Finding Mrs. Wright Page 8

  I let out a deep breath. How did my daughter get to be so smart at six? “Yes, Bree.”

  “So when are you gonna do that?”

  I let out a chuckle. “Don’t you think Daddy needs to take his time so he can be sure to get you a good mama this time? It takes time to find the right mama.”

  “It doesn’t have to. I already picked one out. Daddy, I think Miss Cassandra would make the perfect real mama.”

  Yep. I knew that’s where all this was going.

  “And guess what?” Brianna leaned as far forward as her car seat would allow. “I think she likes you.” She whispered it real loud like there was somebody else in the car and she needed to keep it a secret.

  “You think so, Bree?”

  “Yeah. And that’s real important, too. Did you know that for her to be my real mama, you have to marry her? Because she can only be my mama if she’s your wife.” She said it like she was educating me on how the whole thing worked. I looked into the rearview mirror and saw her frowning. “But then, how is Mama my mama if you guys never got married?”

  I was never more glad to see the Golden Arches. “Who wants a Happy Meal?” I said it all loud and exuberant, hoping Brianna would get super excited and forget this conversation.

  “Me,” she squealed. “Ooh, Daddy, what kind of toy do you think they have?”

  “I think on the last commercial I saw they had the Puss ‘N Boots.”

  “Oowee. That’s my favorite.” As we went through the drive-through, she rattled on and on, recapping scene after scene of the movie. I was saved. For now.

  I knew it would only be a matter of time before this came up again. In fact, probably after the next time she saw Miss Cassandra.

  What could I do? Even if I did decide to commit, I wasn’t no church dude. I mean, me and God was cool and all, but it was like He did His thing and I did mine. I knew I needed to do better, but it wasn’t the kind of thing that happened overnight.

  And even if I became the most serious church dude ever, there was still Shauntae. There couldn’t be any baby mama crazier than her. Even though I had minimized the amount of time Brianna spent with her, she was still in the picture. So unless I was ready to hire a hit man or pay her a big lump sum to disappear forever, crazy baby mama drama wasn’t going anywhere.

  Looked like Shauntae was going to make it impossible for me to step to Miss Cassandra Parker. If I did decide to get Brianna a “real mama,” I was going to have to find her somewhere else.

  Eight

  For the next few weeks, I dropped Brianna off at arts class on Saturday and at children’s church on Sunday without interacting with Cassandra much at all. Her speech was effective and I didn’t want to waste her time. Wasn’t no sense in being all up in her face and flirting with her and not being in a position to take it any further.

  It was hard. Whenever I saw her, I wanted to talk to her. Be close to her. Smell that peachy fragrance she wore and be close to that smile. She had gotten under my skin in our few conversations and she was hard to shake. Especially since I saw how much Brianna was changing.

  I didn’t know if it was because she was spending less time with her mother or because of the time she was spending with Cassandra, but Brianna was different. Her speech was better. She was happier—singing and playing all the time. Mom and Pop said they hadn’t had any more hoochie song episodes and no more sassing and they were very happy with how she was changing.

  I was actually enjoying church. After that first time I went, I decided to listen to the pastor rather than think about my problems. His messages were cool and there always seemed to be something in it for me. I had actually tried to read my Bible a few times but the thee’s and thou’s kinda got in my way.

  I was glad that Brianna was enjoying the arts activities. They must have been doing some serious exercise in dance class because it seemed like she was getting thin. Maybe it was a growth spurt she was going through where she was thinning out as she was sprouting up, and then would fill in later. She was eating like a horse, but only getting slimmer.

  “Brianna, stop drinking all that water. You’re gonna end up in the bathroom all morning and we’re gonna be late.”

  “I’m thirsty, Daddy.”

  “You can’t be that thirsty, Bree.”

  She used to play the “I’m thirsty” game when she didn’t want to go to sleep at night but lately it was becoming a chronic thing. I used to sit with her in bed while she drank and spend a little time with her, thinking maybe she needed extra attention. But maybe the extra attention was backfiring because she was playing the game all the time now. Which had her peeing all the time.

