The Decks and the Road
book 1- Freeborn
Chapter 15
Tayeton- It was like nothing I’d
expected. The whole thing really was
unexpected, but it was proving to be what I needed. The blog had become a great mediator between
Kat and me. She never reacted to the
purple card, and I decided to leave it as such.
I figured it was better off that way while I was trying to sort out my
side of things. Still I wasn’t sure if I
was still holding that card, or if she was. We spoke every day, but briefly. Our conversations were light. She’d say something I didn’t see coming, and
I tried to be as swift and refreshing.
We always had a good basis and texture for our conversations. I hadn’t dated anyone since I found out, and
although the whole issue of dating weighed on me, I couldn’t help but want to
know her. I thought I’d just see where
it was all going. Although I didn’t know
where, I continued to control the pace. This
morning, I’d slept late. I’d taken the
day off to handle a couple of things. I
hadn’t realized how much she looked forward to the blog until I got the text, “Waiting
on your notes”. It was as if the light
in the room had been delivered with the text.
Everything just looked so much brighter.
I hadn’t seen her since our date weeks before, and I thought to invite
her out. I knew how packed her schedule
was, so I was surprised she could meet me.
I’d
continued with the praying. It still
wasn’t in a traditional way. I found I
mostly prayed in the shower with my head under the shower head. I’d asked about her a few times. I never felt like anything was relayed to me,
but just the same nothing was really opposing us. I’d plan on just some jeans and a t-shirt,
but something said, “pick it up”.
I followed
the directions I’d gotten from Mr. Wells exactly, and it led me right to a
small yellow house. I was a little ways
out from my side of town. He was off the
palmetto, in a little roundabout. There
was a sign that said Wells Realty, and a few other cars in the drive way. It didn’t fit the impression I’d gotten, but
I was excited to speak to Mr. Wells. He’d
stumbled on my blog, and wanted to meet with me. From what I understood, he’d known my
mother. We’d agreed to meet at
eleven. I rang the bell almost on the
dot. A tall dark skinned man with an
overgrown head of hair answered. He was
salt and pepper. It was interesting
though he had no facial hair to go with all the hair on his head. We shook hands, and he welcomed me into what
was actually a very well laid out space.
It was not the home where you could work from, but more like the office
where you might sleep. There were two
desks facing each other and positioned at opposite sides of the room. A young man was sitting at one, and the other
was completely empty and appeared to be available. I followed Mr. Wells pass the two desks, and
into a small office space. There were
newspaper clippings all over the walls that acknowledged his work. I sat in one of three chairs he had against
the wall that faced his desk.
“Pull
up a chair Tayeton.”
“Thanks.” I got closer to the desk that had a few
stacks of papers on one side and a computer monitor on the other.
“How’s
the blog coming along?” He asked as he
reached into the second draw of the file cabinet that was positioned in the
corner behind him.
“Pretty
good actually. It’s seems to be growing
legs.”
“Well
it was pretty smart of you. You know
your mother was quite the writer, and I bet she still have some fans
around. I surely was a fan.” Mr. Wells summed it up, and returned holding
a copy of “Thinking Outloud”. I was
impressed to see it. It was suddenly a
real thing.
“May
I?”
“Certainly.” I held the book again in amazement. I longed to have a copy of my own, but it had
proven to be harder than I’d suspected.
Apparently everyone who had a copy had never considered giving it
away.
“You don’t happen to have
another one of these, do you?”
“No Tayeton, sorry. But you might speak to someone at the
college.” Mr. Wells began to write
something on a sticky pad. He handed me
the note, and I stuck it into my wallet.
“That’s actually why I
reached out to you. I knew Nora from
school. I remember when she was dating
Fisher. She just faded away after our
second year. My sympathies to you. I didn’t hear about her passing. I surely would have come, and paid my
respects.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that, and you taking the time to
reach out to me.”
“Are you in contact with
any of the Fishers?”
“No, actually I’m
not. I’ve never met my father.”
“I see.” Mr. Wells began writing another note. I reached for my wallet again, and again
without a glance, I stuck it into my wallet.
“Look into the stuff I
gave you. I think it will help, and if I
can do more, don’t hesitate to ask.” Mr.
Wells rose from his seat and stretched his arm out.
“I thank you.” I shook his hand again.
When I returned to the car, I sat for
a moment. I was still trying to put
together what had taken place. First the
phone call that gave little to no details, and then the way Mr. Wells seemed to
be just casually holding on to pieces of my life. I wondered it that was the way life was usually
dealt. I wondered if we were all holding
on to pieces and parts of each other’s stories.
