Simmer

When Reality Hits

Late May 2009

Sunshine made the glass sparkle. It was the only thing shining in Devon's life after more than two months of unemployment. She sat on the most expensive Hyde Park Square restaurant's patio, grateful for the invitation. The Hyde Park Square restaurant, nestled in the heart of the neighborhood, looked like a scene in Miami. The bright, pastel buildings were clustered together, separated by broad streets with traffic going in both directions.

Devon looked to her left and watched children sitting in the park, located in the middle of traffic, eating their ice cream.

Lunch was almost finished, and she still couldn't look her best friend, Michelle, in the eye.

Devon didn't take charity very well.

The soft wind blew as the waiter walked past.

Michelle flipped her red hair over her pale shoulder before she adjusted her wide sunglasses.

Michelle was the opposite of Devon. She was white, much taller, and older by twenty years. She was obsessed with family.

After three marriages—two before she was twenty- five years old—Michelle had finally found the life she wanted.

Devon was glad for her.

Although she'd never admit it to Michelle, Devon didn't see the point in wasting away at home cooking, cleaning and waiting for the children to return home.

"How's the job search going?" Michelle placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward.

Devon shrugged.

She stared at the white wrought-iron table instead of her friend. "It's going."

Michelle frowned. "You know summer's coming up soon."

"Thanks for reminding me," Devon sarcastically remarked.

Thoughts of summer were like a wet blanket in winter. Devon's bank account was almost depleted, and she had to find a job or a way to infuse it with cash quickly.

Unfortunately, she spent more than saving in the months before her firing.

"You know, in this economy, many parents are out of work. So Clifton will understand if he can't go to day camp or get the new video games." Michelle shrugged. "It happens."

Devon rolled her eyes. She'd rarely been in the majority and didn't want to be in this group now.

This was two thousand nine. Ohio's unemployment was high, somewhere around nine percent.

Devon wished telling Clifton they'd have to spend the summer at home was just as simple.

Michelle didn't understand.

Devon didn't have a choice.

Material things were how she communicated with her son, and she wasn't proud. However, it was all she could do to ease the guilt.

Jacob.

For once in her crazy life, she did something she wanted—slept with Jacob and suffered the consequences.

Devon lightly chewed on the inside of her lip.

Clifton wasn't a consequence.

He was a miracle, a blessing...right?

She'd been twenty years old, and Jacob didn't use a condom.

It wasn't a miracle in the making. It was biology.

"Think about it." Michelle waved her hands in the air to get Devon's attention. "This may be a great opportunity to start anew. You and Clifton can spend time together, get to know each other, and have a great time."

Devon paused.

"Oh, you know me and how I love everything out of the ordinary but think about it. You conceived Clifton in nineteen ninety-nine. In the ninth month too." Michelle used her left index finger to tap each finger on her right hand. "It's two thousand and nine. So he's nine years old. What does that mean?"

"You drank too much wine?"

"Nine is your angel number right now. Nine is about completion and freeing yourself from restrictions. You're at the end of a phase. Rejoice."

Silence.

Michelle sighed. "Oh, Devon, are you listening to me?"

"No."

"Listen to what I'm saying. Everyone has a guardian angel, and yours tells you it's time to wrap up this phase of your life. Acknowledge, embrace, and accept it."

Devon stared at the busy sidewalk a couple of feet away.

She should walk in the middle of traffic and let her guardian angel save her. It was something to do, and it would get her mind off her financial problems.

She hunched over, her shoulders inward.

Fear bubbled from her feet to her chest, which caused her to bite her bottom lip.

She could not spend the summer with her nine-year-old son without him attending day camp or playing video games.

What would they talk about?

Michelle tapped her arm to get her attention. "I'll help you in any way I can."

Hope replaced fear.

Devon sat up straight and leaned forward.

Her shoulders relaxed.

Her best friend was about to answer all her prayers. Can you give me a small loan, just a couple of grand, to cover the summer camp expense? Thank you so much."

"Oh, except that." Michelle smiled.

Devon's breath caught in her throat. The fragile happiness she'd had crashed to the ground like glass against cement. She stammered, "Come on, I thought you said…."

Michelle nodded and smiled as she waved her hands around as she spoke. "I did. I was thinking more about you and Clifton spending time with Henry, the kids, and me. You know, you can go on vacation with us or have dinner at the house or go on staycations."

"I'd rather have the loan."

