We Are Not Our Scars

Wiping the tears from my face I place the razor back into the bathroom drawer next to my sister’s loose hair clips, the half-used roll of tums, and a broken pair of glasses that I think belonged to my grandfather. So many random things. I find myself feeling random at time, like maybe I had a purpose but know I’m just a forgotten nothing in a drawer that no one looks in.

“Boy hurry out of the bathroom your breakfast is getting cold!” shouted my grandmother. My sister and I had come from Birmingham to spend the weekend with my grandmother who lived in New Orleans. Our mother said it was to help our grandmother around the house but I knew it was because my mom wanted to be alone as she boxed up my father’s belongings, death is never easy even if it is planned for. I remember my grandmother and father talking about insurance policies and what my grandmother received for my grandfather and how my father wanted to make sure his family was taken care of. 20,000 dollars, that is what a piece of paper stated my father’s life was worth, his death would help pay for me and my sister to go to college and I’m suppose to be ok with that.

As I made my way out of the bathroom, I pulled my sleeve down to cover my scars before grabbing a plate from the stove and taking a seat next to my sister and grandmother.

“Boy what were you doing in the bathroom so long?” asked Grandmother.

“Mother ask him the same thing; except she stands by the door ever since…” started my sister Jasmine.

“Jasmine!” I shouted.

“I know when your grandfather was alive, I would have to feed him prunes; it cleared him right on out. The secret is…” grandmother started.

“No!” I interrupted “I was just washing my face.” I lied.

“Liar, Liar!” yelled Jasmine.

“Jasmine, Shut up!” I yelled harshly.

“Boy I’m the only one who raises their voice in this house! And take that hood off your head, and why do you have long sleeves on in the middle of the summer; is that what they’re doing up there in Birmingham?” stated my grandmother firmly.

“And on that note, I am going to go for a run.” I stated leaving the table and the cramped house.

I had never really liked running, it was recommended by a therapist after my father past.

***

The rain was coming down hard, and my dad had just picked me up from school, at the time I was a sophomore in high school and had begged my parents for a car and that kept telling me no. So just like every time my father would pick me up the conversation would always start the same, with how he could save time and gas if he would just get me a car. Today was different, a car was the furthest thing from my mind. As I slide into the back seat of my dad’s black Camaro that my mom hated because she said my dad drives to fast, I swallowed hard to find the words to start the conversation.

“Hey dad, there is a dance this Saturday…” I started.

“A dance, that’s nice, you never go out. Who is the lucky girl? You know what I may be able to talk your mom into letting you have the car for the night!” my dad stated with pride as he looked at me in the rear-view mirror.

“Yea, that would be great but we both know mom would not go for it.” I said trying to make small talk.

“So, who is the girl, do I know her?” stated my dad.

“Yea so I asked David.” I said as I looked out the window.

“So, you all are doing the double date thing! Nice I remember me and my boys use to do that…” said Dad as he rumbled on.

“NO! I’m going with David; we have talked about this. I like David more than a friend, and I don’t care if you stopped allowing him to come over to the house or if you thought moving to Birmingham would keep us apart, he said he would come up…”

“Jacob enough, not with this again!” yelled my dad as the phone begin to ring. The rain was coming down so much harder now as my dad took his eyes off the road to try and find his phone. Feeling on the floorboard of the passenger seat he answered the phone.

“Mom what is it, now is not a good time.” I heard his say to my grandmother as he turned up the windshield wipers. “No Mom, that doesn’t make any sense, why would I do that, No!”

Suddenly my father got a very serious look on his face and hung up the phone. My dad pulled the car over to the side of the road and stepped out of the car walking around to the back passenger side and opened my door.

“Get out!” my father said. “Quickly, there isn’t much time. Get out!”

“What? The house is right there why do I have to walk home in the rain we are literally right here!” I yelled as my father pulled me out of the car and made his way back to the driver’s side.

“Is this about David I yelled? Why are you doing this?” I yelled as the rain came down even harder. But he did not say a word, he would never say another word. As he drove off towards the intersection an 18-wheeler rain the light and my dad’s car was destroyed, my family was broken, and that is when I begin cutting myself.