I was afraid to pull the notes from my wallet. I didn’t know just how much Mr. Wells had to
offer to my story, and if I was ready for any of it all. I thought to go on with my day, but then I
thought to take a peek. I unfolded the
first note. There was a name of a college with a name written below. On the next
piece of paper, he had written largely, Simpleton and Fisher. I studied the words over and over. They weren’t changing, but every time I read
them, I could feel fear and hope building at the same time. I plugged the name into my phone, and dialed
the number. When
the operator answered, I suddenly didn’t know what to say. After the second greeting, I found my voice.
“Hi,
my name is Tayeton Fisher, is it possible to speak to Fisher.”
“Certainly
Mr. Fisher. Please hold.” I
held on to the phone and my breath.
“This
is Fisher.” A deep and hurried voice
saved my breath.
“My
name is Tayeton Fisher; I was directed to you by Mr. Timothy Wells.”
“Timothy
Wells? That’s an old contact. How can I help you?” He made no mention of the name Fisher.
“I
think you might have known my mother, Nora Rivers.” I heard myself say.
“Nora?” He showed no recollection. I waited in hopes that he might remember
something. After a few drawn out
seconds, he replied.
“Did
you say you were a Fisher?”
“I
did.”
“How
old are you?”
“I’m
thirty-one.”
“Can
you come by?”
“I
can’t at the moment, maybe after three.”
I was already set to meet with Kayla.
“Doesn’t
work. How’s Friday?”
“I’ll
be working.”
“Okay,
do you get a lunch break. I’ll come to
meet you. Take my number. We’ll set it up.”
“That
works. And what’s your name?” I was curious.
“I’m
Walter Fisher.”
“Thank
you Mr. Fisher. I look forward to
meeting you.”
“Likewise.” Just like that; I’d lost my breath, gained
it, and lost it again.
I pulled out of Mr. Wells' drive way
and headed across town. The day was
turning out to be one I would surely remember.
I had spent quite a bit of energy trying to foresee how my meeting with
Kayla would go, but I was still not so sure.
If it weren’t for Kaylin we might have never spoken again, but she’d
been asking about Johnaya. I knew it was
my mother’s wish for them to be together anyway, so it was an easy decision to
make. When I made it to the lunch café, it was just a
little after twelve, and the place was packed.
I was hungry, but couldn’t eat. I
searched the room and saw Kayla eating and studying her phone at the same
time. I knew it wasn’t a date, just a
meeting, but I thought she could have waited for me. Anyway, I slipped into the booth where she
was.
“Hey,
sorry I’m late.” I startled her.
“Hey. Are you going to get something?”
“No. I’m good for now.”
“So,
how you been?”
“I’m
okay.”
“And
Kaylin?”
“Not
bad. We visited mom’s storage, and she
found some things to hold on to. I
suppose they keep her company.”
“That’s
good. She looked pretty good at the
funeral.”
“Yeah,
she surprises me.”
“You
wanted to talk.”
“Yeah,
Kaylin would like to visit you. She’s
been asking about Johnaya. She tells me
that’s your daughter.”
“You
know I…”
“I
know. So, are you happy?” I’d taken note of the single band on her
finger. It was rare and understated for
a woman.
“I
am.”
“Is
that why you said no?”
“Kaylin
wasn’t the concern.”
“Am
I the concern?” I had not considered
myself to be the problem.
“You
were.”
“And
now?”
“He’s
open to meeting you. I’ll talk to him.”
“What
should I tell Kaylin?”
“Tell
her yes. We’ll figure it out.”
“That’s
fair. I’ll tell her.”
“So
have you spoken to him?”
“Him
who?”
“Morgan?”
“No. Why?”
“You
know that they’re more?”
“I
know.”
“My
mother notified many of them.”
“Do
you think it was out of spite or some grand purpose?”
“At
first I thought she was angry, but I’m learning more about who she was. I can’t say for sure, but I think it was just
in her to do it. ”
“I
couldn’t imagine what I would do.” Kayla
gave a look of deep sympathy, and I thought to tell her, but I didn’t. I’d learned from the last months of my mother’s
life that sympathy as deep as it always looked was actually quite shallow. Instead I offered to pay for her meal and
left. I needed to get into the
open. I decided to walk a few streets
over to a smoothie place I knew. The day
was hot, and the traffic was busy, but none of it bothered me. Those were the constants.
Freeborn, a novel
Freeborn
© Grace Call Communications,
LLC
Copyright © 2017
by Natisha Renee Williams
All Rights Reserved
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