Michelle pretended to be insulted. She pushed her thin bottom lip upward and then puffed out her cheeks. But, of course, she was a terrible actress, so she looked more like a spoiled adult with a stupid pout. "After eight years of friendship, this is the thanks I get? I think it's a great idea--if I say so myself."

You don't understand Michelle. That's an excellent idea for someone else. I'm totally screwed up. I have a son that I'm taking for the summer. I'm unemployed.

I need more money to pay for summer camp.

Summer camp.

It's my only connection to him.

Do you know what that means, Michelle?

It's not a great idea.

Terrible.

It's a terrible idea because I can't do what you think I can do.

Yes, I want a mother-son relationship with Clifton, but I need more than your idea to get what I know can't have.

Devon's heart ached. She wanted to be a mother to Clifton, but how? She stared down, her mind consumed with negative thoughts of being a terrible mother.

"More wine or soda, ladies?" The waiter stopped at their table.

"Yes, please, soda."

Devon scooted her empty soda glass toward the waiter. "Fill this with water. It's the only thing I can afford."

Michelle scoffed. "She's right. That's why I'm paying. So bring her the same."

She folded her arms across her chest. "You didn't have to say that."

Michelle paused like she was contemplating her actions. "Oh, you're right. I didn't, but I enjoyed it."

"Why? Do you like that I'm stressing about how I will care for my son?"

Michelle took her sunglasses off. She squinted as she looked at Devon, but her stern expression could still convey her point. "You're acting like a child. You've been running from Clifton since he was born. Maybe you didn't want him, but he's here now, so act like a mother and spend what little time you have with him."

Devon winced.

Michelle's words felt worse than a knife in the gut.

Devon thought she'd hidden her fears so well that no one could see them. Now, she wasn't so sure.

Although they were best friends, Devon never discussed her fears with Michelle. Instead, she was grateful that they'd met after she'd given birth to Clifton.

All she knew was Clifton was the result of a one-night stand, and his father took custody out of spite. The latter Devon had added to stop Michelle's custody questions.

Devon's voice dripped with honey. "Are you sure you don't want to loan me money? Less than a grand would get me through?"

"I'm sure."

Devon grabbed her purse from the chair next to her. "Then you can finish my drink."

****

Devon didn't go home.

She couldn't.

After lunch with Michelle, Devon was more determined to manage her finances. She went to several restaurants to submit résumés and applied for jobs on her phone.

Her next stop was her uncle's home.

Uncle Bob was a short man with short ideas. He'd agreed with Grandpa Shack to give her responsibility for the restaurant because he didn't want it. He'd agreed with her to expand the restaurant chain if he didn't have to do the work.

He'd thought it was a good idea when she wanted to improve the menu as long as he could taste and not conceptualize.

So, why go to him?

Devon knew this was a good idea for two reasons. First, he always agreed with her. Second, she'd earned his respect.

Of course, the negative part was that he was Neville's father.

Uncle Bob's house resembled him. It was short and simple. The one-level shotgun house had a basement, patio, and dining room he didn't use. Instead, he entertained in the cramped living room, cluttered with plastic-covered furniture and dusty pictures.

He walked with his walker, flipping it up slightly and slamming it down. When he reached the corner of the room, he flopped into his stuffed flower chair with a floral pattern.

Why does he have a walker when he doesn't need it?

Yes, he's over seventy years old but outwalks the walker.

"Please sit, Devon." He motioned for her to sit across from him on the plastic-covered couch.

Devon slowly sat, thinking she could avoid the plastic's embarrassing crunch sound.

She was wrong.

Crunnnch.

"What do I owe the pleasure?"

Devon stared at her uncle.

How did you outlive my father when you're at least twenty years older than him?

Why was Daddy the unlucky one?

He was the only one with cancer—out of ten children.

"Devon," Uncle Bob prodded.

She stammered, "I…I wasn't sure you knew, but Neville and some family members thought it best to take the restaurants in a new direction."

Uncle Bob nodded.

"So, you know they fired me for no reason?"

He frowned like it took a moment to sink in before he smiled and nodded. "Oh yes, they told me and asked for my blessing. I agreed as long as I didn't have to fire you."

Devon threw her hands in the air. "Come on! Why the hell did you agree? Haven't I done enough for the restaurants to deserve to stay?"

"Sure, but Neville thought moving the business in a more fitting direction would be good."

Huh?

Devon pointed at herself. "Haven't I moved the business in a more profitable direction?"

Uncle Bob didn't hesitate. "Oh sure, sure you did. Pop would be grateful. You know he liked you more than he did Neville. I told that boy to be nicer."