  The sound of running water stopped and then it got quiet. I walked into the kitchen and didn’t see her. “Bree, we’re gonna be late. What are you doing?” I went into her bedroom and found her lying on the bed.

  She sat up, looking a little punky. I put a hand to her forehead. “You feeling okay, baby? You don’t look so good. You want to stay home today?”

  Her eyes flew open. “No, Daddy. I want to see Miss Cassandra. Please, Daddy. Don’t make me stay home.”

  Cassandra Parker seemed to have had the same effect on my daughter that she had on me. “Okay, baby girl. Let’s go. Did you get your breakfast?”

  “I had Pop-Tarts. Two whole packs of them.” She still had crumbs around the corner of her mouth and I could smell the fruity smell on her breath. I wiped her face. I hated her eating all that sugar but I didn’t have any breakfast food in the house to cook for her. I usually did the grocery shopping for the week after I dropped her off at the church every Saturday.

  Her eyes looked a little sunken in. I hoped she wasn’t coming down with something. Maybe I needed to make her a doctor’s appointment next week to see what was going on.

  By the time we got to the church, Brianna was really dragging. Even though I had been avoiding Cassandra, I wanted to let her know what was going on. Brianna leaned against me as we walked into the church.

  When we got to the arts room, Cassandra was standing at the front surrounded by kids. She saw us walk in and met my eyes. I guessed I had been avoiding her so hard she was surprised to see me approaching her. She pulled herself away from the kids and came over to me.

  “Hey, Devon. How are you? Feeling better?”

  “I’m fine. What do you mean?”

  “I figured you were avoiding me because you were sick and didn’t want me to catch whatever you had. So, I guess you’re feeling better.”

  “Always got something smart to say, huh?”

  “You know you like it.” She bent down and placed a hand under Brianna’s chin. “What’s wrong, sweetie? You look like you don’t feel so good.” She looked up at me with concern in her eyes.

  “I’m fine, Miss Cassandra.” Brianna started to cry. “I don’t want to go back home.”

  Cassandra looked at me and I shrugged. She picked Brianna’s big old self up in her arms and laid her head on her shoulder and rubbed her back. “Tell you what. You get to be Miss Cassandra’s special helper today. You sit at the front of the room and take the roll and then you get to watch and make sure everybody’s where they’re supposed to be. But you have to be real still and no dancing or singing. You can only watch and supervise. Okay?”

  Brianna nodded without lifting her head off Cassandra’s shoulder. Cassandra looked at me. “Is that okay with you? It’s probably just a little cold or something. I’ll keep an eye on her and if anything happens, I’ll give you a call.”

  “Thanks, Cassandra. Really . . . thanks.” In those few minutes, she had dug herself into my heart even deeper. Just what I needed. I turned to walk away but then turned back. I waited until she sat Brianna down on the front seat and came back to where I was waiting for her. “You have my number?”

  She nodded. “It’s on the art school roster, remember?”

  I pulled out my phone. “Can I get yours? I got some stuff to catch up on today and usually ignore calls from numbers I don�
��t recognize.”

  She gave me that mischievous smirk and batted her eyelashes at me. “You asking for my digits, Devon? You been treating me like I got the plague and now you want my number?”

  I shook my head. “Don’t play with me, girl. This is all about Brianna, nothing else.”

  She stared me straight in the eyes. “And that’s just a shame, ain’t it, playa?”

  I stared back for a few seconds but then lowered my eyes to the floor. She was killing me. Just killing me. I guessed she was satisfied that she had stuck the knife deep enough into my heart because she gave me her number without saying anything else. As I left, she said, “Hopefully I won’t have to call, huh?”

  “Yeah. Hopefully.”

  I was barely home an hour when her name popped up in my phone. “Miss me already?”

