.
“I’m in the kitchen.” In the time since she’d spoken to Betsy, she’d had the opportunity to pull herself together and collect her thoughts. She had no intention of mentioning her conversation with Ms. Betsy to her mother. If Dione could keep secrets, so could she.
Dione hurried into the kitchen, truly happy to see her daughter. “Hey, sweetie,” she beamed, and gathered Niyah for a hug. “This is a pleasant surprise, but I would have cooked.” She kissed her cheek, then ruffled her short hair.
