we
were.”
“You
still didn’t tell him about me?”
“Why
would I do that after all these years?”
Angela’s
resentment sieved through the pores of her body. “Because he was my father,
maybe?” She broke from her mother. “I’m blaming him and his color for denying
me. When really it was you!”
Her
rant pulled Lee up the stairs and he burst into the room without knocking. A
frown creased the brown skin of his forehead only to disappear as his look
changed to one of fleeting pain and unconditional love. “Time out. I have
coffee waiting. Take off the gloves for a while.” He walked over to kiss his
wife’s lips and his daughter’s brow. “You two get dressed and meet me
downstairs. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’m going next door to see if I can
be of any help.”
“Daddy?”
Angela called. The lip under his moustache trembled. She couldn’t let the man
she called daddy all of her life walk out without letting him know what was in
her heart. Although a woman grown, a part of her heart would always belong to her daddy. She rushed into his open arms. “I love you so much.”
“I
never doubted that for a second. I love you, too, Cookie.” Then he was gone.
Told
so many times how much she resembled her mother with little likeness to her
father took on a different meaning after that conversation. Resuming, “Do you
know how he learned of my existence?”
“I
really believe it was something I said. We discussed our children and their
ages.”
Understanding
the implication, “He did the math.”
“I
believe so.” Connie cupped Angela’s face in her palms. “I love you and am truly
sorry for the way this turned out. What are you going to do about his request
for your assistance?”
“I
don’t know. I feel guilty for not being sympathetic.” She permitted her
mother’s embrace, reciprocating, deciding not to hold a grudge. “I’ve got to
think.”
“I’ll
let you dress. See you downstairs.”
Pressing
the corners of her eyes did not stem the tears tracing paths down her cheeks.
She needed air—plenty of it.
A
cloudy mist saturated the mid-day air as Angela wandered the downtown streets
of New Orleans without a destination. Her intent was a brief stroll around the
block and back. When she realized it, she roamed the CBD in a fog of distress.
The lackadaisical stride did little to alleviate the internal turmoil roiling
and nearly exploding her brain. Although penniless, she walked to the River
Walk, browsed the stores and meandered the aisles of the food court. In her
haste to escape, she left without bringing her purse, which also meant she was
minus identification.
The
double doors pushed outward onto the balcony as she sought solace at the
river’s edge. The mighty Mississippi River barely had any traffic floating with
the exception of the ferries crisscrossing their human cargo from one levee to
the other. In the days before Hurricane Katrina, you would be lucky to get a
table to eat your meal al fresco, the populous in that time jockeyed for a
place. No such problem today. She was one of about six people outside. It was
easy to tell the others were tourist as their interests had them glued to the
upright binoculars anchored to the flagstone flooring. Today even the pigeons
stayed away.
Angela
followed the balcony’s length until it ended back at double doors on the far
end of the River Walk. Entering, she flowed through the concourse, down the
escalators and back out into the damp air. She walked past the courtyard,
paying no attention to the Aquarium of the Americas or the beginning drizzle
and stumbled over the name-engraved, donated brick walkway on her way down to the
levee promenade. Raindrops fell like silvered baubles, hitting here and there
until they increased exponentially in size and numbers. There wasn’t a need to
rush for she had nowhere to go. Roaming aimlessly in the steady downpour put
her just in reach of the benches strategically arranged to view
were.”
“You
still didn’t tell him about me?”
“Why
would I do that after all these years?”
Angela’s
resentment sieved through the pores of her body. “Because he was my father,
maybe?” She broke from her mother. “I’m blaming him and his color for denying
me. When really it was you!”
Her
rant pulled Lee up the stairs and he burst into the room without knocking. A
frown creased the brown skin of his forehead only to disappear as his look
changed to one of fleeting pain and unconditional love. “Time out. I have
coffee waiting. Take off the gloves for a while.” He walked over to kiss his
wife’s lips and his daughter’s brow. “You two get dressed and meet me
downstairs. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’m going next door to see if I can
be of any help.”
“Daddy?”
Angela called. The lip under his moustache trembled. She couldn’t let the man
she called daddy all of her life walk out without letting him know what was in
her heart. Although a woman grown, a part of her heart would always belong to her daddy. She rushed into his open arms. “I love you so much.”
“I
never doubted that for a second. I love you, too, Cookie.” Then he was gone.
Told
so many times how much she resembled her mother with little likeness to her
father took on a different meaning after that conversation. Resuming, “Do you
know how he learned of my existence?”
“I
really believe it was something I said. We discussed our children and their
ages.”
Understanding
the implication, “He did the math.”
“I
believe so.” Connie cupped Angela’s face in her palms. “I love you and am truly
sorry for the way this turned out. What are you going to do about his request
for your assistance?”
“I
don’t know. I feel guilty for not being sympathetic.” She permitted her
mother’s embrace, reciprocating, deciding not to hold a grudge. “I’ve got to
think.”
“I’ll
let you dress. See you downstairs.”
Pressing
the corners of her eyes did not stem the tears tracing paths down her cheeks.
She needed air—plenty of it.
A
cloudy mist saturated the mid-day air as Angela wandered the downtown streets
of New Orleans without a destination. Her intent was a brief stroll around the
block and back. When she realized it, she roamed the CBD in a fog of distress.
The lackadaisical stride did little to alleviate the internal turmoil roiling
and nearly exploding her brain. Although penniless, she walked to the River
Walk, browsed the stores and meandered the aisles of the food court. In her
haste to escape, she left without bringing her purse, which also meant she was
minus identification.
The
double doors pushed outward onto the balcony as she sought solace at the
river’s edge. The mighty Mississippi River barely had any traffic floating with
the exception of the ferries crisscrossing their human cargo from one levee to
the other. In the days before Hurricane Katrina, you would be lucky to get a
table to eat your meal al fresco, the populous in that time jockeyed for a
place. No such problem today. She was one of about six people outside. It was
easy to tell the others were tourist as their interests had them glued to the
upright binoculars anchored to the flagstone flooring. Today even the pigeons
stayed away.
Angela
followed the balcony’s length until it ended back at double doors on the far
end of the River Walk. Entering, she flowed through the concourse, down the
escalators and back out into the damp air. She walked past the courtyard,
paying no attention to the Aquarium of the Americas or the beginning drizzle
and stumbled over the name-engraved, donated brick walkway on her way down to the
levee promenade. Raindrops fell like silvered baubles, hitting here and there
until they increased exponentially in size and numbers. There wasn’t a need to
rush for she had nowhere to go. Roaming aimlessly in the steady downpour put
her just in reach of the benches strategically arranged to view
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