I woke up with this idea for a story this morning. It has only has a few pictures because my graphics card is messed up, so I had to use what I had in my files. However, since it's Christmas, I thought some of you might enjoy it anyway. Enjoy.~~~~~~~~~~~
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COMFORT
By Vita Noble, c2007
My children looked at me solemnly.
“Fo’ real?”, Booji said. “One lil' gift for us to share? That’s messed up.”
He cut his eyes away from me and he made that negative sucking sound with his teeth. His sister and I watched him walk to the window.
“It don’t matter,” he said, looking out. “I’m grown now. I don’t care about Christmas no way. It's a fake holiday. Don’t nobody celebrate it for the right reasons.”
I glanced at our small nativity scene on the in-table, then back to him.
“You can, if you really want to,” I offered.
He glanced at our small, table top Christmas tree on the other in-table and rolled his eyes.
My daughter, Trianna, came to my rescue. “It’s okay with me, Mama,” she said. “I don’t mind sharing.”
“Suck up,” her brother snapped. “That ain’t what you said the other day.”
“You don’t nevah give Mama nothin’ no way!”, she yelled at him.
“That’s a damn lie,” he snapped. “I gave her flowers last year!”
“They don’t count! You stole those poinsettias from the store!”
“So? At least I thought of her. You just drew her a stupid picture!”
And thus my 18 year old son and 12 year old daughter slid down their well-traveled road of arguing.
“Booji, Tree, please, give it a rest,” I said wearily. “And don’t steal me no flowers this year. Maybe you can do something else. How about mopping the kitchen floor and giving the bathroom a good cleaning?”
He rolled his eyes. “I ain’t doin’ that. F it! You always side with her. I’m goin’ out.”
He grit on his sister and threw on his jacket. No telling when he’ll be back. Might be in an hour, might be tomorrow.
I turned to my daughter. “You want me to fix you anything?”
“Maybe some soup,” she replied. “The beef lentil.”
I reached for my cane and made my way to the kitchen. I thought about their conversation as I opened a can of soup, heated it, and waited for the toast. Our Christmas’s aren’t a thing like they used to be two years ago, before this small, growing and inoperable brain tumor claimed my health.
“It’s ready, Tree,” I hollered.
I'm not hungry. I sat in our comfy chair while she sprawled on the sofa and watched TV as she ate.
“Mama,” she asked, “have you figured out what you really want for Christmas?”
I smiled. “Just your love and respect, doll baby,” I replied. “You ain’t even gotta draw me a picture this year. You wanna give the place a good cleaning?”
She sighed. “I already got six loads of laundry and the dishes to do. Booji don’t do nothing but make dirt.”
“True,” I said quietly.
Keeping a clean home is a struggle when you have kids but you’re handicapped. She’s always done more of her share. I feel badly for asking. I let it go. I’ve learned to let go a lot of stuff from necessity.
I spent the rest of the evening knitting. My baby fell asleep on the sofa, and I prayed the mean streets won’t claim her after I’m gone. I know what my children don’t: I won’t be here next Christmas.
“Mama, Mama,” my son said, shaking me gently from my slumber on the chair. “Wake up.”
My eyes fluttered open. Tree was asleep on the sofa, and my son stood before me.
“Booji, what time is it?”
“Just after midnight,” he replied cheerily. “Merry Christmas.”
Trianna awakened, sat up and rubbed her face.
“Got somethin’ for y’all,” he said.
“Oooh! Lemme get your present, Mama!”, Tree squealed. "I hope you like it!"
She ran to her bedroom and returned with a small, cutely wrapped gift.
“Hand me my purse,” I said.
She passed it to me, and I removed their gift.
“This is for both of y’all,” I said. “Who wants to unwrap it?”
“She can,” Booji offered.
Tree unwrapped my gift. She smiled with glee. “Oooh! A racing game!”
Booji smiled pleasantly. “That’s nice, Mama. Thanks.”
They each hugged me.
“Don’t y’all fight over taking turns, okay?”
They grinned. Trianna was next. She passed her gift to me.
“Oh," I exclaimed, "I haven’t had this in a long time! A big bucket of Moose Munch popcorn! Covered with dark chocolate! Wow, thanks!”
I hugged her. She squeezed me tight. I know she used her babysitting money to buy it. I was touched that she remembered I like this. I hadn’t bought any in at least three years, because with my budget, it’s an expensive treat.
Booji put his hand in his pocket. “I didn't have no gift wrap, Tree.”
He pulled out a CD.
“What’s on it?”, she asked skeptically.
“Some of yo’ favorite songs. I burned them at my homeboy’s house.”
“Thanks.”
She rarely hugs him and didn’t now. They don’t have that kind of relationship. Maybe they will when they’re grown.
My son handed me a CD. He said, “I made one for you too, Mama. It’s got gospel music on it. You’ll like it.”
“Thank you, Booji!”
We hugged.
“Well, this was nice,” I said.
"It ain't over," Booji said. "I got somethin’ else fo’ you, Tree."
“Is it more free music you got from homeboy?", she asked kind of snotty.
"Be nice, Tree," I warned her. Lawd, I thought, please don't get them to fighting on another Christmas.
