don’t want to hear it, Father.”
“Go in peace, child. I’ll continue to pray for you.”
Or not. I took a few steps closer to my mother’s grave, then lowered myself to the ground. Before my feet were a dozen red roses on the grave. An odd choice, but Daddy was trying to be romantic. Tracey, my sister, hadn’t been by yet, but I knew she’d give Mama purple hyacinths. I lowered my white lilies in front of the headstone. If Darren were here, he’d given her sweet peas, because Mama used to call me her sweet pea. I talked to Mama and then returned home, bogged down by thoughts of her and Darren.
I couldn’t believe Darren didn’t remember Mama’s anniversary. Last year, he took off work and held me until I cried myself to sleep. No judgment, just silent strength. Later, he’d driven me to the cemetery where I whispered to the stone slab, updating my mother on the past year, or reminding her of a funny time we’d shared. After I spoke to her, Darren talked to her, too, low and serious, as if he were asking for advice. I never asked him what he said to Mama, and he never shared.
Mama loved Darren. She’d told me once that I was the light in his sky. I don’t know if Mama would love him now. On days like this, I wish I could pick up the phone and call her. What advice would she give me? The weeks before she died, she gave me lots of advice.
In bouts of lucidity from the medicine, she’d opened her warm gold eyes. They stood out against her skin, ashen and slick with sickness. Despite her poor health, she’d gift me that famous smile of hers and drop me a pearl of wisdom. “Don’t go out in public without clean underwear.”
“Yes, Mama.” She’d said that since I was a child. I didn’t get it then and I didn’t now. Who in their right mind would go out in dirty underwear?
“You have a little girl; don’t you force her to get a relaxer like I did to you and Tracey. You’ve gotta teach ’em early to love the hair and the skin they’re in.”
“All right, Mama. Promise.”
In the last few days of her life, she’d gotten deeper, more serious. Her breathing was raspy and light. I had leaned in to listen to her soft, wise words as her life began to wane.
The last story was about her regret. She’d gotten pregnant with me in college. Daddy, a midlevel executive, had met my then coed mama at a friend’s birthday party and swept Mama off her feet. He’d been gallant, and after just six months of dating, they were married. Soon after, they had me. Unfortunately, she had to drop out of school and place her dreams of being a teacher on hold. I frowned when she told me that.
But she hadn’t. Her face softened. “I’ve no regrets about having you, sweet pea. I could’ve done both. But your father . . .” She licked her dry lips. “Your father wanted me to stay home. He didn’t see why I needed to teach when he made enough money for the both of us. I listened to him, but I shouldn’t have.” She squeezed my hand. My heart grew. I never knew the story of why she returned to college at age forty-five, but I respected the hell out of it. Daddy had put up a stink from the time she’d enrolled. But Mama smiled and continued along, doing what she intended to do.
“And you see he came around. He was smiling ear to ear and clapping the loudest at my graduation, one of the happiest days of my life, outside of having you and Tracey. I had to prove to myself I could do it, that I could go after what I wanted.”
Mama had gotten a job straight away after college, working in Fulton County, where she proudly served as a teacher for eight years. Until cancer.
“Don’t let anyone take away your dreams, sweet pea. Not anyone, you hear?”
“Promise, Mama.” That time, my tone wasn’t dutiful. I meant it. I’d never forget Mama’s earnest expression. Remembering her last days, I blinked away the moisture. That’s why I couldn’t give up on my dreams. Not for Darren. Not for anyone.
I pressed my forehead against the window, trying and failing to shake off the lingering remnants of the memory.
My thoughts volleyed back to Darren. He still had sessions