Devon waved her hands to get his attention refocused on the present. "I didn't deserve to be fired. I made the restaurant money. In fact, it was enough money to open another one."

"Sure," Uncle Bob agreed. "Sure, you did. So did Jacob, but you fired him anyway. I guess there's something about what Mama used to call karma."

Devon laughed to stop the tears from flowing. She balled her hands into fists to stop the urge to hit something. "I was fired because I fired Jacob ten years ago?"

Uncle Bob frowned. "Nah, Neville and the gang just wanted to put their stamp on things. You know it's awfully boring letting one person run the whole show. Now, how's that boy of yours?"

Devon thought about answering the question.

However, she had a question of her own to be answered.

She calmly asked, "If I return to the business in any position except the manager, can I work there?"

Pause.

Devon could hear her heart pounding in her ears.

Nervousness pumped through her so fast she needed to run.

Devon watched her uncle think about it.

She prayed he'd do what he usually did and go with the flow. When he opened his mouth to speak, she held her breath.

"So, how's that boy of yours? I bet you're just like me. Give 'em anything he asks for, and don't think twice."

****

Emotionally lost, Devon drove until she parked the car on a tree-lined street in Avondale, a community she wouldn't go to unless she tried to commit suicide.

Well, maybe it wasn't that bad.

Devon had nothing against the community.

It had seen more bad times than good recently.

Devon sighed as she leaned her head against the driver's side headrest.

Her thoughts about the community were just a diversion.

Her bewilderment guided her to the pink, three-story house with flowerpots hanging from the porch ceiling. It used to resemble a mansion when Devon was younger.

Now, it resembled a place of mysterious redemption.

Devon exited her car and strolled to the two flights of steep cemented stairs that were worse than a treadmill. She caught her breath as she walked to the short walkway.

The front door opened.

She smiled at a dark-skinned black woman dressed in hospital scrubs, who welcomed her.

"Mrs. Louise saw you from the window," the woman explained. "I'm Shawna. I'm a home healthcare provider. It's nice to meet you."

Devon shook her hand and then followed her inside her grandmother's home.

The living room was dark.

Unlike Uncle Bob's house, it was cool and uncluttered.

Grandma Louise sat in her wheelchair and faced the three windows that overlooked the porch. Then, briefly, she maneuvered the wheelchair to face the living room.

"Move that thing over here, girl," Grandma Louise pointed at Shawna. Devon moved to help Shawna.

Shawna waved her hand, dismissing Devon, and moved the old, battered stuffed chair from across the room to the window.

Devon sat in the chair across from Grandma Louise and placed her purse on the floor.

"Girl, get that purse off the floor. You'll always be broke," Grandma Louise scolded.

"I'm broke now."

"Is that why you're here? So you done put me down, and now you want my help?"

Devon opened her mouth to speak but said nothing. Her grandmother made her feel two inches tall.

She stared at her clasped hands and wondered how to defend her eight-year absence.

When Grandpa Shack died, Devon concentrated less on the family and more on the family business.

After a long pause, Devon said, "I'm sorry."

"So, how's that boy of yours doing? I saw him last year when your Mama brought him over. He didn't get anything from us." Grandma Louise wagged her left index finger. "Nothing."

Devon ignored the disappointment in her grandmother's voice.

His features don't matter. Devon wanted to scold Grandma Louise. However, she didn't see the point. She didn't care who Clifton resembled. She just needed money to make sure Clifton could attend the day camp.

"I'm just here because I'm frustrated. If Grandpa Shack was alive..." Devon paused to shake her head.

The world made sense when he was alive. When the world kicked me, he was there to pick me up and kick it back.

Grandma Louise stared out the window. "Even in death, Shack tried to baby you."

Devon frowned. "Do you think Grandpa Shack would approve of my firing?"

Pause.

"I understand Neville wants to go in a new direction, but I wish I'd had time to prepare my finances. I still don't have a job, and Clifton is visiting for the summer, and I don't have any funds to—"

"I learned long ago to never lend money to family," Grandma Louise rudely interrupted. "If I did, this place would be like a bank."

Devon bit the inside of her jaw.

She didn't know what to say. Was Grandma Louise being mean because Devon grew up as grandpa's little girl?

Maybe Devon should have been ashamed of her visit.

She should have visited Grandma Louise before now.

"I tell you," Grandma Louise announced like she wasn't talking to Devon. "If you were in your right mind, you'd see that man who gave you that boy instead of traipsing all around the city trying to find the money. So talk to that man."