Beggars for Roses

Begin Again

My body had landed in New York. My
heart was still in Strasbourg. I looked around
stupidly at the airport for Richie.
Damn Richie. I wanted to take it all
out on him. The anger was just too much.
There was no let up, no outlet, this tight
bottleneck was killing me.

                                                   It was six
in the morning and I had finally
convinced Maria she wasn't going
anywhere before breakfast.

                                                      My roaming
eyes landed on Brody, our nightly gate-
keeper, occasional driver. Richie
must have found the rare excuse to stay back
and send Brody in his place. Stalling... Sheesh!

At last, I found Richie on our front porch,
waiting to receive us. He looked very
old, very unsure of himself, like, 'I
don't know what to do with my hands' kind of
unsure. I kept him squarely in my gaze
as I got out of the car. Placidly,
I watched Maria greet Richie with a
kiss on his cheek as was her habit. He
took one very timid look at my face,
but I only had a blank stare to pelt
him with. Even as Maria looked at
me expectantly, I just took my bag
out of the trunk and walked inside, while she
lingered behind to offer some kind of
consolatory explanation, no
doubt.

              Ma was waiting for me inside. By
the looks of her, Richie must have told her.
Tears streaming down her face, she pulled me in
for a bear hug. I held on tightly to
her. She was the only one left standing
in my corner, rooting for me without
contamination from some contrary
obligation. I was truly grateful
that her selfless embrace was waiting for
me today.

                     At last, she let go of me.
She moved her head in disapproval, in
consternation at my suffering, and
wiped her tears with her scarf.

"Damn, these rich white
people. They take pride in ruining their own
children's lives."

                                 She held my face in both her
hands and observed my face with a sad smile.

"Oh! To think what you had to go through, my
child."

                "Well, I'm luckier than we all thought,
ain't I? Everyone used to be jealous
that I have two doting mothers ready to do
anything for me. Turns out I had three,
not two. Let Jules be more jealous of me
now."

             She chuckled briefly to humor my
half-hearted joke and hugged me again, then
she sighed.

                      "How is she, Geoffie? Richie told
me... Is she doing... okay?"

                                                  "Did he tell
you everything... who he is to me?"
Ma
nodded solemnly, so I continued:

"She...," I couldn't bring myself to say how
bad, very bad, she was doing. So, I
pursed my lips and turned my head in a no.
Ma understood, replied with another
hug.

           "I bet she is strong though. Just like you,
my boy. After all, she is your real
mom..."

                 Ma whispered as if Mrs. Cunningham
was lurking within earshot.

                                                     I smiled at
her antics. She turned her attention to
Maria as she came in with Richie.
I looked over at the dining table
behind us. It was already laid. Ma
had prepared a full breakfast. The places
were set. We would be having one of our
secret 'Mrs. Cunningham is not home
today' affairs. Richie at the head of
the table, Ma and I sitting lower.