  “You wish, Devon. Brianna looks worse and she’s saying her stomach hurts. She must have a stomach bug. She said she’s feeling bad enough that she wants you to come get her.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  Fifteen minutes had hardly passed and Cassandra’s name popped up in my phone again as I was on my way to the church. “Dang, girl, you can’t stop ringing my phone, huh?”

  “Devon, how far away are you?” She sounded breathless and upset.

  “I’m about five minutes away. What’s wrong?”

  “Brianna passed out. I called an ambulance and they’re already here. They’re concerned that she’s really sick and they don’t want to wait a minute longer. Can you meet us at the hospital?”

  My heart stopped. I could hear something beeping and men talking in the background. “What . . . what’s happening?”

  “We’re on our way to Egleston. Meet us there, okay? Drive careful.”

  “What do they think is wrong with her? Is she conscious now?”

  “Devon, please focus on driving. Is there someone you need me to call for you?”

  I could hardly think. “My parents. I’ll call them. Is she—”

  “Devon, I’m here praying and God’s got her. Just focus on getting to the hospital.”

  “Okay.” I let out a deep breath. “Thanks, Cassandra.”

  I hung up with her and called my parents. I couldn’t get through on either of their cell phones or their home phone. I remembered that they had treated themselves to a weekend up at Chateau Elan. They had probably turned off their phones while they were getting a massage or something.

  I uttered a prayer as I sped to the hospital. “God, please let my baby girl be all right.”

  Nine

  The next hour was a blur. Ambulance . . . emergency room . . . tests . . . nurses and doctors rushing around and talking in unintelligible doctor-speak . . .

  And then the worst news in the world.

  Brianna had Type 1 Diabetes. She was in a diabetic coma and would need to go to the pediatric intensive care unit until they could get her sugar levels under control. The emergency room doctors said the doctors in the ICU would explain more when we got there and that it was important to get her there so they could get the treatment started.

  It was hard for me to focus. I hoped Cassandra was understanding things well enough to explain it all to me later. She guided me around with a firm but gentle hand as we followed the nurse’s directions from the emergency room to the ICU.

  Walking through the ICU made me realize how sick Brianna must be. I shouldn’t have looked as we passed by the beds of the other children there, but I couldn’t help myself. There was one little girl who was skin and bones attached to several IVs with different fluids going in. She was bald and pale looking, so I figured she must have some kind of cancer.

  Another boy lay in his bed with a tube down his throat. A woman who must have been his mother was sitting glued to his bedside. She was talking to him with tears streaming down her face while a man paced back and forth in the room.

  Every bed we passed had a similar deathly feel to it. I had thought Brianna had a cold or at worst a stomach bug. How did she end up being sick enough to belong in this ward with children who looked like they might never go home?

  We finally got to Brianna’s room, where the doctors already had her hooked up to an IV bag full of fluid and another smaller IV bag. I convinced myself that Brianna was nowhere near as sick as those other kids. Even though she had lost weight over the last few weeks, her cheeks were still nice and full. Her color was healthy and strong and she had a full head of hair. And she only had two IV bags. And there was no tube down her throat and no beeping machines or monitors in her room. So she wasn’t that sick.

  After a few minutes of discussion with each other over a clipboard full of papers, the two doctors in the room introduced themselves to us. One was an older woman and the other a young man. I figured the woman was showing the young dude the ropes since she had asked him a bunch of questions that seemed to stress him out to answer. She had finally rattled off a long list of instructions that he was to carry out on Brianna and he scribbled madly trying to get everything down. I wanted to listen to make sure I caught anything that he missed, but nothing she said made any sense so I hoped she would check over his work to make sure he did the right thing.

  Cassandra stayed glued to my side the whole time, a concerned look on her face. Anyone watching us would have thought she was Brianna’s mother and my wife. The whole time the doctors were talking to us she kept touching me. A gentle hand on my knee when they told us how sick Brianna was. A soft hand on my back when they told us how serious her long-term diagnosis was. A gentle squeeze of my hand when they explained that Brianna had to be on insulin for the rest of her life. It was all too overwhelming and I was glad to have Cassandra there while everything was happening.

