Saving Sunflower (The Sun Series), page 40
“Grandpa, no!” she shouted. “We have to go inside.”
She’d planned for that day for the past two weeks. Autumn and Dominic thought it was a terrible idea—both having their own reasons. Autumn thought it was too risky. She claimed it could have sent George to an early grave. Dominic said that it was the most pussy way to meet her grandpa.
“Baby, I’m supposed to go to him as a man and explain what I did. I’m locked up like a fucking animal and you bringing him to see me like this. It’s bad enough that you got to come up here while you carrying my child. That shit is embarrassing,” he’d said.
She covered George’s hand with hers and tried to force the gear back in park. It was stupid, but they couldn’t leave.
“Stop it!” He flung her hand off and put the gear back in park. “I can’t believe this shit. Have you lost your mind while away at that school? Did somebody hit you upside your head or something? There’s got to be a reason for this.”
She reached forward and shoved her phone in her bag, knowing she couldn’t bring it in. There was hardly anything she could bring in—just herself, Evie, and her ID.
“Nobody hit me upside my head grandpa,” she said, fishing through her backpack for her ID.
“I ain’t going in no damn jail, Claudette. I ain’t never been in one before and I ain’t going in one now.” He shook his head back and forth.
She found the ID, grasping it in her hand, and reaching for the door handle. She breathed heavily, unsure of what to say or do to get him inside with her.
“Please, grandpa,” she wheezed out. “We can’t be late going in or they won’t let me see him.”
Her eyes burned from holding back her tears, and he still hadn’t moved. His face balled up in anger.
“I can’t believe this shit,” he said. “Bryson probably rolling over in his grave.”
He hit the steering wheel. “In jail? You go and get pregnant while you supposed to be here getting an education, and it’s with some no-good punk that’s in jail!”
She had never seen him so angry—not even when she’d cracked the screen of his brand new flat-screen playing volleyball in the house.
“How you even meet this loser?” He turned to her, wiping at his face. “Have you even thought any of this shit through? Life ain’t gone be kind to a little black girl with a baby in tow and no daddy around.”
She squeezed the hard ends of the ID card. The pain of it jabbing into the soft folds of her hand hardly registered to her. She thought about all of those things, but she’d pushed them into the back of her mind.
“Grandpa... I’m begging you. Please, just come in,” she rasped. “I can’t go in without you.”
Seeing George inside of a jail was like being in the Twilight Zone. He couldn’t wipe the distraught expression off of his face, and his movements were clumsy and robotic at the same time. They hardly talked to each other except for when they took the elevator up to the floor where the jail held visitation.
“How in the hell did you even meet this dude?” he asked again in bewilderment.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor while she rested a hand on her stomach where Evie did somersaults like she could sense the tension between the two of them.
“It’s a long story grandpa,” she replied, looking straight ahead at the elevator doors.
It really wasn’t a long story—just a complicated one full of ups and downs. She could hardly believe that any of it happened until she would look down and see her protruding stomach.
“This dude must be a piece of work.” George shook his head with his mouth turned down in disgust.
Claudette wanted to defend Dominic, but her words stayed tucked inside of her, wanting to burst out—she knew better though.
They stayed quiet until they sat in the cold metal chairs in front of the camera in the visitation room. George kept shifting his body and turning his head to stare at the other people that roamed the room visiting their loved ones.
Her leg jumped up and down as she waited on Dominic’s face to pop on the screen. She gripped the phone to her ear as if it would make him come on the screen faster. She felt George’s hard eyes on the side of her face.
Just as her palms were growing moist, the camera beeped and Dominic was staring at the two of them. She sucked in a breath at the weary expression he wore. He looked tired yet handsome—even while in desperate need of a haircut and shave.
“Hi…” she said, sitting up to get closer to the screen.
He smiled first and then his eyes shifted over to George, who sat stoically next to her.
“Hi, my favorite girl.” He talked to her but looked at George. “Give him the phone baby.”
34
GEORGE WAS STIFF, and his expression gave away his thoughts. He frowned a deep frown that drew his mouth downward. Even the low quality of the camera couldn’t hide his disappointment.
“You know how this looks young man?” he asked.
He had a deep southern drawl that matched his outer appearance. The phone stuck to his ear stiffly and Claudette scooted closer to him, trying to hear what was being said between the two of them.
“Yes sir. I do.”
Dominic knew better than to say anything different.
“I can’t believe this.” He sat forward like he was attempting to get a better look at Dominic. “Can’t believe I’m here right now having to do this.”
“I promised her daddy that if anything happened to him I’d do everything in my power to take care of her.” He kept the same hardened expression on his face. “So when he died... I took care of her real good. I ain’t no millionaire, but she always been comfortable—ain’t never had to want for a thing. In return, she hardly gave me any trouble. She a good girl.”
He choked on his words a little, and Dominic struggled to keep listening.
“I still remember the day she was born.” His voice cracked. “The nurses kept fussing over her, saying she was the prettiest baby that had been born that day—like a lil' ole’ chocolate baby doll with a bunch of hair.”
