"I will," he promised, his eyes narrowing with determination and assurance. "I always will."
"I know, but you've got your own life to live."
"I want you to be a part of it, Rain. You know that," he said.
I looked down, sipped some coffee, closed my eyes and sat back.
"It all happened so fast, Roy," I said with my eyes still closed. I could see Beni laughing and Mama singing in the kitchen.
"Yeah, seems like it," he said.
"Let's go back upstairs, Roy," I told him.
"You sure you don't want anything to eat?"
"I couldn't hold anything down," I said and he nodded. He gulped some coffee, cleared the table and then we went to the elevator.
"Where are you staying? With Aunt Sylvia?"
"Yeah, and I'm sure you're welcome, too."
"I've got this hotel room already booked," I explained. "Oh yeah," he said.
When the elevator door opened, we saw Aunt Sylvia in the hallway. Her friend was embracing her.
My heart stopped and started. Roy looked at me fearfully.
"Oh children," Aunt Sylvia cried as we approached. "I'm so sorry. She's gone."
"Mama!' I screamed. "No. We were just with her. No!"
I pulled away and charged through the door. They were just putting the sheet over her. I rushed to the bed and pulled it down.
"She can't be dead," I screamed at the nurse.
"I'm sorry, dear," she said.
Roy took my hand and then embraced me as we both gazed at Mama. She didn't look any different from the way she was before. Maybe she wasn't dead.
"Please," I cried. "Are you sure?"
"She's passed on, dear," the nurse said softly. "The doctor was here and pronounced her."
I pressed my face against Roy's chest and he held me tightly. I could feel him sobbing inside, struggling to hold his tears from flowing.
"She waited for you, Rain," he whispered. "She waited for you."
Mama's funeral was simple. We decided she should be buried near the other members of her family. Roy called our-Aunt Alana in Texas to tell her, but she said she was sick herself and didn't have the money to make the trip. She had no idea where Mama's brother Lamar was. She hadn't heard from him for nearly two years. So, aside from Aunt Sylvia and her friends, Roy, myself, some members of Aunt Sylvia's church, there was no one else at the funeral. Roy didn't want to call the prison to tell Ken. He didn't think he would care, and they certainly weren't going to fly him down to the funeral. In the end, I made the call and left the message for him.
Grandmother Hudson sent beautiful flowers. She and I spoke once on the phone, but my mother never called, nor did she send anything. Later, she would tell me that she had asked Grandmother Hudson to send flowers for her as well. I laughed to myself, thinking Grandmother Hudson was right: my mother always relied on her to do the right things, the necessary things.
After the funeral we all returned to Aunt Sylvia's house. Roy was supposed to leave that afternoon and return to his base camp. With everyone comforting us and trying to get us to eat, we didn't have much time alone. Finally, he took me aside and asked me to walk outside with him.
Aunt Sylvia had a small house with a little patch of grass for a backyard. She had a portion of it set aside for a vegetable garden and some chairs with a redwood picnic table. The day was partly
cloudy with a warm breeze. Aunt Sylvia's flowers filled the air with a perfumed aroma. In the distance over the row of houses to our right, we could see a commercial jet begin its climb into the soft white patches of clouds.
"I can't think of her as dead, Roy," I said. "I just can't believe she's gone."