Booji, for once, ignored her. She and I exchanged looks while he ran outside of our apartment. He returned with a trashbag and a box. He handed her the box.
“Eeek!", she squealed. "I felt something move inside!”
He laughed. “Open it, dummy.”
Trianna gingerly opened it and peeked inside.
“Mama, I don’t believe this.”
I can feel it coming. Whatever it is, if it's moving, it's gonna be more housework. Damn.
“It’s a cat! Booji got me a cat! Will it bite?”
“No, dummy, I wouldn’t get you no bad cat. It’s nice. Pet it.”
“I don’t know,” she replied doubtfully.
Booji reached inside the box and picked up the kitty. He cuddled it, then placed this silky black feline on her lap. Trianna sat there, staring at it without touching it.
“I got a litter box and litter too, in the trash bag, and some cat food. There’s a little hair brush for it. Brush it every a few days and shedding won't be a problem.”
“Where’d you get it?”, I asked, trying not to sound upset. I thought that we don’t need no damn cat. It’ll be another mouth to feed and more work, work that no one will want to do.
“A friend got evicted the other day,” he said. “They can’t keep it where they living now. They were gonna take it to the shelter the day after Christmas. I told her I’d take it.”
Trianna was petting the cat now. It purred loudly.
Booji sensed my negative vibes.“It’s been spaded and declawed, Mama,” he said quickly, “so it won’t scratch up the furniture. My friend said it’s 100% house broken. Even has all her shots... I got the papers. She's only two or three years old. You can see she's a good cat. Just look her.”
I held my tongue and sighed, trying to think of how I’ll tell them we can’t keep it.
"What's her name?", Trianna asked.
Booji tilted his head as he looked at the cat. “Her name is Comfort.”
“Comfort,” Tree repeated. “I like that name. I like this cat!”
“I knew you would,” he replied, grinning.
She stood up and gave her brother a big hug. “Thanks Booji! This is the best present you evah gave me!”
She picked up Comfort and ran to her room. When I heard her door close, I turned to Booji.
“Are you outta your damn mind? I can’t even get you to wash your own dishes. What do I do when she forgets to clean it’s litter box? We’re eating soup and pasta half the week. Chicken is a treat. How can we afford to buy stuff to take care of a cat?”
“She can pay for that with her babysitting money,” he said. “Tree will do it unless she wants it to starve. In that case, I’ll take it to the shelter myself.”
“You gotta answer for everything, don’t you?”, I snapped.
“This present was really for you, Mama,” Booji said quietly.
“Me?”
“I seen yo’ medical papers last year,” he said quietly. “Just before Christmas. That’s why I stole those flowers, to cheer you up, but she had to go and blab.
I inhaled sharply and bit my lip. All this time, I had no idea that my secret wasn’t a secret.
Booji's eyes got moist. “I know you gonna keep getting’ worse. This will be hard on Tree.”
I hung my head down. Tears fell on my lap.
“That cat’s name ain’t Comfort. Well, it is now, ‘cause that what it will give Tree when you get sicker.”
I closed my eyes and began shaking my head. I didn’t want to think about these days to come.
“When you pass, Mama, I’m going into the Marines. Ain’t nevah gonna be no jobs around here. I might even enlist before then if I can’t find work soon. Tree will probably go live with your sister in Atlanta or her daddy’s brother in L.A., but she don’t know them any of them that well. They’ll probably let her keep the cat, ‘cause you know she can lay on the charm.”
I smiled a sad smile. My baby does have loads of charisma.
I looked at my son and was uncertain. This boy has never been nothing but trouble. Stayed in trouble from the day he hit kindergarten. I’ve tried not to be hard on him. My first husband – his daddy – left us when he was four. He had a hard time accepting my second husband, Tree’s father. He was killed by a stray bullet in our ‘hood three years ago. He shocked me then when he took it as hard as her. After that, Booji began skippin’ school and hanging out with all the wrong people who did all the wrong things.
“You make a good argument, Booji,” I said, “but still… a cat?”
He sighed. His shoulders slumped and he looked down, now uncertain with his choice.
I studied him, trying to visualize him in uniform, fighting, killing and maybe dying for his country in this stupid war.
Better than fighting, killing and dying in the streets for his gang color, a voice whispered to me.
It's hitting me that my son is at an important crossroad. I must not let my fears drown out his own internal voice.
“Stand up straight, boy,” I commanded. “You’re going to be a Marine soon. You’re already thinking like a man, thinking ahead for the time that I’ve been too cowardly to think or talk about, or plan for. I hope this cat works out. Like you said, if Tree don’t take care of it, that’s on her. You done your part. I’m proud of you.”
Booji stood at attention and saluted me, then grinned. “Thank you, Mama!”
“Merry Christmas, Booji. This is a wonderful gift, for her and me.”
We hugged each other real tight.
An hour later, I am still sitting in my easy chair, knitting. Trianna is asleep in her bed with the newest member of our family. Booji is asleep on the sofa because he doesn’t have a bedroom. I’m a little tired and almost ready to call it a night.
I studied my son. I say a prayer for him and thank the Lord that I have lived to see my boy learn to think like a man.
This gave me comfort.
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