“This girl been my partner in crime since she was a lil' bitty thing.” He shook his head. “I’m just tryna understand what a fella like you would want with my little girl. She bring me to a damn jail talking about she got a surprise for me and it turns out, it ain’t no surprise. It’s a damn nightmare.”
Dominic swallowed the heavy lump in his throat. Claudette reached forward for the phone but pulled back.
“I sent her to school to get an education, learn some responsibility, and maybe have a little fun. I’m old school, so I’d been hoping she’d meet a nice guy who’d treat her right. Somebody getting an education too.” He pulled the phone away from his mouth for a second and then moved it back. “But... but somewhere along the way she met you and I guess she fell in love or like. I’m still trying to figure that shit out.”
George had said so much that his head spun. He’d highlighted all the reasons he didn’t deserve Claudette or Evie. He’d done it politely, in a better way than what he would do if Evie ever brought home a guy like him.
He and Claudette came from different worlds and would have to learn how to navigate parenthood together. They both had come from broken homes, but she’d at least had a support system in George whereas he was his family’s support system.
“So now what? I guess I got to pick up the pieces you left scattered about. Take care of my granddaughter and your child while you sit in here for God knows what? ‘Cause she ain’t got no money to take care of no baby.”
“No,” Dominic replied sternly.
He kept having to remind himself that George wasn’t some nigga from the streets that was stepping on his toes. He was Claudette’s grandfather—his baby’s great-grandfather.
“With all due respect, sir, I can take care of my own.” He sat forward and looked at Claudette. “I ain’t never asked a motherfu— a person for nothing, and I don’t plan on starting now.”
Claudette gripped her stomach.
“Is that right? And how you plan on doing that?”
“It ain’t about the how,” Dominic replied. “It’s the fact that I’m good on my word.”
“Young man, it’s most definitely about the how. I’m sitting in a jail talking to you, so I know whatever how you talking about ain’t legal.” George raised his finger, pointing at him through the camera.
“The safety of my grandchildren is the most important thing to me. You got that?”
It was the most important thing to Dominic too.
“Yes sir,” he replied, looking down at the floor.
The line went quiet. Neither of them said anything else. They were just breathing and letting the time draw down. He knew Claudette was crying because it was all she did. She cried when she was happy, when she was sad, when she was excited—this time she just seemed confused.
He and Polo had talked about the possible outcomes of the visit since Claudette first told him what she’d planned to do. They tried to come up with a response for every scenario, but it hadn’t mattered because you could never prepare enough for something so fragile.
George was angry, and he had every right to be because he probably had Claudette’s future planned since she was a toddler. She was supposed to marry a lawyer or a doctor and have an easy but fulfilling job like being a teacher. She’d only work because she wanted to, not because she had to. They’d have two kids—a boy and a girl, and she’d drive some soccer mom SUV. Those were probably George’s thoughts, but they were Dominic’s too.
“I know I ain’t the guy you planned for her to fall in love with,” he mumbled, watching her wipe her tears. “Truthfully, I ain’t plan on falling in love with her either.”
“Is that right?” George asked tersely.
“She make it easy to love her, but I’m sure you know that. You been there all her life.” Claudette was looking at him like it was killing her she couldn’t hear his voice. “I ain’t have no nice childhood. I didn’t even finish high school. My mama’s dead. I don’t know who my daddy is—she ain’t know either. I’ve done a lot of shit I ain’t proud of. I’ve made stupid decisions all my life. I’m full of anger. I’m tired. I been taking care of people since I was a lil' boy. Never had no parent to sit me down and show me how to do simple shit—explain to me what’s right and what’s wrong. I just got an aunt who like to bitch me out about the shit I do, but I can’t even trust her to keep the lights on at home.
“But Claudette... she see the good in me when other people look at me and see nothing. She patient with me because she understand that I’m broken. And we both know it ain’t her job to fix me, but damn if she don’t patch up what she can.” He laid a hand on his heart. “I ain’t even believe in love until she came along. It wasn’t because I felt like I was too hard for it or nothing like that, it was because I ain’t think I deserved for nobody to love me like she loves me. And to be truthful sir—I still don’t.”
George’s face softened some—not completely, but some. His shoulders sagged a little, and he looked at Dominic intensely.
He didn’t know what had made him bare his soul to George. He guessed it was because Claudette had come from him, so he saw her within George.
“Her and that baby saved me. They saved my life.”
~End~
35
WINTER 2019
The furnace at Diane’s never warmed the house enough. It was so awful that the hardwood floors held onto the cold and refused to let go even when the sun came out. Claudette was curled in a ball, dressed in two of Dominic’s sweatshirts, leggings, and compression socks that Diane had bought her while out running errands. Her large stomach and the soft pregnancy pillow she slept with took up half of Dominic’s small bed. Evie had finally calmed, and she’d just drifted off into a deep slumber when Diane flung the door open.
“Get up lil' girl,” she said, walking to the window and pulling the cord of the blinds.
Light shone throughout the room, and Claudette groaned because she never let her sleep in. She laid still, hoping Diane would leave, but she didn’t. She walked over to the bed and hovered over her.