  I finally got in touch with my parents and they were on their way. Somehow, it didn’t occur to me to call Shauntae until we had been at Egleston for almost an hour. She seemed annoyed that she had to drop what she was doing and come to the hospital.

  After the doctors explained everything and left, Cassandra went to the head of the bed and stroked Brianna’s cheeks. I sat on the side of Brianna’s bed with my head in my hands.

  Cassandra held her hand out to me. “Devon.”

  I stood and took her hand.

  She bowed her head. “God, we thank you for Brianna. We know that you’re her Healer and so we release healing on her right now. We thank you that you release healing angels to come into this room right now. To bring your Kingdom, to bring healing. God, I thank you that you help Devon to deal with all this. Please give him your peace, your grace. Help him to trust you and know that you’re here. In Jesus’ name.”

  She didn’t let go of my hand. I sat back down on the bed, bowed my head, and cried. I didn’t want to break down in front of Cassandra but . . . this was my little girl. Lying in the bed with tubes in her arm, unconscious and sick bad. With a life-long illness that would require her to be stuck with needles all day every day. It was too much.

  Cassandra put her arms around me and let me cry. She rubbed my back, not saying anything, just being there.

  “Devon?” My mom’s voice filled the room. Cassandra pulled away from me. Mom and Pop rushed to the side of Brianna’s bed, questions in their eyes. I wondered if the walk through the ICU had rattled them as much as it had me. I started trying to explain everything but my brain couldn’t think and my mouth couldn’t talk. Cassandra placed a hand on my arm.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Wright? I’m Cassandra Parker, Brianna’s art teacher.”

  “Oh . . . Miss Cassandra. We’ve heard so much about you.” Mom and Pop both hugged her. Cassandra sat them down and explained everything the doctor had explained to us. She did a really good job. Good enough that Mom started crying. Pops stood behind Mom and held her shoulders while they shook. Mom reached out for my hand and held it, squeezing it gently every few minutes. When Cassandra finished explaining, we all sat there in silence.

  A few minutes later, Shauntae arrived. She stood in the door for
a few minutes, looking from Brianna to me and my parents all hugged up together with Cassandra. She finally walked in and stood close to the bed.

  I walked over to her. “Shauntae, you made it. Ummm . . . the doctors say Brianna has diabetes. She’s in a diabetic coma.”

  Shauntae gasped and leaned over, her head almost touching her knees. “My baby’s in a coma? What happened?”

  It seemed crazy for Shauntae to react with so much emotion. Like she cared about Brianna.

  “How did she get diabetes? What have you been feeding her? I knew I shouldn’t have let her be with you all the time. It’s only been a few weeks and look what happened.”

  My mouth fell open. Was she really trying to blame this on me?

  Cassandra stepped over to the bed and extended a hand to Shauntae. “Hi, I’m Cassandra Parker. I’m Brianna’s art teacher. It’s not actually anyone’s fault—”

  “Oh, so you’re the Miss Cassandra I got to hear about 24/7.” Shauntae looked Cassandra up and down with a catty look on her face. I wished I had prepped Cassandra on how ignorant and ghetto Shauntae was, but there hadn’t been time. “I don’t remember asking you any questions. What are you doing here anyway?” Shauntae looked around the room. “This seems to be a family gathering, so I’m wondering why you’re all up in it.”

  “Brianna was at art class when she got sick.” I stepped in before Cassandra could speak. I knew Cassandra was nice and sweet but I knew she had a mouth on her, too. I had only seen the flirty, cute side of it but I could imagine she could get ugly if she needed to.

  “Hello, Quartisha.” My mom stood to greet Shauntae. She walked over and they exchanged an awkward hug. I winced and tried not to look at Cassandra’s face when Mom said Shauntae’s name. I didn’t know why she always insisted on calling her by her first name. It was embarrassing when she did it when other people were around.