***

HONK!!! The car’s horn jolted me back to my body as I jumped back onto the side of the street as people looked at me to see if I was ok. Normally when I run, I don’t think about my past or that day, I’m normally allow the wind to take me to a place of peace but today it was like my life flashed before me. I wiped my forehead as I leaned forward with my hands on my knees. As I begin to get my bearings, I started the long run back to the house, what a strange day.

As I was getting ready for bed my grandmother came into my room holding a little black book. I had noticed it because it never left her bed side.

“Boy you talk to your mother today?” she asked with a bit of sadness in her voice.

“No not yet, she will be back tomorrow evening to pick us up, you know that grandmother.” I said as I got more comfortable in the bed.

“Boy call your Mother, and Call that boy David he always came and checked on me after you all moved away. Such a nice boy. The two of you make a good couple.” She said as she left the room.

Like a bolt of lightning, I seat up straight in bed.

“What!?” I ran into my grandmother room. “Couple what are you talking about?” I asked.

“Boy, don’t come in here all turned up to one hundred. I done took my medicine and I’m going to be out any minute now.” Said my grandmother as she placed her teeth in a cup next to the little black book on her nightstand.

“Grandmother, David and I are not a couple we…” I started.

“Now the boy is going to lie to me, Lord Jesus.” Said my grandmother as she looked up at the ceiling.

“Boy take a sit.” She said as she waved her hand across the quilt that had been passed down for generations. Not looking her in the eyes I took a sit as she took my hand in hers.

“Boy I know you because God made you. When you were first born, I said that boy is something special, you have the same light that your father had God rest his soul. I remember holding your father in my arms when he was first born and knowing that no matter what he did I would always love him. Your father felt the same way about you. It broke his heart that day I called and told him to let you out of the car, but it was the only way.”

“What? What are you talking about, we had an argument and he put me out, you saying that is not what happen, that you told him to put me out the car?” I asked totally confused.

I was answered by the sound of snoring as I looked at my grandmother who had fallen asleep. As I stood up the little black book on the night stand caught my eye. I wanted to move towards the door but something compelled me to pick up the book. As I flipped through the pages, I saw page after page of names. There was my grandfather’s name, one of my Aunt’s that I had never met because she passed before I was born, my father’s name and then I saw it, the very last name. Jacob Turner. Why was my name in her book? Was she tracking our genealogy, and if so, why was my mother’s or sister’s name not in the book? Before going to bed I took my grandmother’s advice and called David and my Mother.

***

The sunlight was extremely bright this morning, I looked in the mirror. And I smiled. The sun was coming through the window and someone was playing Jill Scott down the street way to loud but the volume matched my energy. I was charged and ready for my run. I kissed my sister on the check and hugged my grandmother before heading out the door.

“Baby I love you; you know that don’t you.” Stated my grandmother with a warm small.

“Yes mama, I will see you guys later!” I said as I rushed out the door.

The wind felt peaceful, I felt energized all over again. After about 15 minutes in I removed the earbuds to free myself from the distraction. I wanted to hear the wind. I ran the same route the day before so I felt I know where I was going. As I turned the corner and begin to pick up speed on a long straight away, I closed my eyes and just allowed myself to be happy for the first time in a long time. I heard my grandmother’s voice.

“Your father loved you.”

I heard David’s voice.

“I wanted to do that for a while now.”

I heard my sister laughing.

I heard my mother singing.

I heard my father.

“Come home.”

I don’t feel anything as the car jumped the curve.

My grandmother, she was right, there was something to all that African stuff. My father and mother knew also and respected it although they didn’t completely understand it. You see my grandmother had the gift of prophecy and she used it to protect our family but not in the way you think. She never prevented bad things from happening because there are no good or bad things, just life running like a steady stream. She used her gift to prepare people for what was to come. On the day my grandmother called my father she told him it was his time. That was the list of names in her little black book. She told my father that it was his time and if he did not let me out of the car, I would be seriously injured. We are not our scars, and if we slow down for just a moment, those scars we carry, can be made lighter, I didn’t learn this until after my death.