“You know, Dominic used to pretend like he was sleep when I’d come wake him up for church.” She brushed her wild hair back.
Since being pregnant, it had grown out into an enormous mass of coils that she couldn’t tame. Diane sometimes combed it out and styled it into twists she’d wear for weeks at a time. The night before, Claudette had taken them out, leaving it in long crinkles she hadn’t bothered to cover before falling asleep.
“You know what I used to do when he wouldn’t get up?” she asked with a hint of amusement in her voice. “I used to pop the bottom of his feet.”
Claudette felt her going toward her sock covered feet, and she shot up as fast as Evie would let her.
“I’m up!” she giggled.
“Mhm, hurry before Jo eat all the breakfast.” She coughed and walked towards the bedroom door.
“You cooked already?” Claudette tossed the Oakland Raiders blanket from her body and slid from the bed.
Her frame was still small, but her stomach kept growing. It was so large that it sometimes overtook her body and worried George. It hadn’t taken long for him to come around to Evie, but he still fussed about her parents. Dominic wasn’t Dominic, but that no-good punk that had gotten his granddaughter pregnant and he was convinced Claudette would work herself into an early labor juggling class, work, Dominic’s budding career and a pregnancy.
“Yup, we have to get on the road soon.” Claudette nodded, wiping the sleep from her eyes and shuffling to her feet. “Don’t worry, I’ll have your butt in there tonight. We can make your favorite.”
Dominic’s favorite things were now her favorite things. There weren’t many, just sweet cornbread, his music, and obsessing over each one of her pregnancy milestones.
She turned his room into a tiny haven for she and Evie. She had filled half of it with things for Evie—a bassinet, a treasure chest filled with her newborn clothing, boxes of diapers in every size, toys and bottles. She filled the other half with filing cabinets full of paperwork and plaques that rested against a wall. An iMac sat on the floor in the corner because she hadn’t had time to buy a desk to put it on. It was where she and Tony had spent sleepless nights piecing together Dominic’s mixtape. It was also where she’d met with Deon Conner, the man that had been messaging Dominic while he was away in jail.
He was an A&R for a distribution company interested in partnering with Dominic to release his music. Dominic didn’t receive an advance for millions of dollars like he would have from a traditional record label, but he could keep full ownership of his music. The company was a small startup that gave Dominic—well, Claudette and Tony, free rein over his image and music.
She finally called Deon one day after arguing with Dominic for still believing in his music. She wanted to prove him wrong—show him that his music still mattered, so she sent Deon a message first, scheduling a time for them to talk over the phone. He’d answered expecting Dominic but let out a surprised laugh when he heard Claudette’s raspy voice questioning his legitimacy.
He explained that they would do the distribution work and Dominic would only be responsible for churning out the music and splitting a part of his earnings with them. It worked because he remained independent with no ties to anyone. With the help of Deon and his company, Dominic’s visibility skyrocketed. People that had already been fans of his work gobbled the new music they released. His new fans became obsessed with his sound and advocated for his release.
Claudette and Tony combed through hours of Dominic’s recordings—only being able to work with what he created before he’d gone away. They even ventured back to the scratchy low-quality songs from when he was a teenager. Many of them weren’t even songs, just Dominic playing around and talking into the microphone about the reckless life he lived. At her request, Tony chopped the recordings up and placed them as interludes throughout the mixtape. She’d woven her creative direction throughout the project.
She didn’t even know that he’d recorded verses over the beat she made that night in Tony’s basement until she happened across it while playing back some music Tony had left for her on a thumb drive. She sat on the floor of his room, propped against a wall, letting it play. His voice was slurred—it was scratchy and more gravelly than normal. She obsessed over it, replaying it over and over because he sounded so out of it. It personified his tortured soul and made her chest sink. She hated it, but it became one of the most streamed songs from his mixtape.
Claudette walked to the bathroom, sliding her feet across the cold floors with familiarity because Diane’s home had become like a third home. She split her time between there, George’s, and Autumn’s off-campus apartment-—she’d moved off of campus that fall at George’s suggestion and reduced her course load to three online classes but kept her job at the campus library.
“You can’t be living in no dorm with a baby on the way,” he’d grumbled one day while they chatted in the kitchen of his bungalow.
She’d shrugged because she had hardly been in her dorm during the last few weeks of her summer on campus. She’d spent them at Diane’s, engrossed in whatever she had going on.
Her body sagged with exhaustion as she entered the bathroom. She rushed through her shower, trying to ignore the rush of butterflies in her stomach that mingled with Evie’s kicks. She brushed her teeth in the same manner, hoping time would speed up. Afterwards she pulled on a sweater dress that hugged her bump and sneakers by some designer whose name she couldn’t pronounce. The outfit had been a gift from Autumn that she’d brought back from her winter ski trip in the Swiss Alps with Kel and his boyfriend.
“Finally!” Josiah yelled as she walked into the kitchen.
He leapt from his seat and crouched to her stomach.
“Hi Evie baby... I missed you.” He hugged her stomach and Claudette rolled her eyes.
